Guan Si’er, cradling a whole pile of imperial-grade red glaze porcelain the Emperor had bestowed on him, plus land deeds to a thousand-mu manor estate, stumbled dazedly out of the main hall.
His Majesty had said that, a few days ago, he’d single-handedly taken on ten men, capturing every single one of the sinister recluses who had been attacking the Daliang palace for days? Was there such a thing? How come I don’t know about it?
From others’ accounts, Guan Si’er learned of his own supposed movements that day—apparently he’d first appeared at the city gate, then gone to the marketplace, and later dealt with a wandering swordsman called “Headless Golden Blade” or something like that. The methods used to deal with him were unheard of too—crushing a golden blade bare-handed? Then afterward, “he” had supposedly strolled into the Ministry of Justice’s prison, bare-handedly ripped out the tongue of the Marquis of Haichuan, broken his arm too, and the Marquis had howled in agony for a full day and night before finally dying from the pain. Oh, and apparently on the way in, he’d hung a Jiu Si Tang enforcement token on the prison wall too?
In any case, everyone he’d encountered at court today, everyone he’d paid respects to—including the Emperor himself—all looked at him strangely. Reverent gazes, envious gazes, relieved gazes, all mixed together, leaving Little Seven Blade utterly panicked inside. Even his own father, Gong Zhiyi, had looked at him with red-rimmed eyes, choking back sobs: “My son knew the palace wasn’t safe, and feared for his father’s safety? Oh, my child, my child…”
Ahhh, what was all this?! He didn’t dare accept such credit—this was a capital offense of deceiving the Emperor! Guan Si’er had knelt before the throne, swearing countless oaths, absolutely refusing to admit to any of it. The Emperor had finally lost his temper at him, telling him to just take the rewards and get out, so out he came.
Outside the main hall, Chen Dasheng stood upright with his blade, and hearing Guan Si’er emerge, turned his head and smiled at him.
Guan Si’er, eyes brimming with tears, complained aggrievedly: “Brother, this is an injustice for the ages—even snow falling in June wouldn’t be enough to express my grievance, I’ve been wronged to death!”
Chen Dasheng shushed him. Guan Si’er fell silent, standing beside him. Before long, they saw the Tan family’s Defender-General, Tan Shiyuan’s collateral-branch elder cousin, leading his three grandnephews—Tan Weitong, Tan Weizheng, and Tan Weixin—approaching the main hall together.
From a distance, Tan Shilin spotted Chen Dasheng, clapped his hands happily, and laughed loudly from the bottom of the steps: “Well, well, look who it is!”
This old general was a rare figure of generosity within the Tan family. He’d once saved the Retired Emperor’s life, though the credit had been claimed by the main line of the family—yet he bore no grudge over it. His generosity and his habit of staying out of other people’s business had much to do with his status as a collateral, illegitimate-born branch member; he’d long been excluded from the Tan family’s inner circle of power.
If Tan Shize had had this old man’s temperament back in his day, his fate certainly wouldn’t have turned out the way it did.
This man was different from other members of the Tan family—first, his attitude was good, smiling at everyone he met, which already set him apart. He could be brothers with anyone, treated his subordinates decently, and wasn’t harsh with people. Give me something, I’ll laugh and accept it happily; don’t give it to me, forget it, no big deal!
And so, starting in the first year of Daliang, when the Emperor needed men, this man, simply by virtue of sharing the Tan surname, received some measure of consideration. It happened that the main line was weak in descendants and needed to recuperate, so he’d quietly risen to prominence in the left flank army. By now, with Tan Shouyi stuck in Jindian unable to return, the three legitimate-born children wanted to make a comeback in Yandu, and every time they came to pay respects at court, it was this distant uncle who guided them in.
It was said that Tan Shouyi had even written him a deeply earnest letter, asking him to set aside past grievances and look after the Tan family’s nephews and nieces; Tan Shilin had graciously agreed, which was why they were here today.
The Tan family was famously known for its harshness, so for him to behave this way put people at ease and earned him considerable praise.
Today too he greeted them with a broad smile. Chen Dasheng’s official rank was, in fact, lower than his. Chen Dasheng raised a hand to remove his mask, revealing a smiling face as he descended the steps to greet him, bowing to Old General Tan Shilin: “General, good to see you. What brings you to the palace today?” Then, with particular courtesy, he bowed to the several young Tan lords as well.
The Tan family’s influence on him was something he’d never wash off in this lifetime.
Tan Shilin hurriedly supported him with both hands, scolding him with exaggerated annoyance: “Heh heh heh! Enough! Look at you, we’re all family here, why all this ceremony? By seniority, you’re their uncle’s generation—who’s your father, and who are they to accept such courtesy from you?”
Chen Dasheng didn’t take the bait, still replying politely and courteously: “It’s not about one’s station, but about conscience and good character—this is only proper. All of us came up from the Long Blade Camp, and these skills we carry were learned there. After all, you were our former benefactor—I could never forget that in this lifetime!”
Hearing this, Tan Weitong returned the courtesy with particular politeness, while the one called Tan Weizheng put on airs of reserve. The most interesting one was Tan Weixin—this boy, nominally counted as Tan Shize’s adopted heir—smiled like a purely innocent child, eyes shining as he looked at Chen Dasheng and asked, “Marquis Chen, has Seventh Marquis come today?”
This little fellow had certainly been well-trained by his grandfather. Pity that Chen Dasheng knew exactly what kind of person he really was behind the scenes—the man was the chief of the empire’s scouts and spies.
Chen Dasheng smiled and pointed at Guan Si’er, who was still lost in thought up on the steps, mentally trying to figure out when exactly he’d supposedly crushed a blade or ripped out a tongue or come to the rescue: “There he is—today he received the Emperor’s reward and is still basking in the glow of it. If the little one is impolite, please, young lords, don’t hold it against him.”
Tan Weixin looked at Guan Si’er with pure admiration, and after a good while said, “Not at all, Marquis Chen. Some day, might I invite Seventh Marquis to a meal?” His whole face, his whole bearing, radiated the enthusiasm of youth, the look of someone gazing at a hero they admired.
Chen Dasheng gave an especially good-natured smile: “Of course, why not? Whenever suits you, young lord—just have someone send word after our shift ends and you can find us.”
After exchanging a few more pleasantries, the four of them were summoned away by a eunuch. As they passed by Guan Si’er, Tan Weixin stopped to praise him thoroughly once more.
Once they’d entered the hall, Guan Si’er finally came shuffling down the steps with his arms full, and said to Chen Dasheng, “Brother, did you see that?”
Chen Dasheng watched their retreating figures, and once they were out of sight, said with a light laugh, “Quite accomplished, aren’t they. Tan Weitong will be reinstated to his post soon; wherever Tan Weizheng ends up, no need to pay him much mind either—petty-minded just like his father, won’t amount to much. But this Tan Weixin—from what Eunuch Zhang implies, he’s aiming for a position as companion to the imperial princes.”
Guan Si’er grunted in confirmation: “Sixth Prince mustn’t use him.”
Chen Dasheng snorted coldly: “That one wouldn’t even look twice at your Sixth Prince.”
Before he’d even finished speaking, Guan Si’er let out a miserable wail: “Brother, I’ve been wronged! We were all together that night, you go tell the Emperor! Why won’t they believe it? Insisting it was me, insisting it was me—don’t you remember, that night you’d just bathed and treated us all to drinks…”
Chen Dasheng laughed softly, reached out, and pulled his seventh brother along as they walked. Guan Si’er stumbled along behind him clutching the box—this was the imperial-grade large red-glaze vase he was carrying, and red glaze was the hardest color to fire successfully in porcelain, hence its great value—and yet the Emperor had given it to him just like that. Tell me if that’s not a grievance, tell me if that’s not frightening!
Once they’d exited the inner palace courtyard, Chen Dasheng pulled Guan Si’er into a corner. The two brothers crouched down, and Chen Dasheng sniffed and said, with a guilty conscience but firm tone nonetheless: “This matter—whether it was you or not, Old Seven, you’re going to have to own up to it.”
Naturally, Guan Si’er didn’t want to. He said in a low voice, “Why should I? It wasn’t even me who did it.”
Chen Dasheng said, “Because ever since that night, there hasn’t been a single assassin in the palace since!”
Guan Si’er gasped at this.
Chen Dasheng continued, “I know you’re wronged. The Emperor isn’t a fool either—how many of the palace guards don’t recognize you? Aside from us, you know exactly where the hidden guards were stationed that night. Whether it was really you or not, Guan Si’er, does that even matter anymore? Ever since those events at the end of last year, the Ministry of Justice’s prison has locked up countless wealthy criminals whose families have accumulated fortune over generations. Those families have deep pockets, and who knows how many hidden recluses they’ve been secretly funding for generations. Those recluses have eaten and drunk off these families for so long—now that the families are in trouble, if the recluses don’t find some way to save them, their own reputation is finished, and they’ll never receive new patronage again.”
Guan Si’er said angrily, “Then they should go break their people out of prison with Gu Hongyun and that lot—why come to the palace?”
Chen Dasheng sighed. “They’ve got ambitions, I suppose. Wanting to establish their authority too? Wasn’t it the same under the previous dynasty? The old recluses used to compete with the court for land and patronage, and the previous dynasty tolerated it. But our Emperor won’t stand for it, won’t acknowledge it—which threatens their interests. The Emperor knows it wasn’t you, but right now, Old Dao needs to shoulder this mountain to intimidate the realm—so we’re just going to own it.”
Guan Si’er finally understood what was going on—after all this fuss, everyone actually knew the truth, yet insisted on wronging him anyway. Once he’d worked it out, he said in a wronged tone, “But that person was so powerful—tomorrow, once they realize I’ve been falsely impersonating them, and they come looking for me, won’t I be in trouble?”
Chen Dasheng looked up at the sky and, after a long pause, sighed, “They won’t.”
Guan Si’er grumbled, “You say it won’t happen and it just won’t happen?”
Chen Dasheng said helplessly, “Yes, I guarantee it won’t.”
If Brother said it wouldn’t happen, then surely it wouldn’t. Guan Si’er felt reassured. He stood up, cradling his things, and started to leave, but after a few steps, unable to let it go, turned back and asked, “Brother, what if tomorrow someone comes looking for me, insisting on a duel?”
Chen Dasheng, exasperated, said, “Then just tell them it was me!”
Guan Si’er said without hesitation, “Then I really will say that.”
“Get out of here!”
“Got it!”
Guan Si’er really was simple-hearted—genuinely the kind of innocent, foolish good nature that came from being doted on by six older brothers above him. Since his brother was willing to shoulder this burden, he could calmly walk off cradling his things. As for the rewards in his arms—well, might as well get something out of being wronged, right?
He made his way to the outer palace, walking along the corridor, only to find someone already waiting for him along the way.
Sixth Prince Yang Qian, with his little eunuch in tow, was pacing in circles. Spotting Guan Si’er, he called out: “Little Seven!!”
Guan Si’er answered happily: “Sixth Prince!!”
Then the two of them ran toward each other. Meeting up, the Sixth Prince asked anxiously, “Little Seven, are you alright?” Seeing Guan Si’er cradling a whole pile of rewards, he said worriedly, “You shouldn’t have accepted this, it’s too dangerous. What’ll you do tomorrow if they come looking for you?”
Truly a devoted friend! Guan Si’er, who’d been wronged the entire day, nodded excitedly: “Right, right! I said I didn’t want it, but your father insisted on giving it to me! I said it wasn’t me, but your father insisted it was!”
His eyes lit up: “Hey? Sixth Prince, you know it wasn’t me?”
The Sixth Prince nodded with certainty: “Of course, I know you. I told Father Emperor too, and Father Emperor told me to shut up!”
Oh my goodness, finally someone understood his grievance!
Guan Si’er, still frustrated, said sadly, “My brother told me the same thing too—said if they push too hard, just say it was him.”
The Sixth Prince, worried on his behalf, patted his shoulder: “That’s good then—just say it was your brother.”
Guan Si’er nodded firmly: “Mm!”
After this exchange between devoted friends, the Sixth Prince brought Guan Si’er along to his own residence, the Xuqin Hall. Now that the princes were grown, they each had their own courtyards within the palace. The name of the Sixth Prince’s courtyard said it all—”Xuqin” meant “to encourage diligence”—so essentially the name meant, “Sixth, your father’s telling you to get a move on and be diligent.” Not exactly the air of a future heir to the throne, going by that name.
The Sixth Prince’s courtyard was peaceful and secluded, much like the prince himself; the servants and eunuchs attending him were all smiling and easygoing too. Seeing the prince bring a marquis’s son into the courtyard, they came forward warmly and had the little kitchen prepare his favorite snacks.
Guan Si’er was fond of the Sixth Prince too, and generously opened up several of his newly acquired red-glaze boxes for the prince to pick through. The Sixth Prince, without any hesitation, claimed the two largest pieces for himself. The two of them always played well together like this.
Once they’d settled down from their fun, Guan Si’er sat down seriously and asked about that night’s events.
“Sixth Prince, did you see that person that night?”
The Sixth Prince nodded. “I saw him, actually everyone saw him—Guard Liu saw him, several of us saw him, several of Father Emperor’s hidden guards all came out too. I knew right away it wasn’t you—you don’t even like sweets, and that fellow ate up all of Xuan He’s favorite treats on the rooftop. Consort Jing keeps such a tight watch on what he eats, the poor child only gets that little bit of sweetness each day, and well, not a single crumb was left—made the child cry until his eyes were swollen.”
Guan Si’er gasped: “Well, that’s just going too far!”
But this time, the Sixth Prince didn’t join in the outrage—instead, his eyes were full of wistful admiration as he said, “Little Seven, so there really are immortals in this world. Even if he’s not exactly an immortal, I think that man must be some kind of earthbound transcendent.”
Guan Si’er asked, “What do you mean?”
The Sixth Prince lifted his robe, hopped onto a drum-shaped stool, and, eyes shining, said mysteriously, “That person—he can fly.”
Guan Si’er absolutely refused to believe it: “Nonsense!”
The Sixth Prince, unusually serious, looked at Guan Si’er and said, “Little Seven, I used to think that in this world…”
The boy trailed off mid-sentence, his face—now slimmer and revealing increasingly refined, handsome features as his baby fat receded—filled with all sorts of emotions Guan Si’er couldn’t quite place. After a sigh, he asked, “Do you know of the Grand Minister of the Nine Provinces?”
Guan Si’er stared blankly and shook his head.
The Sixth Prince put his feet down, leaned on the table with some melancholy, and said, “Legend has it that within the Nine Provinces territory there exists a Grand Minister who oversees the maps of the Emperor’s domain—they’re the oldest of the old recluses, having no connection to the current martial world. Among them are divisions for mountains and forests, rivers and marshes, hills and mounds, level plains and burial grounds, plains and wetlands—and among those the Emperor has ordered captured this time are descendants of a collateral branch of the ‘wetlands’ division. The ones who came that night were from mountains-and-forests, hills-and-mounds, rivers-and-marshes, and wetlands—truly, extraordinarily formidable people! They’d originally intended to capture Father Emperor to negotiate terms.”
Guan Si’er, having no knowledge of any of this, exclaimed in shock: “Have they no regard for the law? What audacity! Even daring to seize the Emperor? Are they truly that powerful?”
The Sixth Prince nodded seriously, explaining in his own way: “Mm, Father Emperor said the old recluses’ code of conduct all originated from them. Back in the day, it was also to stop martial practitioners from running amok that the people of the Nine Provinces took the lead in withdrawing from the world, and from then on the realm knew peace, and thus arose the old recluses who live off patronage. Any single one of them, I’d wager, could hold off fifty Liu Dayas, maybe even more.”
Guan Si’er, somewhat confused, asked, “Why bring up Foreman Liu?”
The Sixth Prince said wistfully, “We’ve known each other so long, and I’ve never once seen you Old Dao people use your full strength—I’ve only seen Foreman Liu exert great effort once, back in early spring, when Father Emperor took us to the imperial fields for the spring plowing ceremony. Foreman Liu pulled a plow with three oxen’s worth of strength single-handed—that’s when I knew just how strong he was.”
Hearing this, Guan Si’er’s expression turned serious. In his life there were many things he was reluctant to do, and one of the things he least wanted was to reveal his true strength in front of the Sixth Prince. So he deflected: “So… so then what happened?”
The Sixth Prince stretched out a hand, pointing outward with a slight tremble: “That person just walked right into the palace, brazenly climbed onto the roof of our main hall. Foreman Liu led the palace guards to confront him, and more than twenty men went up onto the roof, only to be knocked down in a single exchange by that old man they called ‘mountains-and-forests’—every single one of them! And then—that person appeared, wearing your clothes, pretending to be you.”
Guan Si’er fell silent, finding it hard to believe such a person could exist in this world, though he managed to point out one thing: “My clothes weren’t missing.”
The Sixth Prince drew a breath: “At first I really thought it was one of you all. But that person was so slight and small, waist so slender—yet he took on four of them alone, and you should have seen it, the man was flying through the air…”
The Sixth Prince’s tone grew more and more excited as he gestured: “You remember that pair of little bronze lions in our rear hall?”
Guan Si’er nodded—those weren’t small bronze lions at all, just ordinary-sized ones by palace standards.
The Sixth Prince gestured wildly: “Each one must weigh at least six hundred jin or so, right?”
Guan Si’er nodded again—more than that, actually.
The Sixth Prince grabbed two pieces of fruit off the table and waved them around: “Those old recluses fought with him and even announced their titles and backgrounds. Father Emperor was startled at the time and had the hidden guards rush us away immediately—but it was all over in an instant. That person, so slight and small, had started off with a blade too, but maybe it didn’t feel right in his hand, because he flew down and, right in front of Father Emperor, picked up a bronze lion in each hand and, within moments, smashed all of them down.”
Guan Si’er gasped, and after a long while asked in disbelief, “He just smashed them down?”
The Sixth Prince, full of admiration, said, “Yes, one at a time—boom! Boom! Left huge craters in the ground. Didn’t you go look?”
Guan Si’er shook his head, picking up a red-glaze vase in one hand and waving it: “Like this? Bronze lions?”
The Sixth Prince fell silent, stroking his chin with a sigh: “Actually… if not becoming an immortal, being that kind of person would be good too…”
But before Guan Si’er could respond, a little eunuch came rushing in from outside the courtyard and hurried up to the Sixth Prince: “Sixth Prince, someone’s come again out front… right at the gate of Changxin Hall, demanding people from His Majesty, saying they’re from the Nine Provinces.”
The vase in Guan Si’er’s hand dropped and shattered, red shards scattering across the floor.
At the gate of Changxin Hall, a gaunt, skeletal old man descended from the sky. He arrived like a ghostly apparition, yet caused no disturbance, simply making his way to the center of the courtyard and sitting down calmly, silent, with all the air of an eccentric hermit of old.
The palace guards noticed him and moved to question and detain him, but before they could get close, an invisible barrier of energy repelled them, and not one of them could take a single step further. More and more came, and none could approach either.
That day, the Emperor had been attending to state affairs in the Dongming Hall, receiving the Tan family’s nephews, when suddenly urgent word came from outside that a malicious guest had appeared at Changxin Hall. A leader among the hidden guards came out, urgently requesting the imperial carriage withdraw for now… Just as he spoke, from outside came Meng Dichen and Gu Hongyun as well—two men who normally didn’t get along, but today found themselves in rare agreement.
That person was from the Nine Provinces. They couldn’t handle this.
Emperor Wu looked earnestly at Gu Hongyun and asked, “Even you can’t manage it?”
Gu Hongyun drew a breath. “Reporting to Your Majesty, the Nine Provinces predates even Huguo Temple itself. Even if Great Master Xuan Shan were reborn, bringing his twenty-four disciples to protect Your Majesty, they might have some chance of resisting them.”
Having said this, he glanced around and, with great gravity, said to Emperor Wu, “Your Majesty, the situation is critical—might we invite that sage from the other night to come defend us once more?”
At this, Emperor Wu fell into a long silence. In truth, he too wished he could find that person—he’d even, out of consideration for that person’s tastes, had food boxes placed on nearly every rooftop these past few days. But alas, no one had come to eat them.
And now the people of the Nine Provinces had come, and he couldn’t find that expert—what was he to do? Could it be that the mighty Emperor of Daliang would truly have to hide away?
His mind in turmoil, he sat in silence for a long while before slowly rising. Everyone else could hide, but he could not.
Yet just as he stepped out of Dongming Hall, a guard came running up with an urgent report: “Reporting to Your Majesty, Marquis Chen of the Long Blade Office has gone alone, blade in hand, to face the enemy!”
Emperor Wu was taken aback, looking at the messenger. “What did you say?”
The guard raised his head and reported, “Reporting to Your Majesty, Marquis Chen said: ‘My lord, ruler of this nation, need only remain at Dongming Hall and continue attending to your affairs. As for these lesser threats, the blade that protects the nation shall handle them—I will surely clear the path for my lord!'”
Outside Changxin Hall, some two zhang away from the gaunt old man, feathered arrows lay scattered across the ground—unable to advance, unable even to strike from a distance. Layer upon layer of guards stood grim-faced with blades raised, surrounding him, yet the old man remained seated with eyes closed, as though enjoying a mountain breeze in the wilds.
Finally someone shouted: “Marquis Chen is here, Marquis Chen is here…”
Only then did the old man’s ears twitch slightly.
It was in just such a moment that Chen Dasheng passed through the ring of guards and slowly entered the courtyard. He walked forward step by step, and before the eyes of everyone present, entered the circle as though on a leisurely stroll. Complaints turned to astonishment, then to wild delight.
The seated old man finally opened his eyes slowly, looking at the newcomer and asking, “It was you, that night?”
Chen Dasheng smiled, walked up to him, and sat down calmly facing him too, saying, “An unwelcome guest arrives at my door, and yet you ask who I am first?”
The old man smiled. “I am Fenyan of the Nine Provinces.”
Chen Dasheng considered this and nodded. “The one who digs pits and builds graves?”
The old man remained smiling. “You should read more.”
The corner of Chen Dasheng’s mouth curved up as he slowly began removing the imperial-bestowed armor, mask, and fine brocade outer robe from his body.
As he shed the armor, he said, “The Rites of Zhou records: there is the office of Grand Minister, who oversees the maps of the nation’s territory and its population, using the maps of all the land under heaven to comprehensively understand the breadth and extent of the Nine Provinces’ territory, distinguishing the names and features of mountains and forests, rivers and marshes, hills and mounds, level plains and burial grounds, plains and wetlands…”
With his heavy armor set aside, Chen Dasheng, now in a patched cloth robe, blade on his back, bare feet on the ground, sat once more before the old man and smiled: “I’ve read books too.”
The old man laughed. “Not bad, you.”
Chen Dasheng’s mouth curved slightly: “Do you know?”
The old man said coldly: “Know what?”
Chen Dasheng said solemnly: “You’ve broken the law.”
The old man sneered disdainfully: “So what?”
Chen Dasheng smiled: “Screw you!”
Neither of them had bothered to lower their voices during this exchange, and once Chen Dasheng finished speaking, the entire courtyard drew a collective gasp.
Finally, anger flashed in the old man’s eyes. With a sweep of his sleeve, a judge’s writing brush dropped out from within, and he lunged at Chen Dasheng without mercy.
In the time it takes to tell it, the old man swept his sleeve and every brick in the courtyard floor rose into the air at once. He struck out—Guan Si’er had only just arrived and was about to leap in to help, but by then Chen Dasheng had already made his move.
There was no other motion—just a single sound that everyone could hear, the click of a steel blade being drawn from its sheath, and Chen Dasheng had already struck…
Outside Changxin Hall, countless bricks crashed back down to the ground. The gaunt old man’s eyes were filled with shock; without turning around, he asked with difficulty: “…Who?”
Chen Dasheng gave his long blade two shakes and said disdainfully, “I am the Xiezhi of Daliang, guarding my lord’s safety in full, defending the dignity of Daliang’s law! You, grave-digger—your Nine Provinces met its end long ago!”
As he finished speaking, a line of blood began to appear right between the old man’s eyebrows, and his entire body split cleanly in two, falling to the ground on either side.