In the ancient courtyard of Ankang, the afternoon sun spilled down, and a breeze passed through carrying a faint fishy scent. Dai Mengwei spoke slowly of the state of the realm, and beside him, a gleam of understanding gradually rose in Lu Zhongming’s eyes.

“The Fairness Party… He Wen… they claim to have come out of the Southwest, but whether He Wen and the Southwest are truly of one mind is hard to say. And even if He Wen himself holds the Southwest in some regard, even shows some respect for Mr. Ning, the Fairness Party at this point — including He Wen — has only five men who can actually speak with any real authority. Beneath them, they’ve driven the common people to serve as soldiers, and the quality varies wildly. That’s precisely where the crack, the vulnerability, lies…”

“Look at Zou Xu in the Central Plains — when he was in Xuzhou, he’d absorbed no more than a few tens of thousands of troops. Once Liu Chengzong took the main force to Liangshan, Zou Xu grew ambitious and set himself up independently. The Fairness Party numbers in the millions — how could they possibly share one heart with the Southwest’s Black Banner? It’s only that after the Black Banner defeated the Jurchens, its reputation soared, and the Fairness Party has been borrowing that name to accomplish its own ends. On the surface they play along with the muddle, without ever breaking it open…”

“In today’s world, the Southwest’s troops are strong and its horses fierce — it holds the reins of the moment, beyond question. But who, among those able to raise a banner and stand independent, doesn’t harbor at least a shred of ambition? The Jin region and the Southwest may look close and affectionate, but does anyone really think that Lady Chancellor Lou could truly become the pillow-companion of someone’s inner demons? It’s nothing more than idle gossip among the bored… And in the southeast, in Fuzhou, since His Majesty ascended the throne he’s shown fierce determination to revive the dynasty. On the surface, word has it he shares some old bond of friendship with that Ning Liheng — but if one day he truly manages to revive the Wu Dynasty, would there really be anyone, between him and the Black Banner, willing to step aside first?”

“The Black Banner stands first in this world; everyone else seeks merely to gain a foothold, and once they’ve gained that foothold, they seek second place. And once someone truly becomes second, they must face the problem of confronting the Black Banner. Within the Fairness Party, the moment there’s the slightest divided loyalty, this is the hurdle they cannot get past.”

“This disciple understands,” Lu Zhongming said, thoroughly convinced.

Dai Mengwei continued walking. “He’s opened his door, holding this heroes’ gathering — we ought to go and show our support. However vile the Fairness Party may be, surely even they wouldn’t strike at a smiling face who’s come to pay respects, not at a time like this. And so long as there’s a possibility of cooperation down the road, this is the moment to meet, to talk. And as for this heroes’ gathering — however much it might draw mockery in the moment, if you settle your mind and think it through, everyone in this world will come to understand: this is an opportunity. On the Fairness Party’s own turf, you won’t run into only Fairness Party members. This old man believes that anyone with long-term vision, anyone who worries about the Southwest, won’t want to miss this gathering.”

Lu Zhongming nodded. “The martial contest on the surface is a small matter — what truly matters, what will shape the future, is who goes there quietly, behind the scenes.”

“This affair calls for adaptability; the balance is delicate, which is exactly why only you, leading the group, would put my mind at ease,” Dai Mengwei said with a smile. “Once you’re there, look closely — it wouldn’t surprise me if even the Jin region’s Lady Chancellor, who gets along so well with the Southwest, has quietly sent people of her own. Now that would be interesting.”

“This disciple will do his utmost to probe the true strength beneath the Fairness Party’s five leaders. As Master says, with millions under their banner, there are bound to be plenty worth winning over,” said Lu Zhongming. “It’s only that with the great battle approaching, the matter of supplies at the rear is most sensitive of all. If this disciple leaves now, I’m afraid among the other senior brothers and sisters, there aren’t many skilled with numbers…”

Dai Mengwei’s side had already gone hungry for a full year, and having finally managed to grow something, sending troops into the Central Plains counted as an all-or-nothing gamble. And yet, at the same time, every last measure of grain in the rear had to be scraped together — to keep the front lines supplied smoothly required, on one hand, vigorously rooting out embezzlement and reining in the various factions within the army, and on the other, staying constantly ready to suppress unrest in the rear. On top of that, the entire system of collecting and transporting grain was itself a massive undertaking that tested one’s competence to the extreme — if whoever held that position harbored even the slightest self-interest, it could ultimately threaten Dai Mengwei’s entire power base.

“I’ll oversee the grain collection myself for a while. I understand your concerns — there’s no need to worry,” Dai Mengwei said. “Besides, I’ve made new arrangements for the front lines. Within a year, we’ll take Bian Liang — I’m already seventy or eighty percent confident of that. When you go east and speak with people on important matters, you may use this as your premise.”

“Has something changed significantly at the front?”

“That’s not something I can say much about right now. You’re going to Jiangning — for now I won’t tell you too many details, just watch quietly for yourself… There is, however, one other matter, related to this trip of yours, that I need to explain to you first…”

Master and disciple continued speaking as they passed through the long corridor beneath the eaves. Meanwhile, some of the rivers-and-lakes heroes who had taken part in the previous night’s fighting, and rested briefly that morning, had already arrived at the main hall of the courtyard, gathering within.

Many among this group had once been unruly, headstrong figures of the rivers and lakes, but under Dai Mengwei’s courteous treatment they had been brought together, and over the past several months, shaped and tempered by his sense of righteous cause, they had shed some of their old selfish habits. By now they had developed something of the air of true cooperation — even the top handful of great heroes among them could meet one another warmly and exchange greetings, and once assembled and formed into ranks, they no longer resembled the disorganized rabble they once had been.

The afternoon sun poured into the courtyard; before long, Dai Mengwei and Lu Zhongming, master and disciple, walked in as well.

The old man, hailed as the Sage of the Present Age, first raised his cane and bowed warmly to the assembled crowd, praising their hard work the previous night and mourning the heroes who had died. He then had the leaders — Wei He, Chen Bian, Qiu Changying, and a few others — take their seats.

“…What’s happened recently reminds this old man of a hero I made the acquaintance of last year. Many of you here have likely heard of him, or perhaps even knew him personally. His name was Xu Yuanzong, a master of the spear from Hankou — he could strike a fly out of the air from more than a zhang away with his spear, never missing. Master Chen crossed spears with him once, and no doubt remembers it well.”

Chen Bian bowed in return. “Brother Xu… died at the hands of a demon. A pity, but also a glorious death…”

“That, in truth, was this old man’s own fault.” Dai Mengwei looked out over the assembled crowd, sorrow showing in his eyes. “At the time, I had only just taken over the chaos of this region, and many matters were still handled without much order. Hearing there was such a hero in Hankou, I wrote to invite him here. At the time… I understood little of the heroes of the rivers and lakes. Knowing only that his martial skill was formidable, and with the Southwest about to hold its great gathering, I asked him to go, as Elder Zhou once had, to carry out an assassination there. Hero Xu went willingly and gladly — yet every time I recall this, it remains a grave mistake on my part.”

“Hero Xu sought benevolence and found it — how could that be Lord Dai’s fault?”

Voices rose in the hall: “That’s right — Hero Xu died for a righteous cause, just as Elder Zhou did before him…”

“If there’s any fault, it lies with the Southwest…”

“May that demon meet a wretched end…”

At this, Dai Mengwei waved a hand. “Hero Xu sought benevolence and found it — that was the act of a true hero. But this old man’s fault was the narrowness of his thinking back then. All of you once lived scattered across this land, practicing martial arts and building your strength — whether counted as good men or common ruffians, there was nothing wrong in that. But over this past year, you have given your strength for the sake of the nation and its people — and that makes you no longer mere ruffians or common men. You should be called men of the nation.”

He went on: “All of you here have set aside old grudges, set aside the old rivalries between schools and factions, communicating and exchanging freely with one another — and so we have the scene before us today. This old man has spent his whole life reading, and yet it’s only now that I’ve come to understand what use a man of the nation truly has. When Xu Yuanzong answered my request back then, he went to his righteous death without hesitation — he was a man of the nation. But had this old man not been quite so ignorant, and kept him here instead, to exchange skills and understanding with all of you, perhaps even to train worthy successors, then the good he might have done would have far outweighed dying for a cause in the Southwest. Just like those clownish, disorganized rabble from yesterday — however much reckless courage they might muster for a moment, in the end they could accomplish nothing. Xu Yuanzong was a hero; this old man was ignorant and foolish. I think of it often, and am ashamed beyond words.”

Having said this, he raised his teacup and poured the tea out onto the ground. The crowd exchanged glances, each moved in their heart, and for a moment fell silent, lowering their heads, unable to find words to say.

Setting down his cup, after a moment of silence, Dai Mengwei said, “All of you are men of the nation, and so you should be put to use where it matters most. To simply keep you here at my side, protecting this old, worn-out man — that’s truly not fitting…”

Chen Bian was about to speak, but Dai Mengwei raised a hand to forestall him. “But today, there’s a matter that has stirred up a great deal of noise, quite a grand affair — this old man thinks the time has come for all of you to make a name for yourselves, openly and honorably… I imagine you’ve all heard of it by now — the heroes’ gathering soon to be held in Jiangning.”

At this, the crowd exchanged glances, some clearly hesitant. After a moment, Wei He and the others spoke up, echoing much the same sentiment — that the Jiangning heroes’ gathering was just He Wen aping someone else’s idea, somewhat laughable, and besides, with the great battle across the river approaching, they’d rather go to the front and earn merit fighting the enemy than waste time on that.

Dai Mengwei laughed, first praising the group’s resolve, then went on: “…But going to Jiangning serves two purposes. On one hand, all of you can openly and rightfully represent our side and make a name for yourselves there. On the other hand, you’ll be carrying this old man’s goodwill, bringing a proposal to the heroes of this world.”

The old man said, “Since ancient times, the men of the rivers and lakes have held low status — and yet, whenever the nation has faced ruin, it has always been such common men, rising up on nothing but hot blood, who have defended hearth and home. Since the Wu Dynasty’s founding, the world’s regard for martial artists has risen somewhat, but the truth is, whether it’s the Southwest’s World’s Number One Martial Arts Tournament, or this so-called heroes’ gathering about to rise up in Jiangning — both are nothing more than performances staged by those in power for their own reputation, at most a way to recruit a few common men as soldiers.”

“This old man, though a man of letters, was deeply moved by what happened with Xu Yuanzong. This sort of tournament, gathering three or five hundred, or three or five thousand men together to fight over who ranks first — this old man has no interest in putting on such a show. This old man wants to build something truly belonging to all of you, the martial artists of this world.”

In the hall, the old man looked over the assembled heroes and paused briefly. “As all the world now knows, our northern campaign is imminent, aimed at the old capital of Bian Liang. Should this great battle fail to bear fruit, then of course all of this is moot. But if we truly succeed in reclaiming Bian Liang, and once the aftermath is settled and rebuilding begins, I will support all of you in establishing the largest martial arts assembly this world has ever seen, there in Bian Liang.”

“This assembly won’t be about putting on a performance and then getting shoved into the army — it will be meant to gather the heroes of this world together, to communicate, to exchange, to improve — just as all of you have done here, raising each other up, no longer bound by excessive rivalries between schools. It will let your skills be put to true use, resisting the Jurchens, defeating those who have strayed from the righteous path, letting the martial artists of this world rise from common men to men of the nation, without losing the original spirit that led them to take up the martial arts in the first place.”

“As for the name of this martial assembly, this old man has given it some thought. I first wanted to call it the Central Plains Martial Assembly, but on reflection, that felt too narrow. The Huaxia Martial Assembly wouldn’t do either, since that would make people think of the Southwest. In the end I settled on a name — the China Martial Assembly!”

“…The rest of the details will need to be worked out between Zhongming and all of you together.”

Dai Mengwei smiled, having finished speaking.

The afternoon sun remained bright. Everyone in the room agreed, one after another, though inside, their hearts had already begun to churn.

In years past, when the Wu Dynasty flourished, the capital had its Imperial Boxing Hall — but even the so-called number one man under heaven, Zhou Tong, had never received much regard from those in power. By the time the Wu Dynasty began to decline, external pressures mounted on one hand, while on the other, the martial-arts novels of the Bamboo Press spread everywhere, raising the status of martial artists somewhat — but overall, their position remained awkward.

The biggest reason for this, of course, was that martial artists tended to guard their own skills jealously — capable of becoming bandits, but not soldiers. After the fall of the Central Plains, the large-scale migration of people brought about a trend of northern boxing spreading south; back then, some rivers-and-lakes men in Lin’an had gathered together and formed a few new schools, but there was never a truly major figure to stand behind such efforts on the public stage. In the end, it always came down to the fact that they couldn’t fight on a real battlefield — even used as scouts, given the temperaments of these martial artists, the quality varied too wildly, and the truly capable ones were simply absorbed into the army — so why bother letting them form their own schools?

The Jurchens’ fourth southern invasion had pushed the world into even greater fragmentation, and by the time Dai Mengwei emerged, he used his own reputation and methods to gather this group of rivers-and-lakes men together. Under the pressure of righteous cause and hard reality, these men had set aside some of their old pride and old customs, beginning to follow rules, obey orders, and cooperate — and in doing so, their collective strength had grown. But in truth, this had also, of course, suppressed their individual temperaments to some degree.

For the sake of righteousness, becoming Dai Mengwei’s loyal enforcers, even giving their lives without hesitation as Xu Yuanzong had — there were those willing to do this. But at the same time, who didn’t want genuine fame and fortune? The Huaxia Army in the Southwest claimed to be holding a World’s Number One Martial Arts Tournament, but wasn’t the final outcome, for those who went, still just joining the army? The same held true here in Jiangning. And so, at heart, none of them had really wanted to go.

But if this “China Martial Assembly,” spoken of by Lord Dai, could truly be established, backed and endorsed by a man of his standing — wouldn’t that assembly be equivalent to an Imperial Boxing Hall, in an age where martial artists were finally respected? Even if Zhou Tong himself came back to life, he’d probably envy them. And as the very first advocates of this cause, they might even, one day, leave their own names behind in the history books.

Thinking of it this way, those who could see the prospects ahead felt their hearts already burning with excitement…

That same afternoon.

Old Eight and Jin Chenghu, their faces marked with grim scars, sat facing off with the swordsman who had saved them the night before, in an old house on the south side of the city.

The swordsman, You Hongzhuo, laid out his assessment for them: Dai Mengwei was no incompetent man. His command over the rivers-and-lakes men beneath him showed real method — they weren’t simply a disorganized rabble. And around him, at least within his inner circle, there were people capable of getting things done, his guards were well organized, and by no means could he be considered an ideal target for assassination.

“…And besides, Old Dog Dai has done plenty of wicked things, but on the surface it’s all well concealed… If you kill this Dai fellow now, all you’ll do is make him famous.”

Having spent months investigating in Dai Mengwei’s territory, You Hongzhuo had learned a great deal of the inside story, and he knew that Old Eight and Jin Chenghu had long been righteous fighters framed by Dai Mengwei. He laid all of this out for them, one point at a time, along with some of the thinking he’d picked up from the Huaxia Army. But the moment he mentioned the Huaxia Army, Old Eight flew into a rage.

“…You saved me, Old Eight, so I won’t call you a bad man. But as for that Huaxia Army, it’s no good thing either—”

“…Back when we resisted the Jurchens, everyone talked about righteousness, and I did it for righteousness too — and I lost every one of my brothers and sisters over it! Dai Mengwei harbors evil in his heart, and the lot of us fell for his rotten trick. I, Old Eight, will never share heaven with him for the rest of my life. But I’ll also always remember — back when the Huaxia Army defeated the Jurchen western army, right there in Hanzhong, they could have killed Dai Mengwei the moment they wanted to, but that Ning Yi talked so grandly and still wouldn’t lift a hand—”

“…Others say he’s a common man who, in a single fit of rage, killed an emperor — but as far as I’m concerned, this Mr. Ning is nothing but a coward too—”

“…Over this past year and more, how many of my brothers has Dai Mengwei killed here — you have no idea. But how many people here has he gotten killed! How sanctimonious can a man be! You know this too, brother, deep down. You tell me to be patient — what about all the people who’ve already died, and the ones still dying now—”

“…I, Old Eight, don’t know anything about taking things slowly. I don’t know any of the fine reasoning Mr. Ning talks about. All I know is I want to save people, and killing Dai Mengwei is how I save them—”

“…I don’t want to wait for this Mr. Ning to come save anyone. By the time he gets here, how many people who didn’t need to die will already be dead… None of these big shots up top are any good, because they were never on the same side as the little people like us—”

You Hongzhuo turned his head, looking at the scar-faced man growling and spitting across the table.

“I’m not saying whether Dai Mengwei deserves to die or not. But what if you really can’t kill him?”

“Back when Elder Zhou went to assassinate Nian Han, did he know for certain he’d succeed? What I, Old Eight, used to do was take money to kill people — I didn’t even know my own brothers and sisters had been killed by Dai Mengwei, that’s why I’ve failed a few times. But as long as he’s alive, I’ll keep trying to kill him—”

In the old house, You Hongzhuo looked at this man, his emotions bordering on hysteria — his features ugly, his face scarred and grim, his clothes ragged, his hair thinning, his eyes filling with blood when he spoke of Dai Mengwei and the Huaxia Army… At last, You Hongzhuo let out a sigh.

Jin Chenghu walked him out. “Are you with the Huaxia Army, brother?”

“I’ve crossed skills with some of their people, admire and look up to them, but I never joined. To be honest, what he was just saying gave even me some pause…” You Hongzhuo glanced back. “But he’s going to get you all killed…”

“He only gets like that sometimes — he can’t help it,” said Jin Chenghu. “Over this past year, Dai Mengwei has hunted us relentlessly. In one fight, trying to save a brother, he took a blade to the head — he survived by luck, but it’s left him unable to control himself whenever he speaks of Dai Mengwei and the Huaxia Army. When it comes to actually planning an assassination, he can stay calm enough — it’s just that the people around Dai Mengwei have grown harder and harder to deal with…”

He paused there. “Brother, your swordsmanship is formidable, and you know of Dai Mengwei’s evil deeds — why not join us and help kill him once and for all?”

“…It would be difficult. And it might not even do any good.”

“…Good for whom? Some will die today, some tomorrow — Dai Mengwei is the one killing them. What good do they get?”

You Hongzhuo looked at Jin Chenghu before him — a man who must once have had a fierce look about him, but now had only a thin, weathered, scarred face left. He had some answer he might have given, but he opened his mouth and, in the end, said nothing at all.

Jin Chenghu had already cupped his hands together, smiling. “Whatever happens, thank you for your kindness today, brother. If we meet again someday in the rivers and lakes, I’ll repay you.”

You Hongzhuo nodded and left the courtyard.

That night, he sat on a nearby rooftop, thinking back to the scenes of his early days in the rivers and lakes. Back then he had experienced the betrayal of his sworn fourth brother, Kuang Wenbai; seen that the older brother he thought so righteous was, in fact, embezzling funds for Wang Juyun’s chaotic army; experienced the filth of the Great Light Sect. Then, when the famous Huaxia Army had positioned itself in the Jin region and, with a flip of the hand, toppled the Tiger King’s regime, it had also stirred up a great wave of chaos in its wake. He hadn’t known who was good and who was bad, and in the end had chosen to walk the rivers and lakes alone, guarding only his own heart.

Even now, with all he’d come to understand, he could say that having the Huaxia Army handle things would be best for most people — but what about the ones caught in the middle of it, men like Old Eight and Jin Chenghu? The Huaxia Army’s “good” meant nothing to them at all.

In the affairs of men, it’s only in the incompleteness of things that the truth lies.

That night, You Hongzhuo sat on the rooftop for half the night, and the next day, after a light disguise, he left Ankang and set out east by land, beginning his journey toward Jiangning.

He had left the Jin region the previous year, only meaning to look around the Southwest before heading back — but instead he’d won the favor of a great master in the Huaxia Army, and once his identity in the Jin region had been confirmed, he’d been placed within the Huaxia Army for several months as a sparring partner, and his skills had grown enormously. Once his training was complete, he’d left the Southwest, spending months in Dai Mengwei’s territory gathering information — something of a way to repay the debt he owed.

Now that this business was drawing to a close, word had come of the Jiangning heroes’ gathering. He had no real hunger for the martial contest itself — it was only hearing that the number-one man under heaven, Lin Zongwu, and his disciple, would be attending, that finally stirred his heart. Years earlier, gravely wounded, he had once encountered that fat monk of the Great Light Sect, and at the time had thought his martial skill utterly unfathomable. But by now, having trained under masters like Shi Jin and Lu Hongti in succession, and having gone through half a year of the Huaxia Army’s harsh forging, the thought of seeing that number-one man under heaven again already made his blood run hot.

At the same time, he was genuinely curious to see what would happen once the Fairness Party opened its doors to guests in Jiangning — as one of the Jin region’s own, it seemed worth the trip to see for himself. Once he’d taken the measure of things in Jiangning, he could return and report to the Lady Chancellor, Shi Jin, and the others — just as his investigations in Dai Mengwei’s territory had been useful, this news would be valuable too.

……

Ning Ji stayed in Ankang for two more days, spending the time secretly observing the defenses of some suspicious locations on the west side of the city. In the end, his conclusion was much the same as You Hongzhuo’s.

Assassinating Dai Mengwei would be extremely difficult.

What’s more, he had no proof, for the time being, of any wrongdoing on Dai Mengwei’s part — taking on such a huge risk just to kill off that old man would hardly be a rational move.

In the end, he had no choice but to reluctantly let the matter drop.

On the twenty-third of June, he boarded an eastbound merchant ship together with the five pedantic scholars, Wang Xiuniang and her father, and the others, sailing down the Han River…

……

A few more days passed.

Lu Zhongming and his party set out from Ankang, beginning their journey to Jiangning. By this time, they had already worked out a full set of plans concerning the “China Martial Assembly,” and had been gathering and refining information on the many great heroes of the rivers and lakes.

They even carried with them several personal letters written by Dai Mengwei himself — for the great masters, men like Lin Zongwu, they intended to try their hand at persuasion, inviting them to serve as the first president of the China Martial Assembly in Bian Liang.

……

Ding Songnan, in the midst of preparing for battle, likewise dispatched a delegation not long after his return, setting out for Jiangning. At this same moment, Zou Xu, having gone to the Jin region, had already begun crossing back south over the Yellow River with a portion of his military supplies.

While in the Jin region, Xue Guangcheng had once caught sight of Zou Xu, and afterward had gone on endlessly protesting and demanding an explanation at the Lady Chancellor’s residence. Lou Shuwan hadn’t held back in the least, trading insults with Xue Guangcheng without giving an inch — she’d even thrown an inkstone at him. Though Lou Shuwan complained afterward that “Xue Guangcheng and Zhan Wu are thick as thieves, insufferably arrogant,” in fact, once Zhan Wu came over to take his side, she’d still managed to curse them both into running off, undaunted.

“Only women and petty men are difficult to raise—”

“Shrew—! Shrew—!”

Xue Guangcheng’s furious shouting could be heard from nearly half the city.

Lou Shuwan then turned around and complained to Zou Xu, raising her prices as she did. Zou Xu, wincing but accepting the fleecing with good humor, said things like “Mr. Ning likes… no, admires you most of all,” and the two of them got along rather well after that. By the time Zou Xu left, Lou Shuwan waved him off with a smile that had turned surprisingly gentle. “Remember — you’d better win.”

“Yes! I won’t shame you, Auntie Lou!” Zou Xu bowed in promise.

After Zou Xu left, Lou Shuwan handed over a tenth of the profits to the local Huaxia Army. Feeling the share was too small, and suspecting the Jin region had been cooking the books, the two sides fell into another round of mutual sniping.

Everyone in this world makes their own choices.

At the start of July, autumn arrived.

On this day, in front of Jianmen Pass, there were, as always, many people lined up waiting to pass through the gate.

A gaunt man, his cheeks slightly sunken, dressed in the same standard-issue single-layer robe as everyone else, stood in line, slowly moving forward. His eyes were wide, glancing around at his surroundings, an expression of boundless curiosity in them. As he passed through the gate, he tilted his head back like a child, looking up at the towering gate tower, letting out a soft “Wow…”

At the registration point by the gate, he took up a brush and, with some difficulty, wrote down his own name. The veteran soldier on duty could see the trouble in his hands: the tips of all ten of his fingers, flesh and what remained of the nails, had grown twisted and deformed — the marks left behind by torture, where his fingers had been forcibly pulled out.

Since he was followed by two plainclothes soldiers, the veteran didn’t press him with too many questions, only offering him a salute.

He walked along in the line heading into the mountains, his pace somewhat slow, because along the way into the mountains, stone tablets could often be seen by the roadside — some recording the course of battles against the Jurchens, others recording the names of martyrs who had died in a given region. Every so often he’d stop to look at them, even reaching out as if to touch the characters carved into the stone, only to be sharply scolded and stopped by a red-armband attendant on duty nearby.

“Oh — oh, sorry, sorry…”

He hastily apologized, and since he looked weak and harmless, easy to bully, the other man didn’t press further.

In the mountains in July, the leaves had begun to yellow, and the wind, when it blew, made a soft rustling sound.

The mountain road was crowded everywhere with people walking, mules and horses moving through, the sounds of people keeping order and people cursing all mingling together. There were simply too many people, and hardly anyone paid any attention to the ordinary appearance of this “returnee” among the crowd…