Under cover of night, the walls of Tongshan county were dotted with sparse torches, with only a few guards occasionally patrolling past.
Near the hour of hai, the east-facing gate opened, and five riders filed out from within the city.
At the head rode Xu Dong on his tall horse, clad in soft leather armor, two large sabers strapped to his back, a halberd-blade in his hand, and twelve throwing knives lined up in the pouch across his chest. Set against his tall, imposing frame, from a distance he looked like a war god radiating killing intent, ready to crush countless lives beneath him.
Before the Li family had married into Tongshan county, he had been a down-and-out martial artist with no foundation to speak of, but as a boy he’d received instruction from a famous master, training in long, medium, and short blades alike. Back then, Li Yanfeng, seeing what an excellent enforcer he made, and noting his deferential temperament in those hard times, had arranged the marriage between Xu Dong and his younger sister.
Of these three blade types, the halberd-blade suited battlefield charges and cavalry assaults, the large saber suited close combat and one-on-one killing, and the throwing knives suited ambush and assassination. Xu Dong had trained in all three, and whatever his overall skill level, he understood how to respond to every kind of combat situation.
When the Jurchen had come to kill, Li Yanfeng had organized people to flee into the mountains, and it was through this that Xu Dong had earned the important duty of leading the scouts. Afterward, when Tongshan county fell and a great fire burned half the city, Xu Dong, Li Yanfeng, and the others had watched from a distance with their scouts. Though the Jurchen soon withdrew and no direct battle took place, at that time, they had indeed been the closest people to the main Jurchen force.
Afterward, when Li Yanfeng purged his rivals and unified Tongshan, Xu Dong’s status had risen accordingly. But on the whole, he’d only been given some peripheral authority, and had instead been kept out of the Li family’s core power structure. This left Xu Dong deeply dissatisfied.
The formal, one-on-one combat of the training grounds was a foolish game played by “rules”—he might only manage a draw against a few of the Li family’s guest experts, but among those guest experts, which of them was as “well-rounded” as he was? What he trained in was battlefield tactics, killing arts that used any means necessary. Li Yanfeng, he thought, was simply using the matter of his sister to suppress a talent like himself from rising.
Of course, there was no doubting Li Yanfeng’s martial skill, and his ruthlessness in particular kept Xu Dong from harboring too much dissent. He could never openly oppose Li Yanfeng, but sharing the Li family’s burdens, seizing credit, ultimately making it impossible for anyone to overlook him—these things he could pursue openly and aboveboard.
The four yamen runners who’d come out with him were men he’d cultivated as his own loyal following within Tongshan county. By now they had all put on leather armor; some carried barbed fishing nets, some carried lime powder, and they were armed with weapons of various lengths. In the past, these men had also received Xu Dong’s private training.
Once outside the gates of Tongshan county, in the distance one could only make out the dark silhouette of the mountains, with just a few scattered spots of light from surrounding villages. The road to the Li manor still had to wind around a ridge. Someone spoke up. “Boss, the folks who came said that outlaw’s not easy to deal with. Are we really going at night?”
“What are you afraid of?” Xu Dong swept a glance over him. “Coordinated attacks on a battlefield and one-on-one duels in the martial world—are they the same thing? What are you wearing? Armor! If he slashes you with a blade and it doesn’t kill you, it’s him who ends up dead! What great hero of the martial world, once caught in a net and surrounded, can do anything but get hacked to pieces? However skilled Shi Shuifang was, couldn’t you all have surrounded him to death?”
“We’re not afraid of Shi Shuifang.”
“He fought alone, one against one, to the death!” Xu Dong said. “We don’t do one-on-one. To kill someone, the best method is to pile on all at once. You’re wearing armor—whether you use the net, or the lime, or just rush in and grab hold of him, as long as one person gets a hand on him, that man is finished. At a time like this, what’s there to overthink? Besides, some drifter from outside—how well can he know this ground compared to you? When we were hiding from the Jurchen, was there an inch of these mountains we didn’t cover? Going out at night, who has the advantage—do I really need to spell it out?”
“You lot follow me, wear my colors, patrol the streets of this city day after day—how much of Tongshan’s cut, the Li family’s cut, have you taken? Don’t you know it in your hearts? Today, with this happening, is exactly the chance to show these so-called martial heroes what you’re made of. If you’re going to hesitate now, are you even going to step up? Anyone who’s scared, turn back right now—don’t blame me later when there are good things going around and you’re left out!”
Having said this, the man who’d spoken up before lifted his chin. “Boss, I was just asking. When it comes to killing, I’m no coward.”
Another slapped his own chest. “That’s right! That guy just fought two fights on the Li family’s mountain this evening—he must be spent. If you ask me, we don’t even need to go all the way to the Li manor—we can just search the area around here and flush him out.”
“However skilled he is, he’s still just one man. Once he’s caught in that net, he’ll have no choice but to lie there and let us do as we please. What does it matter if we take a cut from him along the way!”
Egged on by this, the four men’s expressions turned excited. Xu Dong grinned ferociously. “Exactly the principle! This time, we’ll first show our faces up on that mountain, and then we’ll find that man and teach him what it means to wish he were dead. All of us out here chasing wealth and glory—it’s always been kill or be killed! Better to die trying than live ten thousand years in shame! Let’s finish him off—”
As he spoke, he suddenly spurred his horse forward, and the other four followed at once. The war horses charged through the darkness, along the familiar road. As the night wind blew past, Xu Dong’s blood boiled and churned, hard to settle. The endless beatings and humiliation from the shrew at home flashed before his eyes; the utter ignorance of those outsider scholars, who had offended him without the slightest sense of proper conduct, filled him with rage; and the fact that that woman’s resistance had ultimately stopped him from having his way, and that he’d even been caught red-handed by his wife—all of it left him seething.
These people had no idea what an age of chaos really meant. If not for that earlier stroke of bad luck, that woman, however much she resisted, would eventually have been beaten into submission after a few thrashings; those ignorant scholars, in offending him, would never even have made it out of Tongshan; and as for the shrew at home, she had no idea just how formidable his skills truly were—even Li Yanfeng, however fearsome his fists and feet, would need his own experience and counsel if it ever came to real warfare.
And it was that single stroke of bad luck that now left him unable even to go home comfortably—even the wretched maidservants in his own household now looked at him as though mocking him.
He had to prove himself! He had to win back every scrap of face he had lost!
The night wind howled as his war horse galloped beneath him, his mind churning with turbulent emotion. Even so, when they reached the first stand of trees along the road, he was the first to dismount, having the others lead the horses forward on foot, to avoid any ambush by the murderer along the way.
Though some worried it wasn’t safe to approach the Li manor at night, in Xu Dong’s mind, he didn’t believe the other side would dare ambush a group of five men, traveling together, all armed. After all, however strong a lone hero of the martial world might be, he was still just one man—having fought two battles at the Li manor that evening, could he really pull off an ambush at night too? Even setting aside whether it would succeed—even if it did, by tomorrow, with the whole of Tongshan mobilized, the man wouldn’t even have the strength left to run. Anyone with a shred of sense wouldn’t attempt such a thing.
With all of Tongshan now under the Li family’s control, the most likely course of events was that, having killed Shi Shuifang, the man would flee Tongshan as quickly as possible—that was the safest choice. And Xu Dong’s purpose in going to the Li manor was to lay out the stakes clearly, to get the Li family to respond swiftly, casting a wide net to cut off all escape routes. He was the man best suited to command all of this.
If the man was still in Tongshan, Xu Dong would lead his men to overwhelm and kill him, making his name in the process. If the man had already left, Xu Dong figured he could at least catch the earlier group of scholars, or even recapture that resisting woman, and deal with them at his leisure. He hadn’t held quite this much hatred for them before, but after being slapped by his wife for an entire day, the more he thought about it, the angrier he became, until he could no longer bear it.
It was around the hour of hai. At the Li manor, Lu Wenke was being dragged down into the dungeon, letting out his desperate howls. Along the road ahead, there was only the monotone of sound—hoofbeats, the rustle of footsteps, the soft sway of leaves in the night wind, all standing out clearly against the silent background. They rounded a bend in the road, and could now see, in the distance among the mountains, the scattered points of light from the Li manor. Though still far off, everyone let out a small sigh of relief.
The attack came without warning.
At that moment, they were passing through a stand of trees. To avoid tripwires along the way, they had all dismounted. Two rope-bound stones came whistling out and struck the man walking second from the rear, who fell instantly. Then two more stones came, striking the hindquarters of two of the horses—one reared and jumped with a shriek, while the other bolted forward with a long whinny.
The panic of the horses tore through the night like a sudden rip. The man bringing up the rear of the group let out a cry and grabbed his fishing net, charging toward the trees; the yamen runner third from the rear also drew his blade at once and rushed toward the trees. A figure stood there.
At this moment, the horses were neighing and bucking wildly, men were screaming hysterically, and the runner who’d been struck down by the stone was clawing at the ground trying to get up. Their taut nerves seemed to snap all at once, and Xu Dong too drew his long saber.
At that moment, the figure at the edge of the woods seemed to let out a small “…Hm?” His form shifted, and he retreated back into the trees.
The three runners charged together toward the trees, followed by Xu Dong, and then by the fourth runner, who had been knocked down. He rolled to his feet, ignoring the dull ache in his chest, and charged forward, blade drawn. This wasn’t just adrenaline—Xu Dong had specifically instructed them beforehand: the moment they spotted the enemy, swarm him at once. As long as one man pinned him down, or even just slowed his hands and feet, the rest could hack him to death outright. But once a skilled martial artist got the measure of their rhythm, fighting while retreating, it might be their own side that ended up dead.
The killing arts honed on real battlefields cared nothing for the codes of the martial world—there wasn’t even any need for empty talk.
The blade-wielding runner charged in and slashed at the figure. In mid-sprint, the figure abruptly stopped, gripped the runner’s swinging arm, and wrenched the blade from his grasp. The runner let go of the hilt and lunged forward.
“Ah! I’ve got—”
His voice rang through the trees, but his opponent, using the momentum of his charge, retreated in a continuous motion, throwing him off balance. His body, still moving forward at full speed, crashed face-first into a large tree trunk.
The figure who had launched the ambush now held the long saber in hand. He passed by the tree, and the others, howling hysterically, had already closed in. One threw the barbed fishing net; the figure, saber in hand, dodged and rolled to the side.
Someone flung out a handful of lime powder, filling the air among the trees with dust. But the figure moved faster than anyone imagined—like a leopard pouncing through the woods, almost skimming the ground, he charged straight into the middle of the group. His saber flashed twice, the blade’s edge like lightning, like a violent, silent undercurrent surging beneath water, unfurling left and right before everyone’s eyes in an instant.
Xu Dong, having studied the blade for years, recognized the half-form of “Eight-Direction Night Combat”—a technique meant for one against many, for chaotic melees. The form itself wasn’t extraordinary; every school had its own variation, and in essence it was simply a method for hacking wildly around oneself when surrounded on all sides, breaking through an encirclement. And yet, this opponent’s blade, striking in every direction, moved like a whip cracking, exploding with violence—it was hard to say how many years of dedicated practice with the blade it must have taken to develop such technique.
This flash of terror in his mind lasted only an instant. Because it was night and the distance made it hard to see clearly, he couldn’t tell exactly how the enemy’s long saber had struck, only that the companion who’d thrown the lime seemed to have taken a cut to the calf, and the one who’d thrown the net had been struck somewhere too. But since they were all wearing tanned leather armor, even if struck, the wounds shouldn’t be severe.
He and another runner charged forward all the same.
The man who’d thrown the lime buckled at the knees and tumbled away, rolling.
Having unleashed this stroke of Eight-Direction Night Combat, the blade-wielding figure’s footwork seemed to explode, kicking up clods of earth like blossoming flowers, his body already turning to charge at Xu Dong. The runner ahead of Xu Dong clashed swords with him in the blink of an eye; Xu Dong heard a ringing “clang,” sparks flying from the blades, and then the charging figure seemed to throw a jabbing punch at the runner’s face. The runner’s body jolted, then went stumbling rapidly backward toward Xu Dong.
“Third Brother, grab him—”
Xu Dong roared, brandishing his nine-ringed broadsword.
By now, only a brief moment had passed since the fight began. In theory, Third Brother, having only taken a punch to the face, should still have been able to grab hold of the man, but for some reason he just kept stumbling backward. Xu Dong swept his gaze over the others—the brother who’d thrown the lime was rolling on the ground; the one who’d thrown the net, having taken a cut, stood swaying unsteadily in place; and the runner who had first tried to grab the enemy, only to crash into a tree, still hadn’t moved.
What was wrong with them…
Their strategy had no flaws—everyone was wearing armor. Even taking a hit, how much damage could it really do?
As long as one man pinned him down…
He saw the figure emerge from Third Brother’s left side, blade in hand, and Xu Dong swung his saber down at once, but the man suddenly reappeared on the right. By then Third Brother had retreated in front of him, so Xu Dong retreated too, hoping Third Brother would come to his senses the next instant and grab hold of the enemy.
Left, right, left—the figure suddenly raised his long saber and charged at Xu Dong.
In that instant, what reflected in Xu Dong’s eyes was the face of a young man, ferocious as a beast, brimming with killing intent.
He had no idea that on this day—whether facing the six Li family servants, beating Wu Cheng, or killing Shi Shuifang in revenge—the youth had never once shown this particular look.
Nor would he ever know just what level of bloody battlefield had bred such a wild, beastlike gaze and such an unyielding way of killing in this young man.
His strategy hadn’t been wrong.
He had simply chosen the most decisive, least forgiving mode of combat.
And it was precisely because of this that, in this moment, what he now faced was the blade of the Huaxia Army—the first force in decades to have utterly crushed the strongest Jurchen army in open, frontal battle.
The runner who’d crashed into the tree and fallen to the ground now had his throat slit open. The one who’d thrown the fishing net had taken a blade through the gap at his abdomen, his body already beginning to split open. Third Brother, who had charged ahead of Xu Dong, had, in the same instant as taking that jabbing punch, already had a small blade driven through his eye. The man who’d thrown the lime had had his hamstring cut, and he was rolling on the ground.
They had chosen the most ruthless mode of battlefield killing, and yet against a true product of the battlefield, even the way they wore their armor was laughable.
“Kill—”
It was a roar as savage as a tiger’s snarl. Ning Ji’s blade fell toward Xu Dong—