The name Liu Yingzhan had been given to him by the Yuwens. His true name was Gu Da’ang, and he came from Tubo nobility.

He and his group had been infiltrating the Central Plains for over ten years, with one purpose: to accelerate the fracturing of the powerful Chu dynasty.

When they arrived in the Central Plains, their delight knew no bounds — because by then, Dachu already resembled a dying patient, consumed by festering wounds, whose only remaining comfort was the memory of its former invincibility.

The Tubo Kingdom had invaded the western frontier of the Central Plains many times, and had been driven back each time with devastating losses. Eventually, the Tubo national preceptor — who was also the master of the Camel Sect — presented a solution to the Tubo king.

When the Central Plains people face an external enemy, he said, they become unified beyond all expectation. But when facing internal strife, they have no answer at all.

If the goal was to bring about Dachu’s collapse — and thereby achieve Tubo’s ambition of seizing the western regions of the Central Plains — the only way to do it was to ensure that Dachu was destroyed by its own people.

The Tubo king took the preceptor’s advice. He submitted a letter of formal vassalage to Dachu and sent an endless stream of tribute to the capital, including thirty-six carefully selected beauties — each one exceptional in both appearance and skill.

These thirty-six women also carried a mission: to obtain the Emperor’s favor at any cost.

The preceptor had observed that when it came to ruining a nation, women appeared to be more efficient than men.

The thirty-six Tubo beauties lived up to expectations. They had not been in the Dachu capital long before the Emperor was completely enthralled. An Emperor who had never been particularly diligent about court audiences then achieved the remarkable feat of not leaving his bed for three days and three nights.

From that point forward, the Emperor’s health declined by the day.

More astonishing still: the imperial physicians discovered that these Western women had been secretly feeding the Emperor medicinal compounds, claiming the preparations would make him more vigorous. But taken over extended periods, no body could withstand them.

By rights, this should have warranted severe punishment — charges of treason would not have been excessive.

Yet this Emperor actually spoke in defense of these Western women, insisting they had only acted out of care for him and a desire for him to live long.

After establishing himself in the capital for a period, Liu Yingzhan set his sights on the Yuwen family. This clan controlled nearly half the power in the Dachu court. Control the Yuwens, and Dachu’s internal conflicts would intensify of their own accord.

Thirteen years later, his position within the Yuwen family had become significant. By this time, Prince Yu’s intentions toward an uprising were becoming clearer, and the Yuwens accordingly sent Liu Yingzhan and his senior martial brother Jing Yanli to Jizhou — to support Prince Yu, and to watch him.

Prince Yu understood perfectly well why the Yuwens had sent men. He retained Liu Yingzhan; Liu Yingzhan then recommended his senior martial brother Jing Yanli to the Prince, and so both men entered Prince Yu’s household in due course.

Prince Yu, naturally, did not place either man in any position of real importance. Both were assigned to Shengchang Grain Store.

What Liu Yingzhan had not anticipated was that here in this small county town of Pingchang, he would encounter trouble of this magnitude.

He had believed that these Central Plains people were all broken — that they had lost their backbone, their will to fight, even their capacity to unite.

But today he had seen the backbone of the Central Plains people. Their will. And their unity.

“Is everyone accounted for?” Liu Yingzhan asked.

His subordinate replied: “A hundred and thirty have come back. About forty or fifty had been sent out earlier and haven’t made contact — probably too far away to hear the signal.”

Liu Yingzhan said: “Leave them. Everyone listen to my orders. Twenty to the rear, twenty to the front, the rest form the center. Whatever appears in front of us — shoot on sight.”

“Yes!”

His people responded immediately.

At that moment, they heard the slow sound of hoofbeats.

Shortly, at the intersection ahead, a figure appeared — looking somewhat relaxed, one hand holding the reins, the other gripping a blade resting on his shoulder.

The rider stopped at the intersection, looked in their direction, then raised his hand and gestured with his little finger.

“Shoot!”

Liu Yingzhan gave the order. The twenty men at the front raised their bows — but by the time they had arrows nocked, the rider had already passed through the intersection. The volley fell on empty road.

On the roof of a building nearby, Li Chi lay flat and assessed. The enemy was too numerous; he had no intention of charging in recklessly.

When Liu Yingzhan’s group accelerated in pursuit of Zhuang Wudi, Li Chi swept off the rooftop, killed three at the rear in rapid succession, and vanished into a side alley.

“He’s at the back!”

The rear guards shouted immediately.

Liu Yingzhan’s group halted. He took men to support the rear, pushed into the alley — no trace of Li Chi anywhere.

At that moment Zhuang Wudi reappeared, vaulting over a courtyard wall, swinging his blade through three or four enemies before dropping back into the courtyard.

“He’s here!”

The front guards shouted.

Liu Yingzhan’s group withdrew from the alley and went to the front — where, beside the bodies on the ground, the enemy had left no trace at all.

“We’ve been played.”

Liu Yingzhan said: “Whatever happens — remember our target is Yue Huanian. Stop paying attention to anyone else.”

He led the group forward in search, moving slowly down the main street, watching carefully in all directions.

At that moment, a sound came from a side alley. They immediately swung around and loosed arrows into it — the noise of the volley was continuous and prolonged. But when they looked, the alley held nothing but arrows.

No sign of anyone. They continued searching forward.

Once the group had moved on, Li Chi dropped down from a roof. He had grabbed a bow during the earlier fighting — he was short on arrows, but a quick search of the alley floor turned up dozens that had missed their mark. He tied them off and ran toward the tallest wooden building in Pingchang County.

The county town wasn’t large, and with Zhuang Wudi deliberately drawing the enemies in this direction, it wasn’t long before Li Chi had eyes on Liu Yingzhan’s group again. He lay prone on the rooftop, took aim, and sent an arrow.

The arrow came fast and hard — but Liu Yingzhan’s skills were genuine, and his senses were sharp. He heard the bowstring and dropped into a crouch immediately, both hands protecting his head.

The person behind him took the arrow through the body with enough force to nearly pass completely through.

“On that rooftop!”

Liu Yingzhan pointed.

Over a hundred fighters responded immediately, sending a volley up at the rooftop. But at that height, the arrows posed little real threat to Li Chi.

He lay flat on the roof and watched them pass overhead one by one.

The moment the volley stopped, Li Chi returned fire in a rapid sequence — each arrow found its mark.

Liu Yingzhan was approaching the edge of his patience. He had not wanted to engage this inexplicable intruder at all — killing Yue Huanian was the urgent priority — but ignoring the man on the roof meant enduring continuous harassment from above.

“Storm the building!”

More than a hundred dark-clad fighters attacked the wooden building. Li Chi killed several more as they rushed in, but numbers were getting through; fighters were already climbing the stairs inside and heading up. From the top floor they could exit through a window onto the roof.

At this moment, Zhuang Wudi rode past the outside of the building on horseback, raising a captured crossbow and shooting in a rapid sequence at the fighters on the walls and climbing the outside face. Four or five of them screamed and fell.

Li Chi had exhausted his arrows. He drew his long blade and stood at the center of the rooftop to wait. From this position, the surrounding eaves blocked his silhouette from the fighters below — they couldn’t see him, and therefore he had no arrows to worry about.

What remained was straightforward: kill each one as it appeared.

This terrain was something Li Chi had identified while riding Shen Diao with Yue Huanian. He had confirmed its utility and filed it away.

Liu Yingzhan stood in the street below and watched. A cry came from above, and a body tumbled rolling from the rooftop, hit the ground near him with a crash that sent dust flying.

It did not stop. Bodies continued to roll down — the sloped eaves made movement difficult at the best of times; once one fell, it slid down and off. They fell like dumplings being dropped into a pot, one after another hitting the ground, some still twitching, most completely still.

By the time Liu Yingzhan realized something was wrong, it was too late. All hundred-plus of his men had gone into the building. The rooftop gradually fell quiet — no more battle cries, no more bodies rolling down.

Liu Yingzhan looked around. The ground was covered with bodies, every one killed with a single cut, every cut at the throat.

At that moment, Liu Yingzhan looked up and saw the figure at the roof’s edge — the demon-face mask. His pupils contracted slightly.

A moment later, Liu Yingzhan turned and ran at full speed toward the north gate.

When he reached the north gate, he found the drop-stone was already down. Sitting on the abandoned carts they had left blocking the gate earlier was the man on horseback — blade still on his shoulder.

That man raised his hand again and waggled his little finger.

Liu Yingzhan walked forward with his wolf-tooth mace. “You two,” he said as he approached, “killed this many of my people. Impressive, truly. But do you know whose people I am? Do you know whose people you’ve been killing? You will pay a price for this. I don’t need to explain what that price looks like.”

Zhuang Wudi couldn’t be bothered to speak.

Liu Yingzhan called out loudly: “I serve Prince Yu’s household. All of them served Prince Yu’s household. You understand what that means for you.”

Zhuang Wudi still said nothing. He raised his hand and pointed — past Liu Yingzhan, toward the other side.

Liu Yingzhan turned. The figure in the demon-face mask was walking toward him, blade in hand, blood still dripping from it.

The mask, the blade, the walk — about seven parts imposing.

Had Li Chi not opened his mouth, the seven parts might have held longer.

“Put down your weapon,” Li Chi said. “You are surrounded.”

Liu Yingzhan looked at Li Chi, then looked back at Zhuang Wudi, and burst out laughing. “Just the two of you?”

Li Chi whistled — and jammed his fingers into the mask. He lifted the lower half of the mask to expose his mouth, whistled properly, and put the mask back down. From the left, a pig trotted up. From the right, a falcon descended.

“I told you,” said Li Chi. “You are surrounded.”

Liu Yingzhan looked at the pig. His fury ignited.

“Who exactly are you people insulting?!”

Zhuang Wudi spun his blade once in his grip and rose to fight.

Li Chi waved him off. “I’ll handle this. Good chance to test whether there’s been any improvement lately.”

Zhuang Wudi sat back down.

Li Chi: “You could at least pretend to object a little.”

Zhuang Wudi: “Heh.”

Li Chi sighed and walked toward Liu Yingzhan.

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