The Great Qing dynasty governed through nine provinces, with the capital at its center, forming a protective encirclement.

Jingzhou lay in the south, bordering the state of Yan. Because it fronted the sea, the people here had one more livelihood available to them than those elsewhere — even the scent rising from the docks was unlike any other place. Seafood destined for other regions was also shipped out through the Wei River.

The ship was pulling in to dock. Shouts rose from all sides. Hua Zhi stood at the bow, her skirt billowing in the wind, which only made her more striking. Yet whether in bearing or expression, she carried herself at a remove that kept the world at arm’s length. Many eyes fell on her — openly and from the shadows — but only one person ever drew near, and this time even he was unable to reach Hua Zhi’s side.

The Sixth Prince cast a look at his own guards. Two of them each took a step inward, forming a wall in front of Jiang Huanran.

Standing on his toes, Jiang Huanran called out over them, “First Young Lady — First Young Lady—”

Hua Zhi turned back with an air of indifference. The look she gave Jiang Huanran was the same look one gives a stranger. The smile on Jiang Huanran’s face stiffened. For the first time, he had the feeling that he was disturbing Hua Zhi — and that the person being disturbed was plainly displeased.

Shao Yao, who had been pulled along at Hua Zhi’s side, also glanced back. Her veiled hat hid her fierce glare. If not for the fear of delaying Hua Hua’s business, she would never have let this fellow off — just you wait. Once we are back in the capital!

“Let us go. First we find a place to stay.” Hua Zhi was the first to disembark. Her features, which would have stood out even in Yangzhou — renowned for its beauties — were all the more arresting in Jingzhou, where both men and women tended to be several shades darker than those of the inland regions. She drew the gaze of everyone along her path and seemed entirely unaware of it.

There was a carriage rental at the dock. Xu Ying went ahead to negotiate and soon returned leading two carriages.

Although Hua Zhi had not wanted to bring too many people, their party still numbered nine: herself, Bao Xia, and Xu Ying, plus two guards belonging to the Sixth Prince and two more arranged by Gu Yanxi.

Hua Zhi had initially intended to have Xu Ying rent a few horses as well, but all four guards shook their heads in unison. The horses used in Jingzhou were a short-legged breed, quite different from the tall horses of the north, and on looks alone they simply would not do.

Even the best carriage the rental yard had to offer was not particularly comfortable for Hua Zhi. She lifted the window curtain and looked out at the people going by — the place seemed reasonably prosperous, though still far below what she had imagined.

She had been thinking about this incorrectly. Even if Jingzhou bordered the sea, the Great Qing was nothing like the robust and outward-looking Ming dynasty. By comparison, it was almost insular — it had not established contact with any nation beyond the sea, and its people did not even know that on the far side of the water there existed people who looked different from them, and different civilizations altogether.

To them, the sea was simply a place that helped them survive. They fished its waters for all manner of seafood to sell to the inland regions, which brought them silver in return. And in certain seasons, they endured the disasters — great and small — that the sea’s fury brought upon them. That was the full extent of what the sea meant to them.

No foreign enemies. No pirates. No invasions. Hua Zhi sincerely hoped it would stay that way forever.

“It is so much hotter here than in the capital.” Shao Yao removed her hat. Her face was already streaked with dust and sweat.

Hua Zhi looked at her and dabbed at her perspiration with a handkerchief. “I had thin clothing packed for you. Change into a fresh set once we reach the inn.”

Shao Yao pressed herself against Hua Zhi’s arm and rubbed her cheek against it. She did not tell Hua Hua that she had once come here with Yan Xi — and that their arrival had caused this place to run red with blood.

“Hua Hua, how long will we be staying here?”

“Depends on how smoothly things go. If all goes well, a few days should be enough to settle the terms. Why?”

Shao Yao grinned, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Heh heh — I am wondering how long Yan Xi will have to wait back in the capital.”

Hua Zhi flicked her on the forehead, and her thoughts also drifted to that man. Ten days had already passed; by her reckoning, he should be making his way back by now.

In truth, things were nothing like she imagined. Gu Yanxi was still in Yuzhou. When Qisu Division first received word, the Seven Star Sect had two thousand followers; by the time he arrived in Yuzhou, that number had already crossed four thousand. It had doubled in a matter of days — far more serious than anyone had anticipated.

At this moment, he moved through the crowd wearing an utterly unremarkable face, head bowed in deference like everyone around him, though he held himself at a slight angle so he could watch everything on the raised platform from the corner of his eye.

The so-called leader of the Seven Star Sect wore a white robe, her hair loosely gathered at the back of her head. When she did not smile, she had the look of a deity — detached from mortal suffering. Yet when she smiled, she radiated a sanctity so pure that a person might willingly place their heart in her hands. Gu Yanxi had followed her for three days and watched her perform three ceremonies, and with each one his estimation of the Seven Star Sect had shifted again.

Before coming, he had assumed this was yet another scheme of the usual variety — a false front meant to extract money from ordinary people. But this woman was different. She had not taken a single copper coin from the common folk. On the contrary, she had freely distributed what she called sacred water, and after Gu Yanxi watched with his own eyes as a sickly person drank the water and recovered, he had the substance sent overnight to Elder Yu for examination.

Even as he watched the ranks of followers multiply rapidly, he held himself in check and did not move. Anyone who staged an operation this large must be seeking something. He had not yet determined her motive, and danger that remained unmapped could not simply be suppressed. This was a threat.

“My lord.” Chen Qing entered quickly. “We lost her again.”

It was the third time they had lost her. Gu Yanxi turned a silver hairpin in his fingers, its tip pressing lightly against his fingertip. “Her origins are still unaccounted for?”

“Yes.” Chen Qing ground his teeth inwardly. In all his years with Qisu Division, this was the first time they had failed to trace someone’s background. She could not have materialized from a crack in a rock — and even if she had, Qisu Division should have long since pried that rock open and examined it.

“Has Yuan Shifang made any move?”

“I have people watching him. Everything appears normal.”

Gu Yanxi raised an eyebrow. “Come at this from his angle. Investigate.”

Chen Qing hesitated. “But he has shown no irregularities—”

“Yuan Shifang has the lowest-born origins of the nine chief administrators, yet the sharpest capabilities. A man of his ability would not fail to notice a sect of this scale appearing on his own ground. He knows. Yet he has done nothing. In anyone else, that might be ordinary. In him — that is suspect.”

Chen Qing took the lesson to heart and was about to go and make arrangements.

“Wait.”

Chen Qing turned back around.

Gu Yanxi lowered his head in thought for a moment. “Do not move the people watching him. Have unfamiliar faces circulate on the outside, and keep yourself hidden.”

Chen Qing was startled. “An informant inside? I thought we had cleaned those out. When did Qisu Division become a sieve?”

“A precaution.” Gu Yanxi looked down at the silver hairpin catching the light. He had a feeling his movements had not been successfully concealed from certain people — just like that time in the state of Yan. Yet if those few individuals were truly connected to this, the logic fell apart. What advantage would they gain from building up a sect like this? In all of history, those who tried to topple a dynasty through such means never came to a good end.

Moreover, the techniques this sect leader employed did not resemble those of an ordinary charlatan. They bore more resemblance to the methods of those celestial masters. The First Prince’s lesson was still fresh, and not much time had passed since that affair — they should not have forgotten so quickly.

A dangerous light entered Gu Yanxi’s eyes. If the celestial masters were stirring up trouble again, this time it would not end with merely driving them away.

But the celestial masters alone could not raise a wave this large.

Author’s note: My heart has been acting up a little. There is a drowsy side effect from the medication, and most of the day has been spent sleeping. Updates will be reduced to one chapter a day for the next couple of days — but I have noted the debt I owe, and I will make it up!