Traveling southeast from Jizhou, after roughly six or seven hundred li, the landscape and local customs began to change.

The people here spoke with an accent entirely different from Jizhou’s—one where you could make out every individual word and still have no idea what the full sentence meant.

Fortunately, Li Chi had traveled extensively with his master in the past, encountered every kind of accent imaginable, and could still hold a conversation.

Here, rumors about the false Emperor of Men began multiplying by the day.

As always, they were woven together with legends of gods and supernatural beings—a method of forced mythologizing that felt more than a little crude.

After all, this false Emperor of Men had none of the Daoist arts that graced the little Zhenren of Dragon-Tiger Mountain.

The vanguard was led by Dantai Yajing, the rear by Yu Jiuling.

At Li Chi’s side rode Zhang Yuxu, junior apprentice brother Zhen Gen, Chen Dawei, Gang Gang, and others.

In the years when they’d still been running the carriage business, the manpower had seemed more than adequate—even abundant in talent.

But now that the operation had grown to this scale, Li Chi felt increasingly that the pool of capable men was genuinely too small.

Especially after Xiahou Zuo had gone to Youzhou, Zhuang Wudi to Jicheng, and Liu Ge to the northwest with his troops.

The only people left at his side who were truly capable of commanding troops in battle were Tang Pidi and Dantai Yajing.

It wasn’t that Zhen Gen and Chen Dawei lacked ability—their abilities simply lay elsewhere, not in leading men to war.

So Li Chi had been selecting talent within the army for some time now. But talent, as always, is found only when the moment is right—never simply sought out.

—

A village.

Li Chi sat in a small mud-walled courtyard, looking around. This household could genuinely be described as bare walls and empty floors.

An old man brought over a bowl of water. Li Chi quickly extended both hands to receive it.

“Old uncle,” Li Chi asked, “do you live here alone?”

“Just me,” the old man said, sitting down with a sigh. “If I could still manage heavy labor, I wouldn’t be sitting idle at home.”

“All the able-bodied young men in the village were conscripted to Jieshi Prefecture—they say there’s a great city being built there. Three taels of silver a month per person, and board provided.”

The old man went on, “Both my sons and their wives went. The village used to have six or seven hundred people. Now there are only two or three hundred. More than half are gone.”

Li Chi nodded slowly.

A great city being built in Jieshi Prefecture?

This false Emperor of Men was not without ability.

Rumor had it he’d declared his intention to march on Li Chi, yet after half a year, nothing had come of it. And now, word of construction—clearly no ambitions of a distant campaign. This man’s thinking ran deeper than it appeared.

“How long have they been gone?” Li Chi asked.

The old man answered, “Nearly a year now. Think about it—four people from this house, three taels of silver per month, nearly a year—each one could bring home thirty taels…”

At this point, the corners of the old man’s mouth curled into an involuntary smile.

“With that much, life would be so much easier.”

Li Chi, however, felt a quiet unease.

This village was still several hundred li from Jieshi Prefecture, and already its people had been drafted for labor. At that scale, how many could be assembled at the source?

At minimum, several tens of thousands—possibly as many as a million.

Even at a conservative estimate of five hundred thousand people, at thirty taels each: within less than a year, that would be at minimum fifteen million taels in expenditure.

Even the real Li Chi couldn’t produce that much silver, let alone a false one.

This also made plain just how staggering the cost of maintaining an army could be.

Three taels of silver per month was roughly the monthly salary of a regular Dachu garrison soldier.

To support an army of five hundred thousand—setting aside all other expenses, the wages alone came to one and a half million taels per month.

And so Li Chi concluded: the false Emperor of Men in Jieshi Prefecture almost certainly wasn’t actually paying.

He sighed inwardly. A great many of those villagers lured there under false pretenses probably had no road home.

Zhang Yuxu, standing at Li Chi’s side, asked, “Old uncle, aren’t you afraid of being deceived?”

The old man shook his head. “He’s the Emperor of Men—why would he deceive anyone?”

Li Chi understood then. The common people believed the Emperor of Men commanded the power of gods—capable even of summoning wind and rain. Surely such a being would never lack for money.

“Where are you all from?” the old man asked, his expression shifting slightly. It was clear the question had begun to make him suspicious.

He had initially assumed Li Chi’s party was from Jieshi Prefecture.

Li Chi smiled. “Just joking with you. We’re troops of the Emperor of Men—just on a routine inspection.”

The old man gave a sound of acknowledgment.

“Are there any other forces around here opposing the Emperor of Men?” Li Chi asked. “We’re on an inspection mission—just hoping you could tell us what you know, old uncle.”

“None nearby,” the old man said, shaking his head. “But if you’ve come from Jieshi Prefecture, you would have passed through Gaogāng County. There’s an Incense Table Mountain in Gaogāng County—they say a band of heroes is hiding in that mountain…”

Li Chi said, “I know about them. We haven’t dealt with them yet.”

The old man said, “People say the heroes on Incense Table Mountain are decent folk—they don’t harm common people. Don’t go killing the wrong ones.”

Li Chi gave a sound of acknowledgment.

He glanced over at his junior apprentice brother Zhen Gen, who immediately understood. He sent someone ahead to the vanguard to pass word to Dantai Yajing: look into that band on Incense Table Mountain.

—

Two days later. Gaogāng County.

Li Chi arrived at the county seat with his personal guard, finding Dantai Yajing waiting at the gates.

“Same story inside the county walls,” Dantai Yajing said. “Only the elderly and infirm remain. Who knows what that Li Chi imposter is plotting—mobilizing labor on such a massive scale.”

He looked at Li Chi. “At tens of thousands of workers and about a year in, even building something the size of Jizhou City would be nearly complete.”

Li Chi nodded.

“Have you looked into the people on Incense Table Mountain?”

Dantai Yajing said, “I have. It turns out they’re not mountain bandits at all—they’re the county magistrate of Gaogāng County and his people.”

Li Chi was taken aback.

What kind of situation was this?

The imperial court grants a rebel lord the title of prince, while the legitimate officials end up living as outlaws.

Dantai Yajing continued, “The county magistrate of Gaogāng County is named He Dengke. He came to Gaogāng County to serve as an official roughly six or seven years ago.”

“The man has considerable ability. Knowing the age was turbulent, he trained a militia force of over eight hundred men.”

“In the beginning, it was this militia that fended off one wave of roving bandits after another.”

“But later, as the rebel forces from Jieshi Prefecture grew stronger, his eight hundred were no longer of much use.”

“Last year, one of the rebel generals—a man named Yin Rong—marched an army of thirty thousand through these parts, conscripting laborers as he went.”

“When he reached here, He Dengke and his men tried to dissuade the villagers from going. Yin Rong was furious and brought his forces to attack.”

“He Dengke withdrew with his men and the county’s residents into Incense Table Mountain—but many of the common people believed the Emperor of Men wouldn’t harm them, and refused to follow.”

Dantai Yajing said, “The further we go, the clearer it becomes—that imposter who stole your name has deceived countless people using the title of Emperor of Men.”

Li Chi gave a sound of acknowledgment.

“Let’s go to Incense Table Mountain. I want to pay He Dengke a visit.”

—

Two hours later. Incense Table Mountain.

Li Chi’s forces halted at the foot of the mountain. He raised his telescope and scanned the slopes above.

Incense Table Mountain got its name from its shape—the peak resembled a table used to hold incense offerings, with a strikingly flat summit. The terrain was formidable, with only a single path up or down, making it an ideal defensive stronghold.

Li Chi urged his horse forward. Dantai Yajing caught his arm.

“Let me go.”

Dantai Yajing looked at Li Chi. “You can’t take risks like this.”

Li Chi said, “Rubbish.”

Dantai Yajing said, “You’re Prince Ning. Commander of the three armies. The supreme commander of Jizhou. Could you try to have a little self-awareness?”

Li Chi said, “I’ll have some tomorrow.”

He spurred his horse forward in a burst. Dantai Yajing failed to hold on, and Li Chi was already out ahead.

This horse had been a gift from Borte Chino to both Li Chi and Gao Xining—a truly exceptional animal.

Li Chi rode up the path. Dantai Yajing, unwilling to let him go alone, brought men after him.

Li Chi said not too many should follow—they didn’t want to alarm anyone—so only a few dozen guards came along.

After about three or four li, the path became too steep for horses. They dismounted and continued on foot.

That was when someone appeared on a high ridge above.

The figure was dressed in a short working coat, with a bow on his back, a blade at his hip, and a hunting fork in hand.

“You’d better not come any closer,” the figure, who looked like a hunter, shouted down at Li Chi and his party. “If you do, you’ll all die.”

Li Chi looked up. “We’re not here to fight. We’re not from Jieshi Prefecture. We’ve come from Jizhou, to visit He Dengke.”

“From Jizhou?”

The hunter studied them—a few dozen people in all, well-equipped and formidable-looking, but still just a few dozen. He concluded they couldn’t do much.

“A thousand li from Jizhou, and you expect me to just take your word for it?” he called back.

Li Chi said, “Then what would convince you?”

The hunter said, “One person comes up alone. Everyone else stays put.”

Li Chi said, “Agreed.”

Dantai Yajing said, “Not agreed.”

The hunter gave a dismissive sound. “It’s not up to either of you. If you agree, one of you walks up alone. If you don’t, I’ll have you all tied up and carried up here. If it turns out you have ill intentions, we’ll carry you back out and toss you into the ravine.”

Li Chi let out a quiet sigh.

He looked at the hunter. “I’m perfectly willing to go up alone—I have no hostile intentions.”

He paused, then added, “But you shouldn’t make claims you can’t back up.”

The hunter laughed. “Claims I can’t back up? If you think I’m bluffing, see for yourself.”

He raised a hand and gave a sharp, piercing whistle.

“Look around you,” the hunter called. “I’m giving you fair warning.”

Li Chi said, “Look at what? People falling from the sky?”

His words had barely left his mouth when a figure fell from a nearby tree, landing on the ground with a heavy thud.

That was only the beginning. From the trees all around, figures began dropping one after another—like dumplings being tossed into a pot.

These figures fell as though they’d suddenly turned to wood—not a single one struggled on the way down.

The hunter’s expression changed.

From the places where his comrades had been hidden, figures appeared clad in long black robes—cold and ghostly.

They dropped from the trees and bowed low before Li Chi.

Li Chi waved his hand. The black-robed figures immediately withdrew, vanishing like a gust of wind, dissolving into nothing.

Li Chi looked up at the hunter. “I said I’d go up alone. I will.”

He stepped forward.

Well. That settled things neatly: the better part of a hundred people had just been dropped from the trees, and they were now in Li Chi’s hands.

Li Chi was going up alone—but with over a hundred hostages in tow.

He walked up to the hunter, who was visibly shaken, and said with complete sincerity, “Next time, don’t make claims you can’t back up.”

He asked, “Which way do we go?”

The hunter shook his head to clear it, then turned to Li Chi. “Who are you? Why did you come here?!”

Li Chi answered, “I’m a great landowner. Why am I here? I’m simply taking a walk through my own territory.”

—