Mr. Li looked at the man before him. He had come here to kill people — yet at this moment, he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.

“What you said just now — about ‘all of us’?”

Mr. Li asked.

Qilu opened his eyes: “Which part?”

Mr. Li said: “You said if we all die by my hand, it would be a proper beginning and end.”

Qilu: “You really aren’t a very clever person. Entrusting this matter to someone like you — I’m suddenly quite worried.”

Mr. Li let out a sigh.

Sure enough…

The foolish would never be the majority.

Qilu said: “It couldn’t be simpler — if everyone wants to seek death, we all sit neatly in front of you and you cut us down one by one. Wouldn’t that do?”

Mr. Li said: “I’d like to try something.”

Qilu asked: “Try what?”

Mr. Li answered: “Saving you for last.”

Qilu studied Mr. Li, thought for a moment, then said: “You want to test me — whether I’ll stand by and do nothing while you deal with the others. I advise you not to try it. Humans are creatures ruled by emotion. I can seek you out alone to die, but if I’m standing among the others, I cannot stand on your side.”

Mr. Li: “Ah.”

Then he turned and walked away.

“*Ah?*”

Qilu shot to his feet and strode after Mr. Li: “What kind of attitude is that?”

Mr. Li: “Hmm.”

Qilu’s irritation flared immediately — it worked every time.

Catching up to Mr. Li, Qilu grabbed at his shoulder: “What exactly do you mean?”

Mr. Li sidestepped the grasp, looked into Qilu’s eyes, and said: “If you’re not the last one to die — will you be able to rest easy?”

Qilu froze.

Not long after, the road had two figures walking side by side — one speaking, the other listening, occasionally responding, but only to a point.

The two of them walked forward together, resembling something like friends who happened to meet by chance. No — more like two people who had encountered someone from their hometown in a place very far, very far from home, people who had never actually known each other before.

—

Yuzhou City.

Li Chi received a military report sent by Tang Pidi: eight hundred thousand Ning Army troops had entered Jingzhou from Suzhou and were sweeping through the outer strongholds of the Mandate of Heaven Army.

Tang Pidi asked Li Chi whether the main forces needed to complete their advance into Jingzhou before the coming spring — if so, he would accelerate; if not, he would consolidate his forces and hold their position.

Li Chi arranged for someone to send Tang Pidi a reply, telling him to hold his current position and wait for reinforcements.

Li Chi’s plan was to first stabilize Jingzhou, and then reassess once Yang Xuanji and Prince Wu had determined a victor.

By Li Chi’s estimation, Daxing could not hold out much longer — by the end of the second month or the beginning of the third, Prince Wu would be forced to seek an opportunity for a decisive battle with Yang Xuanji.

As for the poisonous scheme hatched by the Dachu Emperor Yang Jing — the abdication plot — Li Chi intended to stall.

He had already sent people everywhere to spread word that he had set out for Jingzhou’s Daxing City, heading to receive the abdication from His Imperial Majesty the Dachu Emperor.

With that, who knew how many people would be setting a trap for him south of Yuzhou.

After sending his reply to Tang Pidi, Li Chi began making preparations to head south.

Li Chi was very interested in the people Mr. Li had gone to investigate — but he knew Mr. Li was right. What he needed to do was the far greater task of saving the common people of the realm.

Li Chi had already issued orders: consolidate all forces in Yuzhou — veterans and new recruits alike — and once assembled, march for Jingzhou.

In the year Li Chi held off the Black Wu invasion from the south, Zhuang Wudi had been conducting large-scale conscription of new soldiers in Yuzhou — and now, counting from then, another year had passed since driving the Black Wu forces back.

Over those two years, Yuzhou had been training new soldiers; in Jingzhou, Xie Xiu had been doing the same.

Just as Li Chi was about to leave Plum Garden and go check on the preparations in the main camp, Zhuang Wudi happened to return from outside.

“How does it stand?”

Li Chi asked.

Zhuang Wudi said: “The scattered units from the various prefectures and counties — at most ten more days and they’ll all have arrived. Provisions and supplies are ready. As soon as the forces are assembled, we can march at any time.”

Li Chi gave a sound of acknowledgment, then asked: “Elder Brother, this time — do you want to stay in Yuzhou, or come south with me?”

Zhuang Wudi looked at Li Chi and said nothing. From his expression alone, Li Chi understood what he was thinking.

So he smiled: “Then pack up — we’ll go ahead first. Set out at dawn tomorrow, head to Jingzhou to get everything properly arranged. Let Xiahou and the others lead the main force behind us.”

Zhuang Wudi broke into a smile immediately. He wasn’t one for words, wasn’t good at expressing himself — and yet, perhaps without knowing it himself, his smile was the best expression of all.

“Then I’ll go pack right now.”

Zhuang Wudi grinned and ran off — the way he ran looked exactly like a child who’d just heard the bell signaling the end of school.

The next morning at first light, Li Chi, Gao Xining, and the others set out ahead with the Tingwei Army, heading for Jingzhou to make arrangements.

In truth, the people under Li Chi didn’t quite understand why he needed to go to Jingzhou at this time.

That territory was already firmly held by the Ning Army. With both Xie Xiu and Xie Huainan there, Jingzhou presented not the slightest concern worth worrying about.

Many among them had advised Li Chi that the right move at this moment was to position his forces in the northern part of Jingzhou — and when the decisive battle between the Mandate King Yang Xuanji and Prince Wu came, strike immediately and enter the conflict. That would be the superior strategy.

But this time, Li Chi seemed set on going his own way. He simply issued orders that all forces must reach Jingzhou by the time he required.

With that, only one force remained in Jingzhou — General Tang Pidi’s — and if fighting broke out, it would appear dangerously isolated and outnumbered.

So a great many people were anxious that the Ning Army’s main forces, positioned in Jingzhou, would be unable to come to the General’s aid in time.

Yet the Ning King would not be dissuaded this time — and so there was nothing anyone could do.

On the road south, Zhuang Wudi seemed to be carefully watching Li Chi’s expression, as though he had something to say but didn’t know how to begin.

“In certain critical moments, you have to trust yourself.”

Li Chi spoke first.

Zhuang Wudi was startled — he hadn’t said a single word, yet Li Chi had already guessed what he was about to say.

At the station Li Chi now occupied, advisors and scholars naturally gathered around him in no small number, all eager to contribute and make plans.

Li Chi handed Zhuang Wudi a water flask: “They all think not marching on Daxing City is a mistake. But I’m convinced I’m right. If I deferred to them at a moment like this, I’d gradually lose my ability to judge for myself.”

He looked at Zhuang Wudi and said: “If I follow them and it turns out to be right, their voices will grow louder from then on — loud enough to drown out mine — and I’ll start doubting myself too. If I follow them and it turns out to be wrong, they’ll merely offer me an apology, while the price of our mistake could be hundreds of thousands of soldiers dying.”

Zhuang Wudi: “I understand.”

Li Chi smiled: “I’m not saying they’re not capable. What I mean is… I still think I’m just a tiny bit better than them.”

Zhuang Wudi burst out laughing.

Li Chi leaned back against the carriage and took a drink from the flask.

“When I was young, my master taught me a line: *Policy must not be decided by one man alone; decisions must not be made by following others.* Master said those words were spoken by a great hero of history.”

Zhuang Wudi asked: “Who?”

Li Chi answered: “He couldn’t say. So I figure he made it up himself. He’d come up with such a profound saying, but felt his own standing wasn’t enough to give it weight — so he attributed it to some great hero of the era, to make it sound weightier. People often do this: they know they’re right, but because they’re alone and unknown, they still need to invoke a great banner and borrow a powerful name.”

He looked at Zhuang Wudi: “But if you’re always alone and unknown, no matter how great a banner you invoke, no matter whose name you borrow — no one will listen.”

Zhuang Wudi fell into thoughtful silence.

Li Chi said: “As for knowing whether your judgment or someone else’s judgment is more likely to be correct — you don’t need to count which side has more people. Just look at who prepared better. The preparation I put into this judgment exceeds everything all of them put together. That’s why I won’t listen to them.”

There were people to whom Li Chi would not offer such lengthy explanation.

But this was his Elder Brother Zhuang, after all.

“I suspect the problem will still emerge in Shuzhou.”

Li Chi continued: “Yang Xuanji raised his banner in Shuzhou. He’s the best puppet those people could have chosen — which makes Shuzhou very suspicious.”

Zhuang Wudi thought it through carefully for quite a while, and finally understood what Li Chi was getting at.

If Yang Xuanji was a puppet *they* had chosen, then it wasn’t because Yang Xuanji had built a strong foundation in Shuzhou, or because Yang Xuanji’s own power was great.

It was because *those people* had built a strong foundation in Shuzhou — because *their* power there was great.

If the problem lay in Shuzhou, then Li Chi’s insistence on keeping the Ning Army’s main forces in Jingzhou made perfect sense.

One month later — Jingzhou.

General Tang Pidi received Li Chi’s reply letter. After reading it, he passed it to Luo Jing: “The Lord judges that Yang Xuanji still has reinforcements coming, so he intends to fight a battle on the Jingzhou side.”

Luo Jing read it as he spoke: “Yang Xuanji already has so many troops — can Shuzhou still send more?”

Tang Pidi paced the room as he turned Li Chi’s reasoning over in his mind. He needed to work through what Li Chi was suggesting, since a letter could only convey so much.

After roughly a quarter of an hour, Tang Pidi suddenly said: “Not necessarily reinforcements.”

Luo Jing froze: “What do you mean?”

Tang Pidi said: “Let’s wait and see. I can’t explain it clearly right now either, but I believe the Lord is right.”

Luo Jing nodded: “Then we hold our position here?”

Tang Pidi said: “Send people to scout toward Yangzhou — send plenty of them. I keep feeling like something’s about to go wrong over on that side.”

Luo Jing responded, rising to head outside: “You mean something’s about to go wrong with Li Xionghu’s side?”

Tang Pidi said: “If the Lord’s suspicions about Shuzhou are correct, then something must inevitably go wrong with Li Xionghu in Yangzhou too — Li Xionghu’s time to be eliminated has come… and if that’s truly the case, then some of what has been hidden will become genuinely frightening.”

Luo Jing turned back to look at Tang Pidi: “What else is hidden?”

Tang Pidi shook his head: “Can’t see it clearly yet.”

—

Yangzhou. Hangcheng. Night Garden.

The beauty of Hangcheng was unrivaled under heaven — many had heard this said, but only those who had come and seen it with their own eyes could truly understand. That beauty was not something words could describe.

Li Xionghu lived in the Night Garden, once the residence of a Dachu imperial prince — who had since disappeared to parts unknown.

For some time now, the prominent families and gentry elders of Hangcheng had been hosting banquets for Li Xionghu in succession, each group taking its turn.

Yet Li Xionghu was not happy. He had gone from being one of the most powerful contenders for the realm to someone who spent his days drinking and chatting idly with a group of local gentry — in and of itself, that was a deeply sorrowful thing.

He was not content.

His purpose in drinking with these respectable men was to have them help him think of a plan.

And just yesterday, they had finally come up with an idea that wasn’t too bad.

Today they had agreed to gather again at Night Garden to discuss it further and work out the details.

If it worked, he would still have a chance to contend with those cursed rivals of his.

“Overlord.”

A subordinate bowed at the door: “They’ve all arrived.”

Li Xionghu rose: “Prepare food and drink — set out plenty of liquor.”

The subordinate acknowledged the order, and as he turned to leave, a flash of cold ruthlessness passed through his eyes.

—