The setting sun hung vast and hollow, falling toward the mountains and the city by the sea.

While Pu Xingui, outside the city, was busy demonstrating his magnanimity to Chen Shuangran, Ning Ji had failed to pick up the trail of Tunyun and Fan Zhong.

At Tongli Hall, Li Pin, having composed himself after watching over the arrangement of his wife’s remains, had a carriage prepared to go pay his respects at Zhang Yunya’s household, to mourn with the widow. On the city streets, captured rebels were being escorted by constables through the bustling crowds.

At the palace, the ceremonial officer in charge of the consort-taking rites came to confirm the procedures and etiquette for the day after tomorrow; the emperor paid it little mind, only summoning the officials of the Imperial City Guard again to confirm the security arrangements.

Having sold himself out originally for money — and with Lin’an having fallen, the Beikui Army already dispatched, and having used spots at the Military Academy to properly bind together the various families offering up brides — the ceremony taking in three new consorts had become a matter of little consequence. As long as things went smoothly, the money already collected would be safely in hand; after that, it was simply his own private business, when to give up his good looks in return.

Given that these three spots had been “sold,” he had no great expectations of the women’s looks either — he figured he’d just have to treat them all fairly in the future, sacrificing himself for the good of the state.

And besides, if things got difficult with state affairs down the line and he was working himself to the bone every day, he wouldn’t even need to sacrifice himself that way — several women left alone in their chambers, sharing hardship together, would do just fine. Thinking about it, he really did consider himself quite a bad emperor.

The drill ground in the evening sun was windless; the spacious areas within the palace all felt stifling. Though the Astronomical Bureau insisted the weather on the tenth, the day of the consort-taking, would be fine, just looking at the arrangement of troops along the city walls made clear to the emperor that everyone, inside and outside the city, was already holding their breath. Everyone suspected that Chen Shuangran and those behind her would choose this moment to strike, and the Ministry of Justice and every other department would face a real test.

“I think, actually, the villains probably won’t act on the tenth itself,” the emperor said idly to the chief eunuch, taking a break. “Everyone’s expecting that day, why would they go looking for trouble exactly then?”

“Indeed…” the chief eunuch agreed. “But they will act eventually, Your Majesty.”

“That’s true too.” the emperor nodded. “Better to stay alert regardless…”

He couldn’t very well go to the Princess Imperial’s residence to play every single day, and so, waiting for reports from below on the day’s major incidents within the city, he soon received news that Tongli Hall had been attacked, and that Li Pin’s wife had been confirmed dead.

Beneath the vast sky, ten thousand ants, killing each other like dust.

Under the last light of the setting sun, Ning Ji returned to the Princess Imperial’s residence. He bathed, cleaned the blood from under his fingernails, and was organizing his array of weapons — firearm, ammunition, blades long and short — when Qu Longjun came in. The Princess Imperial wasn’t home at the moment.

“…She took the little princess to Tongli Hall,” Qu Longjun said, recounting the day’s events.

“I was there this morning, I heard people died inside — Fan Zhong and Tunyun struck together.” Ning Ji crouched by the table sharpening a blade, his eyes focused. “But Li Pin didn’t die.”

“But his wife passed away… the Princess told me about Li Pin and his wife, and about a Daoist nun named Luo Shouwei, who’s also fond of Li Pin… this Master Li hasn’t had it easy these years either…”

By now, lamps had been lit throughout the various courtyards of the Princess Imperial’s residence. In the warm yellow light, Qu Longjun rambled on, helping Ning Ji clean his weapons as she filled him in on all this. To them, still young, hearing about the affairs of their elders felt more like listening to a series of stories. When Qu Longjun finished, Ning Ji told her about killing “Sea-Crossing Serpent” that morning, whose name, unfortunately, hadn’t proven very lucky. The two of them laughed over it and traded jabs for a while.

“Afterward I thought, it must be because I killed Sea-Crossing Serpent that good things didn’t come in pairs today — that makes a lot of sense too.” Ning Ji said, grunting as he cleaned his weapons.

Yue Yinping was keeping watch in the next courtyard over; perhaps because of what had happened to Li Pin’s family, her mood seemed rather low. Yue Yun waited until deep in the night before returning, storming in to ask Ning Ji whether he’d caught any big fish. Ning Ji only said, “There’ll be one eventually.”

“So that means no! Useless! What good are you!”

“What about you, then!” Ning Ji shot back.

“I’m useless too, so what!”

“Then you’re really something!”

The two traded a few more insults, but didn’t come to blows this time. Just as Yue Yun was about to leave, Ning Ji suddenly remembered something.

“Speaking of which, tomorrow’s a big day, you know that, Yue Yun?”

“…What?”

“Tomorrow is the ninth of the sixth month — it’s Zhou Zhe’s death anniversary… don’t you people celebrate that over here?”

“Damn it…”

Yue Yun stalked off, his face dark. Of course he didn’t like Zhou Zhe, but he could hardly join in cursing him either, and couldn’t even comment on the matter. Ambushed point-blank by this shameless rebel, his expression looked as though he’d eaten something foul, and behind him he could hear the other man cackling with delight.

“Go ahead and guess how he died… hahahahahaha—”

The lights flickered through the night. After a while, Zhou Pei, having returned from paying respects at Tongli Hall, heard from Zhao Xiaosong about the exchange between the two boys, and her face turned dark too.

“How… how can he never behave with any dignity?”

Zhao Xiaosong, blunt and hot-tempered by nature, said, “This servant thinks… he ought to be locked up! He… he’s gone too far!”

Zhou Pei gave her a sideways glance, unsure how to explain, and after rubbing her forehead, finally said, “Never mind it.”

Outside the city, a carriage moved through streets lit by lanterns, passing through many places. Chen Shuangran told Pu Xingui about her arrangements outside the city, her many plans, and then went to Elder Yao’s territory to have him serve as witness to their reconciliation. By now it was already past midnight; Pu Xingui, having gone two nights without sleep, still looked full of energy.

Along the way, she also said, “Today is the ninth of the sixth month, the day Emperor Jinghan was murdered. That we, brother and sister, should join forces today is surely an omen that we’re about to accomplish something great.”

Afterward the two parted ways, each going to arrange the next day’s actions once dawn broke.

With no one else around, Qian Dingzhong found Pu Xingui. “Did you really settle things with her? If that woman goes back on her word…”

“In the underworld, no one keeps their word forever.” Pu Xingui frowned. “That little dark-skinned lady has an extreme temperament, reckless with consequences. After harming so many lives, she’s actually pushed Elder Yao and the others to their limit. For the greater good, these past few days Elder Yao and the others had no choice but to tolerate her actions. Now, though I seem reckless myself, I’ve actually forced her back into line. That I’m able to work with her pleases Elder Yao and the others — everyone else knows now that I’m the one who considers the bigger picture… The situation is in my hands now. If she acts up again, she’ll have no way to win people over in the future.”

Qian Dingzhong thought about it, then said, “…That Young Master Pu can set aside old grudges like this is truly admirable.”

“If I’m honest, I didn’t want to either.” Pu Xingui patted his shoulder. “But the night before last, I thought long and hard — to accomplish something great, there has to be someone who can see the bigger picture. Given the state of things in Fujian, neither of us has it easy, but the court’s position is weak to the extreme too. If Little Hei-Pi and I fight each other, we both lose; if we join forces, we both benefit. If we can truly succeed, and bring down this Wu Dynasty, Brother Qian… you and I will both be figures remembered in the annals of history…”

Hearing this, Qian Dingzhong was finally won over completely, and on the spot pledged his loyalty. The two then continued planning and arranging matters going forward.

“…Of course, once the action begins, we can’t drop our guard against Little Hei-Pi either. We’ll need to arrange things accordingly… prepare early…”

Through the night, points of light drifted and flickered, until the morning sun in the east spread out, covering over every last trace of the dark.

The ninth of the sixth month, daytime arrived.

…

This was a special day.

In the history of the Wu Dynasty, the weight of this day would necessarily have been intense and heavy — in some sense, it wasn’t wrong to call it a day of national calamity. But given the attitude of the improper new emperor, the court had no way to discuss it too formally. Celebrating it, of course, was out of the question; commemorating it, or denouncing it, the emperor would inevitably oppose as well.

In short, with the court’s decorum already lost, those who truly cared about propriety had no choice but to tacitly agree not to bring it up at all.

They simply canceled the morning court session for the day.

That morning, he received a number of officials, but the busy work wound down by mid-morning. The emperor wanted to summon Cheng Zhouhai to ask whether anything important was expected today, but Cheng Zhouhai wasn’t anywhere near the palace at the moment — presumably nothing requiring his attention — so the emperor didn’t bother waiting, and gathered his carriage procession to go to the Princess Imperial’s residence to see his daughter, and while there, check in on how things stood with Li Pin.

Arriving there, he failed to find his hoped-for little junior brother, who had already gone out early that morning. Wanting to see his lovely junior sister-in-law-to-be instead, he received rather strange news: half an hour earlier, Cheng Zhouhai had taken Qu Longjun out, bringing Yue Yun along as a bodyguard.

“Wasn’t she supposed to stay in the Princess’s residence for safety these past few days?” Junwu asked, puzzled.

“She’ll be his future helpmate — I’ve been teaching her a few things these past two days, she’s very sharp, and I imagine Master Cheng thought the same.” Zhou Pei explained it this way, though in fact Cheng Zhouhai hadn’t consulted her on the matter at all. In theory, the suggestion that Qu Longjun stay in the Princess’s residence had come from Ning Ji himself, and Zhou Pei had agreed. But Cheng Zhouhai, who had originally taken Qu Longjun in, hadn’t voiced any opinion on it. “Out there she’s always presented herself as a man. Now that she’s dressed as a woman, Master Cheng probably doesn’t think it’s much of an issue.”

“This Cheng Zhouhai…” Junwu thought about it, his expression turning serious. “He doesn’t follow the proper conventions in what he does. Sister, whatever your intentions in teaching Little Qu, they might be kind ones, but if he… if he’s handing her the methods of the secret investigation bureau… good grief, is he hoping to send Little Qu into the Ning family, to compete in the future with Ning Xi and the Master’s eldest daughter-in-law, Min Chuyi?”

“It seems…” Zhou Pei narrowed her eyes, thinking it over for a while. “…that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing?”

“What do you mean not a bad thing! In an imperial household, getting caught up in something like that, can it ever end well? Cheng Zhouhai’s trying to set brother against brother—”

“What imperial household is he part of! Watch your language—” Zhou Pei’s gaze turned cold, and she raised her voice.

“Hm…” Junwu pressed his lips together, then after a moment: “You’re cursing at the emperor, where did you learn that from…”

“…I think it’s actually great! When she gets back, I’ll teach her even more!”

“Fine, I hereby obey your imperial decree. I’ll shut my mouth. Damn it, that old Master Cheng really is vicious…”

Junwu rambled on, muttering for a while, then, after a moment, saw his daughter come running over waving a little hoe, before starting to dig at the soil in the garden with babbling sounds. The hoe was a sharp implement, so Zhao Xiaosong could only hover nearby like a mother hen.

“My daughter can already do farm work… Zhao Xiaosong, step back a little, let her do it herself!” Junwu, moved to tears, felt that back in the palace, Zhou Fuyang had only ever done girlish, dainty things, like licking lollipops or giving people flowers — now she finally seemed to have some connection to simple, wholesome things.

Zhou Pei couldn’t understand what he was getting so worked up about, and frowned. “These past couple of days with that group of kids, she’s picked up bad habits. Of the four of them, only Qu Longjun is any good — Zhou Fuyang, what are you babbling about?”

“I’m singing a song, duck—”

Zhou Fuyang wobbled over, waving her hoe, and Zhao Xiaosong, worried she might accidentally commit regicide, hurried over to take the hoe from her, wrestling it away after a few tries.

“What song is it? I’ve never heard it before…”

Zhou Fuyang sang it once. Zhou Pei frowned. “What ‘nine heavens’… ‘loofah’? What…”

Zhou Fuyang sang it again, and again… Zhou Pei and Junwu gradually began to make it out, and beside them, Zhao Xiaosong understood too, and dropped to her knees with a thud.

What Zhou Fuyang was singing was “Today is a good day~~”

Zhou Pei’s expression turned grave, and she said nothing more. Junwu’s mouth puckered, his face scrunching up like a steamed bun. Zhao Xiaosong looked ready to cry. “It… it was this morning, that Sun — Sun Wukong taught the little princess to sing it… this servant… this servant didn’t understand it either, at first…”

“None of your business, off you go.” Junwu twisted his mouth, waving a hand to send her off, then stood in the courtyard with his hands behind his back, staring up at the sky.

“How…” After a long while, Zhou Pei finally rubbed her forehead. “How… can he never behave with any dignity!?”

“That’s a duck, that’s a duck.” Junwu nodded repeatedly beside her. “It’s too much, look at what he’s done, even I, the emperor, can’t stand for this, this is really… too much!”

Secretly, he gave his daughter a thumbs up, then nodded once and raised his voice in mock outrage.

“—Absolutely too much!”

…

As the hour of Chen drew to a close, outside Fuzhou city, in the half-abandoned village of Yinan, figures from every walk of life were gradually gathering.

Yu Hezhang, the local kingpin of Pucheng, arrived, bringing his men with him, including the burly “Mountain-Pushing Blade” Meng Biao. Coming here, he encountered no small number of once-legendary underworld figures — many of them men who could be called upon by Pu Xingui, as well as underworld heroes rumored to have been rescued over the past several days, such as Nian Tong, and the supposedly fearless Yu Tiedan.

Surprisingly, some other unexpected figures had shown up nearby as well — he was startled to spot Chen Yan, the steward serving under Chen Shuangran, meeting with Qian Dingzhong, discussing something in careful detail. The crowd began murmuring; the well-connected Yu Hezhang, comparing notes with those around him, began to piece together some sense of what was happening.

“This is good news… what future is there in fighting among ourselves…”

Looking around carefully, both sides had already brought out several dozen men each, all seasoned figures of the underworld — he had no idea what grand gathering was about to unfold today.

After a while, Yu Hezhang saw the grandmaster-level figure Master Tunyun riding away from the village on horseback. Seeing him off was a tall, imposing figure — clearly the grandmaster who had only just made his name known, Mr. Jin, “Golden-Eyed Thousand Feathers,” once the foremost chief constable of the underworld. Around him were four or five top-tier martial artists of the underworld world as well.

Yu Hezhang’s heart raced with excitement. After thinking it over for a while, Qian Dingzhong called him and a few other higher-ranking leaders over, and began arranging further matters with them, while on the other side, several underworld heroes including Nian Tong were called into a small room — for reasons unclear, a small dispute and argument broke out inside.

“Do you think Pu Xingui can keep that fellow Nian and the others in check?”

Farther off, on the second floor of a room, Chen Shuangran, having just seen off Tunyun and returning with Fan Zhong, stood by the window watching the faint argument drifting from that direction, and posed the question.

Fan Zhong smiled. “Honestly, having come this far, I really do think this Young Master Pu is quite the figure. He understands the bigger picture, Miss Chen… you might really consider allying with him.”

“He’ll help me get things done regardless.” Chen Shuangran said.

After a while, she added, “How are things arranged outside?”

“Scouts have already been sent out seven li in every direction, and private watchers are in place as well. If that fellow surnamed Sun really is a plant arranged by the court… and if there’s also a mole from the court on our side, or on Pu Xingui’s side… they’re bound to give themselves away today.”

“What does Lord Fan think — will it be Tie Tianying who oversees this on the court’s side, or Cheng Zhouhai?”

“Whoever it is.” Fan Zhong’s gaze turned toward the distant walls of Fuzhou. “I’m eager to see how he plans to break this deadlock.”

Under the burning sun, heat rippled off the ground. More than ten li from Yinan Village, atop the walls of Fuzhou, a slender man in a long scholar’s robe held a telescope, gazing out over the eastern fields and villages.

Yue Yun took out a spyglass of his own, looking around too. When he stopped, he found Cheng Zhouhai gazing at him coldly.

“Uh… I’m just looking around, uh… Master Cheng, what exactly are we doing here today?”

Cheng Zhouhai didn’t answer. He turned his head, his gaze shifting toward a room within the city wall tower — inside, Qu Longjun was bent over a great stack of intelligence reports.

Cheng Zhouhai walked in.

“…Found anything?”

Qu Longjun looked up, glanced toward Yue Yun outside, who had his ears pricked up, and Cheng Zhouhai reached back and shut the door. Qu Longjun pulled out a stack of documents.

“Two years ago, Lord Cheng had already planted people among the rebels…”

Cheng Zhouhai smiled and took the documents from her.

“You have indeed picked up on something… This is the method Ning Yi used in the northwest, in fact — even earlier, back when he first started laying groundwork in Bianliang. Knowing he’d inevitably face heavy opposition no matter what, he decided from the start to plant informants and moles wherever he suppressed a rebellion — sweep out ninety percent of a major rebel group in one go, and for the remaining ten percent, let them grow a while before sweeping them out too. In the end, no one dares band together anymore.”

“Then why… did things turn out this way this time…”

“Because Chen Shuangran — or perhaps it’s Fan Zhong beside her, I don’t know where this devil came from — has been extremely troublesome, managing to sidestep nearly every arrangement we’d set up… She’s essentially abandoned the network we’d carefully laid out for her from the start…” Cheng Zhouhai paused a moment. “But that’s not the question you should be asking.”

“What’s the right question… and also, what does any of this have to do with me…”

“What does it have to do with you…” A complicated smile crossed Cheng Zhouhai’s face. “See, that’s the right question.”

Qu Longjun’s face suddenly changed. She had nothing to do with Fuzhou — the only thing that could connect her to any of this… She nearly bent her head back down to the documents, crying out even as she spoke, “Master Cheng, don’t joke around, you know his identity, what exactly are you trying to do, just say it plainly, don’t scare a poor girl like this—”

“I know his identity…” Cheng Zhouhai’s voice grew low. “So there are certain decisions even I find hard to make. You go find the answer. You be the one to decide—”

He tapped his fingers on the desk. “If you can’t find it, then there’s nothing to decide.” With that, the door opened, and Cheng Zhouhai strode out, his back resolute.

Qu Longjun glanced toward the door, then, lowering her eyes, began rapidly searching through the papers.

Outside, Yue Yun blinked his eyes into something resembling a raccoon’s.

Cheng Zhouhai stood there again, gazing into the distance.

At that same moment, all manner of processions were streaming out of the city below him…

…

The heat scorched, the cicadas droned tediously.

At Yinan Village, past the hour of Si, someone came hurrying in from outside, entered the village, went upstairs, and found Chen Shuangran, delivering some news to her. It was unexpected news; her eyes lit up at once. She then summoned Fan Zhong, who was busy making arrangements in the courtyard below, and quietly passed the message on to him.

“…At last, we’ve found reliable word on where that Long Aotian is.”

Fan Zhong thought it over briefly. “Send someone to catch up with the Master, have him confirm it.”

“That’s exactly what I intend.” Chen Shuangran gave the order, then asked, “How are things arranged below?”

“This is a small matter, I’ll handle it myself — over seventy men here, there’s no chance of failure.” Fan Zhong shook his head. “What matters is the reaction from outside — as long as we can clearly see whether anyone in this crowd makes a rash move, the actions after that can proceed with more confidence. Actually, Miss, you needn’t watch over things here in person. With the bigger business at hand, you should go into the city and put on the proper appearance.”

“I want to see that man beg for mercy…” Chen Shuangran laughed. “Best not to kill him outright — break his arms and legs first, we’ll see from there. If we can get information out of him, all the better.”

“If we’re trying to draw out a possible mole, slow torture is indeed the way to do it, if we can manage it slowly. It’s just that if the scouts farther out spot government troops, we’ll need to retreat quickly — there’s already a contingency plan for that, but Miss should keep it in mind.”

Past midday, an unremarkable-looking group arrived at the village entrance.

Pu Xingui and Qian Dingzhong, bringing along several underlings, went out to receive them.

“It wasn’t easy finding this lead this time… we’ve confirmed it, that little dark-skinned girl and several key figures behind her will meet this evening in the woods behind the village, so I brought my own men… this time, we might just be able to take them all in one sweep…”

The group talked as they walked deeper into the village. Pu Xingui and Qian Dingzhong walked ahead alongside the guest of honor they’d welcomed, passing several familiar underlings along the way — men like Yu Hezhang, like Meng Biao… They made their way into the depths of the abandoned village, into a run-down square and courtyard, with people chatting and laughing softly behind them.

Under the blazing sun, with an occasional breeze stirring the leaves with a soft rustle, at some point Gao Xingzong, among the crowd, abruptly stopped in his tracks.

As they walked, several of the underworld heroes under Pu Xingui’s command, chatting amongst themselves, had somehow managed to separate them from the figure walking ahead.

Looking forward, of the three who had originally been walking abreast, Qian Dingzhong, amid the laughter and chatter, had ended up walking in the middle — this wasn’t an ordinary thing at all, and the moment he realized it, a shadow had already appeared at the edge of his vision.

Even in the summer heat of the sixth month, a chill of dread suddenly welled up in Gao Xingzong’s heart.

That morning, Pu Xingui’s men had told him they’d discovered Chen Shuangran’s whereabouts, and had even asked Gao Xingzong to bring a few disciples along. Only now did he understand — asking “Young Hero Sun” to bring extra men along had been meant to lull the whole group into complacency.

At the edge of his vision, underworld figures whose very names alone could make Gao Xingzong’s blood run cold had already stepped forward, some holding long blades, some long swords, some with faces scarred all over. “Fish King” Gao Xingzong was, in truth, only a local kingpin of Fuzhou’s fish market — in his day, people gave him some face, and in his younger years he’d fought a few tough battles, but standing shoulder to shoulder with figures like these was something he’d rarely even imagined.

Over the past several days, he had met not a few underworld heroes whom he’d long admired from afar, who had even expressed admiration for him — but that, he now realized, had only been out of deference to the young man named Sun Wukong standing up ahead. Gao Xingzong even spotted, among the crowd, the great hero Nian Tong whom he himself had helped rescue — but the man’s eyes flickered away, and he shook his head.

Surrounded on every side, a veritable sea of people, Gao Xingzong knew there was nothing left to do but await slaughter.

He even caught sight, off to one side, of a tall figure holding an iron fan approaching — after days of asking around, the Fish King knew this was the grandmaster whose standing rivaled even Tunyun’s — Golden-Eyed Thousand Feathers.

Standing in the open space ahead, Ning Ji turned his head, surveying it all. Beside him, Qian Dingzhong was smiling at him; Pu Xingui had moved off to one side, saying nothing further, only letting the crowd close in around them. In this moment, all the villains had shown themselves — all except Tunyun. The one called Golden-Eyed Thousand Feathers, Fan Zhong, approached with tremendous confidence, gesturing to those around him as he drew closer, then laughed and began to speak.

The ground scorched under the blazing heat. Ning Ji took a long, deep breath.

He suddenly understood what Zuo Xingzhou must have faced, on that day.

“Today, right here, even if Lin Zongwu himself came, he still couldn’t walk away…”

Far off, atop the building, Chen Shuangran watched the crowd closing in, already turning her thoughts to tomorrow’s arrangements.

Pu Xingui tried to slip away from the crowd, unwilling to watch a scene that would only damage his own standing as a man of honor.

The martial masters had gathered — Yu Hezhang and “Mountain-Pushing Blade” Meng Biao pressed in closer too. They had once flattered and fawned over this young man, gotten along well with him — but ultimately, this same proud, arrogant young man had also looked down on them. What was to come, then, was the moment for this insolent young man to kneel and beg for mercy. Fan Zhong drew nearer, still talking, raising his fan, which snapped open like a steel whip.

Ning Ji’s gaze fixed on him.

Bang—

…

Fan Zhong’s figure suddenly whirled and swayed.

It was the most exquisite, peerless lightness technique — his body first swayed to the left, then, in a whirl, veered violently to the right; the world-renowned iron fan snapped open in midair like a great unfurling umbrella, ringing with a metallic clang, and in the next instant his figure had already appeared several yards away, beside a crumbling wall — this instant of movement was like something out of a ghost story, the culmination of a lifetime’s mastery, the very essence of a grandmaster’s skill.

Just as few people could understand the mastery behind this single moment of his, few could understand why he had needed to move at all.

Ning Ji’s gaze stayed locked on his eyes the entire time.

The long blade swept through the heavens.

Aimed at his neck, it came slashing down—

“Go to hell—”