Little Zhang Zhenren stood there staring at the clearing sky, telling himself over and over: *Do not read into this. It is a coincidence. All of it, coincidence.*

Watching him standing there in a daze, Yu Jiuling and Peng Shiqi exchanged a glance. They didn’t know what had happened, but they could feel it — something had set Little Zhang Zhenren’s understanding of the world slightly sideways.

What they couldn’t have guessed was that what he was questioning wasn’t his own existence — it was Li Chi’s.

When Yu Jiuling and Peng Shiqi came over, Little Zhang Zhenren looked at them with a very complicated expression. “If — and I’m saying *if* — the Ning King could control thunder and the turning of weather, would you find that… extreme?”

Yu Jiuling walked up and placed a hand on Little Zhang Zhenren’s head.

“I don’t have a fever.”

“Snake bite then.”

Little Zhang Zhenren sighed. “You don’t understand.”

Peng Shiqi asked, “You mean — the lightning that struck Xiushan just now, and the rain that just fell — you think the Ning King arranged those?”

“I don’t know if the Ning King arranged them,” Little Zhang Zhenren said. “If it wasn’t him, then it was Heaven cooperating with him.”

He looked at Yu Jiuling. “Do you believe it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because if our lord could command Heaven,” Yu Jiuling said, “then why couldn’t he command the three of them? They’ve put him through enough. He’s had to beg permission to get married into his own household… if he could really command Heaven, he’d have called down divine lightning on those three long ago.”

He added, as an afterthought: “And he hasn’t called down lightning on *my* mouth either. So no, I don’t believe it.”

Little Zhang Zhenren was quiet for a moment. “When you put it that way — neither do I.”

“Don’t go getting lost in superstition,” Yu Jiuling said. “These are tricks for fooling other people. Let’s not fool ourselves.”

Little Zhang Zhenren thought about it. Even if it was fake — it was a very convincing fake.

—

The air after the rain was noticeably fresher. The Ning army was in no rush to attack, so Yu Jiuling and the others had nothing pressing to do.

The three of them wandered away from camp and climbed to a high point to observe Xiushan.

But even with the spyglass, the distance was too great to make out expressions on the faces of the Shu Province soldiers.

“Do you think they believe it?” Peng Shiqi asked.

Little Zhang Zhenren shook his head. “They won’t believe it entirely. But they won’t entirely disbelieve it either. If we can produce one more striking event, they’ll have no choice but to believe.”

Peng Shiqi sighed. “Producing one more striking event is harder said than done. Our bag of tricks only has so many.”

He paused. “Tricks on that scale, I mean.”

Deception was a curious thing. The fewer the targets, the easier the task. A man who could fool a handful of people was a street-corner fraud. A man who could fool dozens was a schoolmaster. A man who could fool hundreds or thousands was a local magistrate. A man who could fool all under Heaven could only be an emperor.

And so: a Jianghu charlatan’s techniques simply could not deceive tens of thousands of soldiers at once.

Little Zhang Zhenren’s performance today, had it not been preceded by his established identity as a Longhu Mountain Daoist, would have carried less conviction. And had the Ning King not been standing there lending the whole thing his authority — less again.

—

Meanwhile, on Xiushan.

Yao Zhiyuan was walking inspection rounds, raising his voice as he went.

“What you saw was nothing but an optical illusion. They don’t have the courage to attack us, so they resort to cheap tricks. Look at them.”

He swept his gaze over the soldiers. “Catching snakes is not difficult. Anyone here who hasn’t caught a snake? With enough preparation, I could produce that many snakes for you myself.”

The soldiers listened. No one spoke up to challenge him — but in their hearts, thoughts multiplied.

Some thought: *the General says catching snakes is easy. But the sudden burst of wind and flying sand — where did that come from?*

They hadn’t seen Yu Jiuling and the others face-down in the dirt under the platform, blinking grit out of their eyes.

Others thought: *even if the snakes and the windstorm were faked — what about the lightning?*

Instinctively, they looked toward a tree not far away. That solitary tree, blasted by lightning, stood scorched black.

Yao Zhiyuan kept talking, kept urging his soldiers to stay sharp, to resist the enemy’s ploy.

But did Yao Zhiyuan himself feel no shock whatsoever?

He returned to his vantage point and sat. His gaze drifted to that still-smoking tree.

The lightning had struck Xiushan. No other mountain, no other tree — this one. If it was coincidence, why not strike something else?

He could tell his soldiers it was all a trick. He could not tell himself the lightning was fake.

—

Two days passed. The Ning army still showed no sign of attacking. Even the trebuchet bombardment ceased.

Two days earlier — just after Little Zhang Zhenren’s performance — the Ning army had called out their terms: three days to consider. If the garrison had not surrendered by the end of three days, a far greater divine punishment would follow.

“Commander.”

One of Yao Zhiyuan’s subordinate generals found him and lowered his voice. “The past two nights, soldiers have been sneaking off the mountain. I’ve dispatched patrols, but we haven’t been able to stop them all.”

Yao Zhiyuan already knew. He had dispatched patrols himself — and even some of the patrol members had slipped away.

In truth, it was hard to blame the soldiers. Stories of gods and spirits had been part of their lives since childhood. This kind of thing had a power over them that reason alone couldn’t counter.

“Say nothing of it,” Yao Zhiyuan said. “If anyone asks, tell them I sent a portion of the men down the mountain to scout enemy positions.”

The general acknowledged the order.

He turned to leave — then hesitated. After a moment, he turned back. “Commander — about the other matter…”

Yao Zhiyuan’s expression hardened. “I’ve already said — it was all a trick. How is it that even you have started believing a Jianghu fraud?”

“I would never dare—”

The man said nothing more and left.

At that same moment, the Ning army’s call for surrender echoed up from below. Yao Zhiyuan strode quickly toward the soldiers on the front line.

“Don’t listen to their lies!”

He shouted, but his voice couldn’t match the unified roar of the Ning soldiers below.

Yao Zhiyuan heard it clearly enough himself: in essence — two days have passed. Any who surrender now will be pardoned without exception, given travel money, and sent home with courtesy. But after today, surrender will be useless. All remaining will be executed.

As if on cue, the sky began to darken again.

In Shu Province, this was ordinary. Mountains gathered clouds, and a brief shower was nothing remarkable.

Yet after what had already happened, ordinary weather no longer felt so ordinary to anyone.

Yao Zhiyuan, worried his soldiers would break under the pressure and surrender en masse, deployed additional patrols.

But that night, the trickle of men fleeing down the mountain turned into a flood. Even mid-ranking and lower-ranking officers were slipping away — unwilling to stay in this cursed place any longer if they could help it. Most of them weren’t running to surrender to the Ning army. They were running home.

The next morning, Yao Zhiyuan had the men counted. More than a thousand had disappeared overnight.

The garrison on Xiushan had only numbered just over ten thousand. On the surface, losing one in ten didn’t look catastrophic.

But Yao Zhiyuan’s real worry was the men who’d stayed. None of them had any will left to fight to the death.

Today was the last day of the Ning army’s surrender deadline. Yao Zhiyuan suspected tonight’s desertion would be worse still.

“Commander — look!”

Someone pointed toward the Ning army’s camp.

Yao Zhiyuan raised his spyglass — and the blood drained from his face.

He lowered the glass, rubbed his eyes, and looked again.

In the Ning army’s camp — clearly visible — large shapes that could only be tigers and leopards moving to and fro. At least dozens of them. And in the midst of the Ning camp, these wild beasts were not attacking a single soldier.

Yao Zhiyuan had watched the Ning camp closely for days. He had never once seen these creatures before.

Even the soldiers without spyglasses could make out shadowy shapes from their high vantage point.

Still trying to make sense of what he was seeing, Yao Zhiyuan watched a cavalry unit return to the camp from the rear. By its banner, that was the Ning King Li Chi himself.

He watched Li Chi swing down from his horse and walk toward those tigers and leopards — and watched those tigers and leopards prostrate themselves before him.

It looked for all the world as though they were bowing in submission to the Ning King.

This sight shook the men on the mountain deeply.

Days ago, the Longhu Mountain Daoist had said on the platform below: the Ning King could command all living things. At the time, Yao Zhiyuan had dismissed it — catching snakes was one thing.

But now — so many tigers and leopards *bowing* before the Ning King — how could he still not believe?

—

Inside the Ning army camp.

Li Chi said, “That’s enough of a showing. Get everyone back behind the tents — they’ll have seen it by now.”

The tigers and leopards leaped away and vanished behind the camp shelters.

Of course they were not real tigers and leopards. They were Wolf Ape Battalion soldiers in disguise.

Days earlier, Little Zhang Zhenren had thought long and hard and come up with this plan. Using burlap sacks, cloth, and dye, they constructed fake tiger and leopard skins. They had carefully measured the distance with the spyglass — calculated exactly how far away they needed to be to avoid detection. Too close, and the illusion would shatter. At sufficient distance, and with Wolf Ape Battalion soldiers — who were already remarkable mimics of animal movement — the effect was convincing enough.

Li Chi hadn’t dared let them stay out too long. Keep it going too long, and they’d be found out.

Little Zhang Zhenren released a long breath. “Now it’s my turn.”

Li Chi nodded. “Go. It’s up to you now.”

Little Zhang Zhenren acknowledged this, then turned and walked toward Xiushan. Straight toward it. With no apparent concern that the garrison might loose arrows at him.

He didn’t need to worry overmuch, really. On Li Chi’s orders, he wore soft armor beneath his robes — two layers, covering even his legs and arms. And his face was shielded by an iron mask, leaving only his eyes. At this distance, ordinary arrows couldn’t penetrate.

The black robes and the strange iron mask gave him an aura of eerie menace.

He walked until he was about thirty paces from the Shu Province soldiers’ first defensive line, then stopped and drew a deep, steadying breath.

“I am a Daoist of Longhu Mountain.”

Little Zhang Zhenren called out in a loud, clear voice. “I come by command of the Human Sovereign. I will say this only once — listen well.”

“If you have neither surrendered nor withdrawn by tomorrow’s dawn, the Ning King will send tigers and leopards to take this mountain. When that day comes, wild beasts will range across every slope of Xiushan.”

“If you doubt me, wait and see for yourselves. If you believe you are proof against tigers and leopards — then put it to the test.”

“The Ning King follows Heaven’s mandate. To stand against him here is to stand against Heaven.”

Little Zhang Zhenren paused and let his gaze sweep slowly across the row of faces peering from the trenches.

“The Ning King is merciful,” he said at last. “If you will not surrender, then disperse and go home. When the Ning King enters Shu Province, any person who carries no weapon will be free of all blame.”

“Think on it — each of you.”

With that, Little Zhang Zhenren turned and walked down the mountain.

Yao Zhiyuan erupted in fury and ordered his men to shoot.

Little Zhang Zhenren walked with unhurried steps. Arrows flew behind him — he could see some strike him — yet he seemed utterly unbothered.

Once he was back in the Ning camp, he walked along still muttering, “That was absolutely terrifying…”

Inside the shelter, he stripped off the Daoist robe. Underneath, soft armor in two layers — so thorough in its coverage that a man standing at point-blank range with a bow couldn’t shoot through it.

But knowing that didn’t stop the fear.

Of course he had been afraid. How could he not be?

Little Zhang Zhenren shuddered at the memory, and looked at Li Chi. “I need a pay raise for work like this.”

—