The lamplight was dim, casting the surroundings into something like a haunted underworld.

The torture chamber behind the Tongshan county yamen wasn’t large. Amid the scattered glow of the oil lamp, the clerk’s desk was tucked into a small corner. In the middle of the room stood the bench for administering the “welcome canes,” the frame for the tiger bench, and two racks for binding prisoners. Lu Wenke occupied one of them; on the wood of the other rack, and on the ground around it, were patches of dried black blood, speckled everywhere, enough to make anyone’s hair stand on end.

Hanging on the surrounding walls were instruments of every kind—finger-crushing clamps, all manner of iron prods, oddly shaped blades—gleaming with an eerie light against the damp, moss-green walls, making one wonder why such a small county town needed so many tools for torment. More instruments were piled on the floor to one side. Though the room was cold and gloomy, the brazier wasn’t lit; inside it sat the branding iron used for burning prisoners.

Perhaps because the room was close to the yamen’s latrine, a stale, moldy smell mixed with the odor of a previous prisoner’s vomit, the stench of excrement, and the reek of blood.

Lu Wenke had once seen such things in the yamen at Hongzhou, had once smelled these odors, and at the time he’d thought that such things existed for good reason. But in this moment, terror mixed with physical agony surged up from the marrow of his bones like waves of a cold tide.

He had already shouted himself hoarse.

This was the last thread of hope he still held onto.

By the time the county magistrate arrived, Lu Wenke was tied to the rack, his head spinning, his vision blurred. Earlier, when they’d administered the welcome canes, they had stripped off his trousers, so beneath his robe he wore nothing at all. His buttocks and thighs had bled who knew how much—this was the most humiliating moment of his life.

The magistrate of Tongshan county was surnamed Huang, given name Wendao, around thirty years old, thin and gaunt. He came in frowning, covering his mouth and nose with a handkerchief. He seemed rather irritated that someone was howling in the back courtyard of the yamen, and he clearly hadn’t known about it. Once inside, he cursed a few times, pulled up a stool, and sat down. The two yamen runners outside, who had just finished their dinner, rushed in and began explaining to Huang Wendao how vicious and dangerous the man on the rack was. Lu Wenke, in turn, cried out that he had been wronged, and began to state his name and background.

“Silence—”

Amid the noisy clamor, Magistrate Huang barked out, pointed a finger at the two runners, then turned to Lu Wenke. “Speak.”

Seeing that the two runners no longer dared say anything, the flame of hope in Lu Wenke’s heart flared up a little brighter, and he hurriedly began recounting everything that had happened since arriving in Tongshan.

In the more than ten years since the Jurchen had swept south, though the Central Plains had fallen and the world had been thrown into upheaval, he had still studied the classics of the sages and received a proper education. His father and elders often spoke of the world’s decline, but they also always told him that in all things there was the union of male and female, the embrace of yin and yang, black bound to white. Even in the best of times, there was corruption in men’s hearts, and even in the worst of times, there would always be those unwilling to sink into the mire, who stood firm to guard a sliver of light.

On this long journey, he had traveled to the most perilous parts of the southwest and made his way back out again, and yet what he had seen along the way had still, for the most part, been good people. Now, arriving in Tongshan, having lived through this filth, having witnessed everything that had happened to Wang Xiuniang, there had been a time he was too ashamed even to look her in the eye. What he could believe in now, what could save him, was only this faint thread of hope.

He told the whole story from beginning to end, until even the tremor of weeping had drained from his voice. Across from him, Magistrate Huang sat quietly listening, his stern gaze making the two runners flinch again and again without daring to move. When Lu Wenke finished speaking, Magistrate Huang asked a few simple questions, which he answered one by one. The torture chamber fell silent. Huang Wendao sat mulling it all over; the atmosphere grew oppressive, and a good while passed like this.

…

“Is there still… any law left in this world!?”

Bound and hanging from the rack, Lu Wenke heard the magistrate speak these words slowly and gravely, his eyes turning toward the two runners.

“The puny Li family, thinking they can cover the sky with one hand here in Tongshan!?”

“Whose men are you? Do you think this official’s magistracy was given by the Li family!?”

Magistrate Huang pointed at the two runners, his scolding voice deafening. Tears nearly spilled from Lu Wenke’s eyes.

The two runners hastily tried to defend themselves, saying this was only the prisoner’s one-sided account, but Magistrate Huang waved his hand. “We’ll get to the bottom of it! You two—cut him down!”

The two runners hesitated a moment, then finally walked over and untied the ropes binding Lu Wenke. His feet touched the ground; the pain from his legs to his backside was so intense it hardly felt like his own body, but having just escaped great disaster, his blood surged hot with gratitude, and he finally managed to stand, swaying, clutching the hem of his robe. “Student—this student’s trousers…”

Magistrate Huang glanced at him. “Go on out first. Someone will bring them to you shortly.”

“Yes, yes…”

Lu Wenke nodded and tried to shuffle forward with great difficulty, finally taking one halting step after another. As he was about to pass by the magistrate, he hesitated, not daring to move, but Magistrate Huang, staring at the two runners, waved a hand outward. “Go.”

Gritting his teeth, Lu Wenke walked toward the door of the torture chamber.

Taking a few more steps, he braced a hand against the doorframe and crossed the threshold. Outside the chamber was the small courtyard behind the yamen. Above the courtyard was a square patch of sky, dark, with only faint stars, but the slight freshness of the night air had already reached him, utterly different from the moldy gloom inside.

He thought of Wang Xiuniang. After this, he thought, he would finally no longer feel he had failed her…

Thud—

Then came sudden, blinding pain from behind…

…

Lu Wenke didn’t have time to react.

Almost his entire body showed not the slightest response. His body pitched forward; since his hands were still clutching the hem of his robe, his face struck the ground directly. What followed wasn’t pain but an indescribable jolt of impact—his head rang with a buzzing sound, the world before his eyes went black, then white, then black again, over and over…

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz…

The sound stretched on for a good while.

There was a gritty sound in his mouth, a horrifying, sickly-sweet taste—his mouth had split open, half his teeth seemed to be coming loose, mixing with flesh and blood.

“You…”

Someone seemed to be speaking behind him—it sounded like the “just and upright official” from before.

Lu Wenke swayed his body, struggling to turn his head to see what was happening behind him, but his eyes saw only a blur of flying petals, countless butterflies like his shattered soul scattering in every direction.

“You… still… haven’t… answered… this official’s… question…”

He couldn’t say how much time passed before he managed to make out the full meaning of that sentence.

What question…

Who had asked him a question…

His mind couldn’t process it; he opened his mouth but for a moment couldn’t get a word out, only bloody froth swirling in his mouth.

“This official… was just asking you, you think… the emperor’s about done for, and this official’s magistracy—who gave it to me…”

“This official just asked you—can the puny Li family really cover the sky with one hand, here in Tongshan…”

“This official asked you…”

“…is there still any law left—”

The magistrate surnamed Huang, holding a club, said this and then swung it hard against Lu Wenke’s leg again.

“This official has treated you so well, and you won’t even answer a question, and you just want to leave. Are you looking down on this official? Ah!?”

His club came down, and his gaze came down with it. Lu Wenke, struggling to turn over on the ground, finally got a close look at Magistrate Huang’s face this time—the corners of his mouth curled in a mocking sneer, and in the sunken black hollows of his eyes, ruined by excessive indulgence, flickered a devouring fire, as black as the night above the square patch of sky.

The magistrate was laughing. The two runners were laughing too. Even the sky behind them seemed to be laughing.

“…ran off and then dared to come back crying injustice… reported your own name and lineage… traveled the world—what did you actually see out there, thinking you could still walk out of Tongshan alive… disgraceful! Tie him back up. When Captain Xu gets here, give him a proper welcome…”

The two runners dragged him back into the torture chamber and bound him to the rack again, then slapped him a few times, humiliating him at length over the matter of his missing trousers. Lu Wenke hung there bound, his eyes full of tears. After a spell of crying, he wanted to beg for mercy, but the words wouldn’t come out, and he was slapped again. “Screaming won’t do you any good, you idiot! Keep it up and I’ll beat you to death!”

The other runner said, “You won’t live past tonight. Once the captain gets here, heh, you’re in for it.”

He added, “If you’d known better, you’d have handed that girl over obediently—none of this would’ve happened.”

Fear and regret churned together in Lu Wenke’s heart. His mouth, missing half a row of teeth, gaped as he wept uncontrollably. He wanted to kneel and kowtow to the two men, to beg them to spare him, but bound as he was, he couldn’t move at all.

He had no idea how much time passed. Outside, something happened—suddenly a small commotion arose, and the two runners went out for a while. When they came back in, they cut Lu Wenke down from the rack. He tried to struggle, but it was pointless; after being beaten a few more times, he was bound up and stuffed into a sack.

They loaded the sack onto a cart, and then came a long, jolting ride, to who knew where. Lu Wenke passed the time in overwhelming terror, and when he was finally pulled out of the sack, he found himself in a hall brightly lit with torches and lamps, with quite a few people looking down at him from all around.

His head spun; he vomited for a while. Someone cleaned the blood from his mouth, and then someone else kicked him to the ground and began sternly interrogating him about something. This questioning went on for quite some time. Lu Wenke, half by instinct, told them everything he knew—he spoke of the companions who had traveled with him, of Wang Jiang and his daughter Wang Xiuniang, of the precious things he’d seen along the road. By the end, when they stopped asking, he instinctively fell to his knees and tried to beg for mercy, pleading with them to let him go.

Someone had already hauled him up.

They dragged him forward, all the way down underground, through a dark, damp passage. Below was a massive dungeon. He heard someone say, “Let me tell you—this is the Li family’s black prison. Once you’re in, don’t even think about getting out. In here… there’s no such thing as people anymore—”

Someone carrying a torch marched him through the passage of the dungeon. Lu Wenke looked around; in the neighboring cells were grotesque figures with broken limbs and disheveled hair—some missing hands, some missing feet, some kowtowing to the floor and making guttural “heh, heh” sounds, some women, not a stitch of clothing on their bodies, their expressions gone mad.

“These, well—these are all people who offended our Li family…”

In his mind flashed the rumors of the Li family purging its enemies in Tongshan…

With a thud, he was thrown into a cell. The torchbearer locked the door. He turned to look and saw, huddled in the corner of the cell, a dark, strange shape of a person—he couldn’t even tell if it still counted as a person.

“Ah…”

Lu Wenke grabbed the bars of the cell and tried to shake them.

“Help me…”

No one paid him any attention. He shook harder and harder, his words gradually turning into wailing, growing louder and louder. The Li family men who had brought him carried their torches away, turning to leave.

“Ahhhhhhh…”

Lu Wenke wailed madly, shaking the pillars of the black prison with all his might, but the torchlight receded into the distance, and one howl of anguish gradually gave way to many more howls. Darkness swept in from every direction, cutting off any path to escape.

Amid the unbearable wailing, who could say how many people had fallen into this hell of despair…

…

Those desperate howls could not pass through the earth above.

A single layer of soil and stone away from this black prison, in the brightly lit main hall of the Li family’s fortified manor, people had finally begun to piece together a rough outline of what had happened, and had learned the possible name of the murderous young man. At this moment, the Li family’s tenant farmers had already mobilized on a large scale, bringing fishing nets, lime powder, bows, arrows, blades, spears—all manner of things—to prepare their first round of measures against this formidable enemy, to hunt down this vicious criminal.

Passing through this layer of earth and further upward, in the dark sky above there was only the faint glimmer of stars, that starlight falling to earth bringing only a paltry, pitiful light.

Xu Dong, chief constable, who had been beaten and cursed by his wife all day, seized the chance to storm out of his house upon hearing news of trouble at the Li manor. He rushed to the yamen to find out what was happening, then, arming himself with weapons long and short, mounted his war horse along with four fellow yamen runners, preparing to ride to the Li manor to help.

Magistrate Huang Wendao chased after him. “I hear that outlaw is quite ferocious.”

“Good, ferocious is exactly what I need! I’ve got a bellyful of anger with nowhere to vent! Damn it!”

He was a big man, and mounted on his warhorse with a long saber in hand, he cut an imposing, martial figure. In truth, his mind was still on the heroic gathering at the Li manor. As a matrilocal son-in-law attached to the Li family, Xu Dong had always prided himself on his martial skill, wanting to carve out his own place in the world just like Li Yanfeng. This time, with the Li and Yan families meeting, if not for the earlier troubles getting in the way, he would originally have been there as one of the host family’s representatives.

Now all of this had been ruined by those ungrateful scholars, and on top of it, the one who’d come back to turn himself in had been sent off to the Li family instead. He couldn’t very well go home now, and the fury churning in his gut had nowhere to go.

The “Miao Blade” Shi Shuifang’s skills were certainly impressive, but they weren’t so much better than his own, and besides, Shi Shuifang was ultimately an outside guest, while he, Xu Dong, was the true local snake, thoroughly familiar with the surrounding terrain and conditions. If he could just get to the Li manor this time, organize the defense, or even capture that murderous villain, he’d make himself look magnificent in front of the entire Yan family delegation, and his own reputation would finally be made. As for the mess at home, that too would surely resolve itself.

The night was hazy and dim. Leading his companions, five riders in all, armed to the teeth, they charged out through the gates of Tongshan county—

In that moment, there was the air of “the wind sighs, and the waters of the Yi run cold” surging and sweeping through everything.