Yao Wuhen also felt he was a man of considerable contradictions. He truly loved the two characters of his name — “Wuhen,” meaning “traceless” — first because he felt they carried poetic depth and refined style, as though he were some reclusive sage who existed yet left no mark.

Second because the name suited an assassin’s identity so perfectly — killing without visibility, acting without leaving a trace.

The contradiction, however, lay in this: he aspired to become the world’s greatest assassin, and if he remained forever “traceless,” how was that dream ever to be realized?

He was not only an assassin with ideals but an assassin with a plan. The goal he had set for himself when he first entered the world of the jianghu was to earn money. Receiving payment was tantamount to signing a contract — whether a large sum or a small one, money came first.

Once he had earned enough money, his reputation would presumably have grown somewhat as well, and at that point it would be time to do something earth-shaking.

Such as killing people others dared not kill.

Now, looking up at the high walls and grand courtyard of Prince Yu’s Residence, Yao Wuhen felt a genuine surge of impulse — what if he simply charged in, cut down everyone in his path without a single person able to stop him, and walked back out? His reputation on the jianghu would surely explode overnight.

But this impulse was ultimately suppressed by his reason. This was Prince Yu’s Residence — it must be full of skilled fighters.

It was not that he doubted his own ability against those fighters; it was that he felt charging in would mean going in without coming back out. And for a job worth two hundred taels, that wasn’t worth it.

In Yao Wuhen’s mind, every person and every matter had a price. Whether it was worth risking one’s life to kill someone or accomplish something depended on the value.

So when the servants at Prince Yu’s Residence gate looked his way, he smiled pleasantly, asked them casually for directions, and then simply left.

In the reception hall of Prince Yu’s Residence, standing there in great tension, Changmei the Daoist dared only look at his own feet, his eyes not venturing to wander around the room. Hearing footsteps approaching, he pressed his bow even lower.

“About what I expected — it would be you.”

Prince Yu Yang Jixing looked at Changmei the Daoist and smiled, indicating the guest seat with a gesture. “No need to be so restrained — please, sit down and talk.”

“This humble commoner pays respects to Your Highness. I am better off standing to speak.”

Changmei performed his bow and then stood as before.

“As you wish — whatever makes you comfortable. Telling you to sit would only make you more uncomfortable.”

Prince Yu sat down, instructed tea to be brought, and then asked Changmei: “You just said at my gates that someone is trying to kill you — do you know who would be so brazen as to attempt such a thing in broad daylight?”

Changmei wanted to say it was likely people from the Jizhou yamen, but the words rose to his lips and he swallowed them back down. He bowed and answered: “It may be some jianghu ruffians. They likely covet money.”

Prince Yu nodded. “The city has been unsettled lately. Many jianghu vagrants have come in from outside the city walls. I will send word to Jizhou’s Prefect Lian to increase patrol presence.”

“Many thanks to Your Highness.”

Changmei bowed again.

“Last time…”

Prince Yu looked at Changmei and after a moment’s thought said: “You mentioned that I had a calamity of blood ahead, but you left it without conclusion.”

Changmei lifted his head, studied Prince Yu’s expression, then quickly lowered his eyes again and said: “This humble person was simply talking nonsense. Please forgive me, Your Highness.”

“Talking nonsense?”

Prince Yu’s brow furrowed slightly. After a pause he said: “I am by nature easygoing, and the only thing I dislike is when someone has something to say but doesn’t say it, or says it incompletely. This leaves me feeling very unsettled.”

Changmei’s heart gave a start. He thought carefully and chose his words, and after a moment bowed to say: “This humble person was indeed speaking loosely — Your Highness need not take it too seriously… I observed Your Highness’s face and noticed between your brows a faint vertical crease. I wonder if Your Highness has noticed it yourself. My guess is that this crease was not there before.”

Prince Yu gave a slight start, then turned and said: “Bring a bronze mirror.”

A servant hurried off and returned with a small bronze mirror. Prince Yu held it up and examined himself very carefully, and indeed he found a very faint vertical crease between his brows.

When a person knits their brows, the area between them will naturally form vertical folds — but those are not permanent creases.

“What does it mean?”

Prince Yu asked Changmei.

Changmei answered with careful deliberateness: “It may mean that in the future, Your Highness will face a great choice — a choice that will affect the second half of Your Highness’s life.”

Prince Yu asked: “Can you, Daoist, see what sort of choice that will be?”

Changmei shook his head. “This humble person cannot see it. However, if it were merely some everyday trivial choice, this type of change in one’s face would surely not appear — it must be a matter of great weight.”

Prince Yu nodded and asked: “In the Daoist’s view, if I do truly face such a weighty choice, how ought I to choose?”

Changmei answered: “This humble person is mud, and Your Highness is a cloud. Mud can see the cloud, but cannot penetrate the mysteries of heaven. Therefore, what great choice Your Highness will face, I cannot see. I have only one phrase that may be of some small use to Your Highness: at times — letting go of attachment, being willing to release — will serve Your Highness’s future better.”

Prince Yu suddenly recalled that this Daoist had once said that if he were to speak ill tidings, he could go on for a full day and night. Thinking on it now, this Daoist’s words were all rather ambiguous and had no real practical meaning, and so he smiled and let the words pass without much weight.

He nodded: “I’ll keep your words in mind.”

Then he rose: “Have your meal here in my residence before you go. I will arrange for someone to escort you to wherever you need to go — with people from the prince’s residence accompanying you, ordinary ruffians won’t dare trouble you again. I have an important matter to attend to at the Military Governor’s office, so I must excuse myself.”

He smiled at Changmei, then turned and walked out. With the host gone, Changmei felt it would be inappropriate to remain, so he followed along as well. Prince Yu, seeing this, understood that Changmei felt awkward about imposing, and so instructed a servant to arrange a carriage to take Changmei back.

Changmei thought it over — where could he go, really? Only the Four Pages Academy.

A little over half an hour later, Prince Yu’s carriage came to a stop outside the Military Governor’s office. Military Governor Zeng Ling and his civil and military officials, along with Jizhou Prefect Lian Gongming and officials of all ranks from the Jizhou prefecture, were already gathered there — not, however, to receive Prince Yu.

“Your Highness.”

Zeng Ling bowed at the head, and all the officials followed in saluting.

“Where has my royal brother reached?”

Prince Yu asked.

Zeng Ling answered: “In response to Your Highness — approximately twenty li from Jizhou City, so he will arrive shortly.”

Prince Yu thought for a moment and said: “Then perhaps we ought to go and wait outside the city.”

Zeng Ling said: “At Your Highness’s command, this official dares not refuse.”

Prince Yu smiled, masking the touch of desolation and disappointment in his eyes.

Zeng Ling was a person who knew how to speak tactfully — saying “at Your Highness’s command, dares not refuse” was in fact covering for Prince Yu’s dignity. The person they were about to receive was Prince Yu’s elder brother — the one who had taken control of an entire garrison army from Prince Yu’s hands, and not just any garrison army either; it was the authority over all of the northern frontier’s military affairs. Could Prince Yu truly go out to receive him with genuine wholehearted sincerity?

A great procession of civil and military officials streamed out of Jizhou City. Summer had not yet passed; the heat was stifling. These people who in their usual lives would curse at the slightest exposure to sun dared not complain even a syllable.

For the person they awaited was not merely a prince, but a prince with real power — and those three added words made him weigh more than twice as heavily as Prince Yu.

This group waited at the city gate for a good while. Seeing a cavalry column approach, they thought that important personage had arrived. Even Prince Yu prepared to step forward to receive him, his face arranged into a warm and amiable smile — but they found that the arrival was not his royal brother, but the Youzhou General Luo Geng.

Luo Geng was startled by the scene. With his rank, how could he possibly accept a prince and a Military Governor coming out to receive him?

He knew perfectly well they were not receiving him, yet arriving at precisely this moment put him in an extremely awkward position. So while still a great distance from the city gate, Luo Geng ordered all his men to dismount and stand to one side, while he himself jogged toward the city gate.

The state of Dachu at present was such that petty men held sway, and Luo Geng was genuinely fearful. No small number of officials had filed accusations against him at court, but those accusations were a minor matter compared to the need for him to hold the northern frontier. However, today’s situation — which on the surface seemed an even smaller matter — if someone were to submit a memorial accusing him of it, it could potentially bring about the destruction of his entire clan.

This was no exaggeration. With his rank, if he had ridden up naturally on horseback and only dismounted at the city gate, others would naturally say he had, of course, accepted the reception of a prince and a Military Governor as a matter of course. Word of that, relayed to the Emperor, and the Emperor would issue the edict to wipe out Luo Geng’s entire family without a moment’s hesitation.

Fortunately Luo Geng’s bearing was humble enough, and he hadn’t had to wait long before the grand procession of garrison troops came rolling in from behind, the flag of the Left Martial Guard billowing in the wind like a sweep of cloud, and those sharp, battle-hardened garrison soldiers like celestial soldiers and heavenly generals within the cloud.

At their head was Dachu’s Prince Wu, Yang Jiju — holding the title of Prince from birth, commanding the Left Martial Guard’s position of Grand General, and arriving now under imperial edict to take full responsibility for quelling the rebellions across all the northern circuits’ military affairs, wielding the power of life and death.

Originally this honor had belonged to Prince Yu, Yang Jixing — but because of a single word from Grand Eunuch Liu Chongxin, the reigning Emperor had changed his selection.

The names of these princes had all originally been two characters: Yang Jixing’s original name had been Yang Xing, and Yang Jiju’s original name had been Yang Ju. When the current Emperor Yang Sheng ascended and proclaimed himself Emperor, he issued an edict adding the character “Ji” — meaning “trace” or “mark” — to the names of all his brothers, the implication being roughly: whatever you do, it shall not escape Our awareness.

And so all these princes had names that sounded slightly awkward.

“Royal brother!”

Yang Jixing stepped quickly forward.

Yang Jiju also leaped from his horse and, stepping up to take Yang Jixing’s hands in both of his, laughed heartily: “Third brother — it truly has been too long.”

The two men, whether in sincerity or performance, displayed a warmth and closeness that was striking, while Yang Jiju said nothing at all to Military Governor Zeng Ling and the others — leaving the assembled civil and military officials feeling rather awkward.

“Oh, right — the Emperor has an imperial edict.”

Yang Jiju suddenly interjected.

Zeng Ling and the others immediately bowed. “Your servants receive the edict.”

Yang Jiju looked around and said: “Has General Luo Geng of Youzhou arrived?”

Luo Geng stepped forward and bowed. “This officer is present.”

This made Zeng Ling and the others feel even more awkward.

Yang Jiju looked at Luo Geng and said: “The Emperor knows of your hardships. The northern frontier has seen much warfare; you have held Youzhou for more than a decade, resisting the enemy without and pacifying the people within. The Emperor wishes you to know — your merits are known to him.”

He stood straight and said: “Luo Geng, receive the edict.”

Luo Geng immediately dropped to one knee. “Your servant Luo Geng respectfully greets the Emperor.”

Yang Jiju unrolled the imperial edict and read: “Youzhou General Luo Geng — distinguished in military merit, loyal and valiant — able to awe the border peoples without, and comfort the common folk within. As special commendation: military rank elevated to full third-rank Grand General, service rank advanced to Pillar of the State, noble title elevated to Marquis of the Pacified North. All frontier troops of the northern border shall be placed under his command and direction.”

Yang Jiju handed the edict to Luo Geng with a smile. “General Luo — congratulations.”

Luo Geng knelt and kowtowed repeatedly. In his heart, he felt a lingering chill of fear. Before coming, his subordinates had all urged him not to make the journey — Prince Wu Yang Jiju had just arrived and would surely make an example of someone from the start, and Luo Geng’s reputation had never been particularly good; it was not impossible that Yang Jiju would cut him down first.

Moreover, cutting him down would bring all the northern frontier troops under Yang Jiju’s command — which was why the people of Youzhou were so frightened.

And besides, Luo Geng had never once cultivated any goodwill with Grand Eunuch Liu Chongxin; heaven alone knew whether Liu Chongxin harbored resentment toward him.

If not for having encountered Li Diudiu on the road, Luo Geng might have turned back before reaching Jizhou. The more he thought about it the more apprehensive he had grown, the more apprehensive the more he dared not come.

It was only because of Li Diudiu’s remark about “Grand General” that he felt it was worth the risk.

Now Luo Geng’s heart was blooming with joy, thinking: that youth really did have something about him — I gave him too small a reward.

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