In a residence within Xinhuai, the capital of Yan Country, Gu Yanxi was also studying a map. He wore a plain blue robe, his appearance unremarkable, and he looked somewhat leaner than before.

The door was pushed open from outside. Gu Yanxi looked up — it was Xiao Wu.

Xiao Wu stepped quickly inside and dropped to one knee. “Director, we found him — but we were a step too late. The man is dead.”

“How did he die?”

“Fire. It is still burning even now.”

A thorough method — burning away every last trace, leaving not a single piece of evidence to be found. Gu Yanxi let out a cold snort. “We have already alerted them. Order everyone to withdraw immediately.”

“Yes.”

Since taking command of the Seven Lodges Bureau, this was the first time Gu Yanxi had found himself at such a disadvantage. He had a feeling that the other party knew of his existence, knew of the Seven Lodges Bureau — knew even of this operation. From the moment he left the capital, he had been within the other party’s line of sight. And that person was not in Yan Country.

Gu Yanxi’s gaze returned to the map. His finger pressed down firmly on the two characters marking the capital city. He would root them out.

“Someone come.”

A figure knelt silently by the doorway.

“Leave two agents each from the Fourth Lodge and the Fifth Lodge. Keep them well hidden. Have them watch Ruan Xijiang without blinking.”

Ruan Xijiang was the current ruler of Yan Country — in the prime of his years and with ambitions that reached to the heavens, but with genuine ability to match. Every previous sovereign combined would not equal him. Given the opportunity, he would most certainly tear a great chunk out of Daqing.

Gu Yanxi had no intention of giving him that opportunity.

With his arrangements made, Gu Yanxi felt a powerful longing to return home. Two months — he had not seen Hua Zhi in two months. He had returned far later than promised. He did not know whether she had spared him even the smallest measure of worry.

Several days out of mourning, just as the Hua Family had nearly been forgotten by everyone, Hua Bailin dressed in plain mourning clothes and went to call on various households to offer thanks for their condolences.

He did not enter a single one of their doors — he simply knelt in gratitude at each entrance. When he had finished at the Chen household and turned to leave, he passed by both the Chen Zhihe and Yu Zhengyao residences without stopping his carriage.

Nothing of note had occurred in the capital of late. Seeing his conduct, people immediately began to speculate. Then, through asking and inquiring, it came to light that Chen Zhi — who had been a disciple of Elder Hua — had not appeared even once during his late teacher’s wife’s passing, had not worn a single day of mourning, had not accompanied the funeral procession. This news broke into the open and caused a tremendous stir.

When Old Madam Hua passed away, there had been no grand feast, and unlike some households, no religious ceremonies performed for all forty-nine days. That Chen Zhi and Yu Zhengyao had not appeared was something everyone had simply assumed meant they were helping the Hua Family behind the scenes — just less visibly so than Chen Dayi, who had been seen coming and going. Now it emerged that this was not the case at all.

Scholars and students — people who in their everyday disputes could not even raise their voices without resorting to refined rhetoric — were now beside themselves with outrage. That very day, crowds gathered before the two men’s homes. Those with the sharpest tongues delivered cold, cutting rebukes: “How much advantage did you take of Elder Hua’s name all these years? How many things did you accomplish by trading on his reputation? How much face did others give you, how many conveniences were extended to you, because you were his disciples? Now that Elder Hua has fallen on hard times, now that the Hua Family is ruined — the fact that you are the Elder’s disciples has not changed! You reaped every benefit, and now that calamity strikes you scatter like birds — there is no such reasoning in this world!”

“That’s right — there isn’t!”

“Yu Zhengyao, stop pretending you’re not home. We’ve already made inquiries — you and Chen Zhi dined together just a few days ago. Don’t think that no one knew because you chose an inconspicuous place!”

“If you don’t come out, we’ll break down the door!”

“Yes — break it down!”

The sounds of collective indignation carried clearly right through the walls. Yu Zhengyao paced back and forth. Though it was bitterly cold, sweat had broken out on his brow. If he could not get past this, he had no future to speak of — none whatsoever.

“Husband, what are we to do — how will Kun’er ever show his face again!”

“Silence!” Yu Zhengyao bellowed. His wife recoiled two steps. In all their years of marriage, her husband had never spoken to her with such ferocity. And now, he actually—

Yu Zhengyao’s wife burst into tears and fled the room with her hand pressed to her mouth.

Yu Zhengyao had no presence of mind to soothe anyone. He gritted his teeth, stripped himself bare, went out to stand in the courtyard, and had a servant bring several buckets of cold water to pour over him. Ice water combined with freezing wind — before long he was sneezing without stop. Shaking violently, he toweled himself dry, threw himself onto the bed, and shivered as he gave his orders: “Open the gate. Let them in.”

About ten people came in. Seeing Yu Zhengyao on the bed — ashen-faced and coughing without stop — several of them felt their anger cool somewhat.

Yu Zhengyao was just thinking to take advantage of the moment to offer a few more words of self-justification, when he heard someone say: “Strange indeed — what does the fact that you are ill now have to do with the fact that you failed to perform your duty as a disciple two months ago? You are surely not about to claim you have been ill for over two months, when someone saw you in perfectly good health just a few days ago.”

Yu Zhengyao’s mind went blank. He could not fathom how he had failed to account for this.

“So this is how it is, Yu Zhengyao — you dare try to deceive us with tricks!”

“What’s so strange about it — a man who wouldn’t even go when his teacher’s wife died wouldn’t think twice about deceiving us. I am ashamed to call myself a fellow man of letters. Gentlemen, I shall take my leave first. The very thought of breathing the same air as him turns my stomach.”

“Right, right — let’s go! We must make sure more people know what manner of man he truly is!”

“I am not—” Yu Zhengyao threw off his blanket and tried to give chase, but he was genuinely ill by now — dizzy, eyes swimming. The moment he stood, he collapsed back down, striking his head against the edge of the bed so hard that stars burst across his vision.

He struggled frantically to get up; servants rushed forward in a panic to help; but the more urgent they became, the more chaotic it grew, and the more chaos bred deeper panic in his heart. His vision went dark and he lost consciousness — collapsing just as he had originally planned, but with the timing all wrong and no audience to witness it.

Chen Zhi, however, showed none of Yu Zhengyao’s frantic distress. He chose instead to place himself squarely and decisively in opposition to the Hua Family.

Facing the scholars and students gathered at his door, he stood in plain mourning-colored clothes, his complexion haggard, and declared: “I did not go to pay my respects at the Hua household. The name of an unfilial person — I accept it. But I will not accept the charge of disloyalty to the state!”

The crowd was momentarily stunned. This righteous self-possession from Chen Zhi was something none of them had anticipated.

Seeing that he had silenced them, Chen Zhi assumed an even more imposing air of moral righteousness. He swept aside his robe hem and dropped to his knees toward the direction of the imperial palace with a resounding crack. “As subjects of Daqing, we must uphold every imperial edict of the Son of Heaven. If His Majesty has declared the Hua Family guilty, then guilty they are. If I were to continue associating with the Hua Family, what would become of His Majesty’s dignity?”

The crowd was stunned — then fury ignited in their chests like a roaring flame. So Chen Zhi’s meaning was that he was upholding the Emperor’s will by severing ties with the Hua Family — making all of them, who had not cut off contact, the ones who defied the imperial will?

He was the one utterly devoid of loyalty and decency, yet with a few turns of his tongue, he had twisted it so that they were the disloyal ones?

People had seen shamelessness before, but never shamelessness of this magnitude.

Those with the hottest tempers were already clutching their chests with darkening vision, pointing at Chen Zhi with trembling fingers and unable to find words.

But Chen Zhi had no intention of stopping there. Since his name was already blackened among scholars and students, he might as well go all the way. “I have wronged my teacher — but even if my teacher were standing here before me, I would do the same. As a subject of Daqing, there is no wrong in my loyalty to His Majesty.”