The second year of the Wuzhenxing era, the twenty-first of the ninth month — the day that would decide the future of Jiangnan.

After He Wen, Zhou Shang, and the others left the venue, endless arguments continued.

But none of it mattered anymore.

Nearly the end of the hour of Shen, close to evening, the city’s martial arts tournament semifinals had already concluded; as planned, the final four had been determined. In the Fairness Party conference venue, some had knocked over tables and chairs in their arguing, others were burning papers in a bonfire — another column of smoke now rose above the ashen city.

In the courtyard where they’d waited for the conference earlier, Meng Zhutao walked into the hall and saw Chen Juefang, Gao Huiyun, Tan Zheng, Xu Longbiao and the others already seated there.

“The Fairness King’s gone mad.”

Chen Juefang spread his hands and delivered this verdict.

Meng Zhutao pulled out a seat and sat down. Out in the courtyard, some were talking loudly, others staying silent.

Someone said, “He won’t negotiate. Get ready for war.”

Few had expected that the Fairness King would truly refuse to negotiate.

Whatever charter the so-called five-faction alliance ultimately worked out, what mattered was that everyone agreed to it before taking action; as long as there was willingness to talk, there was hope for unity.

He Wen had thrown out an entire reform package, laying out countless provisions that looked strict but were, in practice, all up for discussion — yet before any of that discussion could even begin, he demanded that the other four factions immediately halt their actions against the study society.

On this one matter alone, he insisted on pushing it through by direct order.

The other four factions were currently cracking down hard on the study society. At this critical juncture, if the Fairness King’s word alone could settle it, that would slap the other four factions in the face all at once, building up enormous authority for He Wen — and it would also lend support and license to the study society’s power grab under the guise of Southwest influence.

More importantly — if they compromised once, and he kept acting this forcefully every time after, would they even be able to compromise again?

Zhou Shang had flipped the table.

…

“…You’ve completely lost your mind.”

At the rear side of the main venue, in a study near a pond, the atmosphere gradually grew quiet. After the uproar in the main hall, He Wen, Gao Chang, Xu Zhaonan, Shi Baofeng, and Zhou Shang had all, without prior arrangement, gathered here.

This felt more like a private, final meeting… or perhaps a final attempt at persuasion.

“It’s this age that’s gone mad.”

Amid Zhou Shang’s accusation, He Wen, standing by the window, tapped the window lattice and spoke quietly, gazing at the scenery outside.

“Was this the plan from the very start?”

“What?”

“Was this the plan from the very beginning of this conference? You wanted to be the one calling all the shots?”

“…Everyone knows the Fairness Party’s problems. If we can’t solve them, we’re all dead anyway. Either we all die together, or… you die.” He Wen’s gaze was cold. “Is there really much to choose?”

“I don’t see that big a problem.”

“Someone stronger than you is the problem, if you’re too weak.”

“…Who’s weak?”

“We’re weak.” He Wen spread his hands. “The whole of Jiangnan — tens of millions of people, all flying the banner of fairness over their heads — in reality just a mob of thugs. Tell them to burn, kill, and plunder, and they’ll shout ‘fairness’ and swarm in without a second thought. Tell them to go farm the land, and will they? Tell them not to kill indiscriminately, will they listen? Orders aren’t carried out, prohibitions aren’t enforced — the most you can do is strut around in front of trash like Wu Qimei and Liu Guangshi. Let the Jurchens come again, and they’ll dig up your ancestors’ graves and slaughter your whole family just the same.”

Xu Zhaonan’s eye twitched. “Even knowing all this… we still can’t talk about it?”

“How many times have we talked, and did any of you listen?” He Wen gave a faint smile. “Under the current way of negotiating, each side sends a few dozen people, forms some kind of council, the five of us make up a governing body, and we slowly wrangle with each other, planting sand in each other’s gears, tripping each other up — I want to handle something, you come put in a good word for someone; you want to deal with someone, I come block you… What kind of useless thing could that possibly produce together? Orders carried out, prohibitions enforced — that’s the one requirement. If we can manage that, then we can talk. Can you manage it? Tell you not to kill indiscriminately, and you turn on me over it anyway?”

“Very nicely put.” Shi Baofeng poured tea off to the side. “Then tell me, Fairness King, why should everyone listen to you, and not to me, Shi Baofeng? If the four of you listened to me, couldn’t I ensure orders were carried out and prohibitions enforced too?”

Zhou Shang pointed at Shi Baofeng.

He Wen shook his head. “It’s not about who to listen to — it’s about listening to what’s right. Whoever can solve the problem, that’s who we listen to. As for these problems facing the Fairness Party, the Southwest has answers — why not listen to them? What you all care about is the power in your hands, about who gets listened to. Even if it could solve the problem, as long as it’s not you being listened to, you won’t agree. Every single one of you is the same.” He sat back down in his seat. “Fine. I don’t need any of you. I’ll do it myself.”

“I’m not like that.” Zhou Shang said frankly. “My path is the right one. Forgive my bluntness, but the rest of you are all fools.”

He Wen didn’t bother responding, and none of the others spoke up either. Shi Baofeng finished pouring the tea and looked at his cup with a faint smile.

“Whatever happens, we’re still heroes and men of honor who once banded together for a cause. He Wen, if we can’t come to terms today, we’ll be fighting the moment we step out that door, and the whole world will be laughing at us. Honestly, that saddens me.”

“What kind of heroes are we?” He Wen laughed. “Men like Ning Yi — that’s a hero. Men like Qin Siyuan, Li Gang, Zong Ze — those are heroes. Wanyan Aguda, Wanyan Zonghan — those are heroes. We’re nothing but a bunch of thugs and bandits who rose up because the times allowed it, never putting down real roots. Sooner or later we’ll scatter and vanish without a trace.”

“…That’s how it’s always gone, dynasty after dynasty.”

“Ning Yi took a new road.”

“Can it even be walked? He himself probably doesn’t have the nerve to say so.”

“Taking the old road doesn’t mean rushing in all at once like this.”

“The old road allows for discussion… He Wen, you’ve turned everyone against you.”

“…You see? Who can out-argue whom here?”

The scent of tea drifted through the room; the men at the table looked at one another, their words growing weary, though they all found themselves laughing a little. He Wen cupped the small cup of hot tea in his hands.

“I mean it seriously — can’t we set some of this aside?” he said. “The Southwest has already promised to support me in reforming the Fairness Party. Ning Yi is the real madman — he’s eager to see us carry out this kind of reform. You’ve all seen how he’s dealt with Old Ox Head, with Jin Province, with the Southeast, even with Dai Mengwei… Set down the power in your hands. Stop running this loose, scattered mess. We’ve already brought Jiangnan enough ruin — can’t we do something real for once?”

He paused. “Nod, and I’ll bring men from the Huaxia Army to meet you.”

Gao Chang tilted his head. “If you’re so sincere, why not bring them to meet us first?”

He Wen said, “To do something difficult, you need the resolve to take a desperate gamble.”

Xu Zhaonan said, “We set down our power, come under you, and then we’re at your mercy. If you were me, what would you do?”

He Wen looked at him. “That’s why I don’t want to keep talking in circles… But, Lord Xu, let’s just say we make a pact for the future. If one day you suddenly feel like doing some good — will you consider it?”

“Can’t I do that on my own?” Xu Zhaonan smiled.

Shi Baofeng downed the tea in his cup in one gulp. “My son lost an arm. He Wen, I originally thought… that pressing you to take a stand on the study society matter was for the good of the Fairness Party… My son. He lost an arm.”

“Your son is worthless.” He Wen looked at him. “Shi Baofeng, watch my lips, listen closely. Your son is worthless. If you want to fight, fight however you like — but your son is worthless, and that’s got nothing to do with me.”

Shi Baofeng suddenly hurled the teacup in his hand. He Wen swept out a hand, and the cup flew off to the side of the room, shattering to pieces.

Beside them, Zhou Shang pinched his own teacup between two fingers, studied it for a moment, then looked up toward Shi Baofeng.

“Your son,” he said, word by word, “is worthless.” He turned his head, opened his mouth, and for a moment said nothing. After a while, everyone heard him say:

“…This world has rotted through.”

Zhou Shang stood up, turned, and walked out. The other four sat there without moving. On the round table, aside from the cup Shi Baofeng had drained himself, the remaining four cups of tea sat untouched, wisps of steam rising faintly, mingling with the pale light that streamed in as the door opened.

A distant, tidal hum surged in from far away as footsteps carried out through the door.

…War was coming.

…

Late autumn, evening. The pale light of day was gradually fading, surrendering its rule of the world to the encroaching darkness.

Along the street near the conference venue, Ning Ji stood among the crowd, listening to gossip about the martial arts tournament, when he suddenly sensed something unusual in the air.

The conference had ended, and carriages had begun leaving the long street one by one, along with a great many guards and hidden sentries belonging to various factions. For some reason, this particular dispersal carried an especially unusual air.

At the teahouses and taverns along the street, some who had connections with the conference attendees rushed to inquire about the news, and soon a stirring unease began surging through the pale evening light.

“Something’s happened…”

“He Wen and…”

“They’ve broken it off—”

“This is going to blow up big…”

Whispers passed back and forth, hushed murmurs everywhere, and large numbers of pedestrians began hurrying off in different directions, like the first wave of a retreating tide. Ning Ji caught a few words, then tried to find higher ground to check which direction Shi Baofeng’s procession had taken.

There were several streets leading away from the venue, and each of the kings always tried to take a different route.

But getting to higher ground proved tricky — at this hour, sentries and guards from every faction had already stationed men on rooftops to patrol, and some of their sharpshooters, even if they couldn’t beat him in a fight, still had the advantage of a clear line of sight. He circled around for a while, weighing his options.

After a moment, in the darkness in the distance, the sounds of fighting rose up. Ning Ji listened for a while, then saw flames rising into the sky, along with people signaling a warning far off.

“The Equality King’s been attacked—”

There were fellow travelers on this path too?

Ning Ji blinked in mild surprise, then headed toward the source of the commotion. If the assassination attempt had failed halfway through, he wouldn’t mind joining in partway and getting in on something big.

But the fierce assassination attempt lasted only a moment. By the time Ning Ji had run halfway there, he could already tell that things on the Equality King’s side had steadied considerably. Guards and experts under the Equality King soon appeared up and down the surrounding streets, their expressions no longer urgent — they seemed to already have a handle on the situation.

Unable to reach any higher ground, Ning Ji moved along hidden corners against the flow of the chaotic crowd, and by the time he reached the corner of the street ahead, the commotion had already died down. Through gaps between the soldiers guarding the street, he saw the long street ahead soaked in blood, five or six figures restrained and kneeling on the ground. Shi Baofeng’s figure moved among them, hacking them down with his blade one by one.

“Kill me—”

“You think the likes of you can kill me—”

“He Wen! Why didn’t you come yourself—”

His internal energy surging, Shi Baofeng roared out in the last rays of the autumn dusk, darkness sweeping across the long street, engulfing him. It was only then that Ning Ji realized Shit Baby’s martial skill wasn’t half bad.

He gritted his teeth and turned to leave.

The other side was prepared now; there was no chance for assassination here.

But what exactly had happened at today’s conference?

Once he’d walked some distance away, he had a moment to reflect on what had happened earlier. The friction among the Fairness Party’s five fools had been rumored around the city for days now — just a few days ago it was said they’d already fallen out. So what happened today? Fallen out again?

Night had already fallen. Pedestrians in the street varied — some hurrying in a rush, some skulking about furtively. Piles of garbage along the roadside gave off a foul stench, and in the dim alleys nearby, the smell of decaying corpses lingered. The city seemed to be sinking into its final throes, on the brink of no return.

Having lost his chance to assassinate anyone, Ning Ji felt somewhat at a loss. What should he do next? Go find some medicine? The nearby clinics had long since run dry… He passed through half the city amid the faint din, and strangely, no one came looking for trouble with him, so he had no excuse to pick a fight and vent his frustration on anyone. Eventually, he made his way back to the road near Wuhu Inn, heading toward that familiar low bridge.

Beneath the bridge, a faint orange flame flickered. The little monk wasn’t sitting by the fire — he stood on the riverbank outside the bridge, his gaze fixed strangely on the space beneath it, watching the area around the bridge as well. His eyes met Ning Ji’s for a moment; there was a faint sorrow in his gaze, but he said nothing.

Ning Ji crossed the low bridge, and looking out from atop it into the distance, the outline of the ancient city amid the darkness seemed, somehow, to look a little more beautiful — the flames burning here and there like orange lanterns hanging above its silhouette. He climbed down from the embankment. Under the bridge, Xue Jin was holding the woman’s body, a faint sound of weeping escaping him. Ning Ji went over, crouched down, and reached out to touch the side of her neck.

Only a trace of warmth remained in the body.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah…”

Xue Jin opened his mouth, missing most of its teeth, weeping weakly and in deep grief.

Ning Ji looked at him.

“She’s gone…”

He tried to say the words as calmly as he could.

But for some reason, he couldn’t manage it.

…

In the night, fireworks rose into the sky…

Those were the warning flares various factions used to signal alarm, and lately they’d been rising more and more often.

For some reason, Ning Ji found himself thinking back to the first time he’d seen this couple.

It had been the night of the fifteenth of the eighth month. Xue Jin had brought back some scraps of food he’d begged for, and the two of them had leaned weakly against each other on the embankment, facing the dark night, waiting for the fireworks to rise again.

“They’ll… set them off again…”

In that moment, facing a sheet of blackness, they had waited like that, full of longing…