At the foot of Mount Tai, Fang Zhuhou watched the departing figure of Li Xiansheng until it disappeared.

He had been perfectly still all this while, but once Li Xiansheng had gone far, he raised his hand and gave a slow wave.

Li Xiansheng was a man who disliked goodbyes. These weeks on Mount Tai, living side by side with him from dawn to dusk, had given Fang Zhuhou some deeper understanding of the man.

Li Xiansheng said: people are born as individuals — separate, solitary — and so people are by nature lonely.

Fang Zhuhou asked: but what about partners? Friends? Parents? Family?

Li Xiansheng said: people are born lonely, but people are afraid of loneliness — and so they invented the use of feeling to maintain bonds. This, of all the species in the world, is something only humans have achieved.

Fang Zhuhou said: even a tiger raises its young.

Li Xiansheng said: and then what, after they’re raised?

He said: it is only people who, regardless of years and age, in the fear of their own loneliness and of others’ loneliness, prop up ring after ring of relationship.

When Fang Zhuhou heard these words, he suddenly understood what it meant to be a passerby.

Mawkish poets liked to say: in this mortal world, I am only passing through. They were not. Li Xiansheng was.

Just now, Fang Zhuhou had asked Li Xiansheng: must you really go?

Li Xiansheng smiled and said: I must. Otherwise I’ll grow attached.

Li Xiansheng had also said: the most frightening thing in the world is feeling — and also the most beautiful. Frightening because it’s beautiful.

Even after Li Xiansheng left, Fang Zhuhou did not move. He didn’t know why he still stood here.

He didn’t bother to ask himself why. If his heart simply wanted to stand a while longer, then he would stand a while longer.

The most exhausting thing about being human is the constant need to ask why.

When he turned to leave Mount Tai, Fang Zhuhou felt as though he was departing one world and returning to the one he knew.

And at that moment, Fang Zhuhou even understood why those people had used such a clumsy ruse to slip away.

They had barged in without asking permission, played in this world until they were satisfied — and then left.

Rather like a man who has no intention of spending money or investing feeling: trousers up, and walk away.

The Tingwei Office and Military Intelligence Bureau forces had been waiting at the mountain’s foot all along. When they saw Fang Zhuhou come down, they knew their task was over.

Waiting for a battle that never came, for those still living, was far better than a death that did come.

“Let’s go back.”

Even someone like Fang Zhuhou couldn’t suppress a smile when he saw the assembled company — full of the most thoroughly human, mortal warmth.

“Let’s go.”

He repeated those two words.

If one had to say Li Xiansheng left anything behind, it was Fang Zhuhou’s advancement — because of these weeks of companionship, Fang Zhuhou’s cultivation had reached a new height.

Perhaps a height Li Xiansheng himself had not reached. Fang Zhuhou wasn’t certain, and neither was Li Xiansheng.

When Fang Zhuhou had asked Li Xiansheng that question about whether exotic lands were fun, what he had actually meant — Li Xiansheng had understood. He wanted to follow along.

So Li Xiansheng had answered: …not as fun as Li Chi and them.

A Tingwei qianban stepped forward and asked Fang Zhuhou: “Is Li Xiansheng not coming back with us?”

Fang Zhuhou thought for a moment, then answered: “Li Xiansheng is an individual — a separate, solitary individual.”

This answer left the Tingwei men thoroughly confused, and all of them looked at Fang Zhuhou with puzzled eyes. But Fang Zhuhou offered no explanation.

—

Three months later. Daxing City.

Li Chi sat atop the city wall looking out. Spring warmth had come; outside Daxing City, a lush expanse of green stretched far.

It was not wild grass — it was crops. Though wild grass, too, spoke of flourishing growth, compared to crops it was something that could be burned away.

Wild grass’s vitality was a thing of nature. The vitality of people, naturally, needed something more useful to people.

Below the city wall, the Ning army was conducting its regular exercises. Li Chi’s gaze left the rows of blazing crimson banners and returned to the city gate below, because he had spotted Fang Zhuhou.

Fang Zhuhou had returned faster than the main body of troops — he seemed more urgently eager to get back among people.

Before long, Fang Zhuhou reached the top of the wall. Li Chi hadn’t expected Fang Xiansheng to return so suddenly, without even sending word ahead.

Well — he had sent word. The messenger simply wasn’t as fast as Fang Xiansheng, so Fang Xiansheng became the messenger himself.

“He probably always felt the mortal world wasn’t much fun.”

Fang Zhuhou smiled: “So I came rushing back. If I’d stayed with him much longer, I would have started to feel I was no longer of this world either.”

Behind that smile was genuine empathy for Li Xiansheng — not pity, but true empathy.

Because at this moment, Fang Zhuhou too had risen high enough to understand.

“Did Li Xiansheng leave any words for me?”

Li Chi asked.

Fang Zhuhou smiled: “He said — go back and tell the Prince of Ning, I’ll go out on his behalf to see how vast this world truly is.”

“He also said — tell the Prince of Ning: be a good emperor. From ancient times until now, the Son of Heaven in the truest sense has been absent for many years. Do a good job as the true human sovereign.”

What had been a solemn statement — and Yu Jiuling sitting nearby heard it and suddenly sputtered with laughter.

That one laugh, and Li Chi knew this fellow’s mind was running somewhere it shouldn’t.

Sure enough, Yu Jiuling muttered to himself: …be a good Human Sovereign (Rén Huáng) — isn’t that big brother’s job?

Li Chi turned to look at Yu Jiuling. Yu Jiuling grabbed his crutches and was off — practically flying.

“Will Fang Zhuhou be staying?”

Li Chi asked.

Fang Zhuhou smiled and nodded: “Staying.”

He looked at the lush, living green beyond the city, and smiled: “Li Xiansheng said to me — don’t think of yourself as a person…”

This gave Li Chi pause.

Fang Zhuhou continued: “He said — every world ought to have someone who stands as the supreme force, guarding this realm like a deity. Make yourself that deity.”

Li Chi: “Li Xiansheng was right.”

Fang Zhuhou curled his lip: “He was talking nonsense. He was just lazy. He wanted to wash my brain into believing that was my destiny, so he could make his escape.”

Li Chi: “…”

A moment later, the two men stood on the city wall and laughed out loud together.

—

At that same time, in a certain inn in the city.

Jiang Wei stood at the window watching the bustling streets below, his expression as though he had just licked the contents of the great cesspit hiding behind all that bustle.

“Three months.”

He muttered as if to himself: “Three months, and the only progress we’ve made is that we’ve finally managed to get into Daxing City.”

He turned to look at the subordinates standing behind him. All of them lowered their heads.

The security in Daxing City right now was far too airtight. It had taken them three full months just to obtain legitimate identities to enter.

“You all should understand perfectly well.”

Jiang Wei’s voice was somewhat heavy: “Killing Fang Biechen — at this point, frankly, it no longer matters.”

“Even if we entered the city today and killed Fang Biechen tomorrow, it would be completely meaningless. This person has long since revealed everything he knew.”

“So if we return empty-handed, do you think the Lord Commissioner will receive us with a smile?”

His men looked at one another, then shook their heads together.

They knew their Lord Commissioner far too well. He was a man who pursued benefit in all things. Returning after this much time with nothing to show for it — that made them people without value. And those without value need not exist.

Jiang Wei said: “I’m the same as all of you. If we go back this time without something to offer, none of us will come to a pleasant end.”

He turned to face his men: “So from now on, everyone moves. Go and gather intelligence on the Ning army.”

“Unless something unexpected happens, the Ning army will move out toward Shuzhou before the summer. Our only chance of survival is to bring back significant intelligence.”

Jiang Wei let out a slow breath: “But — Fang Biechen must die. If he lives, we are seen as useless.”

“Yes!”

His men answered.

Jiang Wei waved a hand: “Scatter everyone. Gather as much information as you can. The most important thing is anything related to Fang Biechen.”

“Yes!”

Another answer, and then they turned and dispersed.

Sitting by the window, Jiang Wei’s mind turned over and over. He had to think about his own future now.

—

In another inn less than a li away from that one, Mu Ying’s zhōngyuán officer Xue Lingcheng sat in a room drinking tea.

A subordinate entered and bowed: “My lord — Jiang Wei and his men have taken rooms at the Yingyue Inn. He just sent all his people out.”

Xue Lingcheng nodded.

He raised a hand and made an idle gesture; his subordinate bowed and withdrew.

As the Mu Ying Camp’s youngest zhōngyuán officer, Xue Lingcheng was, of course, ambitious — especially now, with Dou Qusheng and the others dead.

The Lord Commissioner currently lacked people at his side. This was an excellent opportunity to move up another step.

But before that — he wanted to kill one person. That person was, naturally, Jiang Wei.

He sat in deep thought for a long while, the crease between his brows deepening imperceptibly.

A man at his level of position could no longer simply act on feeling.

To kill Jiang Wei — and to extract the greatest possible benefit from killing Jiang Wei — the method had to become refined.

Just as he was thinking, a young woman of around twenty came in from outside. She offered no bow of greeting, walked straight to the side, and sat down — her complexion rather poor.

Her name was Shang Jiuying. She had originally been one of Lord Commissioner Pei Qi’s personal bodyguards, with a very particular status.

She was not a Mu Ying Camp member, yet her influence within the camp was no less than that of a zhōngyuán officer.

Because at least one quarter of the Mu Ying Camp’s people had been trained by her, personally.

“What’s wrong?”

Xue Lingcheng rose and poured a cup of tea for Shang Jiuying, asking in a gentle tone.

He dared not offend this woman. She was genuinely exceptional.

“If we don’t go back soon, I might go mad.”

Shang Jiuying looked at Xue Lingcheng: “You know what kind of person I am. You know what I’ll do if I go mad.”

Xue Lingcheng said: “We’ve already learned something important — Fang Biechen has been made deputy commander of a unit called the Langyi Camp, assembled specifically for the campaign against Shuzhou. We need to understand it better.”

Shang Jiuying said: “Are you thinking of taking on an entire military unit inside Daxing City?”

Xue Lingcheng smiled: “Fang Biechen’s reason for becoming deputy commander of the Langyi Camp can only be that he knows Shuzhou’s terrain.”

Shang Jiuying: “So?”

Xue Lingcheng said: “So if we can control Fang Biechen, when the Shuzhou campaign begins, we can make the entire Langyi Camp fall into a trap and be annihilated.”

“Control him — you?”

Shang Jiuying laughed coldly: “Do you know any sorcery?”

Xue Lingcheng said: “No sorcery. But what if we plant someone at his side?”

Shang Jiuying’s eyes narrowed: “What do you mean?”

Xue Lingcheng said: “I’ve already sent someone back to Shuzhou. Before Fang Biechen became an official, there was a girl he cared for. Once she arrives in Daxing City and is properly arranged — we can go home.”

Shang Jiuying gave a cold sound of contempt: “Using a woman again. You men truly are without imagination.”

She stood: “I despise using women the most.”

She paused, then looked at Xue Lingcheng: “When that woman arrives — hand her to me.”

—