Xiahou Zuo had no particular plans to visit Shuangxing Tower or anywhere like it recently, because his little sister was at home. Before she’d arrived, he had allowed himself certain indulgences — but if he went to a place like Shuangxing Tower now and his sister found out, she would likely never let it go.

The Carriage Inn.

Li Chi sat on the steps watching Xiahou Zuo study the Flowing Cloud Formation diagram, a smile at his lips — a smile of the uncharitable variety. Xiahou Zuo still could not quite believe that Tang Pidi had already cleared it.

“Why have you been so well-behaved lately?”

Li Chi sat there and asked. “I haven’t seen you drinking. And I haven’t seen you go swimming… cough, you know what I mean.”

Xiahou Zuo said with great solemnity: “What are you talking about! Drinking? Do I look like someone who drinks? As for whatever place you’re referring to — I have no idea what you mean.”

Even as he spoke, he was sneaking a glance at his sister, who was sitting on the other side chatting with Gao Xining and the others. Then he shot Li Chi a fierce glare.

Li Chi smiled. “Right, right — you don’t touch a drop. That’s what I meant.”

Xiahou Zuo nodded. “Correct. I virtually never drink. I also never frequent disreputable establishments. I am a man of purity and integrity, of impeccable moral character.”

Li Chi asked with an air of great seriousness: “Then what does this man of impeccable moral character actually enjoy?”

Xiahou Zuo said, “Reading. Calligraphy. Chess.”

Li Chi smiled. “Shall we play a game of chess then?”

Xiahou Zuo was quiet for a moment, then said, with absolute gravity: “Some other time.”

Li Chi: “Oh come on!”

Xiahou Zuo shot him another glare. “Enough nonsense. Can we talk about something real, like this Flowing Cloud Formation? How many passes have you completed?”

Li Chi said, “All of them.”

Xiahou Zuo stared. He narrowed his eyes at Li Chi. “You seem perfectly fine, and then you start spinning tales.”

Li Chi said, “I’m not making it up. Not long after Tang Pidi cleared it, I worked through all the variations in the Flowing Cloud Formation as well. Don’t believe me — test me. Every variation is memorized. You go in, follow the dodges I teach you, and you’ll get through it without any trouble.”

Xiahou Zuo said, “Let me try then — otherwise it’ll gnaw at me. Especially with you and Tang Pidi both having cleared it. If I can’t get through, it’ll look like I’m not their equal.”

Li Chi said, “Give it a go. There really is a pattern to it.”

Xiahou Zuo said, “All right. Watch.”

Li Chi agreed and called his master over to operate the Flowing Cloud Formation. Changmei the Daoist settled in behind the formation and looked at Xiahou Zuo with an expression of savoring some private amusement.

“Strictly speaking, I don’t recommend that unmarried men play with this thing too often. It’s not good.”

Xiahou Zuo said, “Elder, you were ruthless enough building this thing. Were you trying to ruin your only disciple, Li Big-Dumpling?”

Changmei the Daoist said with perfect seriousness: “He’s fine. Not as thick as you.”

Xiahou Zuo: “…”

He stepped into the Flowing Cloud Formation. “Then let’s see whether I’m actually thick.”

Li Chi sat on the steps not far away and called out guidance now and then. And his guidance was indeed precise in memory — remarkable, in fact. Under his direction, Xiahou Zuo did not avoid a single strike below the belt.

Not one missed.

Li Chi scratched his head, somewhat sheepish. “I really can’t account for this — Master, did you change the formation’s variations again?”

Changmei the Daoist sighed. “Even if I had changed them, I couldn’t possibly aim that consistently…”

Xiahou Zuo limped out of the Flowing Cloud Formation, grimacing. He gave Li Chi a look. Li Chi immediately said, “I genuinely could not have predicted that this old villain would be so vicious — just to hurt you, he went and changed the variations again.”

Changmei the Daoist said, “Xiahou, this is a matter between the two of you. Although I’m an elder and shouldn’t meddle, there is one thing I must say — not to cause trouble, but if I held my tongue on this, I truly couldn’t stand it anymore…”

Xiahou Zuo said, “Give me a moment to recover…”

—

That morning, Yu Chaozong had set out with his people for the north. He was worried about the camp — as its chief and elder brother to all, it wasn’t fitting for him to be away too long.

Gang Gang and Chen Dawei had both gone with him to Yanshan Camp. However, Yu Chaozong had left behind a hundred elite scouts for Gao Xining — though everyone knew about this except Li Chi; it had been kept from him entirely. Even Yu Chaozong had said nothing to him directly, only that the extra hundred men were staying for better protection of the group.

Li Chi, of course, thought nothing of it. He never imagined Gao Xining had gone out of her way to approach Yu Chaozong for his sake. This company of a hundred was placed entirely under Gao Xining’s command.

The gains from Yu Chaozong’s visit had been substantial. Over the past few days, he and the others had discussed daily how to eventually take Jizhou. Tang Pidi’s suggestions to Yu Chaozong had been carefully noted — once back, Yu Chaozong planned to select and dispatch capable men in batches to Jizhou.

Though Yanshan was the base of operations, it was only enough to hold the mountain and stay as they were if they had no greater ambitions. But if they wanted to go further, taking Jizhou was an unavoidable step.

Yet Li Chi’s thinking was not to take Jizhou as quickly as possible — but to wait for the right moment. That moment might come soon, or it might be two or three years away.

It was not something they could simply decide on their own. It depended on how things moved.

Prince Yu’s march had become unstoppable. The people in Jizhou still had no idea what had happened in the capital — because the newly enthroned Emperor Yang Jing had deliberately sealed off news to the north. He understood his uncle’s ambitions in Jizhou all too well: those ambitions could not be restrained, only extinguished.

In preparation for Prince Yu’s uprising, Yang Jing had already been recruiting troops and expanding the garrison forces, issuing new policies, and handing military authority to Prince Wu — the most formidable commander available — to hold the line in force south of the Red River.

Emperor Yang Jing had long since mapped out his strategy for dealing with his uncle. If he released the news now — the destruction of the Yuwen family, his own accession to the throne — Prince Yu would surely lose his nerve. Any ordinary man in his position would simply let the news reach the north, cause Prince Yu to think twice about moving, then find a chance to deal with him. A slow, patient approach.

But Yang Jing was not an ordinary man. He understood the medicine needed to treat Dachu’s sickness. The illness was severe — the remedy had to be severe too. The more forceful the treatment, the faster the cure.

And his uncle, Prince Yu, was the first ingredient in that prescription.

The military commissioners of each province were watching with hungry eyes, each waiting for a chance at a share, only keeping themselves in check for the moment. All thirteen commissioners held dominion over vast territories with forces of over a hundred thousand men apiece. To make those men quake, what was needed was a powerful dose of medicine.

Yang Jing’s plan: to use his uncle Prince Yu Yang Jixing’s head as a sacrifice to heaven. Lure Prince Yu into the field, shatter him in a single blow, and take his head. That alone would be enough to strike fear into all the commissioners across the realm — those men would have to think twice: the Emperor had even dared to kill his own uncle, so what were they?

Moreover, Prince Yu’s agents in the capital had been cut off. The ones who had been feeding him intelligence were all connected to the Yuwen family — even if some weren’t directly affiliated, they still required the Yuwen family’s protection to operate in the capital. With the Yuwen family fallen and Yuwen Chonghe’s entire household wiped out, Prince Yu’s network in the capital had been swept up in one net. A few taken, and the rest could be exposed through them, one by one. And above all — Yao Wuhen had gone over to Yang Jing, which had laid bare every last one of Prince Yu’s agents in the capital.

Yang Jing was a man of grand designs. He knew how to cure Dachu’s disease. He only needed more time — because this sickness could not be cured by the medicine alone, no matter how strong. The medicine was only one approach. The other required even more time: excision — cutting away the rotting flesh from Dachu’s great body piece by piece. But if the knife fell everywhere at once, Dachu would be killed by the pain.

Yang Jing needed time — to cut in the gentlest possible way, one by one, ensuring that those he meant to remove were already too late to react by the time they realized what was happening.

Three years. Yang Jing had set that as his minimum — to kill some, to frighten others, to use three years to stabilize Dachu’s situation.

If he could hold it steady, he would need not three years, but at least ten.

Give him ten years, and he could excise every last piece of rotting flesh from Dachu, leaving none behind. From the moment he had begun scheming for the throne, he had already mapped out what came after.

What he feared most was that time would not wait for him.

Prince Yu, of course, had no idea he was the first stroke of his nephew’s blade. He was still lost in his dreams of conquest.

Marching from Jizhou to the capital meant not only fighting — there were two natural barriers to force. The first was the Red River. Without crossing the Red River, everything was idle fantasy. The second was the Nanping River — without crossing it, the rich south would remain forever out of reach.

But what Prince Yu did not know was that Yang Jing’s planning was far more thorough than his. Where to defeat him had already been mapped out in full.

At that moment. Prince Yu’s Residence.

Prince Yu looked around at the assembled officials and men of influence. These were now, for all practical purposes, his patrons — the army’s march would consume enormous funds and provisions, all of which would have to come from these men.

“Gentlemen,” Prince Yu said, “I have said a great deal already. I have some other matters to attend to — the Military Commissioner has a few more things he wishes to discuss with you. I’ll step away briefly and return shortly.”

He gestured for them not to see him out, then looked at Zeng Ling. “Continue the discussions on my behalf.”

Zeng Ling and the others rose and saw Prince Yu out respectfully.

Once Prince Yu had gone, Zeng Ling smiled. “What I’m about to say is good news for all of you. As you’ve seen, the men the Prince invited today are all figures of real weight in Jizhou. The Prince is depending on your support for the campaign, so naturally he must offer something in return.”

He paused. “I’ll speak plainly. Once the army moves and captures a territory, new prefectural officials will be needed. Let’s be direct about it: for those who contribute the most silver, a nomination for prefect; then for deputy prefect; then for investigating official; then for warden…”

It was clear enough. Prince Yu intended to sell offices — to use the proceeds as military funds.

The men in the room were all much of a kind: families with no shortage of money, but few among them with official positions. Wealthy merchants and magnates, many of whom had dreamed all their lives of becoming officials.

Watching their expressions, Zeng Ling already knew — today would bring in a staggering sum.

The corner of his mouth curved upward slightly. In his eyes, all of them were fat sheep ready for the shearing.

*Official posts? Keep dreaming.*

When Prince Yu truly ascended the throne and became Emperor, how many of these bought officials would be left?

—