The people of Yandu had just received an unexpected windfall, only to find that life had suddenly grown difficult. The Imperial Guards seemed to have appeared out of nowhere—they didn’t interfere with anyone’s daily life, but the sheer number of them pouring through the streets and alleys of the capital was enough to put everyone on edge.

Overnight, the Taize Trading House was sealed shut, the Ping Family’s old shop was sealed, and both the Qing’an Prefecture Merchants’ Guild and the Dongchuan Merchants’ Guild were shut down as well.

The people living beneath the imperial city always had a certain regional cunning about them, and they promptly bolted their doors and hid themselves away.

“The sky doesn’t look good. Don’t go running off outside.”

Huo Wurong stood at the door of the main hall, calling out to her son, Bai Ruyi.

Bai Ruyi clenched the strip of cloth in his fist, and not wanting to worry his mother, turned around and put on an air of nonchalance. “Ma, I’m just going to wander around near the entrance.”

Huo Wurong sighed, looking at his leg. “How’s that injury of yours? Any better?”

Ten years now—mother and son had grown remarkably close, sharing a genuine bond of affection.

Not wanting his mother to worry, Bai Ruyi smiled and said, “It’s been fine for ages, don’t worry about it. It’s just that a few days back I stood surety for someone’s bet and haven’t settled the accounts with them yet. I’m going out today to sort out the ledger, so they don’t keep coming around here pestering you with this and that.”

Huo Wurong had grown rather naggy these days, and she said irritably, “If you find it such a bother, you shouldn’t have gone to the gang leader’s place to gamble in the first place. There are plenty of hall masters in the streets who don’t come begging them—go tell them, I said it myself! Hold off on the payout for now, keep it all pressed down. As for however much money you can sort out, come back and have the shrewd shopkeeper from the old shop go over it in person.”

Bai Ruyi smiled. “Alright, got it.”

Seeing him behave, Huo Wurong broke into a smile. “Next time don’t be so kind-hearted, especially with these shady dealings—if we can avoid getting involved, we should avoid it. You know, these past few days I’ve felt uneasy in my heart. It’s like waking up in the morning to find three bundles just lying at your doorstep for the taking—making money’s never been this easy. Don’t walk out there on your own; hitch up our donkey cart and go, save yourself the walking.”

Bai Ruyi gave an acknowledging sound and obediently went into the shed to harness the animal. As he worked, his mother kept chattering beside him: “These past few days, have you been to the temple to see your godfather? I saw the summer melons in the streets looked good—go pick two baskets of the sweet ones to bring him as a filial gift.”

Originally, it had been Huo Qiqian who wanted to give Bai Ruyi to Uncle Xin, but somehow he’d ended up registered under her elder sister’s name instead. Huo Wurong wasn’t one to easily accept a favor without repaying it, and had always treated him as an elder of her own family, showing him filial devotion.

Harnessing the halter onto the donkey, Bai Ruyi answered with a smile, “Just haven’t had the time, that’s all. I’ll go in a few days.”

Huo Wurong, still dressed in her usual men’s clothing, tucked her hands into her sleeves and nodded. “That’s already the second batch of melons. I had the auntie at the street corner make him a lined jacket for this autumn—take it along when you go. Ruyi… Ma’s had bad dreams these past few days.”

Having fastened the cart shaft properly, Bai Ruyi clapped his hands and looked at his mother. “Bad dreams?”

Huo Wurong nodded. “Mm, dreamed your little aunt’s house collapsed. It’s nothing, go on now—dreams mean the opposite…”

She turned and reached up by the doorway to take down her wine gourd and hang it at her waist. These days, it was the largest wine gourd among all the gang leaders in Yandu.

Bai Ruyi knew what his mother was worried about. He only spoke once he’d reached the doorway. “Ma, you don’t need to worry about little aunt either. Uncle-in-law said she’s fine—in a few days she’ll probably come back together with An’er.”

Huo Wurong laughed, speaking with unusual clarity. “I’m not worrying about them. Your little aunt is a princess consort after all, and your uncle-in-law, though a man of few words, is someone who keeps a clear head. Besides, their family’s foundation runs deeper than ours—they’ll always have more ways to manage things. Tsk… if it comes to nothing, I’ll just go take a look at Jiangzhu myself, what do you say?”

Even while rambling on like this, still claiming not to worry—Bai Ruyi was about to offer comfort when he heard his mother veer off in another direction entirely: “I keep thinking about our family. This house has been grand for three years now, I’ve already got the grandson’s room set up, why aren’t you in a hurry? You’re not young anymore either. A few days ago, Fourth Uncle Long from Liyu Alley said he wanted to give his second daughter Erjuan to you… what do you think?”

Bai Ruyi thought of what Erjuan looked like, but couldn’t quite picture her face—he always just saw the girl doing chores either at her own doorstep or at her father’s shop. So he laughed. “Ma, whatever you decide is fine. Someone like me, I’m not particular.”

Hearing him say this made Huo Wurong angry. “What do you mean, someone like you? Are you missing an arm or a leg? Hurry up and throw away that broken mask of yours—the medicine’s worked well enough these past years, it’s just a shallow trace now, you can’t even tell if you’re not looking closely. How many times have I told you—you wear that broken thing spinning around all day, you—yin-yang face!”

She laughed at herself once she’d said it, then pointed at the door and scolded, “Get going already, seeing you makes me angry.”

Bai Ruyi chuckled, adjusted his little gourd, picked up the whip, climbed onto the donkey cart, called out, and drove off through the streets and alleys. His social standing was even better than his mother’s—the whole way, people kept greeting him.

Occasionally when he passed someone selling melons, fruit, or plums, they’d give him the freshest one, half a piece even, for him to nibble on as he strolled along. The perks of being a gang leader—sometimes even more comfortable than being emperor.

West of Yandu, outside the city.

The quiet ten-mile pavilion couldn’t withstand the thick summer heat; birds pecked at the blazing season, unable to outdo the old cicadas’ cries.

The heat left people listless, crops drooping their leaves. A line of long-distance escorts, led by camels, came huffing and puffing toward the small West Gate. The old escort chief raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, then looked toward the pavilion and called out, “Master Nun~ let’s hurry along, we’re about to set off.”

Inside the pavilion, a nun dressed in blue-grey Daoist robes murmured a Buddhist chant, nodding her shaved head toward the old escort chief.

The escort chief, not particularly wanting to look at her pockmarked face, gave a soft grunt and turned to walk away with his hands behind his back. But he hadn’t gone two steps when he heard the jingling of donkey bells, and turned back with a look of delight, calling out, “Master Nun, quick, look—is that your brother coming?”

The pockmarked nun grew anxious as well, rising to look. As the donkey cart drew near and she made out clearly that it was the person she’d been waiting for, tears suddenly spilled from her eyes, and she murmured, “Shunxing’er, you’ve grown so much.”

Bai Ruyi had originally been named Zhang Pingchuan, with the childhood name Shunxing’er; the elder sisters in his family had also called him Brother Shun.

Getting down from the donkey cart, Bai Ruyi glanced around and spotted a pockmarked nun crying at the sight of him. He didn’t recognize this face, but in this world, the only people who would cry for him were family.

He walked over, studying her carefully with some hesitation, and called out, “Third… Sister?”

He’d been given the news and it had shocked him—his sister had died at the Wu family’s household seven or eight years ago. Back then he’d borrowed money from his mother to try to ransom her out, and the Wu family had sent out a second-tier steward to tell him that last year there’d been an epidemic of malaria, and several of the Wu family’s servants had died, his third sister among them.

They’d even taken him to see the grave. He’d erected a headstone for his sister and had gone every year since to add fresh earth and burn paper offerings. Who could have imagined she hadn’t actually died?

So then, all these years—what had his sister actually been doing?

The siblings stood frozen, studying each other as strangers, unable to recall how the other used to look. Bai Ruyi now felt a deep guilt—guilt that, when he’d believed his sister dead all those years ago, he hadn’t grieved much at all.

Back then, narrow-minded as he was, he’d felt that for a child of the Zhang family to die was a kind of release—that those in the ground were the ones enjoying peace.

Only gradually, as he grew older, did he come to understand. What he’d once thought back then was an unbearable catastrophe meant nothing at all to others. As the saying goes, a person shouldn’t look back—one look, and you’re sure to end up a fool, thrashing about pointlessly.

In old Yandu, how many idle bits of gossip passed between neighbors—whose family didn’t have some shame buried somewhere? Never mind a disobedient child; even a woman who’d left the brothels to start fresh could still live a perfectly good life.

If a person had a bit of savings set aside, they wouldn’t even need a betrothal gift—there’d be plenty wanting to marry them. A widower, a cripple, it didn’t matter—life belonged to oneself; as long as you were breathing, you were alive, and there was something to look forward to.

And besides, what did those mistakes even have to do with them? It was their grandfather who’d raised them wrong—back then, speaking a bit too loudly at home would earn a scolding from grandfather about being rude and ill-mannered, though no one ever knew quite what “manners” meant to the old man.

The moment he’d passed, the family had been ready to starve the old grandmother to death—a household that was, truthfully, something of a joke.

The pockmarked nun’s lips trembled as she walked step by step toward Bai Ruyi, murmuring again, “Shunxing’er, Brother Shun, you’ve grown so much?”

Bai Ruyi both wept and laughed. “How is it you still call me by that name—I’d nearly forgotten it myself.”

He studied his sister’s face carefully again. “Third… sister?”

The nun was indeed Zhang Baojin. Hearing her brother address her this way, she responded with soft acknowledging sounds, but strangely, the sorrow suddenly lifted from her, and she said, “If it weren’t me, who else would still remember you’re called Brother Shun.”

Hearing this, Bai Ruyi studied her face again more closely. He’d received scout training himself, and could tell that his sister’s disguise was rather impressively done.

But why hide her true appearance? A chill ran through his heart as he asked, “Sister, all these years, where have you been?”

Had she, like him, ended up as someone’s hidden agent as well?

Zhang Baojin was stunned for a moment. Thinking that from now on they might never meet again, and not wanting to burden her brother with more worries, she spoke frankly: “Not far from you, at the Founding Marquis’s residence. Brother Shun, walking about in the streets, have you ever heard the name Zhang Baojin?”

Bai Ruyi was startled to hear this. Zhang Baojin was a well-known figure in Yandu—people said she was breathtakingly beautiful, that outsiders were never permitted to see her. It was said that the Founding Marquis, Tan Weitong, had been so taken with this woman that he’d forced his own legal wife out to Qingfeng Prefecture on her account.

In truth, his sister’s real name was Zhang Qingying, taken from the line about the clear waters of the Canglang River, fit to wash the tassels of one’s cap.

His sister had actually become Zhang Baojin? Then… this was a disaster.

A chill ran across his skin in an instant. Bai Ruyi glanced around nervously and said, “Sister? Do you know, the Tan family…”

“I know, I know! I was there just yesterday… I was there…”

As she spoke, Zhang Baojin touched her own wrist. She’d wanted to die—but last night, when the blade came down, it had hurt, and she’d been afraid, and she’d ended up just holding her wrist, watching the blood flow and then clot.

Afterward, she’d sat hugging her legs, thinking for a long while, before finally hurrying to pack up her belongings and leave.

Years back, when Bai Ruyi had gone to try to ransom her, she’d learned where her brother was, but had never once contacted him—it was for his own good.

Bai Ruyi drew a breath and said quietly, “You were there?”

Zhang Baojin nodded. “Mm. I watched him take his last breath.”

Gooseflesh spread across Bai Ruyi’s arms in an instant. Before he could ask, Zhang Baojin continued, “Tan Weizheng poisoned him…”

The old escort chief coughed from a distance to hurry things along. Bai Ruyi, sharp as he was, understood that Zhang Baojin needed to leave. Still uneasy, he swallowed down the flood of questions in his chest, hung his wine gourd somewhere visible, and forced a smile as he went to make small talk with the chief.

Zhang Baojin stood where she was, watching her brother—had he come to back her up?

It felt like a dream. Her own Shunxing’er, the child her grandfather and father had once cradled so tenderly, afraid he’d melt if handled too roughly—now he stood before her, a man who could hold his own in the world.

She began crying again.

The old escort chief had started off in poor humor, but somehow, whatever her brother said to him, his posture soon bent respectfully, his smile turned deferential, and in the end he laughed heartily, exchanging all manner of pleasantries with her brother. He then had the handler lead the camels off to rest in the shade… it seemed that even if she and her brother talked until nightfall, they wouldn’t be rushed to depart.

An old woman arrived carrying a load and set up a tea stall outside the ten-mile pavilion.

Inside the pavilion, Zhang Baojin wiped her eyes and sighed. “…Just look at your sister, what a sorry sight I am. I truly didn’t have the courage to die. Yesterday I kept thinking, why should I—being passed around like some object, and in the end I’m supposed to die for them too? Something about that just didn’t sit right with me! Right, Brother Shun?”

Having heard the whole account, Bai Ruyi finally relaxed, and found himself laughing at his sister’s teasing—though it was a hollow laugh.

“Pfft…!”

The old woman selling cold tea brought the cups over. Bai Ruyi bent to take them, thanked her, and handed one to his sister.

Zhang Baojin took it with some embarrassment, chiding him. “You, you scoundrel, how dare you laugh at me—I nearly died yesterday.”

She raised a fist and gave her brother a light punch as she said it. She’d spent years cultivating a coquettish charm, and with a gesture like that, she looked nothing at all like a nun.

Thinking of this gave Bai Ruyi a headache. “Ugh, you really can’t keep acting like this.”

Not understanding, she glared at her brother. “What can’t I do?”

Bai Ruyi said, “Nothing about this works—dressed like that, you won’t even make it to Jindian. Something’s bound to go wrong on the road.”

Zhang Baojin, unconcerned, replied, “That’s only with you. I hid in the Tan household for all these years—Tan Weitong never knew I belonged to Wu Xiu, and Wu Xiu never knew I belonged to Tan Weitong. Your sister isn’t stupid.”

Bai Ruyi drew a breath, suppressing his anger. “I just don’t understand—if you were going to become a nun, why did it have to be Jindian of all places? This Tan family, tsk… Sister, let’s pick somewhere else, shall we? No—let’s not become a nun at all, alright?”

She wasn’t that old, really—his sister had suffered a hard fate, passed from one place to another until she’d become an old maid by circumstance. Whether or not she married didn’t matter much, but at least from now on she wouldn’t have to live in constant fear—why couldn’t she have a good life?

Zhang Baojin, still unconcerned, said, “Brother Shun, think about my life so far—I’ve only ever set foot in three rooms. Our family’s old house, uncle’s sheep pen, and their household’s small square of sky. I’ve seen nothing at all, barely been near a front gate, don’t know many people at all. The most I ever heard was that troublesome man telling me how wonderful Jindian was—good mountains, good water, honest simple people. So I remembered it.”

She looked up at her brother earnestly. “I want to go see it for myself. Not necessarily to become a nun either… Yesterday, when I thought I was about to die, I kept thinking—this life of mine, I was born a person for nothing.”

Bai Ruyi pressed his lips together, saying nothing, thinking of the mess with the Tan and Wu families, and hating himself for having no power to help.

Both siblings avoided one particular matter—that if his sister hadn’t faked her death, with his current abilities, getting her out would take considerable effort, and might not even succeed.

Now, with who she’d become, she’d be a critical figure wherever she went. If she stayed in Yandu, even with his little aunt and uncle-in-law as support, escaping this mess would still cost her dearly—and by the time she could start over and rebuild her life, it might take another ten years.

How many ten-years does a person get?

He finally let it go, smiling as he took the gourd from his waist and carefully hung it at his sister’s side. “I got the news and rushed over in a hurry, didn’t manage to bring you any travel money. Don’t lose this—if you run into trouble, find the biggest trading house in the area, the kind with branches spread across the country, a small local one won’t do!

If you’re ever short, just give this gourd to their head shopkeeper. Your brother’s built up a bit of a reputation and connections these years—this should be worth about a hundred strings of cash, no more than that though.”

Zhang Baojin refused it. “I don’t want it! I have my own money to spend!”

She finally remembered the actual matter at hand, and hurriedly pulled a cloth bundle from her sleeve, along with a key, which she handed to her brother. She then repeated once more the dying words of Wu Xiu and Tan Weitong:

“…I got to thinking—the both of them were about to die, so there’d be no reason to lie to me. Tan Weitong spent all these years trying to dig out Wu Xiu’s secrets, and Wu Xiu wanted to get hold of Tan Weitong’s weaknesses too. Too bad, neither of them got what they wanted in the end, and it all fell to me instead.

What’s inside this bundle is in Jindian—there’s a map, ready-made, but I can’t read it. Besides, I don’t want to use his money anyway. As for this key… Brother Shun, listen to your sister—this is something you can’t afford to touch. Give it to your uncle-in-law, let him rise in rank and make his fortune off it. You can tell people outside that you’re the one who presented it, let it count as his achievement alone—when it’s done, he’ll remember your kindness, and might just throw you a bit of the reward.”

Zhang Baojin handed these things over so easily that Bai Ruyi’s hands were shaking as he took them. He was baffled—his own sister, caught between two men who’d both named her in their dying words, and yet she was just going to walk away from it all like it was nothing?

This wasn’t wealth—this was a death sentence!

Truly, what a heartless sister she was.

Zhang Baojin’s skill at reading faces was unmatched in the world. Seeing her brother’s expression was off, she glared and said, “You little brat, are you cursing me in your heart?”

Bai Ruyi shook his head. “No, just… muttering a few things to myself.”

Zhang Baojin scratched her shaved head out of habit, revealing the dried, bloodied cloth strip beneath. “Don’t you mutter about me. The people I’ve dealt with aren’t the same as the ones you’ve dealt with. The one you ran into was a life-saving bodhisattva; the one your sister ran into was a demon that punishes good and rewards evil. I can’t learn to be good the way you have—you think I’m giving you this so you can strike it rich? What I think is, none of them were good people—there’s definitely nothing good waiting behind all this!”

Bai Ruyi fell silent, and solemnly tucked away into his sleeve the item that represented ten years of scheming between Wu Xiu and Tan Weizheng against each other.

In the distance, the old camel wheezed and snorted. Bai Ruyi slowly reached out and took his sister’s hand. “Sister… these years must have been hard on you.”

Zhang Baojin wouldn’t accept that either. “Nonsense! These years, I’ve worn gold bracelets set with eight treasures on my wrists, jade flower hairpins in my hair. In spring I drank tea from a jade longevity-melon cup, in summer I used jasper lotus ware, in autumn a jade crab cup, in winter the marquis’s own jade chi-tiger cup—when I was in a bad mood I’d smash them for fun, and he’d only worry that my hand might hurt…”

As she said this, Zhang Baojin’s hands began to tremble, tears falling steadily as she continued: “…In winter I wore crane-down silk, in autumn jade-colored brocade, in summer gold tassels light as feathers, come spring again purple cloud gauze. Brother Shun, you know what?

I just casually praised a house-guarding treasure plate that a southern merchant was selling, and the very next day I found it sitting on my table. I asked how much it cost, and the marquis said—said he didn’t know… said the southern merchant could go feed the turtles in the river for all he cared, he wasn’t about to go ask him himself. That’s the kind of man he was… why should I have followed him to his death, huh?”

Zhang Baojin covered her face and began sobbing. Bai Ruyi wanted to comfort her, but with people watching, he held back for a long moment before finally saying, eyes reddening, “Sister, don’t cry anymore—your, your pockmarks are coming off.”

“Pfft…”

“Ow, ow ow… gentler, that hurts!”

Zhang Baojin took her hand off her brother’s waist flesh and wiped her eyes, saying, “How is it you’re just as heartless as I am?”

Seeing her stop crying, Bai Ruyi let out a breath and sighed. “Guess that’s what it means to be real siblings.”

He wanted to keep his sister with him, to look after her, but a matter this serious—he couldn’t protect her from it.

Zhang Baojin nodded, sniffling. “That’s for sure. Our family’s roots rotted long ago—can’t rely on grandfather’s side, and forget about our mother’s family entirely. Oh! That year once I’d caught my breath, I wanted to go make trouble for old Yin Laoyu. I sent someone to look into it, and they came back and told me he’d… committed an act of bestiality, and had been executed three years prior. Such a disgusting charge—I figured it must have been you, Brother Shun, wasn’t it?”

Yin Laoyu was their uncle, the one who’d sold off Zhang Baojin and had wanted to sell Bai Ruyi too, though he’d been clever enough to escape.

Bai Ruyi nodded expressionlessly, looking off into the distance. “Wasn’t he a beast? Our family never once wronged him… you remember Chan Niang, don’t you?”

Zhang Baojin scoffed. “How could I forget—selling the two of us was that wretched woman’s idea in the first place.”

Bai Ruyi raised an eyebrow. “That’s the advantage of being a gang leader—you get to hear about every little corner of gossip. I happened to overhear an old granny in the street chattering about it—Chan Niang was originally bought as a concubine by our grandfather on our mother’s side, the contract even says so, bought to serve as a concubine to our grandfather.

Only, Chan Niang hadn’t even been in the household two months before our grandfather passed away, and she ended up with Yin Laoyu instead. That sort of thing, if the people don’t report it, the authorities won’t pursue it—but since he’s a beast, I had to make it known to the world. Not the slightest bit of injustice done to him.”

Under Daliang law, relations between a man and his father’s maidservant, or a concubine, were considered bestiality—a serious crime!

Zhang Baojin propped her chin and sat stunned for a long moment before finally laughing. “Well then, the great debt’s been repaid. From now on, I’ll live for myself in whatever’s left of my life—what do you say, good?”

She stood up and, like a true nun, pressed her palms together in a farewell gesture to her brother.

Bai Ruyi looked at his sister, guilt weighing on him more than he could bear. He opened his mouth, then finally pointed at the donkey cart. “Sister, do you know how to drive it?”

Zhang Baojin looked at the cart. “You’re giving this to me?”

Bai Ruyi nodded. “Yeah, giving it to you.”

Zhang Baojin laughed, all her pockmarks bunching together as she did. “It’s fine—I’ve got a whole life ahead of me, I’ll learn if I don’t know how!”

And just like that, Zhang Baojin walked off, free of all burdens, leaving her brother standing alone at the small West Gate, full of unsettled thoughts, muttering to himself: “Something’s wrong. Zhang Qingying, if you’re heading to Jindian, why leave through the small West Gate? Did she lie to me?”

Realizing he’d been fooled, Bai Ruyi felt thoroughly annoyed and wanted to head back into the city, only to find the West Gate would let people out but not back in.

Asking around, he learned that today the North and South Gates of Yandu had been closed—only entry from the east and exit from the west were permitted.

With no other option, he hitched a ride on a teahouse’s water cart heading toward the East Gate.

The whole way, his mind wouldn’t settle, turning over the two items his sister had given him—should he really hand them over to his uncle-in-law or not?

His sister made it sound so simple—talk of rising in rank and making a fortune. More like risking his head, if anything.

If he handed these things over, how was his uncle-in-law even supposed to explain it to the court? Oh, Wu Xiu told me where he’d hidden his money as he lay dying, and this was also entrusted to me by Tan Weizheng on his deathbed, saying it should be delivered into Tan Shouyi’s hands?

There was no way to make that story make sense.

Besides, the family was already in chaos right now—An’er’s mischief alone had the whole household’s elders on edge. If he brought this enormous disaster right to their doorstep on top of it, what would that make him?

A broom star, a plague god?

The water cart swayed along, Bai Ruyi holding onto the buckets with difficulty as it rocked. The summer sun blazed overhead, and his mind grew tired—he was just about to doze off for a moment when he heard a loud clang, and someone shouting: “Close the gates… close the city gates!”

Following that came all manner of desperate, panicked cries for help.

The water cart came to a sudden stop. Bai Ruyi’s head plunged straight into the water bucket—by the time he lifted his head and wiped away the water, the driver had already fled.

Dust rose in the air, donkeys braying, people screaming, thudding sounds echoing without end. Bai Ruyi saw, in the open space not far from the East Gate, an old beggar with a huge bundle on his back, covered in blood, locked in combat with two men.

Looking more closely, Bai Ruyi was stunned speechless—he recognized that old beggar. That was An’er’s old Chou, the one everyone thought was a fool!

Looking even more carefully, he was even more shocked—one of the two men he recognized, the old man called Ding Yumen; the other he’d never seen before, but from his movements, he was unmistakably from the Nine Provinces Domain.

Old Chou was clearly no match for these two—he tried to dodge using the line of horses waiting outside the city, but was struck square in the chest by a palm strike, sent flying backward to crash into a carriage, then bounced off onto the ground, immediately coughing up blood.

The one called Ding Yumen stepped forward, demanding, “Running again? If your conscience is clear, why run?”

Old Chou already had multiple old wounds on his body, truly at the end of his strength. He thought bitterly, what rotten luck—are you a fool? You think I’m not going to run when you’re about to search me?

He never could have imagined such terrible luck. After leaving Jindian, he’d resumed his beggar disguise and traveled without incident for days, hurrying along until he could see Xiaonanshan in the distance. To move faster, he’d made use of the relay stations, using the scout contact method taught to him by Chen Dasheng to request a post horse.

A lifetime of careful caution, and one moment of laziness had nearly cost him his life.

As it turned out, the horse hadn’t gone more than a few miles before these two men had come charging out, saying they wanted to question him and inspect his bundle.

He carried on him the evidence of Tan Shouyi’s treason—how could he dare let these two anywhere near it? So he’d started fleeing, using every trick of his lifetime along the way.

He wasn’t a top-tier martial artist by any means, and he’d truly been stumbling and staggering the whole way, taking countless blows, with four or five knife wounds on his body. Who would have thought that right at his own doorstep, he’d be blocked outside the city gate by his own people, unable to get in—it was enough to make him choke with frustration.

He couldn’t very well shout at the gate, announcing: I’m His Majesty’s secret agent, I’m carrying evidence of Tan Shouyi’s treason against the country, hurry and open the gate to let me in?

Not only would no one believe such words, but if he shouted them out loud, with countless commoners hearing it and passing it along from ten to a hundred, it would bring about a catastrophe of the highest order.

Public unrest was the very root of a nation’s ruin.

Old Chou didn’t dare shout and could only endure. Coughing up blood from his chest, his vision blurring, his breath growing labored, he saw Ding Yumen approaching to examine his bundle, and raised his hand, striking down on the Chize point on the man’s arm, severing it.

Ding Yumen staggered back, then stood and ran, only to be kicked in the leg at the Liangqiu point by the other man—there came a crack, and he knew his right leg was broken.

So he lay on the ground, playing dead without moving, thinking to himself, this life of mine… this is how it ends, right here.

He also thought, that damn kid, when he learns I’m dead, he’ll probably be devastated.

In that fleeting moment of thought, he bit through his back molar, and the poison pill within dissolved in his saliva.

Ding Yumen had been fooled countless times along the way, and seeing this one motionless, he kicked up a broken stone and hurled it at Old Chou’s back, this time using concealed force.

With a dull crack, just as he’d hoped, the scoundrel’s spine snapped, his body twitched once on the ground, and then went still.

This time he’s really unconscious? Ding Yumen glanced at the wax figure man, who nodded and slowly moved closer.

The wax figure man—a kitchen worker who handled dried meat and cured pork, essentially an errand runner for sacrificial meats. He ranked among the lowest tier within the Nine Provinces Domain, and had been assigned this time by the Minor Steward to assist Ding Yumen in guarding the Xiaonanshan route, which had brought them together here outside the East Gate of Yandu.

Old Chou lay sprawled, his lower body already numb and lifeless. He gave a crooked, twisted smile, and just then felt someone grab the back of his collar to pull him up. Riding with the motion, he suddenly reached out and grabbed the man’s hand, pinning down the Zhongzhu point at the finger joint and yanking downward.

Don’t underestimate that Zhongzhu point—it’s one of the most painful spots on the back of the hand. Old Chou had never learned the martial arts of the Nine Provinces Domain, nor even the techniques that Chen Dasheng and the others had trained in—what he’d learned were the flashy little tricks of concealment and escape, quick reconnaissance, and the most direct, practical unarmed combat techniques.

And so, Ding Yumen watched as this scoundrel, seething with fury, twisted the wax figure man’s hand back on itself, and as the man opened his mouth to cry out in pain, the scoundrel twisted his face sideways and spat directly into his mouth?

And after spitting, he even dared to smile at him?

Ding Yumen was a man obsessed with cleanliness, and now his head buzzed with a single furious note—this man had spat into someone’s mouth? Into the wax figure man’s mouth, no less.

His throat churned with disgust, murderous intent rising in him, and he was about to deliver a killing blow when he felt the sound of crossbow bolts cutting through the air. He immediately leapt backward, and once steady, saw that the city guards had already raised their crossbows, aimed squarely at him…

The wax figure man let out a scream of agony. Everyone looked again to see his face had already turned an ashen blue-black, and he was clawing at his own throat.

What frighteningly fast poison!

Old Chou’s mouth had also turned blue, yet he began laughing loudly, and was about to curse when he heard a familiar voice call out: “This man is a wanted criminal of the Nine Provinces Domain—don’t let him escape!!”

Ding Yumen’s heart lurched with shock at these words—he never could have imagined that someone here in Yandu would recognize him.

Remembering the Minor Steward’s orders, he didn’t dare linger. Seeing that villain’s face already turning blue, he stamped his foot and leapt away… and behind him he heard that voice shout again: “Don’t let the court’s wanted criminal escape, fire, fire the arrows…”

Bolts whistled continuously through the air behind him. Ding Yumen, holding back a surge of frustration, made his rapid escape.

Only once he was well out of sight did Bai Ruyi finally emerge from behind the soldiers, rushing straight toward Old Chou.

It turned out he’d seen the fight and had squeezed his way toward the city gate, and while it hadn’t yet been fully shut, he’d pulled out his scout token and thrown it in, shouting: “Urgent report, urgent report!!”

Before long, the gate general came out, and upon seeing his mask, was startled.

No wonder—half of Yandu knew that half-face.

The Half-Face Immortal of Yandu was one of the court’s own?

Bai Ruyi had no time to explain any of this, and simply pointed toward the men outside the city, saying they were from the Nine Provinces Domain.

The Nine Provinces Domain and the Great Liang dynasty were sworn enemies—once they knew who it was, they were naturally ready to fight… in fact, it had all unfolded quite swiftly, and yet it was still too late.

Why hadn’t Bai Ruyi rushed in himself? He’d started his training late, only beginning to condition his bones and sinews at age nine—against martial artists of similar level, even three or five at once, he wouldn’t have feared them, but these were from the Nine Provinces Domain, and he couldn’t afford to charge in recklessly.

Who knew—the Minor Steward might be nearby as well.

The wax figure man collapsed with a thud, and by the look of it, it wasn’t feigned—blood was already seeping from all seven orifices.

The poison Old Chou carried had originally been designed for agents to use on themselves—aside from that first stroke that had severed the intestines, there was no pain after, just a swift death.

Bai Ruyi rushed over and lifted him up. Old Chou, recognizing this half-face immortal, bared his teeth in a grin. “Don’t… don’t tell An’er I died.”

Bai Ruyi was about to ask for details when Old Chou grabbed his hand and said, “Quick, quickly take me to see His Majesty, Tan Shouyi… treason in Jindian…”

Blood trickled slowly from Old Chou’s nostrils. Bai Ruyi gritted his teeth, lifted him up, found an empty cart, and drove the animals hard, charging into the city…

At that moment, the entire East Gate stood wide open. The gate general stood there, his body trembling slightly as he looked left and right, before finally, after a long moment, sending someone rushing to report to his superiors.

He thought, this was bad, very bad—Tan Shouyi had rebelled, and the world was about to fall into chaos!