Yu Jiuling returned to the transport company office past midday. The first words he said when he found Li Chi were: the man is in the Jizhou Prefecture jail. I confirmed he went in. I watched all morning. He didn’t come out.

Li Chi nodded. The prefecture offices were simpler than Prince Yu’s estate — relatively speaking. Rescuing someone from the prefecture offices was a near-certain death; rescuing someone from Prince Yu’s estate was a guaranteed death.

And there was one certainty: if the prisoner had been placed in the prefecture jail rather than the Prince’s estate, it was for one reason only — they were waiting for rescuers to walk into the trap.

Li Chi recognized the difficulty.

It was a dragon’s den, a tiger’s lair. Forcing their way in meant no guarantee of emerging without casualties. And he could not bear to lose those closest to him.

“How do we rescue him?” Yu Jiuling asked, looking at Li Chi.

Li Chi very much wished he could ask someone else the same question.

But everyone was looking at him. He wasn’t sure when it had happened — at some point, he had become the one who made the decisions. Especially now that Master rarely called him Diu’er, and his companions called him Li Chi. The name Diudiu had faded into the past, and decisions like this came to him more and more.

Yet how old was he?

Li Chi drew a deep breath. On those teenage shoulders sat a weight that even grown men could buckle under — the weight of lives in the balance.

“In the year or so we’ve been in Jizhou,” Li Chi said, “do we have anyone we can actually use inside the prefectural offices?”

It was Yu Jiuling who had handled most of this groundwork — though in truth, he wasn’t the ideal person for it. He was clever enough and quick-witted, but had no filter on his mouth. Easy enough with people he knew, but cultivating contacts inside the prefecture — people willing to take risks — was another matter entirely.

Yu Jiuling looked at Li Chi with an apologetic expression and shook his head. “No one of use. The constables I’m on decent terms with are too low-ranking — they have no say, and we haven’t reached the point where I could ask them to risk their lives smuggling us into the cells.”

Li Chi nodded. “That does make things difficult.”

Mister Yan and the Daoist Changmei exchanged a glance. Normally, neither of them involved themselves in such affairs — but seeing the expression on Li Chi’s face now, both felt a pang of guilt that was, at the moment, of no practical use.

“I’m going out to think,” Li Chi said. “Don’t do anything rash while I’m gone. Especially Brother Zhuang.”

He looked at Zhuang Wudi. “Magistrate Yue is worth risking our lives for. But if it means gambling every brother’s life — that’s too high a price. I won’t agree to it.”

Zhuang Wudi opened his mouth, then simply nodded. “Understood.”

Li Chi hesitated, then added: “Nothing moves until I return. Act as if you know nothing.”

“Should I come with you?” Yu Jiuling asked.

Li Chi shook his head. “No need. I just need to think.”

He took a few steps, then stopped. His biggest concern was still Zhuang Wudi, and a second thought had just come to him. “Brother Zhuang — take the men, change your appearances, and head in the opposite direction from the prefecture offices. Walk toward the city gate Magistrate Yue entered through. If you don’t run into any of his escort guards along the way, go outside the city. I suspect some of them may have survived. If they’re alive, they’ll be trying to find a way to rescue him — stop them.”

Zhuang Wudi nodded. “I’ll go handle it.”

He raised his hand, and took a group of the men off to change clothes.

Li Chi’s mind still hadn’t formed a clear plan. He walked out and kept walking as he thought, reviewing every person they might call upon — and coming up empty.

His brothers had a bone-deep aversion to dealing with anyone connected to the authorities. Not one of them lacked a grievance. Yu Jiuling’s mentor — the one who had been like a father to him — had died at the hands of the Surveillance Bureau. Zhuang Wudi’s hatred of the authorities ran even deeper. And Li Chi himself felt an instinctive resistance to those in power that he couldn’t fully suppress.

He walked to a spot not far from the prefectural offices and stepped into a teahouse, taking a second-floor window seat. He sat there looking out at the prefectural offices across the way, still without a single idea.

*Strength,* he thought. *The vast disparity in strength.*

Just then, from outside the private room, Li Chi heard the sound of footsteps approaching, accompanied by the obsequious flattery of a young attendant. Passing the doorway were prefectural office personnel — Li Chi had noticed them when he looked out the window. One of them wore the uniform of a chief constable. That would be Jizhou Prefecture’s Jiang Ran.

Li Chi stayed where he was, tilting his ear to listen — because he’d caught Jiang Ran muttering a curse under his breath as he passed.

From the neighboring room came the sound of chairs scraping, followed by Jiang Ran’s voice, filled with anger.

“A Western Regions barbarian — riding on the back of someone from the capital, one of the Yuwen family’s dogs — actually daring to act up in front of me. If not for the Military Governor stopping me, I would have genuinely killed him today.”

One of Jiang Ran’s subordinates said: “Sir, settle your temper. He’s just a barbarian without manners or civilization. A dog who bites because his master is powerful — knows nothing of reason or hierarchy. Don’t let him ruin your health.”

“They actually refused to listen even to the Military Governor,” Jiang Ran said. “Posted men at the jail door and wouldn’t let us act. The humiliation!”

A sharp crack — his palm slamming the table — followed by the sound of a teacup shattering on the floor.

Li Chi’s eyebrow lifted slightly.

“The Governor has already sent someone to inform the Military Governor. He’ll go to the Prince.”

“Useless. It’s already been half a day — if the Military Governor’s words to the Prince had done any good, the order would have come by now. It seems the Prince also wants to pull them all out by the roots — use Yue Huanian as bait to net the whole lot in one sweep.”

After hearing this, Li Chi’s mind began to turn rapidly.

He looked out the window and carefully scanned the street below, searching until he spotted several figures in various corners whose behavior seemed off. He hadn’t noticed them at first — but those figures hadn’t moved in quite a while, remaining fixed in place. These were not prefecture men. They were Jing Yanli’s people.

Li Chi breathed slowly, forcing himself toward calm.

Roughly a quarter-hour later, an idea had taken shape. He reached into his deerskin pouch, drew out the Azure Formation’s Brotherhood Knot, looked at it, and a smile gradually curved the corners of his mouth.

He stepped to the door, beckoned to the young attendant, and when the boy hurried over, Li Chi pressed the knot into his hand. “Bring this to the Chief Constable in the next room. Tell him it’s inconvenient for me to come in person, but I have a few words I’d like to pass through the wall.”

The attendant dared not dawdle and hurried off with the knot.

A moment later, the neighboring room went quiet.

After a short while, Jiang Ran’s voice came through the wooden partition: “Who’s next door?”

The private room dividers in this kind of teahouse were wood rather than stone and plaster — the sound carried easily. Li Chi moved close and said: “Sir, the Military Governor sent me. It’s not convenient to meet face-to-face. Please hear me out.”

“I’ve already posted men on this floor,” Jiang Ran said. “Go ahead.”

“The Military Governor went to petition the Prince,” Li Chi said. “The Prince’s position is that Yue Huanian should die — but he should first be used to net all his remaining people in one sweep. There wasn’t much the Military Governor could say to that, but he’s… not entirely comfortable with the arrangement. So he asked me to come…”

Li Chi paused briefly, then continued: “Sir — is there any way you could arrange to get a few of my brothers inside?”

“What is the Military Governor’s intention?” Jiang Ran asked.

Li Chi said, carefully: “The Military Governor has no intention whatsoever. Sir, you should understand that clearly. This affair has nothing to do with the Military Governor — nor, in truth, with our Azure Formation. It would be Yue Huanian’s associates who slipped into the jail and committed the act. And at the time, you yourself would not have been present — it would be Jing Yanli’s men on the scene.”

After a brief silence, Jiang Ran said: “I understand. Nothing to do with the Military Governor. But I need to ask — who exactly are we removing? Yue Huanian, or Jing Yanli?”

“Jing Yanli,” Li Chi said. “Sir, if you can arrange to bring a few of my brothers into the jail, then release Jing Yanli inside as well — the rest we’ll handle ourselves.”

The corner of Jiang Ran’s mouth curved. He felt considerably better already.

“How many men? When do they arrive?”

“Tonight, after the second watch. Two men go inside the jail. The rest remain outside to provide cover. To make it look convincing, we’ll take Yue Huanian with us — there’s a bridge on the east side of the city. Sir, wait there. We’ll turn Yue Huanian back over to you, and you’ll say you caught up to us yourself.”

Jiang Ran made a small sound of assent. “After the second watch, wait at the rear gate of the offices. I’ll have someone meet you and bring you to the cells. The guards will be moved.”

“Thank you, sir. The Military Governor will make a show of inquiring about the matter on his end. Please go along with it — whatever the Governor asks, simply say you don’t know.”

“Understood,” Jiang Ran said. “This affair is of course entirely unrelated to the Military Governor. It is equally unrelated to me. So if the Governor asks, I’ll answer honestly.”

After a moment, silence fell. Jiang Ran burst into the neighboring room at once — but it was empty. Yet none of the men posted at the stairway had seen anyone descend.

“Sir,” a subordinate said, “there’s something strange about all this. Should we send someone to check with the Military Governor immediately?”

Jiang Ran nodded. “Go now.”

His subordinate had barely turned away when Jiang Ran pulled him back.

A moment passed. Jiang Ran shook his head. He looked at the Azure Formation knot in his hand — no mistaking that. And it was knotted four times, which meant the person who had just spoken to him held no low rank in the Azure Formation.

What Li Chi had left behind was Xiahou Zuo’s knot — and a four-knot rank was indeed not insignificant.

“Don’t send anyone. Regardless of whether this is the Military Governor’s intent — gather everyone. Tonight, none of you go home. Stay posted outside the rear gate of the prefecture offices. Don’t leave a trace. If whoever comes in actually kills Jing Yanli, we don’t interfere. But if they make any unexpected move — kill them all.”

The corner of Jiang Ran’s mouth quirked upward, a hint of satisfaction in his smile.

“If they make any unexpected move, we use it. Say they were Yue Huanian’s associates — and cut down Jing Yanli’s men in the confusion as well.”

He laughed softly. “I’m rather hoping the man next door wasn’t sent by the Military Governor. If he was, we play along nicely. If he wasn’t — we clean house. Nice and thorough.”

Li Chi, as it happened, had not left.

He was lying on a roof beam above the room, listening as Jiang Ran spoke to his subordinates. He couldn’t help cursing inwardly. *This scheming bastard…*

Before long, Jiang Ran and his men departed in a hurry. Li Chi waited until they’d descended the stairs, stood by the side window to confirm Jiang Ran had returned to the prefecture offices, then slipped out through a rear window on the other side of the building.

He headed back toward the transport company at a brisk walk, his steps just a little lighter than before.

—