When Shanhu came to, the world around her was absolute darkness, as though she had fallen into an endless night.

She had been knocked unconscious while it was already dark, and woke to find it still dark — so a brief disorientation was only natural.

When she finally came to her senses, the first thing she felt was the violent ache in her neck. That man truly had no restraint in his strikes.

Shanhu sat up and looked around. The commander’s mansion seemed to have been transformed into the underworld itself.

Darkness alone was frightening enough. Darkness carrying the smell of blood was worse by far.

She braced herself upright, then went one by one to wake the female soldiers who had been knocked out.

Looking at her own fighters, every one of them sporting bruises and swelling, she thought: that man really showed not the slightest consideration for the fact that they were women.

Then she gave a self-deprecating little laugh.

She had been the one who ordered them to shoot. What right did she have to blame him for fighting back?

If that man had actually meant to kill them, she and every one of her soldiers would already be reporting to the underworld by now.

Everyone ached. They helped each other back inside and checked each other over for injuries.

Fortunately Tang Pidi had not used weapons on them. Fortunately, even his fists had been held to two or three parts of his full strength.

Though when it came to Shanhu herself, he had struck a bit harder — perhaps three or four parts.

For no particular reason except that she was comparatively more durable.

“And we just let him walk away like that?” one of the female soldiers muttered with a vague sense of frustration.

Everyone looked at her, which made her a little uncomfortable.

Another female soldier sighed. “He’s yours to release, is he?”

The first girl huffed. “The Little Mistress had us blunt all the arrowheads. Doesn’t that make this our doing?”

Another said: “Even if the arrowheads weren’t blunted, they still couldn’t have touched him. He moved like a ghost.”

“That bastard…”

Shanhu murmured it under her breath.

Then sighed.

She said quietly: “If he hadn’t noticed that the arrowheads were all blunted, he wouldn’t have let us live.”

A young woman beside her said: “He noticed and still hit that hard. Just shows how cold that man’s heart really is.”

“At first light,” Shanhu said, “send someone to Tiger Head Mountain immediately. Bring my brother here.”

“Seal all news until my brother arrives. Not a single person outside is to know that my brother-in-law is dead.”

The women around her all answered.

Everyone understood clearly: once word of Di Chun’s death got out, the first one to come seizing the position of head chief would be the second chief, Chen Xiao.

Whether Chen Xiao was truly one of their own or a Bohai agent was genuinely open to question.

“Should we send people after him?” one of the female soldiers asked.

Shanhu shook her head. “No.”

After a moment she gave a soft, scoffing sound. “That man’s mouth is full of lies, but he carries himself with the bearing of a man of quality. He may really be the northern frontier general Xiahou Zuo. When I find the time, I’ll settle with him for hitting me.”

—

In truth, Tang Pidi had not left Shelu City at all. He still needed to wait here for Borte Tengo to return.

Two days later, Tiger Head Mountain’s forces came marching hurriedly into Shelu City. Shen Dongxia’s troops arrived in what seemed like their entirety.

By a roadside stall selling steamed buns, Tang Pidi sat eating and watching the troops passing through the street.

When he spotted Borte Tengo exactly where he expected him to be — mixed in among the column — Tang Pidi deliberately knocked over a bowl.

The crash drew glances from everyone nearby. Tang Pidi put on a suitably embarrassed expression and apologized to the stall owner, paying for the broken bowl.

Not long after, Borte Tengo slipped away from the column, changed his clothes, and came back.

Seeing Tang Pidi, Borte Tengo’s face lit up with excitement. “Brother Tangpi, you’re incredible.”

Tang Pidi smiled. “Incredible how?”

“Seeing you sitting here eating so calmly,” Borte Tengo said, “I knew Di Chun must already be dead.”

Tang Pidi asked: “Did you memorize the road to Tiger Head Mountain? The defenses on the way up, the guard posts — overt and hidden — did you take note of everything?”

“I’ve got it all,” Borte Tengo said. “I watched as I went up. I won’t get a single thing wrong.”

“Have you eaten?” Tang Pidi asked.

Borte Tengo shook his head.

Tang Pidi looked back at the stall owner. “Two more baskets of buns.”

Then he said to Borte Tengo: “Eat quickly. When you’re done, we’ll go and collect the gold and silver that we left in storage at Shen Dongxia’s place.”

Borte Tengo burst out laughing.

In Brother Tangpi’s eyes, the many rebel factions of Yanzhou — large or small alike — all had their gold and silver held in safekeeping on Brother Tangpi’s behalf.

No — on Li Chi’s behalf.

Shen Dongxia had rushed back to Shelu City in such urgency that he had brought nearly all of his forces with him.

What was left at Tiger Head Mountain? And having left in such haste, how could there possibly be any thought spared for taking gold and silver along?

—

Three days later. Tiger Head Mountain.

Naraan soldiers smashed open the storeroom doors. Borte Tengo stepped inside and immediately grinned.

“This Shen Dongxia really is loaded. This is wonderful.”

He looked at Tang Pidi. “You told me before that the woman called Shen Shanhu must hate you to death. And now, Brother Tangpi, you’ve gone and cleaned out her brother’s house too. If she finds out… won’t she hate you even more?”

Tang Pidi said evenly: “She already hates me. I don’t particularly care whether it’s a little more or a little less.”

He looked toward his cavalry and called out: “Clear it out as fast as you can. Time to find a new place to play.”

A cluster of soldiers answered with one voice, laughing and joking as they went to haul everything out.

Tang Pidi wandered over to a nearby kitchen and had a look around. He found some cooked meat, heated it on the stove until it was at least warm, and came back out.

Standing with food in hand, he watched the troops cart out box after box of silver and gold from the storeroom like a colony of ants moving a nest.

At this moment, Tang Pidi thought to himself: no wonder Li Chi enjoys getting his hands on money. The feeling of actually securing it really was quite satisfying.

Tiger Head Mountain fell that day. By that same day it was completely emptied.

The next day the troops were already a hundred li away, arriving like the wind and departing the same way.

—

Meanwhile, in Jizhou.

A certain someone who had become Prince Ning still showed not the slightest awareness that he was now a prince.

He played the role of an uninvolved bystander with complete contentment, and every afternoon made a point of setting aside time to take Gao Xining out for a walk, along with the dog and the divine eagle.

Gao Xining watched the divine eagle frolicking in the distance and sighed. “Yesterday Sister Nine said to keep a close eye on the divine eagle. Apparently it keeps running off toward the pig pens.”

Li Chi paused for a moment, then burst out laughing.

He looked at the divine eagle and said: “This ugly child has grown up.”

Then he looked at Gao Xining. “Actually, so have I.”

“Fine then,” Gao Xining said. “Tomorrow I’ll send you and the divine eagle to the pig pen together.”

Li Chi: “…”

“Still not satisfied?” Gao Xining narrowed her eyes. “Is it because you’re not being sent there alone — you have to go with the divine eagle — and you’re jealous of the divine eagle?”

“In a moment I’ll eat the divine eagle,” Li Chi said.

“You,” Gao Xining said, “have the nerve to talk about the divine eagle? At least the divine eagle goes to the pig pen and is king — surrounded on all sides, wives and consorts aplenty. You, on the other hand… how can you compare yourself to the divine eagle with a straight face?”

“Your inner fixation really runs deep,” Li Chi said.

“What fixation is that?” Gao Xining smiled.

“Back when we were young,” Li Chi said, “you were always trying to find women for me. Now I’m your man, and you’re still trying to find women for me.”

He tapped Gao Xining on the head. “Did a donkey kick you up there?”

Gao Xining said, in a long-suffering tone: “Mmm… just got kicked.”

While they were talking, several riders came galloping out of Jizhou City. Out in front was Yu Jiuling.

“Chief,” Yu Jiuling said, jumping off his horse and running over to Li Chi. “Scouts just sent this back from the Anyang area.”

He handed Li Chi an envelope.

Li Chi tore it open, took out the letter, and read it over.

“Luo Jing has taken at least forty prefectures and counties. He’s been recruiting and expanding at a furious pace. In just over half a year, the forces he has under him in Anyang have swelled to between sixteen and seventeen thousand men.”

Li Chi frowned slightly.

He looked at Yu Jiuling and said: “Send someone to Anyang for me. I need to deliver a letter.”

He turned to ask a guard for paper and brush, and as he turned, Gao Xining already had them ready and waiting.

Li Chi said: “You saw it too?”

“Luo Jing’s nature is that kind of proud, overconfident temperament,” Gao Xining said. “He’s been winning against Prince Wu time and again, always coming out on top. He may be getting ahead of himself.”

Li Chi nodded. “That’s exactly what worries me. Prince Wu is the real old fox. If Luo Jing lets his confidence tip over into arrogance, he could end up in a bad way.”

“But if you write to him now,” Gao Xining said, “he may not listen.”

Li Chi paused.

“He is that proud and overconfident,” she continued. “Advise him too often, and he’ll start to feel that you’re overstepping — managing his affairs at every turn.”

“If his own men say a word or two on top of that — talk of you interfering — Luo Jing will be even less inclined to hear you.”

Li Chi thought it over and said: “The first part you’re right about — he may feel I’m overstepping. But he won’t be turned against me by what other people say. Even so, this letter still needs to be written. If he underestimates Prince Wu, he’s not far from defeat.”

“He probably can’t believe right now that he’d ever lose,” Gao Xining said, gently shaking her head. “No matter who tells him, he won’t believe it.”

Li Chi put brush to paper. He wrote quickly. When he finished, he handed it to Yu Jiuling. “Get someone to deliver this to Anyang as soon as possible.”

Then he looked at Gao Xining. “Let’s hope he takes at least a little of it to heart.”

Gao Xining still did not believe Luo Jing would listen.

Let alone someone with that kind of proud, self-assured character — even an ordinary person who had been winning constantly, coming out on top in everything, would eventually grow proud. Luo Jing, with arrogance and defiance woven into his very nature, was simply more susceptible to pride than most.

Li Chi fell into silence, and found himself instinctively looking south.

—

More than twenty days later. Anyang City.

Luo Jing finished reading Li Chi’s letter, then laughed easily. “My brother, worrying at every turn.”

He set the letter aside and said with a smile to those around him: “Li Chi is worried that my territory and forces have expanded too quickly — that Yang Jiju, that old schemer, will find an opening.”

“And he’s worried I might be getting a little too proud and confident, and start to underestimate my enemies. This person — insufferably long-winded, but otherwise good in every way.”

One of the generals beside him said: “This Li Chi says our expansion’s been too fast, but I don’t think it’s because he’s worried about Yang Jiju finding an opening. I think he’s afraid we’ll get too strong and come take Jizhou back from him.”

Luo Jing’s expression changed. He looked at the man who had spoken.

He was one of the old generals from Anyang’s army. With the forces expanding so quickly and the new troops needing someone to lead them, these capable old generals had all been put back to use.

He had spoken to impress Luo Jing, and that had led him to say something like this.

Luo Jing smiled at him. “You’re not wrong.”

The man immediately bent low. “Thank you for the praise, King Ji.”

While the man was bowing, Luo Jing drew his blade without warning and took off his head with a single stroke.

“I can call Li Chi out. Li Chi can call me out. But if any of you think you can say a word against him in front of me…”

“Then you might as well look this man’s face over carefully,” Luo Jing said. “Commit it to memory.”

He let out a cold sound, then said: “Get rid of it.”

The guards stepped forward immediately and dragged the body out.

Luo Jing sat back down, thinking to himself: Li Chi, you really do underestimate me. Just wait and see how thoroughly I make that old schemer admit defeat.