The Ning army searched the city for a long time but found no trace of Pei Qi. What they did find were his women — the empresses and consorts of the Zhou dynasty.

These women wept as though their hearts were breaking, each convinced that their Emperor had died holding off the Ning forces on their behalf.

No matter how the soldiers scolded or reasoned with them, the crying wouldn’t stop. No one knew what to do with them.

There was no point trying to ask them anything. They just sobbed and sobbed and refused to answer, leaving even those battle-hardened Ning warriors completely at a loss.

Until…

Zhang Tang, dressed in black brocade robes, walked unhurriedly toward the weeping women. Heaven only knows what happened — he said nothing, did nothing. He simply walked up and stood before them, looking at them. And just like that, the crying stopped.

No one could explain it. The Ning soldiers, fresh from a brutal battle, carried far more menace than Zhang Tang. Every one of them had blood on their hands. Just the stench of gore should have been enough to frighten anyone — and yet those women had only grown more hysterical at the soldiers’ presence.

So people later said that Ning soldiers soaked in blood could make a person cry. But Zhang Tang, clean and composed, could make a person too afraid to cry at all.

He truly did nothing. He simply stood there in silence, and the sobbing cut off like a blade through silk.

It was, as anyone present would tell you, deeply unnatural.

Because when people cry, they stop in stages — from wailing, to sobbing, to silence. These women looked at Zhang Tang and simply stopped. One moment, nothing; the next, complete silence.

Li Chi and Gao Xining stood side by side watching this unfold, then turned to look at each other.

Gao Xining said tenderly to Li Chi, “If you ever cry because I’ve bullied you, may I send for Zhang Tang to comfort you?”

Li Chi said, “I wouldn’t mind. But you’d better ask Zhang Tang if he dares.”

Gao Xining burst out laughing.

Zhang Tang, who could frighten a room full of grown women into silence, was almost certainly trembling in Li Chi’s presence. The world really did work in mysterious ways — everything had its natural counter.

“My lord.”

A military physician stepped forward and bowed. “All the wounded among the Wolfhowl Camp soldiers have been treated. General Gao and General Fang are both seriously injured and have been settled somewhere to rest.”

Li Chi asked, “Is their life in danger?”

“There appears to be no mortal risk for now, but they will need a long period of quiet recovery.”

“I’ll go see them shortly,” Li Chi said.

“I’ll come with you,” Gao Xining said.

Xiahou Zhuo came over from across the courtyard and stopped before Li Chi. “We’ve searched Mei City from end to end. No sign of Pei Qi. We’re now having people identify the bodies.”

Li Chi gave a quiet sound of acknowledgment. “Pei Qi isn’t dead. He’s probably hiding somewhere, or there’s another secret passage out of the city that we haven’t found yet.”

Xiahou Zhuo glanced at the cluster of weeping women and sighed. “A man who throws his own wives to draw off pursuers and dreams of becoming Emperor. What a specimen.”

Pei Qi’s first wife raised her head sharply. “His Majesty died protecting us. He did not flee!”

Xiahou Zhuo looked at her with something like pity and said nothing.

Zhang Tang simply raised one finger to his lips in a quiet shh. The Empress immediately fell silent and lowered her head.

Li Chi and Gao Xining made their way to a side hall where Gao Zhen lay resting. He had already been bandaged, but there were so many wounds that he looked like a man wrapped in white cloth — arms, torso, even his face had been wrapped up, leaving only his eyes, nostrils, and mouth exposed. The effect was a little alarming.

When he saw Li Chi and Gao Xining enter, he tried to struggle upright and bow. Li Chi pressed him back down.

This battle — the swift fall of Mei City — owed an enormous debt to Gao Zhen and Fang Biehan, who had led the Wolfhowl Camp soldiers. Without those warriors fighting to the death to hold the breach in the city wall, the main Ning force could never have poured through so cleanly.

“Rest,” Li Chi said, sitting beside Gao Zhen. He looked him over carefully, then smiled. “You look like you’ll be fine. Once you’ve healed, tell me what you want — for yourself or for your Wolfhowl Camp. If I have it, it’s yours.”

Gao Zhen said, “My lord, many of my men fell. I want to ask for double the bereavement payment for the fallen.”

“I’ve already sent people to compile the lists,” Li Chi said. “The wounded and the dead — tenfold. And the living, too. Tenfold for everyone.”

Gao Zhen tried to sit up to express his thanks. Li Chi pushed him back down again.

“And what do you want for yourself?” Li Chi asked.

At that, Gao Zhen — though his expression was invisible beneath all that bandaging — showed something in his eyes: a bashful squirm.

Li Chi saw it and laughed. “A man among men, and there’s still something you can’t say out loud?”

Gao Zhen looked down. “I’ve been envious since I was a child of the other boys in my village who had elder sisters to look after them. I was an only child, so… I’m being presumptuous, but I’d like to ask the Chief Censor to take me as her sworn younger brother…”

Before he’d even finished, Gao Xining’s face turned stern. “No.”

Gao Zhen stilled. “Understood…”

“You’re asking a favor of me,” Gao Xining said, “and you negotiated it with him? You didn’t come to me directly. That shows a lack of sincerity. And without sincerity, no matter how much I might want a little brother, I won’t agree.”

Li Chi burst out laughing.

And in Gao Zhen’s eyes, a light kindled.

Gao Xining looked at Li Chi. “From now on, this is my sworn little brother. Naturally I’ll look after him more — for instance, when you can’t bring yourself to be hard on him, remember to call for me. I’ve always heard that elder sisters love bullying their little brothers, but I never had one. Now I do. This is going to be delightful…”

Li Chi looked at Gao Zhen and sighed. “You’re on your own, brother. May fortune smile upon you.”

Gao Zhen broke into a goofy, happy grin.

By evening, after a full day of searching, and after bringing in many of Pei Qi’s former captives to identify bodies, there was still no trace of where Pei Qi had gone.

And so the only conclusion was that there was indeed a secret passage out of the city.

The Censor’s Office began interrogating everyone from the palace, one by one, through the entire night. Nothing.

Zhang Tang personally questioned the women. They genuinely didn’t know anything — and Zhang Tang could see they weren’t lying.

So the focus shifted to the Inner Council staff.

The Censor’s agents had no reason to be gentle with those people. They were enemies, plain and simple, so they were considerably rougher in their methods. But by dawn, not a single one of the Inner Council had given up any reliable information.

Which only went to show how deeply suspicious Pei Qi truly was. He trusted no one.

“My lord, shall I try?” Guiyuan Shu looked to Li Chi.

“What do you have in mind?”

“When I served in the Chu Grand Court of Justice, I learned some things about the Chu Imperial Palace. While investigating Liu Chongxin, I reviewed a great many records and interrogated numerous agents of the Surveillance Bureau. They revealed the existence of a secret passage in the palace — one even Yang Jing didn’t know about. Liu Chongxin had it made for Yang Jing’s father.”

“If Yang Jing had known about such a passage, he would have used it during the palace coup. Which leads me to believe Liu Chongxin died before he could tell Yang Jing.”

Li Chi said, “So you’re guessing Pei Qi might have known?”

“Pei Qi almost certainly had spies within Liu Chongxin’s circle. These regional lords who aspired to the throne — they all looked to the Emperor for their model, especially his grandeur. So I believe…” Guiyuan Shu met Li Chi’s gaze. “I’m only going to try my luck. I’ll look in the palace rockery gardens. The secret passage in the capital Daxing’s palace was concealed in the rockery.”

Li Chi nodded. “Go look.”

A full day passed. As evening fell, Guiyuan Shu came to find Li Chi with a complicated expression.

Li Chi took one look at his face and guessed he’d found no tunnel.

“It’s fine,” Li Chi said with a slight smile. “We’ll keep looking.”

Guiyuan Shu sighed. “I didn’t find any passage out of the city. But I did find several storehouses…”

Li Chi’s eyes went wide.

“Are there…” he started.

Guiyuan Shu nodded. “There are. Quite a lot of them.”

Li Chi’s eyes began to shine. They had already gone wide in preparation; now the light poured out of them in beams.

That light, Guiyuan Shu later said, was nearly blinding.

Li Chi followed Guiyuan Shu at a near-run to inspect the discovery. Guiyuan Shu had investigated several of the rockery gardens and found three underground vaults hidden beneath them.

All money.

So much money that the light from Li Chi’s eyes didn’t just beam — it rattled, like rapid-fire coins: cha-cha-cha-cha-cha.

Li Chi ordered everything brought up and counted. It took several full days to tally.

When Li Chi finally learned just how much silver Pei Qi had squirreled away, he felt even more strongly that he needed to find Pei Qi as soon as possible.

He wanted to take that man’s hands in his own and say, from the bottom of his heart, thank you — on behalf of all the people of central China, thank you for your contribution to the nation’s future.

Over those few days in the city, Li Chi let his troops rest and move freely within the walls. But military discipline held firm: harming civilians was punishable by death.

Then one afternoon, a guard came to report that someone was asking to see the Prince of Ning.

Li Chi had him brought in. The man wore the uniform of a palace bodyguard — clearly one of Pei Qi’s personal retainers.

He gave up Pei Qi’s location.

“I ask only for the Prince of Ning’s pardon. Not reward — only my life…”

And so Li Chi learned what had happened.

After the man from the Sacred Blade Sect killed Pei Qi, they had intended simply to leave and divide up Pei Qi’s overseas assets among themselves. But greed, as it always does, had done its work. Halfway there, a faction secretly allied and turned on the others.

They began killing each other. The Sacred Blade Sect heir was their first target — but his martial arts were extraordinary. He cut down several of them and broke through to freedom. His whereabouts were now unknown.

What remained of the group no longer trusted anyone. Even those who had privately allied beforehand had begun watching each other with suspicion. No one dared sleep, for fear of being struck down in the night.

After several days of this, the bodyguard could bear the strain no longer. He slipped away and came back, hoping to exchange the location of Pei Qi’s body for the chance to live.

Perhaps none of them had imagined, when it all began, how it would end. That when they turned on each other, they would go that far. That they could be so ruthless and so black-hearted.

—