Li Chi and his group stopped about seven or eight li from Linbing County, and went no further. Beyond this point it was open and flat, with nothing to shield them.

If there were watchmen posted on the county walls, they would be able to see them coming along the main road.

Moreover, three or four li outside the county town there was a village — small in size, but the main road passed straight through it.

As Liu Tiedan had explained, all the people remaining in the village were now followers of East Ridge Way, which meant that the moment they entered, they would likely be surrounded.

Given the capabilities of Li Chi’s group — fewer than fifty in all — there was no way a ring of villagers would actually stop them.

But to break through that way, they would have to kill people.

“Let me go,” said Yu Jiuling. “Just me, alone. Slip around the village, and if I can get into the town, I’ll do some reconnaissance. Too many people makes too obvious a target.”

Li Chi was about to speak when Peng Shiqī said: “I’ll go with Yu Jiuling. I know something about religious sects — if things go wrong, I might be able to talk our way out.”

And so the two of them left the group, circled around the village, and approached the county town, while Li Chi and the others found a concealed spot to wait.

There was a high rise of ground nearby, and Li Chi crouched atop it with a spyglass, watching anxiously. He worried about Yu Jiuling and the others. If the villagers here had truly lost their minds the way Liu Tiedan described, there was no telling what they might do to strangers.

Linbing County. The county town. The magistrate’s court.

A steady stream of figures in grey Daoist robes moved in and out. Their robes were nothing like those of orthodox Daoist sects — they had a strange, unsettling look about them.

These were the so-called Divine Soldiers of East Ridge Way. They carried an eerie, vaguely sinister quality — an atmosphere that made the skin crawl.

Perhaps from telling lies too long, or perhaps because the atmosphere had taken hold of them, these people had come to believe they were genuinely impressive, as if they truly possessed divine powers.

Their gait was lordly and self-important, and the way they looked at the townspeople carried the condescension of those who believe themselves to have transcended ordinary humanity.

It seemed that once draped in the name of the gods, everyone believed they had soared far above the teeming masses.

Inside the magistrate’s hall, a figure in red Daoist robes sat drinking, lounging with casual disregard. Every so-called Divine Soldier who passed by looked at her with evident fear.

By now, East Ridge Way had developed a strict hierarchy, and rank could be read from a person’s robes.

The Cult Leader had decreed the rankings. Divine Soldiers wore grey robes. Minor Divine Officials wore blue, and could recruit followers at will or conscript Divine Soldiers on their own initiative — how many they gathered was a measure of their own ability.

Red-robed figures were called Grand Divine Officials. There were only five of them, one installed as the presiding authority in each county.

Above them were the Purple-Robed Divine Envoys — only two in the entire organization. Their standing within East Ridge Way was equal to the Cult Leader’s, and they were known as the Left and Right Divine Envoys.

The Cult Leader wore black robes. Like the Divine Envoys, he had appeared openly at first, but to maintain an air of mystery, he had taken to traveling with a hat and veil to conceal his face.

The red-robed Grand Divine Official of Linbing County was none other than Que Nan, the very one who had fled from Li Chi’s group.

The Cult Leader was Xi Lizi. One of the two Purple-Robed Divine Envoys was Fang Yuzou, Que Nan’s master — and East Ridge Way itself had been Fang Yuzou’s invention.

Fang Yuzou had plied this trade in the northern borderlands. He understood that in times of chaos, people were easiest to deceive; the more disorder, the more ordinary people clung to belief in gods and spirits.

Xi Lizi had originally wanted to develop the way any other band of brigands did — raiding and pillaging to sustain the group.

But Fang Yuzou had disagreed. That path, he argued, would never build a large fighting force in a short time. No matter how well it went, they would still be nothing but a gang of outlaws.

After he proposed this scheme, Xi Lizi decided to give it a try. Neither of them had expected East Ridge Way to expand so quickly.

In barely half a year, within the territory of five counties, every person had become a follower of East Ridge Way. Even Xi Lizi himself began to feel intoxicated by this.

Yanshan Camp had been building for years; at its peak it had commanded two hundred thousand soldiers. Yet he had gathered tens of thousands of followers in half a year.

This method was considerably more effective than being a brigand.

And the feeling was entirely different. As a great brigand, people feared you, but in their hearts they resisted. As a Cult Leader, people would prostrate themselves before you in reverence — and that feeling had come to consume Xi Lizi.

He now traveled in the full persona of a Cult Leader, seated on a throne carried by sixteen men, receiving the veneration of the crowd. And he had grown to genuinely believe that he was the chosen of heaven.

Fang Yuzou and Que Nan’s chance meeting with Xi Lizi’s defeated soldiers had been purely coincidental — yet from that meeting, they had quickly joined forces.

Fang Yuzou had told Xi Lizi plainly: with this method, within two years, they could develop a million followers across dozens of counties in the northwest.

The very thought of it was intoxicating.

When a person’s position suddenly elevates, their character shifts accordingly. These were already cruel people by nature; and to maintain that position, they became crueler still.

Since fleeing, Que Nan’s temper had grown increasingly savage. As Grand Divine Official of Linbing County, she was a petty tyrant — having anyone who displeased her flayed or broken.

Here, she was the local ruler.

“Grand Official.”

A blue-robed minor official hurried in from outside, bowed, and extended a letter with both hands: “Just now, the Cult Leader sent a messenger with this.”

The glassy-eyed Que Nan took the letter, opened it, and after reading it, her brow twitched sharply: “Who does Xi Lizi think he is? Daring to address me in this tone? If it weren’t for my master, he’d still be a common fugitive.”

After her outburst, she tossed the letter into the brazier beside her.

Xi Lizi had sent word ordering her to return to East Ridge Mountain within three days. Any delay would be punished according to sect law.

“Has he gone mad?” Que Nan muttered on. “Does he actually think he’s some kind of Cult Leader? … Been deceiving others so long he’s started deceiving himself.”

She spat and told her subordinate: “Has the messenger left? If not, tell him to carry my reply back to Xi Lizi. Three words: I don’t have time. Tell it to him straight.”

Her subordinate’s face went white with fear. Que Nan might have no reverence for the Cult Leader — that was her business — but her subordinate dared not share her boldness.

Xi Lizi’s killings were merciless. And now that Xi Lizi had so many followers, he grew ever more afraid of anyone threatening his position — especially after what had happened with Yanshan Camp. He was particularly sensitive on that score.

The more afraid he was, the more anxious he grew, and the more anxious he grew, the more he asserted his authority — making him ever more heavy-handed with those below him.

Now he held back only against the two Divine Envoys — and even that restraint was purely on the surface.

What Xi Lizi most wanted was to be rid of Fang Yuzou. He had decided that the only person who could truly threaten his standing was Fang Yuzou.

East Ridge Way had been Fang Yuzou’s invention, and it was Fang Yuzou who had done the most work in cultivating followers. The supernatural performances that had deceived the villagers — all of that was Fang Yuzou’s doing. In the hearts of the followers, the Divine Envoy’s standing was very high — far higher than that of the Cult Leader himself, who, for the sake of mystique, was barely known to the common people.

Because he feared this, and because he now believed he had mastered the East Ridge Way method of expansion himself, he wanted Fang Yuzou dead.

This summons of Que Nan back to East Ridge Mountain was, in fact, a scheme to trap Fang Yuzou and the others all at once.

Yet he held Que Nan in contempt, and she returned his contempt in kind. As far as she was concerned, without her master, Xi Lizi was nothing.

Meanwhile, at East Ridge Mountain.

Xi Lizi and Fang Yuzou had been recruiting labor and building extensively on East Ridge Mountain. In just four months they had erected a grand hall, and before the hall they had constructed a towering altar.

Appearances were maintained with great care, because they both understood — the more convincing the display, the deeper the common people’s belief.

Xi Lizi sat in the great hall, fingers gently stroking the armrests of his seat. Sitting here gave him what he imagined must be the sensation of an emperor.

He even found himself thinking: this must be what it’s like when the Emperor sits in the golden throne room.

High above all, looking down upon the world.

No wonder everyone wants to be emperor. This feeling is extraordinary — as if a single gesture could command the life or death of countless people.

He narrowed his eyes and asked: “Is everything arranged?”

His subordinate replied: “Yes, Cult Leader. Bowmen are hidden in both side galleries. The moment the two Divine Envoys enter, they will be filled with arrows.”

Xi Lizi let out a slow breath, thinking to himself that an achievement and a position like this could not be allowed to fall into someone else’s hands.

If he had gone straight back to Yanshan Camp back then and killed Golden Armor and Zhuang Wudi right away, he would by now be the master of Yanshan Camp.

His failing, he had come to believe, was not being decisive enough. This time, he could not afford to waver.

The followers’ reverence for the Divine Envoys actually surpassed their reverence for him as the Cult Leader. Left unchecked, he worried he would end up nothing but a puppet.

Just then, a voice called out from outside: “The Divine Envoys enter the hall!”

Two figures in purple robes strode in. At the sight of them, Xi Lizi’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He rose in feigned welcome, smiling broadly: “Both of you have returned from your journey. You must be weary.”

The Left Divine Envoy, Fang Yuzou, removed his face covering and smiled. “Serving the Cult Leader is our duty. We are not weary.”

Xi Lizi glanced left and right, then called out in a loud voice: “Come! Bring tea and seats for the two Divine Envoys!”

This was the agreed signal. The moment he spoke these words, the hidden bowmen on both sides were to loose their arrows.

But nothing happened.

Xi Lizi’s expression shifted. He was about to call out again when he felt a sharp, searing pain in his lower back.

Behind him, the aide who had just been speaking with him drove a blade into his lower back — twisting it back and forth.

That aide had been his most trusted man from the Yanshan Camp days — a close confidant. Xi Lizi could not, for the life of him, believe it had come to this.

“You… how dare you!”

Xi Lizi struggled to turn his head and cried out in anguish.

Fang Yuzou mounted the platform and stood facing Xi Lizi, his smile calm and measured. “There is no man in this world whose loyalty cannot be bought — not if the price is right.”

He looked Xi Lizi in the eyes, enunciating every word: “You treated them all like dogs, always on guard, forever expecting betrayal — and you thought they would remain loyal to you? I promised him that if he killed you, he would become a Divine Envoy. Whose side do you suppose he would take?”

He reached out and lifted the Cult Leader’s golden crown from Xi Lizi’s head, then turned and passed it to the Right Divine Envoy.

The Right Divine Envoy took the crown, drew out a thin metal sliver from within it, and with a single sweeping gesture, cut Xi Lizi’s throat.

The body tumbled from the platform, rolling down the steps, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

Fang Yuzou made a gesture of invitation: “You are the Cult Leader now.”

The Right Divine Envoy removed his own face covering, donned the golden crown, arranged the veil, and settled slowly into the throne.

He looked at the aide who had killed Xi Lizi and asked: “What was your name again?”

The aide promptly replied: “In answer to the Cult Leader, I am called Wang Qihai.”

The new Cult Leader pointed at Xi Lizi’s body. “He is Wang Qihai. The Cult Leader dispatched him on a journey far, far away. He will not return for a very long time.”

He then handed the Right Divine Envoy’s face covering to Wang Qihai: “You are now the Right Divine Envoy.”

Wang Qihai was overjoyed. He dropped to one knee and bowed deeply.

Fang Yuzou smiled and said: “Some people always think themselves so clever. Was it not better to simply be a puppet and be content?”

The new Cult Leader seated on the throne raised his eyes and looked at Fang Yuzou. Fang Yuzou promptly bowed. “Cult Leader, I was speaking of Xi Lizi. As for you — I am wholly devoted, and will follow you unto death.”

—