The afternoon of September 8th, in Jiangning, between the hours of Wei and Shen.

The lingering autumn rains had stopped, and the afternoon sky had brightened somewhat. Through the ancient city, the Qinhuai River churned with foam as it flowed on.

Ever since the chaos of war had begun, the once-flourishing ancient city of Jiangning had gradually lost its former colors — the streets and alleys once strung with festive lanterns now appeared, at a glance, mostly gray and black. The destruction wrought by the fighting went uncleared, and the flood of refugees had thrown up shantytown after shantytown, which were then destroyed even more thoroughly in the ensuing brawls and slaughter. Ash, washed by the rain, had become the dominant color of this war-torn city.

But on this particular afternoon, once the rain had stopped, cart after cart rolled toward various important points throughout the ancient city, and basins of golden flowers were carried out from within — mostly chrysanthemums, with a few other varieties mixed in to fill things out — and set up to decorate and adorn the city. Even ornate lanterns and lavish silk ribbons were hung out on display.

A little to the north of the city, at a beautiful and elegantly rustic estate called “Yi Garden,” decorations both inside and out had begun going up in anticipation of He Wen’s arrival.

“Tomorrow is the Double Ninth Festival…”

That day, Fair King He Wen, dressed in blue robes, arrived together with the dark-skinned, rough-featured “Heaven King” Gao Chang. They greeted Xu Zhaonan, Shi Baofeng, and Zhou Shang, who had already arrived, and the five of them stood beneath the eaves for a while, watching the servants decorate the courtyard outside.

He Wen explained with a smile: “…Just setting a bit of a mood, celebrating a little.”

“What do you mean by ‘mood’?” Xu Zhaonan asked.

“It means atmosphere,” He Wen said, tilting his head toward the others. “Back in the southwest, the Black Banner Army actually lived quite a tight, frugal life — food and supplies were both scarce. But every festival and holiday, that fellow named Ning always insisted on getting everyone moving, celebrating a bit. He never carried much of an air of authority in front of people — he’d be the one running around leading the charge, having people set up torches, lighting up the whole mountainside at night, arranging singing and dancing. Back then, what he said most often was, ah, let’s set a bit of a mood, set a bit of a mood… quite an interesting fellow.”

“If torches lit up the whole mountainside without causing fires or getting out of control, that would count as a form of military training too, in its own way.”

“Something like that, though Master Ning later said something along the lines of — the harder the circumstances, the more you need to get people moving. The more stagnant things get, the more you need to stir up that stagnant water by force. Find life by facing death head-on.”

Having said this, He Wen paused for a moment, smiled, and waved a hand.

“…’Wild geese first take flight as autumn shadows fall over the river; with my guests I climb the emerald heights, wine jug in hand. In this mortal world, laughter comes rarely; let me stick chrysanthemums all through my hair on the way home. Let us simply drink ourselves senseless to mark this fine festival, no need to climb up high and resent the setting sun…’ Whatever else, it’s the Double Ninth Festival — we’ve held Jiangning for quite some time now, and it’s still fairly chaotic out there. With the tournament and the assembly both drawing such a crowd, let’s not let such a major festival pass unmarked. Let everyone properly enjoy it.”

“What’s this ‘resent the setting sun’ business? What’s that supposed to mean?” Gao Chang leaned toward Xu Zhaonan under the eaves and asked in a low voice.

“A poem by Du Mu,” Xu Zhaonan answered quietly.

Water droplets still trickled down from the dark blue tiles into the pond nearby. On the other side, the somewhat shorter Zhou Shang stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “Does Mister He particularly like that poem?”

“What does Lord Zhou think of it?”

“I prefer another one.”

“Oh?”

“‘When autumn comes on the eighth day of the ninth month, my flower blooms and all other flowers wither. Its fragrance floods Chang’an, rising to the heavens; the whole city is clad in armor of gold.'” Zhou Shang looked at He Wen. “What does Mister He think of that one? Today happens to be the eighth of September — mine suits the occasion rather better, don’t you think?”

“…Hahahaha.” He Wen blinked, startled, then burst out laughing. “Lord Zhou’s chosen poem is far too fierce. Aside from the date matching, what else about it fits the occasion? Look at the five of us brothers here, gathered for this assembly — things have gone rather well, and it looks like we won’t come to blows after all. And now Lord Zhou suddenly recites a poem like that — could it be you’re hoping your flower will bloom and wipe out the four of us all at once?”

“Haha…”

“Hahahaha…”

The others burst out laughing as well.

“Lord Zhou just likes putting on cultured airs — what does he even know about poetry?”

“Let’s get on with the meeting, the meeting.”

…

Ever since the Fair Party’s five Great Kings had gathered in Jiangning, starting from the first of September, the various delegates had held a full assembly on every odd-numbered day, and on every even-numbered day, the five of them would gather here at Yi Garden for a smaller, private meeting. By this day, it was already their fourth such gathering.

The full assembly outside was grand in scale and solemn in atmosphere, whereas these private gatherings among the five were considerably more relaxed and casual. The men would tease each other, occasionally crack jokes, or trade a few barbs, but over the preceding days, the mood had never grown too tense.

Among the five: “Fair King” He Wen, always in a long robe, one hand somewhat impaired, carried himself with scholarly elegance and composure; “Heaven King” Gao Chang, rough-featured and taciturn, whose narrowed eyes carried an intimidating weight, though once he spoke he was usually quite casual; “Wheel King” Xu Zhaonan, tall as a tower, a man of considerable learning from his background running a heterodox sect, often played the peacemaker; Shi Baofeng, fond of laughing, somewhat petty in manner, occasionally stirring up minor disagreements between others with a well-placed remark but generally keeping things within bounds; and Zhou Shang, usually stone-faced, fierce and combative in temperament — though the others often teased him in these gatherings, he never seemed to take offense, sometimes arguing his points rigidly with the others, often finding himself alone against all four, until the other four, growing bored, would drop the topic and stop engaging with him.

Since this was neutral ground, each of them had brought along a certain number of bodyguards. During the negotiations, most of the guards remained on the outer perimeter — some of them, at He Wen’s direction, had even been put to work arranging the flowers and lanterns — while only two personal advisors per person were allowed into the inner circle.

On this day, as the five men took their seats, the hall still carried its usual relatively amicable atmosphere. Various large and small issues and requests were raised amid laughter and joking; some were tentatively settled after brief discussion, while others, where a few of them still disagreed, were simply set aside for the time being after some arguing or good-natured mockery. The five Great Kings, with He Wen at their head, all appeared to treat these matters lightly and casually. But the advisors accompanying them — responsible for attending, recording, carrying, and managing documents — all stood by looking serious and quiet; though their faces showed no expression, their hearts were far from calm, because they all knew this was the single most important place deciding the fate of all of Jiangnan going forward, and what they were witnessing, behind this casual veneer, was the highest level of power struggle in the entire world.

The two advisors who’d accompanied Shi Baofeng knew that today, their employer intended to lay a trap for the Fair King — to dig him a serious hole.

This, of course, wasn’t anything unusual in itself.

From the very first private meeting onward, the five factions present had all been trying to make things difficult for one another. Each side would casually propose measures beneficial to themselves while cheerfully shooting down others’ proposals. Remarks laced with verbal traps, subtle attempts at sowing discord, and shifting alliances could crop up at any moment around this round table. But overall, the shared understanding at this point was that no major conflict was likely to erupt during this particular period.

The ten advisors present felt the tension keenly even as they sat in careful silence, ready at any moment to produce whatever prepared talking points or evidence might be needed.

At the quarter hour past Shen, after discussing some anecdotes about Tie Yan of Lin’an, the conversation turned to Nong Xian Zhao Jingci. He Wen took the opportunity to praise Zhao Jingci’s contributions at some length, and Xu Zhaonan remarked, “I hear Boss Shi’s side had some friction with Nong Xian’s people yesterday…”

Shi Baofeng waved a hand. “Just a small misunderstanding down below — hardly worth calling friction between me and Nong Xian… This was my unworthy son’s doing, and I was just about to report it to Mister He.”

“I did hear something happened last night,” He Wen said, thinking it over. “But since Lord Shi himself calls it a misunderstanding, I imagine the matter’s already been cleared up. I’ll leave this to Lord Shi’s judgment — I’m sure the misunderstanding will be easy enough to resolve. I trust Lord Shi.”

“Haha, misunderstandings are always simple enough to clear up — just the antics of a few petty troublemakers,” Shi Baofeng said with a smile, then turned somewhat more serious. “But this matter does touch on Mister He’s own good reputation, actually…”

“What does this have to do with Mister He’s reputation? Old Shi, don’t go smashing up someone’s establishment and then come here being cryptic about it,” Xu Zhaonan said, rapping the table with his hand. “That’s not decent.”

“Mister Xu misunderstands me.” Shi Baofeng cupped his hands. “Little Yu, bring it up.”

The trap had already been set within the hall. The advisor called Little Yu, a Confucian scholar in his thirties, brought forward the prepared bundle of documents, then quietly withdrew, watching the five men laugh and joke as they pulled the contents out, his heart churning with turmoil.

The documents presented were, of course, the coerced confessions extracted from those captured at the Five Lakes Inn, along with several bloodstained “Reading Society” pamphlets mixed in as evidence. Shi Baofeng gave a general account of the Reading Society’s wild accusations — the confessions claimed the Fair King himself was their backer, and that Nong Xian Zhao Jingci was one of the Reading Society’s chief generals. Naturally, none of the Great Kings believed such claims, but the sheer viciousness of the scheme was troubling in itself.

“There was a time when rumors circulated that the Reading Society was directed by yours truly…” Zhou Shang put in.

Xu Zhaonan laughed. “Some said it was me too…”

“So whose is it, really?”

“Let me state my position first — nothing to do with me.”

“These Reading Society people have vicious intentions. They mean to undermine our very foundations — this can’t be tolerated any longer…”

The men went back and forth, and Shi Baofeng said, “What does Mister He think?”

Across the round table, He Wen had already finished skimming through the confessions and now held one of the pamphlets in his hand, still slowly flipping through it.

“…Mister He is naturally the one being framed here.” The room fell quiet for only a moment before Xu Zhaonan spoke with a smile. “The villains’ purpose in doing this is quite obvious, after all.”

“Over these past two years, our Fair Party has produced no shortage of heroes, but also plenty of mixed company. There will always be those who can’t sit still and want to use the southwest’s name to make something of themselves. In my own territory alone, the Reading Society isn’t the only faction to have tried this.”

“Others too? Go ahead, Old Zhou.”

“What’s already been swallowed doesn’t bear mentioning.”

“Today, our Fair Party’s five factions are like branches of the same tree, brothers united under the Fair Code. By Mister He’s own reasoning, if it really came down to it, a sixth or seventh faction could join our alliance too, as long as they have the strength for it — take the ‘Great Dragonhead,’ for instance, they’re the sort of brothers we could sit down and share a meal with… But this Reading Society, they’re different from the others…”

“The Reading Society harbors wolfish ambitions — they don’t even recognize the Fair Code. These are people with treacherous intent, and if this isn’t resolved, it’ll cause no end of trouble down the road…”

“Mister He, what do you think?”

…

“…Mister He?”

…

Shi Baofeng reached his hand forward. Just before it touched the pamphlet in He Wen’s hand, he saw those eyes lift and turn toward him, and his hand froze in midair.

…

“Mister He, what do you… think?”

…

“Do you all think… there’s anything to what’s written in this little pamphlet?”

He Wen’s voice rang out through the hall.

The quarter-hour past Shen had already passed; outside, the deep-autumn light was fading toward dusk, and the servants outside were still busy setting up chrysanthemums and lanterns for the Double Ninth Festival. Inside the hall, silence fell for a moment. The five men’s gazes crossed one another. Shi Baofeng’s hand still hung in midair; behind him, not far off, his two advisors stood expressionless as ever, though the one called Little Yu could hear his own heartbeat — he knew perfectly well where these confessions and pamphlets had really come from. The Five Lakes Inn likely had no Reading Society members at all; the whole thing had been staged by the second young master, Shi Weiyang. Shi Baofeng’s aim was to forge a unified consensus within the Fair Party regarding the “Reading Society” — to bring some of the cards being held in the dark out into clearer view. The Reading Society was a hidden card that simply had to be seen clearly.

By rights, this shouldn’t have been a complicated matter at all.

But He Wen seemed intent on making it complicated.

The others studied He Wen, and He Wen met their gazes calmly and coolly in return. After a moment, Gao Chang, teacup in hand, set his cup down. Xu Zhaonan raised his right hand toward He Wen.

“Old He, that’s not what we’re discussing today.”

“Indeed, Mister He,” Shi Baofeng added, a smile spreading across his face. “Don’t play coy with us like this.”

“Then what are we discussing today?”

“We’re discussing exactly who’s really behind this Reading Society.”

“Let me state my position first — it’s got nothing to do with me, Old Shi.”

“Not much to do with my side either.”

“Mister He, the Reading Society poses a grave danger to the Fair Party. We can’t afford to be vague about this. State your position, so the rest of us know where we stand.”

“And what position would you have me state?”

“This ‘Reading Society’ claims you’re the one backing them. Just tell us plainly — is that true or not.”

The conversation went back and forth, with Xu Zhaonan and Shi Baofeng responding most quickly and forcefully, Gao Chang occasionally chiming in, while Zhou Shang sat frowning, watching He Wen. He Wen laughed.

“It seems you two, Old Shi and Old Xu, are absolutely determined to make me say something here — but how exactly am I supposed to say it?”

“Just say the word, that you have nothing to do with the Reading Society — isn’t that simple enough?”

“How could I have nothing to do with them?” He Wen looked at them. “This Reading Society — whoever they are, at the end of the day, they’re still members of the Fair Party. They have their own views. But even so, I am the Fair King.”

His gaze swept across the group. “Today we’ve gathered here in Jiangning precisely to discuss the affairs of every household under our banner. Even if this Reading Society is utterly wicked, shouldn’t we at least discuss what exactly they’ve done wrong? Take this Five Lakes Inn matter, for instance — that’s Zhao Jingci’s territory, so shouldn’t we look into whether they actually have any connection to Zhao Jingci? If they truly pose such a grave danger to the Fair Party, shouldn’t we discuss exactly where that danger lies? Look here — their views may be somewhat radical, but haven’t they laid it all out clearly enough in writing?”

He Wen tossed the pamphlet he’d been holding onto the center of the round table.

Gao Chang picked up his teacup, his expression giving nothing away of his thoughts. Xu Zhaonan seemed genuinely stunned by He Wen’s remarks, his mouth slightly open as he leaned back in his chair. Shi Baofeng’s tongue worked inside his mouth as he stared at He Wen, blinking uncertainly.

Across the table, Zhou Shang, who had been silent all this while, suddenly began to laugh.

“Hahahahahahaha… He Wen, you madman!”

“As to who’s really the madman here, the world will have its own judgment,” He Wen said calmly, then tapped a finger on the table. “Is there really nothing to what’s written in this thing at all? I trust you’ve all read through their arguments by now, more or less?”

“Whoever wrote this drew on a great deal from the Huaxia Army out west, and also compared it against countless precedents throughout history among men who’ve risen up the way we have,” He Wen said. “It argues that, throughout history, those who’ve accomplished great things haven’t succeeded because of slogans or rhetoric, but because of how thoroughly the people beneath them obeyed orders and followed discipline. What allowed the Huaxia Army in the southwest to succeed wasn’t Ning Yi’s talk of ‘Huaxia’ this or that, nor his empty promises about the ‘Four Peoples’ — the real key was that through various means, he made sure military discipline within his ranks was strictly enforced, and that his orders and policies were carried out to the letter.”

“Of course, achieving that level of discipline requires ideals and promises to support it — but at bottom, it comes down to rules. Old Gao, you command troops — however far down the chain your orders can actually reach, that’s exactly how effective your soldiers are in battle, isn’t it? Old Xu, you come from the Manichaean sect — your followers obey you, and that obedience is your power. But obedience comes in degrees too — how detailed are your own rules for those beneath you? Don’t your orders start to drift off course halfway down the chain? Is what they’re saying really so wrong?”

“Lord Shi, you’ve done a great deal of business — your shops have rule after rule. What happens when someone breaks one? Do you punish them? Why do you punish them? Even when it’s your own relatives who break the rules, I hear you rarely make exceptions — why is that? You know perfectly well why, don’t you?”

“…And you, Zhou the madman — your men have done nothing but destroy, never build anything! Aside from driving them forward to keep attacking, what else can you actually do? Without our support, could you even survive the winter? Is it really so wrong to discuss all this?”

He Wen, a man of scholarly background yet skilled in both letters and arms, had been a formidable debater back in the southwest, sweeping opponents aside with his eloquence. Now, faced with the outbursts from Shi Baofeng, Xu Zhaonan, and the others, he unexpectedly launched into an equally forceful, methodical rebuttal, and in the blink of an eye had overwhelmed the momentum of the others combined. But when it came to Zhou Shang, the short man across from him wore a cold sneer and didn’t back down in the slightest, sweeping his teacup off the table with a swing of his hand.

“Can’t survive the winter? What support? Whenever my men have taken cities and seized territory, hasn’t every one of you taken your cut of the spoils? Have I ever mooched off any of you? Talking about rules, talking about the southwest — Old He, I’ve read the southwest’s material too, and there’s one thing it makes perfectly clear: a timid, hesitant approach gets nothing done. Where does the concept of fairness even come from? It comes from Ning Yi’s talk of equality among all people — because everyone is equal, that’s exactly why fairness matters! If you don’t wipe out every last one of those who used to lord it over everyone else today, and instead insist on talking about rules, on taking things slowly, then how could the very idea of fairness ever take root in anyone’s heart!”

“Rules mean orders that get carried out — not you setting some direction, shouting a slogan, and having everyone rush in like a mob. It’s not your kind of approach, all destruction and no construction.”

“My destruction with no construction is simply because the time for construction hasn’t come yet! He Wen, what you’ve built is the Fair Party — and if that’s the case, the single most important thing has to be the word ‘fair’ itself! But you haven’t wiped out all those who used to lord it over everyone in the past — your own men are following you to conquer the world precisely because they too want to become that kind of person who lords it over others! You, Fair King, when you entered the city, people knelt by the roadside and kowtowed to you — what fairness can you possibly talk about!” Zhou Shang gestured broadly to the side, opening his arms wide. “You’re all exactly the same!”

“Enough arguing.” Xu Zhaonan waved a hand. “That’s not what we’re discussing today.”

Shi Baofeng said, “Old Xu makes a good point.”

He Wen stared at Zhou Shang. “But what is fairness for? It’s so that the people around us can live better lives, live more like human beings. But can fairness be achieved overnight? You’d have every wealthy person in the world killed, forcing everyone to start from a state of equality before beginning to build anything — do you understand that in doing so, you wouldn’t just be killing the wealthy, but that more than half the poor people under your own command would end up dead too, starved to death, driven mad with hunger? Equality can come through education, through law, through a hundred or two hundred years of patient effort — it shouldn’t come through a slaughter that leaves nothing standing on either side!”

“Haha, education, law — that all sounds very nice, but I’m afraid before your education even has a chance to take effect, your own gentry underlings will already have multiplied into four generations under one roof!”

“Each generation can only walk the path available to it in its own time. What good does it do to kill everyone off?”

“At least they’ll truly understand what equality means! Once they see the old lords no longer kneeling before them, then naturally, I won’t need to kill anymore!”

“I’m afraid that by then, you won’t be able to stop yourselves.”

“Whether we can stop or not, we’ll only know once we’ve done it! To accomplish something that hasn’t been done in a thousand years, how can you hem and haw, looking forward and back in fear? And you still talk about the southwest — do you even understand why Ning Yi killed the Emperor?”

The two men launched into a fierce debate, their words growing sharper, until Shi Baofeng slammed his palm down on the table. “Enough. Old He, don’t play dumb with us here. The reason we’re calling the Reading Society vicious today isn’t about what they said — it’s about the fact that they’re wearing the borrowed skin of southwest orthodoxy! If this group keeps growing in influence and we let it keep going, will you even still be Fair King much longer? Or — is this thing really your own doing after all, Mister He?”

He Wen pushed the documents back across the table. “Whether it is or isn’t — don’t you already know in your heart, Lord Shi?”

“What I’m discussing isn’t the Five Lakes Inn matter.”

“I thought we were discussing the Five Lakes Inn matter.”

“Heh heh heh, madman. Fair King, you’re the biggest madman of all here,” Zhou Shang said with a laugh. “I say it’s you — you’re the one who set up the Reading Society. You want to cut the rest of us four off and go it alone, don’t you?”

“I never said that.”

“Then state your position.”

“I’m the Fair King. Whoever within our ranks has thoughts about the Fair Party — as long as it’s an internal matter — I believe it’s worth discussing, worth hearing out. Isn’t that exactly why we’re holding this assembly, to discuss the road ahead?”

“Sounds like Mister He rather agrees with what’s written up there — maybe we should just rename ourselves the ‘Rules Party’ instead.”

“Why wouldn’t I agree with it, if it’s worth agreeing with? And you’re free to voice your own agreement too, if you have any. I think a lot of the concerns raised in there have real merit — I raised this myself on the very first day of the assembly, asking why so many peasant uprisings throughout history have come to nothing, and whether we might be repeating that same mistake. There’s a lot in there worth discussing…”

“This isn’t a matter of whether to discuss it or not…”

“This is exactly a matter of whether to discuss it or not. If we can’t get these things sorted out clearly, the Fair Party won’t last long.”

“Don’t play dumb with us…”

“We can discuss it plainly, then. I’m the Fair King — if you want me to say the Fair Party’s people have nothing to do with me, that simply won’t fly…”

“I, Zhou Shang, am the true Fair King — you, Old He, are nothing but the King of Rules.”

“Old He, did you really set up the Reading Society? Are you targeting the four of us?”

“I never said that — but what they’ve written does have some merit to it. Can’t we consider bringing them in from the cold? Can’t we broaden our perspective a little…”

“So it’s not your doing, then.”

“I can’t say that either…”

“Damn it…”

The argument buzzed on and on, voices rising and falling, at times heated, at times grave. At some point people rose to their feet, someone slammed the table, and by then evening had arrived — the pale white light that had followed the rain gradually withdrew back into the clouds, and lanterns began going up around the estate, flickering to life one by one. The guards beneath the pavilion eaves exchanged uneasy glances, each trying to gauge just how serious the situation had become through their own means.

The advisors, including Little Yu, stood tensely to one side, watching the argument unfold. In the past, the five factions of the Fair Party had each gone their own way, and none of the other four had had much personal contact with He Wen himself. This time, having entered the city, he’d organized meetings and listened to everyone’s opinions, mostly presenting himself as amiable and even-tempered — until this very moment, when everyone finally witnessed, for the first time, his capacity to stand his ground against the others, utterly inscrutable…

…

As evening drew near, a disturbance had just broken out at “Wenshui Tavern” within the city, and a physician who’d been summoned was hurrying into the tavern’s main hall.

That afternoon, the tavern had been hosting one of the “small gatherings of heroes” that had become common in Jiangning of late, bringing together various figures from the martial world. Naturally, since most of those gathered were rough men of the martial world who lived by the blade, while things were generally friendly and harmonious, small mishaps did occasionally occur.

Yan Tie, the Yan family’s Second Elder, known in the martial world by the somewhat respectable name “Wind-Chasing Sword,” having come from the Yan Family Stronghold in the west, had gotten into an argument with a swordsman at this gathering over some strange pretext. The two had gone to blows, and the swordsman resorted to underhanded tactics, first wounding Yan Tie with a hidden weapon before cutting him down in a pool of blood.

In sparring matches among martial-world figures at this time, unless it was a genuine life-or-death duel, using hidden weapons was generally considered off-limits — especially at such a solemn “gathering of heroes,” where everyone would consider it shameful conduct. Seeing the man win by such despicable means, several other martial artists present tried to stop him from leaving, but he unleashed a series of vicious moves, wounding several more before escaping through the tavern window. By this point, some well-informed individuals had already learned his identity.

The man turned out to be a captain of the “Undying Guard” under “Wheel King” Xu Zhaonan, known in the martial world as “Sword Madman” Yang Hanzhou. No one knew what had possessed him to resort to such underhanded tactics at such a gathering, let alone wound people and flee afterward.

In present-day Jiangning, bloodshed and injuries were common enough — brawls involving thousands had erupted several times in August alone, and plenty of people had died without anyone ever bothering to investigate. But such everyday chaos didn’t mean every incident in the martial world could simply be swept under the rug without consequence. In this case, Second Elder Yan had come representing the Yan Family Stronghold and was an honored guest of Shi Baofeng’s, while this Yang Hanzhou carried the backing of “Wheel King” behind him — so as the physician arrived to sort out the aftermath, the martial-world figures in the tavern buzzed with whispers, some excited, some anxious.

No one could say what kind of conflict might now erupt between “Equality King” and “Wheel King” over this — it wouldn’t be easily settled, and there’d surely be quite a show to watch going forward…

…

Now that the attacker’s identity had been confirmed, with his connection to the “Undying Guard” established, those gathered at Wenshui Tavern didn’t rush to demand justice in a panic — after all, Yan Tie had Shi Baofeng’s backing, and the “Undying Guard” wasn’t something just anyone could touch either.

As the disturbance at the tavern gradually died down, the scarred, longsword-carrying attacker, Yang Hanzhou, had already changed into an inconspicuous set of clothes, with a pack of gold and silver strapped to his back, and was making his way toward Jiangning’s east gate. Having exited the city as quickly as possible, he met, in a small grove just outside, Jin Yongsheng, who had arrived by carriage to confirm his departure from the city.

“The silver we agreed on… here’s the promissory note from my Baofeng Trading Company. It’s all here.” Jin Yongsheng handed him a small bundle.

Yang Hanzhou tore open the bundle to count it, his expression darkening. “What was all that for? It wasn’t easy landing a lucrative post within the Undying Guard — I spent no small amount greasing palms up and down the ranks to get there.”

“What, not enough for you? Got something to say about it?”

“Wouldn’t dare… it’s just strange to me. This Second Elder Yan isn’t even that important a figure — why did it have to be me who staged this whole thing… Here I was, thinking I might get to do something significant working with you, Old Jin.”

A cold, faint smile crept across his scarred face.

Jin Yongsheng, without looking at him, gazed off into the distance and said slowly, “If you feel it wasn’t enough, just say so — take the silver and go enjoy yourself somewhere for a while. Come to Yangzhou in a couple of months and wait there — I’ll consider arranging something else for you. You’ve got the skill to fight and kill when needed. Don’t worry, you won’t come out on the losing end with me.”

“Then…”

“Don’t ask about things you shouldn’t be curious about. Knowing wouldn’t be safe for you.”

“Understood.”

With things put this plainly, though Yang Hanzhou remained curious, he naturally didn’t dare press further. Just then, he noticed Jin Yongsheng frowning slightly up ahead, murmuring under his breath: “That’s the second batch already…”

Yang Hanzhou turned to look and saw, not far off, the main road leading out of Jiangning. Night was falling, and few travelers moved in or out of the city at this hour — but three horses were galloping east at tremendous speed, their riders bent low over the saddles.

“That’s…” Yang Hanzhou frowned. “Yuan Zhan?”

“You know him?” Jin Yongsheng asked.

“One of ‘Wheel King’s’ trusted men — he usually handles… communications for major operations. If he’s on the move, that means troops are being mobilized somewhere. This is…”

“Second batch. When he came out, he ran into a few of Zhou Shang’s men… in a great hurry, no telling what they’re up to.”

Yang Hanzhou turned his gaze toward Jin Yongsheng, and in the dim light of the grove, he found the other man’s calm eyes already fixed on him in return.

What exactly have I gotten myself mixed up in? Does this have something to do with me? Unease stirred within him, and whatever curiosity had briefly flickered dissipated at once. He cupped his hands. “In that case, I’ll be on my way. Take care, Old Jin.”

“Take care. See you in Yangzhou.”

“See you in Yangzhou.”

Carrying his two bundles, Yang Hanzhou turned and left. Looking back one last time, he saw the gray, hazy silhouette of Jiangning in the distance, about to be swallowed by the darkening sky — the evening air seemed to have taken on a chill, forbidding edge. He had no idea what was about to happen, and he had no wish to find out either. Right now, all he wanted was to get as far away from this place, which seemed poised for disaster, as quickly as possible.

After Yang Hanzhou left, Jin Yongsheng climbed into his carriage, brow furrowed. Years of experience in the martial world had honed his instincts, and they were quietly sounding an alarm now — from the two groups of riders he’d just witnessed, he’d caught a faint, ominous scent.

This ominous feeling didn’t come from Yang Hanzhou just now, nor from the second young master, who’d arranged the incident at Wenshui Tavern — that was merely a minor matter. He couldn’t yet guess what exactly had gone wrong.

“Back to Zhong’an Ward, quickly.”

He gave the order.

Not long after, the old chief manager returned to the city just as night was falling and the lanterns were being lit. Beneath the city’s calm surface, the largest undercurrent since the Jiangning assembly had begun was now churning, silent and violent…