The Sang girl clutched Li Ren’s clothes. Even knowing now that he was a Central Plains man, those small hands did not loosen their grip.

And those frightened, timid eyes of hers were pitiable — but that flat, bare crown of hers made it impossible not to want to laugh.

Then again, thinking that she’d only ended up bald because of something he’d done, Li Ren didn’t have the heart to shake her hands off.

“I’m putting you in their care for protection — protection, do you understand?”

Li Ren asked.

The girls all stared blankly at him, clearly not understanding a word of what he’d said.

Li Ren figured gestures were the only way. But what gesture meant protection?

He thought about it, then opened his arms wide in a sort of embracing motion — in his mind, that was protection.

He then watched as the — well, formerly-coiffed — girl hesitated a moment, then shyly opened her arms and hugged him around the waist.

Li Ren froze.

Fortunately, among the Qing Province Ning Army soldiers there were men who could speak the Sang tongue, who came over and explained everything to the girls.

Only then did they follow the other soldiers to somewhere safe, while the girl who had been embracing Li Ren let go with a reddened face.

She stepped back two paces and bowed deeply, then said something in her tongue — still the birdsong that Li Ren found so grating, yet somehow, coming from the soft lips of a gentle young girl, it didn’t seem quite so unbearable.

Li Ren understood the meaning: thank you, one way or another.

So Li Ren gave a casual wave, said don’t mention it, and turned to leave.

What he didn’t know was that the girl, beyond thank you, had also said: please take good care of yourself.

If he had understood, he might have had a thought — being the iron-willed man he was, he might have wondered: if I took good care of myself, wouldn’t that mean I’d go on killing more of your Sang countrymen?

Men of iron-forged resolve tend to have thoughts of iron.

Li Ren turned to leave. Walked a few steps. And then, for no reason he could name, turned and looked back at the girl one more time.

The girl’s heart leapt at the glance — while what Li Ren was actually looking at was that bald patch on the top of her head.

The Ning soldiers lying in ambush on the far side of the island were still waiting. The Military Governor’s orders were clear: wait until the bulk of the Sang forces had come ashore before seizing the Sang warships.

At this point, perhaps half of the remaining Sang troops were still on the ships, gradually moving toward landfall.

Li Ren was about to leave when the soldier behind him called out: “Tie a strip of red cloth to your armor — so we can tell you apart when we charge in.”

Li Ren acknowledged. When he got back to the Yunlai Island side, he picked up a strip of blood-soaked cloth from the ground and tied it around his arm.

But when the Sang men saw him do this, they all began to imitate him.

Perhaps it was the impression his armor gave — that he was a commander — and so whatever the commander did, they followed. Or perhaps they simply thought that tying a bloodied cloth to their arm looked very cool.

Li Ren noticed this and felt a jolt of alarm inside — then cursed under his breath.

He went along with the Sang formation, moving forward. Men babbled at him constantly in their tongue; he ignored them all without exception, which, paradoxically, was the least suspicious thing he could do.

The Sang pirates who spoke to him, seeing he wouldn’t respond, assumed he was displeased, and instinctively gave him a wider berth.

Among the Sang, the hierarchy of dominance was brutal. A subordinate who encountered a superior was expected to show near-panic deference — at least in outward display.

And so it was that Li Ren — wearing the armor of a Sang pirate captain, topped with an outlandishly shaped helmet with the face guard pulled down — walked openly into the Sang center formation.

At this moment, Hattori Shinno was on high ground directing operations. The naval crossbows brought back earlier had been set up and were now returning fire toward the Yong Province troops — limited in number but not without some effect.

Li Ren looked around. No one was watching him, so he edged closer to Hattori Shinno.

Hattori Shinno had just ordered a flanking attack from both sides when he turned around and found another pirate chief, Inoue Takeru, approaching.

“You’re late!” Hattori Shinno barked.

Inoue Takeru commanded a fair number of pirates himself, though fewer than Hattori Shinno’s. Hattori Shinno’s contempt for Inoue Takeru stemmed from the man’s poor sense of proportion.

The man was obsessively lecherous. Previously, Hattori Shinno had received payment from one warlord to abduct another warlord’s daughter as a threat. Inoue Takeru had been eyeing those girls with intent all along, but Hattori Shinno understood clearly: if Inoue Takeru actually touched those girls, there could be serious trouble afterward. That rival warlord’s power was comparable to his own.

Li Ren couldn’t understand a word of this, but the tone was plainly hostile. So he responded with an exaggerated show of nodding and bowing.

Hattori Shinno noticed this Inoue Takeru was behaving oddly — yet it never crossed his mind that this could be a Central Plains man in disguise.

He pointed toward the flank: “Take your men and attack the left side. The terrain there is elevated — you can charge downhill.”

Li Ren still didn’t understand, but that was no obstacle to nodding.

He pretended to turn away to go — but as he turned, Hattori Shinno’s hand suddenly came down on his shoulder.

At that instant, Li Ren’s hand was already on his sword hilt, intending to spin and cut in the same motion — but with the hand on his shoulder, the moment had slipped away.

Hattori Shinno said: “What is wrong with you? You’re acting very strange.”

Li Ren turned his head to look at Hattori Shinno, then said the one Sang phrase he had heard more than any other on this entire journey:

“Baka.”

Hattori Shinno paused.

In that pause, Li Ren drew his blade.

The saber carried a streak of white light. In a single motion it took off Hattori Shinno’s arm at the shoulder.

Hattori Shinno cried out in shock. His bodyguards reacted, pulling him back, while several others drew their weapons.

Li Ren had already committed — there was no more holding back. One sweep of the saber took off two heads.

A Sang blade came stabbing at his throat head-on. Li Ren threw himself backward, one hand planting on the ground, and kicked out hard with both feet.

Both feet connected squarely with Hattori Shinno’s jaw. The explosive force launched Hattori Shinno clean off his feet.

Li Ren rolled back upright and drove his saber into Hattori Shinno’s chest, then sent a kick flying into the hilt — driving the blade in to the hilt — and Hattori Shinno’s body was sent flying backward.

The Sang pirates erupted into chaos.

Hattori Shinno’s men, seeing their chieftain killed, immediately swarmed at Li Ren.

And Inoue Takeru’s men — not knowing exactly what had happened — couldn’t let someone else kill their own chieftain unpunished either.

The scene instantly descended into chaos. Two groups slashed at each other, blood and severed limbs flying.

Several Sang pirates grabbed Li Ren and pulled him back, speaking urgently as they went. Li Ren still couldn’t understand a word — but from their faces, he read what could only be described as utter loyalty.

The pirates had suddenly fallen to fighting among themselves. Even Master Wu, concealed nearby, was briefly thrown off. But Master Wu’s mind was sharp — in a flash he worked out that the Sang man who had struck first was not what he appeared.

He immediately ordered the signal.

A burst of flame-like fire exploded in the sky, and the Ning soldiers in ambush on all sides charged out at once.

Simultaneously, the Ning forces on the far side of the small island launched their assault on the Sang pirate warships.

Li Ren fought his way left and right through the churning mass, and somehow broke free from the Sang rear.

The men who had been escorting him out were still saying something, clearly urgent.

The more Li Ren watched them, the more he thought: these men would make magnificent subordinates. The kind you could trust with your life.

So he drew his short blade and, in three quick movements, killed all of them too.

With the field now in full chaos, Li Ren found a sheltered spot and stripped off the conspicuous pirate armor — especially the outlandish helmet.

But he didn’t throw the helmet away. It felt heavy in the right places — probably bronze — and ought to be worth something. Even more valuable were the gemstones set into it.

He tied the helmet to his back, picked up two sabers, and began cutting his way back through the fighting.

He killed every enemy he passed. From the rear hill to the front hill, he fought his way through — and the moment he crossed over, the Ning reinforcements were already coming up.

Li Ren shouted several times that he was a friendly, and when the Ning soldiers saw him without armor, one offered to take off his own leather armor and give it to him.

Li Ren shook his head. He crouched down, stripped the leather armor from a fallen comrade’s body, and said quietly: I’m sorry.

He put the armor on and plunged back into the fighting — this time singling out anyone with red cloth tied to their arm.

From midday to nightfall, with their chieftain dead, the Sang pirate force fell into complete disorder. Pushing forward, they ran into the Yong Province troops; pulling back, they ran into the Ning Army.

What had begun as a fight between the Ning Army and the Yong Province forces left over ten thousand Sang dead on the field.

After Master Wu had his men sweep the battlefield, he ordered a temporary rest. The situation at the rear hill was unclear, and he wouldn’t attack in darkness.

Li Ren collapsed with exhaustion in a spot he found, and sat down to rest.

A Ning Army unit passed by with torches, and when they spotted Li Ren sitting there turning the helmet over in his hands, someone laughed: “Hero — so it was you who killed the pirate chieftain.”

Li Ren smiled — face covered in blood, but his teeth so brilliantly white.

Another Ning soldier grinned: “Well done, brother. The biggest one in today’s fight — and you’re the one who put him down.”

Master Wu happened to be passing by just then and caught these words. He laughed and sat down beside Li Ren: “Bold move. Killed the biggest one and came back in one piece. Remarkable.”

Li Ren smiled: “That one’s nothing much. I’ve also taken the head of Pei Qi, the Military Governor of Shu Province.”

Master Wu stared: “What?”

Li Ren said: “I never mentioned it to you, sir. Pei Qi — I killed him. In the mountains behind Mei City.”

Master Wu had never in a thousand guesses imagined that the man before him had killed Pei Qi.

Sometime past midnight, Master Wu gave a firm order that Li Ren and the remaining Dao Bing soldiers withdraw to the fleet to rest.

Li Ren went to the shore. He was still far off when he spotted, in the glow of a fire, several women standing, looking this way and that as though searching for something.

Li Ren thought: surely they can’t be looking for me? So he instinctively raised a hand and waved.

None of the women responded. Only then did he remember — he’d changed his clothes.

So Li Ren walked over to the girls, held up the helmet by way of identification.

But the girls — including the one with the shaved patch — had no apparent memory of the helmet, or perhaps they had already decided in their minds that this man wasn’t the one who had saved them. After all, Li Ren had been wearing his face guard at the time — including when he’d killed the Sang pirate captain.

So Li Ren thought for a moment, then pointed at his own face.

The girls looked at him blankly.

Li Ren was at a loss. He had no choice but to start pulling off his leather armor. As he worked off the upper half and bared his torso — those sharply defined six abdominals fully visible — the girls suddenly let out a shriek.

The one with the shaved patch was particularly excited. She grabbed his arm and shook it frantically, talking rapidly in her tongue.

He couldn’t understand her, but it was obvious she was genuinely excited and overjoyed.

Li Ren didn’t know what to make of it. What was this? Can’t remember an outlandish iron helmet, but can recognize my stomach?

What he didn’t know was that the girl was crying out: It really is you! The moment you took off your clothes — I recognized you at a glance!

Just as well Li Ren didn’t understand.

Just as well none of the Ning soldiers around him understood either.

—