The moment he saw Meng Kedi, Shang Qingzhu still could not keep his emotions entirely under control — he froze for the briefest instant.

But that tiny flash of hesitation would raise no suspicion in Meng Kedi. It was exactly the natural reaction of a person in that situation.

First shock. Then delight.

He quickly bowed. “This subordinate pays his respects to the General.”

Meng Kedi gave a slight nod, continuing to walk forward as he spoke. “No need for so much ceremony. My men and I have never stood on that kind of formality. Come inside and find somewhere to eat and drink.”

He strode ahead toward the reception hall.

Shang Qingzhu quickly acknowledged him and drew a single breath — quiet but deep.

With every step he took forward, his mind was running continuously, calculating the timing and method of his strike.

Meng Kedi had only four personal guards at his side — and Meng Kedi had brought no weapon.

What this man’s martial ability actually was, Shang Qingzhu genuinely did not know, because there had simply been no way to verify it.

What could be established was that Meng Kedi had been a soldier for twenty years, had fought in hundreds of engagements large and small over those two decades, and had come through the overwhelming majority of those bloody fights without so much as a scratch.

Prince Wu commanded a great many fierce generals, and the men his iron-fisted leadership had forged were largely the same.

From the intelligence available, it could be reasonably inferred that Meng Kedi’s martial skill was decisively above that of both Ding Shengjia and Xue Chunbao.

Those two men had no use for each other — but in Meng Kedi’s presence they were both deferential and respectful without reservation.

To kill Meng Kedi, then, the moment to strike would have to be judged with precision.

He was still turning all of this over when Meng Kedi glanced back at him. “Lord Guo — why does your color look a little off?”

Shang Qingzhu quickly answered: “In reply to the General — I was up the whole night, and I am indeed somewhat lacking in energy.”

He imitated Guo Ruren’s voice with roughly eighty percent accuracy. The technique of mimicking another person’s voice and intonation had also been taught to him by Changmei the Daoist.

On top of that, having gone without sleep, his voice carried a natural hoarseness that made it even harder to distinguish.

Meng Kedi was not particularly familiar with Guo Ruren to begin with — and that was precisely the fundamental reason Shang Qingzhu had decided to impersonate this man.

Added together, Meng Kedi had seen Guo Ruren only a handful of times.

If he were impersonating someone Meng Kedi knew well, even the finest disguise and the sharpest talent for mimicry would be riddled with flaws. People will not doubt someone out of habit — not at first — but that only buys so much time. Between people who know each other well, it does not take long before something feels wrong.

It is the infinitely small details of behavior that matter.

Fortunately for Shang Qingzhu, he had thought this through: Guo Ruren had spent his life as a servant.

And so when speaking to officials and men of rank, he kept his head bowed and his back bent almost every moment.

That, too, was something that could be turned to advantage — and something that would not seem strange to anyone watching.

If Guo Ruren had not been a servant and subordinate, no ordinary person would bow their head when speaking, or be too timid to meet the eyes of the person they were talking to.

It had to be said: the things Changmei the Daoist taught were all the most practical tricks of the jianghu.

“You’ve worked hard.”

Meng Kedi smiled faintly, glancing at the reception hall before them.

“I’ve drunk a great deal of wine in this room.”

Meng Kedi sighed. “Ding Shengjia was once the man I trusted most — and yet he betrayed me. In this room, you and I drank together more times than I can count. Now to look at it again…the place remains, but the person is gone.”

Shang Qingzhu lowered his gaze. “General — the fact that Ding Shengjia colluded with the Yanshan brigand Li Chi is truly beyond imagining, and beyond anyone’s power to detect.”

“Him?”

Meng Kedi smiled. “Do you really believe he was bought over by Li Chi?”

The mind behind Guo Ruren’s face turned swiftly. After a brief pause, he answered: “Regardless of whether he was genuinely bought over or not, at this point it must be treated as though he was.”

“Ha ha ha ha…”

Meng Kedi burst out laughing.

When he entered the reception hall, he ordered his personal guards to clear and set the table, then had the dishes arranged from the food boxes one by one.

“Sit.”

Meng Kedi pointed to the seat across from him.

Guo Ruren quickly murmured his thanks, then settled onto the stool in a posture of total deference — back slightly forward, perched only on the edge of the seat, ready to stand at any moment.

“You are still too stiff around me.”

Meng Kedi said: “After a few more drinking sessions together you’ll loosen up.”

He made a small gesture, and a guard stepped forward to fill both cups.

“I read your plan. It is good.”

Meng Kedi said: “But have you considered this — once you have taken those men to Jizhou for six months, there is no guarantee that some of them won’t have a change of heart. If even one person betrays you, the entire operation is finished. That is the single greatest flaw in your plan.”

Shang Qingzhu replied: “General, these men came for money. Promise them enough, and their loyalty is secured. Which is also the point I wished to raise with you — fifty thousand taels of silver seems perhaps somewhat insufficient.”

“Oh?”

Meng Kedi lifted his wine cup and paused, as if turning this over briefly. He looked at Shang Qingzhu. “Fifty thousand isn’t enough?”

Shang Qingzhu said: “There will be over a hundred and ten men in total. Fifty thousand taels divided among them — that truly is not a great deal.”

“That’s true…”

Meng Kedi set his cup down, rose from the table, and began to pace slowly around the room.

He came to a stop behind Shang Qingzhu. “Then what do you think would be appropriate?”

Shang Qingzhu turned to look at Meng Kedi and said: “At minimum…”

He had not finished the words before Meng Kedi’s hand was already at his throat — five fingers like iron talons, a hair’s breadth away.

Shang Qingzhu moved instantly. He drove off the ground to the side, throwing himself into the table and sending it flying, and at the same moment lashed out with his foot, kicking the stool — it flew straight at Meng Kedi.

Meng Kedi swept his hand through the air and the stool shattered.

He looked at Guo Ruren with careful, unhurried attention, and smiled. “Well now — I would never have known to look at you. Where did you pick up your disguise technique?”

Shang Qingzhu watched Meng Kedi warily, but did not answer.

“Little thief.”

The look Meng Kedi turned on Shang Qingzhu held something almost like pity.

“You were one of the jianghu fighters we recruited, weren’t you? Let me guess — you were sent by Li Chi of Jizhou? I was planning to send someone to kill him, and he sent someone to kill me. Interesting.”

He looked over at the four guards. Without a word, the guards closed the doors of the hall and drew their blades to stand watch.

Meng Kedi said: “One look at those bewildered eyes of yours and I can tell — you don’t yet understand how you were exposed. You played the role very well. The manner, the voice, the way of walking — all of it very close. But what you could not learn was the natural character of a greedy man.”

“You said fifty thousand was too little — you heard that from Guo Ruren himself, didn’t you. And so you repeated it without thinking.”

Meng Kedi said with contempt: “You understand nothing of how men in officialdom operate. Guo Ruren asked me for two hundred thousand taels of silver.”

Shang Qingzhu’s eyes flickered briefly — he truly had not anticipated being exposed this way.

That was simply how officialdom in Great Chu worked. He had overlooked it.

Guo Ruren had never held official rank himself, but he had spent his whole life serving those who had.

Meng Kedi said: “If you had the courage to come here and kill me alone, your skill can’t be too low. Come then — show me what you can do. Let me see if your ability matches your courage.”

Shang Qingzhu drew a slow breath, then stepped forward.

He had brought no crossbow, no chain, no grappling hook — any of those things would have been too likely to give him away.

He drove his fist at Meng Kedi’s throat. Meng Kedi raised his left hand and swept sideways — precise in timing and force, exactly right.

The punch was deflected. Shang Qingzhu shifted his technique immediately, driving his knee up toward Meng Kedi’s abdomen.

But Meng Kedi seemed to have already anticipated the move. His left hand pressed down, pushing Shang Qingzhu’s knee back.

The force made Shang Qingzhu’s body pitch involuntarily forward, and in that instant Meng Kedi raised his left forearm and drove his elbow up into Shang Qingzhu’s jaw.

One blow, and Shang Qingzhu was sent staggering backward.

Throughout all of this, Meng Kedi had used only his left hand.

“Truly… a disappointment.”

Meng Kedi shook his head. “Is this all you’re capable of? So Li Chi has no one of worth at his disposal after all. Brigands are brigands in the end.”

Shang Qingzhu said nothing. Just as before, he sent his right fist driving straight at Meng Kedi’s throat.

A flash of contempt crossed Meng Kedi’s eyes. He raised his left hand again and swept the same deflection, sending the punch aside once more.

Then his left hand came up from below, palm driving into Shang Qingzhu’s chin. Shang Qingzhu fell backward again.

Meng Kedi sighed. “Utterly no contest.”

He did not even bother to press forward and finish it — this man trying to kill him posed no real threat whatsoever.

Shang Qingzhu got back up and spat a mouthful of blood to the floor. He let out a shout — a sharp, raw cry — and charged forward again.

The same as before: right fist, straight at Meng Kedi’s throat.

The contempt in Meng Kedi’s eyes deepened. This time he did not deflect — instead he closed his left hand into a fist and drove it forward at Shang Qingzhu’s throat.

The two attacks looked almost identical on the surface, but Meng Kedi’s left fist was unambiguously faster.

Yet — in the very instant before Meng Kedi’s fist connected with Shang Qingzhu’s throat, a thin iron spike slipped out from the sleeve of Shang Qingzhu’s right arm.

Meng Kedi’s eyes flew wide.

He wrenched his head to the side. The spike drew a long, deep gash across his neck — flesh parted, blood poured immediately.

Had his reaction been even a tenth of a breath slower, the spike would have punched clean through his throat.

In that instant, Meng Kedi finally understood: the man before him had done it deliberately — both those earlier punches had been deliberate.

His neck had been torn open. And Shang Qingzhu had been sent flying by a single punch.

That punch landed on Shang Qingzhu’s throat, and it was devastating. When Shang Qingzhu hit the ground, he convulsed several times — even trying to rise again was beyond him.

He had known from the beginning that he might not be Meng Kedi’s equal. And so from the very start he had planned for this: to exchange his life for Meng Kedi’s, blow for blow.

He knew his own limits.

Shang Qingzhu understood very clearly — however gifted he was, however hard he had trained, how long had he actually been in training?

His opponent was a battle commander with twenty years of service. A man who had walked away whole from countless split-second moments of life and death across more than a hundred engagements.

Shang Qingzhu lay on the ground. That punch had left his head roaring, thick and heavy, a steady ringing filling his ears, his vision going to white fog — he could see almost nothing.

He let out a long, silent sigh in his heart. That exchange of life for life — it had still failed.

This was not fate. This was his own lack of care, and the gap between them.

At that moment, Meng Kedi came forward in a rage, closing the distance in long strides, and drove a kick into Shang Qingzhu’s chest.

The kick sent him skidding across the floor, and he slammed into the wooden door.

A thunderous crack — the door shattered. Shang Qingzhu’s body caught the threshold, flipped, and came to rest on the other side.

He tried instinctively to rise, pressing his hands against the ground to push himself up, but the agony in his chest robbed him of all strength, and instead he vomited a rush of blood.

Meng Kedi was still in a fury, charging out through the broken doorway. He swung his leg in a sweeping side kick aimed directly at Shang Qingzhu’s temple.

*Whoosh!*

The air tore apart — and then the ring of metal on metal.

From outside, left and right, two chains came flying in — like a pair of serpents lunging forward with their heads.

In an instant, the two chains coiled around Meng Kedi’s neck. Two black iron spikes drove into his left and right temples at nearly the same moment.

The spike from the left punched through and emerged from the right temple; the spike from the right punched through and emerged from the left. The two iron spikes ground against each other inside Meng Kedi’s skull.

In the moment of emergence, blood and sparks erupted simultaneously.

The two figures in black robes yanked their spikes free at the same instant, then at the same instant drove their feet into Meng Kedi’s chest.

Meng Kedi crashed back into the room, slamming against the wall.

The two dark shapes followed close behind. Two iron spikes plunged forward once more, pinning Meng Kedi’s corpse to the wall.

Both figures turned at the same moment, looked back at Shang Qingzhu, and at the same moment started toward him.

By now, Shang Qingzhu had collapsed entirely, his eyes seeing only white — a blank, formless brightness in which nothing was distinguishable.

“Who…” — he coughed — “…who is it?”

He lay on the ground and asked in a faint voice.

“Your comrades.”

Someone answered from beside him.

“Magistrate’s Army — Du Yan!”

“Magistrate’s Army — Fang Xidao!”

Every squad of Magistrate soldiers sent out to carry out a mission might be a lone unit.

But every person in the Magistrate’s Army had comrades at their back.

*Who says we stand alone — we stand, side by side, with you.*

—