It was drawing close to the dead of night, the hour when ordinary shops would normally have closed for the day. But up in Gaofu Tower the lamps still burned with a hazy glow — an important meeting was taking place here.

“…There’s no question of whether it should or shouldn’t. In the long run, it’s always a good thing for the court to take maritime shipping seriously. The four seas are vast, and once you leave this patch of ground beneath our feet, natural disasters and misfortune can claim a life at any moment. Short of throwing caution to the wind entirely, the only thing that keeps people alive out there a couple more days is a sturdy ship and good cannon. You should all remember the events of the third year of Jinghan, when the Emperor built treasure ships and sent envoys to the four corners of the world, bringing the barbarian tribes to submission. Not long after, the treasure-ship techniques leaked out, and a few scapegoats were executed here in the southeast for it — but the benefits of that technology, well, quite a few of us sitting right here at this table profited from it.”

“The Jinghan court’s capital was in Bianliang — heaven was high and the Emperor far away, so a few scapegoats sufficed back then. But today…” “And besides, this new sovereign’s manner is nothing at all like that Emperor’s.”

“Ever since the new Emperor arrived, he’s been fighting for the people’s hearts and seizing power, sharpening his blades, so to speak. Now that the next step is supposedly to march north and return to Lin’an, why the sudden interest in maritime trade? Does he genuinely mean to head out to sea, or is this just an attempt to squeeze us for money?”

“Is the young Emperor short on funds?” Wang Yikui, the last to be seated, finally spoke up, his tone icy.

“The court is always short on funds, no matter the era,” said the old Confucian scholar Tian Haoran.

Gao Fulai said, “Ever since the new sovereign arrived in Fuzhou, promoting natural studies, founding newspapers, and carrying out new policies, and now most recently calling for ‘honoring the sovereign and expelling the barbarians’ — he’s offended half of the great clans who once stood firmly on the side of legitimacy. Those who still have their hearts set on the Wu dynasty are scattered too far away to reach this corner of the southeast coast. But in and around Fuzhou city, the ones who have supported him most consistently have always been us, the maritime merchants. From last year to now, my own Gao family alone has contributed over eight hundred thousand taels of silver to the court, one way or another, and I’d wager none of you here have given much less.”

He paused. “The new sovereign’s strength is a blessing to all his people — now that the likes of Wu Qimei and Tie Yan have knelt before the Jurchen dogs and occupied Lin’an, we, the subjects of the Wu dynasty, cannot bear to stand by and watch. If he needs money for the war, he need only say so. But as things stand now, it looks to me like sheer stubbornness is the real problem here…”

Tian Haoran shook his head. “Brother Gao is overthinking this. The reason the Emperor is behaving this way has everything to do with the fact that we are merchants. The court wants to divide power away from the scholar-officials, and to do that, it needs to shout slogans about ‘honoring the sovereign and expelling the barbarians.’ To seize profit from the hands of merchants, there’s no precedent for negotiation. And besides, the new sovereign has only recently taken the throne, and everything he’s faced so far has been war and slaughter — it’s a young man’s habit to take a direct approach. But while the Emperor himself may act directly, the people around him shouldn’t be doing the same. If you ask me, in the end this still comes down to treacherous ministers stirring up trouble at his side.”

Gao Fulai smiled. “Here in this room, the rest of us calling ourselves merchants is one thing — but has the Tian family, generations of scholars and books, now also decided to count itself among the merchant class?”

Tian Haoran stroked his half-white beard and laughed as well. “To the outside world we present ourselves as a family of scholars for generations, but our business has grown so large by now that people already regard the Tian family as merchants anyway. Truth be told, Fuzhou sits off in a corner of the southeast — back in the day we couldn’t even produce a top examination candidate from here, so rather than bury our heads in books, it made more sense to go into trade. Had I known the Wu dynasty would relocate south, old man that I am, I might never have sat down at the same table as you all.”

When the old man finished speaking, the others all burst out laughing. After a moment, Gao Fulai’s smile faded and his expression turned serious. “Brother Tian is too modest. Of all of us here, you have the most friends at court — ministers of every department, even the Left Chancellor himself, are guests at your table. This talk of treacherous ministers stirring up trouble — who exactly do you mean?”

Tian Haoran shook his head. “The various ministers and chancellors currently in office are all old servants of the court — they followed the dragon boat out to sea and watched the new Emperor ascend the throne, and they have the merit of having been there from the very beginning. But in the Emperor’s eyes, that may amount to little more than dutiful service without much credit. The new sovereign is young and given to radical impulses, and he doesn’t much care for the cautious, measured words of the old ministers. He’s always preferred, in private, to rely on younger people — people from the Princess Imperial’s own household, as you all well know. It’s simply that these people lack seniority and don’t yet have much of a reputation, and that’s why the chancellorships ended up going to the old ministers instead.”

“And now, as Brother Gao already said, the Huaxia Army has sent over a bunch of young hotheads — even younger still — who’ve won the Emperor’s favor, going into the palace every day to hold forth on affairs of state and fill his head with all manner of seductive nonsense. These are people trained by that devil Ning from the southwest — do you really think they mean us any good? It’s such an obvious point, and yet the Emperor can’t see it, having been bewitched by them — that’s exactly why these rumors are circulating today. Brother Gao, wouldn’t you say that’s the truth of it?”

“Just so.” Gao Fulai nodded. “Now that the new sovereign holds Fuzhou, what the whole realm is waiting on is for him to sharpen his blades and march back to retake Lin’an. If that can be accomplished within a year or two, the foundations of the Wu dynasty will still stand. But now these young hotheads from the Huaxia Army have come and bewitched the Emperor into caring about maritime trade… In the long run, there’s money to be made at sea, sure — but in the short term, it’s nothing but pouring money and manpower into a hole. And within two or three years, once fighting breaks out at sea, no one will be able to do business at all. If you ask me, the Black Banner’s real intent is to drag the Emperor down and exhaust him here in Fuzhou.”

As he said “once fighting breaks out at sea,” his eyes flicked toward Wang Yikui across the table, then slid away again.

“So there are really two possibilities here. First — either the Emperor really has been bewitched and genuinely means to stick a foot into maritime affairs, in which case, having already offended the officials, then the gentry, he’s now about to offend the maritime merchants too. If that’s the case, I’d say the Wu dynasty is in real peril, and we cannot simply sit back and watch… Or, the second possibility — His Majesty is short of funds and too embarrassed to ask directly, and is instead looking to shake us down a bit. In that case… gentlemen, we’ll simply have to put up the money and settle this matter quietly.”

The others exchanged glances, and the room fell silent for a moment. Pu Annan was the first to speak. “When the new Emperor came to Fuzhou, we never once stood in his way. Once he arrived, we contributed money and effort freely — those first few hundred thousand taels, I didn’t mind at all. But looking at things now, was that money perhaps spent for nothing? After giving so much, does the Emperor now turn around and say he means to dig up our very roots?”

“When the nation is in trouble, contributing some money is only right,” said Shang Bingchun. “But having spent the money, we can’t just let it go without some result to show for it.”

“Spending money is one thing — but if His Majesty is truly set on getting involved in maritime trade, what then?” Gao Fulai tapped his teacup lightly against its saucer, making a soft clicking sound.

Wang Yikui, who had remained largely silent, looked around at the others. “This is your territory, gentlemen. If the Emperor really means to get involved, he’ll surely seek someone out to discuss it first — shouldn’t you try having someone talk him out of it beforehand?”

“If the Emperor really does come knocking to discuss it in person, then there’s no talking him out of anything. None of us merchants would dare refuse him to his face…” Tian Haoran drew a finger across his own throat.

“The Emperor’s been chased all the way down to the southeast — and he can still act like this?”

“Can’t speak for the emperors before him, but this one… doesn’t seem to be afraid of offending people.”

At this point the five of them fell quiet, some fidgeting with their teacups, others tracing their fingers along the tabletop. After a while, it was Gao Fulai who spoke again. “I have an idea.”

Tian Haoran, Shang Bingchun, and Pu Annan raised their teacups; Wang Yikui simply watched in silence.

“Whether the court’s interest in maritime trade is real or not, sooner or later word of it will reach us officially. Once that message comes down from above, if we say no at that point, we’ll certainly cause offense. The old ministers at court will be the ones doing the persuading up there — down here, we need to be mentally prepared in advance. My thinking is… we should be willing to spend up to a certain amount to settle this matter cleanly.”

As he spoke, he held up his right hand and wiggled its five fingers.

“Fifty thousand?”

“Five hundred thousand.”

“That much, just because we got a little spooked?”

“If the court is only looking to shake us down, then simply handing over money is treating the symptom, not the cause. Treating the symptom only calms things on the surface — the real solution is to remove the firewood from under the pot. Brother Shang wants results for his money, and Brother Tian says there are treacherous men at court — so what we’re really paying out today is money to save lives.”

Gao Fulai’s gaze swept over the others. “When the new sovereign settled in Fuzhou, we alone threw our full support behind him, while the great clans all had their hands out waiting for benefits from the court, and only we were the ones putting money into it. It might look, in truth, as though we’ve been a bit too soft about it — and that’s exactly why, without so much as a word of warning, they’re now coming straight for us. Since that’s the case, it really is time to change that impression, before they actually come knocking on our door. We can donate money — but we cannot let a man live.”

The others exchanged glances. Tian Haoran said, “Without the scheming of certain interested parties, His Majesty’s inclination toward this would surely fade considerably.”

“That man Ning from the southwest killed the Wu dynasty’s own Emperor — the subjects of the Wu dynasty share an undying hatred for him,” said Pu Annan. “For his people to swagger in here so openly today, anyone truly loyal to the Wu dynasty would want nothing more than to see them dead. If something were to happen to them, it would hardly be surprising.”

“Though Master Pu came from a foreign land, his devotion to our Wu dynasty is remarkably sincere and admirable.”

“My family has lived here for generations now. I myself grew up in the Wu dynasty from childhood — I am, in every real sense, a subject of the Wu dynasty, and it’s only right that my heart belongs to it. I’ll have this five hundred thousand taels ready.”

The group drank their tea and chatted a while longer. Shang Bingchun then asked, “And if, even after all this, the matter still isn’t resolved — what then?”

“Then we pack our things, head out to sea, and hold the trade routes together with the Dragon King, and fight the court for three years if we have to. Better to go three years without profit than let the court get so much as a taste of victory — spread that word around, let them know just how ruthless we men of the sea can be…” Gao Fulai set down his teacup. “…when we’re pushed to it!”

Beneath the night sky, a mournful sea wind blew through the streets of Fuzhou.

Close to midnight, a carriage rolled through the city streets of Fuzhou, heading toward the imperial garden in the northwest corner of the city.

This garden, located within the city walls, was not far from the bustling heart of Fuzhou. After Junwu took Fuzhou, many sections of it had been parceled out to officials as offices. Though the night had grown late, lights could still be seen burning in a number of places beyond the garden walls. The carriage stopped by a side gate, and Zuo Xiuquan stepped down, walked into the garden, and after a while arrived at a place called the Wenhan Institute.

The Wenhan Institute had originally served as a repository for the imperial library and various rare antiques and curios. It consisted of three two-story buildings, surrounded by gardens and ponds, the scenery quite beautiful. At this hour, the main hall’s doors stood wide open, lights burning inside. Long tables had been pushed together to form a lively work area, with some of the young people still bent over their desks, writing and processing documents. Zuo Xiuquan greeted them as he passed.

“Still not resting? Where’s Jiazhen?”

After asking where Zuo Wenhuai was, he went to look for him on the second floor of the nearby small building, exchanging a greeting or two with several other young people along the way.

The group of young people who had come from the southwest numbered more than forty in all, led by Zuo Wenhuai — though of course, not all of them were children of the Zuo family. Over the years, the Huaxia Army had fought its way from the northwest to the southwest, and most of its participants were committed “revolutionaries.” But there were always some among them who came from different family backgrounds and did not entirely harbor hostility toward the Wu dynasty’s new sovereign, and so this particular contingent included some members with clan backgrounds of their own. There were also others who had come simply out of curiosity, or to observe.

The journey of several thousand li from the southwest to Fuzhou, escorting supplies from the southwest along the way, had been no easy trip. Though they had relied on the Zuo family’s standing to travel with the convenience of a few major merchant caravans, they had still run into several dangerous situations along the way. It was precisely during these moments of danger that Zuo Xiuquan had witnessed just how ferocious this group of young people could be when facing real combat — having been tempered through the series of battles in the southwest, these already sharp-minded battlefield survivors had each been forged into a weapon in their own right. Their resolve held firm in the face of chaos, and in Zuo Xiuquan’s eyes, more than a few of them showed a battlefield instinct that surpassed that of many a Wu dynasty general.

In truth, Ning Yi had never shown any special favoritism toward these elite soldiers with a basic education, like Zuo Wenhuai — nor was there really any room for such favoritism. This time, after a thorough selection process, they had been sent out as a group; many of them had no prior superior-subordinate relationship with one another, nor any experience working as partners. It was the several thousand li of travel, and the tense situations they’d faced along the way, that had allowed them to work each other in and come to understand one another — by the time they reached Fuzhou, they were essentially functioning as a single team.

They had arrived in Fuzhou in April, bringing with them the southwest’s system of natural studies and a great deal of hard-won experience. But of course, that experience could hardly be integrated wholesale into Fuzhou’s existing systems through a few “secret manuals.” Especially since, unlike with the region of Jin, Ning Yi had not sent Fuzhou a large team of dedicated professional teachers and technical staff, which made the initial planning for reform in each field all the more critical.

Every member of the team with any background in natural studies had been drafted into organizing materials and discussing and drawing up plans in their particular area of expertise — what a given thing looked like in the southwest, why it worked that way, what could be borrowed from it, which areas could be reformed and which could not, which problems were human problems and which were problems of funding… In recent days, the Wu dynasty side, led by Wenren Buer, had held a great many meetings and discussions with the group, and these young people had been working late into the night, day after day.

Having traveled several thousand li from the southwest and shared hardship along the way, Zuo Xiuquan had grown familiar with most of these young people by now. As a representative of a great clan loyal to the Wu dynasty, watching these exceptionally talented young people shine under every kind of test filled him with both excitement and reassurance. But at the same time, he couldn’t help thinking that this group of young people, standing before him, likely held all manner of differing views internally — even Zuo Wenhuai, a son of the Zuo family, probably didn’t think entirely in line with the Zuo family’s own interests, let alone the others.

Ning Yi, far away in the southwest, had casually tossed over this group of more than forty young seeds, and it seemed clear that, sooner or later, they would grow into figures capable of holding their own in any position. On the surface, they appeared to have simply brought the southwest’s various experiences to Fuzhou — but what role would they actually come to play, in the future, within the Wu dynasty court? The thought gave Zuo Xiuquan a faint, persistent headache.

Of course, things had only just begun; it wasn’t yet time to worry too much about such matters. He made his way up to the second floor nearby, where Zuo Wenhuai and the team’s deputy Xiao Jingyi were climbing down from the rooftop, apparently discussing something about “watching the shift changes.” The two greeted him, and Xiao Jingyi excused himself on the pretext of preparing a late-night snack. Zuo Wenhuai led Zuo Xiuquan to a nearby study, poured a cup of tea, and the two began to talk business.

“…I’ve been away from Fuzhou for a while, and I only just got back. I heard some things tonight, so I came straight here… I hear that recently you’ve suggested to His Majesty that natural studies should be directed toward maritime trade? And that His Majesty has actually taken a real interest in the idea?”

After the sweeping reforms of the Fuzhou court, many of the great clans had had their feelings hurt, but there remained no shortage of old Confucian scholars and clan members who had received generations of imperial favor and were still wavering in their loyalties. On this front, the Zuo family had always been the Fuzhou court’s most effective persuaders. Since returning to Fuzhou, Zuo Xiuquan had once again been out making the rounds, and it was only now, on his return, that he’d learned things had changed.

At this question, Zuo Wenhuai broke into a somewhat gentler smile. “Master Ning used to pay a great deal of attention to this area. I merely mentioned it in passing — I never expected His Majesty would actually take it seriously.”

Zuo Xiuquan looked at him, brow furrowing slightly.

At first glance, this nephew of his seemed soft and easily pushed around, but after months of traveling together, he had come to truly understand that behind that smiling face lay a mind that was, in fact, quite ruthless and decisive. He might not yet fully understand the customs of officialdom here, having only just arrived, but in a setting as delicate as an audience before the Emperor, there was no such thing as “merely mentioning something in passing.”

Seeing his uncle’s expression, the smile on Zuo Wenhuai’s face shifted slightly. “The reforms here in Fuzhou have gone too far, and we don’t have many allies. To sustain any real position, we need to consider large-scale new sources of revenue. Marching north right now may not be the wisest move — the larger our territory grows, the more the cost of carrying reform through will multiply, and the court will have no choice but to increase harsh taxes, which will only bring misery to the people and ultimately destroy itself. Given our position in the southeast, the only real large-scale source of new revenue is maritime trade.”

“Maritime trade comes with several major problems,” Zuo Xiuquan said. “First, His Majesty has publicly declared his intent to march north and retake Lin’an — that can be delayed for a year or two, but the longer it drags on, the more those currently on our side will gradually drift away. Second, maritime trade isn’t something one or two people can master in a day or two — if we’re going to pursue this path to new revenue, how long before it bears fruit? Every maritime route along the southeast coast already has its own established merchant power. One misstep, and dealing with them could drag on endlessly — which would sap morale for the northward campaign on one hand, and leave the trade routes still unopened on the other. The problems could well grow worse…”

“We’ve considered all of this too, Uncle. But have you considered what His Majesty’s determination to push through these reforms is truly for?” Zuo Wenhuai looked at him, then paused briefly. “In the past, the great clans meddled in everything, trying to plant their own people throughout the court. Now, facing troubles both within and without, truly unable to go on as before, His Majesty has finally declared his intent to ‘honor the sovereign and expel the barbarians.’ That is the first principle behind this round of reform — use whatever tools are at hand as well as they can be used, and don’t dwell too much on what can’t be grasped.”

“…Our Zuo family has been persuading various parties, trying to get those who still trust the court to contribute money and effort in support of His Majesty. If some are willing, that’s good. But for those who can’t be persuaded — should we really try to meet their expectations? In my humble opinion, right now, the vague and uncertain support of these great clans isn’t worth placing too much weight on. To satisfy their expectations, march back to Lin’an, rally the realm with a single call to arms, and rely on whatever support follows to defeat He Wen — not to mention that this underestimates both He Wen and the Fairness Party, the whole plan, when you play it out, is simply far too idealistic…”

“…The future belongs to elite, well-trained armies, Uncle. I spent time in the southwest, and I know that the single biggest obstacle to training such an army will be money. In the past, when the court ruled jointly with the scholar-officials, the great clans reached their hands into both the army and the court, boasting of million-man armies at the drop of a hat — while they padded the payroll with ghost soldiers, supported the army in name while actually using it to line their own pockets… To cut off their hands, the court needs to control its own money. The old way of doing things simply doesn’t work anymore — solving this is the very heart of the reform.”

“…As for the second point you raised, Uncle — the court currently has two fleets sitting idle, and while it’s said there’s no talent to man them, in truth the old navy was never short of men experienced at sea. And besides, if the court prioritizes maritime trade, in the long run it benefits everyone who makes their living from the sea. Some merchants think short-term, others think long-term — if the court makes a decisive call, it may well be able to strike a wedge and divide them. Master Ning once said that conservatives are not fundamentally terrified of reform itself — what they truly fear, at bottom, is losing their own interests…”

Zuo Wenhuai spoke without raising his voice, but clearly and logically, holding forth at length — a completely different man from the somewhat green, tongue-tied figure he sometimes presented at court.

After he’d gone on like this for a while, Zuo Xiuquan said, “But have you considered that, given your identities — after all, you people came from the Huaxia Army — the very first reform proposal you put forward here is bound to seem highly unusual to others? Before long, people will start saying you were deliberately sent by Master Ning to spread confusion and undermine the rise of the true Wu dynasty succession, that you’re spies… Once that kind of talk takes hold, every reform you try to carry out afterward may end up twice the effort for half the result.”

At this point Zuo Wenhuai paused for a moment, taken slightly aback. He lowered his head in thought, and when he raised it again, there was a chilling glint of killing intent flashing in his eyes.

“Uncle,” he said, “we are young men. Everything we’ve learned these past years in the southwest — natural studies, critical thinking, reform — but at the end of the day, what we’ve studied most, above all else, is how to go to the battlefield and kill our enemies!”

His words carried a palpable air of menace, and after he finished, the room fell silent. After a while, Zuo Wenhuai spoke again. “Of course, having only just arrived, there are naturally a good many things we haven’t fully considered. But in terms of overall direction, we still believe this approach should serve us better. His Majesty’s Institute of Natural Studies has many craftsmen — only some of them are needed to replicate the southwest’s technology, while the rest exploring the direction of maritime trade seems like the right allocation.”

“Honestly, the fact that you’ve thought this far through is already impressive. Truth be told, some things really are as you say, Jiazhen — maintaining everyone’s confidence is icing on the cake at best, and putting too much weight on it can end up costing more than it’s worth,” Zuo Xiuquan said with a smile. “Still, public opinion can be a fearsome thing, and it’s worth considering when the moment calls for it. That said, hearing you speak of killing enemies just now genuinely moved me — that’s exactly the spirit you young people need, and it’s exactly what the Wu dynasty needs right now too. As for managing public opinion, leave that to us old men going forward. Since you’ve thought it through clearly, focus on getting the work done. Of course, don’t lose your caution either — keep thinking things through carefully at every turn.”

“Yes, Uncle. I’m grateful for your guidance and your care.”

Zuo Xiuquan stood, let out a faint sigh, and patted Zuo Wenhuai on the shoulder. Both were men of firm conviction, and though they couldn’t fully convince each other in the moment, each was willing to give a little ground. For a man like Zuo Xiuquan, seeing genuine talent emerge from within his own family filled him, even amid temporary disagreements, mostly with pride and reassurance.

As the two walked out together, their conversation turned to ordinary family matters. On the way down the stairs, Zuo Xiuquan patted his shoulder and said, “There are still hidden sentries posted up on the roof, you know.”

“We haven’t been here long — old habits, I suppose,” Zuo Wenhuai said with a smile.

“Now that you’re here, His Majesty holds all of you in very high regard. The Zuo family’s influence is watching this place too. You’re among family now — no need to be quite so vigilant. Don’t wear them out.”

“Understood,” Zuo Wenhuai nodded, smiling as he acknowledged his elder’s words.

In the small hours of the morning, within the Fuzhou imperial palace, Tie Tianying walked along the eaves, making his rounds.

In the imperial study, the lamps were still burning.

When Zhou Pei arrived with a maid carrying a lantern, she found Junwu in his nightclothes, a writing brush in one hand and an oil lamp raised in the other, studying the map of the southeast on the wall. On the desk lay a half-finished letter.

“Your Majesty, it’s getting late. You should rest.”

“There’s still more I need to write.” Junwu didn’t turn around, still holding up the oil lamp, his eyes fixed on a corner of the map. After a long while, he finally spoke. “If we’re going to open up the sea routes, I’ve been thinking these past few days about where best to break through… Master Ning in the southwest once spoke of a spider’s web — reform, he said, is a matter of pressing on some point of that web. No matter where you go, someone will try to hold you back for the sake of their own interests. Those who have a stake in things will resist change as long as they can — that’s just how the world works. But yesterday it occurred to me — if I truly make up my mind, perhaps I can resolve the matter of Guangzhou next.”

Zhou Pei frowned slightly, and then her eyes brightened.

Junwu, still holding the lamp aloft, went on: “Ever since we settled here in Fuzhou, our territory has been small — south only as far as Quanzhou — and most of what supports us can’t be brought in. This past year, we’ve kept squeezing Guangzhou for what we need, and we’ve asked for quite a lot. Didn’t Sister mention recently that they’re starting to have thoughts of their own?”

“Over the past two months, a few shiploads of goods reportedly met with ‘accidents.’ We still haven’t managed to get to the bottom of exactly what happened.”

“Our Wu dynasty has, after all, lost the entire realm. Taking back Fuzhou delighted the merchants here, but for those far off in Guangzhou, their interests were bound to suffer. Liu Fuming has held Guangzhou for us, steadily sending supplies our way — diligent and conscientious, by any measure. But to the merchants and common people of Guangzhou, this so-called shared hardship of the times must feel little different from being squeezed dry. If we’re going to promote maritime trade this time, using the strength of the Institute to improve our ships and fit them with the southwest’s new cannon, and then opening it up to Guangzhou’s own maritime merchants, we could form a genuine alignment of interests with Guangzhou. And then, we might truly gain… more territory…”

Zhou Pei looked at him quietly, nodded, then asked softly, “Are you truly certain? You want to go this route?”

All the endless weighing of pros and cons ultimately had to settle on some grand direction in the end. Whether to march north to Lin’an or set their sights on the sea — once the choice was made, it could well set two entirely different courses in motion. Junwu set down the oil lamp and, for a moment, said nothing. Then, after a while, he raised his eyes to look out at the night sky beyond the door, his brow furrowing slightly.

Somewhere in the distance, a commotion seemed to be stirring.

“…Is there a fire in the city?”

The temporary palace grounds were not large, and being situated on high ground, one could sense disturbances from far off. Since something might have happened within the city, the palace guards were already being mobilized. Before long, Tie Tianying arrived to report.

“Your Majesty… the Wenhan Institute has been attacked by bandits, and a fire has broken out…”

Junwu froze for a moment. “…What?”

“The Wenhan Institute has been attacked. I’ve already dispatched nearby guards to the scene. Reports say there’s fighting inside and a fire has broken out — casualties are still unclear…”

With a loud crack, Junwu’s fist slammed down on the desk, the bloodshot lines in his eyes — the result of too many sleepless nights — standing out with sudden clarity.

“Bring my sword, bring my armor — I’m leaving the palace.”

“The situation is still unclear, Your Majesty. It isn’t wise for you to move yet.”

“Don’t be rash—”

Tie Tianying and Zhou Pei both rushed to stop him.

Throughout the city of Fuzhou, many people were jolted awake from their sleep, the night sky seeming to catch fire. The blaze at the Wenhan Institute lit the fuse for a whole series of struggles that would follow in the southeast…