The drizzling cold rain had turned into the warm sun of daytime, and as the sun rose on the morning of September 7th, Jiangning had already enjoyed several clear days in a row.

The favorable weather had given the muddy roads in the city a chance to temporarily improve, and with security on the mend and the heroes’ assembly now formally underway, the streets of Jiangning saw even more foot traffic — the closer one got to the city center, the denser the crowds became. Many of the wine shops and teahouses that had previously seemed tense now displayed scenes of packed tables and bustling business. Though minor disturbances still occasionally flared up, large-scale unrest had, for the time being, come to a halt.

Around eight in the morning, Yan Yunzhi stepped out of the inn where she was staying.

The young woman from an assassin family wore a relatively plain gray outfit, her long hair wrapped up in a blue headscarf, carrying a somewhat aged, wide-sheathed longsword, her face lightly disguised. At a glance, she looked like nothing more than an unremarkable young swordsman freshly entering the martial world. Though slight and thin in build, in times like these, plenty of people simply didn’t get enough to eat.

The ribs she’d broken during the chaos at the Golden Tower that night had already been set and had mostly healed by now; her daily movements no longer caused much hindrance, though vigorous activity still brought some pain.

That chaotic night had made her acutely aware of the real gap between herself and the great masters of the martial world, but on the other hand, that brush with life and death had, in a more grounded way, worn away the initial wave of impulsive anger in her heart, allowing her to face her surroundings with a calmer, more rational state of mind.

Over these past few days, as she walked the nearby streets, the sharp edge that had once been so plainly visible about her was gone; she now blended in more naturally as an ordinary person among the crowd. If another incident like the Golden Tower were to happen again, she couldn’t say she’d escape the notice of masters like Jin Yongsheng or Li Yanfeng entirely, but at the very least, her chances of staying hidden had improved somewhat.

She’d also come to a deeper understanding of the many principles behind her family’s inherited “Tan Sword Technique.”

At a teahouse near the street corner, she bought a few copies of that day’s newspaper, then went up to the teahouse to read the paper while eating breakfast.

The sun was warm and pleasant, and the teahouse in the early morning buzzed with noise, full of people loudly discussing whatever was in the papers. Jiangning’s newspapers had only appeared less than half a year earlier, and over the past few months there hadn’t been much in the way of serious reporting — most of what got published was either hearsay gossip or crude fiction imported from the southwest. It was only once the heroes’ assembly opened in September that a good portion of the coverage shifted to the life stories of various up-and-coming heroes, giving the papers something more substantial to work with.

This was a propaganda technique learned from the southwest the previous year, most likely paid for by one faction or another within the Fair Party — but the inflammatory language and fabricated biographies, combined with certain ceremonially grand-sounding technique names like “Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms,” were still more than enough to get the city’s gossip-hungry crowds worked up.

Add to that the profitable wanted-and-bounty roundups tucked into the back pages of certain papers, and it was already enough for the martial-world types currently in the city to piece together one grand, sprawling picture of the underworld.

At the neighboring tables, people were discussing exactly these matters.

“…Yesterday afternoon, at Arena C-6, this Wang Xiangfo showed up — let me tell you, that guy’s something else, he already made a name for himself in the southwest last year… Old Man Liutong personally commented on his skills back then…”

“Exactly, exactly, this Wang Xiangfo goes by ‘Fist Fanatic’ — his skills are truly formidable, already reached master-level realm… A while back, Equality King’s side had this ‘Iron Fist’ Ni Po, supposedly with both fists honed to perfection, the hot favorite to win it all — well, he ran into Wang Xiangfo and got beaten into a bloody pulp… couldn’t even stand back up…”

“…The tournament’s only just started, so there’s no ranking of top fighters yet, but according to the betting boards at the Mandarin Duck House, this Wang Xiangfo could well be in the top ten on the master ranking. That black-market bounty list from a while back — I bet the top spot on there is about the same position…”

“…Hey hey hey, that black-market list might not mean much — the guy currently at the top of it apparently killed some thug under Liu Guangshi’s command. The papers say his lightness-footwork rivals ‘Cold Crow’s,’ but nobody even knows his real name… how do you even compare that? Comparing nothing to nothing…”

“That number-two spot, the Mountain Bandit, isn’t nothing though — his blood-red blade loves wiping out entire families, and word in the martial world is his blade technique traces back to the old Overlord Blade himself… If you ask me, Wang Xiangfo might not even be able to beat this Mountain Bandit…”

“…One uses fists, the other uses a blade — well, of course, at first glance, the blade user seems more vicious…”

“…That black-market list is just paid placement anyway, you lot are just bored… Wickedness is measured by ruthlessness of heart, not necessarily by skill level. Take you lot, for instance — if you killed the son of that southwest devil, who couldn’t even lift a chicken, it wouldn’t take much effort at all, and your bounty would still be number one in the realm. And besides, this black-market list only covers the villains of Jiangnan — it’s hardly objective…”

“…Exactly, exactly. If we’re talking about bounty amounts, you know about Zou Xu? For two years now Liu Guangshi’s been trying his hardest to please the southwest, buying up enormous quantities of military supplies, spending well over a million taels. The southwest told him — kill Zou Xu, and we’ll give you back twenty percent of that. Just imagine how much Zou Xu must be worth. Can you really say Zou Xu isn’t the top of the black-market list, worldwide? Could he even go head-to-head with Sect Leader Lin?”

“…Now, about that, I have something to say. If we’re really talking about paying your way onto the black-market list, then the number one spot would actually be quite convincing to most people… Think about it, who else could be more hated than Master Ning of the southwest — the man who killed the Emperor, after all. Back in the day, the Central Plains raised an army a million strong just to try to claim the bounty on his head. So compare that — the Demon and the Sect Leader, doesn’t that measure up? ‘Iron Arm’ Zhou Tong and the Demon, back in the day, were sworn friends across generations — they say the first time they met, they made a pact for three punches each, both sides going all out with their strongest blows, and after three punches, neither could get the better of the other; and later, that arrogant ‘Ferocious King of Hell’ Lu Tuo, who thought he had no equal, ran into the Demon too, and was killed outright with a single move, the ‘Overturning-Heaven Seal’…”

“…The Demon and the Sect Leader really might be comparable in skill — but Master Ning’s been busy handling government affairs in the southwest all these years, hasn’t he lost his edge a bit?”

“…Let me say something fair here… the Demon’s a special case, the ones lower down are literally just money piled up on top of each other, it depends purely on how much money the enemy has. The black-market list is basically just there to attract hatred… Look at those two in the teens, that Five-Foot Pervert and Four-Foot Pervert — they’re not even that old, and what they’ve done is just filthy stuff, seducing women, drugging them, sneaking into rooms at night — how skilled could they really be?”

“…That’s not right at all — those two, the Five-Foot and Four-Foot, aren’t your ordinary lechers, their sect background is quite formidable—”

“…Don’t talk nonsense, since when has there been a sect for lechers in this world.”

“…That’s where you’re wrong… how else would little perverts be born, if not from big perverts!?”

“…Hahahahahahahahaha…”

The crowd chattered away, cracking jokes left and right, and the whole teahouse filled with a cheerful atmosphere. Amid all this, Yan Yunzhi glanced over the bounty notices for the two Perverts in the paper without any change of expression, then quietly folded up the ink-scented sheet.

There wasn’t much reliable news to be had from these papers, but as long as the bounty remained posted, it at least proved that strange fellow was still alive.

After a while, the two brothers she’d arranged to meet earlier, Han Ping and Han Yun, came up from downstairs. They too had their own business in Jiangning, and lately the three of them had been meeting up every day or two, which had given Yan Yunzhi access to some relatively reliable sources of information.

Since Fair King He Wen had entered the city at the end of August, there hadn’t been much unusual movement in the official news out of Jiangning. On the first of September, He Wen had raised several key questions at the Fair Party’s internal assembly; by the third, at the second assembly, the various factions had begun putting forward their individual demands one by one, followed by private negotiations and maneuvering among all sides.

Broadly speaking, the basic desire for the five factions to come together, set aside their differences, and consolidate their strength into one united force still held. The method for achieving this, naturally, drew on the southwest’s experience — forming some kind of consultative assembly where everyone would “discuss things together,” with each of the five factions giving a little ground to arrive at a basic arrangement everyone could live with. This was the expected, conventional course of events, and also the most likely outcome going forward.

Once this went through, the Fair Party’s cohesion would rise even further — the five (or more) factions that had previously fought their own separate battles would, for a time, come together under one unified regime, potentially becoming one of the strongest forces in the entire realm, in numbers perhaps even rivaling the Huaxia regime in the southwest, and not weak in combat strength either.

Naturally, there were also some unexpected undercurrents.

For instance, “Yama King” Zhou Shang’s faction — the most murderous, most extreme of them all — had proven the most difficult at these recent assemblies. At the first assembly, after He Wen raised the Fair Party’s basic problems, the other three factions had mostly harbored their own agendas, deflecting with vague platitudes, but had at least, in turn, put forward their own demands, showing some willingness to compromise and negotiate. Only Zhou Shang’s faction had flatly declared at the assembly that “overcorrection is necessary,” even claiming the other factions’ attitudes were inadequate and their methods insufficiently thorough.

Over the following days, it was again Yama King’s faction that kept repeating this same argument, and word had it that privately, their stance was even more hardline, with some even saying “if we’re going to merge, it has to be done our way” — making them the most unpopular of the five factions.

In the past, people had criticized Yama King for his extremism, but some little-known information had also come out privately, suggesting that Zhou Shang himself paid very close attention to Master Ning’s theories from the southwest. He’d apparently thought it through carefully and concluded that both He Wen and Ning Yi were too soft and fussy, too ignorant of human nature to ever accomplish anything — which was why he’d chosen this extreme approach instead. And at this point, it did seem like there was some possibility he might be right.

Of course, on a practical level, the most important consideration for any ideology was whether it actually worked. Zhou Shang’s extremism had already cost his faction points from the start, and by the seventh, after three rounds of assembly meetings in Jiangning, most people believed the most likely outcome going forward was for the five factions to compromise with each other and form a unified regime — and that if that failed, the likely alternative would be for He Wen, Gao Chang, Xu Zhaonan, and Shi Baofeng to jointly carve up Zhou Shang’s faction, eliminating the troublemaker before uniting the rest.

Because of this prediction, over the past several days, some of the smaller factions that had originally aligned with Zhou Shang had been courted by the other sides — but Zhou Shang himself remained unmoved, and some even firmly believed that if it came to war, his ranks would only swell.

By comparison, Fair King He Wen’s side, which had been the subject of all sorts of rumors before entering the city, had conducted itself in an overall composed and balanced manner. Apart from coming across somewhat forceful when he first raised his questions, he had, in the days since, listened carefully to every side’s views, speaking in a way that showed deep mastery of the art of alliance-building. This kind of conduct had given everyone a great sense of reassurance — as long as the Fair King himself didn’t do anything reckless, the overall unity of the Fair Party would likely hold, even with a troublemaker like Zhou Shang in the mix; at worst, they’d simply have to kill him. But if the Fair King himself harbored any truly unorthodox ambitions, then the entire Fair Party splintering apart was a genuine possibility.

“…But the Fair King hasn’t laid out his full plan yet. Everyone thinks he’s probably waiting until all sides have made their positions clear before putting forward some proposal that won’t offend too many people, to open up for discussion…”

The elder of the two “brothers,” Yue Yinping, going by the alias Han Ping, spoke clearly and methodically to Yan Yunzhi as she ate her breakfast.

“…As for how things stand with your family, we made some specific inquiries. Yan Tie and Second Brother Yan were introduced by Shi Baofeng and have already been participating in the Fair Party’s second assembly… Given that situation, whether for the sake of face or substance, I don’t think Shi Baofeng’s side would let the Yan family suffer too much. As long as you, Miss Yan, don’t show up, the Shi family is the one in the wrong here — so you needn’t worry too much about your family.”

Since the chaos that night at the Golden Tower, Yan Yunzhi’s mental state had shifted somewhat. She was seventeen this year, and having already been through a fair amount, her temperament — coming from the Yan family stronghold — had naturally been proud and headstrong. But the upheaval in Tongshan, combined with all the gossip after she’d entered the city, had left her deeply distressed, and the frivolous behavior shown by Shi Weiyang, the man she might have been forced to marry, had become unbearable to her. In a fit of anger she’d fled, wanting to do something — to kill Li Yanfeng, or Long Aotian, and avenge herself against the two men she blamed for putting her in such a humiliating position.

But the battle at the Golden Tower had ultimately shown her the gap between fantasy and reality — Li Yanfeng had broken her ribs with what was, for him, a casual blow, and she’d barely managed to escape at all. And the sheer killing intent shown by that young man called Long Aotian in his fight with Li Yanfeng, not to mention the bearing displayed by all the masters gathered on that street that night — all of it was far beyond anything she could hope to match anytime soon. Only then had she truly come to understand where she actually stood.

In the past, practicing the family’s “Tan Sword Technique,” her elders had always said that the way of the assassin was to strike the strong with the weak — that as long as you found the right moment and observed sharply, even a grandmaster of the martial world could be killed when caught off guard. She’d always viewed her own skills this way. But amid that chaotic, violent scene, she’d come to truly realize that, given her current level of experience and cultivation, even if she wanted to strike the strong with the weak, she simply didn’t have the seasoned instinct to seize such a moment.

If she wanted revenge, wanted justice, she needed far greater skill — and that kind of skill and cultivation wasn’t something that could be conjured up through mere imagination in her head.

Having realized this, she’d adjusted her goals for this stay in Jiangning. As for Li Yanfeng, she no longer planned to rush into an assassination attempt. As for Long Aotian from the southwest, she still wanted to find a chance to confront him with questions, but she’d also come to accept that she wouldn’t be able to kill him anytime soon. Leaving home over that one moment of anger, breaking off her engagement to Shi Weiyang — that choice had been the right one, but what lay ahead now was, it seemed, a much longer road through the martial world. And someday, she would reclaim all of this, one debt at a time.

Having worked all this through in her mind, she’d thanked Han Ping and Han Yun, and also apologized for her own immature decision to go watch the spectacle at the Golden Tower.

For her part, Yinping had originally saved the girl out of nothing more than a chivalrous impulse, and the intervention on the street outside the Golden Tower had likewise just been a bit of help within her means. But having witnessed this shift in the girl’s temperament, she’d come to hold her in considerably higher regard.

Yinping, now nearing twenty, had spent her entire adolescence, much like Yue Yun, amid the upheaval of military life. Women tend to mature early in temperament, and having lived through the chaos of battle and handled no small amount of administrative work within the army, her martial skill — the authentic “Five Steps, Thirteen Spears” technique passed down from Zhou Tong himself — had few rivals among the younger generation. The joke Yue Yun had once made about sending her into the palace to become a “princess consort” stemmed precisely from the fact that, given her temperament and judgment, she was in fact the most suitable candidate to become Jun Wu’s personal bodyguard.

Of course, partly because a trusted general like Yue Fei needed to avoid any appearance of favoritism, and partly because Jun Wu, having grown considerably more mature himself, was unwilling to ruin a young woman’s life in such a manner, the idea had never been carried out. But compared to her brother Yue Yun, who was blessed with prodigious natural strength but not much else going on upstairs, she, as the elder sister, was truly a woman of both literary and martial accomplishment, with exceptional judgment.

To her, the fact that some young woman had shown a flash of impulsiveness or courage in a moment of anger wasn’t, in itself, enough to earn her admiration — impulsiveness and courage were, after all, far more likely to get someone killed than to help them mature.

But the fact that, after such a burst of courage and impulsiveness, the girl had managed to calm herself down again and carefully reflect on and measure the true nature of the world — that was what gave her a genuine chance at accomplishing something in the future. And it was this that had shifted Yinping’s attitude toward Yan Yunzhi, from mere observation to genuine appreciation.

She and Yue Yun had come along with Zuo Xiuquan, ostensibly on a mission to forge alliances as well. The day before, while gathering information, they’d happened to inquire about the Yan family’s situation, and now, sharing what they’d learned, they managed to put Yan Yunzhi somewhat at ease. The three of them then moved on to discussing various rumors circulating beyond the main political currents — talk of extreme statements from the so-called “Reading Society,” some movements from emerging factions outside the five great ones like the “Great Dragonhead” group — and eventually, Yue Yun brought up a rumor with some relevance to Yan Yunzhi herself.

“…I heard something last night, not sure yet if it’s true or not — apparently yesterday afternoon, on Wheel King’s side, Meng Zhutao and that Monkey King Li Yanfeng got into quite a serious fight.”

“Meng Zhutao…” Yan Yunzhi frowned, thinking. “Why would he and Li Yanfeng fight?”

“Apparently, that night at the Golden Tower, when Liu Guangshi’s chief envoy Gu Anhe was assassinated, several of Meng Zhutao’s junior martial siblings were involved. Afterward, when they failed to catch the culprit, Li Yanfeng, as deputy envoy, used the incident to make trouble for Meng Zhutao. Wheel King Xu Zhaonan ended up promising quite a few favors to get Li Yanfeng to drop it, and Li Yanfeng came out of it well ahead — lately various factions have been courting him, and his standing has risen a great deal. Meng Zhutao, on the other hand, still hasn’t handed over his junior siblings, and there’s been plenty of private talk about it. Li Yanfeng, young and full of himself, might have gotten a bit carried away and said something wrong yesterday — Meng Zhutao spoke up right there and challenged him to a match, testing his skill against Li Yanfeng’s White Ape Through-the-Arm technique.”

“‘Ruler of Heaven’ is known for his weapon skill,” Yan Yunzhi said. “Li Yanfeng’s real strength lies in his hand-to-hand combat. So what happened next?”

“I hear Xu Zhaonan didn’t stop it, and Lin Zongwu didn’t say anything either — everyone out here proves themselves with their hands, after all, so even though Meng Zhutao was clearly using the incident as a pretext, Li Yanfeng nodded and agreed to it. The result… the two of them fought bare-handed, and ‘Monkey King’ Li Yanfeng ended up coughing blood and collapsing, a crushing defeat.”

Yue Yun grinned as he finished the story, and Yan Yunzhi’s eyes widened. She thought back to that night outside the Golden Tower, when she’d seen Meng Zhutao — his shoulder wounded, and though she could sense his commanding presence, he’d fought in a rather subdued, half-hearted manner throughout. Because of that, she hadn’t felt anywhere near the same threat and pressure from him that she had from Li Yanfeng. She never would have guessed that he could beat Li Yanfeng — a man famed for his monkey-style boxing — to the point of coughing blood, even without using his signature ruler-staff weapon.

Just how high was this man’s skill, exactly?

“This only happened last night,” Yue Yun said. “We can’t be entirely sure yet whether the news is true, but if it is, it should be spreading through the city by this afternoon… Hah, that night at the Golden Tower, he first killed Monk Tanji, then beat one of his own junior brothers half to death — I keep feeling like he’s been holding back. If I ever get the chance, I really ought to have a proper match with him…”

Yue Yun, young and full of vigor, had spent years training in his boxing techniques and was practically bursting with energy — these past few days, whenever he ran into a great master, he could barely restrain himself from challenging them on the spot. But having come along on a mission this time, and being Yue Fei’s son with a sensitive status to consider, he couldn’t afford to act on impulse, and could only vent his enthusiasm through idle chatter for now.

He went on commenting first on Li Yanfeng, then on Meng Zhutao, and after a while the conversation shifted to that formidable fighter from the tournament, Wang Xiangfo. “This guy’s got real skill,” he said, launching into an animated speculation about how a match between the two of them might go, displaying no small degree of martial insight in the process. Yan Yunzhi listened attentively at his side.

And so, as the sun climbed higher, the teahouse buzzed on inside and out, and Jiangning entered another lively day of its bustling martial arts tournament. For now, the city’s various factions were keeping their actions in check — the conflicts and brawls of August seemed to have all but vanished, as the Fair Party’s people waited for the assembly to reach some smooth conclusion, gathering their strength together into something greater. Only within the hearts of certain figures near the top of the Fair Party’s hierarchy, at this moment, was a quiet unease beginning to brew.

Around midday, an inconspicuous thread of a lead was slowly beginning to extend forward, in some nearly forgotten corner of the city.

……

“Damn it… get out! Everyone get out—”

As the sun climbed toward its zenith, from within a courtyard at the Gathering Worthies Inn in Zhong’an Ward, a young man’s furious voice rang out.

Two women, hurriedly dressed, fled the room in a fluster, and inside, Shi Weiyang’s face was left looking hollow, dejected, and furious all at once.

All around, the surrounding courtyards fell noticeably quiet for the moment.

Since He Wen’s arrival in the city, the various factions had wrapped up their earlier phase of drumming up support and recruiting followers, moving into a new, more intense, and more cautious stage of maneuvering. Openly, the city’s tournament arenas had already begun their bloody contests, and day by day, whether out of a desire to watch the spectacle or to network and forge connections, people’s attention had shifted increasingly toward these livelier public venues — the kind of behind-the-scenes networking that had once dominated places like the Gathering Worthies Inn had, for the time being, quieted down.

Also because of this, as the sun rose higher, the various visitors who’d once stayed here, feasting and entertaining guests daily, had all now gone off to the more bustling venues centered around the tournament arena — having come to Jiangning, their first order of business, naturally, was to build connections with the Equality King, forming alliances and getting to know one another better.

And once this basic foothold was secured, people naturally didn’t mind expanding their horizons to meet more heroes from across the realm — perhaps some other faction would offer better terms, or some other business opportunity would prove more suitable to join. Either way, worst case, they could always fall back on the Equality King’s side — there was no real downside either way.

But on the other side of things, ever since He Wen had entered the city, Shi Weiyang had already been confined to the house for several days.

Because of the brawl at the Five Lakes Inn, Shi Baofeng, furious, had scolded Shi Weiyang in front of everyone, and then, under the pretext of venting anger on the Fair King’s behalf, had him disciplined under military law — a solid twenty strokes of the rod. Officially it was said his backside had been beaten to a pulp and he couldn’t get out of bed; in reality, of course, it was just a minor injury, but he’d been confined to the house and forbidden from going out to cause any more trouble.

Since that day, the situation in Jiangning had shifted rapidly, with each side’s activity growing livelier by the day. Others going out and returning would talk excitedly about the excitement outside — the clashes at the arena, or various secret disputes brewing behind the scenes. But the second young master, who had once been at the center of all the excitement, now felt as though he’d been abandoned. Even when the occasional flatterer came by to praise his boldness and fearlessness, Shi Weiyang couldn’t shake the feeling that they were secretly mocking him.

After several days cooped up at home, by the seventh of September, he could no longer bear it.

Having chased off two women who couldn’t understand why he’d suddenly flown into a rage, Shi Weiyang, in the midst of his post-coital lethargy, felt the empty stillness of the surrounding courtyard and a wave of misery washed over him. He called for his personal attendant. “Everyone’s gone out, haven’t they… Is the fighting outside really that good to watch?”

This was, naturally, not an easy question to answer safely, but the attendant, having served him for a long time, hesitated slightly before saying, “Actually, Young Master Wu is still here. He hasn’t gone out these past few days, for some reason.”

“Oh?” Shi Weiyang frowned slightly. “Chennan… he usually has plenty of friends. Why hasn’t he gone out? Is he sick?”

“No, doesn’t seem to be. He looks perfectly fine.”

In an age of war and social breakdown, entertainment options for everyone had grown rather limited. Even for young men of privilege like the second-generation elites of the Fair Party’s upper ranks, the basic mode of having a good time was still mostly about calling up friends and going out looking for fun together — partly for the atmosphere, and partly because in this chaotic era, where the strong preyed on the weak, going out in a group meant having backup in case of trouble.

The Wu Chennan that Shi Weiyang mentioned was an old friend he’d known for years. As children they’d spent a great deal of time together, but over the past two years, as Shi Baofeng had risen from a mid-tier merchant to become the head of one of the world’s top factions through the Fair Party, Shi Weiyang’s own status had risen along with him, and with more and more flatterers surrounding him, he’d spent far less time with this Wu Chennan.

Learning now that Wu Chennan was still around, Shi Weiyang quickly had his attendant go invite him over.

After a while, a handsome, refined young man came in, a smile on his face and a distinctive scholarly air about him, quite different from the usual crowd who’d been hanging around Shi Weiyang lately.

“Weiyang.”

“Chennan.”

Wu Chennan cupped his hands in greeting, and Shi Weiyang trotted over, clasping his hands. “The city’s all abuzz — why haven’t you gone out to enjoy it, Chennan?”

“With you still confined to the house, brother, what fun would there be for me to go out alone and enjoy?”

“Chennan…”

Shi Weiyang was genuinely moved. Over these past months, as his status had risen and more and more friends gathered around him, he’d all but forgotten about this reserved old friend, and now he felt a deep pang of guilt.

“These past months, I really shouldn’t have… looking back, I barely saw you at all…”

“Ah, don’t say that. Lord Shi has high hopes for you — coming here to Jiangning, there’s plenty of important business for you to handle, dealing with all sorts of people, that’s all part of your development. You and I are as close as brothers — why speak like that?”

“Chennan.” Shi Weiyang gripped his hands, then sighed. “Ai, high hopes, what high hopes — my father’s utterly disappointed in me, that’s the truth. Look at me, I can’t even leave the house now…”

Wu Chennan smiled. “Actually… are you really unable to leave? Look, there’s no one guarding the door, people come and go freely — if the young master wants to do something, really, nothing’s stopping him, is it?”

The two of them walked hand in hand into the room and sat down on stools. Shi Weiyang sighed. “Ai, that’s only because my father’s been too busy lately and forgot to arrange it properly. But he said it in plain words — if I dare go out and cause trouble again, he’ll break my legs… I think, from now on, I’ve got no standing left in this family. Everything will go to my useless older brother instead…”

“That’s not right at all, young master,” Wu Chennan said with a smile. “The truth is, you haven’t quite grasped what Lord Shi really means. In any great family, who hasn’t gone through a few incidents? Going out to handle matters, who doesn’t run into some trouble now and then? Since ancient times, no great figure has ever been afraid of trouble — what they fear is being unable to turn trouble into something good. The past few times you’ve gone out, young master, you’ve admittedly been a bit reckless…”

With the midday sun streaming in through the door, Wu Chennan, with his scholarly bearing, suddenly seemed to Shi Weiyang to carry an air of commanding elegance. He blinked in surprise, and, moved, said, “Chennan, please, teach me.”

“May I ask, young master, what exactly happened the last time you went out?”

“Last time…” Shi Weiyang hesitated. “It was nothing more than… wanting to catch that Five-Foot Pervert, and then the people at that inn got in my way, and right then He Wen happened to be entering the city, and so… it blew up into a whole thing…”

“Then may I ask further, young master — why did the people at that inn get in your way?”

Shi Weiyang thought about it, then lowered his voice. “We later suspected… there was something off about the people at that inn, but by then things had already blown up too big, and we couldn’t force our way in. Later, I heard some vague word that it might have something to do with those lunatics from the Reading Society…”

“Then why didn’t you explain this clearly to Lord Shi?”

“Wasn’t I just saying, we couldn’t force our way in, we never got hold of any proof…”

Wu Chennan smiled and regarded him quietly. Shi Weiyang began to feel uncomfortable under his gaze. “This whole matter, ai… it was originally my own…”

“Young master,” Wu Chennan said slowly, “does evidence really matter?”

The room fell silent for a moment, and then Wu Chennan spoke again. “Evidence matters — and it doesn’t. What matters is that it exists — with evidence in hand, Lord Shi can give everyone an explanation. What doesn’t matter is whether it’s actually true. These days, with the Fair Party’s five factions standing side by side, whether people accept the evidence you present is a separate question entirely. On the table, what matters is volume and strength, never fairness. Young master, Lord Shi isn’t afraid of you causing trouble — what he’s afraid of is you causing trouble you can’t smooth over. Since you already know that inn has ties to the Reading Society, why not just manufacture some evidence? As long as the old master has something to save face with, he can go confront the Fair King with the evidence in hand — why would he need to come after you…”

As Wu Chennan finished speaking in his unhurried manner, Shi Weiyang’s eyes went wide, and he suddenly slapped his hand down on the back of Wu Chennan’s own. “I regret it… I regret it so much… if only I’d brought you along that day…”

Wu Chennan’s mouth twitched slightly. “Young master’s main flaw is… being too soft-hearted…”

Shi Weiyang stood up, put his hands on his hips, paced back and forth across the room several times, then sat back down in front of Wu Chennan and clasped his hands. “So now, now, what should I do about this… Chennan, don’t hold back, teach me.”

Wu Chennan looked at him. “What does the young master want to do?”

“I…” Shi Weiyang hesitated, then gestured around the room. “Look at the situation now — I’m confined to the house anyway, all those hangers-on have been warned off and don’t come around anymore. I know full well the people inside and outside this household probably see me, the second young master, losing my standing, and are all off currying favor with my older brother instead. I… well, since things already are what they are, how do I turn this around? Chennan, tell me, just tell me—”

“Actually, things aren’t as dire as all that. You, second young master, simply made some mistakes temporarily — you’re still Lord Shi’s own flesh and blood, after all, and even after some time passes, you’ll still end up being the one he trusts most…”

“But I want to fix this properly, I don’t want people thinking I’m this pathetic.” Shi Weiyang said.

Wu Chennan looked at him again. “…Power, as a thing, may seem intangible and elusive, but it’s not entirely without foundation. As you yourself said, right now everyone’s confidence in you, second young master, has dropped somewhat — that’s because you truly did stumble. People lost faith because of it, but if you want to win it back, it’s actually simple: just get back up right where you fell. Tell everyone that you’re a man who remembers. Stumble first, then make up for it — that’s what people will remember.”

“Make up for it…”

Shi Weiyang’s eyes went wide — he’d already grasped what was being suggested. Across from him, Wu Chennan wore a composed smile as he spoke evenly. “Go to that inn, arrest everyone who wronged you, get all the evidence in place — openly, with fanfare — and everyone will know: you, second young master, are not to be trifled with. That’s all there is to it.”

“…But it’s been so many days already — if everyone inside has already fled…”

“The monk may run, but can the temple run with him? And even if the monk has fled, what’s the harm in burning down the temple first and catching him at leisure afterward?”

In that moment, the commanding presence radiating from the seemingly frail scholar before him left Shi Weiyang stunned — it felt as though he were seeing this friend for the very first time, and he was overcome with emotion, grasping Wu Chennan’s hand.

“Chennan, you truly are my Zhang Liang!”

Wu Chennan clasped his hand in return. “Let’s plan this out carefully, then.”

And so they planned it out carefully.

That afternoon, Shi Weiyang mobilized his men and headed once more toward the Five Lakes Inn, determined to reclaim the face he’d lost.

The daylight dimmed somewhat.

A great fire was about to blaze up in that fading light.