When Zhou Shiren received Luo Geng’s letter, his response was to privately curse Luo Geng with equal creativity, both men paying thorough respects to each other’s ancestors.

But Zhou Shiren couldn’t afford to cross Luo Geng, and so he ordered Xu Suqing to be quietly put to death. Such a famous man in the jianghu — a public execution would bring catastrophe. Better to poison him in his cell.

Then wrap the body — or the head — in lime and ship it to Youzhou for Luo Geng’s satisfaction. That way Luo Geng would be grateful, and the matter closed.

Except — Xu Suqing’s reach in the jianghu was too vast. He had done too much for too many people.

One of the prison guards had come from a jianghu sect in Yanzhou. When he learned what was planned, he risked his life to get the word out.

Within hours, nearly every jianghu faction in the provincial capital was stirring. The news spread like fire.

On a certain night shortly after, the guard quietly unlocked the back gate of the prison — and the jianghu heroes who had gathered in the city poured through.

A fierce battle followed. At least a hundred jianghu fighters died. But Xu Suqing was freed.

After that night, Xu Suqing’s heart was ash. He felt nothing for Central China anymore.

And there was another problem — with a prison break of this scale, Commissioner Zhou Shiren would not let it rest. So the group decided to escort Xu Suqing beyond the passes to lie low, waiting for a chance to return.

It was only when they got him out that they saw what had been done to him. He looked barely human. Every person who saw it lost whatever faith remained in the court and the authorities.

Beyond the passes, Xu Suqing found he had no wish to go back. Many of those who’d escorted him stayed voluntarily — unwilling to leave his side.

Among them were some of Yanzhou’s finest martial artists.

All four of the Blood Slaughter’s Holy Generals were former jianghu men — men of considerable standing in the martial world.

Liao Tinglou himself was the finest among Bear Tiger Sect’s younger generation, second only — and only barely — to Sect Leader Jin Tuoding himself.

Once, these people had been celebrated figures across Central China’s jianghu. But time changed people, and the harsh environment of the Northern Wastes changed them further.

At first they simply needed to survive. The Northern Wastes were dominated by bandits. After some deliberation, they decided: why bow their heads to anyone, when they could carve out a kingdom of their own?

To the established bandits of the Northern Wastes, the arrival of these men was a catastrophe. Any one of them was among the finest martial artists from their respective sects — and the Northern Wastes bandits, however vicious, were not their match.

One by one, through blood and iron, they built a name.

And in that environment — kill or be killed, day after day — every one of them became a killer without mercy.

Xu Suqing most of all. Once his wounds healed, his nature darkened. His personality grew cold — even savage.

Toward the brothers who had saved him, he was absolutely devoted. He would have given his life for any one of them without hesitation.

Toward everyone else, even men within the Blood Slaughter’s own ranks, a single transgression earned no mercy.

Perhaps it was because he had once trained Luo Geng’s Yan Cloud Heavy Cavalry — with the Black Martial forces’ Iron Floating Bastion as their great adversary. He named his bandit force the *Blood* Floating Bastion. In those two characters — *blood* replacing *iron* — his hatred for Luo Geng was plain to see.

“Lord Ye…”

Liao Tinglou looked at him. “I know I’m going to die. I have no regrets about that, and there’s nothing left I particularly want. I have only one request — that when the time comes, Lord Ye might spare the chief once.”

His voice carried unmistakable sincerity. “The chief only became what he is because of what those officials did to him. Hansan Zhou is not something anyone can blame him for…”

Lord Ye shook his head slowly and spoke three words.

“That cannot be done.”

Liao Tinglou opened his mouth — and Lord Ye gave him no opportunity to say more.

Lord Ye rose and gave the order: “Bring him to the parade ground. Public execution.”

Liao Tinglou saw Lord Ye turning to leave and called out with everything he had.

“Lord Ye!”

Lord Ye looked back. Liao Tinglou’s eyes had reddened.

“Before I die — I must thank Lord Ye once more, on behalf of Bear Tiger Sect, for the grace you showed us all those years ago.”

Lord Ye gave him a single nod. He stood quiet for a moment, then said: “Go in peace. And before you do — know this: in the China that is coming, what happened to Xu Suqing will not happen again.”

He turned and walked out.

Not long after, Liao Tinglou was brought to the fortress parade ground. The signal horns sounded. Every soldier in the fort assembled — all but the men posted on the walls.

Liao Tinglou was brought to the center of the ground. He looked out at the rows of frontier soldiers shouting for his death, their voices crashing like waves against the sky.

Whatever thoughts moved through him in that moment, no one would ever know. He swept his gaze across the ground, closed his eyes, and said nothing.

The executioner stepped forward, and in one stroke the head fell.

—

Two days later. The Blood Slaughter camp.

Those few bandits who had managed to flee returned and told Xu Suqing everything. Xu Suqing’s face went pale.

Liao Tinglou was his sworn brother. How could he not be frantic?

The Black Martial Prince Kuoke Diye Lan’s special envoy Ye Fuzhi watched Xu Suqing’s reaction with private satisfaction. If Liao Tinglou had been killed by the Ning Army, so much the better — it would fill the Blood Slaughter with enough hatred that in any future engagement with the Ning Army, they’d fight to the last.

“I’m going to the frontier,” Xu Suqing said, and strode for the door.

“My lord—” Ye Fuzhi hurried after him, speaking as he ran. “Why such haste, Your Highness? The news just arrived — in all likelihood the Ning Army released survivors on purpose. They’ll be expecting exactly this. There are probably ambushes already set halfway there.”

Xu Suqing didn’t acknowledge him.

Ye Fuzhi raised his voice. “If you compromise the timing, if you disrupt the Black Martial Empire’s grand campaign southward — do you know what the consequences will be?”

At that, Xu Suqing stopped.

Ye Fuzhi thought he’d gotten through to him — but Xu Suqing turned around, and reached for his throat.

The moment Ye Fuzhi saw the movement, he reacted. In less than a breath, he shifted direction three times.

It didn’t matter. Xu Suqing’s hand moved without apparent speed — yet Ye Fuzhi simply could not evade it. With unhurried ease, the hand closed around his windpipe.

“I don’t like noise. You can close your mouth now, or you can close it permanently.”

He released him with a casual flick of the wrist.

Ye Fuzhi had the skill of a Black Martial Sword Gate swordsman. He should have been able to control his fall.

He could not. His body simply refused to respond, as if the strength had been drained from him in the instant that grip had closed.

He knew precisely what he needed to do — how to orient his body, how to land safely. He simply couldn’t do any of it.

A crash. His back struck a wooden pillar hard enough to rock the whole building, dust sifting down from the rafters.

He lay on the ground for a long time before he could rise. His meridians were disordered, his limbs numb, his chest stuffed as if packed with something solid. He couldn’t draw breath. Only when he vomited a mouthful of blood did it begin to ease.

By then, Xu Suqing was long gone.

Ye Fuzhi spat another mouthful of bloody saliva and hauled himself upright against the pillar.

*One day, I will make you understand what it means to suffer.*

He had come from the Black Martial Ghost Moon’s Eight Divisions — a swordsman of the Sword Gate. He had never been humiliated like this in his life.

After waiting for his blood to settle, he’d had enough of this place. He had his men help him out.

He’d expected to find the Blood Slaughter mustering for a march. Instead, the camp was almost still.

He asked around, and learned that Xu Suqing had been so impatient he’d simply ridden out alone — the men hadn’t understood what was happening.

Ye Fuzhi thought: *all the better*. Let that arrogant fool ride alone to his death at the frontier. The Blood Slaughter, without him, would be far more manageable.

More importantly — what Xu Suqing had done to him just now had genuinely frightened him.

But even as that thought settled, he saw the Blood Slaughter’s other commanders already ordering their forces to assemble.

He considered stopping them. Then thought better of it — these bandits had no rules. They wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

—

At the same time. The frontier fortress.

Lord Ye stood on the wall looking north. Something in the vast expanse of the open plain seemed to draw his gaze.

Senior Commissioners Yu Hongyi and Shang Qingzhu came to stand beside him. They exchanged a look and gave each other small nods.

Yu Hongyi spoke first. “My lord — one or two of the bandits escaped that day. Given Hansan Zhou’s loyalty to his men, he’ll certainly come with force to recover them.”

Shang Qingzhu added: “We talked it over and came to ask your permission — may we ride out with a unit to set an ambush on the road?”

Lord Ye shook his head. “No.”

His hand rested on the parapet, his expression grave. “Going out to ambush with our current strength — we have no advantage out there…”

He paused, then continued, his tone growing heavier.

“If it’s Xu Suqing who comes — you won’t be able to stop him on the road. You’ll only get yourselves killed. Don’t hold any illusions about this. There is no exception.”

Yu Hongyi asked, curious: “Is this man truly that frightening?”

Lord Ye was silent again.

After a long while, he sighed.

“I do not believe I am his match. I, together with all of you Senior Commissioners, may not be his match.”

“Fifteen years ago, Xu Suqing was the greatest hero of three provinces — and even then, he fought with restraint…”

He paused. His eyes grew complicated.

“But he is Hansan Zhou now.”

—