Dawn light broke over the eastern horizon, spreading across the vast land below.

Milky-white mist soaked up the warm glow of the sunlight, unfurling and drifting across the ground. West of the ancient city of Jiangning, low hills and rivers appeared and vanished within this haze of light and fog, flowing like a tide in the gentle morning breeze through the rolling hills and the gaps between the mountains. Here and there, through thin patches, glimpses of villages, roads, fields, and traces of human life showed through below.

On the roads winding between the hills and fields, plenty of travelers and merchants had already set out for the day. This close to Jiangning, many ragged travelers — some alone, some dragging whole families along — carried their belongings and bundles toward the territory controlled by the Fairness Party. There were also plenty of sword-and-blade-bearing wanderers and fierce-looking men of the martial world moving among them, the main body of those coming for this “Heroes’ Gathering.” Some, spotting each other from a distance, called out loudly in greeting, boasting proudly of their names and reputations, spraying spittle as they talked, full of swagger.

There were also merchant caravans from outside, the clatter of carts and horses accompanying armed guards — some fierce-looking, some wary-eyed — escorting their goods along the official road. The lead cart of each convoy flew banners marking the protection of one Fairness Party faction or another, most commonly the “Heaven-Earth-Man” Three Talents banner of the Baofeng Trading House, or the Fairness King banner of Master He. On certain special routes, particular additional banners were flown as well.

The Fairness Party had risen rapidly across Jiangnan, its internal affairs complicated and its destructive power immense. But apart from its initial period of chaos, trade and exchange between its territory and the outside world could never entirely disappear. The original capital that had fueled the Fairness Party’s rise had come from killing and plundering the region’s wealthy households — grain, cloth, and weapons were naturally consumed on the spot, but the many valuable antiques and curios that were seized naturally attracted merchants willing to seek fortune amid danger, buying up these goods while also smuggling outside supplies into Fairness Party territory.

Such trade had carried enormous risk at first, but the profits were just as enormous. By the time the Fairness Party’s power had spread continuously across Jiangnan, with He Wen’s tacit approval — even cooperation — massive internal forces capable of rivaling him, such as the “Equality King” and the Baofeng Trading House, had already taken shape.

By the time the Fairness Party occupied Jiangning and put out word of the “Heroes’ Gathering,” most of its internal factions had, to some degree, become manageable. And to ensure the gathering could proceed smoothly, He Wen, Shi Baofeng, and others had all dispatched considerable forces to maintain order along the main roads leading in and out of the city.

As a result, even more merchant caravans and escort companies from outside, hoping to “seek fortune amid danger,” had begun flocking toward this transit hub of Jiangning, eager to pick up whatever spoils remained uncounted from the Fairness Party’s plundering of the wealthy over the past year or two. After all, ordinary Fairness Party members, after killing rich merchants and gentry, usually only wanted enough for food and clothing — there was still no telling how many valuable treasures and curiosities, gathered over this time, remained unsold.

Dressed in patched clothing, carrying a small bundle from home, a cloth sack slung over one shoulder and a small medicine case at his side, Ning Ji walked the road east toward Jiangning, travel-worn yet light on his feet.

He looked over the crowds ahead with curious eyes, quietly pricking up his ears to eavesdrop on the conversations around him, occasionally quickening his pace to peer at a distant village. Having traveled thousands of li from the southwest, the scenery and terrain had changed several times along the way; by the time he neared Jiangning, the hills had grown gentler, and little rivers meandered lazily along, clusters of trees like painted eyebrows nestled by the water’s edge or tucked into the hillsides, sheltering small villages. As the sunlight warmed, the occasional scent would drift over from beside the road — truly a scene of “west wind and jade plumage over the vast desert, osmanthus blossoms in Jiangnan’s August.”

Back when he’d left Tongshan County the month before, he had originally set out on horseback.

For the sake of that horse, over the following month he’d gotten into four major fights, sending more than thirty men, one after another, home with bloodied heads. Turning on someone and throwing hands certainly felt satisfying in the moment, but afterward he couldn’t help feeling a bit deflated.

The reasons behind the fights were simple enough. His appearance looked innocent and gentle, and he wasn’t especially old either, so traveling alone on a fine horse inevitably drew the attention of local toughs running inns and guesthouses along the way — some wanted to steal his horse, some wanted to rob him outright, and some even called in the local constables to pin some trumped-up crime on him and toss him in jail. Over the previous two months, traveling with Lu Wenke and the others in a group, Ning Ji had never run into this kind of trouble; he hadn’t expected that traveling alone would bring on so much of it, and so often.

Even more, some of the people along the way didn’t even seem to be habitual inn-scammers — they simply saw him as someone easy to bully and got ideas. Given Ning Ji’s originally hot-blooded temperament, every one of these people probably deserved to be crippled outright, left to spend the rest of their lives learning what it meant to be prey in a lawless age — but when it actually came down to it, considering who they were, he held back somewhat. The only one he actually left permanently crippled was the constable who had tried to arrest him.

The fourth fight happened while he was leading the horse off to sell it — the horse trader simply seized the animal and refused to pay, and before Ning Ji had even made a move, the man was already shouting that he was the one causing trouble and assaulting people, and rallied half the marketplace to come after him. Ning Ji ran the whole way, and it wasn’t until the middle of the night that he circled back to the horse trader’s house, took all his silver, freed all the horses in the stable, and set the house on fire before striding off. He hadn’t burned down the entire marketplace, which he took as a sign that his temper was mellowing — as his father would put it, his self-restraint was deepening. Yet at the same time, he vaguely understood that people probably hadn’t lived like this in peaceful times — it was the chaos of the age that had twisted them.

Since these incidents had all been rather messy affairs, he hadn’t left behind the name “Long Aotian, the beater of men” in any of them. After these four fights, he’d finally grown weary of the whole business. Having already gotten rid of the fine horse, he simply changed into patched clothing and disguised himself as a poor young man on the road, no longer staying at nicer inns along the way — and sure enough, the harassment stopped entirely after that.

As for joining a merchant caravan, or making friends to travel together with, Ning Ji had deliberately ruled that option out from the start.

And so, by the middle of August, he had finally reached the outskirts of Jiangning.

That day happened to be the fourteenth of August, just one day before the Mid-Autumn Festival. The travelers on the road hurried along, many of them saying they meant to reach Jiangning in time to celebrate the festival inside the city. Ning Ji walked on, stopping here and there, taking in the scenery and whatever lively goings-on he came across along the way, occasionally wandering into a nearby village.

In the more than ten years since the fall of the Central Plains, the Jurchens had twice combed the mountains and searched the seas, carrying out massacres near Jiangning both times, and the sweep of the Fairness Party had brought the fires of war rolling through here as well on several occasions. Most of the villages around Jiangning nowadays bore the scars of past disasters, but under the Fairness Party’s current rule, people had once again settled into villages large and small. Some looked fierce and forbidding, blocking outsiders from entering; others had set up stalls along the road, selling melons, fruit, and sweet drinks to travelers passing through. Each village flew its own banner, and some villages, depending on which part of town, flew several different banners at once — according to the locals, negotiations or outright brawls would occasionally break out among these villages.

Ning Ji absolutely loved this kind of thrilling underworld gossip.

He walked on, eavesdropping the whole way, and whenever he spotted a kindly-looking old auntie or aunt selling snacks by the road, he would go over with a smile to buy a bite to eat, using the chance to ask about the surrounding situation. He had entered territory actually controlled by the Fairness Party the previous afternoon, and by this morning, he had already pieced together quite a bit.

Among the various Fairness Party factions, the relatively open and amiable ones were those of “Fairness King” He Wen and the man flying the banner of “Equality King” Shi Baofeng — they controlled more of the villages along the main roads. The more fierce and forbidding ones were the underlings following “Yama King” Zhou Shang; outside some of the villages under their control, there were even corpses hanging from flagpoles in gruesome states, said to be the remains of local wealthy households after being killed. This Zhou Shang apparently had two names — some said his real name was actually Zhou Shang (殇, meaning “premature death”), a different character with the same pronunciation. Though Ning Ji wasn’t exactly a star student, he knew the difference between the two characters well enough, and felt this alternate name sounded especially menacing, giving off a proper villainous-boss vibe — he was already privately considering whether he should take the man out while he was here, just to make the name “Long Aotian” famous.

“Heavenly King Gao” held relatively little territory — though he did hold some — but reportedly controlled half the total military strength among the factions, which struck Ning Ji as quite formidable. As for “Wheel-Turning King” Xu Zhaonan, he was essentially a lackey of the Great Illumination Sect’s Lin Echan. Word was that the sect leader himself had entered Jiangning in the past couple of days, and the surrounding Great Illumination Sect followers were practically beside themselves with excitement — in some villages, people were even organizing to flood into Jiangning to pay their respects to the sect leader, gongs and drums blaring, firecrackers popping wherever they went. Outsiders thought they’d all gone mad, but no one dared to stand in their way, and so the “Wheel-Turning King” faction’s strength was currently swelling as well.

Though both “Fairness King” He the Petty and “Equality King” Shi the Dungface were relatively open-minded, their respective villages still occasionally had to hash things out — or come to blows — over disputes about toll fees.

“Yama King” Zhou Shang was, by all accounts, a lunatic — but near Jiangning itself, He the Petty and Shi the Dungface had joined forces to keep him in check, so his people didn’t yet dare act out on the main roads; still, the occasional small friction would flare up into something quite ugly.

The troops under “Heavenly King Gao” seemed unlikely to cause major trouble, but in truth, they too frequently meddled in the affairs of other factions, extorting a cut here and there, occasionally jumping into brawls — the trouble was, their loyalties were never quite clear. One day this group would stand with He the Petty; the next day, bought off by Shi the Dungface, they’d be sent to fight Xu Zhaonan instead. A few times they’d even clashed with the lunatics under Zhou Shang, with heavy casualties on both sides.

The entire outskirts of Jiangning were an absolute mess of competing factions — and honestly, Ning Ji loved this feeling far too much! Every so often, hearing people argue themselves red in the face, he could barely resist jumping up to cheer.

A couple of years earlier, he’d fought the Jurchens head-on out on the battlefield, but once he’d come off the battlefield, what he truly loved most was hiding somewhere safe and watching the tigers fight from the mountaintop. Just imagining the current state of Jiangning, he found himself a hidden spot up high to tuck himself away, watching dozens, even hundreds of men below beating each other senseless in the streets — the feeling alone made him tremble with excitement.

Thinking back to what had happened in Chengdu last year — just one night of fighting, and even added all together there hadn’t been more than a few hundred people brawling, and the whole mess had been suppressed by his own side before it even got going properly. He and Big Mouth Yao Shubin had sat around half the night bored out of their minds, only running into two or three troublemakers — how incredibly dull! — But here! Just look at this place! Every so often a hundred people would sit down to negotiate, and if talks broke down, they’d start swinging right then and there! A whole crowd of villains beating each other bloody, and he wouldn’t feel the slightest bit guilty watching! An absolute paradise on earth! Ning Ji clenched his fists, jumping up and down with excitement on an empty stretch of the roadside!

Dad hadn’t come.

Auntie Gua hadn’t come.

Auntie Hong hadn’t come.

Uncle Chen hadn’t come.

Uncle Du hadn’t come.

Big Brother hadn’t come.

Big Mouth Yao Shubin hadn’t come.

Yuwen Feidu and Little Blackie hadn’t come.

…

Such a lively, fascinating place, and he alone had come to see it! Once he got back and told them all about it, they’d be positively green with envy! Of course, Auntie Hong wouldn’t be envious — she’d returned to simplicity and given up worldly desires — but Dad, Auntie Gua, and Big Brother would absolutely die of jealousy!

Ning Ji ran down the road, delighted as a little wild dog, only reining in his excitement once he spotted people up ahead on the main road, then sneaking up close to travelers to eavesdrop on their conversations again.

At noon that day, Ning Ji stopped to rest for a while in the main hall of a roadside post station.

Given the state of the world these days, most ordinary people didn’t really have the habit of eating a midday meal — but traveling far from home was different from staying at home. This particular post station was one of the largest resting points within a stretch of over twenty li in either direction, offering tea, plain rice dishes, and plain water, along with beautifully roasted ducks hanging behind the counter, their fragrance carrying far and wide. Since the entrance bore the signboard of the Baofeng Trading House, and several fierce-looking men sat guard inside, no one dared cause trouble here, and plenty of merchants and men of the martial world had stopped to rest.

Ning Ji spent a good sum to buy half a duck, tucking it into his cloth sack, then ordered a flatbread and sat on a stool in the corner of the hall, eating while listening to a group of martial-world roughnecks loudly boasting away. They were telling stories about a faction inside Jiangning called “Great Dragonhead,” which was apparently about to make a name for itself soon. Ning Ji listened with great interest, itching to raise his hand and join the discussion. As he eavesdropped, the hall filled up with people, and some newcomers shared his table — a big, bearded man carrying a nine-ringed broadsword sat down on the same bench as him, which Ning Ji didn’t mind at all.

“Where are you from, brother?” he asked, thinking the nine-ringed blade looked rather impressive and might come with a good story. He tried, ingratiatingly, to strike up conversation, but the man merely glanced at him and ignored the scruffy-looking young fellow practically sprawled over the table while eating his flatbread.

Rebuffed, Ning Ji found nothing more interesting to say and left him alone.

The man over there telling the “Great Dragonhead” story had started arguing with someone, spittle flying, and there was nothing more worth listening to. Ning Ji was about to finish his flatbread and leave, when a figure outside the door caught his attention.

It was a shaven-headed little monk, even younger than himself, holding a small alms bowl, standing outside the post station, gazing at the roasted ducks behind the counter with a mixture of timidity and longing.

A group of oddly dressed martial-world men were coming in from outside, dressed in a way that strongly resembled the brain-dead style favored by “Yama King” Zhou Shang’s crowd. The one leading them reached out from behind to shove the little monk’s shoulder, saying something that sounded like “get lost” or similar. The little monk swallowed hard and stepped aside.

The brain-dead martial-world men never actually touched his shoulder, since the little monk had already stepped out of the way, and they swaggered on inside. Aside from Ning Ji, no one else had noticed anything odd about the moment. He then watched the little monk walk toward the post station, press his palms together in a bow, and ask the staff inside for alms. He was promptly and rudely thrown out.

A faint breeze was gathering.

This was a small, unremarkable incident that took place at midday on the fourteenth of August, just outside the city of Jiangning.