Clear skies and gentle winds.
Li Chi was up early for his morning training. After finishing his daily practice, he went down into the underground vault to make arrangements — a great battle was coming, and preparation could not be neglected.
This would be a far harder fight than the defense of Jizhou City he and Tang Pidi had fought in before. This time, there was a genuine possibility that Jizhou City would fall.
Li Chi now had many people to protect, and if not for the underground vault, his first choice would certainly have been to leave Jizhou.
The vault had been completely transformed into an underground fortress. Even if the entrance were sealed shut, his people could live there for years without difficulty.
To prepare for the possibility of extended underground living, Li Chi had thought through every detail, leaving nothing to chance.
They had stored enormous quantities of grain, and continued steadily purchasing livestock — chickens, ducks, pigs, goats, and more. There were even donkeys.
The vault was large enough, and there was more than sufficient grain and fodder — and there was no fear that the sounds of the animals would carry up to the surface. Li Chi and the others had tested it: the depth was sufficient, and there was a cellar they’d excavated themselves in between.
As Daoist Changmei put it, Li Chi’s thoroughness was the perfectly natural response of someone who had grown up with nothing — and thinking about it that way was enough to make anyone feel a certain tenderness.
Because he had had nothing, from birth through childhood, when life at last improved and he faced hardship again, he wanted to be ready for everything.
Li Chi had even invited Master Yan over to explore the feasibility of growing vegetables in the underground vault. After several attempts, they found that bean sprouts grew there with virtually no loss of quality.
His reason for going down early was to avoid the imminent arrivals of Military Commissioner Zeng Ling and Shen Rujian — both of whom had likely reached their limit by now.
Tang Pidi felt somewhat at a loss. Li Chi had stirred up the Military Commissioner so thoroughly, and now he was the one left to deal with the man.
The carriage came to a stop outside the agency gate just as the household was beginning to stir into the rhythms of a new day.
The staff went about their tasks — continuing to purchase grain, livestock, and whatever else was needed.
The Divine Eagle strutted in mincing steps through its domain, reviewing its army. The back courtyard now held over five hundred chickens, more than a hundred ducks, and some thirty-odd large white geese.
Since acquiring this retinue, the Divine Eagle seemed to feel its status had risen considerably. Every day it made a haughty circuit through the flocks of chickens and ducks and geese, visibly savoring the satisfaction of watching the domesticated fowl scatter out of its way.
Then it would scurry over to Dog in the most servile and flattering manner imaginable, as though reporting in.
As Yu Jiuling put it, the Divine Eagle’s swagger was entirely derived from its belief that it was the steward — its rounds through the yard were its way of checking on the quality of Dog’s breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
And yet, strangely enough, the Divine Eagle never bothered going near the pigsty, which now housed nearly a hundred pigs.
Yu Jiuling had analyzed this phenomenon at some length. The Divine Eagle, he theorized, operated on a rather petty logic: when it saw the chickens and ducks and geese, it thought — look at all these winged creatures; they look vaguely like my master, but I can lord it over them. When it saw the pigs, it thought — I absolutely cannot allow myself to be reduced to that.
—
At the front gate.
Shen Rujian stepped down from her carriage. This was her first visit to the agency, and she stood at the gate for a moment, studying it carefully.
She had grown increasingly curious about Li Chi — more so with each passing day.
Gao Xining, having received word of her arrival, came out to meet her with a warm smile. In that moment, Shen Rujian saw not a trace of smugness on the girl’s face — and she found herself having to take the young woman even more seriously.
Had Gao Xining been even slightly pleased with herself — pleased that she had seen through Shen Rujian’s design and that Shen Rujian had been effectively forced to come calling — it would have seemed small-minded. On the way over, Shen Rujian had been half-expecting exactly that: if Gao Xining greeted her with any hint of satisfaction, the matter would be settled — a girl like that would be no fit opponent for Shen Rujian.
Instead, she saw only composure. A girl of perhaps fifteen or sixteen, with that bearing — Shen Rujian felt her competitive drive rise sharper than ever.
Gao Xining led Shen Rujian inside. In the front courtyard, the staff were at their training. Lü Qingluan, following behind, glanced over once and his expression changed — he could see that the training methods these workers were using were indistinguishable from military drills.
Shortly after Shen Rujian entered, a mounted escort arrived, accompanying Military Commissioner Zeng Ling’s carriage.
When Zeng Ling had come last time, he had traveled lightly and simply. Today he came with guards and attendants in tow. The difference in approach already spoke volumes about the change in his state of mind.
Li Chi wasn’t concerned with any of that — he was deep in the vault, working out the best configuration of space for Luo Jing.
It had to be a sensible arrangement. Luo Jing couldn’t be housed near the others, and they absolutely could not have any connecting passages between them.
Shen Rujian had arrived. Zeng Ling had arrived. Li Chi decided it was about time he went to see Luo Jing himself.
—
Xinzhou.
Zheng Gongru’s mother stood in her courtyard, looking over the men she’d recruited from the jianghu, tallying in her mind what remained of the family’s funds.
Her one and only thought was to spend every coin, spare nothing, and help her son rise above everyone else. She would not allow him to end up like the men standing in her yard — people whose lives could be bought for a price, ordinary men living and dying for others.
Six of the people in that yard had been engaged at considerable expense. Their combined value exceeded that of all the others put together.
Four men and two women, all from the same sect. She had tested their abilities herself — genuinely fearsome.
These six were not from the Central Plains but from the northern steppes, though their master was a Central Plains man. According to them, he had been a wandering Daoist who, enchanted by the rough vitality of the steppe, had settled there some twenty-odd years ago. He founded a sect there, took in students, and these six were the first disciples he had trained.
These six were known as the Six-Direction Divine Blades — each having mastered a different sword technique. They had earned a formidable name across the northern steppes and were also called the Six-Direction God-Slayers.
Their master was called Quanyuan the Daoist, originally of Dragon Tiger Mountain.
Dragon Tiger Mountain had housed a Daoist lineage for centuries. Each generation produced figures of extraordinary talent who walked the world, acting with righteousness — and they were universally respected throughout the realm.
But Quanyuan the Daoist had not left Dragon Tiger Mountain under any sanctioned mission, nor of his own free will. He had been expelled.
The meaning of “six directions” is the six fundamental orientations: above, below, and the four cardinal points of east, south, west, and north. The names their master gave them reflected this: the eldest was named Qingtian, the second Chedi, the third Chudong, the fourth Luoxi, the fifth Yaobei, and the sixth Quenan. The third, Chudong, and the sixth, Quenan, were women.
These six had returned to the Central Plains. Their explanation to the elder Madam Zheng was that with the realm in chaos, they saw an opportunity to make names for themselves.
In truth, they had come south on their master’s orders, their ultimate destination Dragon Tiger Mountain — where they were to kill.
When Quanyuan had been driven out for his transgressions, he had nursed his fury for over twenty years, and had directed it into his disciples: return to Dragon Tiger Mountain and leave slaughter in your wake.
His chosen name — Quanyuan, meaning “perfect” or “complete” — also reflected this: in Daoist thought, the circle represents completion. But he felt no completeness until blood had been shed at Dragon Tiger Mountain.
The six had come south and decided to familiarize themselves with the Central Plains first — and to earn some money while they were at it.
By chance, in Xinzhou they had encountered a subordinate of Madam Zheng’s, who, seeing six strangely dressed individuals with unmistakably formidable bearing, had approached them on instinct. His mistress had promised ten taels of silver to whoever found genuine skilled fighters, and he had been hoping for luck.
He hadn’t expected to find six.
—
At the same time.
In the territory of Dazhi County, Yuzhou Prefecture, south of the Nanping River, there was a mountain called Pelihu Mountain. It wasn’t particularly tall, but it had decent forest cover and a pleasant three-part elegance to its scenery.
At the foot of the mountain, a young Daoist of about twenty — round-faced and generously padded — was leading a large group of people up the path.
“Friends, since I’ve taken your money, I naturally won’t deceive you. Dragon Tiger Mountain Daoists operate on the principle of integrity. Just follow me — I said I’d take you to see Dragon Tiger Mountain, and I will.”
The young Daoist walked and talked. “Dragon Tiger Mountain’s Daoist lineage spans several centuries. It is revered as the ancestral seat of the Orthodox One Sect. There are many breathtaking wonders to be seen on the mountain.”
One man in merchant’s attire looked completely bewildered. “Daoist, you said all those wonders are on Dragon Tiger Mountain?”
The young Daoist nodded. “Yes — no deception of any kind, old or young. All on Dragon Tiger Mountain. Which is why there is nothing to see here.”
Everyone stopped. Protests erupted on all sides.
“You took our money and said you’d take us to Dragon Tiger Mountain! You promised to have the Mountain Master himself pray for our blessings! Why have you brought us to Pelihu Mountain?!”
The young Daoist said with perfect composure: “This is not Dragon Tiger Mountain — but it is Dragon Tiger Mountain’s Yuzhou Branch Mountain.”
The group was more bewildered than ever. Then someone made a move to strike him.
The young Daoist continued explaining with great sincerity.
“My name is Zhang Yuxu. I am a disciple personally taught by Dragon Tiger Mountain’s true master. You might want to think carefully — would a true master’s disciple deceive you? And even if such a true master’s disciple did deceive you, how would that be any of my doing? I’m joking, please don’t take it seriously. Remember my name — Zhang Yuxu.”
“Some of you may be curious which characters — is it the ‘yuxi’ of the Jade Void Palace? It is not. The Jade Void Palace belongs to Wudang Mountain, not Dragon Tiger Mountain, and has nothing to do with me. My name is ‘yuxu’ — ‘yu’ as in white jade, ‘xu’ as in whiskers. Which is why you may also call me Old White-Beard.”
“Kill him!”
Someone finally pieced it all together, roared in fury, and lunged forward.
The young Daoist spun around and dove into the forest, glancing back as he ran, thinking: Jiangnan might be finished for me — maybe I should try my luck north of the river.
People these days really are impossible to deal with.
He was running and looking back when, from the other direction, a figure came crashing toward him — also running and looking backward. Two people, neither watching ahead. They collided with a solid thud.
Both sat up rubbing their heads and looked at each other.
“You being chased too?” the other one asked.
Zhang Yuxu snorted. “Aren’t you?”
He looked the other over — another young person in Daoist robes. “Are you also a Daoist?”
The other nodded. “I am. You too?”
“Where are you from?” Zhang Yuxu asked.
“Zhongnan Mountain,” the other said. “I’m Peng Shiqi. And you?”
Zhang Yuxu could hear the pursuit getting closer. He grabbed Peng Shiqi by the arm. “Run first, talk later. I’m heading north of the river — coming?”
Peng Shiqi nodded. “Let’s go.”
—