“Liang Xingfu?”
“Buddha’s Enemy!”
Different names were called out by different people.
“When did you return to Jin—” Old Dragon Head’s shout was cut short midway. He had noticed that Liang Xingfu’s waist was also wrapped with a white cloth strip, half-stained with blood. Undoubtedly, he must have first gone to the abandoned temple at the Yang Family Grave, extracted their whereabouts, and then pursued them—as for how he got the information, the bloodstains on the cloth strip told everything.
One of the White Dragon Gang members could no longer contain himself. He untied the cloth strip from his waist and lunged at Liang Xingfu in fury. Liang Xingfu raised his right hand, and with just a gentle deflection, sent the man screaming as he tumbled down the inner side of the city wall. From such a height, it was surely fatal.
This was an exceptionally skilled wrestling technique. Liang Xingfu’s eyes barely registered any change, as if he had merely swatted away a fly. The other two men’s eyes blazed with fury as they moved to avenge their companion, but Old Dragon Head barked “Stop!” then asked through gritted teeth: “What do you want?”
“Hand over the Crown Prince to me.”
Liang Xingfu repeated, his gaze fixed on Zhu Zhanji, whom Old Dragon Head held. Upon hearing this, Old Dragon Head was startled, realizing he had completely misjudged the situation.
This young monk who had fled the city overnight was the Crown Prince of the Great Ming. This couldn’t be right. Rumors said the Crown Prince had perished in the treasure ship explosion at noon, and even if he hadn’t died, shouldn’t he be safely within the palace? Why was he disguised as a monk trying to escape? Why was he being hunted by Buddha’s Enemy? Countless questions flooded his mind. But Old Dragon Head promptly abandoned these thoughts. He released Zhu Zhanji’s neck and pushed him forward.
“Take him.”
The White Dragon Gang had survived in Jinling for so long precisely because Old Dragon Head knew when to bare his teeth and when to submit meekly.
Just as Zhu Zhanji felt his neck freed and before his muscles could relax, a large hand pressed down on his right shoulder. The force was tremendous, weighing down on half his body like Mount Flying Peak, aggravating his arrow wound until he couldn’t even lift his feet. Old Dragon Head’s face turned dark as water as he waved his hand: “Let’s go!”
One man hesitated: “But the white dragon…”
The cloth strip they had brought still had Yu Qian dangling from one end at the outer city wall, while the other end was tied to their waists. Old Dragon Head said with an iron-gray face: “Leave it!” His two subordinates dared not question further, quickly untying the cloth strips from their waists and following their leader, fleeing as if escaping from a plague god.
“Wait!” Wu Dingyan and Su Jingxi shouted together. But Old Dragon Head paid no attention. As soon as the two men untied their cloth strips, the white dragon, now free from tension, “whooshed” down from the city wall. They heard Yu Qian’s cry of alarm as he fell, followed by a “splash,” and then silence.
“Yu Qian!” Zhu Zhanji struggled violently forward, crying out hoarsely. In all of Nanjing, this was his one truly loyal minister, and now he had just… died? Before he could mourn, Liang Xingfu pulled him back, leaving him to tremble helplessly.
However, Liang Xingfu’s attention wasn’t on the Crown Prince at this moment, but on Wu Dingyan several steps away. Since his appearance, the latter’s eyes had been like those of a cat encountering a mad dog, every hair standing on end.
“I have already collected the Iron Lion’s remains, now it’s time to guide you.” After speaking, he raised his left hand and wiped his thumb across the bloody scar on his forehead.
Wu Dingyan’s eyebrows twitched, and suddenly he let out a low roar, charging forward like a madman. His speed was incredibly fast, almost leaving an afterimage on the city wall. But Liang Xingfu calmly blocked with his arm, and the iron ruler that could break shinbones was firmly caught by his thick forearm.
Wu Dingyan froze momentarily, then swung the iron ruler again in a rain of fierce strikes. Liang Xingfu, while pressing down Zhu Zhanji with his left hand and hastily dealing with Wu Dingyan’s strikes with his right, still had the leisure to say slowly: “I tracked you from Fule Court to here, which took quite some effort. Don’t disappoint me.”
The force behind the iron ruler suddenly increased as Wu Dingyan’s eyes turned red, but it still wasn’t enough to break through his opponent’s defense. As if not satisfied with the level of hatred, Liang Xingfu added: “Your sister Wu Yulu is currently under my altar’s protection. It seems I can repay the Wu family’s kindness all at once tonight.”
“Liang Xingfu! You ungrateful dog!”
Wu Dingyan shouted himself hoarse, but the iron ruler in his hands grew increasingly heavy, each swing causing his arms to ache unbearably. His long-term alcoholism had left him with poor stamina, and that earlier burst of attacks had nearly depleted all his strength, forcing him to kneel on one knee, gasping heavily. Liang Xingfu didn’t press his advantage, instead maintaining an unsatisfied expression:
“They say the Iron Lion’s son is useless, but it turns out he was secretly training you, was it to guard against me?”
“Pah!” Wu Dingyan raised the iron ruler once more, but this time Liang Xingfu merely deflected it lightly: “Unfortunately, your force is shallow and your core strength insufficient. Perhaps after another five years of training, you might have been able to fight me.”
“Die!”
“Why must you resist? All life is suffering, reaching pure land early wouldn’t waste my sincere devotion to your Wu family.”
As Liang Xingfu rambled on, Wu Dingyan’s anger had been overwhelmed by despair. The difference in their strength was too vast. Wu Dingyan’s grip on the ruler slowly loosened as he habitually began to bow his head in resignation. At that moment, his eardrums were suddenly pierced by a sharp cry: “Wu Dingyan, don’t forget your oath!”
Wu Dingyan jerked his head up, his eyes meeting those of the Crown Prince struggling under Liang Xingfu’s grip. The pain triggered by that face struck his head again, and this time, the intense pain drove away all dejection, reinvigorating Wu Dingyan’s spirit.
He noticed the Crown Prince’s eyes were wide open, his pupils quickly looking left then right. Strangely enough, Wu Dingyan immediately understood Zhu Zhanji’s intent. Without hesitation, he picked up the iron ruler and hurled it forcefully, shouting: “Big Radish!”
Liang Xingfu had assumed this was just a dying struggle, but after briefly judging its trajectory, he couldn’t help but utter a surprised “Oh.” The iron ruler wasn’t aimed at him, but directly at the Crown Prince’s forehead.
Although this strike might not be fatal, the Crown Prince was specifically requested by Ye He, and couldn’t suffer any harm. By now the iron ruler had covered most of the distance, and it was too late to deflect it with his right hand. Liang Xingfu had no choice but to briefly release the Crown Prince’s shoulder with his left hand to block the ruler.
Just as his thick fingers caught the iron ruler, the Crown Prince shouted shrilly: “Now!”
He quickly ducked down, grabbing one end of the blood-stained white dragon cloth strip from the ground. Simultaneously, Wu Dingyan also lunged forward, grabbing the other end of the white dragon strip. Like long-time battle companions, they rolled several times on the ground, both leaping toward the outside of the city wall.
This white dragon strip, which Liang Xingfu had seized from the White Dragon Gang member, was still tied around his waist in the middle. With Zhu Zhanji and Wu Dingyan making such a desperate pull, even Liang Xingfu couldn’t maintain his stance and stumbled toward the outside of the wall.
At this crucial moment, his eyes showed no fear or surprise, but rather excitement. If Liang Xingfu had used his leg strength at this moment, his power would have been enough to halt their fall, but he did not attempt to stop it. Instead, he spread his arms, allowing himself to slide out through the gap between two battlements.
In the milky moonlight, three figures traced through the night along the outer side of the towering city wall. The white strip danced and coiled between the figures in mid-air, like a graceful dragon. Three curves of different arcs stretched from the top of the wall to the vast surface of the Back Lake. With three “splash” sounds, water sprayed up, startling a group of night-dwelling water birds.
This northern section of the Nanjing Prefecture wall had its outer side directly connected to the south bank of Back Lake, with only about ten steps of shoreline between them. When Zhu Zhanji had earlier heard the splash of water after Yu Qian fell from the wall, he immediately realized that jumping from this height would land them in the lake.
Although the impact on the water surface would be unpleasant, it was better than being completely at the enemy’s mercy on the wall. He had thought of this solution in a flash of inspiration, and unexpectedly, Wu Dingyan had been so intuitive that they had managed to drag a formidable enemy into the water with them.
This was Zhu Zhanji’s third time entering water today. He laughed bitterly to himself while swimming with both arms and legs toward the nearest island. The arrow wound on his shoulder, which had stopped hurting after Su Jingxi’s treatment, began to ache again as the arrowhead embedded in his flesh was suddenly submerged in water.
There were five islets in Back Lake, named Liang Isle, Huang Isle, Xian Bo Isle, Long Yin Isle, and Zhi Isle. The closest to where the Crown Prince had fallen was Liang Isle. This was where Crown Prince Xiao Ming had compiled the “Selected Literature” in the past, known as the former site of Liang Garden. However, Zhu Zhanji had no time to consider these literary matters now. He quickly swam across the water’s surface, soon reaching the stone embankment of the isle, climbing up while panting heavily, and shaking off the water—fortunately, his head had been shaved, otherwise, it would have been even more miserable.
There weren’t many trees and plants on Liang Isle, and within sight were about a dozen rectangular large buildings. These buildings had wide windows and flat roofs, all oriented east to west. They didn’t look like residences, nor like ordinary warehouses. Before Zhu Zhanji could look more closely, he heard an excited “Your Highness?” nearby.
Though the voice was deliberately lowered, it was still somewhat louder than normal. Zhu Zhanji was also delighted: “Yu Qian?”
He turned to look and saw a figure emerging from beside a nearby platform. Yu Qian’s hair was completely disheveled, mixed with water weeds, and he was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of soaked underwear that even had several patches.
Yu Qian had been wearing a wide-sleeved court robe, which had become extremely heavy after absorbing water. To save his life, he had been forced to strip off his robes regardless of dignity, allowing him to barely survive. Seeing him in such a wild state, even though the situation was urgent, Zhu Zhanji couldn’t help but smile.
Yu Qian’s face reddened, but he didn’t shrink away in shame, anxiously asking: “Where are they?” Zhu Zhanji glanced at the lake’s surface: “Wu Dingyan and Liang Xingfu jumped down with me, Physician Su probably remained on the wall.”
Zhu Zhanji looked up at the city wall, which was now empty—Su Jingxi must have run away long ago. It made sense; unlike the other two, she had only joined the group to avenge Zhu Buhua. Now, seeing total defeat, there was no reason for her to jump down with them. He felt slightly disappointed, then scanned the water surface again, but saw no sign of Wu Dingyan or Liang Xingfu.
At this point, Yu Qian said to the Crown Prince: “Liang Xingfu isn’t dead. Let’s hide in the Yellow Register Archive ahead!”
The five islands in Back Lake had been strictly sealed off since the Hongwu years, specifically used to store the nationwide household yellow registers. These yellow registers recorded the population and livelihood details of hundreds of counties across the thirteen provinces of the northern and southern capitals, making them extremely numerous. The court had already built more than ten archival buildings on Liang Isle, barely managing to accommodate them all.
If they picked one to hide in, even if Liang Xingfu had a dog’s nose, he would need some time to search. Although this wouldn’t solve the fundamental problem, it would at least buy them some time.
Liang Isle stored all the registers, which were most vulnerable to fire, so fire was strictly prohibited on the island. The warehouse keepers responsible for daily maintenance would go to the nearby Long Yin Isle for meals and rest at night. So at this hour, Liang Isle was completely silent and empty. The two of them crouched and randomly selected an archive building to slip into.
The yellow register archives on Liang Isle were ordered according to the Thousand Character Classic, and this building had “Earth Character No. 3” written in white lime on its lintel. The wooden door wasn’t locked—inside were only yellow registers, and no one would be interested in these things—Yu Qian pushed open the door, and a slight musty paper smell wafted out. He quickly ushered the Crown Prince inside, then swiftly closed the door.
Although Zhu Zhanji had long known of the Back Lake Yellow Register Archive’s reputation, this was his first time seeing it in person. Before him was a bright, two-section open room, with ten rows of cypress wood shelves arranged neatly inside. Each row had sixteen floor-to-ceiling bookcases, each bookcase divided into eight levels, packed densely with yellow registers, all uniform thick paper volumes measuring one foot three inches long and one foot two inches wide. Standing in the passage between the shelves, one’s view would be filled with the vast sea of registers, as if they were pressing in from all directions, making it difficult to breathe.
Yu Qian dragged Zhu Zhanji deeper into the warehouse, their footsteps making soft shuffling sounds on the fine sand that covered the floor—a precaution against fire. They wound their way through massive, sturdy bookshelves, past layers upon layers of yellow registers, and finally crouched in a dead corner near a window. Unless Liang Xingfu walked into this particular section of the archive and turned to the very end of this row, he would never find them. Moreover, the fine sand on the floor would betray any intruder’s footsteps.
They crouched beneath the window as milky moonlight poured through the wide opening. Countless specks of dust danced between the ancient volumes, creating an atmosphere of profound tranquility. The oldest of these registers dated back to the fourteenth year of Hongwu, predating both Yu Qian and Zhu Zhanji.
“This Liang Xingfu… or should I say Bing Fodi, who exactly is he? How do you all know him?” Zhu Zhanji finally had the chance to ask.
Yu Qian awkwardly picked the waterweeds from his hair, keeping his voice low. “There’s probably no one in all of Jinling who doesn’t know that name. Though I’ve never met him personally, I’ve heard plenty from my colleagues.”
“No one knows where Liang Xingfu came from or what he did before. What we do know is that he first arrived in Nanjing in the winter of the eighteenth year of Yongle. He entered through the Jubao Gate, seemingly looking for someone. Somehow, he got into a violent confrontation with the gate guards. His skills were extraordinary—he single-handedly scattered the entire gate guard and held the position, destroying any reinforcements that came. Eventually, he simply fought his way upstream against the crowd, charging to the South City Military Command.”
Zhu Zhanji drew in a sharp breath. Such martial prowess seemed almost mythical, like Li Yuanba reborn: “No matter how formidable he was, he was still just one man. Was the entire garrison asleep?”
Yu Qian sighed: “The eighteenth year of Yongle, Your Highness—think about it. That was the crucial period of Emperor Taizong’s capital relocation. With both capitals in transition, every office was overwhelmed with its affairs. Who had time for this?” Zhu Zhanji nodded, seeing the logic, and gestured for Yu Qian to continue.
“The South City Military Command gathered over a hundred skilled fighters and even called in several squads of archers from the Imperial City. Only then did they manage to force Liang Xingfu to retreat. Tsk, quite embarrassing that it took so many to drive back just one man.” Yu Qian couldn’t help but comment. “This battle made him famous—the entire Southern Metropolitan Area knew of this madman who had brazenly charged into the South City Military Command and escaped unscathed. But at that time, no one knew this was just the beginning…”
Zhu Zhanji drew another sharp breath. Such arrogance and it was only the beginning? Even hearing this old tale made his palms sweat.
“After retreating from the South City Military Command, Liang Xingfu didn’t leave the city but vanished into the southern streets and alleys. The garrison conducted several searches, all fruitless. No one could figure out where he came from, what he was doing in Nanjing, or how he managed to hide. But from then on, the entire city of Nanjing fell into endless terror. He would strike at night, and someone would always suffer. Sometimes officials would be found dead in the streets, sometimes wealthy merchants’ shops would burn, sometimes pleasure boats on the Qinhuai River would mysteriously sink, and sometimes students from the Imperial Academy would be found hanging in front of the Jixian Gate. There were several instances where night patrol units were annihilated… He even destroyed the golden Buddha statues in the Great Gratitude Temple in a single night, earning him the nickname ‘Bing Fodi’ (Enemy of Buddha).”
Zhu Zhanji, familiar with Buddhist texts, knew that “Fodi” referred to Devadatta, the Buddha’s cousin. Devadatta was a notorious villain in Buddhist scripture who had once injured the Buddha’s toe with a stone, tried to poison his nails to scratch the Buddha’s feet, and even drove mad elephants to trample him. He was the only person in history to have made Shakyamuni bleed. The nickname “Bing Fodi” was indeed fitting.
“During that period, both civilians and officials lived in constant fear, barring their doors as soon as night fell. One man, Liang Xingfu, had thrown the entire city of Nanjing into panic. The Prefecture and the Five Military Commands were at their wit’s end. They deployed their elite forces, conducted endless investigations, and even offered bounties to the martial arts world. The court finally managed to track Liang Xingfu down and corner him on Mount Yecheng. Unfortunately, the powder magazine at Baichuan Bridge mysteriously exploded at that moment, startling all the troops and allowing the severely wounded Liang Xingfu to escape… No one knew where he went, but at least he hadn’t returned to Nanjing until today.”
Zhu Zhanji remained silent for a long while after hearing this, the sheer ferocity of the man palpable even through Yu Qian’s description. No wonder the old dragon head on the White Dragon sign recognized him and left without a word—who would want to face such a demon of death?
Yu Qian continued: “I heard that during the battle at Yecheng, a constable from the Prefecture took the lead and managed to slash Liang Xingfu’s face—the only injury he sustained during his entire rampage in Nanjing. Thinking back now, that constable must have been Wu Ping, Wu Dingyuan’s father.”
“Hmm…” Zhu Zhanji clicked his tongue. No wonder Wu Dingyuan had such a strange reaction when Liang Xingfu appeared—there was old enmity between them.
However, he had distinctly heard Wu Dingyuan shout “You ungrateful dog!” earlier, which was puzzling. Could there be more between Wu Ping and Liang Xingfu than simple enmity?
But this wasn’t the time for deep contemplation. Yu Qian suddenly hushed him. They remained still, straining their ears to listen carefully. In the distance, they could hear faint sounds—something between a groan and angry cursing, but unmistakably Wu Dingyuan’s voice.
They exchanged glances, their expressions grim. It seemed Wu Dingyuan had been unfortunate enough to be captured by Liang Xingfu. This villain, worthy of the name “Bing Fodi,” knew he couldn’t search all dozen archive buildings alone, so he was deliberately torturing Wu Dingyuan to draw out the Crown Prince.
It was an obvious trap—Liang Xingfu didn’t even try to disguise it.
What should they do?
The choice between the Crown Prince and a mere constable should have been obvious. They could easily escape from the rear lake while Liang Xingfu was occupied with torturing Wu Dingyuan. But Zhu Zhanji pressed his lips together, his fists clenching and unclenching. Yu Qian didn’t offer any advice about “considering the bigger picture,” his eyes fixed on the sandy ground.
The angry cursing from afar grew more intense. Zhu Zhanji suddenly stood up, slapping the bookshelf hard enough to raise a cloud of dust: “That man saved my life at the Fan Bone Platform yesterday. If I show such ingratitude to even a minor official, what will the history books say of me? We must save him!”
Yu Qian’s expression cleared with relief at these words: “Your Highness truly understands…” He had wanted to quote Mencius about choosing righteousness over life but thought it would be inauspicious and swallowed the first two words.
Zhu Zhanji carefully moved his head near the open window to look out, but unfortunately couldn’t see much from this angle. He could only tell that the sound was coming from about a hundred paces away near the lakeshore. Yu Qian had visited the rear lake once before and had an excellent memory. He crouched down and drew a rough layout of Liang Island in the sand. Wu Dingyuan was likely being tortured near the Lake God Temple—the only other building on the island besides the yellow register archives.
“We need to think of some plan…” Zhu Zhanji stared at the sandy ground. Saving someone was important, but they couldn’t just rush out to their deaths.
Their only—and greatest—obstacle was Liang Xingfu. Zhu Zhanji had barely crossed paths with him but knew that what made this man most terrifying wasn’t his fighting skills, but rather his unwavering calm indifference. Facing such an opponent felt like having a giant whale bearing down on you—nothing you did could change its trajectory.
Yu Qian also moved to the window, trying to get a better look. Suddenly there was a “pat” sound as something fell onto the sandy ground near his feet. Looking down, he saw it was the small incense burner they had taken from Wu Dingyuan’s house. When he had removed his wet official robes earlier, he had tied it to his belt, but now the rope had loosened, and the burner had fallen.
Yu Qian bent down to pick it up, but halfway through extending his arm, a thought flashed through his mind. Startled, he shook his head, trying to dispel this outrageous idea. This was too reckless—how could a court official even consider such a treasonous act? But the more he tried to suppress the thought, the more it took root in his mind, growing uncontrollably. By the time Yu Qian realized something was wrong, it had developed into a complete plan, and there seemed to be no other option.
After much hesitation, Yu Qian pinched the bridge of his nose and walked to the Crown Prince’s side: “Your subject has an idea, though I’m not sure if I should speak of it…”
While they were huddled together whispering, Liang Xingfu stood in front of the Lake God Temple, gazing at the dozen or so archive buildings. He knew the Crown Prince was hidden in one of them but showed no anxiety. His gaze lifted slightly, focusing on the moon palace hanging in the sky.
“My first encounter with your father was on a moonlit night just like this,” Liang Xingfu stood with his hands behind his back, speaking of Wu Ping as if he were a familiar friend.
Behind him, Wu Dingyuan was tied to a banner pole, steaming fresh blood flowing from his nose, across his jaw, and dripping onto the ground—a pitiful sight. Liang Xingfu knew every inch of human anatomy and knew exactly how to inflict maximum suffering.
“Go to hell! My father was blind to save a madman like you. He should have let you rot on Mount Yecheng!” Wu Dingyuan cursed weakly. Liang Xingfu turned back, his expression serious: “Iron Lion was the only person in Nanjing worthy of the Buddha Mother’s salvation. Naturally, I must sincerely repay your family.” He clasped his hands and began chanting sutras.
“If you’re going to kill me, just do it!” Wu Dingyuan shouted. This man might appear calm, but he was insane. Only a madman would be so entranced while killing your entire family and claim it was for your salvation. Liang Xingfu finished his chanting and shook his head: “Dingyuan, why don’t you understand? This world is all mud and fire hell. To transcend it, you must embrace hatred. Everything I do is to help you release your hatred. Only when you completely despair of the world, completely reject it, can you achieve immortality and reach the pure land.”
Faced with such a bizarre mix of Buddhist and Daoist nonsense, Wu Dingyuan could only curl his lip and spit at him. Liang Xingfu was about to dodge when a strange sound from the distant archives diverted his attention slightly, and the bloody spittle hit his cheek.
Clang, clang, clang, clang—like someone beating an old bronze gong.
But the sound wasn’t as loud as a gong, being muffled and dull, with uneven quality. Liang Xingfu looked toward the sound and saw a figure between several archive buildings, with a building similar to the Crown Prince’s. The figure took a few steps forward, ensuring Liang Xingfu had seen him, then quickly turned and ducked into one of the archive buildings.
This clumsy “drawing the tiger from the mountain” tactic was about as crude as his use of Wu Dingyuan as bait—it could almost be considered an obvious stratagem.
But Liang Xingfu still started walking in that direction. His time was quite limited. The commotion at the city wall would soon alert the Warrior Camp, and once the army reached the rear lake, the White Lotus wouldn’t get credit for capturing the Crown Prince.
Moreover, that yellow register building contained only documents—he didn’t believe the Crown Prince could hastily arrange anything that could harm him. Liang Xingfu wasn’t even worried about the other person trying to rescue Iron Lion’s son. The blood vessels in that man’s ankles had been pinched shut; even if freed from his bonds, he wouldn’t be able to walk for quite a while. Saving him would only add more burden to those trying to escape.
Liang Xingfu took long strides—covering in thirty steps what would take others fifty—and soon stood before the archive building. The wooden door wasn’t locked, just slightly ajar. Liang Xingfu had kept his eyes fixed on the surroundings, confirming that the Crown Prince had entered this archive building and hadn’t left. So he reached out, pushed open the wooden door, and stepped into this deep, cramped world of yellow registers.
The storage room was pitch black, with only three or four weak white beams of light coming in from the side. Liang Xingfu’s eyes were like a hawk’s—this amount of light was sufficient. He scanned the forest-like arrangement of bookshelves, peering through gaps between stacks of yellow registers to both sides while moving deeper into the building. Liang Xingfu’s frame was too massive; when passing through the narrow aisles, his thick shoulders would brush against the shelves, making them sway like a bear foraging through a dense forest.
The Crown Prince’s figure consistently maintained a short distance from Liang Xingfu, running between the bookshelves, sometimes deliberately slowing down as if afraid of losing him. Strangely, the clanging sound never stopped, and its location kept shifting between front and back—clearly, the person making it was constantly moving.
Liang Xingfu was slightly surprised—wasn’t that sound meant to draw his attention? Now that he was here, why did it persist so stubbornly? Was it merely meant to disturb his concentration? He had no interest in such childish tricks, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the Crown Prince ahead.
The Prince’s figure continued to move, but Liang Xingfu wasn’t in a hurry to give chase. He knew the archive had only one exit—as long as he controlled the passage, there was no escape. Before absolute power, any clever scheme would be thoroughly crushed.
The archive’s space was limited, and this strange pursuit soon reached its end. The Crown Prince backed against the wall, chest heaving, seemingly with nowhere left to go. Liang Xingfu advanced unhurriedly, his footsteps grinding the fine sand beneath. Only four rows of shelves now separated him from this cornered rat.
“Now!” Zhu Zhanji suddenly shouted.
The clanging stopped abruptly, followed by a deep, rhythmic series of collisions approaching from afar. Liang Xingfu’s brow furrowed slightly as he looked back. He saw the rows of wooden shelves laden with yellow registers collapsing like dominoes, one after another, tumbling toward him like falling mountains.
These wooden shelves were all five layers high and closely spaced. The lazy warehouse keepers had placed most of the yellow registers on the upper shelves, leaving the bottom relatively empty, making them top-heavy. One deliberate push would create a chain reaction of falling shelves.
Only moments passed between Zhu Zhanji’s shout and the shelves collapsed. By the time three or four massive bookcases came crashing down toward Liang Xingfu, it was too late to dodge. He let out a cold grunt and raised both arms, attempting to support the shelves like Hu Dahai holding up the Thousand-Jin Gate.
But this time, he had finally miscalculated.
Liang Xingfu was, after all, a warrior who excelled in combat but had no concept of the weight of written materials. Only scholars like Yu Qian knew how surprisingly heavy these seemingly light paper volumes could be when compressed together, and how unstoppable their momentum could become.
Four entire cypress wood shelves carrying nearly a thousand yellow registers came crashing down. Liang Xingfu’s arms held for just an instant before he was knocked to the ground and buried under an avalanche of thick volumes. Wood splinters and dust filled the entire warehouse.
Zhu Zhanji had already calculated a safe position, hiding in a small triangular space between the shelves and the wall. Seeing Liang Xingfu buried under the yellow registers, he quickly jumped out, covering his nose and mouth as he walked onto the debris to inspect.
Liang Xingfu was pinned under two large crossed shelves, each bearing two more shelves on top, and these four were partially blocked by outer shelves, creating an incredibly complex overlapping system. All gaps were filled with scattered yellow registers. If he wanted to escape, he would need to lift each shelf from the entrance one by one.
A sudden “thud” came from under the shelves, which shook slightly upward. Zhu Zhanji jumped back in fright, then noticed the “thuds” becoming more frequent. Liang Xingfu had tried pushing the shelves, and finding them too heavily layered to lift, had switched to punching the shelf frames—if he could break the cypress wood frame, he could push his way out.
Such fierce determination, trying to break cypress wood with bare fists. Given enough time, he might break free.
“Too bad,” Zhu Zhanji stood atop the debris, his lips curling slightly. Yu Qian’s strategy wasn’t finished yet. He turned toward the door: “Are you ready?”
“Almost!” Yu Qian’s voice came from the doorway, accompanied by continuous clanging. Shortly after, his booming voice called out: “Done!”
A ball of intense light arced from the doorway, landing on the pile of yellow registers covering Liang Xingfu. The registers, made of hemp paper and regularly sun-dried to keep moisture out, caught fire instantly. The small flame rapidly spread into a massive conflagration.
The bright flames illuminated Zhu Zhanji’s slightly twisted expression of satisfaction, Yu Qian’s simultaneously excited and pained face, and the nearly broken bronze incense burner in his hand.
This was the crucial part of their plan.
Zhu Zhanji had immediately recognized that the Wu family’s bronze incense burner was inferior goods—its mixed metal composition made it far from pure wind-polished bronze, likely a merchant’s scam. Any pawnshop would have thrown it out immediately. However, this defective piece had a special use in the Yellow Register Archive.
Pure bronze doesn’t easily produce sparks, known in the antique trade as “subdued luster.” Conversely, the more impurities, the easier it sparks. Yu Qian had used the iron city pass from Zhu Buhua to repeatedly strike the burner—all they needed was a single spark and a paper wick torn from a register’s cover to start a fire.
What followed was forbidden in the Yellow Register Archive—arson.
The place was essentially a ready-made fuel depot with its accumulated documents. Yu Qian’s burning wick easily ignited a sea of flames. The fire raged and danced, curling the corners of countless yellow registers, invisible heat fangs tearing at pages and frames. Burning paper fragments swirled through the air, turning to bright ash as they spun.
Zhu Zhanji had studied the route beforehand—the fine sand along the walls would slow the fire’s spread. He quickly ran along the wall to the door, but before leaving the archive, he glanced back one last time. In the distance, rhythmic pounding still came from beneath the fallen shelves, showing Liang Xingfu’s desperate struggle.
But despite his title as Enemy of Buddha, he was still mortal and couldn’t withstand the supreme might of the Fire God. Zhu Zhanji bent down to pick up a scattered yellow register, added it to the fire, and then ran out.
Yu Qian stood at the door and quickly approached when he saw the Crown Prince escape before the flames surged. Seeing the raging fire in the archive, his eyes twitched with pain.
Though Yu Qian had devised this plan, it didn’t mean he wanted to do it. These yellow registers were crucial civil administration documents—without them, the court’s governance could easily go awry. By burning this archive, Yu Qian had destroyed a corner of the empire’s livelihood, and his guilt burned hotter than the flames before him.
Fortunately, there was no wind tonight, so the fire wouldn’t spread to neighboring buildings. If the entire Liang Island Yellow Register Archive complex burned down, Yu Qian would likely have slit his own throat on the spot.
“Let’s go!” Zhu Zhanji pulled Yu Qian’s shoulder, seeing him still staring at the flames. Yu Qian sighed and followed the Crown Prince.
They quickly ran to the Lake God Temple, finding Wu Dingyuan tied to the banner pole, his face covered in blood, body shaking violently. Yu Qian realized first that the sight of the great fire had triggered Wu Dingyuan’s epilepsy, but his limbs were bound too tightly to move. Only his Adam’s apple bobbed, revealing extreme suffering.
They quickly untied Wu Dingyuan and laid him on his side. Yu Qian remembered to warn: “Your Highness’s dragon aura is too strong, best keep your distance.” Zhu Zhanji recalled that his presence could trigger Wu Dingyuan’s headaches, muttering “this troublesome fellow” as he reluctantly stepped back.
After a while, Wu Dingyuan finally returned to normal. His first words upon regaining consciousness were: “Where’s Liang Xingfu?”
“Burned…” Zhu Zhanji looked back at the still-burning archive. Wu Dingyuan raised an eyebrow, surprised these two had managed to defeat Liang Xingfu. He wiped saliva from his mouth corner: “Then why aren’t you leaving?”
“Once the fire’s spotted, the lake patrol will arrive instantly. Are you waiting here to die?” Yu Qian shouted. Wu Dingyuan’s shoulders slumped as he collapsed against the stone base of the banner pole, pulling out the rhinoceros horn ruyi from his waist and tossing it to Yu Qian: “Job’s not done, here’s your collateral back. My worthless life would just be a burden.”
“Nonsense!” Zhu Zhanji raged: “If we’d known you wanted to die, we would have just left earlier. Why go through all this trouble?” Wu Dingyuan looked up, fighting through pain: “Your Highness… if you can ascend the throne, please issue an edict to find Yulu. If she’s dead, bury her next to my father. Don’t worry about me…”
Yu Qian noticed this was the first time Wu Dingyuan had addressed the Crown Prince with such respect. Zhu Zhanji coldly replied: “I’m not her brother! Do it yourself!” Wu Dingyuan said helplessly: “The exit is right there. Follow the sluice gate at the northwest corner and you can escape Jinling. Don’t waste time on a worthless fellow like me.”
Zhu Zhanji grabbed the bronze burner from Yu Qian’s waist and threw it to the ground: “Then eat this burner and take back your oath.” As Wu Dingyuan was about to respond to this childish behavior, Yu Qian suddenly called out: “Someone’s coming!”
A night patrol boat on the rear lake had spotted the fire on Liang Island and was hurriedly rowing over to investigate. Zhu Zhanji squinted and saw only two frail warehouse keepers in white coats on the boat. He gestured for Yu Qian to watch Wu Dingyuan, then grabbed the incense burner and crouched down, creeping along the edge of the earthen platform.
The small boat soon docked at the stone embankment beside the Lake God Temple. The two panicked warehouse keepers had just disembarked and were heading toward the archive when Zhu Zhanji sprang from the shadows, striking their heads hard with the burner, knocking them unconscious.
Zhu Zhanji placed the bronze burner on the boat’s bow and returned to the banner pole with a fierce air. This time he didn’t waste words with Wu Dingyuan, just signaled Yu Qian, and together they half-carried, half-dragged Wu Dingyuan to the lakeside, dumping him into the boat with a thud.
“Your life may be worthless to you, but your death would leave me remembered in history as heartless and ungrateful. Not happening!” Zhu Zhanji said fiercely. Wu Dingyuan lay in the boat helplessly—with his legs useless, he could only let the Crown Prince have his way.
Yu Qian, being from Qiantang, was familiar with boats. He changed into a white coat and, panting, began rowing, slowly guiding the small boat around Liang Island. By now the archive fire had alarmed residents of the other four islands, who were shouting and scrambling into boats heading toward Liang Island. The dark lake surface was filled with the smell of burning, while sparks and debris drifted through the air like a grand ancestral ceremony.
Following Wu Dingyuan’s directions, the small boat quietly headed toward the sluice gate near Shence Gate.
The rear lake had originally been connected to the Yangtze River by a waterway. After building the Yellow Register Archive, the court constructed the Shence Stone Gate near Shence Gate to control water levels and prevent flooding. In other words, if they could pass through this sluice gate, there would be no more obstacles between them and the Yangtze River.
The rear lake wasn’t vast, and the boat soon approached its destination. Under the moonlight, they saw a waterway about ten zhang wide winding into the distance. At its narrowest point where it met the lake, an arched black stone gate cut across the water’s surface. The high gate walls on both sides were deliberately carved into dragon heads at the top, facing each other across the water.
It was May, with relatively little rainfall, so the stone mechanism in the sluice was only lowered halfway, leaving ample space between the water surface and the gate for passage. Yu Qian’s heart lifted as freedom seemed within reach, and his rowing unconsciously quickened.
But just then, he noticed ripples appearing on the water’s surface, one after another, as if frequent tremors were approaching from afar. Zhu Zhanji and Wu Dingyuan also sensed something wrong and looked up. They saw a squad of cavalry charging from the direction of Shence Gate, raising clouds of dust, at least a dozen strong. They were arranged in a single file along the narrow lakeside path, racing straight toward the Shence Gate.
With his keen eyesight, Wu Dingyuan spotted a white cloth hanging from the lead rider’s face in the moonlight: “It’s Zhu Buhua!” Yu Qian and Zhu Zhanji both shuddered, their faces turning pale. What terrible timing—just after dealing with Liang Xingfu, this demon had caught up with them…
It turned out that Zhu Buhua had rushed to the West Water Gate and beaten up Granny Tong’s old lover, naturally finding nothing. Only when the White Dragon Inn’s people came forward, reporting that Liang Xingfu and someone resembling the Crown Prince had clashed on the city wall, did Zhu Buhua realize he’d been deceived by the White Lotus sect. He hurriedly led his men toward the northern part of the city.
On the way, Zhu Buhua heard about the fire at the rear lake. Though unsure of what had transpired on the lake islands, as an experienced veteran, he astutely deduced that the Crown Prince might try to escape into the Yangtze River through the Shence Gate. He immediately turned his horse toward it.
After several mad dashes and sharp turns along the way, many cavalry had fallen behind. Only about ten riders managed to keep up with Zhu Buhua to reach the Shence Gate. Still, these forces should suffice to capture the Crown Prince’s party of the weak and wounded.
Just as the sampan carrying Zhu Zhanji’s group was about to pass under the stone gate, Zhu Buhua’s tall blue horse stepped onto the dragon head platform on the left side of the sluice wall. He turned his head on horseback, spotting the small boat drifting toward him with three shadowy figures aboard. His heart leaped with joy as he recognized the Crown Prince’s silhouette among them, making the festering sores on his face appear even more prominent.
After more than ten hours of twists and turns, it would still end by his hand.
Zhu Buhua released the reins and took his beloved Western compound bow from its victory hook, pulling out a goose-feather arrow from his quiver. The distance from the sluice head to the small boat was barely twenty paces—impossible to miss. Fighting the increasingly unbearable pain in his face, Zhu Buhua decided to end this quickly.
The boat’s occupants seemed to sense something wrong, but they remained frozen in place, perhaps having given up hope. All the better for taking careful aim. Just as Zhu Buhua’s fingers touched the bowstring, a woman’s voice suddenly cut through the air: “Eunuch Zhu, how’s your facial abscess?”
Zhu Buhua’s great bow trembled, nearly dropping the arrow. Turning his neck, he saw a woman in a horse-face skirt standing on the dragon head platform on the right side of the sluice wall. Her frame was thin and delicate, with a broad forehead gleaming in the light. Her black hair fell loose, the lake breeze lifting it to cover half her face, making her look like a ghost in the moonlight.
“Doctor… Doctor Su?” Zhu Buhua never expected to encounter her here.
The three people in the boat were equally surprised. Su Jingxi had stayed behind at the city wall, and they’d assumed she would simply leave. No one expected her to appear at the water gate.
Su Jingxi brushed aside her hair slightly, smiling thinly: “I calculated the time and figured the Eunuch should be about ready, so I came to bid farewell.”
“Ready for what?”
“Why, the end of your natural life, of course.” Su Jingxi’s smile widened as she continued, “You’ve been so busy with official duties, you probably haven’t noticed. The toxic medicines I’ve been feeding you have only made your abscess worse. Now the infection has taken deep root, internal toxins have accumulated, ready to erupt.”
Zhu Buhua’s naturally flat eyes bulged like copper bells for the first time in his life. Su Jingxi, not satisfied with the shock, added with a laugh: “After all, your abscess started from the contaminated roast goose I prepared. Months of planning have finally trapped you! Since I planted the cause, I naturally had to come to witness the effect—to see things through to the end.”
Her words seemed poisonous themselves—as Zhu Buhua listened, the sores on his face began to pulse and throb. Whether hallucination or reality, the rage was consuming his sanity, and he could no longer distinguish between real and imagined pain.
“Wretched woman! Why did you do this?” His roar echoed across both banks of the Shence Gate.
Su Jingxi’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by a vengeful expression: “Zhu Buhua, do you remember Miss Wang?” Zhu Buhua froze—who? Su Jingxi laughed coldly: “Of course, you don’t remember her name. How could you? She was just another lowly woman to you!” She spat out two more words.
Upon hearing them, Zhu Buhua’s face changed drastically: “You’re…” Before he could finish, Su Jingxi’s voice carried on the wind: “She was my dearest friend, so you must die, and die miserably—so miserably that even the eighteenth level of hell will feel like relief!” Her usually calm demeanor had given way to words dripping with such concentrated malice they seemed almost tangible.
Rage surged through Zhu Buhua as he suddenly aimed his bow at Su Jingxi. Just as he was about to release the string to kill this detestable woman, a small black object flew from the boat below, striking his left hand hard. The pain caused his arrow to deviate, whooshing past Su Jingxi’s ear and leaving a shallow cut on her cheek.
The object clattered to the ground—Zhu Buhua looked down to see it was the city pass he had given Yu Qian at Xuanjin Bridge yesterday. Having narrowly escaped death, Su Jingxi glanced toward the boat, seeing a tall, bamboo-pole-thin figure still lying in the bow, maintaining his throwing position.
Su Jingxi recognized him, her eyes flickering briefly before looking away. Zhu Buhua drew another arrow, but his earlier rage had set his facial pain boiling, stinging like thousands of bee stings, making his wrist shake too much to steady the arrow. Su Jingxi stared at her former patient, her tone carrying a trace of satisfaction: “By my calculations, the toxins in your body should be reaching their peak.”
Zhu Buhua’s will was entirely focused on suppressing the pain, leaving him no energy for speech, only glares. Su Jingxi stepped forward and shouted with great volume: “But, Eunuch Zhu, I want you to know. Even with your death, this matter isn’t finished. Those wrongfully killed souls, whose names weren’t even remembered—I will fulfill their humble final wishes! I will bring this matter to its true conclusion.”
Something in those words struck directly at Zhu Buhua’s core, instantly transforming his extreme rage into extreme terror: “You, you can’t…” Su Jingxi pointed at the small boat, her lips barely moving: “I can.”
Those two words fell like stones.
Months of accumulated toxins, the immense pressure of plotting rebellion, the intrigue with the White Lotus sect, the fear and anger of pursuing the Crown Prince all night, the shock of being systematically poisoned by a female doctor—all these negative forces had been brewing and swelling within Zhu Buhua, long reaching their breaking point. Those two soft words were enough to trigger the final explosion.
Yellow-green liquid burst from dozens of bright red sores. Zhu Buhua’s pancake-like face became a mess of flowing pus and rotting flesh. He tried to shake it off, only to have fresh blood from his mouth coat his chin, turning him into a grotesque painting of various colors. He swayed on his horse, trying to grip his bow, but his massive frame suddenly lost balance, tumbling from the top of the Shence Gate into the water with a huge splash.
He would suffer from the abscess no more.
This unexpected turn threw the Warrior Camp cavalry into complete chaos. They couldn’t understand why their commander had fallen into the water after exchanging just a few words with that woman. Some hurriedly dismounted to try to rescue him, others remembered their mission and looked toward the suspects on the boat, while another group charged toward Su Jingxi to arrest the killer.
The small boat seized this opportunity to suddenly accelerate, attempting to pass through the stone gate. Some Warrior Camp soldiers instinctively raised their bows to shoot, when a booming voice from the boat’s bow echoed across the lake:
“The Crown Prince is here! The traitor Zhu Buhua has been punished! Anyone who dares act will share the rebel’s fate!”
Yu Qian’s shout caused even greater chaos among the Warrior Camp soldiers. Only a few loyal confidants knew about Zhu Buhua’s pursuit of the Crown Prince. Most soldiers had been ordered to capture a minor palace servant suspected of bombing ships. Zhu Buhua’s hasty pursuit had included not just his confidants but also ordinary cavalry unaware of the truth.
Now Yu Qian’s sudden announcement that the Crown Prince was aboard and Zhu Buhua was the real traitor left everyone confused. The soldiers looked at each other, completely losing their ability to act in unison. Without Zhu Buhua as their backbone, even his confidants were at a loss, unable to even shout orders, let alone command.
As Yu Qian’s words threw the Warrior Camp into disarray, the small boat quickly slipped through the heavy stone gate, leaving the rear lake behind. Once past the gate, Wu Dingyuan and Zhu Zhanji exchanged glances, and with the unspoken agreement, both reversed their oars slightly, causing the boat to slow momentarily.
Su Jingxi didn’t hesitate to jump from the western dragon’s head, landing on the boat with a splash. In the moonlight, Zhu Zhanji noticed what seemed to be two faint tear tracks on her face. But time was pressing, and he couldn’t offer comfort, only waving at her before bending to his oar. On the other side, Wu Dingyuan also rowed vigorously, his face expressionless.
With both oars flying, the small boat moved swiftly along the waterway, soon leaving the Shence Gate and the Warrior Camp soldiers far behind.
After traveling about ten li, the city walls had almost merged with the horizon, and no pursuers had caught up. The sky began showing its fish-belly white, and the waterway gradually widened. The surrounding scenery slowly emerged from the dim white paper-like dawn-like ink stains. Both banks were thick with vegetation—tawny reeds mixed with light green wild rice and foxtail grass, while clusters of red knotweed covered the water’s edge. The fragrance of grass mingled with the misty water vapor, refreshing their spirits after a night of ordeals.
Zhu Zhanji, with his shoulder wounded, handed his oar to Yu Qian and walked to the bow to look ahead. The sun was about to rise, its early light barely visible. As far as he could see, the waterway joined a boundless great river. The surface roared with waves rising and falling, like thousands of troops thundering eastward.
Only then did the Crown Prince truly confirm that they had finally escaped Jinling.