Several chaotic figures closed the distance between them in an instant, colliding — some threw themselves forward without regard for their own safety, some charged, some dodged, some swung their blades amid frenzied screaming. Steel clashed in the air, throwing off violent sparks, the sharp, jarring clang making teeth ache and palms go numb.
One constable, trying to dodge, had his arm severed. The severed limb flew upward on a spray of blood, the same diagonal downward slash also tearing across his belly. He staggered backward, and the assassin who had rushed forward, his long blade still whistling through the air like wind, passed through the man’s body with even greater violence. Meanwhile another constable, charging forward with blade raised, found his broad sword locked together with his opponent’s long saber, both men shouting as they hauled and wrenched with all their strength, crashing and grappling back and forth through the alley.
At the same moment, Ni Po’s fists slammed with full force against Song Xiaoming’s saber. He fought with his fists against a weapon, his forearms wrapped in heavy iron bars, both hands guarding his upper body as he swung outward in wheeling arcs — much like the later “Iron Wire Fist,” relying on the compressed force of a short-range weapon overpowering a longer one to break directly through the middle of the blade. This was already considered an unorthodox, aggressive style within the martial world. Song Xiaoming’s long saber spun and coiled, trying to drag its arcing edge whistling toward his opponent’s lower body, his feet meanwhile retreating step by step to open some distance. Beside him, the assassin who had swooped down like a hawk struck several blows in an instant against the retreating constable, then swung around toward Song Xiaoming’s back.
Song Xiaoming drew an iron ruler with his other hand to block. Ahead, the Iron Fist came crashing down like thunder. He tilted his head as he retreated, the searing punch grazing past the corner of his forehead.
Thud, thud, thud—
He retreated three steps to reach the alley’s blue-brick wall, and in those three steps he let out a long, ringing cry, his saber and iron ruler swinging and striking without pause. But ahead of him and to his side, even more ferocious fists and blades ground past him.
Sunlight fell across the alley and the surrounding courtyards, startling birds into flight. In a span of time that wasn’t long at all, the screaming gradually died down, and the pounding, rhythmic sound of fists gradually slowed from its earlier fury.
The smell of blood spread out from the alley.
Not long after, out on the road beyond the alley, a tall figure with blood-soaked fists pressed his bloodied hand against the wall beside the street, leaving a thick, dark print, then called out at the top of his voice:
—The one who killed Chief Constable Song Xiaoming is none other than “Iron Fist” Ni Po.
…
By now it was evening. In the distant streets, a signal whistle had first sounded — probably constables making some arrest elsewhere. But before long, more and more whistles rang out, and the streets on the city’s east side began to grow restless.
Ning Ji climbed up onto a rooftop to look out for a while and saw mounted constables riding anxiously through the already-crowded city streets, the faint unrest even seeming to stretch out toward the direction of the Imperial Palace…
Pedestrians on the streets and residents of the wards gradually began to murmur among themselves. Of course, from yesterday evening until now, disturbances large and small hadn’t stopped once within the city, so this was probably just another somewhat thorny incident cropping up.
Qu Longjun had already dressed in men’s clothing and finished tidying up the cart, and now stood at the courtyard gate, watching for a while and listening to some meaningless gossip drifting over from the neighbors.
After a while, Ning Ji, up on the roof, spotted Chen Hua from the Guitai Alliance. He leapt from his own courtyard to the neighboring rooftop, cupped his hands to his mouth, and called out a few times. Once Chen Hua noticed him, he leapt back over amid the annoyed glares of the neighboring household, giggling “heh heh heh” the whole way.
Chen Hua scurried over to the courtyard like a loyal lackey, calling out with a smile to Qu Longjun at the gate: “Heh heh heh, Young Hero Long, Young Hero Sun, so you two live here?”
Qu Longjun began chatting with him. Up on the roof, Ning Ji only called out, “Ask him what’s happened,” without hurrying down himself, instead standing on the roof continuing to watch the commotion in the city. The crowded roads of Fuzhou at dusk had a way of amplifying any unusual disturbance, and even without a telescope up here to survey the whole scene from above, someone with his training could still infer quite a lot just from how the unrest was spreading.
Something big has happened…
After a while, Qu Longjun climbed the stairs up onto the roof and told him what she’d just learned — Chief Constable Song Xiaoming had been killed not long before.
Ning Ji’s brow furrowed.
…
At that same moment, in the Imperial Palace, the setting sun could be seen gradually turning blood-red, spreading its color over everything.
In the Royal Study, the assembled officials were still deliberating. A large map of Fuzhou and its surroundings hung high on the wall, with the many events of the past day and night already compiled and marked upon it.
Anticipating that a day like this would eventually come, the Ministry of Justice, the Zuo family, and the men of the Imperial Guard Office under Tie Tianying’s direct command had all made extensive preparations. Many leads that had long been under watch were now being acted upon, with arrests and raids launched starting the previous night, all while trying, in this same sweep, to uncover core leads on Pu Xingui, Chen Shuangran, and Cao Jinlong.
At its core, the confrontation now unfolding was still a matter of the imperial house breaking openly with certain great clans and gentry — but the visible focal point of this whole contest had come to symbolically rest on these three figures: Pu Xingui, Chen Shuangran, and Cao Jinlong. Catch these three, and the flames already lit could be extinguished; those harboring ill intent would fold their banners and retreat. But fail to catch them, and any purge of the great clans would amount to little more than skimming the surface of a boiling pot.
In other words, the essential strategy was to strike at the great clans, but the tactical execution of that strategy had, for now, come to rest on these three rebel figures before them.
A full day and night had passed, and it couldn’t be said there’d been no progress at all, but nothing had yet touched the core of the operation. And so, going forward, there was nothing to do but keep pushing on, hoping that among the vast number of leads, a few might finally allow them to pin down the whereabouts of these three rebels.
The discussion had gone on for the better part of the day, but at this moment, due to news that had just come in from outside the palace, everyone in the study fell silent all at once. The Emperor’s face had darkened terribly, and even Tie Tianying seemed briefly dazed — but a moment later, he had his subordinates go handle matters concerning his disciple outside the palace, while he himself remained behind in the Royal Study.
In the room, Jun Wu said nothing. Zuo Wenhuai, summoned into the palace, said nothing either. Tie Tianying likewise stayed silent. After a while, one of the younger, more hard-line officials in the room finally stepped forward.
“This humble official dares to speak again — I beg Your Majesty to make a firm decision, to order the Zhenhai and Beiwei armies to move against every disloyal great clan here in Fujian! As this official has argued before, the treasonous intentions of many among Fujian’s great clans have long been plain for all to see. Toward such people, there should never be any thought of extending polite hospitality. The savagery unleashed in Fuzhou tonight is, plainly speaking, nothing more than these great clans using their holdings and connections within the city to shield these villains from behind the scenes. At present, the court’s military strength in Fujian still holds an absolute advantage — this matter is urgent. In this official’s view, mobilize the great army, sweep through the whole of Fujian, and interrogate these clans thoroughly — evidence will surely be found…”
“Enough—” Jun Wu, his face dark, slammed his palm down on the table.
The blood-red glow of the setting sun spread through the hall. The young hard-line official knelt down. He was, in truth, a favored young official who had embraced the doctrine of “honoring the sovereign and expelling the barbarians” — his views radical, and in truth representative of the sentiments of a great many young men of his generation. “This official begs to speak at the cost of his life! I stake my very existence that I have no ulterior motive whatsoever!”
Jun Wu fell silent for a moment. “…And if no evidence is found?”
The official too fell silent for a moment, then said, gritting his teeth: “…These great clans of Fujian refuse to submit to the crown’s civilizing rule — this contradiction is fundamentally unresolvable. This time… even if charges must be fabricated, it would hardly do them much injustice. Only by purging these people can the common people of Fujian truly come under Your Majesty’s rule… This official knows such a thing would never be acceptable in an age of peace, but the realm now teeters on the brink, and if Your Majesty means to set the tilting heavens right again, there can be no more hesitation. I beg Your Majesty, make the decision! If you fear repercussions afterward, this official is willing to be the one who deals with these disloyal wretches on Your Majesty’s behalf — and if anything is handled poorly, Your Majesty may seize and punish this official at any time—”
His words carried firm resolve, even a kind of noble willingness to face death without regret. Beside him, Zuo Wenhuai frowned slightly but said nothing. Jun Wu stared at him for a while, then sighed.
“…Lord Tie… the one who died… was my chief constable, and also your disciple… Tell me what you think.”
Tie Tianying stepped forward, seeming to give a faint sigh of his own.
“This old servant believes… it absolutely cannot be done,” he said calmly.
Jun Wu nodded.
“Why not?”
…
The glow of the setting sun spread like some vast, enchanted treasure, blanketing everything above the people, above the city, stretching out toward a horizon without end.
Ning Ji and Qu Longjun packed up the cart and drove it toward Silver Bridge Ward.
He sighed. “…Honestly, this has got to be the most spineless emperor I’ve ever seen. Heh, and here I thought he was doing pretty well for himself…”
Chief Constable Song Xiaoming had been killed, and the murderer had even brazenly shown himself in the street afterward, then vanished into the nearby alleys, slipping through the constables’ encirclement entirely. Beyond simply demonstrating the man’s formidable skill, this incident also revealed just how much control the hidden opposition actually held over the city.
Over the more than a month since arriving in the city, Ning Ji had at least believed that while the court’s faction lacked the strength to fully control the mountainous regions, it still maintained absolute dominance in the major cities. Who would have known that once this fierce clash broke out, he would discover that the many villains operating in the shadows also held tremendous sway over the city itself.
Having held Fujian for three years, and still unable to fully secure even the capital — forced into this kind of tug-of-war even after the mask had already come off — it was, frankly, rather pitiful.
Qu Longjun shook her head, though. “It’s not quite that simple. These great clans native to Fujian, back when the Wu Dynasty was at its height, wouldn’t have even had the standing to exchange a single word with the Emperor. But if you really tally it up, they represent the combined strength of tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands of people. For them to bare their teeth against the court — well, the Ministry of Justice’s chief constable, however impressive his title sounds, is still, in the end, just one man…”
“If it’s come to this, shouldn’t they just seal off the city and do a full sweep?” Ning Ji said. “Mobilize the city patrol army, lock down every ward and market, and screen through them one by one — they’d surely turn up plenty of people that way… Do you think the court will actually do that?”
He raised the idea, and Qu Longjun fell silent for a while before leaning in close and murmuring, “…I don’t think they will.”
“…Why not?”
“His Majesty gathered a great many people here in Fuzhou for the purpose of taking consorts. And in the shadows, the villains looking to stir up trouble have gathered just as many people of their own. Since yesterday, both sides have already drawn blood. If I were Chen Shuangran or Pu Xingui, the moment the city gets sealed, I’d simply flee far away… A citywide lockdown and mass search, if it fails to catch the true masterminds, will only make things worse the more people it sweeps up. On one hand, people will start to feel the Emperor has torn off the mask and begun slaughtering people indiscriminately across Fujian. On the other, they’ll feel the court can’t even control the situation in Fuzhou itself. At that point, if Chen Shuangran and the rest raise a single call to arms, every clan across Fujian would rise up and answer, retreating into the mountains.”
“Heh.” Ning Ji smiled. “So like I said, this emperor really is spineless — tied hand and foot…”
Because his elders back home occasionally spoke of this “disciple” ruling the southeast, Ning Ji had always held a fairly favorable impression of the young Emperor here. Having seen, over this trip to Fuzhou, just how orderly and well-run the city had seemed at first, he’d genuinely felt some measure of goodwill toward him. And now, seeing that even small dogs like this Chen Shuangran and Pu Xingui could manage to get the Ministry of Justice’s chief constable assassinated in the street, Ning Ji actually felt a pang of frustration on the Emperor’s behalf.
Of course, right now none of this had much to do with him personally. He was still planning the assassination attempt on Tie Tianying as he left the palace, and figuring out how to make Pu Xingui’s side see him as one of the “bad guys” too. The matter had only just begun, and with too few leads to go on, there was no point rushing things. He thought it over briefly and concluded there was nothing to do but watch the show and take things one step at a time.
Still, he couldn’t help feeling a bit curious. His father had always described this young Emperor as a simple, obedient child — and even when speaking of the events surrounding the fall of the Jianshuo court, had spoken quite highly of the young Emperor’s several tragic, valiant last stands. Now that this great upheaval had broken out, Zuo Wenhuai and the others hadn’t shown anything like the flawless foresight the southwest was known for. He wondered — if his father were here, watching this young Emperor get pushed around like this, what method he’d use to drag these shadow-dwelling little dogs, Chen Shuangran and Pu Xingui, out into the light and crush them.
Sometimes, thinking about it, he felt that if he himself had that kind of ability, he probably would step in and lend the Emperor a hand — and, of course, would take the opportunity to strangle that bastard Tie Tianying while he was at it.
Thinking this over, he couldn’t help but glance over at his own strategist, Qu Longjun. Her potential was enormous — she couldn’t quite pull off something like this yet, but if she kept traveling the martial world alongside him, and later joined forces with a few of the Huaxia Army’s special operations units, who knew — maybe somewhere down the line, she too could help him shine before a crowd the way his father once had, and cut a truly impressive figure.
Thinking of this, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, “heh heh,” under his breath.
Beside him, Qu Longjun, brow furrowed, thought it over for a moment as well. “The situation in Fuzhou isn’t peaceful right now. Once things escalate further, the great clans watching quietly from the sidelines will probably have to pick a side once and for all in this final round. Thinking it over carefully, the one thing the court here truly holds a decisive advantage in is still its nearly two hundred thousand troops. If pushed hard enough, they really might send in the army and crush these people in one sweep.”
Ning Ji gazed ahead, and this time didn’t overthink it. “Then in the game for the realm, the young Emperor would be completely out of the running.”
“Hm?” Qu Longjun looked at him, blinking.
…
Within the Imperial Palace, Tie Tianying stood there and let out a sigh.
“…This old servant came up through the Ministry of Justice, and has always stayed closest to the constables at the bottom, understanding the men within every office better than most. The one thing this old servant has always understood most clearly is this: many yamen officials, when they first enter the profession, still hold some measure of compassion for the common people. But almost invariably, the very first time they extract a false confession through torture, the first time they fabricate a case to frame someone… that person becomes forever incapable of handling a genuinely difficult case, because from then on, whenever a truly hard case comes along, they will, more often than not, fall back on exactly that same method — torture, fabrication — to get through it…”
Jun Wu’s palm came down on the table again, helplessly.
The young hard-line official kneeling below gritted his teeth. “The bandits run rampant, and in this official’s view, the knot between the court and the great clans is one that can scarcely ever be untied… Let this be a matter of expedient necessity, just this once…”
“Enough.” Jun Wu spoke from above. “I have only the lot of you as my administration, only the lot of you as ministers I can rely on. If, facing a crisis this large, I say ‘expedient measures’ are acceptable this time, then the next time something equally large comes along, all of you will reach for expedient measures again as well. Untangling the knot between the court and Fujian’s great clans through sheer force — is that truly such a large matter? Was the Fairness Party affair not a large matter? Fighting the Jurchens — was that not a large matter? The confrontation with the southwest — was that not large? There are plenty of large matters in this world; one simply meets each with the appropriate response as it comes, and unravels it patiently, piece by piece…”
There wasn’t much passion in these words, nor any particular rhetorical flourish, but the will behind them was unmistakably clear-headed. Having finished, he paused briefly. “Also, Minister Yu — I know your sincere intentions, and I know that many of the young officials recently promoted at court share your same thinking… And it’s precisely for that reason, to serve as a warning to others, that I’m demoting you three ranks this time. Go back down and start over from the bottom. I hope you will reflect deeply on this, earn merit once again, and in time return to advise before the throne.”
“…Do you have any complaints?”
The Royal Study fell silent for a while, and then the official knocked his head against the floor with a resounding thud.
…
The setting sun gradually deepened into a blood-red crimson as the carriage drew near Silver Bridge Ward.
Ning Ji gently flicked the reins.
“…Fighting for the realm, when it comes down to it, is really about winning the hearts of the people. Here in Fuzhou, the people’s hearts aren’t fully with the court, precisely because out in the wild mountain regions, these clans genuinely have a reason to exist — it’s the common people who need their clans, not simply the clans enslaving the common people… Even if the young Emperor slaughtered every clan in Fujian, would the common people submit to him then? No, they wouldn’t. In the end, the army would just turn into warlords, forced to rely on brute pressure and outright plunder to squeeze taxes and military funds out of the people, and before long, even armies like the Zhenhai and Beiwei would degenerate into bandit forces incapable of fighting anything at all… In this business of fighting for the realm, it’s not that you can’t kill people — but killing without winning the people’s hearts in the process only ends up destroying yourself…”
He spoke these words rather casually. In the seat beside him, Qu Longjun was first taken aback, then her gaze gradually cleared, her face flushing slightly, her eyes filling with something like admiration. In truth, back during her recovery in the southwest, she’d often looked at that stern-faced young army medic with exactly this kind of expression. Now that things had been made official between them, most of the time what she felt from him was his liveliness and charm — but he did, after all, possess this side of wisdom too.
Ning Ji noticed the look on her face and preened a little inside. After a moment, he laughed as well.
“Heh heh, they talk about this kind of thing all the time in the Huaxia Army…”
Not long after, the two of them arrived at Silver Bridge Ward and set up their stall.
…
Night gradually replaced the sunset.
Several carriages moved naturally through the streets of Fuzhou. Though they could see one another ahead and behind, they kept themselves well spread apart, so that at a glance, none would seem to know the others at all.
Inside one of the carriages, a curtain was quietly lifted, and a pair of eyes — calm yet stirring with excitement all at once — gazed out toward the distant Gold-and-Silver Bridge archway in the distance.
“…Stop somewhere nearby and out of sight, then the rest of you can go.”
“This…” The driver hesitated.
“I’m going to handle something. Those above already know… my safety has nothing to do with you all.”
“…”
The carriage finally turned aside.
…
Inside the carriage ahead, a disguised Chen Shuangran was speaking quietly with the middle-aged man inside, who kept watch over their surroundings and was the first to notice something off about the middle carriage in their column.
“Slow down,” he instructed.
A moment later, someone came running up and silently climbed aboard the carriage, reporting to Chen Shuangran and the others on the situation with “Iron Fist” Ni Po.
“The matter I asked about?” the middle-aged man asked, frowning slightly.
“…There is one thing.” Chen Shuangran thought it over, then said, somewhat languidly.
“What is it?”
Chen Shuangran gave a rough account, and after listening, the man’s brow furrowed.
“He’s just killed the Ministry of Justice’s chief constable, and the yamen is still sweeping through the area nearby. Testing his mettle against someone right now — think carefully, the chances of something going wrong aren’t small.”
“The back half of Silver Bridge Ward is the fish market…” Chen Shuangran smiled. “Arrangements were made long ago… Besides, even if he does get caught… what does that have to do with us…”
The middle-aged man nodded, somewhat helplessly. “Let’s switch carriages. We can’t let Ni Po know we were anywhere nearby.”
“Mm.” Chen Shuangran nodded, smiling. “Actually… that’s just how heroes of the martial world are — sometimes doing things their own way, and sometimes… rather amusing, don’t you think…”
The middle-aged man shook his head. “Never mind. Ni Po’s skills are solid, his foundation well-built — after this round of trial by fire, he’ll amount to something great in the future. I’m not particularly worried about a bunch of flashy showmen getting the better of him. Even if the yamen has its eye on him for now, that doesn’t mean there’s no way out for him. It’s just that if he could rein in his hunger for fame and fortune a bit… if he could learn to follow orders… our chances of pulling this off safely would be that much greater…”
“…You really do admire him, don’t you.”
“Enough of that. There’s still plenty of time to make use of him…”
They stepped down from the carriage and switched to another means of transport. In the night sky, the stars blinked faintly.
…
Ni Po draped a thin cloak over himself and slipped through the dim alleyways.
The blood in his veins was still surging.
Having killed Chief Constable Song Xiaoming, his entire body remained in a state of intense excitement — that brief, fierce, life-or-death struggle had pushed him to his very peak, and now, having successfully killed his enemy, an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and satisfaction burned within him like fire.
He was a martial artist who had come up from a small town, tempering himself over half a lifetime. He had originally planned to make his name at the Heroes’ Assembly in Jiangning city, but before he could even establish himself there, the greatest man under heaven, Lin Zongwu, had swept through every dueling platform in the city in succession, giving him, for the first time, a real sense of the gap between people — and along with it, a taste of the fierce, surging passion that lay behind such power.
During his time in Jiangning, he had devoted himself entirely to the martial path, fighting his way steadily through the dueling platforms. But by the later stages of the tournament, thanks to the Fairness King’s interference, all the top figures in the city turned their attention toward tedious politics, and the platform matches became a trivial sideshow — especially near the very end, when He Wen overturned a table and a mass brawl broke out across the city, which even directly led to the tournament’s abandonment. His enthusiasm had been doused as if by a bucket of cold water — but through it, he’d also come to understand the true meaning of his own life.
He suppressed his anger.
During his time here in Fuzhou, he had crossed hands with many masters on Chen Shuangran’s side, even receiving guidance from grandmasters including Master Tunyun himself, and both his cultivation and his outlook had advanced by leaps and bounds. Everyone knew his future held boundless promise, and he himself understood this more clearly than anyone.
He wasn’t foolish, nor was he some simple-minded brute. The clash between the great clans and the court had only just begun; the Ministry of Justice hadn’t yet gotten a clear picture of who exactly made up Chen Shuangran’s side, and Chen Shuangran and the others still had plenty of room to maneuver within the city. This period was the best possible window for him to make a name for himself and still get away clean. Having just killed Song Xiaoming and proudly declared his own name in the street, if within the next two hours he could pull off yet another feat and still walk away unscathed, then in time, when people of the martial world spoke of him, it would carry the same dashing air as the old tale of Guan Yu passing five checkpoints and slaying six generals.
The day before, Chen Yan had told him a number of things, one of which had come up almost as a passing aside.
“…My mistress has learned that young master Pu Xingui, desperate enough to grab at anything, wants to recruit two youths in the city to work for him. I hear the two are only sixteen, seventeen, eighteen years old or so — last year in Jiangning, they even carried some reputation as ‘lechers.’ You may have heard of them. If you have the opportunity and confidence these next few days, you might try testing them… Of course, the main task comes first…”
Ni Po vaguely recalled having indeed heard the names of these two young dogs.
They’d apparently caused some trouble back in Jiangning city.
But dogs like that, not even fully grown yet — recruiting them?
Chen Shuangran had scoffed at the idea, and Ni Po found it rather laughable too. Of course, in the eyes of masters like Ni Po, this Pu Xingui truly was ignorant and laughable — though on the surface they were nominally allies, he wouldn’t mind teaching the man a lesson personally.
This was the best possible moment.
Whether he seriously injured the two of them, or killed one of them outright, made little difference to him — he would finish the fight as quickly as possible, then, either before the constables arrived or after, make a grand exit. He’d already made arrangements here in Silver Bridge Ward, and had long since worked out his escape route. And by riding this day’s momentum to its absolute peak, he could return afterward and savor this hard-won insight at leisure, rising to yet another level.
At a quarter past the hour of Xu, Ni Po stepped into the streets of Silver Bridge Ward.
Within the ward market, though there were fewer people than usual, lanterns still stretched on endlessly, and quite a crowd remained.
Tall and imposing, still carrying the blood-scent of battle, he strode forward like a demon god, reaching up with one hand to grip his cloak and fling it aside into the night sky.
The heat of the summer night felt almost like poetry, intoxicating.
Not far off, in front of the general goods stall, a little dog stared at him, dumbstruck…