“Teacher, how are you?”

Li Chi walked in to find Teacher Li lying on the wooden bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. His arm was wrapped in bandages, hung in a sling around his neck. Yesterday he had refused to let the physicians attend to him — he had dressed the wound himself.

Perhaps in Teacher Li’s heart, there was always some invisible distance between him and this world. If one were to speak plainly, he and the one who had died were more alike — truly of the same road.

So he grieved.

But a man like Teacher Li would not allow even his grief to be seen by others.

When Li Chi walked in, Teacher Li smiled slightly and shook his head. “I’m all right. Just a broken arm. Rest for a while and it will heal.”

Li Chi gave a quiet sound of acknowledgment, set the medicines he had brought on the table. “These are from Miss Shen. She said she did not dare to presume to come and disturb you, so she asked me to bring them.”

Teacher Li smiled. “Good.”

He knew of Shen Rujian — though if he were to count how many generations removed she was as a disciple, he would have no idea. The female disciples from Yunyin Mountain — many of them were now in the Shen Medical Hall. They had saved countless lives, and in a certain sense, this too could be counted as Teacher Li’s merit.

If only, truly, a person could accumulate virtue through acts of goodness.

Perhaps sensing that Li Chi did not know how to offer comfort, Teacher Li smiled and said: “A man like me is far more unburdened than you imagine.”

Li Chi understood that. But he understood equally well that being unburdened did not mean being without feeling. Those who appeared most unburdened were often the most sensitive of heart.

Because Li Chi himself was someone others saw as unburdened.

“Do you know anyone truly remarkable?”

Teacher Li deliberately changed the subject.

But the moment the words left his mouth, he realized the subject had not changed at all — it had only drawn them further into the same matter.

Li Chi nodded. “I know one. He’s not in the camp at the moment, but I’ve already sent someone to invite him.”

He was speaking of Fang Zhihou — someone who appeared equally unburdened, but carried a heart full of sorrow.

Strange, somehow — the higher a person stood, the heavier the grief within their heart.

There was perhaps no one in this world who stood at the absolute summit and still felt absolute joy. If such a person existed, they were truly fortunate — enviable beyond measure.

“Very strong?”

Teacher Li asked.

Li Chi answered: “Can’t see through him.”

Can’t see through — which naturally meant very strong, because Li Chi himself had already reached a height from which he could perceive the capabilities of nearly anyone.

The number of people in this world who could stand higher than Li Chi — speaking honestly — could be counted on one hand.

“Good.”

Teacher Li said, and then closed his eyes. Li Chi sat beside him. For a moment, neither of them could think of anything to say.

A long silence passed. Teacher Li, eyes still closed, said: “Could you… give him a proper burial?”

Li Chi nodded. “I’ve already made arrangements.”

Teacher Li smiled faintly, but did not open his eyes. “Thank you.”

Li Chi gave a quiet sound of acknowledgment. Then the two of them fell into silence once more.

After a long, long time, Teacher Li said: “If you become Emperor one day — please do everything in your power to uphold fairness. Some people go wrong not because they were fundamentally bad, but because circumstances may have created an imbalance within them.”

Li Chi understood what Teacher Li meant. A man of his own origins could understand better than most the quiet helplessness in those words.

“I will do my utmost.”

He answered quickly, even if the words were few.

Teacher Li smiled. “I like the word ‘Ning’… Peaceful. Enduring. If every person’s life could be accompanied by that one word, what a complete and beautiful thing that would be.”

Li Chi nodded. “I like it too.”

Then silence again.

After some time, Li Chi rose. “Teacher, please rest well. I’ll head back to the camp — there are still military matters to attend to. The Yongzhou Army looks as though they’re preparing to cross the river.”

Teacher Li nodded. “Go. Don’t worry about me here. You’ve experienced more than most — and so you know that many times, a person doesn’t need company. They only need to lie quietly for a while.”

Li Chi bowed. “Your disciple takes his leave.”

He stepped out of the room and couldn’t help releasing a long, heavy breath. He was a man who had lived through so much. But just now, when he had tried to feel — even briefly — the sorrow from Teacher Li’s perspective, he had lasted only a moment before it felt as though he could not breathe.

Why did Teacher Li always wander?

Because if he stayed in one place too long, he would begin to miss things.

Only by moving constantly, by always seeking out new sights in this world, could he keep his heart from hurting so much.

One could debate whether this was self-deception — whether it amounted to blocking out the sound of bells by covering one’s ears. But what else could Teacher Li do?

—

When Li Chi returned to the main camp, he saw the Tingwei Corps on one side — the four Qianban officers were running coordination drills again, practicing that devastating combined attack.

When they had struck Qi Lu, the four of them had launched an iron spear using that enormous bow — and that strike, Li Chi knew clearly, was something no one in this world should have been able to take head-on.

Li Chi thought for a moment, then turned and walked toward the supply depot.

Entering the camp, he found the junior disciple from the Hanging Blade Sect, Zhen Gen, leading men in tallying provisions and supplies. Seeing Li Chi, Zhen Gen hurried over to greet him.

The senior disciples from the Hanging Blade Sect were all now assigned to logistical work in the rear. Senior Brother Jia Ruan had stayed to govern Youzhou and was now the highest authority there.

Li Chi had promised Jia Ruan he would not let his junior disciples take excessive risks, so they had all been stationed at the rear. Only Zhen Gen had insisted on following the army.

“My lord.”

Zhen Gen ran over, smiling. “What does my lord need?”

Li Chi smiled. “I’ve had an idea for something. I want to have the blacksmiths make it and test it.”

Zhen Gen promptly led Li Chi into the supply depot and summoned the craftsmen responsible for forging and repairing weapons.

Following Li Chi’s concept, they heated an iron spear until it glowed red, then drew out the tip to make it longer and more sharply tapered.

Then they heated it to red again and twisted the front section of the spear into a spiral — not a particularly difficult task. It was finished quickly.

Li Chi saw there was an open clearing nearby in the supply depot, with a few trees that suited perfectly. Rather than heading back, he had someone go and invite Gao Xining and the four Qianban officers, and to bring the great bow.

Actually, the moment Li Chi had ordered the spiral spear to be forged, Zhen Gen had already understood what Li Chi was thinking — because that great bow had been commissioned by Gao Xining from him in the first place.

Shortly, Gao Xining arrived with the others.

Li Chi smiled. “I want to see just how far their combined attack with this bow can be pushed — what its maximum force is.”

He pointed toward a large tree in the distance, a tree that would take two arms stretched wide to encircle. “Try the iron spear on it first.”

Fang Xidao and Shang Qingzhu and the other two exchanged a glance, then took their positions. The four of them released in unison.

The iron spear screamed through the air and struck the tree with a thunderous impact — the force was so immense the tree was pierced clean through. But the spear shaft did not make it all the way through — it lodged in the trunk.

Even so, the force was terrifyingly evident. How much resistance would a tree that thick present?

Li Chi pointed at the newly forged spiral spear. “Try this.”

Fang Xidao and the other three tried once more with the spiral spear. This time the spear not only pierced through the tree — it flew onward for a short distance beyond, though its speed had greatly diminished by then. Still, it was a clear improvement over the iron spear.

“Zhen Gen.”

Li Chi smiled. “You’re sharp-minded. Think about how to push the force even further.”

Zhen Gen gave a quick acknowledgment. “I’ll work on it.”

They went off to study how to improve the four-person combined strike further. Li Chi and Gao Xining walked side by side toward the front of the main camp.

Gao Xining asked: “How is Teacher Li?”

Li Chi shook his head. “Not well.”

Gao Xining exhaled slowly. “Of course he’s not well… This is no different from having to strike down someone from your own homeland. No — it must be even harder than that.”

Both of them could understand Teacher Li’s sorrow, yet neither had any way to offer comfort or help dissolve it.

Many things, no one else could help with. A person had to process them slowly on their own. In the world of adults, some things truly could only be handled alone.

All empathy, in the end, only went so far.

—

At the same time, in the Yongzhou Army’s main encampment.

The Holy Teacher stood in silence before a new grave.

Qi Lu had not returned as arranged. He had judged that Qi Lu must be dead. Not long after, word came: on the opposite bank, people had seen a chase — many men pursuing one man, and that man had been severed of all four limbs before dying. Utterly brutal.

At this moment, the Holy Teacher appeared perfectly calm. Yet even his breathing carried the edge of a bone-deep chill.

Even Han Feibao did not dare to approach. He stayed far away, watching.

After a long silence, the Holy Teacher turned and walked back. “Fill in the grave.”

Han Feibao and the others were startled. They did not understand what he meant.

“An empty grave is meaningless. He would not have wanted this. And besides me, there is no one else who would come to mourn him…”

The Holy Teacher said this and walked away.

Han Feibao and the others did not dare disobey. They quickly broke down the grave mound — which left the spot looking even more desolate.

—

Five or six days later.

About two hundred li from there, along the bank of the He River, in a small town called Yanlai, Fang Zhihou stepped into a teahouse.

The place was full of people. Even though the times were troubled, the people of this little mountain town seemed largely untouched. Their days rolled on at an easy, unhurried pace.

This was the southwest of Jingzhou, not far from Shuzhou in terms of distance, and the people here had a lifestyle similar to those from Shuzhou — fond of tea, slow in their rhythms. Some would sit in a teahouse for half a day without a second thought.

Fang Zhihou had by now already received the letter Gao Xining had dispatched months ago, requesting that he return to the Ning Army encampment to protect Li Chi. She had sent someone with this letter at the very moment Teacher Li set out to investigate those individuals — because from that point on, she had to think more seriously about Li Chi’s safety.

After receiving the letter, Fang Zhihou set out immediately, traveling south alone. He was accustomed to going alone — it did not bother him in the least.

After traveling so long, his legs were weary, and he intended to step inside for a brief rest.

The young attendant welcomed him in with great enthusiasm. The teahouse was almost entirely full — only a single seat remained in the farthest corner inside.

Fang Zhihou followed the attendant’s lead and settled into that spot, then looked around. He found it mildly interesting.

The old storyteller at the center of the room was mid-tale — a mythological story, and it had just reached the part where the leaders of two great divine clans led their followers into a decisive battle.

The storyteller was exceptionally skilled. At the most intense passages, everyone in the room tensed along with the tale.

The young attendant came by with a tray — on it, a pot of tea and three varieties of dried fruits, the standard offering of this particular teahouse.

He had barely set everything down when a group of people came through the door from outside. They wore long, flowing robes, and there was something mysterious about their bearing.

The attendant moved quickly to welcome them — but before he could say a word, every one of them had already fixed their gaze entirely on Fang Zhihou.