The situation had spiraled utterly out of control in an instant.

Along the causeways, beneath the shade of the trees, among the distant boats — drawn by the earlier commotion and accusations, and by Lou Shuweng’s loud outcry, people had already come crowding over out of curiosity. Beneath the trees over there, the women who had been playing the zither and chatting quietly had also been startled the moment Lou Shuweng fell into the water, and had stopped their music, mingling with the crowd to look over. Soon after, a group of Lou Shuweng’s friends had pushed their way through the crowd, and before long, one person after another was seen being knocked to the ground, then another being flung violently into the water.

The shouting hadn’t let up when a third man rushed in, and he too was immediately slammed to the ground; then a fourth. Perhaps only now did the crowd begin to realize that things weren’t unfolding quite the way they’d assumed.

Hangzhou was a major city, the foremost administrative center of the southeast, and those who had come to Xiaoyingzhou this time were all people of status and standing. The Lou family, to which Lou Shuweng belonged, was already among the very top-ranked families in Hangzhou, and the young men who associated with him typically carried various kinds of status and standing themselves. Even those who weren’t from prestigious or wealthy families could, in this world dominated by literary pursuits, generally find themselves befriended by well-connected people so long as they had real talent for poetry and weren’t too socially inept — and could rise to a certain spirited prominence that way.

There was, of course, the old saying about the frail scholar who couldn’t so much as truss a chicken. But young men full of spirit and pride, thinking rather too much of themselves, weren’t uncommon in a place like Hangzhou where the elite congregated so densely — friction was common enough, as the several well-known courtesans invited to this gathering understood even better than most. Squabbles and jealous spats in the pleasure quarters, occasionally escalating to the point of wanting to come to blows, sometimes ending with people restraining themselves, sometimes with people backing down after comparing family standing, and sometimes with people actually fighting.

A brawl among scholars generally wasn’t very damaging — usually it ended with everyone’s robes rumpled and them panting for breath, maybe with a bloody nose. But when it was many against one, there was no telling what might happen to whoever found himself outnumbered and alone. Here beneath the tree stood what looked like a frail scholar in his early twenties, shielding a delicate maidservant beside him — and Lou Shuweng’s outcry had all but settled which direction things would go. A matrilocal son-in-law caught carrying on with a maid — this sort of person, even if surrounded and beaten, probably wouldn’t dare fight back.

And yet, as the old man spoke and the crowd surged forward, the first man was knocked flat immediately; the second was sent flying into the pond; the third took a vicious elbow strike to the shoulder and crumpled to the ground. The young scholar shielding the girl had only loosened his hold on her slightly, still standing squarely in front of her, showing not the faintest hint of weakness — he simply grabbed the fourth man’s fist, brow furrowed, twisted it sharply, and shoved the man away amid his agonized scream. The crowd, struck dumb by this sudden, decisive counterattack, wavered with a flicker of hesitation.

Of course, even having suddenly recognized that Ning Yi wasn’t someone to be trifled with, with so many people present, Lou Shuweng’s friends and cronies could hardly retreat now. The old man who’d spoken up earlier stared wide-eyed as well — he too held some standing among Hangzhou’s Confucian scholars, though naturally nowhere near the prestige of the Lou or Qian families. But having just seen the Lou family’s second son knocked into the water, and the other party a complete stranger, he’d resolutely stepped forward. Now, hair and beard bristling with fury, he waved his hand through the air: “You insolent wretch — how dare you! Not only did you commit this crime, but you dare to run wild and attack people! Submit yourself for capture at once!”

His answer was another man charging forward, only to be shoved back by Ning Yi and sent crashing into the crowd with a thud: “Back off!” Xiao Chan was shielded behind him; the space wasn’t wide, and with that shove, Ning Yi had already stepped forward, calling out in a low, stern voice.

“Seize him!”

Lou Shuweng shouted from the water. Ning Yi, in his earlier burst of rage, had held back from using his full strength, but half of his face had already swollen up, and blood now trickled from his mouth, his expression twisted. At this shout, several more men rushed forward together: “Beat him!” No matter how fierce Ning Yi appeared, this was now a matter of sheer numbers, and here in the Hangzhou area, whether or not they could actually win, there would always be plenty of people eager to jump in on behalf of the Lou family’s second son. Those who’d hesitated a moment before now instantly worked this out for themselves. The man in front was immediately floored by Ning Yi; the one beside him threw a punch, which Ning Yi casually deflected, then drove his own fist into the face of the third man charging viciously at him, sending blood streaming from his nose.

Having knocked one man down, Ning Yi slapped another straight into the water with a crack, and already another was charging in. Dodging aside, someone swept a vicious kick at his leg; he swept his own leg back in return, sending the man flying up into the air. Before he could steady himself, a short, stocky scholar came rushing in with a yell, wrapping his arms tightly around Ning Yi’s waist, trying with all his strength to shove him backward. Ning Yi stumbled back half a step, then drove an elbow hard into the man’s back.

The scholar’s grip loosened, but he still refused to let go and didn’t fall. Ning Yi grabbed him by both shoulders and, with a low shout, flung him — along with another man charging in from the side — both of them together into West Lake. In that same instant as Ning Yi turned, someone rushed in from the other side and delivered a flying kick, striking hard at his back — Ning Yi didn’t budge, but the attacker seemed to have kicked into a solid wall, and went crashing to the ground.

Xiao Chan cried out in tears and rushed forward. Young and small as she was, panicked and frightened, her voice choked with sobs, she swung her little fists wildly at the head of the man who’d just been thrown to the ground from his ambush attempt — though truthfully she was also afraid of being hit herself, so she squeezed her eyes shut and flailed blindly, not landing a single blow. The man on the ground, his head still ringing, flailed his arm out wildly and struck Xiao Chan’s hand by chance, sending her staggering backward — there wasn’t much room behind her, and she only avoided falling into the water by grabbing onto a tree trunk.

Crying, she was about to rush forward again when Ning Yi, grabbing the wrist of another man charging at him, called back over his shoulder: “Xiao Chan, get somewhere safe!” Xiao Chan, knowing full well she was only a liability at this point, stood by the water’s edge instead, wiping her tears and crying out: “What are you all doing! What are you doing! Bullying people! Bullying people…”

The man on the ground was just trying to get up when Ning Yi stepped back and planted a foot on the back of his hand. Though Ning Yi wore only cloth shoes, the man let out a scream of pain anyway, his other hand desperately slapping at Ning Yi’s heel, while Ning Yi’s fists continued blocking and striking around him, absorbing two blows to the chest without his feet ever moving — the man’s screaming became a continuous accompaniment to the ongoing brawl.

The scene was chaotic and intense; those taking part in the beating might each have had their own thoughts on the matter, but the crowd of onlookers on the periphery had, by now, fallen into stunned silence, some shocked, some full of admiration — especially the woman under the tree who’d been holding her instrument, watching in a daze, her breathing growing rapid.

In this era, everyone had seen their share of rough, uncultured brawlers who made their living wandering the martial world by their fists. But Ning Yi didn’t look anything like a martial artist. Standing there in his early twenties, in a simple blue robe, striking without much in the way of technique or stance, his movements were quick and clean. People rushed at him in twos and threes, only to be either knocked down or forced to retreat; though everyone present looked to be roughly the same age and build, this crowd, in front of him, might as well have been a bunch of children. They swarmed him, and even on the rare occasion someone landed a hit, all it did was rumple or dirty his robe. He shielded the crying girl behind him and never once retreated a single step.

By now, more than a dozen people had already been injured — some bleeding from the mouth or nose, some nursing an arm, some with a twisted neck, groaning off to the side. And the disturbance kept spreading; from farther off, still more people were gathering, and among them were those who recognized each other and wanted to rush in and join the fight.

The young men taking part in the group beating might have been too swept up in the heat of the moment to think clearly, but among the onlookers there were many who kept a much cooler head. By now, some seasoned merchants and scholars had begun to see what was really going on — even, among the crowd along the pond’s causeway, some of the courtesans could tell. This man being denounced as an adulterer carried himself with such steady composure, showing such presence in the way he handled this situation, that he was nothing like the sort of frivolous, philandering scholar typically lost in women and deceiving their affections — someone with such bearing marrying into another family as a son-in-law seemed almost inconceivable.

Given Lou Shuweng’s status, of course, no one was about to step forward and say any of this out loud, but all sorts of murmurs were already stirring through the crowd. What had started out as people asking “what on earth happened?” or denouncing “that adulterer and his whore” had, by now, entirely shifted to the question: “who is this man?” There were merchants in the crowd who could recall Ning Yi and mentioned his status as a matrilocal son-in-law, only for others to respond: “Impossible — you must be thinking of someone else…” — and the first would nod, considering the point. Across the way, beneath the trees, those courtesans, clutching their guqin and zheng, were also whispering among themselves, though their eyes never left the fighting for a moment.

If this had been a brawl among ordinary martial world types, however fierce, they likely would have simply thought it the doing of crude, foolish men. But this scene, playing out before them now, was clearly something altogether different.

In the blink of an eye, more than a dozen people had already been injured, and though the whole thing hadn’t lasted very long, that crowd of scholars still seemed to keep throwing themselves forward one after another, while over among the crowd, soldiers trying to restore order were already pushing their way over. The first to arrive was only a single man, who, not daring to offend the packed crowd around him, moved forward very slowly. He had only just managed to push his way out of the crowd when, beside him, a tall, burly scholar who’d been searching around for something suddenly bellowed: “You son of a—!” and, in a flash, yanked the soldier’s saber right out of its sheath, charging straight ahead.

“Watch out—!”

“Don’t do anything rash!”

“Ah—!”

Cries rang out on all sides. The man was charging in from the side; Ning Yi, seeing the glint of the blade, felt his brow tighten. He was a man of self-restraint, and had been holding back throughout this whole fight — otherwise, with the burst of explosive power from the internal cultivation Lu Hongti had left him, combined with his knowledge of the body’s vulnerable points, it would have been no trouble at all to kill several of these scholars with a few strikes. But now, planting his foot, he walked directly toward the man with the blade!

The two figures collided in an instant.

That scholar, too, was a spoiled young man of privilege — caught up in a sudden rush of blood to draw the blade in anger, but when it came to actually killing someone, he had, in truth, never done such a thing before. Ning Yi charged straight at him; in his heart, the man flinched for just a moment. The blade swung out, but by now it posed no threat to Ning Yi at all — closing the distance in an instant, empty-handed against the blade, he seized the man’s arm and wrenched it sharply backward, drawing a scream of agony. In the eyes of the onlookers, the two figures simply seemed to merge together for an instant, and then, amid the man’s anguished cry, the tall scholar was sent stumbling backward, off balance, before crashing with a thud, chest-first, into a large tree at the lake’s edge. The trunk shuddered from the impact, leaves rustling down in a shower.

More men came rushing in from behind; Ning Yi backhanded the first of them away, but the two who followed immediately tried to pin him down. Ning Yi, his left hand still twisting the tall scholar’s knife-bearing arm behind him, pressing the man against the tree trunk, found the two newcomers closing in fast — one clamped onto his right hand, while the other, pressing in close, was met with a sudden loud crack.

A vicious headbutt sent the man staggering back, clutching his nose. Ning Yi’s right hand twisted around, seizing the other man’s wrist and the pulse point on his arm, spinning him around in place a full two turns, then grabbing him by the earlobe and tearing him sideways, forcing him to bend double. Blood flowed freely as the man screamed continuously in pain, no longer daring to struggle.

“Had enough of this yet — or do you want more!?”

Ning Yi swept his gaze over the remaining scholars, who still seemed eager to try their luck, and barked out the words. His left hand still held the tall scholar pinned against the tree trunk, controlling both the man and the blade at once, while his other hand gripped the second scholar’s ear, already torn open; the man was doubled over, only screaming, not daring to struggle further. At this shout, the crowd along the causeway, watching him, gradually fell silent — no one dared charge forward anymore. Ning Yi’s own imposing presence was secondary; what mattered most was that blade — if things went on any further, matters would truly spiral beyond control.

Behind him, Xiao Chan stood crying and wiping her tears; the crowds layered along the causeway all stared over in this direction. The women across the water stood with lips slightly parted, hands clasped together, apparently murmuring something to each other without sound. Su Tan’er, in fact, had already rushed over, but couldn’t push her way into the crowd; she stood off to the side, watching, unsure which way matters would develop from here.

And at that same moment, in the crowd, Lou Shuwan — who had arrived a little earlier — stood with both hands pressed over her mouth, staring in open-mouthed shock at the scene unfolding before her. She had always thought it something of a joke that Ning Yi supposedly loved martial arts yet only ever seemed to watch from outside the training halls; in her experience of this era, so-called scholars who claimed to love the martial arts had always turned out to be nothing but playacting. She had never imagined that, once he actually started fighting for real, the scene before her eyes could turn out to be anything like this…