Having gathered information from several bandit scouts about how various gangs were distributed along the Xianxia Road, and having carefully studied a map of the surrounding area back at the checkpoint, Ning Ji found their progress, though avoiding the main roads, largely unobstructed. In fact, at several points where bandit gangs had set up checkpoints, the two of them simply slipped past through difficult mountain terrain, occasionally catching sight of the bandit strongholds themselves from a distance, even spotting a few lookout scouts along the way. Sometimes Qu Longjun would tag along to spy on them from hiding; other times Ning Ji would go over and knock them out himself, occasionally picking up a bit of loose change the bandits happened to be carrying.

Their progress was slow this way, but it could also be called carefree. Qu Longjun, though delicate in the past, had already spent a full year toughening up since leaving the southwest. Now, under the careful tutelage of a survival expert like Ning Ji in the mountains, walking and climbing every day, her movements and bearing had grown noticeably more agile and capable, taking on a certain healthy beauty as well.

From Xianxia Pass to the large mountain city of Jian’ou, the mountain road stretched roughly three hundred li, but the two of them were in no hurry, traveling and sightseeing along the way. By the twenty-third of the third month, they finally drew near Pucheng, roughly the halfway point. That day, they weren’t in a rush to reach the county town, and again made camp and lit a fire in the mountains that night, with Ning Ji happily plotting how the next day, once in town, he’d sell off some more of the “treasures” they’d “collected” along the way.

Past midnight that night, faint sounds began drifting through the mountains.

Ning Ji had, after all, trained in scouting techniques from the army—sleeping at night with his weapon tucked beneath his head, always ready for battle at a moment’s notice. So when the faint sound of movement on the ground reached him, he was already awake. After listening for a while, he got up and reached over to shake Qu Longjun, still fast asleep, awake as well.

Slinging his steel blade across his back, he lifted the tent flap and stepped outside. In the darkness, faint, scattered sounds were drawing closer, and soon two figures burst out from the trees ahead, supporting each other as they ran.

Under the bright starlight, one of the two figures appeared to already be wounded, weapon in hand, apparently fleeing for their lives. Suddenly spotting the tent and figures on the grassy slope ahead, both of them startled. Ning Ji, with twin blades strapped across his back, stood there like a mountain—still and unshakable—his calm gaze giving off an unmistakable air of someone not to be trifled with. The two sides regarded each other for a moment; behind the fleeing pair, shouts were growing louder. Ning Ji raised a hand slightly, gesturing off to one side of the mountain, signaling that he had no intention of getting involved, and letting them pass.

The two figures skirted around the tent and fled off to one side.

Once the two shapes had vanished from sight, Ning Ji returned to the tent. Qu Longjun had already sat up, sword in hand. “What happened?”

“Strange. Judging by their clothes, they looked like government officers—being chased and hunted down in the middle of the night… what are Fujian’s soldiers even doing?”

“Could they be bad people?”

“Who knows… but the ones chasing after them looked more like a disorganized rabble…” He trailed off, holding up a finger. “Shh. Here they come.”

Even as he spoke, more figures burst out from the trees. One voice called out: “Fourth Brother, there’s someone here!”

“Huh, and a horse too.”

“Search around! Search around—”

“Come out—”

Excited, seemingly bloodthirsty shouts rang out. Under the moonlight, several figures were already swiftly closing in around the tent. As they drew close, Ning Ji threw open the flap and stepped out. “It’s the middle of the night—what’s all this racket about!”

Seeing someone step boldly out of the tent, and speaking none too politely, the middle-aged man leading the group, a long saber in hand, slowed his steps slightly. Noticing the long blades strapped to the figure’s back, he cupped his hands together and called out loudly, “Hail to the mighty Bodhidharma!”

This man was tall and rough-featured, with fresh blood already staining his saber—he had every appearance of a hardened figure from the martial underworld who lived and killed for a living. Even as he called out this password, he didn’t slow his pace, sizing up Ning Ji and the surroundings as he walked straight up. “Executing yellow dogs in the dead of night—turning the tables on the Dragon King’s own temple—are you brothers from the Li Kou faction? Give us your sign!”

As he spoke, his other hand was already waving his companions to search the surroundings—some scanning around, some kicking through the grass and brush, and one heading straight for the red-flower horse. Qu Longjun, having stepped out from behind the tent flap by now, murmured, “He wants us to exchange passwords…” She had learned a few of these underworld code phrases while training in the White Rakshasa arts, and was about to respond.

But Ning Ji had already planted a kick square in the chest of the middle-aged man swaggering toward him like some underworld boss, sending him flying backward with a resounding thud.

In the darkness, the figure that had just been advancing suddenly reversed direction, kicked several zhang through the air, then tumbled across the ground in a heap, kicking up a cloud of grass and dirt.

Everyone froze for a moment. Ning Ji surged forward, an overwhelming pressure sweeping ahead of him. One of the henchmen beside the middle-aged man barely caught a glimpse of Ning Ji’s advancing form before a backhanded fist crashed into his face, sending him crashing backward. Further along, another henchman, just reaching out to grab the horse’s reins, widened his eyes and raised his blade, but the shadow closing in through the darkness reached down, snatched up a length of wood from the ground, and swung it down on him with a series of heavy blows—wood splinters flying in the darkness with each resounding crack—knocking the blade from his hands, bending his arm, and finally sending him tumbling across the ground in a heap before being kicked once more for good measure.

Two more men charged in from the side—one was sent sprawling with a single backhanded punch, while the other, catching a single glance from Ning Ji, backed away in a panic, blade still in hand.

Under the starlight, this whole confrontation lasted only a matter of moments, but the sheer force behind that advancing figure’s every punch and kick was utterly terrifying. He turned back and walked toward the middle-aged man from the martial world who had first called out the grandiose password, now trying to crawl up off the ground. The man looked up—only to be sent flying once more by another brutal kick.

“I told you! Waking me up in the middle of the night, and you dare give me your little password too! Reciting poetry, even! Where are your manners? Do you know who you are and who I am? Damn it all, there’s a road to heaven and you won’t take it, and here you go studying the boundless sea of learning through hard toil! Reciting poetry, of all the—”

Cursing all the while, he turned and walked back to the man who’d earlier backed away with his blade, slapping him across the face as well, before turning to head back. This man, too, was clearly a desperado of the martial world; his eyes flickered with fear and defiance, teeth gritted, yet he didn’t dare strike back. After a moment, he finally forced out through clenched teeth: “A… a gentleman may be killed, but not humiliated—” Before he could even finish, Ning Ji turned and drove a fist into him, sending him crashing to the ground, then proceeded to kick him again and again with great force.

On the grassy slope in the darkness, the man curled and writhed on the ground before finally drawing himself into a tight ball, the sound of the kicks landing again and again echoing through the night wind.

The beating continued for a while longer, until two more pursuers emerged from the trees, at which point Ning Ji finally stopped. His twin blades still sheathed on his back, all five men who had first come chasing after their quarry were now injured. He then sat down grandly on a rock, resting his hands on his knees.

“Still dare to search my belongings, grab my horse… is it yours to just reach out and take? All right, talk. Who are you people? What do you do? What have you done? Answer well and you can walk away—answer badly, and I’ll bury you right here… a bunch of ill-mannered bastards!”

There were seven men gathered outside the woods by now—two hadn’t been struck, while the rest bore injuries ranging from light to severe. The middle-aged man who had first swaggered up with his aggressive greeting was now standing again, supported by a companion. He looked around, uncertain what expression to wear, but finally gritted his teeth, clasped his hands together, and spoke with sudden mildness.

“I… we are righteous men who’ve banded together of our own accord… I am Meng Biao, called Push-Mountain Blade, of Five Oxen Stronghold. Tonight… tonight my brothers and I came here to execute yellow dogs. We had no wish to offend, offend you, senior, but… I, I already observed the proper etiquette, gave the proper greeting, senior… brother, this, this seems rather excessive…”

Meng Biao looked at the man sitting grandly before him—clearly a formidable fighter with an evidently short temper—and found himself struggling for the right words. That “rather excessive” was already the utmost expression of grievance and injustice he could manage. The man across from him stared at him, then opened his mouth to reveal a set of cold, gleaming teeth.

“Observed proper etiquette? Gave the proper greeting? Counting on your numbers, you came walking right up to me talking, and had your brother here go and grab my horse—you call that proper etiquette? Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to close in on someone like that before finishing your greeting? That’s a good way to end up dead! Who’s your leader? Who are your parents? Did anyone ever teach you people any manners?”

The man’s words carried a genuinely commanding authority, and Meng Biao and the others were only now beginning to realize what had happened. Counting on their numbers, and perhaps having just killed someone earlier which gave them a certain psychological edge, they had approached aggressively even while offering a greeting—never expecting the other party to be even fiercer, with an even shorter temper, and willing to strike first without hesitation.

In the martial underworld, some measure of “rules” had developed over the years, but weakness was still the ultimate sin. If this man had been entirely unreasonable about it, they would have had to fight back to save face even at the cost of their lives after taking such a beating. But since he had at least offered some justification, that gave them a way to back down gracefully. Meng Biao cupped his hands together. “This… this truly was our fault, but, this, brother, tonight we came to execute yellow dogs in the name of righteousness. We were chasing down two such dogs and arrived here in some haste, which led to this offense. We hope you, brother… we hope you two will forgive us.”

As he spoke, Qu Longjun, sword slung across her back, had already appeared on slightly higher ground. Moonlight fell across her, her long robe fluttering, her gaze cool and composed—instantly lending her an even more intimidating air of a hidden master.

“Executing yellow dogs… that’s understandable, given the circumstances.” Down below, seated on the rock, Ning Ji put on an expression of understanding. “Now that you know your mistake, you may go.”

From above, Qu Longjun spoke as well. “These yellow dogs—exactly who were they?”

Meng Biao cupped his hands. “They were… a tax collector and his attendant. We, we had already killed the corrupt official; the ones we were chasing were a few of his underlings who’d been aiding him in his cruelty.”

“Mm.” Qu Longjun nodded. “Well, that certainly deserved killing.”

Ning Ji nodded along as well. “I see. Well then, off you go. I forgive you for tonight’s offense.”

Meng Biao and his companions exchanged glances, feeling more than a little wronged in their hearts, but unsure whether they should speak up again, or how best to phrase it if they did. After hesitating like this for a moment, it was finally one of the men beside Meng Biao who stepped forward, clasping his hands together.

“Our offense tonight was indeed a fault of ours, but since you two brothers also approve of the righteous act of killing yellow dogs, you must surely be kindred spirits within the martial world who understand true justice. We chased those dogs all the way here, and we wonder… have you two brothers perhaps seen…”

He mustered up the courage to say this much, but Ning Ji’s gaze darkened, and the mood on the grassy slope grew noticeably colder. No one was quite sure whether this short-tempered master might strike out again over the question. After a moment of tense silence, he finally spoke. “We wander the martial world, and naturally share an irreconcilable hatred for the hounds of the court. You’ve chased them to the wrong place—look elsewhere.”

The group let out a collective sigh of relief, and the one who had spoken up cupped his hands together once more. “There’s, there’s also one more thing… we don’t yet, don’t yet know your names, honored sirs, or where you two hail from…” Catching a cold glance from Ning Ji, he quickly added, “Please don’t misunderstand, don’t misunderstand—we, we mean no offense at all, only that having had the honor of meeting such distinguished masters today, it would be good to be able to speak of it properly when we return, so that if our paths cross again in the future, no further misunderstandings arise.”

“I’m not particularly worried about misunderstandings,” Ning Ji said with a cold laugh, pausing before continuing. “No harm in telling you, then. I walk this world without ever changing my name or hiding my surname—Sun Wukong is my name, and in the martial world I go by the title ‘Great Sage Equal to Heaven.’ You’d best remember that well… as for my brother here, he’s surnamed Long, given name Aotian—none other than the renowned ‘Alliance Leader of the Martial World,’ Long Aotian. Got it?”

His words carried an overwhelming air of authority, and the group listening was thoroughly awed.

“The… the Alliance Leader of the Martial World…”

“…The Great Sage Equal to Heaven?”

Having wandered the martial world themselves, and having been thoroughly steeped in the wuxia novels that had spread out of the southwest in recent years, the group naturally understood the significance of a title like “Alliance Leader of the Martial World.” But of course, none of them had ever heard the name Long Aotian before, and for a moment none of them knew quite what to say. It was rather like someone announcing their name in the martial world, only for another person to suddenly declare, “I am the Emperor.” Naturally you wouldn’t believe it—but if the person making the claim had a fierce enough temper, and you couldn’t beat them in a fight, you’d hardly know what polite thing to say to their face either.

The group departed in silence, clasping their hands together in respect. Once their figures had vanished into the trees, Ning Ji finally remembered to cup his hands to his mouth and shout after them: “From now on, anyone who runs into people from our Martial Alliance had better stay wide awake!”

Qu Longjun, having earlier retreated into the tent with her hands tucked behind her back for fear of giving herself away, now stepped back out with Ning Ji as well. Peering through the gap in the tent flap for a moment, she finally turned back with a smile. “You… you didn’t have to hit them like that. I know how to exchange those underworld passwords too, you know—I told you before.”

Ning Ji shook his head with a smile. “It’s not about that. Those two officers ran through here—there were traces of it, if you looked closely. Those guys had just killed someone, their blood was up, and if they’d kept greeting us while searching all around, it would’ve been easy for them to notice something off. Once that happened, it would’ve been a fight to the death, no way around it. Beating them first, before that could happen, actually saved their lives.” He paused. “Though it is strange—why would they want to kill a tax collector, of all people?”

“I think I might have an idea about that,” Qu Longjun said softly. “Since ancient times, the emperor’s authority has never quite reached down to the county level. Tax collection has always relied on the cooperation of local clans and lineages to actually get done. Now His Majesty here has come to Fujian, and if he means to reclaim power, taxation is precisely the most sensitive point of contention. And Fujian, of all places, happens to be exactly where clan and lineage power is strongest and most deeply entrenched. Listening to the way they talked about killing yellow dogs, it sounds like the fighting between the authorities and the great clans throughout the Fujian mountains has already gotten quite fierce.”

“Ah, so that’s how it is…” Ning Ji nodded, then added, “But how’s a state supposed to function without collecting taxes?”

“Conditions probably differ a good deal from place to place,” Qu Longjun said thoughtfully. “Still, they’ve been dealt a blow tonight—will that bring more of them looking for us? Should we move somewhere else, just to be safe?”

Ning Ji thought it over for a moment. “These people… claim to be righteous men acting on their own initiative, killing tax collectors under cover of darkness. They’ve got the upper hand for the moment, but at the end of the day, they can’t possibly not be afraid of the authorities. And the ones who came just now were a pretty ragtag bunch. I don’t think… we need to worry too much for now…”

Even as he said this, after a while he still got up and helped Qu Longjun pack up their things, shifting their resting spot slightly for the night. His skills, of course, were more than a match for any trouble that might come—but there was no need to take unnecessary risks either… —

While Ning Ji was busy relocating their camp, on the other side, Meng Biao and his companions limped their way back, meeting up with some of their fellow “righteous men” and the leaders who’d brought them together, in a dilapidated temple nearby in the mountains, to recount what had happened.

“…The few of us ran into this sharp-faced, monkey-cheeked fellow over there, and without a word, he just started hitting anyone in sight…”

These men, as it turned out, weren’t actually bandits from any established stronghold, but rather righteous heroes recruited from various places by their leaders. Hearing now of the ferocity of this sharp-faced man, the group erupted in an uproar. Some insisted he must be a lackey of the court and that they should immediately gather their forces to go kill him and reclaim their honor. But given that their earlier operation to kill the tax collector had likely already stirred up trouble, this hardly seemed like the moment to go looking for more.

Amid the general commotion, once someone mentioned the names “Alliance Leader of the Martial World” Long Aotian and “Great Sage Equal to Heaven” Sun Wukong, everyone agreed these must be nothing more than made-up aliases used to brush them off. As the discussion continued and the group was on the verge of dispersing, a man dressed like a scholar among them raised his hand with a frown. “Wait a moment—I believe… I’ve heard of these two before.”

“Oh?” Everyone, including the group’s leaders, turned to look at him.

The scholarly man pulled out a bundle from inside his robe, opened it, and produced several books resembling registers of heroes, immediately beginning to search through them.

After a moment, he found what he was looking for.

Everyone leaned in to look, and each of them drew a sharp breath.

It was a bounty notice that had been posted the previous year within the territory controlled by the Fair Party in Jiangning. At the time, Jiangning had announced plans to hold the “First Under Heaven” martial tournament, drawing heroes from every corner of the realm—even Lin Zongwu, once hailed as the greatest fighter under heaven, had clashed there with masters of the Black Banner. Ever since then, the Fair King had turned the whole board upside down, and now all of Jiangnan was locked in chaotic conflict. Any master capable of surviving in such an environment would, by comparison, be operating on a level considerably above anything found in Fujian. And there, prominently listed on that bounty notice from back then, were the very names Long Aotian and Sun Wukong, ranked quite high—and to still be alive to this day was proof enough of the two men’s astonishing skill. Meng Biao and the others hadn’t been wronged at all, then, in taking a beating at their hands.

Only, the reasons given on the bounty notice, and the nicknames recorded there, differed slightly from what the two men had given themselves.

The group crowded around to look at the two nicknames listed on the bounty, rubbing their chins, expressions shifting between sudden realization and complicated unease. Whatever righteous fury and bloodlust they’d felt earlier was, in an instant, entirely swept away.

Someone nodded. Beside him, another followed suit.

“Mm…”

“This is…”

“These are two…”

“These are two… master villains of the deviant path.”

Understanding dawned on the group.

And then Meng Biao and the others understood too:

No wonder… I got beaten.

No wonder his temper was so short.

Because… they were exactly that kind of deviant-path master. —

Overhead, the stars and moon drifted slowly westward, while the furtive figures scattered through the mountains gathered and dispersed once more.

In the mist-shrouded mountains, Ning Ji and Qu Longjun rose early, built a fire, and ate a simple breakfast before packing up their bundles and leading the red-flower horse down the mountain. After a while, they gradually passed through a village and emerged onto the “main road” running through the mountains.

Traffic along the ancient Xianxia Road was sparse, but they were already drawing close to Pucheng county town, and every so often they could now spot mountain villagers carrying loads on shoulder poles. Talking and laughing together, Ning Ji and Qu Longjun planned to set up their stall in the liveliest part of town, and perhaps sample some local mountain delicacies to reward themselves after the long journey.

As they neared a bend in the mountain road just before reaching the county town, the two of them spotted, up ahead by the roadside, the bruised and battered figure of the “righteous hero” Meng Biao—

Along with several other figures standing beside him.