The day he’d just left home, he’d been overcome with sorrow.

The grievance and anger that had built up over the incident with Yu Xiao’er had been somewhat diluted by a single bundle from his parents, replaced instead by guilt and melancholy. Given how considerate his father and elder brother normally were toward the family, their willingness to let him leave home at a time like this was already an enormous concession. His mother was gentle and soft-hearted by nature, and there was no telling how many tears she’d shed. Given Aunt Gua and Sister Chuyi’s temperaments, when he eventually returned home he wouldn’t escape a proper beating. As for Aunt Hong, she was even more tender-hearted — thinking back on it now, there was no way he could have hidden his departure from her, and the only reason she hadn’t dragged him back by the ear was probably that his father had intervened on his behalf.

Though he was only fourteen or fifteen, he had already been to the battlefield, and he knew exactly what the worst misfortune a household could suffer looked like. The world beyond the southwest was far from peaceful, and if he truly never came back, how much suffering would his family have to bear? Just as with his own younger brothers and sisters — if one day something like what happened on the battlefield befell them, he himself would probably grieve to the point of wanting to kill everyone responsible.

That night, lodging at a post station, his thoughts turned over and over. Thinking of his family — especially his younger siblings — he couldn’t help wanting to turn around and go straight home. His mother was probably still crying, and he had no idea whether his father and his aunts could manage to comfort her. Wenwen and Ningke were probably crying too, most likely — the mere thought of it made his heart ache terribly…

With such thoughts running through his mind, he couldn’t sleep that night, and climbed up onto the roof, where he sat for a long while. The night wind in the fifth month was cool and pleasant. The little market town that had grown up around the post station still had scattered points of lamplight, and there were still a few travelers on the road. The glow of torches and lanterns radiated outward from the market in a curving crescent, and in the distant villages one could still see the glimmer of villagers going about their business, with the occasional bark of a dog carrying over on the wind.

He sat like that late into the night, until most people had gone to sleep and only a faint rustling could be heard from a nearby building. Ning Ji found himself thinking of the days back in Chengdu when he used to spy on the little cur, then shook his head — women were all rotten creatures, no point thinking about her, she’d probably already died out there somewhere.

Deep in the night he finally went back and lay down, tossing and turning for a good while longer before gradually drifting off to sleep.

The next morning, after rising and running through a set of vigorous fist forms in the inn’s courtyard, the world once again felt wide open and full of possibility.

Of course it would be nice to go back, but if he lost his nerve this time, it would be that much harder to leave again for the rest of his life. He had trained under a group of martial masters for all these years, and had been through the crucible of the battlefield — he was no longer a child incapable of thinking for himself. His martial skill had reached a plateau; if he didn’t go out into the world now, from here on it would be nothing more than flashy forms practiced for fun.

After all, when it came to martial arts, the foundation built through practice at home mattered a great deal, but once that foundation was laid, only real combat — combat soaked in genuine malice — could push a person further. There were plenty of masters back home in the southwest, and sparring all-out with them was one thing — he certainly couldn’t beat them — but in situations where both sides knew each other’s capabilities inside and out, it was increasingly rare for anyone to be able to put him under real, crushing pressure.

Last year in Chengdu, when Uncle Chen Fan had used the pretext of fighting three opponents at once to justify striking without holding back, he had thrown that one punch as if he truly couldn’t restrain himself. Ning Ji had thought he was about to die; in that state of total-body terror, his mind had scrambled through every possible response, and afterward he had gained enormously from the experience. But even someone like Aunt Hong could no longer manufacture a situation like that for him now.

There were plenty of men in the army skilled at desperate, life-or-death combat too, but if he actually fought them for real, he might genuinely be unable to hold back. Injuring someone, whoever it was, was no small matter.

In the martial arts, that phenomenon of passing through a hair’s-breadth brush with death and emerging improved was called “stealing the secrets of heaven.” Walking along tall wooden stakes worked on a similar principle; some people chose to practice their forms at the edge of cliffs deep in the mountains, where a single misstep could mean death, precisely because the effect was even stronger. It was the same on the battlefield — the constant, moment-to-moment tension of mortal danger could mature a person rapidly. But that particular experience, the battlefield, he had already been through.

When he was small and had just begun learning, the way of martial arts had seemed like a boundless sea with no shore in sight. A single casual move from Aunt Gua or Aunt Hong would force him to use everything he had just to defend himself. There had been times when, in the heat of a fast and furious exchange, they would pretend to lose control and “accidentally” nick him with blade or sword, and he would break out in a cold sweat from sheer terror. But these had all been carefully calculated “traps” that stopped just short of real harm, and he had gained enormously from every one of those bouts afterward.

Having been through the battlefield in the southwest, having killed many enemies with his own hands and then returned to the rear, that kind of fear had rapidly faded. Aunt Hong, Aunt Gua, Uncle Chen — they were all still formidable, of course, but now he could see clearly just how formidable they actually were.

Later, on certain occasions, he’d overheard his father talking with Aunt Hong and the others, saying that he himself had advanced too quickly, that he shouldn’t have gone to the battlefield. Had he not gone, he might have continued improving for a few more years before touching that same boundary; having gone to war, his combat mindset was already solid, and all that remained now was the natural strength gained through his body’s continued growth, which would carry him a little further still.

His father had done little actual fighting in recent years, but his theoretical grasp of martial arts was of course extremely high.

The southwest was simply too gentle a place — like its climate through the four seasons, nobody there was going to kill him; his father’s protective wings covered everything. If he stayed on here, no matter how much he trained, he would forever remain a step behind Aunt Hong and Aunt Gua. To close that gap, he had no choice but to leave — to go to places where wolves and tigers prowled and the wind and snow howled, to temper himself there, to truly become the number one hero under heaven… no, not a hero. Ning Ji.

As for that damned Yu Xiao’er — well, he probably shouldn’t curse her like that anymore — she really had just been an excuse.

His young body was strong and full of vitality. After eating through half a table’s worth of breakfast at the inn, he’d more or less settled himself mentally, letting go of even a good measure of his resentment — genuinely a positive, healthy state of mind — only to feel a jolt when it came time to pay the bill. A martial artist ate a great deal, and once he left the southwest, he probably wouldn’t be able to eat so freely anymore. This, it seemed, would be his first great trial.

Leaving the inn, the warm morning sun had already risen, and there were plenty of travelers on the road leading out of town.

Ning Ji had walked several of the roads from Zhang Village to Chengdu before — this was not his first time — but leaving home like this lent the journey an entirely different mood. He followed the main road for a while, then left it behind, cutting instead along various smaller paths.

The Chengdu plain was mostly flat, open country, and the young man went whooping and hollering across the fields, through the woods, along the raised paths between rice paddies, through villages, sunlight flickering through the tree shadows. Yellow dogs that villagers kept to guard their homes would come charging out at him, and he would dodge and weave with peals of laughter — not a single dog ever managed to get close enough to touch him.

On the fifth day he camped out in the wilderness for the night, and by the afternoon of the sixth, he’d reached the outskirts of Chengdu.

Centered on the old city, a bustling commercial network had been built up running from southwest to northeast. In and around the villages of the outer districts, all manner of new factories and workshops, large and small, had sprung up. Makeshift sheds with incomplete facilities and newly built compounds had encroached on what had once been houses and farmland; workers who had poured in from other regions in great numbers lived in simple dormitories. With so many people crowded in, some of the outlying paths that had once seen little traffic were now thick with mud and standing water, which baked into pitted, blackened ground whenever the sun came out strong.

White lime was scattered everywhere — along roadsides, around houses — and although this was still the outskirts of the city, one could often spot workers wearing red armbands on the roads. Seeing that sight gave Ning Ji a familiar sense of comfort. They moved from village to village, inspecting the factories and workshops for hygiene, and while they also handled the occasional minor public-order matter, their main job was sanitation inspection.

His father and elder brother’s very first demand, when it came to any gathering of people, was that everyone’s personal hygiene be kept in order. Workers brought in from other regions all had to go through centralized training upon arrival, and were repeatedly and sternly warned not to relieve themselves around the factories. And before any factory was permitted to open its doors, the first things it had to have ready were a set of standardized public latrines and a stockpile of lime for disinfection. Ning Ji had heard his father mention these matters several times before, but only now, returning after nearly a year away, did he actually see the changes that had come over the area surrounding Chengdu.

The roads leading into the city had all been widened somewhat, though they remained bustling and crowded. Because factories had begun springing up in the outlying villages, several lively markets had appeared outside the city walls as well, and snacks that had once only been available within the city could now be bought out here too, at prices even lower than the previous year — enough to have the young Ning Ji lingering there for quite a while.

For the Southwest Huaxia Army, the greatest victory of all had been the great triumph of the past two years in resisting the Jurchens. That victory had brought commercial orders flooding in from warlords on every side, including Liu Guangshi, and alongside the enormous volume of official orders, all manner of private merchants and traders had come flocking in as well. Prices for goods from the southwest had shot upward; the region’s original production capacity had long since fallen short of demand, and so factories large and small kept being thrown up at a breakneck pace. For at least the next year or two, Chengdu would remain in a state where whatever it produced, it could sell — and this was no illusion, but a plain fact that everyone could see with their own eyes.

The western and southern parts of the city had already been formally designated as production zones, with some villages and populations still being relocated. Workshops of every size were either under construction or already in operation. Meanwhile, the eastern and northern parts of the city each held a massive trading district, where the raw materials the factories needed and the finished goods they produced were mostly exchanged in person. This was the pattern that had gradually taken shape around Chengdu over the course of the past year.

Because of the rapid pace of development, everything around here looked busy and somewhat chaotic, but to the people of this era, all of it was probably an unparalleled scene of prosperity and flourishing.

As for the interior of Chengdu’s old city walls, it remained, of course, the political, economic, and cultural heart of the entire Huaxia Army’s domain.

Merchants worth untold fortunes came into the city to negotiate deal after deal involving staggering sums, only leaving the city when an on-site inspection was truly necessary.

Scholars steeped in learning engaged in sharp verbal duels with one another here; the newspapers of this place carried the most well-informed news from across the entire realm, and the atmosphere of free debate was unmatched anywhere. They could sit in an inn without ever stepping outside and still broaden their understanding of the world day after day.

Wandering swordsmen from every region made sure never to miss this novel and prosperous city; even a lowly peddler passing through just once would never be content to simply stand outside the walls and leave…

Ning Ji, who hadn’t been back in nearly a year, entered the city of Chengdu after nightfall on the sixth. He could still recall so many familiar places: the little courtyard where the little cur used to live, the bustle of Yingbin Road, the little courtyard on Pingrong Road where he himself used to live — sadly blown up now — the hot pot at Songshu Pavilion, the arena where the Number One Tournament Under Heaven had been held, the little clinic where Aunt Gu worked…

Part of him wanted to walk around the city once more, to go see Aunt Gu, who was still living in the city — perhaps the little cur had suffered enough hardship out there and had come crying her way back to Chengdu. She wasn’t a bad person after all, just foolish, slow-witted, silly, weak, and unlucky — none of that was really her fault, and it certainly wasn’t a capital offense. But after thinking it over, he decided against it.

His father had rushed back to Zhang Village to deal with his own affairs, and now that those were handled, he might well come back to Chengdu too. Knowing his father’s temperament, if he caught Ning Ji here in the city, he’d probably plant his hands on his hips and roar with laughter: “You little brat, I already gave you your chance.” And setting his father aside, his elder brother and sister-in-law were just as likely to do the same. His sister-in-law especially — if she caught up with him, he’d probably be in for a beating.

This place was no different from a den of bandits.

He had to get out of this troublesome place, and quickly.

Based on his experience here last year, quite a few of the merchant caravans that came to Chengdu gathered at the market in the northeastern part of the city. Since the world beyond was far from peaceful these days, caravans making long journeys would often take on the occasional traveler heading the same way — partly to collect a bit of extra travel money, and partly because there was safety in numbers, allowing people to look out for one another on the road. Of course, on rare occasions a group might end up with a bandit’s scout mixed in among them, which usually ended badly, so caravans were often quite selective about the companions they took on.

Over the past year, Ning Ji had received plenty of training in the army that would be useful for traveling far from home, and setting out alone from Sichuan wasn’t really a problem for him. But considering that training and real-world practice weren’t quite the same thing, and that a fifteen-year-old traveling alone with a pack on his back was more likely to attract unwanted attention, he decided that for this first leg of the journey out of Sichuan, he would travel together with others.

That evening he went and bought a medicine chest, stocking it with various medicines. The next morning, doing his best to look like someone terrified of being spotted by wrongdoers, he went and signed up on the spot with a caravan that happened to be leaving that very day. By mid-morning, he had fled Chengdu, so to speak, together with this group of thirty-two pack horses and more than a hundred and thirty people…

…

“Brother, allow me — this humble one is Lu Wenke, from Hongzhou in Jiangnan Circuit. May I ask this young brother’s honored name, and where he hails from…”

The caravan, over a hundred strong, was mixed in among the crowds streaming out of Sichuan along the northeastward road. They hadn’t gone far before a tall, thin scholar with a fondness for making friends came over and cupped his hands in greeting, introducing himself.

Ning Ji was outgoing and cheerful by nature, and also fond of making friends. He cupped his hands right back. “This one is Long Aotian.”

“…What… Tian?”

“Long! Ao! Tian!” Ning Ji enunciated each syllable.

The tall, thin Lu Wenke pressed his lips together, drew a breath, and stared at him for a long moment before finally cupping his hands in admiration. “Young brother’s name truly has an air of grandeur to it.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“Where is young brother from? Where are you headed?”

“Jiangning,” Ning Ji said. “My family’s ancestral home is Jiangning. I’ve never been there before — this trip, I mean to go see it.”

“Jiangning…” Lu Wenke’s tone turned somber. “That used to be a fine place. These days… it’s rather grim, I’m afraid. After the new Emperor took the throne there, the Jurchens sacked the city and put it to fire and slaughter — it’s never recovered. And now there’s all this trouble with the Fairness Party stirring things up. I doubt there are many people left there at all…”

“It’s fine — it’s a long road ahead. By the time I get there, who knows, Jiangning might already be rebuilt.” Long Aotian laughed easily.

Lu Wenke’s whole body gave a little jolt, and he cupped his hands again in admiration. “Brother Long truly has a broad and open heart.”

The road out of Sichuan stretched on ahead, with all manner of travelers and carts crossing back and forth along it. Ahead of them walked a family of four — a husband and wife with a father who wasn’t yet too old, and a son, driving a mule, though where they were headed was anyone’s guess. Behind them, some rough-looking martial figure was chatting with one of the caravan’s armed guards, the two of them occasionally letting out lecherous chuckles — the kind of laugh that Yao Shubin used to make back on the battlefield whenever he told a dirty joke, and hearing it now gave Ning Ji a small, familiar sense of comfort.

The tall, thin scholar beside him, this Lu Wenke, turned out to be quite the talker. After exchanging a few more words, he launched into holding forth on the state of the realm, discussing all he had gained during his time in Chengdu.

“…The southwest, for all its heterodox and unorthodox ways, has proven truly remarkable beyond words in these past few months. Back in Hongzhou, I considered myself a well-read man, but seeing the Jurchens run rampant and the realm in such turmoil, I felt there was nothing left to be done. And yet, coming here to the southwest, I have seen this study of natural principles, this method of enterprise — so simple, and yet so penetrating. Having grasped these methods, when I return to Hongzhou I too may accomplish a great deal. Brother Long, the world is truly wide and open before us — wide and open, Brother Long!”

“Admirable, truly admirable — well said, well said…” Long Aotian cupped his hands in reply, full of admiration.

This road ahead held many places familiar to Ning Ji. It led on toward Zizhou, and beyond Zizhou, past Wangyuan Bridge, into the mountains before Jianmen Pass — mountains where he and the men of the Huaxia Army had once fought the Jurchens in bloody battle at one strongpoint after another. That place was the final resting ground of countless heroes — though it was also the resting ground of no small number of Jurchen invaders. But even if there were ghosts and spirits there, the victors had never had any reason to fear them.

Farther on, once they passed through Jianmen Pass, the land beyond was unknown to Ning Ji. Mist rolled thick out there, or perhaps the sky and land would open wide as well — either way, he found himself full of anticipation for whatever lay ahead.

…

At that very same moment, the great villain Ning Yi — from whom the young hero Long Aotian was fleeing — was in Leshan, tending to concerns over Lin Jingwei’s injuries.

This elderly man, though not especially gifted when it came to research itself, had been, ever since the days of Xiaocang River, the most outstanding administrator under Ning Yi, someone who kept the research work running in perfect order. Now, having suffered extensive burns and injuries from the explosion of a prototype steam engine boiler, he was locked in a difficult struggle against death itself.

Thousands of li away, a certain young Emperor — who, had he been born into the Huaxia Army instead, would surely have envied Lin Jingwei’s position — had already received gifts sent from the southwest, and had begun building an office of natural studies with more complete functions than before. Along the southeastern coast, the new Emperor’s reforms were bold and forceful, but of course, he too was facing troubles of his own — problems that had begun, slowly but surely, to come into the light…