If the chance encounter on Lake Xiaoling had never happened, dealing with Mu Fengliu might have been somewhat easier.

After all, Cao Lie had already laid extensive plans before his arrival, implementing them step by step.

Yet the world is always full of such coincidences — or perhaps Mu Fengliu’s luck had simply run a little too good.

If he hadn’t persuaded Mei Yan to go boating on Lake Xiaoling, Nie She would never have crossed paths with Mei Yan, and his cover would never have been blown.

If this wasn’t simply Mu Fengliu’s extraordinary good fortune, then all one could say was that Mei Yan had extraordinarily terrible luck.

Or perhaps Mei Yan was simply fated to die that day.

Inside the Shanhai Army’s main camp.

Mu Fengliu stared down at the corpse on the ground, his face a picture of barely contained fury.

He had never, in his wildest imaginings, anticipated this — he had only meant to send Mei Yan away, and instead he had sent Mei Yan to his grave.

From the accounts of those who had fled back to camp, he learned that the person who had struck down the Tsunami King was extraordinarily formidable — one man killing dozens, then slipping away without a scratch.

Everyone aboard the boat at the time had perished. The bandits stationed on the shore had witnessed the scene from a distance, though not with perfect clarity.

All they had seen was a figure launching upward, leaping from a small boat onto the Tsunami King’s vessel — and then the Tsunami King was dead, and every soul on that boat was dead with him.

From these accounts, Mu Fengliu worked to determine who had killed Mei Yan.

“Cao Lie has come…”

He murmured to himself.

A killer does not appear without reason, and a master of such caliber was not someone one encountered every day — so the only reasonable explanation was that Cao Lie had tracked him down.

“Seal the information. Do not let the soldiers know.”

Mu Fengliu turned and addressed his assembled commanders: “The moment the soldiers learn the Tsunami King is dead, what little fighting spirit remains will be extinguished entirely… so everyone who knows must be eliminated!”

The generals inside the great tent exchanged glances, none of them knowing quite how to respond.

“My lord,” one of them ventured, “now that the Tsunami King is dead, continuing the assault on Dragon’s Head Pass serves no purpose. Perhaps we should temporarily withdraw to Yanzhou and reassess.”

Mu Fengliu fixed the man with a withering glare. “We’ve come this far, and you want to retreat?”

Another spoke up: “But my lord, this cannot be kept secret for long. When the news breaks and morale collapses, we won’t just fail to take Dragon’s Head Pass — the army itself may fall apart entirely. At that point, no one will be able to hold them together.”

These commanders all understood that the Tsunami King was nothing but a figurehead. But the hundred-and-some thousand soldiers certainly weren’t thinking in those terms — if they learned their king was dead, they would feel utterly leaderless, and who among them would have any heart left for storming fortified gates?

“Unless…”

One man clasped his fists and said: “My lord steps forward to take command. Find some pretext — say that Mei Yan deserved to die, that he has been dealt with accordingly. Proclaim my lord as the new king. I believe, sooner is better than later.”

Mu Fengliu’s expression shifted continuously. Mei Yan’s death had indeed thrown his plans into disarray.

Of course, his plans had already been disrupted long before this by the stubborn tenacity of Dragon’s Head Pass’s garrison. By his original calculations, he should have already led the Shanhai Army to assault Li Chi’s border forces by now.

“Tomorrow…” he finally said. “We attack Dragon’s Head Pass with everything we have. No matter the cost. If… if we still cannot take it, then we will have no choice but to withdraw.”

Mu Fengliu let out a long, heavy breath.

He had hoped to arrive in time to coordinate with the Black Martial Empire’s army in the northern frontier — a hammer-and-anvil operation. But when he counted the days, he had to admit that window had already closed.

Even if tomorrow’s all-out assault broke through Dragon’s Head Pass, by the time he force-marched the Shanhai Army to the northern frontier, the depths of winter would already be upon them.

“So, gentlemen — tomorrow, give everything you have.”

He clasped his fists and spoke those words.

But every man there had his own calculations running behind his eyes.

At this moment, with Mei Yan dead, who exactly held authority over the Shanhai Army? No one had settled that question.

Everyone was calling for Mu Fengliu to assume the Tsunami King’s mantle — but did they truly have no ambitions of their own?

Each of these commanding generals wanted to be the one at the top.

If no single person could command the loyalty of all the others, then the simplest outcome was dissolution — each man taking his own forces and going his own way. Anyone could find a mountain to claim as a stronghold.

“General Liu. General Zhao.”

Mu Fengliu looked toward two of the commanders. “A word in private, if you please — I have something important to discuss with you.”

The two exchanged a glance, then nodded simultaneously. “Of course.”

The others dispersed to prepare for the next day’s assault — or so it appeared on the surface. Whether Mu Fengliu wanted them to commit their full strength was one thing; whether they would actually do it was quite another.

Those with larger forces were thinking: if I throw my men at those walls and suffer heavy casualties, I destroy my own chances of becoming the next leader.

Those with smaller forces were thinking: fighting for the top spot is a game for those with large armies — my priority is self-preservation.

And then there was the question of alignment. The powerful faction leaders would soon begin quietly pulling the smaller ones into their orbits.

Mu Fengliu called himself the supreme commander, but at this point, Mu Fengliu amounted to precious little.

By the time dusk deepened, every commander had returned to his own camp — not one of them genuinely preparing for the next day’s assault.

Inside the great tent, one of the Shanhai Army’s chief commanders — a middle-aged man named Liu Feng — looked at Mu Fengliu and said: “My lord kept us behind. What instructions do you have?”

The other man, Zhao Ba, was privately thinking: could it be that he intends to choose one of us as the new leader?

The thought brought a flicker of irritation — what right did Liu Feng have to be mentioned in the same breath as himself?

Both men concealed their thoughts perfectly, presenting identical expressions of composed attentiveness.

Mu Fengliu said: “I have a fairly good idea of who killed the Tsunami King — and a fairly good idea of where he is hiding now. After all, a portion of what he knows… I taught him myself.”

As he spoke, Mu Fengliu walked to the entrance of the tent and gazed toward a nearby mountain.

If he were Cao Lie, that mountain was exactly where he would be — somewhere with a clear vantage point overlooking the entire Shanhai Army camp, watching in the shadows.

Mu Fengliu also knew perfectly well that Cao Lie had not come specifically to kill the Tsunami King. To someone like Cao Lie, the Tsunami King Mei Yan was utterly beneath notice — not worth a second glance.

Cao Lie had come for him, Mu Fengliu — and had already deployed the most elite operatives from the Shanhe Seal.

So he refused to sit and wait for the blade to find him. He would make Cao Lie understand: without Mu Fengliu, Cao Lie was nothing.

“Gentlemen.”

Mu Fengliu pointed toward the mountain. “Tonight, the two of you will quietly mobilize your forces and surround that mountain. We are going to drag out the man who assassinated the Tsunami King. This person commands wealth to rival a kingdom and knows the location of countless hidden treasuries. Capture him and wring the locations from him — every last coin of that treasure belongs to the two of you.”

Liu Feng and Zhao Ba exchanged another glance, each trying to read something in the other’s expression.

“Very well,” Liu Feng said first. “We follow my lord’s direction.”

Zhao Ba clasped his fists. “Likewise — at my lord’s command.”

Mu Fengliu offered a thin smile. “I know what every one of you is thinking right now… the Tsunami King is dead, so who becomes the new leader? Who wouldn’t want that position?”

He turned back to look at the two men. “You also know — whoever stands beside me is the one who gets to hold that position securely.”

Zhao Ba bowed his head. “My lord is the finest candidate of all.”

Saying things one doesn’t mean is a skill every person is born with.

So Liu Feng hastily added: “There is no one else in this army with the standing to hold things together — I too wish to support my lord in becoming master of the Shanhai Army.”

Mu Fengliu said: “I have no interest in that seat. But I can help the two of you become joint kings.”

Both men’s expressions shifted at once.

Mu Fengliu continued: “Every commander here holds soldiers. Take the two of you alone — go up against the others individually, and neither of you can be certain of victory. But if you join forces, as the Tsunami King and the Mountain King once did, combining your armies, who could stand against you?”

Liu Feng and Zhao Ba looked at each other again. Mu Fengliu’s words had moved them both.

He was not wrong. Either of them, fighting alone, faced uncertain odds against the competition. But together, their victory was guaranteed — and with Mu Fengliu’s counsel added to that, the odds exceeded certainty entirely.

“Tonight, come with me, kill that man, and claim untold wealth,” Mu Fengliu said. “With my assistance on top of that, the Shanhai Army falls into your hands.”

The two answered in unison: “As my lord commands!”

That night, Liu Feng and Zhao Ba quietly assembled their forces and began closing in around the mountain where Cao Lie was concealed.

In the mountains, Cao Lie stood on a boulder gazing up at the moon in a kind of reverie.

When he had spoken with Nie She earlier, he had seemed perfectly at ease — but inwardly he understood clearly that the opportunity he had so carefully arranged to kill Mu Fengliu had vanished the moment Nie She killed Mei Yan.

A man like Mu Fengliu would make his assessment instantly, and move just as quickly to counter it.

“Young master.”

One of Cao Lie’s trusted aides, a young man named Chang Juding, approached and lowered his voice. “Master Nie She has already departed ahead of schedule, as you instructed.”

Cao Lie gave a quiet acknowledgment. “Understood.”

“Young master,” Chang Juding said, “you should leave as well.”

Cao Lie shook his head. “I cannot leave. If I leave now, there will be no further opportunity to kill Mu Fengliu. He will vanish as if he never existed — that is precisely what he does best.”

He exhaled slowly, then smiled. “Though his life, compared to mine, is worth essentially nothing — I’ll let him have this small advantage for now. As long as I remain here, Mu Fengliu will come for me like a man possessed. He will never sleep soundly again unless he sees me dead.”

“His life weighs far less than mine, yet if killing him can lift the siege of Dragon’s Head Pass, then it’s a life for a life — and I come out even. My life weighs as much as the realm itself. Not a bad trade.”

Chang Juding said: “If you won’t leave, young master, we won’t be able to hold off Mu Fengliu’s men in a direct fight.”

Cao Lie smiled. “No need to try to talk me out of it. Every link in my plan has been thought through to its conclusion — so I know perfectly well which link matters most: me.” He paused. “Though Master Nie She’s unexpected killing of Mei Yan has forced us to improvise, it’s not all bad. There may even be a way to shatter the Shanhai Army in a single stroke.”

He turned to look down at the valley below. “Besides, it’s too late to run now. So much of what I know about strategy I learned from Mu Fengliu — which means he can absolutely deduce where I’d be hiding.”

Cao Lie looked down at the long blade hanging at his hip.

He had spent ten years training under Master Nie She with the blade, yet since that time had never once needed to draw it — because it was never necessary for him to draw it personally.

But tonight’s battle would finally give this peerless weapon the blood it had long been denied.

This blade had not been passed down through the ages. His father had sent men searching across the world for a full decade to find materials worthy of the craft, then spent another year having it forged for him alone.

The name Cao Lie had chosen for it himself: Jingzhe. Awakening of Insects.

When this blade is drawn, it can awaken all the immortals under heaven.

—