When Gao Zhen finished hearing Master Ye recount the origins and background of Hanzhanzhou, a nameless fighting spirit rose in him — mixed with a trace of regret.
“Since he had an old score with Grand General Luo, and I am now here in this place, it falls to me to settle that score on the Grand General’s behalf.”
He spoke almost to himself.
Master Ye had left one detail aside: the fact that Gao Zhen was Luo Jing’s disciple.
Gao Zhen had once been a mischievous village boy, discovered by Luo Jing and cultivated into one of the Ning Army’s most renowned warriors. That debt was immeasurable — Luo Jing was both his commanding general and his shifu. That bond could never be separated from who Gao Zhen was.
And yet — considered another way — Xu Suqing had once spent years guiding Luo Jing in martial arts back in Youzhou. He was, in a sense, Luo Jing’s teacher.
Which made Xu Suqing something like Gao Zhen’s martial grand-shifu.
“Wait until His Majesty arrives,” Master Ye said, seeing Gao Zhen’s eyes flicker, worried he might do something rash. “Your priority is holding the border.”
Gao Zhen was young and impulsive — Master Ye genuinely feared he might, in some agitated moment, lead troops to storm Blood Float Fortress’s camp.
“Rest easy, Master,” Gao Zhen said. “I am not as reckless as I once was. Holding the border before His Majesty’s army arrives — that I understand.”
Master Ye exhaled with relief. “In that case, military affairs here are in your hands. His Majesty gave us the task of scouting the northern wasteland, which we haven’t finished. Starting today, the Censorate’s men will ride out past the gates each day to survey.”
Gao Zhen clasped his hands. “Leave the military affairs to me, Master.”
With Gao Zhen and his troops holding the fortress, Master Ye could turn his full attention to reconnaissance.
At first light the next day, the Censorate’s people fanned out in force. Gao Zhen went to the city gates to see them off.
Watching them disappear into the distance, he let out a long breath. “The brothers of the Censorate — they have always had the hardest duty.”
His deputy, Wang Fengluan, nodded. “The dangerous work, they always lead from the front.”
Then, curious: “General — is that Hanzhanzhou Master Ye mentioned really Grand General Luo’s shifu?”
Gao Zhen nodded. “It’s true. The Grand General mentioned it to me once.”
He let his mind drift back. In those days he had just begun learning martial arts under Luo Jing — the techniques he’d been using were things he’d cobbled together on his own, fine for ordinary opponents but unsuitable for the battlefield.
Young Gao Zhen, curious, had asked: “Grand General, your martial arts are so formidable — what kind of shifu could have taught you?”
Luo Jing had laughed heartily. “My first teacher was no stranger — my own father. He was my founding master.”
Then he looked at Gao Zhen: “A person who loves to learn — if they are also fortunate enough to meet a fine teacher, that is one of life’s great blessings.”
“That great blessing, that great debt of grace — I encountered it twice. My father was my founding master. Later I found a teacher who guided my martial arts for years — Xu Suqing.”
“My teacher told me: the martial arts my father taught me were fierce and powerful, but lacked agility and fluidity. Yet what made my teacher extraordinary was that he did not ask me to change my approach.”
Luo Jing’s expression had grown somewhat quiet then — with deep respect for Xu Suqing.
“Teacher said: your martial arts are already formed. To force change would make you neither one thing nor another — not stronger, but contradictory.”
“Teacher said at the time: this fierce, powerful approach also suits you. What we need is only a small adjustment.”
“I asked what adjustment. Teacher said — just two words. *Simple.*”
“Take your approach to the extreme of simplicity.”
Now, standing here, Gao Zhen’s mind was full of memories of Luo Jing — his voice, his manner, every detail still vivid. He felt a pang of grief.
He turned to Wang Fengluan. “If Xu Suqing truly comes seeking a reckoning for old grievances, it is I who must settle that reckoning on behalf of the Grand General.”
Wang Fengluan said: “This Xu Suqing is now a bandit of the northern wastes. The General can no longer harbor any sentiment toward him.”
Gao Zhen shook his head and said nothing more.
—
At the oasis, Blood Float Fortress camp.
Xu Suqing stood at the third-floor window of the wooden tower, looking out. The weather was still cold, yet he wore only a single layer of thin clothing.
Perhaps the biting wind of the northern wastes could not touch his heart. Or perhaps his heart had been wounded so many times over that it had grown cold and hard as iron — beyond wounding now.
Blood Float Fortress’s military advisor, Xiao Ting, stood behind him with clasped hands. “Chief, the Black Wu special envoy is nearly here. Should we go out to the camp gate to receive them?”
Xu Suqing said: “It’s just Ye Fuzhi. He doesn’t have the standing to make me come out and wait.”
Xiao Ting said: “Word came with the message that it isn’t only Ye Fuzhi this time — there is also someone of very high standing in the Black Wu Sword Sect. Most likely a Grand Sword Master.”
“Does high standing in the jianghu mean one deserves my waiting?”
Xu Suqing glanced back at Xiao Ting. “Never mind the Black Wu jianghu — even the Central Plains jianghu has no one with the standing to make me wait.”
Xiao Ting urged: “We are about to go to war with the Ning Army. With a Grand Sword Master coming now, there must be something of great importance.”
Xu Suqing frowned. “Xiao Ting — have you forgotten what I said? Our alliance with the Black Wu is not a matter of us needing them. It is the Black Wu who need us. Given that, why should we grovel?”
Xiao Ting knew further persuasion was useless and simply nodded. “Then I’ll go wait outside. When they arrive, I’ll have someone come and ask the Chief to meet them.”
“Don’t you go waiting either,” Xu Suqing said. “Don’t give them such a big face. When they come, just have someone bring them directly here.”
Xiao Ting opened his mouth but couldn’t bring himself to say more.
He could see the change in Xu Suqing. Since Liao Tinglou’s death, Xu Suqing had grown quieter than ever. After so many years together, Xiao Ting knew well — the quieter Xu Suqing became, the deeper his killing intent.
The rift with the Ning people could not be healed now.
Though in truth, from the moment they had allied with the Black Wu, any reconciliation with the Ning had become impossible.
These past dozen years had turned Xu Suqing into a man who walked his own path entirely, indifferent to how others judged him. He had decided what he would do, and he would do it his own way — as for accusations of betrayal, of abandoning his people, all manner of labels — he cared nothing for any of them.
“Xiao Ting…”
Just as Xiao Ting was lost in thought, Xu Suqing spoke.
“When we first arrived in the northern wastes, all of us agreed not to take wives or father children. Looking back now — do you have regrets?”
Xiao Ting shook his head. “I never thought about whether I regretted it, so I suppose I don’t.”
Xu Suqing nodded. “Nor do I. But the brothers may not all feel the same.”
Xiao Ting asked: “What does the Chief mean?”
Xu Suqing turned to look at him. “When we first came north, none of us knew if we would live or die. We had no desire to return to the Central Plains. We were utterly disillusioned with the world. So we decided: no children for any of us. Sparing our flesh and blood from suffering after we’re gone.”
He paused, and for a moment his eyes drifted.
Then he continued: “If Liao Tinglou had had a child, we could have looked after that child properly…”
Xiao Ting shook his head. “Chief — we couldn’t have.”
Xu Suqing started, then gave a bitter smile and nodded. “Yes… we couldn’t. When this battle is over, everyone in the Central Plains will hate us to the bone. Anyone who wants to kill us will take their turn. If we had children, we would only be dragging them into it.”
Xiao Ting said: “Whatever path the Chief chooses, the brothers follow without hesitation. So the agreement we made then — no one regrets it. Fourteen years have passed. This too is a kind of freedom. Living without attachment — dying with even less.”
Just then, a hand called from the doorway: “Commander — the Black Wu people are here, waiting at the main camp gate.”
Xu Suqing said: “Bring them directly here.”
The man hesitated a moment. “Commander — the Black Wu people say: if the Commander does not come out to receive them, they won’t come in.”
Xu Suqing’s expression cooled slightly. “Then have them wait outside for as long as they like.”
Xiao Ting urged: “Chief, we’ve already made enemies of the entire Central Plains. If we also make enemies of the Black Wu, life will become very difficult for the brothers going forward.”
Those words struck something inside Xu Suqing — this, perhaps, was what the brothers truly felt.
Following him to make enemies of the whole Central Plains? Manageable — being called traitors and villains, so what?
But if they also made enemies of the Black Wu, and the Black Wu marched south into the Central Plains, Blood Float Fortress’s brothers would end up with nothing — and might be slaughtered by the Black Wu entirely.
At this thought, Xu Suqing could not help but sigh. He turned and walked out. “Then I’ll go and receive them.”
Xiao Ting’s heart unclenched — and he hurried after.
—
Outside the Blood Float Fortress camp.
A Black Wu man who appeared to be in his thirties sat on horseback, eyes slightly narrowed, expression already darkening.
He wore a robe of silver-white brocade — attire that unmistakably marked him as a true Grand Sword Master of the Sword Sect.
The Sword Sect held a unique position in the Black Wu Empire. Grand Sword Masters were exceedingly rare — which made their standing all the more exceptional.
Even the Black Wu Khan-Emperor would speak to a Grand Sword Master with a degree of deference.
And so a northern steppe bandit daring to treat him this way — how could he not be furious?
Ye Fuzhi, mounted beside him, was nearly trembling with anxiety.
If this Grand Sword Master truly lost his temper, the first to suffer would not be Hanzhanzhou — it would be him.
“Seat-Master…” Ye Fuzhi hastily explained: “These people here are uncivilized and unreasonable. Seat-Master, please do not lower yourself to their level. Simply regard them as uneducated savages.”
“Hm?”
The Grand Sword Master frowned slightly. Ye Fuzhi immediately fell silent.
A moment later, the Grand Sword Master slowly nodded. “I remember the Prince’s instructions. As long as these people are not exceptionally rude, I will not stoop to quarrel with them.”
Ye Fuzhi’s heart finally settled somewhat.
This Grand Sword Master was known even within the Sword Sect for his volatile temper. Whether toward Central Plains people or his own Sect brothers — if someone displeased him, he could act without hesitation.
—