When Gāo Xīníng returned to the palace, she looked up to find Li Chi squatting on the high terrace, watching her with a grin.

The moment she saw him smile, she couldn’t help smiling back, her eyes bright and radiant.

“Did you get your revenge?” Li Chi asked, still grinning.

Gāo Xīníng said, “I wouldn’t call it revenge exactly — I just wanted to give them a taste of their own medicine. Whether it worked or not, it feels good.”

Li Chi burst out laughing.

Gāo Xīníng walked over to Li Chi’s side, mimicked his posture, and squatted beside him. Seeing him bouncing his bottom as he squatted, she started bouncing too.

This was only possible because they were inside Wèiyāng Palace. Out on the street, two people squatting roadside and bouncing like that would certainly be mistaken for a pair of idle layabouts.

“The Grand Ceremony is nearly here,” Gāo Xīníng said, bouncing away. “Are you nervous?”

Li Chi said, “The night of the Grand Ceremony is our wedding night. Are *you* nervous?”

Gāo Xīníng swiped at the corner of her mouth. “I’m practically drooling — and you’re asking me if I’m nervous?”

Li Chi: “…”

Gāo Xīníng grabbed his sleeve. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this day?”

Li Chi said, “Hmph… the way you look right now is like a man sitting down at a drinking table, cracking his knuckles, acting like he’s about to drink the whole table under.”

Gāo Xīníng huffed and said, “We’ll see then, won’t we? I asked Auntie Wú, and she said there’s no such thing as a woman who backs down in these matters — only men who do. I don’t know exactly why, but she said it with such certainty that it must be true.”

Li Chi said, “Why were you asking Auntie Wú about that for no reason?”

Gāo Xīníng said, “Just… asking around.”

Li Chi said, “Asking around about *that*?”

Gāo Xīníng said, “What? You can clearly just pick it up yourself, but you’d rather go ask someone — and you’re blaming me for that?”

Li Chi: “…”

Gāo Xīníng bumped her shoulder against his. “Tell me the truth — have you ever studied up on it?”

Li Chi shook his head. “No, I am a gentleman, and a gentleman…”

Gāo Xīníng narrowed her eyes and fixed them on Li Chi’s. His words died in his throat.

He stammered on: “No studying, I promise, but — as you know — surrounded by people like Jiǔmèi and the others, you can’t help but… absorb things. By osmosis, you could say. Pure osmosis.”

Gāo Xīníng’s eyes narrowed even further. “Osmosis? *Hearing* things is one thing — explain to me exactly what you *saw*.”

Li Chi: “…”

He sighed. “When all is said and done, the blame falls on those three elders. Look what they’ve done — turned a perfectly shy and introverted little girl into this.”

Gāo Xīníng said, “Shy and introverted…”

She stood, clasped her hands behind her back, and walked away. “So what you’re saying is I’m too forward. Fine — I’ll be cold and distant from now on.”

Li Chi said, “What the—”

Gāo Xīníng turned her head and laughed out loud. “See that? That trick those women love to use — I can use it too.”

Li Chi: “…”

The two of them were still bickering when Xiàhóu Zhuó came striding in from outside, his urgency written plainly on his face — something had happened.

“What is it?” Li Chi asked, not waiting for Xiàhóu Zhuó to speak first.

Xiàhóu Zhuó handed over a military report. “This just arrived by military courier. Things are not looking good.”

Li Chi took the sealed report and read it, his eyes sharpening.

“This Yuán Zhēn… truly is no simple man.”

A secret dispatch had arrived from the northern frontier. Not long ago, during a routine inspection at the border pass, soldiers had found something suspicious about a merchant caravan headed out onto the steppe.

One man’s age didn’t quite match the transit document he was carrying — a discrepancy that was noticed almost entirely by chance.

What had aroused suspicion was that this man had been hired on mid-journey. The caravan owner had no clear account of the man’s origins.

The owner explained that on the road he had encountered this person — who had a transit document, and claimed to have fallen on hard times with no money to get home, so he asked to join the caravan, wanting no wages, just two meals a day.

The owner, not one to pass up a bargain, took him on since the caravan was already short-handed.

The man said he was from beyond the frontier pass and could name his hometown — details that matched his transit document. The mismatch was in his accent.

It happened that one of the frontier soldiers on duty that day was also from beyond the pass. He listened to the man’s speech and found the accent wrong. They detained him for closer inspection.

Under questioning, the man grew visibly flustered — then turned and bolted. His martial skill proved no small thing; by the time the frontier soldiers had him surrounded, he had already wounded three or four of them.

Had he been armed, the injuries might have been far worse.

After capturing him, the soldiers went through his belongings carefully and detained the entire caravan along with him.

The caravan’s point of departure was not far from the pass, so soldiers were dispatched there to investigate as well.

In the end it was confirmed that the suspicious man had no real connection to the caravan. After holding the merchants for nearly twenty days, they were released.

The suspect himself proved remarkably stubborn — nearly twenty days of questioning and he gave up nothing.

It was only when operatives from the Court of Justice arrived and employed far harsher interrogation methods that he finally broke.

By then, however, the caravan had already passed through the gate and left.

He was one of Yuán Zhēn’s men — not part of Yuán Zhēn’s traveling party, but a backup operative. Yuán Zhēn, ever cautious, had kept three men concealed outside the main group at all times.

After all the Black Martial warriors at Yuán Zhēn’s side were killed, even Hán Fēibào had lowered his guard. Nobody had imagined three more men were hidden on the outside — which was why Yuán Zhēn had, well in advance, divided the map and his letter into three copies and given one to each of them.

Yuán Zhēn had ordered the three to take the long way around: from Qīng Prefecture through Yù Prefecture, then from Yù around to northwestern Jì Prefecture, and from there back north to exit through the frontier.

How many of the three made it out was unknown. But the one who was captured had split the map and letter into pieces and hidden them inside the horseshoes.

The frontier soldiers and Court of Justice operatives, searching as thoroughly as they had, never found a thing — because it had simply never occurred to anyone to look inside horseshoes.

Later, frontier soldiers and Court of Justice agents rode out beyond the pass to investigate. About two hundred li out, in territory that was once Chu’s but had long since slipped beyond the reach of any authority — in the region known as the Northern Desert — they found the bodies of every member of that merchant caravan.

The Northern Desert was no Black Martial territory; it was a lawless stretch thick with bandits. Given how desolate it was, even the Black Martial people hadn’t bothered to garrison it.

Following the leads the suspect had given, the search confirmed it: every horse’s hooves had been hacked off and taken away.

After reading the report, Li Chi felt a slow simmer of frustration rising in his chest.

Yuán Zhēn — cunning to such a degree.

Even if only one of those three men got the map and the letter back, it could spell disaster for the Central Plains.

“What now?” Xiàhóu Zhuó looked at Li Chi.

Li Chi thought for a moment and said, “Move the Grand Ceremony up. Then you and I will personally lead troops to the northern frontier.”

Xiàhóu Zhuó said, “You can’t leave the capital so easily. I’ll go alone — that’s more than enough.”

Li Chi shook his head. “This is the Black Martial people’s last real opportunity. I want to be there myself. It’ll put my mind at ease.”

—

Meanwhile, in the Black Martial capital — Red City.

Inside the vast palace, the Black Martial Khagan sat upon his high obsidian throne, his entire bearing radiating a cold, sinister air.

On either side of the throne stood a man in white robes — robes that were wide and loose, and each man wore a mask, making their age impossible to read. But their dress made their identity plain: both men were Grand Sword Masters of the Sword Sect.

A Black Martial general strode forward, holding a sealed letter and a map in both hands, and halted before the obsidian throne.

An attendant stepped forward, received the items, and presented them to the Khagan with a bow.

The Khagan first unrolled the map — it had been divided into pieces for transport and was now pieced back together. He studied it for a moment, then unfolded the letter and read.

After a long silence, the Black Martial Khagan seemed to breathe a quiet sigh, then passed the letter to an attendant.

“Let everyone see what Yuán Zhēn bought back with his life.”

The attendant delivered the letter to the minister standing closest to the throne — a man named Kuòkě Dí Yèlán, the Khagan’s youngest brother and the most hawkish voice in the Black Martial court.

After reading the letter, Kuòkě Dí Yèlán stepped forward and said, “Your Majesty, I believe Yuán Zhēn’s words, though somewhat embellished, are largely sound.”

The Khagan nodded, signaling him to wait while the other lords and ministers finished reading.

In the letter, Yuán Zhēn urged the Black Martial Khagan that if a southern campaign was to be launched, preparations must begin at once.

He had devoted his heaviest brushstrokes to a portrait of Li Chi — warning the Khagan that Li Chi was dangerous. If they did not march south while the Kingdom of Níng was still in its infancy, within a few years Níng’s strength would far surpass that of the old Chu dynasty.

Moreover, given Li Chi’s youth and the battlefield prowess of his generals, within just a few years of building their strength, the Central Plains would become a monolith.

Yuán Zhēn stated with certainty: if they did not take advantage of Níng’s unstable foundations now, there might not be another opportunity for hundreds of years.

“Your Majesty.”

A high official of the Black Martial court bowed and said, “Yuán Zhēn was merely exaggerating. Knowing his own death was certain, he wrote this letter for two purposes: first, to mask his own failures by inflating the enemy’s strength; and second, to demonstrate his loyalty. As it stands, the empire also needs time to recover. If we open another great war now, perhaps…”

“Perhaps what?”

Kuòkě Dí Yèlán let out a cold scoff. “Perhaps you have already grown afraid. Perhaps you have become so accustomed to luxury that you no longer know what ambition is. Perhaps you believe the empire is fine as it is and has no need to grow stronger.”

His rank was exalted; the official dared not argue back, and bowed his head in silence.

Kuòkě Dí Yèlán looked to the Khagan and said, “Your Majesty, Yuán Zhēn was of humble birth, but he carried the will to serve his lord and the resolve to die for his cause. I would never doubt a man who threw his life into the effort — but I have every reason to doubt a group of men who have lost their fighting spirit.”

He paused briefly, then said, “I believe Yuán Zhēn should be generously rewarded — richly rewarded. Enfeoffment as a marquis would not be excessive.”

The corner of the Black Martial Khagan’s mouth curved ever so slightly. No one understood him like his youngest brother.

To posthumously enfeoff the already-dead Yuán Zhēn as a marquis was to declare that the intelligence he had brought back was true.

“I am filled with grief!”

The Black Martial Khagan rose from the throne and descended the high dais with measured steps.

“I sent Yuán Zhēn to the Central Plains as my envoy — as an emissary of the Black Martial Empire. And those Central Plains people killed him!”

He walked, his gaze sweeping across the assembled ministers.

“When was the last time an envoy of the Black Martial Empire was killed?”

He asked.

Kuòkě Dí Yèlán bowed and answered, “Many years ago, Your Majesty. The Bó Chí Kingdom killed our envoy.”

The Khagan asked, “And then?”

Kuòkě Dí Yèlán said, “And then, the Bó Chí Kingdom ceased to exist.”

The Khagan nodded. “Then… the Kingdom of Níng can cease to exist as well.”

Kuòkě Dí Yèlán raised his head and looked at the Khagan. “Your Majesty, I am willing to lead the army south. I will not return without victory!”

—