Night.

Fengzhou City. An underground organization — the Roaming Dragon Society.

Bi Taisheng stood at the entrance, head tilted back to look at the night sky. That vague yet bone-deep fear crept through him like the darkness seeping into his body, impossible to control as it spread.

Two days ago, the Marvelous Hand Sword Gate had been wiped out. He could roughly guess at what had happened, and he wanted to run — but he didn’t dare simply flee. He had no way of knowing whether the Tingwei Army had their eyes on him already, and if he ran now, even if they hadn’t noticed him before, they would notice him.

But if he didn’t run, the Marvelous Hand Sword Gate was a living example of what came next.

In a turbulent age, men like him who walked the jianghu — they might look like free and commanding figures, but weren’t they just drifting with the current like everyone else?

And yet who could really see clearly which way the current was flowing?

People living in Jizhou naturally saw Prince Ning as the current, because he was all they knew — and they had seen firsthand what he offered.

For people in Yuzhou it was different. They could see both Prince Ning and the King of Heaven’s Destiny, and the King of Heaven’s Destiny looked far more like the inevitable tide.

Liangzhou, Jingzhou, Shuzhou, and other territories besides — taken together, their combined area already exceeded a quarter of Dachu’s entire domain.

Then there was the great bandit of the south, Li Xionghu, holding Yuezhou and Suzhou — the most prosperous lands in the realm.

Yang Xuanji carried the bloodline of the Dachu imperial house — by genealogy, uncle to the reigning emperor — his lineage unimpeachable, backed by the support of countless great families and powers.

On the surface, Prince Ning had Grand General Tang Pidi, who seemed to carry all before him. But many could see clearly that Prince Ning could not afford to lose.

In battles at the scale of several hundred thousand men, Yang Xuanji could lose once, twice, even three or four times — and recover. For Prince Ning, a single defeat would effectively remove him from the stage of this contest for the realm.

And at this very moment, who could say whether the great families behind Yang Xuanji were not making every effort to find a way to bring Tang Pidi down?

Prince Ning’s adversary was not merely one enemy army. It was the entire class of Dachu’s old aristocracy.

So many people would choose the King of Heaven’s Destiny, Yang Xuanji. By any comprehensive analysis, if the contest at this moment came down to only these two men, the odds for Prince Ning, Li Chi, were less than thirty percent.

Bi Taisheng was a man of the jianghu. But was life in the jianghu glorious?

The so-called glory was just an illusion in the eyes of common folk.

In a time of peace, if you truly wanted to rise above everyone else — men like him, who worked the underground, had only one path: become someone’s hunting hound.

In an age of chaos, men like him had only one shortcut still available to them: become someone’s hunting hound.

The second-in-command of the Roaming Dragon Society, Chang Juxing, walked to his side and let out a long breath. “Brother, shouldn’t we be going?”

Bi Taisheng gave a nod. “As things stand, the longer we wait the worse it gets. But I can’t make up my mind — where would we even go?”

Chang Juxing said, “Maybe we could go straight over to the King of Heaven’s Destiny. With six or seven hundred disciples, wouldn’t we be valued when we got there?”

“Six or seven hundred disciples…”

Bi Taisheng gave a bitter smile. “In Fengzhou’s underground you have six or seven hundred men and it looks like you command the wind and rain. Show up under Yang Xuanji, and those six or seven hundred are nothing. One charge on a battlefield and they’re all dead. And are you willing to go be cannon fodder?”

Chang Juxing paused, then let out another long sigh.

“But we have to go.”

Bi Taisheng said, “Look at the Marvelous Hand Sword Gate and you know what our end will be.”

Chang Juxing sighed. “Who could have imagined that with the Wang and Xie families’ strength, they’d fall this fast.”

“Tomorrow, gather all the disciples. Tell them we’re going around the front lines to Jingzhou — I have a contact there.”

Bi Taisheng said, “Once we’re in Jingzhou, if the King of Heaven’s Destiny does eventually prevail, at least we’ll have some credit to our name. Better than dying in battle.”

Chang Juxing was about to reply when knocking came from the front gate.

In the dead of night — who would be calling?

Knock knock knock… knock knock knock, knock knock knock knock…

The knocking was unhurried and rhythmic.

Chang Juxing gestured toward the gate, and a disciple quickly went over. From behind the door: “Who is it?”

The person outside answered, “The Bodhisattva Who Sends Sons.”

Everyone inside was momentarily baffled.

“Stop fooling around, get lost!”

Someone shouted back.

The person outside seemed to give a soft sigh — the voice barely audible — and said, “I’m sending you to be reborn to someone else as their son. You really think you’re in a position to refuse?”

Then came a flash of white.

A blade came precisely through the gap in the gate and split the door bar in one stroke. Then the person outside pushed through.

He wore a black outfit and stood at the entrance, right hand gripping a long saber, left hand clenched around someone’s ankle — dangling a man who had been stationed as a covert lookout outside.

Chang Juxing leaped from the steps — airborne, more than a yard off the ground, landing lightly in the courtyard — and fixed his gaze on the black-clad figure. “What faction are you from?!”

Hearing that question, the black-clad figure turned his head toward someone behind him. “Young Master — have we got a name yet?”

Cao Lie emerged from behind the young man, hands clasped behind his back, strolling forward. “Not yet. Do we need one?”

The young man gave a nod. “We should have a name imposing enough that people know just from hearing it not to mess with us.”

Cao Lie said, “I’ll think of one.”

He stopped at the entrance, utterly ignoring the many members of the Roaming Dragon Society filling the courtyard. He stood in thought for a moment, then asked, “How about calling it Can’t-Mess-With-Us?”

The young man stared at Cao Lie in silence for a long moment. Cao Lie shook his head with a resigned sigh. “I admit that was a little half-hearted.”

The young man pointed at Chang Juxing’s group. “Roaming Dragon Society has a decent name.”

Cao Lie shook his head. “Too common.”

The young man sighed. “Young Master, is it really more common than Can’t-Mess-With-Us?”

Chang Juxing had been ignored long enough that his fury had boiled over. He strode forward, snatched a long saber from one of his disciples, and leveled it at Cao Lie’s group. “Either walk back out through that gate, or die in here.”

The young man continued to ignore him. He turned his head sideways toward Cao Lie and said, “How about Sovereign Assembly?”

Cao Lie gave him a sideways look. “I brought you out of Yuzhou. Not to send me off to the other side.”

The young man let out a quick laugh, then asked, “But Young Master — are you the leader?”

Cao Lie said, “I’m obviously… not.”

He smiled. “Actually, thinking about it that way makes sense. Then Sovereign Assembly it is.”

He turned to look at Chang Juxing. “That answers your question. The Sovereign Assembly has come to call.”

Chang Juxing looked back at Bi Taisheng. Bi Taisheng said, “Prince Ning’s people… fight to the death!”

“Yes!”

His disciples drew their blades and came surging toward Cao Lie’s group.

Approximately two quarters of an hour later, the courtyard held forty or fifty lean men in black, faces covered, sabers in hand, standing at the ready. Kneeling in the courtyard were three or four hundred people, every one clutching their head, not daring to move.

Also in the courtyard lay over a hundred men who would never rise again.

The young man asked Cao Lie, “Young Master — does Sovereign Assembly sound like it belongs to Prince Ning?”

Cao Lie couldn’t be bothered to answer him.

The young man walked to where Chang Juxing knelt. “Are you the Roaming Dragon Society’s leader?”

Chang Juxing immediately shook his head — then his gaze slid toward Bi Taisheng, who was kneeling some distance away. He didn’t dare say it outright, but his eyes had already said it plainly enough.

“Ah. Not you.”

The young man reached behind him. Along his belt hung a row of throwing knives, each with an unusual feature — a small ring on the handle just large enough to fit a finger.

He extended his hand, his little finger slipping through one knife’s ring. The blade spun once in his hand — and in the next instant buried itself completely in Chang Juxing’s temple.

He walked on without even looking back. Chang Juxing’s body crumpled to the ground.

The young man walked to where Bi Taisheng knelt and crouched down. “You’re the leader?”

Bi Taisheng swallowed, face drained of color, and gave a nod. “I… I am.”

The young man said, “Then you’re Bi Taisheng?”

Bi Taisheng nodded again.

The young man gave a sound of acknowledgment, his tone perfectly mild: “My name is Cen Xiaoxiao — as in the ‘xiaoxiao’ of ‘a smile takes ten years off your life.’ But for the foreseeable future, my name is Bi Taisheng.”

Bi Taisheng’s head snapped up, eyes gone wide with horror.

Cen Xiaoxiao suddenly remembered something and turned back to look at Cao Lie. “Young Master, isn’t everyone on our team named rather casually?”

Cao Lie said, “Ask your father.”

Cen Xiaoxiao sighed. “Cen Xiaoxiao, Dong Dongdong, Qi Qiangqi… for all these carelessly named people to be gathered in one place — it must be fate.”

Cao Lie thought idly: if he followed the same pattern to rename himself — what would it be?

Cao Caocao?

Cen Xiaoxiao looked at Bi Taisheng and said, “I’m not particularly skilled at making threats. The training I’ve had covers how to kill people, so I can only roughly convey my meaning. We’ll skip the threatening part — you agree and you live a while longer, you don’t agree and you die right now.”

Cao Lie said, “You’re making a threat.”

Cen Xiaoxiao thought about it. He actually thought about it seriously, then gave a nod. “I suppose I am.”

He addressed Bi Taisheng: “Go write letters now. Send them separately to every faction you’ve been collaborating with — underground organizations, sects, merchant establishments — everyone you know who has been bought or recruited by Yang Xuanji. Write to all of them. Invite them to come to your place tomorrow night for a meeting on urgent business.”

Bi Taisheng instinctively shook his head. He didn’t dare.

“Hmm…”

Cen Xiaoxiao turned to Cao Lie. “Young Master, may I kill him?”

Cao Lie said, “You really aren’t good at making threats.”

He pointed at Bi Taisheng. “The two of you, come.”

Dong Dongdong and Qi Qiangqi stepped forward and walked up to Bi Taisheng. Dong Dongdong said to Cen Xiaoxiao, “Excuse me, if you’d step aside.”

Cen Xiaoxiao rose and moved away, then asked curiously, “Is your name really what your parents gave you? Were they good to you? Were you happy as a child?”

Dong Dongdong: “…”

Cen Xiaoxiao saw no answer forthcoming and turned to Qi Qiangqi, who — before Cen Xiaoxiao could even open his mouth — said earnestly, “Please close yours, and walk away.”

Cen Xiaoxiao sighed and went to stand beside Cao Lie. After a moment he smiled. “Young Master, I didn’t realize the Tingwei Army people could be so entertaining.”

Cao Lie said, “How did I not know you talked this much before?”

Cen Xiaoxiao thought about it, then sighed. “Because before I had to stay in the shadows. Before I wasn’t allowed to talk much. Before I had to look cold.”

He’d barely finished saying it when he saw Dong Dongdong reach into his robes and produce a small cloth pouch. Unfolded, it held several small gleaming objects.

In the next instant, he watched Dong Dongdong reach out and pinch Bi Taisheng’s eyelid — and in his other hand was a blade, tiny but unquestionably razor-sharp.

The blade was thin as a cicada’s wing, shaped like a willow leaf.

At the sight of this, Cen Xiaoxiao stopped smiling. After a moment he murmured to himself, “I see they’re not entertaining at all.”

But Dong Dongdong’s blade hadn’t even come down before Bi Taisheng broke. Otherwise he might genuinely have seen what Dong Dongdong had in mind — holding his eyelid aside to give him a look at what an eyelid looked like once it was no longer attached.

Before long, Dong Dongdong returned to stand before Cao Lie and bowed. “Young Master, the full list has been obtained. I can forge Bi Taisheng’s handwriting — give me two quarters of an hour. There are samples of his writing in the room to copy from. As for this man — kill him or keep him?”

Cao Lie shook his head. “Keep him for now.”

He looked at Cen Xiaoxiao. “Bi Taisheng — I’m talking to you.”

Cen Xiaoxiao sighed. “Honestly, the name Bi Taisheng is nowhere near as good as Cen Xiaoxiao.”

Then he looked at Dong Dongdong. “Better than yours, though.”

Dong Dongdong raised his gaze to the heavens.

—