Qingzhou.
This was a stretch of fertile land that rivaled Yuzhou — and with the eastern sea on its border, its people should have lived in comfortable abundance.
Yet war is the end of all things. Every steadiness, every sense of wholeness, every life of settled peace — all of it ends with war.
And yet war is also a beginning. When war ends, the land returns to what it was. As for the people — the land perhaps does not care.
If the land had any say, it might rather not have had people at all.
In times of upheaval, soldiers know no order. The restraining power of the magistrates becomes nothing.
Those who once sat high and untouchable found themselves dragged out and beaten by common folk, over and over again — dragged out and left in wretched states.
And among them, no one could always tell the good ones from the bad. Corrupt officials were pulled out and beaten by good people. Decent officials were pulled out and beaten by bad people.
Once order collapses, no one can escape unscathed.
You might think: I’ll stay out of it. I’ll tend my fields in peace. But the moment your crops are ripe for harvest, crowds descend and strip them bare. You might think: at least I have a roof over my head — only to return home and find someone else has moved in. When that happens, how do you choose?
And so the next transformation is this: even those who wanted no part in it get pulled in.
Wulai City was the prefectural seat of Qingzhou.
It sat not quite in the center of Qingzhou — positioned closer to Jizhou, perhaps seven or eight hundred li away.
Wulai City was now occupied by the great bandit of Qingzhou — Gan Daode — who had become something of a legend here.
Known as the Slayer of Kings.
Within Qingzhou, the Emperor of Dachu, Yang Jing, had granted titles to a dozen or more kings of varying size. None of them recognized the others’ authority — and so they warred with one another in a chaos that blotted out the sky.
It was into this chaos that Gan Daode raised his banner — with only four or five hundred men.
With those four or five hundred men, he first raided the household of a wealthy landowner and seized a substantial quantity of silver and gold. With that he purchased weapons and equipment, and his forces grew to over a thousand.
With those thousand, he stormed a county seat, seized the treasury, and took what was inside. Others assumed Gan Daode would stay put there and build his strength — but Gan Daode took his thousand-plus fighters and left, marching into a six-hundred-li marshland with all their looted gold and silver and grain.
He spent over a year quietly consolidating there. Then he led his force to strike the camp of another great bandit — while that man had led his army out on campaign — and stripped his base of everything before burning it to the ground.
This thoroughly infuriated that bandit king, who came back with tens of thousands to attack.
But the marshlands were easy to defend and hard to assault. For half a month that bandit king could not break through, and at last withdrew in frustration.
But on the road back, when his forces were weary and worn, Gan Daode took a water route shortcut to get ahead of them and laid an ambush.
With a thousand men, he brought tens of thousands to their knees, weeping and wailing.
From that point on, Gan Daode set out on his path as Slayer of Kings.
The following year he killed the so-called King of True Fate, taking in vast wealth in grain and supplies along with a flood of surrendering soldiers. Half a year later he killed the East Mountain King — and reaped another bountiful harvest.
Over three years of unceasing campaigns, he had killed eleven kings of varying stature within Qingzhou.
Now, Wulai City had become his stronghold. He held more than half of Qingzhou in his grasp.
The remaining kings had banded together in resistance — and only barely managed to maintain a fragile balance that kept Gan Daode from picking them off one by one.
Yet at this moment, Gan Daode had no rival left within Qingzhou. He commanded three hundred thousand troops and called himself the Slayer King — his name towering above all others.
Within Wulai City, he had rebuilt and greatly expanded the former Qingzhou Regional Governor’s mansion. The new additions he called the Slayer King’s Platform.
Following the ancients — ascending the high platform to worship the rising sun, to receive the rites of royal investiture.
In truth, in certain moments, everyone feels as though they are different from others — as though they are the protagonist of the world.
And in these imaginings, there is often a shared thread: the longing for incomparable luck.
The reason people long for this is that even as they think themselves extraordinary, they are in all other ways entirely ordinary.
Luck is the easiest shortcut that anyone can think of.
Gan Daode felt this way too — and his luck had indeed been remarkably good. From those initial four or five hundred fighters right up to now, these three or four years had been smooth sailing. He had never once lost a battle.
He was only thirty years old, and brimming with confidence.
“Great King.”
A subordinate came rushing in from outside, knelt at the entrance and touched his head to the floor: “A letter has arrived from Yanzhou.”
Gan Daode’s brow furrowed slightly. A letter from Yanzhou? He didn’t know a single person in Yanzhou.
The messenger looked up: “It is from Master Mu.”
Gan Daode immediately brightened. “Master Mu? Bring it to me at once.”
The subordinate scrambled up and came quickly before him, holding the letter out with both hands.
Gan Daode opened the letter and read it carefully. His expression shifted.
He had several great generals under him — all formidable fighters, proven on the battlefield, who had taken lives beyond counting.
These men Gan Daode called his Five Tiger Generals — a name drawn from an ancient tale about a powerful warlord who once had five tiger-fierce commanders under him.
The one known as the East Tiger General, an ugly man called Chouyi, leaned forward: “Great King — Master Mu has been gone a long time with no word. What does he mean by sending a letter now?”
Gan Daode said, “Master Mu says he has forged an alliance with the Shanhai Army in Yanzhou and plans to attack Dragon Head Pass and seize Jizhou.”
The West Tiger General, Liao Fanhua, laughed: “Excellent news! Everyone says Jizhou’s Prince Ning is not to be trifled with — some preposterous Human Emperor, they call him, and his Ning Army is supposedly unstoppable. I’d love to meet them.”
Gan Daode sighed. “But the timing is not quite right…”
He set the letter down and fell into thought for a moment before speaking. “Right now, Prince Ning Li Chi is holding the northern border with his entire force, fighting the Black Wu. The northern border battle is at its most intense. If we move on Jizhou now, we risk being branded traitors.”
Chouyi said, “But Great King — Master Mu gave us no small amount of support when we first raised our banner. He spent money and effort on our behalf. If we simply refuse him now, isn’t that a little too coldhearted?”
Gan Daode said, “Of course we cannot refuse. Master Mu has told me in this letter that his travels everywhere have been for our sake. He says he went to Yanzhou and offered his counsel to the Shanhai Army as a pretense — so as to push the Shanhai Army into attacking Jizhou. The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. Once the Shanhai Army has done the hard fighting, we swoop in and take Jizhou.”
Chouyi said, “That is a fine idea. If the concern is reputation, we just come up with a palatable reason.”
He chuckled: “We say we heard that the Shanhai Army, while Prince Ning was resisting the Black Wu, had the audacity to attack Prince Ning from behind — and we couldn’t stand by. So we rode out to help Prince Ning strike the Shanhai Army.”
Gan Daode couldn’t help but laugh. “Those words are thoroughly shameless — and thoroughly useful…”
Gan Daode rose and began pacing through the hall, thinking.
When Mu Fengliu first found him, he had promised endless supplies of material and grain — enough to fuel a rebellion. Over all these years of smooth sailing, Mu Fengliu had indeed been behind much of it. The man was formidable — widely connected and with deep pockets.
Gan Daode didn’t know why Mu Fengliu had chosen him — but he knew that Mu Fengliu had made him what he was: the Slayer of Kings.
And when Mu Fengliu left, he told him to wait for the right moment to ride out of Qingzhou — adding that when the time came, word would arrive.
Now, word had arrived.
After a period of deliberation, Gan Daode said: “This way — to make sure we’re not cursed to our faces by the people, let’s take one more precaution.”
He looked at Chouyi: “Write personally to those kings who’ve banded together against me. Tell them I intend to lead forces into Jizhou — but I’m concerned that once I march out they’ll raid Wulai City behind my back. So they must all march out alongside me. If they refuse, I’ll have no choice but to wipe them all out first, then march north.”
Chouyi burst out laughing: “Those pathetic kings will be frightened into wetting themselves by one word from the Great King. I’ll send the letters the moment I get back.”
Gan Daode nodded. “Let them march ahead of us. Once we’re in Jizhou, if anyone wants to point fingers, let them point at those ones first.”
He looked at the others: “Go and put the army in order. Leave fifty thousand in Qingzhou as garrison. We raise two hundred fifty thousand troops — and once those kings have assembled their forces, we strike into Jizhou.”
All the generals clasped their fists: “Yes!”
—
Yanzhou. West Capital City.
Cao Lie’s expression shifted through many things. After a long silence, he shook his head: “Do you know why I won’t agree, teacher?”
Mu Fengliu bowed. “Truly, I cannot fathom the young master’s thinking. An opportunity this rare — if it is missed, seizing Jizhou later becomes far harder, and reclaiming Yuzhou harder still.”
Cao Lie said, “Teacher just said the infamy falls on Mei Yan, not on me. But teacher — why is it that people fear infamy?”
He asked it and then waited for Mu Fengliu’s answer.
Mu Fengliu found himself uncertain how to reply.
Cao Lie said, “People fear infamy because they have a conscience. It is only those without conscience who fear nothing. So infamy is not something that sits on one’s head — it sits in one’s heart. And the most terrible infamy is not what others give you — it is what you give yourself.”
He gave Mu Fengliu a small smile. “Teacher has worn himself out scheming on my behalf, and I am grateful for his loyalty. But teacher — there are certain things that Cao Lie simply cannot do.”
Mu Fengliu stood dumbfounded for quite some time. He had calculated for every contingency — except Cao Lie refusing him.
By any ordinary reckoning, an opportunity this golden should tempt even the faintest spark of ambition in anyone. And yet Cao Lie — in his estimation the man most likely to contend with Li Chi for the realm — was here, at this very moment, talking about benevolence and righteousness, about lines one does not cross.
Seeing the strange look on his face, Cao Lie walked over and spoke to him plainly: “Teacher — I did say I was willing to do whatever it takes to win against Li Chi, even if it looks underhanded. But not this. Not treason. Even if I win in the end and stand above all others with ten thousand eyes looking up at me — in every one of those eyes I would see the thought: look at him. A traitor who became a king.”
He gave a small smile and softened his tone. “Still, I do thank teacher for the planning. Let us press forward steadily — no need to rush. And I will promise teacher this much: I won’t go to Li Chi’s aid either. Not helping is as far as I’ll go. Going further would genuinely weigh on my conscience.”
Mu Fengliu was silent for a moment, then bowed deeply. “I am a subordinate — whatever I devise, in the end, I must follow the young master’s orders. I would not dare defy the young master’s judgment. Young master, rest at ease. I will not press this further.”
Cao Lie nodded with a warm smile. “Teacher is good.”
Mu Fengliu said, “Then the young master should rest. I’ll go and speak with Mei Yan — persuade him not to march.”
Cao Lie gave a sound of agreement. “You’ve worked hard, teacher.”
Shortly after. The Hall of the King of the Crashing Sea.
Mei Yan narrowed his eyes and looked at Mu Fengliu. “Go on — tell me how it is.”
Mu Fengliu said, “March!”
He looked straight at Mei Yan and said firmly: “If you don’t march now, there will never be another chance. Take Jizhou in a single stroke — the entire northern territory belongs to the Great King. The Great King stands equal to the Dachu Emperor: one in the south, one in the north — both emperors.”
“Excellent!”
Mei Yan laughed broadly. “As you say — march on Jizhou!”
—