This battle showed many onlookers the outer edge of what was possible.

The outer edge of martial skill.

Yu Juling possessed a body and strength that were simply gifts from birth — advantages no other man could reach or replicate. Yet before Luo Jing, that heaven-sent power was nothing more than a byword for ponderous stupidity.

Yu Jianwan had a ferocious mind, ferocious methods of killing, and the heart of a beast — yet he too fell far short of Luo Jing.

Luo Jing had shown them all what he meant: it is not enough to be ferocious; even strength is not enough, not when it stands before me.

“Armor is for generals to wear.”

Luo Jing looked at that stripped torso, his contempt unchanged.

He could see it plainly — this man who wore iron armor and carried a saber-type weapon had spent his entire life fantasizing that he was a great general. But he was not, and no matter how convincingly he dressed the part, he never would be; he lacked the bearing of a soldier.

Luo Jing looked across toward Prince Yu. Prince Yu stood there with no apparent intention of withdrawing, and Luo Jing understood: the prince was waiting for Luo Jing to die.

So Luo Jing laughed. In his own reckoning, there was no one in this world capable of killing him.

But his strength of numbers was running low. Three hundred Tiger-and-Leopard personal cavalry had been fighting against at least twice that many enemies, and the manor guards were formidable, the jianghu fighters individually even more so. The situation was becoming strained.

At this point Luo Jing was not thinking about the fighting at all — his mind had gone elsewhere.

By now Military Governor Zeng Ling had still not appeared. Counting from the incident outside Shuang Xing Tower, the fighting had gone on for so long that even if Zeng Ling had been crawling, he should have crawled here by now.

And if Zeng Ling could crawl here, could the Jizhou army not crawl here?

So in this moment, Luo Jing’s killing intent was no longer directed at Prince Yu alone — it now extended to Zeng Ling as well.

*You want to use me? You want us to bleed each other dry?*

Luo Jing let out a cold sound.

His Tiger-and-Leopard cavalry had suffered grievous losses. Of the three hundred who had set out, fewer than a hundred and fifty could still hold a defensive line — more than half were dead.

“After today.”

Luo Jing swept his gaze around him, then spoke with unhurried arrogance: “I will demand an accounting from every person involved, one by one. No one should imagine they will escape.”

Even with half his men dead, Luo Jing showed no sign of retreat. If he wished to withdraw, no one could have stopped him.

“Tiger-and-Leopard Cavalry!”

Luo Jing roared.

The remaining hundred-odd soldiers responded as one.

“Cut them down!”

Luo Jing strode forward. The soldiers forming the defensive line parted to open a lane, and his heavy spear extended through the formation like a dragon surging from the sea.

What it met, it overturned. The spear moved with precision; one thrust to kill one man, sweeping through throats, driving through hearts — every movement a killing blow.

What had been a defensive formation among the Tiger-and-Leopard cavalry began to realign, forming an arrowhead charge configuration — they were preparing to advance.

Prince Yu’s face had been a bloodless grey throughout. He understood now: this sudden battle had in fact been inevitable all along. He had simply been outmaneuvered. The collision meant for him and Zeng Ling had somehow placed Luo Jing at the front.

Luo Jing had killed his way into a red frenzy. If Luo Jing did not die tonight, he — Prince Yu — certainly would.

“Shoot him!”

Prince Yu suddenly screamed.

A number of manor guards raised their repeating crossbows and loosed a volley at Luo Jing — but after fighting for so long, their bolts were nearly exhausted.

Luo Jing’s spear moved as though it had opened a door, as though it were no longer a spear at all but a great dark void that swallowed every arrow and bolt that came near it.

Prince Yu watched that display of force and felt cold dread seeping in beneath his fury.

“Kill him — ten thousand taels of gold.”

Another shout from Prince Yu.

Those jianghu fighters who had attached themselves to Prince Yu’s household — what had they come for, if not money? Ten thousand taels of gold was a fortune beyond their imagining.

They abandoned their other opponents and surged toward Luo Jing.

Luo Jing was born for the battlefield. Killing was his way of living — a talent of some kind that defied rational explanation; he had been born this way.

The fallen piled up. The bodies around him grew so many that the ground began to turn soft and dark, the blood pooling until the stones beneath were like mud.

Then, from the street outside the gates, came the thunder of hoofbeats — like rolls of thunder sweeping across the earth in wave after wave.

Luo Jing heard the weight of those hoofbeats, heard the shrieking of those warhorses, and knew: his Tiger-and-Leopard cavalry reinforcements had arrived.

So Luo Jing threw his head back and laughed.

“Yang Jixing!”

He leveled his spear at Prince Yu and called out in a great voice: “You should not have provoked me.”

Prince Yu stood where he was. The thought of withdrawing had only now occurred to him — too late.

Outside the gates, the Tiger-and-Leopard cavalry had halted, and a surging tide of armored soldiers began cutting into Prince Yu’s forces from behind.

A guard urged loudly: “Your Highness — withdraw! Wait for the military governor’s reinforcements to arrive, then fight back.”

“Reinforcements?”

Prince Yu said: “You’ve seen the Tiger-and-Leopard Cavalry arrive — that means Zeng Ling’s troops are not coming. He’s probably somewhere nearby hiding, watching all of this, laughing to himself. He couldn’t be more pleased.”

He reached out and accepted a long saber from an attendant, gripping the handle tight.

“I fought in the northern reaches when I was young, and I never retreated from a battle line, not once. How many times did I cut my way out when surrounded and outnumbered? I killed back the black-armored soldiers of Black Wu — today is simply one more battle to the death. I killed through those before; I will cut through these.”

He raised the saber and stepped forward: “Follow me—”

His words died.

An iron-feathered arrow came from behind him and drove through his shoulder with a dull sound, exiting out the front. The arrowhead appeared at his chest, carrying a smear of blood with it. The man lurched violently but did not fall.

Prince Yu looked down instinctively — and actually managed a laugh. A strange, unaccountable last smile. It was the same faint, barely visible expression he had worn a moment ago when he heard Luo Jing declare he would demand an accounting from everyone involved — a smile that surfaced out of despair and held, somehow, the faintest trace of satisfaction within it.

The long saber could not be held; it rang against the stones as it fell.

Whatever was left of his solitary defiance fell with it — and could not be raised again.

A long spear appeared before Prince Yu’s face. The spear head rested against his shoulder; one light sweep would open his throat.

But in the instant Luo Jing moved to strike, something lit up in his mind. Understanding arrived.

*Why had Zeng Ling not come?*

Zeng Ling had stayed away for two reasons: first, to let him and Prince Yu bleed each other dry; second, Zeng Ling did not want the name of a man who killed princes on his hands.

At this realization Luo Jing burst into sudden laughter. The spear pulled back from Prince Yu’s shoulder and was driven into the ground; he simply stood there, looking at Prince Yu with contempt.

The Tiger-and-Leopard cavalry that had poured in from outside had fully taken control of the situation. Their crossbows and bows were more than enough to reduce any jianghu fighter to ruin.

Even the most formidable jianghu fighter could not stand against three thousand iron-armored soldiers.

They might all consider their own martial skills exceptional — but what they had learned was not the kind of skill that kills on a battlefield. Put them in a real battle, and everything they had trained might vanish from their heads at once, leaving them only to hack blindly.

“Your Highness.”

Luo Jing beckoned, and signaled his soldiers to bring a chair from inside the courtyard. He sat down, then looked at Prince Yu. “Do you regret it now?”

Prince Yu looked at this young man who belonged to the generation after his own, and was struck suddenly by a startling realization: the world had long since stopped being something he had any say in.

“And what have you won?”

Prince Yu asked in return.

“What have I won?”

Luo Jing smiled. His hand moved lightly over the shaft of his spear; the shaft was slick and tacky with blood.

“I’ve won my life. Is that not enough?”

Luo Jing said quietly: “You say you were fierce in your youth on the northern frontier — let me ask you: do you still have that young man’s courage now, when you say those words?”

Prince Yu was silent.

“I’m not going to kill you.”

Luo Jing said. “The man who kills you is Zeng Ling. The man you want to kill is also Zeng Ling. That is between the two of you. I’ll have you sent to the military governor’s residence — your fate depends on your luck.”

Prince Yu said: “You’re not that foolish either.”

Luo Jing said: “But you have always been that foolish.”

Prince Yu let out a great laugh as well — except that his laugh was full of grief and rage. He finally understood what it meant to be the loser.

A loser who exhausted every last effort to maintain one final shred of dignity — it was entirely meaningless. Because the loser had no dignity left to maintain.

So-called dignity for the loser was nothing more than self-deception.

“Have him sent to the military governor’s residence.”

Luo Jing issued the order, then swept his gaze over the kneeling and pleading men — some from among those Prince Yu had brought, some remaining retainers of the young lord.

Prince Yu made his best effort to speak evenly: “Are you not afraid that once you hand me to Zeng Ling, Zeng Ling will not dare kill me?”

Luo Jing said: “Does he dare release you?”

Prince Yu fell silent again.

At that moment, without any warning, an iron-feathered arrow came from high above — arriving in an instant, with a suddenness no one had anticipated. In the night, trying to determine by sound alone where the arrow was aimed was no easy matter.

Luo Jing heard it and saw it. He immediately raised his spear to shove Prince Yu out of the way — but he was an instant too late.

The iron-feathered arrow drove into Prince Yu’s back with a thud and burst through from the heart, the arrowhead carrying a gout of blood as it appeared at his chest. The man lurched violently and still did not fall.

Prince Yu instinctively looked down. He actually managed to smile — and no one could say what that final strange smile was for. It was the same expression he had worn a moment earlier when Luo Jing declared he would demand an accounting from everyone — that barely perceptible smile that surfaced from despair and held within it the faintest, strangest thread of satisfaction.

—

On the fourth floor of Shengde Tavern, Zeng Ling slowly lowered the iron-limb bow in his hands. His expression was somewhat grim. He said nothing, and left.

Li Chi looked at Tang Pidi. Tang Pidi looked at the iron-limb bow where it lay.

That bow — an ordinary man could not even draw it.

Zeng Ling walked out in long strides, and his guards departed with him like a retreating tide, until in moments only Li Chi and Tang Pidi remained.

“Luo Jing must have worked it out — he couldn’t kill Prince Yu himself, so he intended to hand him to Zeng Ling and let Zeng Ling deal with him.”

Tang Pidi said. “In the moment Zeng Ling saw Luo Jing sit down, he must have read Luo Jing’s intentions.”

Li Chi nodded. “All I’m thinking about now is that he could draw the iron-limb bow.”

Tang Pidi gave a quiet sound of agreement. “So that’s what it means to keep your true depth hidden.”

—

Down in the courtyard of the young lord’s residence, Luo Jing stood over the fallen body for a long while in silence. Prince Yu had died before him, or died somewhere on the way — whichever — as long as he did not die before Zeng Ling, that was of course exactly what Zeng Ling had wanted.

“So you came — and only watched.”

Luo Jing said it softly to himself. He did not know this had been Zeng Ling’s own hand — but he could certainly guess that whoever had loosed that arrow was one of Zeng Ling’s people.

In this moment, Luo Jing laughed — a cold laugh.

“Jizhou.”

He let out a slow breath, then rose and gave the order: “Kill them all.”

The words were followed by a chorus of screams.

Luo Jing walked out through the gates of the young lord’s residence, and paused to look back once. That body lying in the dirt looked like nothing in particular.

A dead man was a dead man, whatever name had been attached to him in life.

“Luo Zhijie.”

“Here, sir.”

“Tomorrow at first light, take men back to Youzhou to see my father. Tell him—”

Luo Jing leaned close to his captain’s ear and spoke a few words quietly. Luo Zhijie was visibly startled — but quickly recovered his composure and clasped his hands in a salute. “I will return to Jizhou with all possible speed.”

Luo Jing gave a sound of assent and continued walking forward.