The Tiancheng dynasty was remarkably tolerant toward the development of martial arts in the jianghu world — there were even hints that it quietly supported them — though no one remembered anymore precisely why. Under this tradition, however, many remarkable schools and organizations had taken root and flourished.

Among them was the An Dao Academy.

The An Dao Academy — whose name meant, literally, the Academy that Brings Peace to the World’s Way — had trained its warriors in authentic and orthodox martial arts traditions. Not only were their practitioners highly skilled, but they were also bound by a code of righteousness.

The founder of the An Dao Academy bore the surname Xie. As for the given name — no one any longer remembered what it was. All subsequent leaders of the Academy inherited this surname, as an expression of reverence toward the founding ancestor.

Within the An Dao Academy, there were only two classes of people: the Academy Head, and the Academy Members. Upon completing their training and leaving the Academy, members were required to choose their own worthy master and swear an oath of loyalty — after which they were never permitted to return to the Academy for the rest of their lives.

And so the An Dao Academy’s members were known far and wide for their loyalty and integrity. Regardless of whether the master they served was rich or poor, living or dead, they devoted themselves to a single master for their entire lives, and many of them never left their master’s side until death.

Within this An Dao Academy, two legends were forever passed down.

The first was a fine example. It told of the youngest orphan child of a martial arts family ever to enter the Academy — and how, through sheer natural talent and relentless effort, this person became the youngest Academy Member ever to complete training in the Academy’s history. Not only did this person go on to choose a master of the most elevated rank, but they also inherited the Academy Head’s personal swordsmanship — a truly transcendent ascent to the heights of life.

The second, naturally, was a bad example. It told of the illegitimate daughter of a notorious river bandit and a wealthy merchant’s daughter — how this wild and insolent girl was sent into the Academy; how after entering she was lazy and troublesome day after day; how, despite having long since reached the standard for completion, she stubbornly refused to leave; how she pestered the Academy Head to teach her swordsmanship; and how she was ultimately forcibly assigned as a maidservant to a declining household of only five people — truly a plummet from the clouds straight into the mud.

Xiao Nanhui knew nothing of these legends. At this moment, she simply felt a certain sense of injustice.

The way she saw it, that old man Xie Li was entirely capable of being a snob. He had sent the most loyal and formidable member straight to the Son of Heaven, and then foisted a damaged defective on her.

Watching Ding Weixiang — arguing heatedly, his face red as he refused to give ground — and then thinking of her own ill-tempered, turncoat great dolt Bolao, she felt deeply aggrieved.

“Master, ever since your servant followed you, he has never been away from you for so long. Moreover, this is a time of great peril. Never mind how many of the Bai Shi’s people may be waiting in the shadows to make a move — even stray blades are truly dangerous, and how could your servant possibly allow you to remain here alone —”

Ding Weixiang had been at it for roughly a quarter of an hour. In truth, he could have gone on for another hour or two and Xiao Nanhui would have cared very little.

But when the Emperor had also kept her in the tent to listen in on the side — that was quite a different matter.

Why on earth had she waded into this murky pond? If she had known, she might not have left Bijiang at all. Life in that village of hers had been truly comfortable, and even that lecherous brute A’Kuang seemed, looking back now, less bothersome than she had thought.

Ding Weixiang seemed to have been going on at great length when he was abruptly cut off by the Emperor, who had remained completely silent until now.

“Who said we would be alone?”

Having said this, Su Wei’s gaze settled on the woman standing behind Ding Weixiang.

Xiao Nanhui had barely slept at all the night before, and standing there she was half-dozing. She heard all the voices around her — one speaking, then another — suddenly fall silent, and then a stretch of quiet.

She spent a moment bringing her wandering consciousness back from outside the tent, and then made an effort to pry open her heavy eyelids and finally focus her gaze on the Emperor.

That last sentence just now — it seemed he had said it? Was this exchange finally coming to an end?

She stood at attention and expressed her loyalty with full effort: “Does Your Majesty have instructions? Your subject is willing to lay down her life.”

Heh — flattery was something she could manage too. Besides, going to poke the enemy’s nest and blow up the dam was not going to fall on her head. What other trouble could there possibly be —

“Excellent. From this moment on, we command you to attend our imperial person, never to leave our side by so much as half a step.”

When those words fell on Ding Weixiang’s ears, it was like a mountain collapsing, and Xiao Nanhui felt she could practically see the word “collapse” written in his pupils.

Of course, she herself was probably not much better off — her eyes were full of shock and bewilderment.

Keeping the Emperor company for a single night had already left her unable to sleep — if this went on indefinitely, would she not die young?

Absolutely not! Under no circumstances whatsoever!

“Your subject — your subject frankly acknowledges that her martial arts cannot compare to Lord Ding Zhongwei’s, and she is also somewhat careless and inattentive by nature. She fears she would be found wanting. Is that not so, Lord Ding Zhongwei?”

Xiao Nanhui finished speaking and blinked frantically at Ding Weixiang, hinting for him to cooperate. Ding Weixiang thought this was extremely idiotic, but chose to play along anyway: “Lord Xiao speaks well. Guarding duties may seem simple, but in truth they require attention to a great many details — and are unlikely to be performed with true competence in a single day.”

“We are in no hurry for a single day.” Su Wei’s words fell with an unhurried ease, as though he were simply making idle conversation with a subject. “They say there is nothing in the world that cannot be done, only people who are not willing enough. One wonders whether Lord Xiao can be such a willing person.”

Those words carried a weight and a significance that were most unusual. Xiao Nanhui felt the muscles in her calves beginning to twitch faintly.

“Your Majesty’s person is of supreme worth — your subject fears she cannot bear the weight of such responsibility.”

“Does our subject find herself unable — or unwilling?”

Now it wasn’t just her calves — her stomach was cramping too.

The sight of that expression of sheer dismay on her face, in Ding Weixiang’s eyes, must have looked like ten thousand kinds of unwillingness — and his gaze came flying at her head like a blade.

“Lord Xiao, so you are unwilling? Guarding the imperial presence is a sacred duty. If you lack even this degree of awareness, what sort of Tiancheng soldier are you? You might as well take off your armor and go home to farm.”

Before Xiao Nanhui could even open her mouth in protest at being caught by that stray blow, the other launched another volley: “Or is Lord Xiao admitting she is not skilled enough for the task? I thought someone trained by the Qinghuai Marquis would be formidable — but in the end, it seems she is just a cowardly tortoise after all.”

When things had come to this point, Xiao Nanhui’s eyes were shooting fire as well.

A tortoise? Who was a tortoise? Who was he calling a tortoise?!

Say anything else and she would let it pass — but not a word against Xiao Zhun!

“When have I ever spoken of shirking? It is Lord Ding Zhongwei who is acting so passionately aggrieved — exactly like a dog that has had its food bowl snatched away.”

“You —!” Ding Weixiang was furious, and seemed on the verge of drawing his blade on her right then and there.

Xiao Nanhui was not in the least afraid, and was thinking that if he drew his blade before the Emperor, she could pull out the Pingxian bow and fight three hundred rounds with him — only to suddenly remember: she had left the Pingxian bow in Mo Chunhua’s tent.

She could almost feel her fighting spirit collapse in an instant, and she seemed to shrink a full head shorter. Thinking of the one person in this tent who could hold the other in check, Xiao Nanhui turned an earnest gaze toward Su Wei.

“Every word your subject just said came from the bottom of her heart — your subject entreats Your Majesty to render a clear judgment.”

“Come closer.”

Su Wei beckoned to her gently, and his face actually showed something like a smile — as if he were calling over a tame little dog.

Xiao Nanhui moved a few reluctant steps forward.

“Your left hand.”

She raised it with some hesitation.

The Emperor slowly turned his palm over. Sitting there — she didn’t know when it had appeared — was a jet-black ring.

Before she could react, she felt a coolness at her wrist.

She looked down. It was a smooth ring of jade-like material, yet it was nothing like the warm, mellow texture of ordinary jade — it was cold enough to make one shiver. There was one sharp protrusion on the ring, on whose keen edge was engraved a strange and unfamiliar symbol.

She couldn’t tell how the ring had been fastened to her wrist — looking at it from all sides, she could find no sign of any clasp or opening, and found it exceedingly curious.

“Since you have no command token, wear this instead. Only with this may you enter and exit our presence.”

At those words, she felt very much like a dog that had just been fitted with a collar.

She glanced at the now-dethroned “Dog Ding,” who had lost his favored position, suppressed the roaring discontent inside her, and very meekly bowed her head to become “Dog Xiao.”

Sometimes, the words of those in authority were not actually seeking anyone’s opinion — they were simply issuing commands. What use, after all, was her personal will?

“Your subject is willing to serve Your Majesty faithfully, and will devote her full strength to protecting Your Majesty’s safety.”

* * *

Ding Weixiang was angry.

That was not the least bit surprising. Back during the Huozhou trip, he had been in a constant state of sulky contrariness.

But this time, it seemed to be somewhat more serious than before.

Xiao Nanhui was not the type to hold grudges. Many small quarrels and small scrapes she could forget in the blink of an eye. Ding Weixiang, however, was clearly not that kind of person.

From half an hour ago, when they walked out of the main tent, he had barely said a word to her.

Under ordinary circumstances, she would not have cared in the slightest. But now she still had to carry out the task Su Wei had given her — drawing a detailed map of Bijiang’s interior terrain and hidden routes for Ding Weixiang to examine, with many specifics to explain clearly.

But the other sat stone-faced from beginning to end, showing not the slightest reaction to her “wholehearted sharing of knowledge.” It was as though she were the one rushing to work with him, and she felt thoroughly obstructed, a ball of fire smoldering in her chest.

When she had finally finished explaining the last route, Xiao Nanhui tossed the charcoal pencil aside and slanted a look at the man.

“Lord Ding Zhongwei, so quiet like this — can it be you’ve come down with the same ailment as my maidservant?”

Ding Weixiang raised his eyelids and looked at her. He said nothing, but his face clearly spelled out: What ailment?

She could read him perfectly, and smiled: “A small-minded ailment.”

The flame in Ding Weixiang’s eyes shot up, and he snatched the freshly drawn map from the table, turned his back to her with a charcoal pencil in hand, and began tracing out something on it — what, she couldn’t tell.

Xiao Nanhui watched his prickly posture and rolled her eyes in a grand arc. “If you won’t talk, then don’t talk. Just don’t come looking for me if you have questions later.”

The other still made no move, as though he had firmly decided not to speak.

Under ordinary circumstances, she would have turned and left long since. No matter if you were a captain of the Wild Goose Wing Camp or a favored man before the Emperor’s eyes — she would not have bothered with you. Back in the day, when Xu Shu had used his rank to push her around and she had had her leg broken, she still hadn’t lowered her head.

But now, lowering her head or not was not even the question.

The mission to destroy the dam was closely tied to the Subei Army’s advance westward. If it failed, it was hard to say it would not create obstacles for Xiao Zhun.

He had once lost at Sanmu Pass. How could she allow him to lose a second time?

For that alone, she could not let Ding Weixiang feel out of sorts.

Once she had worked this out in her mind, she moved closer again with patient persistence, and said in a thick-skinned tone of conciliation: “To be honest — I’m not entirely unaware of what you’re worried about.”

Ding Weixiang still didn’t even lift his eyelids. The charcoal pencil in his hand flew quickly, tracing out some route or other.

Xiao Nanhui clicked her tongue and spoke again: “You’ve said it yourself — it will be no more than three days. Counting the margin for what you’ll need to do there, the round trip might be seven or eight days at most. That’s barely the blink of an eye — there’s no need to worry so much.”

As she talked, the words began to flow more easily, and whether or not the other responded, she continued: “Besides, you’ve seen my abilities yourself, back in Huozhou. Can it be you trust me that little? And if you don’t trust me, you should trust the Black-Feather Camp people. And if you don’t trust the Black-Feather Camp, you should at least trust your own Emperor. His Majesty is no fool — if he’s sending you, he’s clearly already thought through every possible scenario. He’s not worried, so what are you worried about?”

When she got to the Emperor, a thought suddenly flickered through her mind.

Perhaps the one who needed to untie the knot was the one who had tied it — and that person was the Emperor himself.

As far as she knew, Tiancheng had been founded by military men, and every generation of rulers had been skilled in archery on horseback. The late Emperor Su Yin had even been a master of martial arts. What was unknown was why he had, for some reason, passed the throne to a prince who had never trained in martial arts.

The current Emperor of Tiancheng was one of the rare ones who had mastered the literary arts but not the martial — and while he had considerable skill at managing people and governing a country, he was someone who rarely even mounted a horse. Xiao Nanhui puzzled over it: why on earth would such a fragile person insist on leading the troops personally? On a battlefield where blades fly and arrows rain, even ten Ding Weixiangs might not be enough to ensure complete safety.

She was mulling this over when the thought began to take clearer shape. To avoid seeming too abrupt, she decided to lay some groundwork for her suggestion first.

“Lord Ding Zhongwei — you should know Bolao, shouldn’t you?”

Ding Weixiang still didn’t speak, but from the eyebrow that rose involuntarily, she could already see the answer.

“She and you are both from the An Dao Academy — she was also a bodyguard my adoptive father legitimately brought in from the Academy. But from the moment I met her, she barely guarded me at all. Not only that — she hit me plenty of times, and disappeared for days on end without a trace. Yet look at me now — I’m still alive and kicking, aren’t I? Ha ha ha —”

Ding Weixiang was deaf to that laughter, and turned around to stare at her. The stare was enough to make her laughter go dry.

Xiao Nanhui let her smile fade, cleared her throat, and resolved to press a step further.

“I know what you people of the An Dao Academy are like — every one of you loyal and devoted. But sometimes, when that devotion goes too far, it’s not a good thing either. Look at it this way — your master is already grown, and he’s a man with no disability, and he’s developed perfectly well, so really he should have been learning some basic fighting and self-defense by now. There’s this principle that even the best security still has gaps — better to rely on others than on yourself — and if it ever came down to a matter of life and death, hanging by a thread, it might just mean —”

“What — what do you know?!”

Ding Weixiang finally spoke. His tone was seething with anger, as though he had just heard something utterly unconscionable and outrageous.

Xiao Nanhui was baffled: “I hadn’t even finished — what are you in such a rush about?”

“There’s nothing to finish! Absolutely not!”

Half a shouting match, and they’d come back to the same point.

She was furious and laughing at the same time: “Then you tell me — what exactly is ‘absolutely not’?”

“Absolutely not is absolutely not!”

Her good intentions had been taken for malice. She was livid too: “Do you think I want to take on this miserable job?! That’s the Emperor! If I’m teaching him martial arts and something goes wrong, I’m the one who gets punished! There’s no such thing as a completely foolproof plan in this world — even if the Black-Feather Camp’s people are worth ten men each, even if I’m unrivaled in martial arts, who can guarantee they’ll be within arm’s reach of him every single hour of every single day? This is a battlefield, moreover — and if something goes wrong in that one gap, whose master is the one who ends up dead?!”

The words were as penetrating as they were blunt, and frankly quite outrageous.

But Xiao Nanhui was past caring at this point, and had let it all out like a torrent.

Ding Weixiang fell silent again.

Xiao Nanhui, having said so much, felt her earlier anger drain away, and tiredly waved a hand.

Forget it, forget it. She would just treat it as though she had been foolishly sentimental.

Life and death were fated, wealth and fortune lay with Heaven. Whatever would be, would be.

But just as her foot was about to cross out of the tent, the person behind her finally spoke.

“What you said — it is not entirely without merit.”

Xiao Nanhui stopped. She turned back and waited for the next sentence.

“But before we begin, there is something I must impress upon you.”