The moon gradually shifted from the eastern sky toward the west, sinking down toward the dark horizon at the edge of sight.
As the night wore on, wisps of fog gathered bit by bit in the riverside city.
The night mist was damp and cold. Under the bridge tunnel by the waterway, a small fire always had to be lit to drive off some of the dampness. Every night before sleep, Xue Jin had to drag his lame leg around, limping about to gather sticks and firewood. Jiangning had little woodland left, and now with all manner of people crowded together, and trade and logistics thrown into chaos both within and beyond the city, this task had grown increasingly difficult and exhausting.
After lying down, he always worried the fire would gradually die out, and would get up once to add more fuel. Eventually, overcome with exhaustion, he would drift hazily into sleep, and in his dreams he would see so many family members still alive—his principal wife, several concubines, the children at home. Moon Girl was there too, from not long after he’d bought her freedom from the brothel…
In his dreams he saw them—gathered around the table, in the house, preparing to eat, the children rocking on their bamboo hobbyhorses. He smiled, wanting to speak to them, but somewhere deep down he felt something was wrong, some vague worry gnawing at him.
He turned around, and a dark mass of people surged forward. Stones struck his head, ringing dully in his ears; the women and children were beaten down into pools of blood, beaten to death while still alive… He crouched in a corner, then fell to his knees, kowtowing, shouting: “I once struck the Demon on the head, I struck the Demon…” The curious crowd let him live.
And after that…
…He woke from the cold. The sky was a pale gray, morning mist curling over the nearby waterway.
Xue Jin sat in a daze for a while, recalling the faces of his family and children from the dream. These days, every time such memories surfaced, it felt as if his heart were being scraped raw from inside his chest. Every time, he would clutch his head, wanting to wail aloud, but mindful of Moon Girl lying beside him, he only let his face contort with grief, pressing down on his head, holding back any sound.
Those memories, in truth, grew hazier by the day. More often now, all he could feel was a churning pain in his mind—as if that pain had gradually taken on a concrete shape of its own, replacing everyone who had once lived there…
Wiping the wetness from the corners of his eyes, he turned and began carefully adding sticks to the embers of the fire. Moon Girl lay beside him, sleeping in a daze.
On the day the crowd flying “King of Hell’s” banner had rushed the platform, Moon Girl, young and pretty, had been dragged into a nearby alley; and it was precisely because of this that, after enduring unspeakable violation, she had by sheer chance survived. By the time Xue Jin found her… whether this—this kind of survival—counted as fortune or misfortune, no one could say. Her mind had become unsound, her body terribly weak, and every time Xue Jin looked at her, his heart was wrung with anguish.
But every time, he still had to look at her closely. He watched her chest rise and fall faintly, her lips parted, a weak breath escaping—these signs could only be seen if one looked very carefully, but they told him she was still alive.
Every day lived was another day of suffering endured, but apart from living on like this, he didn’t know what else to do. He knew Moon Girl’s suffering was even greater than his own, but if she were gone, there would truly be nothing left in this world for him at all.
He tended the fire, confirming out of the corner of his eye that Moon Girl was still alive, and so today, once again, nothing much had changed… He recalled that last night had been the fifteenth of the eighth month, and there had been fireworks—perhaps this morning, he might be able to beg a slightly better meal. He wasn’t entirely sure of this, but back in more peaceful times, beggars had seemed to fare that way…
Having fed a few more sticks into the fire, Xue Jin’s gaze drifted past Moon Girl’s body, and he noticed, with a start, that something seemed to have been placed near her.
He crawled slowly over, and finally discovered it was some medicine wrapped in paper—ten packets in all, marked with dosing instructions for the day, meant to help restore Moon Girl’s health.
It seemed that last night, someone had come to this bridge tunnel, checked on Moon Girl’s condition, and left these things behind.
Xue Jin crawled to his feet and turned in confused, limping circles under the bridge for a moment, then stumbled out. His body trembled as he looked in different directions, but everywhere was nothing but hazy mist. He let out a few low “ah, ah” sounds, wanting to speak, but his battered mind couldn’t properly form the right words. For a long, long while he simply turned in bewildered circles by the misty bridge tunnel, unable to get a single word out…
…
At dawn, Ning Ji had already gotten his directions sorted out.
He set off from the Su family’s old estate, jogging steadily toward the Qinhuai River.
This was something his father had once done, and by repeating it a few times, he might be able to find the spot where old Master Qin had once set up his chess stall, or the little riverside building where Auntie Zhu and Auntie Jin had once lived.
At his age, though he was curious about his parents’ past life, that curiosity naturally had its limits. But having arrived in Jiangning without much of a concrete purpose for now, doing this sort of thing, and stringing everything together along the way, seemed as good a way as any to pass the time—and in the process, some next step might naturally reveal itself.
The pale, milky morning mist drifted through the city like mountain ranges, like a veil of illusion, stirred gently by the breeze. With the wretched sights of the distance hidden away, Jiangning within the fog seemed, for a brief moment, to return to its former self.
It was still early, and there weren’t many people on the roads. By the time he reached the banks of the Qinhuai River, the mist was still drifting over the calm water; as he ran forward, the eaves and outlines of buildings gradually “sailed” out of the fog, like great ships floating on the water’s surface.
This peaceful scene lasted only a moment. After running for a while, he began to notice the discordant details of the city: no sound of chickens or dogs—such creatures had already vanished from the city entirely. Along both sides of the road, most of the trees once planted along the riverbank had been cut down, some leaving only stumps too difficult to dig out. Many tents were pitched by the roadside, and every so often coughing could be heard through the mist, with people lighting fires beside their tents in the early morning to ward off the heavy damp.
He ran along the dilapidated riverside road for a while, nearly stepping into a muddy puddle, when he heard strange music drifting through his ears.
Running on a bit further, strange figures and banners emerged from the mist ahead—some blowing horns, some playing flutes, many in the procession dressed in bizarre garb, like heavenly deities or underworld enforcers. This was a procession of pilgrims under the “Wheel-Turning King’s” banner, already out parading in the early morning. Since Lin Wuchan had arrived in Jiangning, these followers had only grown more numerous. Ning Ji knew they were currently quite full of themselves, fighting the other four factions for territory.
He stepped aside to stand and take stock of these people. The crowd hummed and chanted something like the “Sutra of the Bright King’s Descent” and other such jumbled scripture, and some fellow dressed as a wrathful vajra deity glared at him as he sang and danced past. Ning Ji curled his lip—hope you all get your brains beaten out. Not worth arguing with fools.
The procession numbered perhaps a hundred or so, likely gathering more followers as it went. Ning Ji watched them pass, and running on a little further, faint sounds began drifting through the mist.
“Waaah…”
“There’s a hole here…”
“Where…”
“Watch out…”
Splash—
“Don’t step on me…”
“Your mother…”
After a burst of chaotic noise, the sounds of horns and flutes gradually resumed.
Ning Ji burst out laughing like a pig.
Continuing on, he still had no clue where the chess stall might have been, or where the little building might have stood—perhaps his father had jogged in the opposite direction each morning, but that hardly mattered. He ran on a while longer, and along the riverbank he began to see a stretch of fire-scarred ruined houses—likely an area that had suffered particularly badly from the ravages of war after the city fell. Ahead, along the riverside road, a few figures were warming themselves by a fire, and someone was poking a long pole into the river, fishing something out.
Seeing Ning Ji slowly jogging toward them, someone stood up, reached out a hand, and blocked his path.
“Which… mountain… you from…”
The man had a mouthful of rotten teeth, drawing out the word “which” with unusual flair. Ning Ji recognized this as martial-world code—the proper response was usually a line of poetry, but seeing that Ning Ji looked harmless enough, the man had simply tossed the question out casually.
“Can’t pass through here?” Ning Ji glanced ahead—the riverside road was desolate, with a few tents pitched nearby; he hadn’t really planned on going further that way anyway.
Someone came up from behind, blocking him.
“Well now, little brother, dressed pretty nice—whose young master are you, lost your way?”
“You call this dressed nice?”
Ning Ji widened his eyes and tugged at his patched clothing.
“Those shoes of yours look pretty good to me…” the man in front said with a smirk. “You, kid, must be—”
BOOM—a thunderous crash, and the man blocking his path went flying backward like a cannonball, his body rolling along the road before crashing straight into the burning campfire. Amid the mist, sparks and burning branches exploded in every direction, flames bursting skyward.
In that instant, Ning Ji had kicked with almost his full strength, striking the man squarely in the stomach.
On the road ahead, the banner of “Avīci Prime Butcher,” one of the “Seven Killers” under “King of Hell,” fluttered faintly.
Ning Ji’s gaze was cold. His foot touched down, and he tilted his head slightly.
The man who’d blocked him from behind froze for a moment, then suddenly drew his blade with a roar that split through the morning mist.
He lunged forward a step; Ning Ji stepped back, spun around, and seized the blade from his grip in one motion—the cast-iron spine of the blade crashed against the man’s forehead with a resounding thud. The man staggered a few steps and collapsed. Ahead, the others had already charged forward; the one in the lead was sent tumbling to the ground with a thud, scattering the fog around him.
Along this stretch of riverbank, the mist grew wild and chaotic. Someone was knocked into the burning ruins nearby; someone else plunged into the Qinhuai River, splashing wildly amid the water-fog; someone else crashed through a tent, screams and shrieks erupting all around, one figure crawling backward across the ground.
“Who are you—! If you’ve got the guts, leave your name! Leave your name! My master is ‘King of Hell’—he won’t let you off! We’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth and kill you, kill your whole family—”
Ning Ji walked forward, blade in hand, and saw a ragged woman and child crawling out of a nearby tent. The woman had a knife in her hand too, apparently prepared to help fend off the attacker alongside the others. Ning Ji watched this scene with a cold gaze, and his steps came to a stop.
His eyes swept the surroundings—people crawling out of the ruins, people still rolling on the ground, wailing. He walked to one side, picked up a still-burning branch from the ground, walked over to the “Avīci Prime Butcher” flagpole, chopped it down with one stroke of the blade, and used the branch to set it alight.
Seeing this, the people around began wailing again. Getting a banner that could be flown openly and legitimately within Jiangning city wasn’t easy in itself—they simply hadn’t expected to run into this kind of murderous demon before their territory had even had a chance to grow.
“Go tell your daddy—from now on, every one of you scum I catch doing evil, I’ll kill on sight!”
“This young lord doesn’t change his name or hide his surname—call me… Long! Ao! Tian!”
The flames climbed up the banner and then blazed fiercely.
…
By the time more of “King of Hell’s” men arrived, Ning Ji had already run off.
He felt the bravado of “Long Aotian” hadn’t come through quite forcefully enough—the main problem was he shouldn’t have opened with “doesn’t change his name or hide his surname” in the first place. After saying it, he’d suddenly felt a flicker of self-consciousness, and turning it over in his head several times, he decided he shouldn’t say that particular line so solemnly again in the future—just announcing “Long Aotian” would do.
But regardless, his handsome, heroic name would finally be making its mark on the martial world!
This was the first day of his reign as “Wulin Alliance Leader” Long Aotian, striking terror throughout the martial world!
That’s right, he’d already decided on his title—”Wulin Alliance Leader.” If anyone had objections, he’d simply say his own sect was called the “Wulin Alliance,” and as the head of the Wulin Alliance, being called the Alliance Leader was only perfectly reasonable. No one would be able to argue against that logic—the thought alone was quite satisfying.
Of course, the main reason he’d struck out so viciously just now wasn’t really to build his reputation—it was that after seeing Xue Jin and the woman beside him last night, some accumulated fury had needed an outlet.
Before coming to Jiangning, he had first thought about taking down that giant fool He Wen—though that was more of a long-term life goal, and whether he could actually pull it off wasn’t something he was too fixated on. Along the way, he’d also made an enemy of “Shit Baby” over at “Baofeng Trading,” and had thought about eliminating “Monkey King” Li Jianfeng, who had all sorts of tangled ties with the Great Radiance Sect. But right now, it was this bunch under “King of Hell” Zhou Shang that had particularly stoked his fury.
If the chance arose, taking down Zhou Shang, or wiping out a few of his so-called “Seven Killers,” certainly wouldn’t hurt anyone innocent.
Beyond that, everything else fell squarely within the domain of Long Aotian making a name for himself.
He thought back to the little monk he’d met outside the city.
Some time from now, when the little monk heard the name “Wulin Alliance Leader” Long Aotian around the city, he’d surely be utterly astonished, since he had no idea Ning Ji had any martial skill at all. Heh heh heh, next time they met, he’d definitely make him kowtow and call him big brother…
And later still, when his father heard the name Long Aotian back in the Southwest, he’d know just what kind of achievements his son had made out here in the martial world. Of course, his father might also hear the name “Sun Wukong” instead and send someone to drag him home, only to accidentally grab the wrong person…
Hahahahahaha—
Hands on his hips, Ning Ji laughed silently to himself for a good while there in the misty road. Since there was no telling how many people might still be sleeping just beyond the mist nearby, he didn’t dare actually laugh out loud.
The great demon lord’s reign of terror was about to begin—the martial world would never be the same… (A note to self, from Long Aotian)
…
Morning light dissolved the thick fog, and the wind pushed the waves aside, making the city a little brighter. Near the western gate of the city, the little monk, carrying his alms bowl, had entered the city at the earliest possible hour and now stood outside one breakfast stall after another, begging for alms.
He actually still had a little silver on him, left behind by his master when they’d parted ways, meant for emergencies. It wasn’t much, and the little monk hoarded it stingily, only spending a bit when he was truly starving. The fat master didn’t actually care how he obtained his silver—he could kill, rob, beg for alms, or even panhandle outright—the important thing was that he had to handle these matters himself.
At this moment, he found himself missing the young hero Dragon from the day before yesterday quite a lot—if only there were still someone around to treat him to roast duck!
Also, he had no idea how his master was doing in the city right now.
But after a while, as he begged half a bowl of thin porridge from a “Wheel-Turning King” charity stand, he happened to hear some news about his master…
…
South of the city, at the Dongsheng Inn.
“Looking for Chen San.”
A figure dressed as a man—actually a woman in disguise—walked into the inn and announced her purpose to the waiter.
After a while, You Hongzhuo came down from upstairs and spotted Liang Siyi in the hall below.
Seeing him, Liang Siyi turned and left; You Hongzhuo followed behind. After turning down several streets, he arrived at a residence, where he met An Xifu, the deeply trusted deputy of Wang Juyun.
“General An…”
“Hero You, I’ve long heard of your name.” The two men clasped their hands in greeting; An Xifu smiled. “Siyi told me she’d spotted you in the city. For certain reasons, she couldn’t reveal much to you, but I’ve had past dealings with Hero Shi and the others—Hero Shi once mentioned you, saying that although you’ve never served in the military, you’re someone worth trusting.”
You Hongzhuo nodded. Back in Jin territory, the Eight-Armed Dragon King had once shown him kindness and guidance, and had spoken of many things—there was no need for false modesty now.
“I’d heard this Jiangning gathering was a complicated affair. I’d assumed Jin territory was too far away to send anyone, so I came to scout things out on my own, planning to report back in detail to Lord Lou and Hero Shi afterward. I never expected General An himself would come in person. Could it be that Jin territory and the Fair Party actually have such significant ties?”
Though You Hongzhuo made his living wandering the martial world, he was sharp-minded and had seen a great deal. This Fair Party gathering was certainly significant, but given their usual patterns of behavior, this whole region was closed off and chaotic—any neighboring faction sending representatives had good reason to do so. Jin territory, however, was so far away that even with an established connection, there seemed little strong reason for real involvement. So he genuinely hadn’t expected that the one to show up would be someone as important as An Xifu.
An Xifu smiled. “Our Lady Chancellor has established contact with Zou Xu, who’s currently in the arms trade. If this upcoming battle at Bianliang goes Zou Xu’s way, there might well be a trade route opening up between Jin territory and Jiangnan.”
“Ah.” You Hongzhuo recalled the state of affairs in the Central Plains and nodded.
The two of them sat down and began discussing the complicated situation within Jiangning city.