Li Diudiu thought that someone raised by a Master like his couldn’t possibly be a decent person by any standard definition. Not that “standard definition” even came into it—whether he qualified as a decent person at all was still up for debate.

The fact that he had leisure at this moment to sit in the cell and ponder such questions about life and his own character was because the cell had gone utterly, impossibly quiet.

The authorities must have assumed that Ragged-Pockmark alone would be enough to take care of things, and so no one had come to check on the situation.

No one disturbed Li Diudiu at all.

In the corner, a row of men crouched—pinching their own ears, not daring to budge, barely daring to breathe.

Ragged-Pockmark was done for. The young prisoner was done for. The old prisoner was done for.

What remained had reverted to their natural tendency to bully the weak and fear the strong. Even though the person they feared was a child barely ten years old, not one of them dared make a move.

Li Diudiu sat there contemplating: if he just died here in the Jizhou Prefecture jail, his Master would be devastated.

His Master was getting on in years. He didn’t know whether the old man could bear something this close to the loss of a son.

Just as these thoughts came to him, the sound of footsteps moved through the corridor outside the cell—more than a few pairs of feet, by the sound of it.

Li Diudiu didn’t get up. He didn’t feel like it.

Chief Constable Li Changxing and a middle-aged man who appeared to be in his thirties arrived at the cell door with several constables. When they saw three men lying on the ground and Li Diudiu sitting in the middle, their expressions darkened considerably.

Li Changxing let out a cold grunt. “Useless! Useless, the lot of you!”

Ragged-Pockmark had been lying there for some time, but he couldn’t stand. Some part of his body no longer felt like it belonged to him.

“Open the cell!”

Li Changxing shouted.

A constable hurried over, fished out the key, and unlocked the door. Li Changxing swept his eyes over the row of crouching men along the wall; the entire row shrank, not one of them daring to make a sound.

“Useless! All of you, useless!”

Li Changxing strode inside. He glared at Li Diudiu and bellowed: “Stand up!”

Li Diudiu looked at this man’s grotesque and hateful face and thought: if he were going to die, taking out someone like this before he went would at least count as ridding the world of a pest.

Li Changxing saw that the boy was ignoring him, and rage surged inside him. He stepped forward and drove a kick at Li Diudiu’s face.

*Thud!*

Li Changxing’s bulky body went stumbling backward. His feet couldn’t find purchase; his body tipped backward, and he went over in a tumble, crashing to the ground, lying there for a long moment before the pain registered and he finally let out a cry—as though he’d been holding his breath before that.

The middle-aged man’s expression shifted slightly. He didn’t bother with Li Changxing, who lay sprawled on the floor. Instead he walked to the cell door and looked at Li Diudiu. “Quite remarkable, that you have this level of ability at your age. The world of martial artists truly has no shortage of people who cannot be judged by appearances.”

Li Diudiu said: “Based on your words and your manner, you seem like the kind of villain with slightly more refinement than most. Do you have a title, or perhaps a suitably imposing five-character name? Something like ‘Primordial Thunder Hand’ or ‘Grand Wandering Scoundrel of the Western Regions’?”

“I am Cao Liehu.”

The middle-aged man said this without any anger, in a perfectly flat tone. “If you hadn’t just knocked Li Changxing back with that punch, you wouldn’t have been worth knowing my name.”

He extended a hand in a gesture of invitation. “I offer you the chance to fight me.”

Li Diudiu stood up and rolled his shoulders a few times, because he could already tell that this man called Cao Liehu was different. When sizing up martial artists: look at the shoulders, look at the knuckles, look at the way they stand. Even a rough assessment tells you a great deal.

A man like Cao Liehu had the look of someone who had killed many times over.

Li Diudiu said: “I suspect the people behind you still don’t want me dead just yet. So be careful when we fight—don’t go too far. If you accidentally kill me, you’ll have a hard time explaining yourself.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Li Diudiu exploded forward, launching a fist through the air aimed straight at Cao Liehu’s throat.

His fist was small, but if the blow landed, it would have left even a grown man gasping on the ground. Except that Cao Liehu didn’t dodge—he threw a punch directly at Li Diudiu’s fist.

Two fists, one large and one small, met in mid-air. A thud—and Li Diudiu was sent flying backward, back slamming hard into the wall behind him.

Cao Liehu looked down at his right hand. The skin over his knuckles had been broken; faint blood was visible. He frowned. “A child like you, left alive—you’ll only cause trouble in the end.”

He stepped forward.

Li Diudiu crumpled against the base of the wall, his entire right arm trembling—completely beyond his control. The martial skill and physical strength he had always taken confidence in had been beaten thoroughly by that single blow from Cao Liehu.

In this moment, Li Diudiu thought: *If I were seventeen or eighteen, this Cao Liehu would be no match for me. But I’m too small.*

Cao Liehu reached down to grab Li Diudiu by the throat. Li Diudiu rolled to avoid it and kicked toward the side of Cao Liehu’s knee. Cao Liehu shifted his knee outward and drove it into the sole of Li Diudiu’s foot.

Li Diudiu used the force from that impact to propel himself away, trying to get up and rush toward the cell door. But Cao Liehu was already there in a single stride, cutting him off, one fist coming down at Li Diudiu’s forehead.

*Thud.*

Cao Liehu’s body lurched sideways and nearly fell. He spun around—and saw, somehow, that the fallen Li Changxing had been hurled through the air, crashing into him. Li Changxing must have weighed nearly two hundred jin; that collision had knocked Cao Liehu’s punch off course.

Cao Liehu turned toward the cell door.

Outside, where no one had been before, there was now a person.

A young man who appeared to be in his late twenties stood there, dressed in a plain blue robe. Cao Liehu looked at him; the young man in blue was looking at Li Diudiu.

“Not bad at all.”

The young man in the blue robe walked unhurriedly into the cell. He reached down and helped Li Diudiu to his feet. “Did that punch of his hurt your right hand?”

Li Diudiu didn’t know who this person was—but the voice alone, just that voice, made him feel he could trust this man.

Li Diudiu nodded. “Yes.”

The young man in blue said, in an unhurried tone: “Very well. Then I will help you destroy his right hand.”

He turned to look at Cao Liehu. “Do you do it yourself, or shall I do it for you?”

Cao Liehu was clearly afraid. His name meant tiger-hunter; he had the strength of a tiger-hunter. But the moment he laid eyes on this blue-robed young man, he was no longer the hunter. He was the prey.

“Ye Zhangzhu—why are you here!”

Cao Liehu’s voice had a faint tremor as he spoke those words.

“Shall I ask again?”

Ye Zhangzhu looked into Cao Liehu’s eyes. “Do you do it yourself, or shall I do it for you?”

Cao Liehu’s expression was exceedingly unpleasant. “Don’t push me too far!”

Ye Zhangzhu nodded. “Understood. You’ve chosen to let me do it for you.”

“Don’t go too far!”

The words were barely out when Ye Zhangzhu was already in front of him. Li Diudiu watched helplessly as Ye Zhangzhu moved—but couldn’t make out how he had moved. There was only a blur, and then Cao Liehu was airborne, smashing into the stone wall behind him.

Then a blue shape closed in, and a single fist came down on Cao Liehu’s right shoulder.

The weight behind that blow was something Li Diudiu couldn’t have imagined in his worst nightmares.

A person’s fist—capable of this?

A dull, concussive impact. Ye Zhangzhu’s fist shattered Cao Liehu’s right shoulder. The sudden deformation split the fabric of his clothing, and flesh pushed through the torn seam.

The force of the punch drove through the shoulder and into the wall behind it. The solid stone of the cell trembled, and a layer of dust sifted down from above.

Ye Zhangzhu stepped back and examined the wound in Cao Liehu’s shoulder. He seemed faintly, ever so slightly dissatisfied. Then he looked back at Li Diudiu and asked: “Anything else you’d like to hit?”

Li Diudiu: “…Huh?”

He had absolutely no idea what had just happened—and had no idea who this terrifyingly powerful young man was, or why he had come.

Just then, the sound of more footsteps came from the corridor outside. Li Diudiu looked out and saw four soldiers in leather armor carry in a stretcher. Lying on it, grinning at him like a fool—a grin that seemed to say *don’t be scared, big brother is here*—was Xiahou Zuo.

The four soldiers carried Xiahou Zuo inside, and behind them walked a general in full iron armor. Behind the general came a column of fierce armored soldiers.

Xiahou Zuo looked at Li Diudiu. Li Diudiu looked at Xiahou Zuo. Both of them opened their mouths at the same time and asked the same question.

“Are you all right?”

Then they both broke into identical foolish grins at the same time.

One nearly eighteen, one barely past ten—and somehow this friendship had grown up between them. It looked odd, and yet it felt unmistakably real.

The iron-armored general stepped forward slowly and surveyed the room. “I am Liu Ge, the Courageous and Resolute General under the Military Commissioner. I have been dispatched by the Commissioner to conduct a thorough investigation into the case of persons impersonating official troops to assault Young Master Xiahou.”

He finished, then looked at Xiahou Zuo. “Young Master Xiahou—of the people here before you, which ones were the imposters who attacked you?”

Xiahou Zuo said: “All of them.”

Chief Constable Li Changxing pushed himself up against the wall, his voice shaking: “General—I am Li Changxing, Chief Constable of the Jizhou Prefecture Office. I am—”

Before he could finish, Liu Ge drove a single fist into his temple. The punch caved the side of his head in. Both eyes bulged outward, whites filling with blood. Li Changxing dropped to the ground, convulsed several times, and went still.

Liu Ge said at a leisurely pace: “In addition to impersonating my troops, someone has also dared to impersonate the Jizhou Prefectural Chief Constable, and even attacked me openly.”

His men answered in unison: “Yes, sir!”

Liu Ge raised a hand. “Take everyone here back to the garrison for rigorous questioning. Find out who ordered these men to impersonate our troops and attack Young Master Xiahou.”

A wave of府兵troops like wolves and tigers crashed in. The constables who had been wolves and tigers themselves in front of ordinary people were, before these garrison soldiers, nothing but frightened little chicks—too terrified even to resist.

“Let’s go.”

Xiahou Zuo said weakly. He was talking to Li Diudiu.

Li Diudiu smiled and nodded.

He could see that Xiahou Zuo’s injuries must be serious—yet he had still come, and he had come as fast as he could.

Li Diudiu followed behind the four men carrying the stretcher as they headed out. Xiahou Zuo suddenly called to him: “Li Chi.”

Li Diudiu asked: “What is it?”

Xiahou Zuo shook his head and gave another foolish grin.

Li Diudiu curled his lip. “Iron-post.”

Xiahou Zuo made a sound of displeasure. “Little Diudiu.”

“Iron-post!”

“Little Diudiu!”

Ye Zhangzhu and Liu Ge looked at each other. Both their expressions held some confusion, as though neither quite understood what had come over Xiahou Zuo.

After they had walked a few paces, Liu Ge lowered his voice and said: “Perhaps… he’s been playing with children so much that he’s become one himself.”

Ye Zhangzhu nodded. “Keep our distance from him going forward.”

—