The fifth day of the sixth month, the hour of Shen.

As the sunlight gradually shifted from blazing to warm, You Hongzhuo, bow slung across his back, was racing and fighting his way through the wild woods.

Unlike the firearms he had seen back in the Southwest, the muskets carried by the Gong Chen Guard lacked accuracy at medium-to-long range — at true distance, a skilled archer could actually outmatch them. What made these soldiers truly threatening was, first, their coordinated formation tactics, and second, their use of explosives and similar devices. An ordinary martial artist charging in head-on would become a lamb to the slaughter before them; but if the attackers spread out, an average fighter from the martial world would still find it nearly impossible to gain any advantage alone.

And even a more skilled fighter, one who might dare to take the risk, would find that a concentrated volley of gunfire at close range would be almost impossible to dodge — only a grandmaster-level expert, fully focused, might have any chance at all.

These Gong Chen Guard soldiers weren’t top-tier masters of the martial world, but they were certainly sharp, capable soldiers — seemingly unstoppable, yet in truth conservative in their tactics, relying on mutual support and tight cohesion. The knights-errant and scouts of Jin territory who first encountered them suffered heavy losses; the more boldly and aggressively they charged in, the worse they fared against this enemy.

But in truth, this was merely the conservative, entry-level version of the Southwest’s special-operations tactics.

Once You Hongzhuo arrived at the battlefield, after a brief period of observation, he instructed his fighters to shoot arrows from a distance or throw hidden weapons at medium range, then retreat immediately after each strike — harassing and drawing the enemy out rather than engaging directly. The rest of his men were to rapidly fan out and search for the Female Chancellor’s whereabouts. This approach brought the fighting near the battlefield to something close to a stalemate against the Gong Chen Guard, with losses kept low on both sides, leaving both parties equally frustrated.

But Jin territory was their home ground, and time inevitably favored them the longer things dragged on. Still, as the afternoon wore on with no sign of the Female Chancellor, and with it now the third day since the attack on the night of the second, unease gripped all of Weisheng — everything felt maddeningly uncertain.

Looking back, it seemed every crisis in Jin territory always struck without warning. It felt like only yesterday that Young Ming King Chen Fangda had marched west with such bold confidence — and now, in the blink of an eye, Jin territory once again faced utter catastrophe…

…

Weisheng, the Azure Palace.

Within the palace halls, the mutual accusations and shouting matches continued unabated. Many present had already turned over the terms brought by Zou Xu’s envoy again and again in their minds, when more news arrived.

“General Yu was ambushed on his way back north…” Within the hall, the confusion of opinions grew even more chaotic. Someone proposed, “A matter of this magnitude cannot go without a guiding hand — we should ask Madam Jin to step forward and take charge.” When Shao Qingshi rebuked this, several minor officials stepped forward to accuse the Right Chancellor of being spineless and indecisive. Then, from behind the curtain, Madam Jin spoke, ordering the guards to seize these officials.

It appeared she was defending Shao Qingshi, but in truth, she was subtly maneuvering the power of decision toward herself. Shao Qingshi’s expression flickered, but he still had to cup his hands and offer thanks.

More news continued pouring in.

“There’s unrest in the eastern district — word is that the East Gate commander, Yu Shen, is colluding with Zou Xu, exchanging envoys to negotiate the terms of surrender. A great many wandering fighters have already headed that way…”

“In the west, someone shot arrows at Niu Wenzhong’s residence, denouncing him for selling out Weisheng…”

“Arrest them!” Shao Qingshi ordered. “Send men from the Weisheng prefecture — anyone acting recklessly, arrest them all!”

“This one thinks…” the voice came from behind the curtain, “that a thorough interrogation is needed, to sort truth from rumor properly. And if Yu Shen truly has colluded with Zou Xu, the city is in grave danger — perhaps someone should be sent to question him as well…”

…

In the streets of the city, hot-blooded warriors were tying cloth bands around their foreheads — an idea someone in the crowd had proposed. Zou Xu, they said, was a disciple of the Southwest’s demonic cults, and if he attacked with the aid of heavenly soldiers and divine arts, Weisheng would be hard-pressed to withstand him — everyone needed to prepare to help defend the walls.

After all, Weisheng belonged to everyone — how could anyone hold back from doing their part?

…

Within the city, another column of smoke began rising. Someone had set fire to a house.

Just a single column of smoke was enough to draw the attention of nearly half the city.

Far off, on the hillside northeast of the city, Zou Xu took a sip of his tea, watching the thin column of smoke rise, and smiled.

He handed the teacup to one of Ma Ling’s officers standing beside him and pointed toward the distance.

“Look. That one’s mine.”

The officer’s eyes shone with admiration and fervor. “General Zou’s schemes never fail — this humble soldier is in awe.”

The city’s fall was not far off now.

Sometime before midnight, most likely, a new banner would be raised here.

…

Few knew that, on the southwest side of the city, at the old Dingyuan Gate, the drawbridge had already slowly been lowered.

…

That figure walked slowly across the drawbridge.

Not far behind and to the side, an assassin who had revealed himself was now surrounded by common folk, brandishing his blade and shouting fiercely near the bridge. He was a trained martial artist, an elite soldier as well — his muscles corded and powerful, capable of taking a man’s head with a single swing of his blade, of shattering bone with a single punch. Amid his frenzied swings, the crowd encircled him, hurling stones, ropes, and whatever else came to hand. He tried to make a break for the moat, but a hoe swung at him, burying itself directly in his back. He swung his blade again, and another hoe strike followed; someone swung a club and struck him hard on the head. He turned with a savage glare — and in the next instant, a kitchen cleaver came down, splitting his eye open.

The crowd surged forward and tore him apart, limb from limb.

Lou Shuwan didn’t even glance back.

She walked slowly across the drawbridge. Beyond the open gate stood soldiers on guard, and farther off, crowds of common folk who seemed to be trying to leave the city. People stared at her at first, stunned, and then, just as outside the walls, some wept, some fell to their knees, and the crowd parted of its own accord, clearing a path for her.

Lou Shuwan walked forward, stopping before a stall near the gate that hadn’t been packed up in time. She drew a piece of silver from her robe and set it down, then picked up a hair tie from the stall. With both hands, slowly and with great difficulty, she gathered her hair and tied it back. Blood marked the corner of her eye, scrapes covered her face, and her lip was faintly swollen — but in this moment, no one cared about any of that.

The garrison commander Hu Changshu was hurrying down the stairs from the wall. Lou Shuwan walked over to a shop by the roadside, its shutters half-drawn, where people were already kneeling around her. She called out toward the shop.

“Brother, might I trouble you for a drink of water — I’m terribly thirsty.”

The person inside scrambled trembling toward the back room, and moments later emerged carrying a ladle of water, kneeling at the shop’s threshold and raising the ladle up. “Chan-, Chancellor Lou.”

“Thank you.”

Lou Shuwan took the ladle with both hands, tilted her head back, and drank in great gulps, water droplets falling from her lips onto her tattered, filthy robe.

Hu Changshu rushed up close. He’d originally brought a horse, but upon seeing the state Lou Shuwan was in, he waved urgently behind him. “Get a cart! Find a cart!”

Lou Shuwan raised a hand, waving it slightly, and walked slowly toward the crowd by the roadside, where an ox cart loaded with various household belongings stood — clearly its owner, sensing trouble in Weisheng, had packed up their valuables to flee the city. Lou Shuwan approached and spoke to the cart’s owner. “Old sir, might you give me a ride?”

“Yes, yes, of course!” the old man said, rising at once to throw all his belongings off the cart, but Lou Shuwan shook her head. “Don’t throw anything off. Just let me lean against it.” She sat down on the cart’s shaft, leaning back against the boxes and bundles behind her. “If you would be so kind, old sir, to drive for me.”

Hu Changshu stood nearby, looking around, his eyes reddening. He called out to those around him, “Escort Chancellor Lou back to the palace!”

“Not to the palace.” Lou Shuwan looked at him. “Where is Zou Xu?”

“Zou Xu… has made camp at Wangque Mountain, outside the city.”

“Good.”

Lou Shuwan smiled.

“Then let’s go to the East Gate.”

Hu Changshu, receiving the order, moved to lead the party forward, but Lou Shuwan looked at him quietly. “Hu Changshu — teach your men to guard their own gate well… Bring a few messengers and follow along.”

…

Along the long street, the old man turned the ox cart and slowly moved forward. Ahead, the gathered crowds parted of their own accord — perhaps because those in front had knelt, everyone along the way knelt as well. Over the past two days, the talk of the city had centered entirely on the consequences of the Female Chancellor’s death, and so her return moved nearly every soul in the city.

The cart moved forward a short way before Lou Shuwan, frowning, called out into the crowd. “Is there a physician here? Please, help bandage this — my hand hurts terribly.”

A physician was brought onto the cart to tend to her nearly severed fingers.

Hu Changshu walked alongside the cart, reporting all manner of news from within the city to the Female Chancellor. Lou Shuwan leaned back, eyes narrowed, listening quietly.

The ox cart passed through the long street, crossed a stone bridge ahead, and she spoke, eyes still narrowed, her voice slow and measured.

“Send word to the Ministry of War — announce that I have returned. The gate commanders of Weisheng are to remain in their posts and hold their positions firmly. Anyone found derelict in duty is to be executed.”

“Send word to the Weisheng prefecture office — all constables are to take to the streets and put a stop to the unrest everywhere. Tell them, too, that I have returned. Order every district to report and investigate anyone acting recklessly within the city, and arrest them the moment they’re found…”

“Order Xu Weishi and Yang Fa to take stock of all available troops. In one hour, I will face Zou Xu in decisive battle — have them prepare rations and ready themselves for a long march.”

“Also, have the Ministry of War send word at once to Wu Su and Zhang Xiang — the moment they receive the order, they are to muster troops and march south immediately, to seal off every crossing point south along the Yellow River.”

“Have the Ministry of War send word at once to Guo Xing and Bai Hanwei — upon receiving the order, they are to march out immediately and reinforce the defensive lines around Fenzhou and Yuci. Ma Ling’s forces are not to be allowed to advance north. Should the line be broken, they are to be dealt with under military law.”

“Order the Ministry of War to send word at once to Chen Chang’s naval forces — secure the waterways and every crossing point upstream from Hezhong Prefecture. Should Zou Xu’s forces manage to pass through their line of defense, they are to be dealt with under military law.”

The ox cart creaked slowly forward, Lou Shuwan issuing one order after another, her eyes narrowed, her voice slow yet steady. Hu Changshu walked alongside, carefully recording each order, only occasionally speaking up to remind her: “Bai Hanwei… serves under Niu Wenzhong…”

Lou Shuwan, leaning back, said, “He’ll follow orders.”

“Understood.”

The ox cart turned down two more streets, and the strange, swelling news that “the Female Chancellor has returned” was already spreading outward across the far reaches of Weisheng. At one point, a stir rose again in the crowd — an assassin carrying a bundle of explosives tried to approach, but was spotted halfway there, and a scuffle broke out once more as the impassioned crowd pinned the reckless assassin to the ground, shattering every bone in his body.

Lou Shuwan sat quietly on the ox cart, her eyes fixed on the eaves and wooden buildings lining the road — most of them newly built, with only a scattering of older structures still bearing scorch marks from fire. She watched all of this, familiar and yet strange, in silence. Wherever she passed, countless people knelt, countless voices praised her name. Her orders were carried off by the messengers, until, at one point, Hu Changshu reminded her, “The Azure Palace… has not yet been dealt with.”

Lou Shuwan closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. After a long moment, she finally let out a soft sigh.

“Send word to them. Just… let them… handle it themselves.”