Half a year passed.

By the calendar, it was now deep autumn in the tenth month in Jizhou—harvest season.

The weather could be called pleasant, though a last lingering trace of summer warmth remained. Those laboring in the fields to bring in the harvest still sweated through their work.

But the weariness of harvest was nothing beside its joy.

Liangzhou City.

Here, the tenth month had already turned quite cold. Situated at the far northwestern frontier of Dachu, the city had welcomed its first snowfall at the very start of the month.

Fortunately, Liangzhou City’s supply reserves were ample—especially since receiving support from Jizhou two years prior, there had been even less to worry about.

The soldiers guarding this frontier had nothing weighing on their minds, so their spirits were considerably better.

There were many street foods here that you couldn’t find in Jizhou City. They looked extraordinarily tempting—the smell alone was enough to make your mouth water.

Along the roadside, no shortage of vendors sold hot cooked food: stuffed tripe, lamb offal, steaming hot in their pots, ready to eat the moment you bought them.

A squad leader led his dozen or so Liangzhou Army soldiers to a lamb offal stall by the road.

They sat down in a circle. The squad leader smiled and said: “Pay day was yesterday—today, this meal is on me.”

They had been on duty through the night—more than ten men who’d endured a cold night watch with empty stomachs.

With hot meat sitting right in front of them, several stomachs were already growling.

The squad leader was a capable-looking man, appearing to be around thirty, with a thick beard, his bearing carrying a certain natural authority.

Then again, those who’d been stationed at this frontier long enough developed a look of age regardless. Men in their twenties could look like thirty-year-olds—skin rough and cracked and weathered.

The stall owner saw that several soldiers had come and hurried to serve them.

First, a bowl of piping-hot lamb broth for each person—no charge, complimentary.

The broth went down, warmth spreading through the belly, and the body began to thaw out quickly.

“Owner, your broth is excellent.”

The squad leader smiled: “Keep it coming—we’ll eat our fill and I’ll settle up when we’re done.”

The people running businesses in Liangzhou City all had a soft spot for the Liangzhou Army. Without the Liangzhou Army, who knew whether the Western Region fighters would have already cut through long ago.

The Liangzhou Army was a pillar holding up the sky in the northwest—to the common people, they were guardian protectors.

The owner smiled in that honest, unassuming way, not particularly articulate, but that clean uncomplicated smile was more than enough.

The soldiers chattered about the news from a few days back—apparently the young general had returned, and the great general had been overjoyed.

The rumor said the young general had come back to investigate something, to hunt someone down. They suspected this person had made his way to Liangzhou.

The squad leader sighed: “I haven’t seen the young general yet myself, but they say his martial skill is second to none. For someone like that to come personally in pursuit—just thinking about how formidable that target must be.”

Just as they were talking, a man with an enormous pack on his back sat down at the stall.

He took a table to himself. His face was dark from weathering, and he had pulled his neck scarf up fairly high—perhaps to keep out the wind and sand.

He was tall, lean in a way that made his frame seem even larger. He sat down and called out to the owner: “Bring some food—I’m hungry.”

The Liangzhou Army squad leader looked at him. The accent was off—this man didn’t sound local to Liangzhou. From his clothing, he’d clearly been travelling hard and long, with no telling how far he’d come.

“Where are you from?”

The squad leader asked.

It seemed to be the natural wariness of someone in their line of work. This lone traveler had something unsettling about him.

The man smiled: “I’m from the Central Plains, sir.”

The squad leader made a sound in his throat: “The Central Plains is a big place. Whereabouts in the Central Plains?”

He turned to look at the man, and behind his back made a subtle hand signal. The other Liangzhou Army soldiers quietly took their weapons in hand.

The man smiled and said: “A small county town—not far, actually. You’d know it, sir… it’s in Dongguo County.”

The squad leader’s brow furrowed.

“Dongguo County?”

Behind the squad leader, a Liangzhou Army soldier stood up and took a sheet of paper from inside his jacket.

He looked at the paper, then looked at the man, then bent to the squad leader’s ear and said in a low voice: “The fugitive the young general has come back to track—he’s from Dongguo County. His name is Ekema.”

The squad leader made a small sound of acknowledgment, a glint of killing intent passing through his eyes.

“Come back to camp with us.”

The squad leader rose.

The man smiled: “Go back to your camp with you? I’d wager you don’t quite dare that. You’d kill me halfway there and say I’d resisted arrest.”

He pulled the scarf down from his neck to reveal a face that looked as though it had weathered many storms. Scraggly beard, lips a little dry and cracked—and because he was so lean, his cheekbones seemed to jut out.

The squad leader’s hand moved toward the long blade on the table. His eyes had filled with killing intent. He could see that this man’s eyes had filled with it too.

“You don’t recognize me anymore, do you.”

The man said with a kind of pride: “I’ve been chasing you for half a year and lost at least a hundred jin. You can’t recognize me—that’s fair.”

He looked at the squad leader: “You shouldn’t be unfamiliar with Dongguo County.”

He reached into his chest and took something out, held it up briefly for the soldiers to see—their expressions shifted to confusion.

He tossed the object to one of the soldiers—it was a military identification tablet—then looked back at the squad leader.

Staring him dead in the eyes.

“Let me tell you a story… In Dongguo County, there were four orphans who grew up depending on one another. One of them was Ekema.”

His gaze swept across the Liangzhou Army soldiers.

“The name sounds familiar, doesn’t it? That’s right—it’s the very fugitive you were just mentioning.”

“This person was a good brother. When they were small, he’d often get his head beaten bloody trying to protect the others.”

“One day, he said he was leaving the village. He told the other three: I’m going to make something of myself. When I’ve risen to the top, I’ll come back for you—let you all live well.”

“He said: you three are the only people I care about in this life. I won’t forget you. Don’t forget me.”

“Later, they met again, by such coincidence. But Ekema—worried those three would ruin his future—laid hands on all three of them. Killed two. The third was lucky enough to survive.”

As he spoke, the man opened his coat. In that cold weather, he bared his chest—and on his chest was a scar the length of a forearm.

“Not unfamiliar, is it.”

The man looked at the squad leader: “Half a year. I’ve been chasing you for half a year. You’re genuinely remarkable—you managed to hide inside the Liangzhou Army itself, and make it to squad leader. If I hadn’t found you, in another couple of years you’d probably be a unit commander, a company officer, then a general someday. I knew it back when we trained together—that you’re the kind of person who doesn’t find it hard to become a general.”

He removed his upper garment, bare-chested in the cold.

Where the fat had once been, there was nothing left. The entire front of his torso was covered in tattoos.

They were portraits. Two of them.

The moment the squad leader saw those two tattooed portraits, his body swayed—instinctively stepping backward, knocking the table over.

He shouted: “Seize this man! He is the fugitive Ekema!”

The man rose too, rolling his shoulders.

“When we trained together, I could never beat you. I asked Master Xuanyuan—is someone like me never going to be able to defeat someone like you? Master Xuanyuan said: in a competition, you will never beat him. In a fight to the death, the outcome cannot be known.”

He looked into Ekema’s eyes: “At the time I told Master Xuanyuan—he and I, we’ll never have a fight to the death. He’s my brother. I may not be as good as he is—I accept that.”

Then, suddenly, he slammed both fists onto the table with full force.

With a thundering crash, the table shattered into pieces.

In the moment his fists fell, he let out a roar: “Come and fight!”

In that instant, the muscles of his arms surged.

On both arms, there were tattoos. On his left arm was tattooed *Liu the Sixth*—Great General. On his right arm was tattooed *Jiu the Ninth*—Great General.

Cheng Wujie’s eyes had gone blood red as he stared at Ekema: “I alone may not be able to kill you—but the three of us, here today, will kill you!”

Ekema tore his long blade free: “You refuse to leave me in peace!”

This slash carried the force of cleaving a mountain—directed straight at Cheng Wujie’s neck.

Cheng Wujie did not dodge at all. Instead, he strode forward, and sent his left fist driving toward Ekema’s throat.

If Ekema held his course, this slash would certainly kill Cheng Wujie—but Cheng Wujie’s fist landing on his throat would likewise mean certain death for him.

Ekema knew exactly how terrifying the force in Cheng Wujie’s left fist could be.

Cheng Wujie was unafraid of death. Ekema was.

So the blade momentum pulled back, his elbow dropping to drive into Cheng Wujie’s arm.

His elbow struck Cheng Wujie’s arm—by every expectation, that blow should have driven it down and aside.

But Cheng Wujie’s arm only shifted slightly—and the fist still drove through.

Ekema’s face went white with shock. He drove off his rear foot and stepped back, sweeping the long blade outward again.

This time Cheng Wujie dropped into a crouch to avoid it, then exploded upward as he rose, pushing off the ground with both feet.

Left fist again—driving straight at Ekema’s throat.

Ekema shifted to one side to evade, then gripped the blade with both hands and brought it down in a chopping arc toward Cheng Wujie’s left arm.

“I’ll cripple your left arm—what then?!”

Screaming as the blade fell like a bolt of lightning.

Cheng Wujie surged forward with full force—still no dodge.

His shoulder drove upward, crashing into Ekema’s arms, using the force of his shoulder to jar the blade off its path.

Ekema’s knee drove up, slamming into Cheng Wujie’s abdomen. Cheng Wujie let out a muffled grunt.

“You will never beat me!”

Ekema pulled the blade handle back and struck it hard against the back of Cheng Wujie’s skull.

Cheng Wujie pitched forward. The moment he hit the ground he rolled—Ekema’s long blade drove into the ground exactly where he’d been, gouging a white gash in the stone.

With a ringing clang, sparks flew from the flagstones.

Cheng Wujie came back to his feet. He shook his head once, and his left hand threw another fist toward Ekema’s throat.

Ekema’s fury was genuine now.

He dodged the left fist, then thrust the blade toward Cheng Wujie’s throat—a direct push, blade point leading. At this range and with this motion, it would take his head cleanly.

*Boom!*

In that instant, Cheng Wujie’s right fist crashed into Ekema’s temple.

The violence of that blow nearly took Ekema’s head from his shoulders.

The head didn’t go—but the man did.

Ekema went sideways through the air and hit the ground, eyes rolling back.

“Master Xuanyuan taught us—the real and the false are one and the same. What looks strong may not be. What looks weak may not be.”

Cheng Wujie stepped over and sat astride Ekema.

“This one is from Xiao Liu!”

*Boom!*

One fist—eye socket split open, eyeball burst.

“This one is from Xiao Jiu!”

*Boom!*

One fist—nasal bridge shattered, nose exploded.

“And these—are from both of them!”

Cheng Wujie laced his hands together, sitting astride Ekema, and drove them down onto Ekema’s face over and over like a tamping mallet—impact after impact after impact.

Ekema’s skull was driven down into the ground and bounced back up, driven down, bounced up…

The ground cracked.

*Pffh…*

The skull caved in. Blood and brain matter were driven outward with the impact.

Cheng Wujie rose, drawing in great heaving breaths.

“The King Ning said the matter of vengeance was not something he wanted to leave to me. He said you were once my brother—that when I took revenge, there would be no joy in my heart.”

Cheng Wujie charged forward once more, and drove his foot down on Ekema’s already-caved skull.

At that stomp, the skull fractured and scattered.

“I’m delighted!”

Cheng Wujie let out a roar that shook the sky.

—