The sword in Gongshu Yingying’s hand was dripping with blood, yet she felt no particular satisfaction — she found these two men far too easy to kill, without even the faintest sense of accomplishment.

Shi Su collapsed. Chen Youwei collapsed. The life drained from both men quickly; the wounds were through the heart. The two men were of similar height, and the angle of that single thrust had been carefully aimed, so not even the gods could have saved them.

In that moment, Gang Cai’s eyes snapped wide open. His old companion had fallen right before him.

“Old Chen!”

Gang Cai let out a wrenching cry, his voice cracking apart.

Chen Youwei, lying on the ground, struggled to lift his head. His gaze searched the room. His last words were — *Gang, you old dog. Run.*

Gongshu Yingying shook her head with regret. “I thought men like you would be cautious and meticulous. But to my surprise, it only cost fifty taels of silver to learn your whereabouts. Those friends of yours in the jianghu aren’t particularly reliable.”

She shifted her gaze from Shi Su and Chen Youwei to Gang Gang. “I’m curious — why did you bring people back here?”

Gang Gang glared at her with fury, then let out a roar and charged straight at her.

“Run, both of you!”

At the same moment, Gang Cai thrust both hands outward — left and right — and seized Chen Youwei and Gang Gang, yanking them back. Using the momentum of pulling them, he launched himself forward. As he surged ahead, he reached down and unhooked the pipe hanging from his belt.

His pipe was unusual — nearly two feet long, with a sizable bowl — yet the bowl was perfectly clean, without a trace of ever having been smoked.

Gongshu Yingying retreated a step. She disliked open, face-to-face combat like this; it was not her habit of killing. She was more like a wraith — capable of approaching her target in absolute silence and striking with a single fatal blow.

She could conceal herself for days for the sake of a kill. Once she had hidden submerged in water for a full day and night, her body swollen and bloated from soaking, neither eating nor drinking, barely moving, surviving only through a single hollow reed for breath.

Her patience surpassed anyone’s. She could spend many days killing a single person.

The instant Gang Cai came charging at her, she immediately withdrew — and the men behind her surged forward.

Gang Cai swung the pipe. The bowl cracked squarely into the temple of the first man, precise and savage. That man dropped sideways to the ground at once.

Second strike — the bowl hammered down on another man’s wrist. The wrist bones shattered instantly, and the long saber in that hand fell clattering to the ground.

The bowl came up and smashed hard into the man’s throat. A muffled grunt squeezed out of his windpipe, and then he toppled backward.

A third killer rushed forward and drove a kick into Gang Cai’s chest. Gang Cai twisted aside to dodge it, and his pipe came down — the bowl crashing into the man’s kneecap with a sharp crack. The bone shattered on the spot.

An instant later, the bowl swung upward and connected with the throat, identical to the one before — no visible wound to speak of, yet the man fell and could not rise, blood welling steadily from his mouth with each breath.

After killing three men in rapid succession, Gang Cai retreated two steps. It had been far too long since he had moved like this. The hand gripping the pipe trembled faintly.

He glanced back and found that Gang Gang and Chen Youwei had not fled. One on each side, they were blocking enemies attacking from the flanks, eyes round and wide.

“You two little bastards — why haven’t you run!”

Gang Gang wrapped his arms around an enemy’s waist, brought him crashing to the ground, mounted him, and drove fist after fist into the man’s face until it was covered in blood. His own knuckles were soaked in blood too.

“I’m not leaving!”

He kept shouting even as he kept swinging.

In the moment Gang Cai turned to speak, a slender figure darted out from the crowd — a long sword striking like a viper, aimed straight at Gang Cai’s throat.

*Clang!*

The sword was knocked aside by something and swept off at an angle.

Gongshu Yingying’s eyes went wide. The strike had been flawless — she had seized that split-second opening perfectly. Xu Yuanqing had said as much: there were few in this world more skilled at killing than Gongshu Yingying. She was the most lethal woman alive. Her ability to seize an opportunity was matched by almost no one.

Yet the sword had been deflected — and what she saw stopped her cold. The one who had intervened was Yao Busheng.

“Yao Busheng!”

Gongshu Yingying’s voice turned furious. “What do you think you’re doing!”

Yao Busheng glanced at the blade in his hand — a saber he had just scooped up off the ground. It didn’t suit him at all. He was accustomed to a sword: light and nimble. A saber was heavy and awkward, not his way. But his sword had probably been left behind at the carriage inn. He was beginning to miss it.

“What am I doing?”

Yao Busheng gave a cold snort. “You came here to kill and silence witnesses, and you ask me what I’m doing? Am I supposed to stand here and let you do it? Just let you kill me?”

Gongshu Yingying said, “The master gave the order — Shi Su must die, because he knew too much. But you’re different. The master still has use for you.”

“Fine.”

Yao Busheng said that one word, then followed it with a few more.

“Fine, what utter horseshit. You have use for me now, but once I become the next Shi Su, you’ll come back to kill me then?”

He brought the saber swinging down at Gongshu Yingying. “Go to hell!”

Gongshu Yingying flicked her long sword upward with a *clang*, batting the saber aside. Without the slightest hesitation, she retreated again — and the surging mass of men behind her swallowed her silhouette, as though she had sunk beneath water.

Yao Busheng struck again and again, but the saber truly was awkward in his hand. Sword techniques favored the thrust; saber techniques favored the hack and slash. A man seen slashing wildly with a sword is almost certainly someone who doesn’t know how to use one. He was applying sword forms to a saber, and the thrusts came out feeling distinctly wrong.

“Benefactor.”

Yao Busheng stabbed an enemy through, then looked at the slightly winded Gang Cai. “Retreat into the room. Hold the doorway and windows.”

Gang Cai answered and called out to Gang Gang and Chen Youwei to fall back. The three of them filed into the room one after another. Yao Busheng pulled back to the doorway and stopped retreating. He planted himself there — a single man standing like a fortified gate.

“Benefactor.”

Yao Busheng drove his saber through another enemy. He didn’t turn around. He looked out at the seemingly endless tide of men rushing toward him, and suddenly smiled.

“That life — I’m returning it to you. From this moment, we owe each other nothing.”

He cut down the man charging straight at him, then raked a second man’s face with a horizontal sweep — left to right — splitting it open in a jagged gash.

Yao Busheng called out loudly, “Go — get out through the rear window.”

Gang Cai shouted, “Move!”

Gang Gang and Chen Youwei exchanged a look. Both moved to drag Gang Cai back, but Gang Cai had already lunged to Yao Busheng’s side in one step. He turned to look at his two disciples, his eyes full of reluctance.

“Go. Old Chen is dead — I have to get his body back. Once you’re out, find help. Find whoever you think can be trusted. If they’re willing to come, that means they’re worth following. Go.”

He ducked down, slipped out past Yao Busheng into the courtyard, turned and shut the door behind him, then latched the lock on the outside.

Gang Cai tightened his grip on the pipe stem. He looked out at the courtyard — packed solid with enemies — and let his gaze travel to where his old companion lay.

“Young Master Yao, this is fate, I suppose.”

Gang Cai drew a deep breath, then charged toward Chen Youwei’s body. Only three steps away — yet every inch of those three steps was filled with enemies.

The bowl crushed one down, then another — but the enemies seemed to have no fear of death. When the numbers grew large enough, courage came cheap. They fell, and more stepped over them.

After killing six or seven men, Gang Cai realized he had only advanced one step. His old companion was still two steps away.

His old companion’s body had been trampled by countless feet. The sight made his eyes go bloodshot in an instant.

“Every last one of you — die!”

He bit down hard and drove forward.

Behind him, Yao Busheng called out, “Don’t be reckless!”

There was nothing reckless about it. It was simply the only way it could have been.

Many years ago, Gang Cai had been squatting in that alley when he asked Chen Youwei: “After what we did — are we people who’ve betrayed our master and forsaken our sect? If there’s retribution for that, the two of us should die with no body left whole.”

Chen Youwei had smiled. “If we’re both dead, what does it matter whether there’s a body left whole?”

Gang Cai said, “That’s not what I mean. I’m not afraid of dying. I just think — dying as ugly as we did, someone ought to clean us up a little.”

Chen Youwei said, “You’re the ugly one. When I die, it’ll be beautifully — because I’m a far better-looking man than you. Even in death, I’ll be clean and spotless. Not a speck of filth on me. Better than you, at least — this dashing and handsome face of mine will be clean and spotless.”

Gang Cai curled his lip. “Ha. Pfft.”

Chen Youwei burst out laughing.

“Let’s take on some disciples.”

Gang Cai said, “Tell them what it really means that even thieves have their code. And tell them that the Thousand-Door Sect and the Sparrow Sect — they should never have existed. After we’re gone, let them each find their own way. When we die, all we want is to die clean. But if we take on disciples, we ought to let them live clean.”

“All right.”

Chen Youwei smiled, then suddenly spotted two filthy little children squatting by the roadside not far away — five or six years old, faces sallow, clothes in tatters. He had no idea what had brought them so low.

“Hey, kids!”

Chen Youwei called out to them. “Come here — want something to eat?”

The two children came running over at once. Both of their faces were absolutely filthy, but their eyes were so bright, so clear.

“Are you two brothers?”

“No, we just met. He gave me a piece of flatbread and said once I ate it, I’d be his underling.”

The child who spoke was Chen Dawei. The child who had given away his own flatbread while going hungry himself was Gang Gang.

“Come with us from now on.”

Chen Youwei looked them both over, then pointed. “This better-looking one is mine. That blockhead-looking one is yours.”

Gang Gang asked, “You’ll really feed us proper?”

“Really!”

“Then fine, I’ll go with anyone.”

Chen Youwei burst out laughing, pointing at the shorter one. “From now on you’ll take the family name Chen. Your name is… Dawei — Great Achievement. Your master is Chen Youwei — ‘has great purpose.’ You need to have greater purpose than me. Your name is Dawei. Chen Dawei.”

Gang Cai laughed. “Then this little rascal is Gang Gang — I’m Gang Cai, so he’s Gang Gang. Tomorrow we take these two to squat outside old Wang’s tavern and have them leave a couple of piles in front of his door. That old miser won’t even pour us a drink on credit. When he asks who did it, just say it was Chen Dawei and Gang Gang.”

He laughed and asked his future disciple: “What do you think of that name I picked for you? ‘Chen Dawei and Gang Gang left a pile’ — Chen Dawei’s obviously the one who gets beaten.”

He laughed until he was doubled over.

Gang Gang grinned widely: feed me proper and I’ll answer to anything.

Chen Dawei grinned too, dazed and simple: feed me proper and who leaves it doesn’t matter.

In the courtyard, Gang Cai killed another seven or eight men — and could see he was almost at his old companion’s side. From his flank, a sword darted out like a viper and pierced his side with a soft *thud*. His body went rigid. He glanced down at it — and paid it no mind. He took that one step forward through sheer will and reached Chen Youwei’s side.

He fell there beside him, lifted his hand, and began wiping at Chen Youwei’s face — trampled and filthy — again and again.

“Old dog, you said… when you died, you’d be clean and spotless. Look at you. How filthy you are… What would you ever do without me.”

The more he wiped, the more blood spread across Chen Youwei’s face.

“Why won’t it… come clean.”

Gang Cai lay down beside Chen Youwei. His hand went still.

—