Liao dogs, insulting the Martial Dynasty by penetrating deep into the Central Plains to commit murder and assassination—as far as anyone in Jiangning could connect the dots, this could only refer to the assassination attempt that had occurred at Bamboo Records’ second branch a few days earlier. For the sake of the branch’s reputation, Ning Yi had spent these past few days, through his connections via Lu A’Gui, stirring up considerable publicity around the affair—practically outright agitation, if he was honest with himself—while quietly keeping track of the whereabouts of the two men who’d escaped. So far there’d been no further news, but judging from what these three were saying, it sounded as though something new had developed the previous night.

He sat there patiently listening for a while. What the three men mostly discussed was how formidable that lead Liao man had been—how fast his blade strikes came, how one ought to dodge them, that sort of thing. Chan’er, catching a few words, whispered to Ning Yi, “Young master, could this be about the same thing that happened to Elder Qin?” Ning Yi gave a slight nod, then walked over to their table. “Gentlemen, if I may.”

The three men, seeing that the newcomer was a bookish, frail-looking scholar, blinked in mild surprise. Ning Yi went on, “I happened to overhear you gentlemen speaking of the Liao affair just now—it sounds related to the assassination attempt from a few days back, of which I too have heard something. I wasn’t aware of what happened last night, though it seems you gentlemen were involved yourselves. As the saying goes, true heroes act for their country and their people, and I’ve always deeply admired men of your caliber. I’d very much like to hear about last night’s events, if you’d be so kind as to enlighten me.”

Having said this much, he added, “Oh, and I’m Ning Liheng—I’ve studied a bit of martial arts myself. In the martial world, I go by the outlaw name Bloody-Handed Butcher. A pleasure to meet you.”

The whole introduction flowed out of him smoothly and naturally, and Chan’er, following behind, was thoroughly impressed—right up until he mentioned the “Bloody-Handed Butcher” part, at which point her expression twitched slightly. The little maid had always assumed this was simply a bit of self-aggrandizing bravado on young master’s part, harmless enough when bragged about at home, something everyone even played along with—but watching him shamelessly trot it out to actually fool real martial-world men left her feeling rather like her composure was about to crack.

The three martial artists reacted similarly. Having first taken Ning Yi’s polite, respectful tone to mean he was some patriotic, hot-blooded young talent, they were momentarily stunned when he casually dropped the “Bloody-Handed Butcher” nickname, exchanging bewildered glances before finally managing to respond with the expected “an honor, an honor” and “likewise, likewise.”

“This one is Xiong Mo.”

“This one is Lin Jinquan.”

“This one is Zhao Xing.”

None of the three bothered offering up any particularly flashy nickname of their own, whether out of concern that pairing themselves with something as ridiculous as “Bloody-Handed Butcher” might lower their standing, who could say.

Aside from the awkwardness of the nickname, Ning Yi otherwise handled himself rather smoothly, ordering the finest and most expensive breakfast set the establishment had to offer and sending Chan’er off to settle the bill, before listening to the three men’s account of what had happened the previous night.

The matter of the Liao assassins in Jiangning had, by now, been quite widely publicized thanks to Ning Yi’s own efforts—which had, on one hand, boosted Jin’er’s shop’s reputation, and on the other, stirred up considerable patriotic fervor among the martial community. These past few days, the authorities had been combing the city for the two escaped Liao assassins, while also posting a reward of nearly a thousand taels of silver, prompting various martial artists to band together—whether for money, fame, or simple patriotic zeal, all eager to capture the pair. Ning Yi was well aware of all this.

Even as the search swept the entire city, the unfortunate nobleman whom the ruthless Jin’er had very nearly perforated below the waist with her hairpin had managed to cling to his life—largely because Jin’er, in truth, hadn’t the stomach to actually kill, and had instinctively pulled back once she’d inflicted about as much damage as she dared.

Quite what sort of holding arrangements Jiangning’s prefectural office had set up remained a mystery, but by the previous night, someone had managed to infiltrate the detention site entirely. This time it wasn’t just the two who’d originally escaped—four men in total had broken in and rescued the nobleman, a brief but violent clash breaking out along the way, one they ultimately couldn’t withstand against these four formidable intruders.

Ning Yi hadn’t known any of this himself, but the martial-world folk who’d been keeping close watch had gotten word of it immediately, rushing out of the city to intercept and cut them down along the road, with government troops cooperating as well. But these Liao men moved with incredible speed and possessed formidable skill; this ragtag band of martial artists and yamen constables couldn’t manage a proper encirclement, chasing them through the forests and hills around Jiangning, several skirmishes of varying scale breaking out along the way. In the end, only one of the fleeing men was brought down, while the other three managed to escape with the half-dead nobleman in tow.

That such a thing could happen right here in Jiangning’s own backyard left even Ning Yi somewhat taken aback. But according to these three, the most formidable fighter among the escapees hadn’t been the tall, thin one, nor the burly man with the bandaged half-face who seemed to have lost an eye—there’d been another among them, whose skill was genuinely terrifying. This man had a solid, dark-skinned build, his entire body and face covered in scars, looking for all the world like some ferocious demon god—it was largely because this man had carved out a bloody path through their ranks that the others had managed to escape at all. Granted, the skills of the thin man and the one-eyed brute were nothing to scoff at either; from the moment of contact, it had been clear these were likely among the most elite soldiers the Liao had, survivors of real battlefield combat.

“I’ve trained in martial arts my whole life and thought I’d developed some real skill, but that scarred man—even thinking about him now sends chills down my spine. Last night he brought his blade down on me, and even blocking with everything I had, I was still knocked several meters back. My right shoulder’s torn clean out of its socket—probably won’t be able to lift anything with it for a good while yet. My back slammed into something too; still aching now. If they hadn’t been in such a hurry to flee, one more strike from him and I’d have left my life there on the spot.”

So said the wounded Zhao Xing. Xiong Mo, considering this, added, “That man’s probably trained in some genuine advanced internal cultivation technique.” Zhao Jinquan nodded in agreement as well. Ning Yi chimed in with his own agreement: “Regardless, your acts of chivalry, gentlemen, are truly admirable.”

From this exchange, Ning Yi came to a rough understanding of the whole affair. It turned out that, beyond the five who’d carried out the rescue, there were apparently two more skilled fighters who hadn’t taken part. More troubling still was the fact that these outsiders had managed to infiltrate the nobleman’s detention site in the first place—suggesting the force behind them was likely far greater than just this. These three men, he judged, probably didn’t count as truly formidable figures in the martial world themselves—by Lu Hongti’s standards, likely little more than ordinary underlings—yet that scarred black demon-god they described had to be a genuinely top-tier fighter; striking down a martial artist so thoroughly with a single blade could only be the work of truly advanced internal power. He couldn’t help wondering how such a man would measure up against Lu Hongti.

Various questions swirled in his mind. Once the three martial-world men had left, he had Chan’er catch up to them and present some food boxes and silver notes as a gift. Though the saying went that scholars were poor while martial men were rich, in truth those who actually lived by the blade on the edges of the martial world likely didn’t fare especially well. Now that circumstances had briefly aligned their interests, Ning Yi was glad enough to offer what modest help he could. Chan’er, ever tactful, spent a good while persuading the three men before they finally accepted the gifts.

That afternoon, once classes let out, Ning Yi planned to go find Lu A’Gui to ask about the previous night’s events. He wasn’t particularly driven by patriotic fervor—it was simply that he himself had been the one to thwart the assassination attempt on Elder Qin, and even though the odds of retaliation seemed slim, having gotten entangled in the matter at all, it was best to learn what he could. But that afternoon, when he went to the Prince Consort’s estate, Lu A’Gui happened to be out, and Kang Xian wasn’t in either, so he had no choice but to turn back and try again in a few days—the matter wasn’t especially urgent anyway.

Walking back through a few streets toward the Su residence, he failed to notice a figure trailing some distance behind him—Chen Feng, a chief constable of the Jiangning prefectural office, who glanced back uncertainly toward the direction of the Prince Consort’s estate before continuing to follow.

Two streets further on, Chen Feng, still tailing him, suddenly sensed himself being watched in turn. Before he could fully react, a hand clapped down abruptly on his shoulder. Chen Feng spun and blocked with a sweep of his arm; the two exchanged a brief flurry of moves at the street corner before both paused, looked closely, and relaxed—the two men knew each other after all.

The man who’d caught Chen Feng on the street was none other than Lu A’Gui, now a steward at the Prince Consort’s estate. Ning Yi had just come from there, and Lu A’Gui had been heading back that way himself; spotting Ning Yi in passing, he’d meant to call out a greeting, only to notice the tail trailing behind him—and recognizing that tail as someone he knew, he’d abandoned the idea of greeting Ning Yi and cut the tail off instead.

“Constable Chen, you seem to have a lot of free time lately. Instead of chasing down truly vicious criminals, you’ve taken up this little tailing game. As far as I know, that young gentleman up ahead is a perfectly law-abiding citizen—just a few days ago he even helped foil a Liao assassination attempt. What exactly has he done wrong?”

Chen Feng frowned. “Whether he’s done anything wrong is for the yamen to decide, not you or me. I’m aware he has some connection to your people, Lu A’Gui—are you looking to get involved?”

“Wouldn’t call it getting involved. It’s just that His Excellency and this young man are close friends, and I’d like to know what sort of trouble he’s caught up in.”

“…After all this time, you really have become that Prince Consort’s lapdog, haven’t you…”

“His Excellency saved my life once—I owe him my loyalty unto death. You used to say it wasn’t worth serving a Prince Consort with no real accomplishments to his name, but you can hardly say that anymore. This young Master Ning is no simple man. The favor he’s recently done for the common people is beyond anything you could imagine, and he just recently saved Qin Siyuan’s life too. If he’s in some kind of trouble, there are people who will fight to protect him with everything they have. And I can vouch for him—he’s a good man. So, how about it—want to find somewhere nearby to talk it over? See if the Prince Consort’s estate can take this off your hands?”

“The common people? A favor to them?” A flicker of doubt crossed Chen Feng’s eyes. “I only know he’s earned some literary reputation in Jiangning. Young as he is, isn’t that a rather grand claim you’re making on his behalf?”

Lu A’Gui thought about it, then broke into a rather odd smile. “It’s more than you could imagine… So? Shall we find a teahouse somewhere, catch up over a cup?”

After a long silence, Chen Feng looked at him and finally said, “…Fine.”

…

The sky had darkened, and a bright waxing moon had risen.

At the Prince Consort’s estate.

Zhou Pei had already finished dinner and was just coming out from visiting the Imperial Aunt, making her way through the brightly lit courtyard, intending as usual to head over to Grandfather Consort’s study to ask him some questions about her studies.

More than half her life these days was spent within the walls of this estate; wherever she went, the servants and guards never stopped her. As she approached the door of Grandfather Consort’s study, she heard voices speaking inside.

“Constables? Why would constables be watching Liheng?” That was Grandfather Consort’s voice. “Has something happened?”

She could occasionally overhear Grandfather Consort discussing more significant matters here, sometimes even confidential ones; sometimes Zhou Pei would listen for a bit, sometimes, feeling it wasn’t proper to eavesdrop, she’d turn and walk away. But today, she decided she wanted to hear more, and so she crouched down quietly beneath the eaves…