“A youth… with his face wrapped in floral cloth?”

“Very vicious… and quite good-looking too…”

“…Doesn’t observe a shred of jianghu etiquette…”

“…No manners to speak of, either?”

In the yamen room, before the two underworld men had even finished their account, Zuo Wenxuan already felt he might recognize such a person.

On the other side, the siblings, their wounds not yet fully bandaged, exchanged a glance. Yue Yun slammed his hand down on the table and stood up.

“That bastard! I know who that was—”

He was about to stride outside when Zuo Wenxuan gave a start and rose to his feet. “Stop him! Silver Bottle, stop your brother—”

He was so tense in that instant he nearly spat as he spoke; the constables in the courtyard nearly drew their blades. Silver Bottle also sprang up at once and lunged to grab her brother by the shoulder.

The siblings turned back to see Zuo Wenxuan pointing a finger at Yue Yun.

“You—you—you still have unresolved matters with the law. You need to go back with the others to the Ministry of Justice and have your name properly cleared before you can leave. Whatever you know, tell me, and I’ll handle it. And… these two men here, hand them to me as well, I’ll take them with me!”

“I’m taking responsibility for this matter. No more complications.”

Ever since returning from the southwest, Zuo Wenxuan, having witnessed the Jurchen battle formations, had felt that nothing in the world could truly rattle him anymore, and normally carried himself with an air of composure. But this time his own formation had been thrown into disarray, and his speech had even stumbled for a moment. Fortunately, using the excuse of worrying that Yue Yun might act rashly to cover himself, he made his way, after a while, into a room within, thick with the smell of blood and medicine, where he found Tie Tianying, his wounds having just received initial treatment.

The old man was wrapped from head to toe in bandages, propped against the head of the bed, his face pale, though his gaze remained clear. With Zuo Wenxuan’s own level of skill, he could not, for the moment, tell just how serious the situation truly was.

“Lord Tie.”

“Wenxuan’s here.”

As the two met, Tie Tianying’s voice sounded somewhat weak, his breath faintly labored. “How are things at Houguan County?”

“Proceeding as planned, everything going smoothly. But hearing about the situation here with you, sir, I came rushing over at once. How are you feeling, sir? Is your injury serious?”

“I won’t die, at least.” Propped up in bed, Tie Tianying spoke slowly, pausing slightly after each sentence before continuing to the next. “The one behind the ambush has already been confirmed—an old colleague of mine from my days at the Liufa Gate, ‘Golden-Eyed Thousand Feathers,’ Fan Zhong. That I couldn’t bring him down was my own miscalculation, and it’s held everyone back…”

“This…”

Zuo Wenxuan shook his head, about to speak, when he heard the other continue.

“As for the people you arranged, Wenxuan—they’ve already won their trust, I take it?”

Zuo Wenxuan looked ahead into the somewhat dim room; Tie Tianying’s gaze looked back at him, weak yet still tinged with something playful. The room fell silent for a good while, and Zuo Wenxuan frowned, cupping his hands.

“In truth… that wasn’t quite my own arrangement…”

His words carried some reservation, and Tie Tianying nodded.

“So it seems—at least you have a sense of it in your own mind. Then these blade-wounds of mine haven’t gone entirely to waste…” He closed his eyes slightly, recalling the scene. “I haven’t crossed blades with anyone from the southwest in many years, but by the time the blade struck home, I could still tell, from the very essence of his swordsmanship, that it traced back to the Hegemon Blade. His style differed somewhat from the army techniques you all learned—for his skill to reach that level, he must have inherited the martial legacy of the Hegemon Blade itself. And more than that, he struck in fury the moment he saw me use a technique from the southwestern school of swordsmanship, and killing intent rose in him. It’s clear this man has deep ties to the Liu family, though he is not one of the disciples who came here together with you all…”

Tie Tianying’s mastery of the martial way had already reached the level of a grandmaster, and in a life-or-death struggle, he was especially sensitive to an opponent’s emotional state. Struck by several blades this time, nearly to the point of death, he had nonetheless managed to glean these crucial pieces of information from it. Zuo Wenxuan’s brow furrowed slightly, and for a moment he found himself at a loss for words. Though the two of them stood in the same camp, both trusted from above and both part of the inner circle of power, the old man’s words at this moment, in truth, already carried a rather serious note of interrogation within them.

For a long time now, this group of young people from the Zuo family who had returned from the southwest had held a special, somewhat aloof standing within the southeastern court, and many, in truth, had no doubts at all about their ability. But the accusation that most people had persistently held onto was this: where, in the end, did the Zuo family’s loyalty truly lie—with the Wu dynasty, or with the black banner of the southwest?

Even the venerable Zuo Duanyou of years past, in sending his own children off to be tempered at Xiaocang River, had been seen by many as an act of disloyalty toward the Wu dynasty; his flexible views on the orthodoxy of Confucian teaching had also often drawn criticism from certain conservative scholars. And though these young people who had come from the southwest appeared to be laboring for the Wu dynasty, seeking a way forward for it, if the day ever came when the southwest truly rose up in open conflict against the Wu court, where would these young people stand? This was a difficult thing to say for certain.

Among the lower ranks of the court, such talk arose constantly, and yet, strangely enough, among the upper echelons of the court, the one most at ease and most open-minded about the whole matter was, in fact, none other than the Emperor, Jun Wu, himself. He would often say to others that with the matters right in front of him still unresolved, there was no room to worry over such distant concerns—that it was simply worrying needlessly over nothing.

And yet those below him, including Zhou Pei, Li Pin, Tie Tianying, Cheng Fang, and Wenren Buer, had all, deep down, harbored some degree of private unease over this matter. If it turned out that, this time, beyond the members of the Zuo family, there also existed intelligence operatives from the southwest whom even the court itself knew nothing about, and that the Zuo family maintained secret contact with them, then this sort of concealment from the court would already constitute an extremely dangerous situation—one that, if brought to light and used against them, could escalate in either direction, mild or severe.

Tie Tianying, holding the position of Deputy Commissioner overseeing the Imperial Guard Bureau stationed here, had jurisdiction that fell precisely over these very matters within the city; that he had not turned hostile on the spot, and had only made these few pointed remarks, already represented an attitude of considerable deference and trust toward the Zuo family.

The room remained quiet for a long while. Zuo Wenxuan let out a sigh. “This matter… I’ll report it specifically to His Majesty. Rest assured, my lord, there will be a reasonable account given.”

Tie Tianying nodded, then drew in a breath.

“…If we wanted to plant a spy among the enemy, spreading word of my death might serve better. But given the current state of things, I can’t fake my own death—do you agree, Wenxuan?”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way. You hold the Imperial Guard Bureau, sir; if people were led to truly believe the assassination attempt had succeeded, it would do more harm than good for our side. And… this person only recently arrived from the southwest, and carries no particular mission here; his temperament is wild and unpredictable, and I doubt I could even direct him myself. This time was, most likely, simply a matter of happening to be in the right place at the wrong time. I hope you’ll forgive him, my lord… and someday… I would be so bold as to make a request of you—I beg you, my lord… to show him some leniency…”

“That, I cannot promise you.” Tie Tianying narrowed his eyes and glanced at him, then closed his eyes and leaned back. “My old grudge with the Hegemon Blade, each of us serving our own master—that was always a small matter of the jianghu, killing back and forth, hardly worth mentioning. But as things stand now, Tie Tianying’s life belongs to the Wu court, and I cannot cast it aside so lightly. This man’s swordsmanship is vicious, his skill first-rate; I am gravely wounded today, and if he presses his advantage and comes for me again, I cannot promise to hold back. I hope Wenxuan will understand.”

“It was wrong of me to press you on this. I’ll caution him not to trouble Lord Tie again.”

“…He carries the legacy of the Hegemon Blade—his standing must not be a simple one.” The room fell silent for a moment; Tie Tianying lay there with his eyes closed, and only then spoke again, slowly. “Tell him this from me: I won’t hold today’s matter against him. But once things have settled, once the world is at peace, this old man would welcome him warmly—to come and cross blades with me, for the sake of it… I have a great deal of insight I’d like to share with him.”

Having been struck by several blades and attacked jointly by Fan Zhong and Tunyun, Tie Tianying had, in truth, already been pushing himself to speak this much through sheer will; by this point, his voice had grown gradually lower, and only now did Zuo Wenxuan begin to grasp just how serious his injuries truly were. He cupped his hands at once and said, “Understood.”

Taking his leave, Zuo Wenxuan felt only the veins in his forehead throbbing.

This disturbance at Houguan County and today’s response to it was a matter of great importance to the court; Tie Tianying’s injury, as Commissioner of the Imperial Guard Bureau, was likewise a matter of great importance; and the hint he had dropped about the Zuo family colluding with the southwest was equally a matter of great importance… The scale of each of these matters differed, but even Tie Tianying himself probably could not have guessed that, when it truly came down to it, the identity of that ill-mannered little thief was likely the thorniest problem of them all.

In their earlier dealings, Zuo Wenxuan had even cautioned him not to act recklessly, to try to suppress, as much as possible, the grudge between him and Tie Tianying—to keep things to mere words if at all possible. Who could have known the fellow would suddenly appear in the midst of a killing match between several grandmasters, and hack Tie Tianying half to death besides… Having grown somewhat complacent earlier, Zuo Wenxuan now, at this very moment, suddenly felt as though he could no longer keep the situation contained.

The trouble was, it was this old fool’s own inadequate martial skill that had failed to keep that little brat in check, getting himself hacked half to death and thoroughly disgracing the court in the process—so how, in the end, had it turned into his own problem instead…

Thinking it over, he found it thoroughly ill-omened. What had originally been a situation going entirely to plan—all because of that troublemaking brat…

Might as well, next time they met, simply lay an ambush with hatchet-men and have him seized once and for all…

But that little wretch was slippery as a monkey in this regard—there’d be no cornering him…

Damn it all…

The sun hung high overhead; it was nearly noon, and there was still a great deal within the city that needed attending to. Stepping out of this yamen at the foot of Jiuxian Mountain, Zuo Wenxuan turned all of this over in his mind, vexed…

Meanwhile, at the Dingtai Teahouse.

The unrest within the city had gradually intensified, then gradually subsided, though as time passed, the clamor of the common people in the streets and markets had begun to rise again. Sitting by the window, Qu Longjun gazed calmly across the tea table at the middle-aged man opposite her, though a knot of unresolved confusion had begun to form within her heart.

Cheng Fang.

Qu Longjun, of course, knew exactly who he was.

His nominal position in Fuzhou today was Chief Commissioner of the Imperial Guard Bureau stationed here, overseeing the intelligence apparatus, though beyond that he held countless other posts besides. Traced back further, he had been a disciple left behind by Qin Siyuan in years past, and one of the core figures who had helped the current Emperor rise to the throne. Given the chaos of the times and the Emperor’s deep trust in him, he was routinely dispatched wherever thorny matters arose; his real power rivaled that of the heads of the Six Ministries, nearly on par with a deputy chancellor.

Qu Longjun, of course, was well aware that she herself was here to stir up trouble.

But for a figure of such standing—one whose slightest stamp of the foot could send all of Fuzhou trembling—to suddenly appear before her and chat idly with her for so long, she could not, for the life of her, work out what reason could possibly lie behind it.

Her overall state of mind was, in fact, somewhat similar to that of Zuo Wenxuan, the strategist on the other side—she had known some unexpected turn might occur, only she had never imagined it would take quite this form. It was simply too unexpected.

Of course, the role she was playing at present was that of a proud, untamable martial artist, and however confused she might feel, she could only maintain an expressionless composure and respond to whatever came her way. Once the man had taken his seat, the two of them first exchanged a few remarks about matters of the jianghu, then drifted, seemingly at random, into worldly knowledge from books—sharing views on famous mountains and rivers, touching briefly on poetry. Qu Longjun’s learning was more than adequate to keep pace, but after a long exchange, she still had no idea what the man’s true purpose or focus might be.

Seeing at this point that the unrest within the city had largely died down, she took a sip of tea and changed the subject.

“With the city in such an uproar today, doesn’t Lord Cheng have matters to attend to? How is it you have the leisure to sit here drinking tea?”

Cheng Fang smiled.

“Young hero Long won’t believe me if I say this, but at the Imperial Guard Bureau, I hold little more than the title—the actual work falls to that old man Tie Tianying. Today’s affair in the city was led by the young people of the Zuo family, with Tie Tianying coordinating alongside the Ministry of Justice; exactly how it’s all being carried out… I’m not terribly clear on it myself, ha ha, glad for the leisure. Speaking of which, that Tie Tianying is quite formidable—young hero Long ought to be careful in whatever you’re up to, and make sure not to fall into his hands. If it comes to that, I won’t be able to fish you out either…”

His words carried a teasing note, but also something of a warning in them. Qu Longjun thought it over and did not respond.

“I’ve long heard that Lord Cheng is a man of countless schemes, the most difficult to deal with among the great figures of the southeast. Since you don’t concern yourself with this matter, perhaps that means the chaos here isn’t, in fact, the crux of the real problem?”

Cheng Fang turned his teacup in his hand. “A man of countless schemes, the most difficult to deal with… where did young hero Long hear such a thing?”

“Rumors of the jianghu, without any solid basis. Would Lord Cheng say it’s accurate?”

“I’ll take it as a compliment for now. But as for the crux of the matter… what does young hero Long think the real problem in Fuzhou is, at its core?”

“Could it be… money?”

Cheng Fang laughed across the table, and after a moment, in the sunlight, his expression gradually settled into solemnity.

The two of them sat across the table from each other; in truth, Cheng Fang was more than thirty years Qu Longjun’s senior. His gaze was clear, but as one holding high office, his solemn expression at this moment carried an intimidating air of authority within it.

“Money is one way to put it. But the struggle for power, life against life—last year there were more than a few bloody massacres of entire households. The so-called gentry clans of Fujian, in truth, aren’t as tightly bound together as people imagine; when it comes to resisting the court, in the past it was usually confined to a single city or region, outward compliance masking inward defiance. But for things to escalate to today’s level, with everyone, as if by unspoken agreement, sending people into Fuzhou to stir up trouble for the court… I can’t help but wonder just who it is, behind the scenes, twisting them all together into a single cord…”

“…Not Chen Shuangran and Pu Xingui?”

“Even when the Chen and Pu families were still at full strength, they never had this kind of capability. As things stand now, at best they’re pawns out in front, at most, generals leading the charge—but to persuade the top clans of Fujian to stake their very lives on making a move at a time like this, that’s beyond them… Coordinating with one another, orchestrating a scheme of this scale, whoever’s doing the persuading behind it all must carry considerable standing themselves. That standing…”

Cheng Fang looked over at Qu Longjun. “…Someone from the Central Plains, say, or from the Equity Party, or perhaps… from the southwest—any of these could accomplish something of this scale. What does young hero Long make of that?”

“…” Qu Longjun couldn’t tell whether there was some hidden implication behind his words; she simply looked at him, her gaze cold.

“Ha ha ha ha.” Cheng Fang laughed and stood up, glancing at the sky. “It’s near noon, and I still have some matters to attend to. I won’t trouble you any further—I’ll take my leave here.”

Qu Longjun’s brow furrowed.

She hesitated a moment, and finally said, “Why has Lord Cheng told me all this?”

“Ha ha.” Cheng Fang casually brushed at his robes. “As I said before, the two young heroes acted with such righteous chivalry at Silver Bridge Ward—I happened to pass by a few days ago and went to take a look myself. Running into you here today by chance, I simply couldn’t resist coming over to make your acquaintance, and got carried away chatting for a while, that’s all.”

Qu Longjun still looked puzzled. “…Would someone of Lord Cheng’s standing really take such an interest in a few of us jianghu folk?”

Cheng Fang sighed. “This humble one once had a friend, and when he took an interest in people of the jianghu, I once asked him the very same question. Times have changed since then, and thinking back on it now brings a certain wistfulness… Of course, it’s also because the court today isn’t what it once was. In the past, the Wu dynasty had to govern the entire realm, and this humble one likely had no mind to spare for the small affairs of the underworld. Now, all we have to manage is these two provinces of Fujian and Guangdong, and my usual comings and goings within the city of Fuzhou—well, it’s neither a small matter nor a particularly large one. The day the two young heroes drove off that villain Ni Po at Silver Bridge Ward, this humble one happened to be nearby—I could hardly pretend nothing had happened. Does that answer young hero’s puzzlement?”

It certainly did not. But the man spoke with such easy contentment that Qu Longjun couldn’t be bothered to press further. Seeing him finish speaking so casually and turn to leave, he suddenly turned his head back once more and tossed out one final question.

“Oh, and young hero Long—have you ever been to the southwest?”

Qu Longjun looked up, blinking, and the two of them, one standing, one seated, gazed at each other for a good long while.

“…I have.”

“Good.”

Cheng Fang smiled, turned, and left; before long, he vanished from everyone’s sight.

…Utterly baffling…

Qu Longjun replayed every detail of the conversation over and over in her mind.

Many of Cheng Fang’s remarks had seemed to carry some hidden implication, yet every one of them had been left hanging halfway, as though she had wandered into some kind of maze with no way of finding her bearings.

The man was the highest authority at the Imperial Guard Bureau; with such enormous chaos unfolding in the city, and rather than attending to it, he had suddenly come to chat with her—and about all manner of unrelated things besides. Did he really have that much time on his hands?

He’d made a point of warning her not to fall into Tie Tianying’s hands—it seemed he must have heard some rumor that her “brother” intended to seek the man out for revenge?

For someone of his standing to come seek her out for conversation surely meant something significant; Qu Longjun had already braced herself mentally, even half-expecting that once the conversation reached its true purpose, he’d move to arrest her. And yet, nothing had happened at all.

And then there was this: that the crux of Fuzhou’s troubles lay in someone secretly linking the various great clans together behind the scenes—why tell her that? She’d only brought up the topic idly, so why had he gone into such depth about it?

Did he suspect that she and Little Long were behind it? That guess seemed far too outlandish… And besides, if his suspicion truly ran that deep, why would he only drop a couple of hints instead of taking action? Surely, if anything, he should have moved against her.

…She rubbed at her temple.

Every single detail of it made no sense.

In the end, it was simply that her own level of skill was too low. She could hold her own with Little Long, chatting about current affairs, playing at strategy on paper—but faced with a truly great figure like this, she found herself utterly unable to respond at all…

She turned all of this over in her mind. Though something was clearly amiss, she didn’t rush to leave her seat by the teahouse window. After a while, a disguised figure passed by on the road below the teahouse; Qu Longjun made the agreed-upon signal toward him, and the figure left at once, circled the surrounding area, and only then returned to signal for her to come down.

The one who had arrived, naturally, was Ning Ji, having finished his business and slipped free of the manhunt. Qu Longjun came down the stairs, and upon reaching him, pressed her lips together in a pained expression. Before her stood Ning Ji, his face marked with several patches of purple-black bruising, along with a scattering of small cuts—thoroughly beaten black and blue.

“…What happened to you?”

“I’m fine, just some minor scrapes. What about your side?” Ning Ji said. “I circled around—looks like no one’s tailing you, thankfully.”

“Something strange happened…”

The two of them walked forward together; Qu Longjun recounted, in a low voice, the entire encounter with Cheng Fang that morning, including some of the key remarks and the confusion that had followed, telling him everything. Ning Ji’s brow furrowed.

“Cheng Fang—my father’s people… he once heard Master Ning say this man is the most ruthless and hardest to deal with among the little emperor’s people here… Why would he say all this to you…”

“I’ve turned it over and over myself, and still can’t make sense of it. But thinking back carefully, this morning, although he was speaking to me, he seemed, in fact, to be treating the two of us as a pair—so I’ve been wondering, Little Long, whether you might have some connection to him that I don’t know about?”

“Connection… I—I’ve been at Xiaocang River since I was a child, and later stayed in the southwest, and only just recently made this trip out! What—what kind of connection could there possibly be. As for my father… my father’s just a sweep—a street sweeper, he’s… should… have no connections either… and besides, my father isn’t even here…”

The two of them crossed a long street, walking on, and as Qu Longjun mentioned the word “connection,” Ning Ji found himself growing flustered, his words slowing, each one carefully weighed.

As for Cheng Fang, he had never met the man and, naturally, had no impression of him at all. But as for any connection between his father’s generation and this Cheng Fang crowd—that, in truth, was something he genuinely could not sort out. There were simply too many messy possibilities, and he had no idea which guess might be more reliable than another. Having just been beaten, his scalp itched and ached at once.

He shook his head about, running through several hypotheses. With Qu Longjun’s intelligence, she could, of course, sense some element of evasion in his words, but she had already resolved to entrust her whole life to this man; understanding the pure and good nature beneath it all, she did not press him further over some vague uncertainty.

This suddenly appearing figure was, in itself, like some vast and complex riddle…

It was already midday, and the two of them continued on. Once they reached a stretch of market street with few passersby, Qu Longjun finally changed the subject, asking in a low voice about everything Ning Ji had done and seen that day. Setting aside the sudden appearance of Cheng Fang, this was, after all, the true matter at hand.

Ning Ji’s martial skill was formidable, and in Qu Longjun’s memory, aside from that time they were reunited in Jiangning, this was the first time she had seen him beaten into such a state. Clearly, facing Chen Shuangran today had been anything but easy.

The other woman was a cruel and calculating one, and Qu Longjun gritted her teeth, secretly clenching her fist, telling herself in her heart that, given the chance, she would have to avenge Little Long for this.

Meanwhile, Ning Ji’s expression grew serious. After a moment, he swung his fist through the air, gnashing his teeth. But unexpectedly, the first person he cursed was not the scheming little wretch of a demoness stirring up trouble in the shadows of Fuzhou, as one might have expected.

“That damned bastard… those mongrel pups of the Zuo family, biting the hand that feeds them, ungrateful traitors, spineless, treacherous scum—this whole affair is their fault—”

He was so worked up that curses spilled from his mouth without end.