Liu Jue looked at the battlefield below, a flicker of exhaustion crossing his face before vanishing in an instant. Radiant with energy, he declared, “Tonight the General’s Residence will host a victory banquet!”
The officers and soldiers were overjoyed. As they came down from the city tower, the people of Linnan cheered without exception, and guild representatives even brought out gongs and drums to deliver wine and meat to reward the troops.
It was still early before the You hour banquet. Gu Tianxiang, having settled the navy, rushed to the General’s Residence still in his armor, unchanged. Liu Jue had changed into a loose dark green robe and lay on the couch, with two young servants massaging his legs and hands. Tianxiang sat down carelessly on a chair, and an attendant hurried to bring him a hot towel. He took it and wiped away his sweat. The attendant asked cautiously, “Would the General like to remove his armor and rest a while?”
Tianxiang glanced at him; the killing intent on his body had not yet faded, and the attendant immediately shut his mouth and withdrew.
Liu Jue opened his eyes a crack. A young servant handed over a cup of tea; he took it and drank a couple of mouthfuls, then said unhurriedly, “Something bothering you?”
Gu Tianxiang asked in a low voice, “What do you make of it?”
“If it were me, I wouldn’t be foolish enough to only send the navy on a frontal assault against the city. If that could have worked, the war would have started decades ago. After holding back for so long, to suddenly attack—surely they wouldn’t be foolish enough to try the same thing again. We, after all, are the ones at ease while they are worn out.”
Gu Tianxiang’s eyes warmed. “Do you remember the games we played as children?”
Liu Jue’s eyes snapped open, glaring at Gu Tianxiang. “Come rub my shoulders, they’re killing me!”
Gu Tianxiang stood up without a word, and Liu Jue was startled. “All right, all right—if you rub it you’ll cripple me for sure.” Gu Tianxiang walked over to Liu Jue’s side, and Liu Jue jumped up in alarm. A moment later he saw Gu Tianxiang had already lain down on the couch, saying to the young servant, “Change the tea, rub my legs! I’ll sleep a while—arrange things yourself.” His eyes closed as if he had already fallen asleep.
Liu Jue didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, though a smile had already quietly spread across his face. He stretched, and full of spirit, walked out of the inner hall.
Gu Tianxiang lay with his eyes closed, his thoughts flying back many years, to when he and Liu Jue used to set up game pieces and play. Back then he had used this very trick to capture most of Liu Jue’s pieces, shouting, “Tianxiang soars high! Let you rush recklessly forward!” Liu Jue had thought it over for two days, and when he came back at him, he had broken through this trick, sending a soldier around to cut off the retreat, saying smugly, “Trap your foot, and let you flounder on the ground!” Thinking of this now, the lines of his face softened. He truly fell asleep.
At the Changle Tavern, everyone was in high spirits too. The Seventh Madam laughed, “If Linnan City were so easy to breach, the war would have started decades ago.”
Huzi chimed in crisply, “When Huzi grows up, he’ll be a general too!”
Everyone laughed.
“Madam, I think you all still shouldn’t move over there. If something happens, at least being together we can look out for each other,” Nanny Zhang spoke up.
A’Luo sighed. That day she had gone to observe by the riverside; the western mountain cliff looked steep, but it wasn’t sheer like a blade-cut wall with no way up or down. She had specifically wanted to live there, thinking she might secretly slip down the cliff and escape. Now that the war had begun and the Chen navy had been repelled, there was no telling whether there would be a second or third battle. Originally they had lived apart to avoid implicating Nanny Zhang’s family, but now it seemed better to live together so they could look after one another. So she smiled and said, “Of course we’ll stay with everyone.”
Back in her room, A’Luo couldn’t sleep. She didn’t light a lamp, not wanting to disturb the Seventh Madam and Xiao Yu, and sat wrapped in her outer robe, lost in thought. Before her eyes flickered the vigorous figure of Liu Jue striking the war drum. From that instant, her eyes had never left him up on the city tower. A’Luo felt she truly had the sensation of worshipping a hero. She smiled faintly to herself—she hadn’t yet really thought through what kind of person Liu Jue was.
Among the Five Young Masters of Fengcheng, the Crown Prince was handsome, every gesture carrying an air of nobility; Zili was elegant, with an unchanging smile that was the most approachable, yet always carried a trace of sorrow beneath it; Cheng Shiyue had made his name young, dashing and unrestrained; Gu Tianxiang exuded cold detachment—one glance and you’d think him a block of ice, even the faint smile at the corners of his mouth was pale and distant. No matter how much he spoke, that impression never changed. And Liu Jue—when she first met him, she’d thought him spoiled and arrogant, sometimes like a child. He’d had palanquin bearers jostle her about, and shamelessly insisted she learn the zither. Yet at the Crown Prince’s night banquet, he had boldly stepped forward to save her—though he hadn’t directly offended the Crown Prince, an air of protecting her at all costs had lain beneath it regardless. That night, he had ridden his horse and gently escorted her back to the Chancellor’s residence; that time, when they were ambushed, he had deeply and earnestly vowed to her a lifetime’s promise. That day, when she had set fire to the pontoon bridge, she had seen him from far across the river—though the distance was great, the sorrow and fury still reached her. Later she’d heard he had pacified mountain bandits and brought order to the southern army. He seemed to change in a thousand ways, leaving her unable to see through him or grasp him.
A’Luo, drowsy with thought, fell asleep in her clothes.
The night after the first snow had cleared was bright with moon and sparse with stars. Beneath the western mountain cliff by the Han River near Linnan City, several black shadows suddenly appeared—clearly all skilled fighters—moving silently to the base of the cliff. With a few leaps, they had already scaled the city wall. The one in the lead flicked his wrist, and a narrow, slender short sword appeared in his hand; his body slipped behind the sentry like a cat, the blade black, and with a light swing he ended the sentry’s life as easily as slicing tofu. He quickly wrapped the body in a prepared sack; the poor soldier tried to cry out in alarm, but before any sound came, his windpipe had already been severed—the blade’s edge thin as paper, not even a drop of blood sprayed out. Someone immediately stripped the corpse’s clothes and put them on, while another dragged the body aside to hide it, and a new “sentry” stood tall on the wall. Fully two quarter-hours passed with no movement before ropes were finally lowered from the rocks at the far end of the wall.
Only then did figures surface in the Han River—clad head to toe in black diving suits, they scrambled up the cliff along the ropes as swift as lightning. Far off at the other end of the wall, the standing sentry glanced over, but the rocks and tree shadows on the cliff concealed the shadowy figures’ movements. The impersonating sentry stood as straight as a spear in the moonlight.
Before long, some ten-odd people had slipped over the western mountain cliff into Linnan City. The leader made a series of strange hand signals. This group of roughly a hundred quietly began infiltrating downward from the mountaintop. When they came across households, using some unknown method, they didn’t even let the dogs bark once. Several black shadows slipped into the homes; the sleeping townsfolk all had their sleep-points sealed, continuing to sink into unaware dreams, with no suspicion even upon waking.
There were more than twenty households on the western mountain. The intruders worked with great care, handling every household along the mountain path this way as they descended. Before long, they had silently reached Nanny Zhang’s Changle Tavern. The leader lay prone on the hillside, observing the tavern’s three courtyards. With no neighboring households around and forest behind it, it was perfectly suited for hiding men and horses. He gave a signal, and the black shadows floated into the tavern like bats.
At that time, in the woods, two death-warriors of the Ming Faction, clad in black, had been ordered by Liu Jue to guard A’Luo. It was cold, and they had each leapt up into a tree, choosing comfortable positions.
One of the sentries on duty twitched his ear, eyes narrowing slightly, startled to see a group of black shadows floating into the tavern. Judging by their skill, they were probably not below his own level. He quickly judged the enemy stronger than themselves. Seeing the shadows enter the tavern, he dared not act rashly, and quietly roused the other two. The three exchanged glances; their long partnership had bred understanding without words. One leapt out of the woods to report to the General’s Residence, while the other two quietly approached the tavern.
Just as the black shadows floated into the courtyard, A’Luo had just lain down in her clothes, still hazily not quite asleep. Suddenly she heard the door latch creaking. A’Luo opened her drowsy eyes to glance idly around, and saw a black shadow cast through the window paper—the latch was quietly moving. Terror turned her body to ice, and by reflex she rolled off the bed onto the floor. Alarmed, she thought again—it made no sense, the latch being moved proved someone was already inside, and the quilt was still warm. In her panic, A’Luo didn’t know what to do. In two steps she crawled out from under the bed, huddled by the cabinet, and grabbed a pair of candle-trimming scissors that came to hand.
She watched as the door was gently pushed open, and a black shadow lunged straight for the bed. A’Luo, heedless of anything else, sprang up and plunged the scissors down. Before the intruder could cry out, she followed with a hard strike of her palm—and knocked him unconscious. Her heart pounded wildly with fear; reaching out, she pulled off the man’s face cloth—it wasn’t Liu Jue, but a strange man. A’Luo let out a breath, not knowing whether these were men Liu Jue had sent to capture her. Looking out the window again, she made out several more shadows moving indistinctly.
A’Luo’s heart lurched—Seventh Madam and Xiao Yu, and Nanny Zhang and the others! They had no martial skill, utterly defenseless. She herself had at least practiced some hand-to-hand skills; against the martial masters here she was no match, but she could hold out for a few exchanges. Anxious, but her hands kept moving—she stripped off the intruder’s black garb and hastily put it on, then closed her eyes and struck down hard with another palm blow. She didn’t realize that if the intruder hadn’t come all the way down from the mountain assuming these were ordinary commoners and thus lowered his guard, and if her own strike hadn’t been so quick, there was no way she could have succeeded.
A’Luo pulled the face cloth over her face and walked out the door. The black-clad figure said nothing, looked her over, and A’Luo hurriedly nodded. Just then, looking toward Seventh Madam and Xiao Yu’s room, she saw two black-clad men carrying them out. A’Luo’s heart ached, and she nearly moved to act. But the other side had four or five people; she could only hear her own heart pounding wildly, not daring to make any move.
Silently she followed the black-clad figures to the central courtyard. A’Luo was startled—there were actually more than ten black-clad, masked men who had come to the Changle Tavern tonight. They laid Seventh Madam, Xiao Yu, and Nanny Zhang’s family of four all down on the ground. They entered the main hall, leaving two men outside, and without lighting a lamp, in the faint moonlight one voice said, “There are still ten hours until tomorrow’s operation. What should we do with them?”
The leader thought it over. “This couple seems to be the tavern owners. Keep them. The rest—kill them!”
A’Luo was in a panic when suddenly someone said, “These two are actually quite pretty.”
Cold light flashed in the leader’s eyes. “Don’t forget what your status is!”
The black-clad, masked men all lowered their heads in silence. Two of them walked toward Seventh Madam and the others, hands raised to strike down. A’Luo, unable to bear any more, kicked out with a flying leg, shouting loudly, “Help! Help!”
Her voice rang out clear. The two Ming Faction knights lying in wait outside the wall exchanged a glance and leapt over the wall. The people inside were thrown into disorder by A’Luo’s outburst. A’Luo struck and dodged as she went, thinking that this way the black-clad men might not have time to kill Seventh Madam and the others. She managed only one kick and one strike before rushing swiftly for the door.
At that moment the two Ming Faction death-warriors had already sent up a signal flare, and were locked in battle with the black-clad men. A’Luo heard the sound of wind at her back and dodged to the side. One Ming Faction knight had already leapt to her side to protect her.
The black-clad men were shocked, not knowing where these skilled fighters had come from. Seeing the blue-green flare shoot into the sky, the leader made a hand signal. The black-clad men grew fiercer in their attacks, every move aimed to kill.