The matter of the Lantern Festival had been handed over to the Young Marquis Cao Lie, so Li Chi had little to worry about. The significance of the Lantern Festival lay in showing everyone just how prosperous Yuzhou was under Prince Ning’s governance.

There are times when the power of propaganda is no less than a great victory on the battlefield.

Yet nothing has only one side to it. This lantern gathering would inevitably draw countless common folk — and with them, spies from the enemy’s side.

It might not be spies alone. They would seize this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to slip into Yuzhou, looking for a chance to assassinate Prince Ning.

In an age like this one, the number of assassination attempts faced by leaders on all sides far exceeded the number of battles fought on the field.

The common people might never imagine how many dangerous things were unfolding in places they couldn’t see.

It must be said that the Tingwei Corps and the Intelligence Guard under Prince Ning’s banner had spent no small effort devising their own schemes to assassinate enemy leaders.

This was because assassination, no matter how brutal, remained the lowest-cost path to victory.

For someone like Prince Ning, Li Chi — once he fell to an assassin’s blade, the Ning Army, which appeared as solid as bedrock, would collapse in an instant.

So when it came to the Lantern Festival, the busiest people were not Cao Lie’s men, but those of the Tingwei Court and the Intelligence Guard.

They had to eliminate danger before it arrived, and snuff out assassins before they could strike.

There would still be those who couldn’t understand: if it was so dangerous, why did Prince Ning need to show his face at all?

Such people, in the end, were simply part of the common masses.

After these past few months, the news that Qingzhou and Jingzhou had come under Prince Ning’s rule should have spread quite far and wide. At the very least, the great figures and powerful families of Jingzhou were already aware of it.

So those placing their bets had no choice but to adjust their positions ahead of time, sending people by every means possible to make contact with Li Chi — and if they couldn’t reach Li Chi himself, then to reach whoever served beneath him.

Many people were already regretting it — how had they failed to see, back then, that this fellow of impoverished origins would end up controlling half the realm?

That half the world had suddenly become Prince Ning’s was a shock beyond imagination.

And it was precisely at this moment that something equally unexpected was unfolding in Daxing.

Envoys from several rival factions had, in this colder-than-usual winter, met with one another in Daxing.

Representing the imperial court, the Grand General under Prince Wu’s command, Zhang He, sat facing the men before him, his expression unpleasant throughout.

He was a garrison general, Prince Wu’s most trusted subordinate. After his elder brother Zhang Yi had died in battle, he had been hailed as the second spear of the army — in the ranking of spear-users, second only to Prince Wu himself.

To have been forced to march the army back to Daxing was an unprecedented disgrace for the Left Martial Guard.

And now, seated directly across from him was the envoy of Li Xionghu — the great bandit that Prince Wu had been fighting for two full years.

Moreover, this person — contemptible and shameless in Zhang He’s eyes — actually had the audacity to sit before him with his nose in the air.

“If the court wants a ceasefire, if it wants to deal with Prince Ning Li Chi, then it must demonstrate sincerity.”

The speaker was one of Li Xionghu’s chief advisors, known by the nickname “Iron Abacus.”

This man, who wore a goatee and a brocade robe that somehow looked as though it had been stolen, held a surprisingly prominent position within the Li Family Army.

The clothing itself was exquisite — fine fabric, careful tailoring — yet somehow, on him, it still looked utterly rustic.

His name was Guan Lianxing. He had once been a wanderer through the jianghu, making his living as a fortune teller — and a swindler.

In a way, what he did was similar to what Li Chi’s master, Changmei the Daoren, used to do — yet the difference between them was vast.

One of the lessons Changmei the Daoren had taught Li Chi was that all things must have their measure.

Changmei the Daoren never deceived the poor and destitute. Even when he did deceive the wealthy, he never took without restraint.

But Guan Lianxing — if he set his eyes on something belonging to someone else, whether riches or even women, there was no method he wouldn’t stoop to.

After Li Xionghu’s name had grown great, Guan Lianxing had gone to join him, becoming one of his older, more established followers.

Though ugly in appearance and unsavory in bearing, his mind was genuinely sharp — exceptionally clever and full of cunning stratagems.

In Li Xionghu’s campaigns, he had contributed no small number of plans, and for his enormous contributions, Li Xionghu had enfeoffed him as a Marquis of Ten Thousand Households.

After finishing his words, he turned to Zhang He: “The court wants to deal with Prince Ning Li Chi, which is why it has thought to gather everyone together — but General Zhang, that lofty manner of yours is making me very uncomfortable.”

Seated on the other side was Shi Fenghui — one of Yang Xuanji’s four great warrior-generals, a Grand General of equal renown to An Nuan.

Shi Fenghui had originally been a garrison general of Dachu, bought over by Yang Xuanji with lavish gifts, and had defected with twelve thousand troops under his command.

In the campaigns that followed, his military record had been outstanding, earning him a position of great prestige within the Army of Heaven’s Mandate.

Though he too had come to negotiate with the court as a representative of the King of Heaven’s Mandate, and ought in principle to be pressing the court together with Li Xionghu’s people, he equally could not bring himself to regard Guan Lianxing with any respect. If anything, he felt a certain sense of shared grievance with Zhang He.

At the root of it, whether he himself and the King of Heaven’s Mandate Yang Xuanji he represented, or the imperial court represented by Zhang He — all of them were aristocratic forces.

In their eyes, Li Xionghu’s people were a mob of peasants — a commoner force scraped together from the mud, and they looked down on them from the bottom of their hearts.

Not that looking down on them did much good, because Li Xionghu’s power was very real.

Zhang He let out a slow breath, willing his tone to be less icy.

He knew that Guan Lianxing held a position of critical importance under Li Xionghu. The man also had a cousin called Guan Liantang, who wielded a horse-chopping saber with the valor of ten thousand men.

These two — one an advisor, the other a warrior — could be seen as Li Xionghu’s left and right arms.

Zhang He asked: “Then you tell us — what does the bandit Li… what does the First Leader actually want?”

Li Xionghu had proclaimed himself the Overlord of Jiangdong, holding a prestige without equal across the several provinces of Jiangdong, yet Zhang He refused to address a great bandit as Overlord.

That said, in Yuezhou — where Li Xionghu had first raised his banner — the common people more often called him the Roaming King.

Guan Lianxing said: “The Overlord’s terms are simple. First, the court must acknowledge the Overlord’s status as equal to that of the Chu Emperor. Second, in exchange for the Overlord temporarily withdrawing his forces, the court must annually present ten million taels of silver, one million shi of grain, one hundred thousand bolts of cotton cloth, and ten thousand bolts of fine silk.”

Zhang He’s eyes narrowed immediately, killing intent gradually surfacing in his gaze.

Before he could speak, Shi Fenghui — who had come representing Yang Xuanji — let out a cold laugh. “Go back and tell Li Xionghu to sell his backside. Given his fame these days, he might just earn ten million taels from that.”

Guan Lianxing flew into a rage: “Do you think that in this Daxing, we cannot kill you?”

Shi Fenghui replied: “Do you think that in this room, I cannot kill you?”

The atmosphere turned frigid in an instant. The three men sat in silence, as though the very next breath might be enough to make them lose control and come to blows.

“That’s enough, all of you.”

In the end, it was Zhang He who spoke: “The Overlord’s demands are absurdly inflated — the court will not give you anything of the sort. Don’t even think about it. If you truly have any sincerity, stop testing us like this.”

Guan Lianxing said: “Since you think my terms are excessive, why not ask your other brother here what mandate he’s carrying from the King of Heaven’s Mandate.”

The word “brother” was delivered with such pointed mockery that both Zhang He and Shi Fenghui felt a flash of embarrassment.

Guan Lianxing scoffed: “You people who fancy yourselves so distinguished — you think your noble birth makes such camaraderie natural and right. But in truth…”

He pointed at Shi Fenghui: “To the court of Dachu, he is far more hateful than I am. I rose in rebellion because I was driven to it by corrupt officials — he is a traitor who betrayed the court outright.”

“Speak to the matter at hand!”

Zhang He shot Guan Lianxing a glare, then turned to Shi Fenghui: “What conditions has the King of Heaven’s Mandate come to discuss with the court?”

For a moment, Zhang He didn’t know how to begin.

The King of Heaven’s Mandate Yang Xuanji’s terms were… for the Army of Heaven’s Mandate to withdraw, or to temporarily hold off from attacking Daxing, the Emperor of Dachu would need to abdicate and cede the throne to the King of Heaven’s Mandate.

He had just been mocking Guan Lianxing moments ago, and he knew that the instant he spoke Yang Xuanji’s demand aloud, that ugly wretch would seize upon it to torment him without mercy.

“I won’t say mine first.”

Shi Fenghui said: “Since what we’re here to discuss is how to counter Prince Ning Li Chi, then let us speak to that matter first.”

He turned to Guan Lianxing: “Your homeland is nearly being swept clean by Tang Pidi — from what I’ve heard, in the past three months Tang Pidi has led his army of hundreds of thousands and taken over sixty cities in Suzhou alone. You’re sitting here putting on a very bold front, but inside you’re already terrified, aren’t you?”

Guan Lianxing replied: “Your King of Heaven’s Mandate is better off, is he? Prince Ning Li Chi’s several tens of thousands of men drove into Jingzhou, and your King of Heaven’s Mandate’s Grand General Xie Xiu surrendered without even fighting. With Jingzhou fallen entirely into the hands of Prince Ning Li Chi, your King of Heaven’s Mandate can hardly find his way back to Shuzhou, can he?”

At these words, rather than escalating their quarrel, the three men suddenly fell silent.

They had all realized in the same moment that what they had been saying, while seeming to mock each other, had also been mocking themselves.

After a long pause, Guan Lianxing said: “The Overlord says — if we are to jointly attack Prince Ning Li Chi, the Emperor must acknowledge the Overlord as equal in rank to himself. If that is not agreed upon, there is nothing to discuss.”

Shi Fenghui said: “The King of Heaven’s Mandate’s meaning is that if Prince Wu’s army takes the lead, the Army of Heaven’s Mandate is willing to provide support.”

Zhang He was silent for a moment, then rose to his feet: “Return for now. I must go and seek Prince Wu’s instruction.”

In truth Prince Wu was not in Daxing. When he said he needed to consult Prince Wu, it was merely to prevent these men from learning that Prince Wu was absent.

If they found out, would they still cooperate with the court to attack Prince Ning Li Chi?

That very instant, they would shed their mutual hostility and become the closest of allies.

They would rush back to their respective camps, and before long, both armies would come crashing against Daxing.

Yet neither Yang Xuanji nor Li Xionghu could ever have guessed that at this very moment, Prince Wu had gone to Yuzhou.

Only Prince Wu would do something like this. Though he didn’t dare show himself under his true identity, he had to go himself — he wanted to see with his own eyes what this Ning Army was actually made of.

And the summit the court had convened was, in the end, nothing more than buying time for Prince Wu.

—

At that very same time, in Yuzhou, in the rear courtyard of a trading house.

Prince Wu sat in the courtyard, his expression calm. This was the Yuzhou he knew well — yet it was no longer the court’s Yuzhou.

He had an incomparable attachment to this great city, yet the crimson battle banners of the Ning Army atop the city walls told him, again and again, that this place had nothing to do with his family, the Yangs, anymore.

The Censor-in-Chief of Dachu, Hong Shirui, bowed before Prince Wu: “Your Highness, I shall go now.”

Prince Wu nodded, then looked to the personal guard beside him, Yang You: “Take a squad and escort Grand Official Hong to seek an audience with Prince Ning Li Chi. Remember — leave through the back gate, go to the inn first, then depart from the inn to Prince Ning’s residence.”

Yang You bowed: “As Your Highness commands.”

Hong Shirui asked: “Is there anything further Your Highness wishes to convey?”

Prince Wu shook his head: “What more is there for me to convey… The Emperor has already made such concessions. No amount of instruction can salvage Dachu’s dignity.”

Coming from anyone else, these words might have sounded like an insult to the Emperor Yang Jing. But coming from Prince Wu, they carried only helplessness and sorrow.

After a moment of silence, Prince Wu said: “Dividing rule at the river, with a northern and southern emperor… this is already the bottom line. Go, then. Do not… do not let the court lose its dignity further.”

“Yes.”

Hong Shirui bowed deeply: “Then I, your official… shall go now.”

—