The ninth year of Jinghan, the third day of the seventh lunar month, night, Hangzhou.

Clouds like white gauze, shifting like dark wolves. Beneath the vast, glittering sea of stars, the fires of war raged all around the city, crowds clashing wave upon wave, banners of every kind tangled in battle, flames rising across the ground and driving black smoke up into the night sky. Red, black, and the scattered points of light across the city merged together into one.

In Taiping Lane, lamplight glimmered here and there. It was already deep into the night; inside the small shelter, Su Tan’er sat at the table in thin silk sleepwear, fanning herself with a small round fan while sorting through the past several days’ intelligence with her husband. When Xiao Chan passed by the window carrying a basin of water, Ning Yi called out, telling everyone to turn in early.

“Fang La’s already arrived by evening, and there wasn’t enough time to catch these people inside the city before that — it feels like we came up just one move short. Husband, I’ve never handled matters like this before, but even so, at a moment like this, the way they’ve gone about things really does seem quite poor. They act with complete abandon, no caution at all, while we’re the ones being careful and hesitant — it’s genuinely rather discouraging…”

The table was covered with slips of paper recording information; both husband and wife still held a few more in their hands, laying them down one by one, large and small. Ning Yi shook his head.

“Laying bait, deliberately showing weakness — that always comes at a cost. It’s not that Hangzhou lacks capable people; it’s that there are too many clever ones, each one getting tangled up with the others. When people genuinely want to get something done, they often end up settling for avoiding blame rather than achieving results. What we’re doing now is already the relatively safe approach — trying to catch them without suffering too badly ourselves. Even so, I’d guess Qian Haiping’s under a great deal of pressure over on his end — if not for Qian Xiwen, he’d probably have been unable to hold things together long ago. Just that mess at the docks the other day alone must have been enough of a headache for him.”

Su Tan’er set down a slip of paper, tilting her head slightly. “I’m not too fond of this Qian Haiping. Going off to stir up trouble with the Lou family today for no real reason… it makes me feel like…”

“That he’s not entirely well-intentioned?” Ning Yi smiled, matching two slips of paper together, tapping them lightly. “Qian Haiping’s influence can’t really touch the Lou family, and the Lou family can’t strike back at the Qians either — in the end, the pressure just falls back on us. Qian Haiping may genuinely have wanted to vent some frustration on our behalf, but doing so also means the Lou family’s resentment now bears down on us, which only pushes us further toward relying on the Qian family’s protection — why wouldn’t he be glad to do it? No need to think too well of people. What he’s doing is simply going along with the current, nothing more.”

“Husband’s certainly taking it in stride — I can’t shake it off so easily.” Su Tan’er pursed her lips. “Well, never mind it, once this siege is over we’ll head straight back to Jiangning, then up to the capital — no more dealings with the Lou or Qian families at all after that… That Lou Shuweng really is such a strange one.”

“He fancies you, probably…”

“Husband, don’t joke about that — it’s unpleasant to even hear…”

“Ha ha. Rather pitiable, really.”

As the couple talked in that room, over in a street near the southern part of the city, at the old Lou family estate, something else was unfolding.

These past several days, despite the earthquake and the danger of war, the Lou family, being one of the great households of Hangzhou, hadn’t been badly disrupted. It was only today that some trouble had arisen — several groups of Wude Battalion soldiers, yamen officers, and various officials had come and gone from the Lou residence throughout the day, creating quite a commotion. No outsider knew exactly what the underlying issue was, but it was clear enough the Lou household had had a fair amount smashed up — some coming to make trouble, others coming to smooth things over, though for now those causing trouble clearly had the upper hand. Over several rounds, whether under the pretext of hunting down traitors or requisitioning goods, the Lou family’s entrance hall and outer chambers had been left in shambles.

This chaos had already dragged on for the better part of the day, people arriving and leaving in waves. What the Lou family themselves were thinking through all this remained unclear. By now it was late at night, and after another wave of troublemakers had left, two figures appeared beneath a willow tree just outside the lane, gazing toward the Lou family’s front gate. The one in the lead, with his long, loose hair, was none other than Wang Yin.

The effects of the earthquake still lingered, and during the day plenty of residents had gathered to watch the spectacle unfolding at the Lou household. By this hour, small bonfires crackled here and there along the street, though fewer people remained out. Those who hadn’t yet gone to bed were still discussing the incident with great interest, wondering just who had gone after the Lou family this way. Behind Wang Yin stood a man named Xu Fang, who, after watching for a while, said quietly, “Brother Wang, why did we come here? I’d rather have gone with Shi Bao and the others to see that scholar.”

“What’s so interesting about a scholar.” Wang Yin laughed, his eyes fixed on the Lou family servants clearing up the wreckage in front of the gate. “They all look the same to me.”

“That one’s different, though — the one who married in. Brother Wang, could this be a mistake?”

“‘This southeastern splendor, the great gathering-place of the three Wu regions — Qiantang has flourished since ancient days. Willows wreathed in mist, painted bridges, curtains of wind and screens of green, homes scattered in their tens of thousands…’ If not for this earthquake, that verse would already have made its name known across the realm. There’s no mistake there. As for that other one — everyone’s already looked, whoever we send would just be looking too. We might as well do something more practical instead. He set up a scheme against us, so we can turn it around and lay a new one of our own using him. Coming to look tonight, this development is really a gift from heaven… Brother Xu, I’ve looked into this Lou Jinlin before — he’s good at holding his tongue, but that temperament of his is no gentle thing. See how he’s shown no reaction at all to today’s business — that alone tells me he’s holding his anger down in his gut…”

Wang Yin laughed. “With an opportunity like this at hand, if we still can’t seize it, we’d hardly count as men. Brother Xu, let’s watch a while longer — if truly no one else comes, go over and speak on my behalf. Tell them… Wang Yin, under Fang La’s banner, seeks an audience…”

…

With a soft splutter, the bean-shaped flame of the oil lamp flickered. Ning Yi trimmed the wick, but glancing at the hour, it was already nearly time for bed.

Handling the city’s intelligence hadn’t, for husband and wife, ever felt like formal business — even now, Su Tan’er sat on the bed with an embroidery frame, working somewhat clumsily at a piece of needlework, which for her served as something of an outlet for her worries. Ning Yi lit a small lantern and went out, planning one more patrol of the grounds. At this hour his wife wouldn’t sleep — she always waited for him to come back before turning in together.

Outside, the courtyard had grown relatively quiet; the street beyond still had patrols moving through, while Steward Geng and the others were responsible for security within the compound. Ning Yi made a full circuit, and as he neared the side wall, he heard a sound.

The sound came suddenly, out of nowhere.

In an instant, the whistling rush of a blade tearing through the air erupted from the neighboring courtyard, a series of rapid whoosh-whoosh-whoosh sounds slicing through — who knew how many things — and a woman’s cry of “ah!” was abruptly cut off the moment it left her throat. It sounded almost as though some great windmill had suddenly begun spinning; a heavy crack followed, the sound of solid wood being sheared through, then a sharp, ringing crack split the night sky, and a woman’s agonized scream burst out as she was sent flying through the courtyard gate, sparks of clashing steel flashing in the darkness. Then, with a rumbling crash, half of an already precarious building began collapsing…

Ning Yi’s position was separated from that courtyard by only a single wall — already crumbling by now. This sudden burst of sound had lasted no more than a few seconds, and the building’s collapse had already announced the death of the night’s peace; people far and near were startled awake, and back in his own courtyard, Steward Geng and the others were jolted alert at once. Ning Yi snuffed out his little lantern and moved closer. The half-collapsed building had thrown up dust, though not thickly, and through it, Ning Yi could make out a figure standing at the courtyard gate facing the street — a gate that had just been smashed open.

Out on the street, a tall, sturdy woman lay coughing up blood, her broken blade still in hand. She was one of the proprietors of the Liu Martial Arts Academy at the corner; though her husband was the hall’s master, her own skill was no less considerable, and with trouble in Taiping Lane, the academy’s people had naturally taken part in the defense. Inside the courtyard, five or six mangled bodies lay scattered in disarray, blood flowing freely — clearly, that sudden burst of sound had been these people being killed.

In a matter of mere seconds, five or six had been cut down, and the woman from the Liu Academy sent flying out through the gate with a single stroke. The one responsible for all this now stood quietly at the courtyard gate. Black gauze hat, blue floral-print skirt — the same minority-style dress Ning Yi had glimpsed once before. Not a drop of blood marked her clothing even now; the only difference from before was the massive blade now reversed in her right hand, its blade dragging behind her — a fearsome thing, easily a meter and thirty or forty centimeters long. Dragged along like that, it looked strangely out of place against her slight frame, and yet somehow carried a peculiar tension too, as though that reversed blade, trailing along the ground, might at any moment burst into motion again, spinning like a windmill as it had just done, claiming another life.

“O-Overlord… Overlord Blade…” The sturdy woman from the Liu Academy clutched her chest, staring fixedly at the girl who’d just sent her flying with a single stroke. “Who… who are you…”

The question carried a certain weight to it, and only then did Ning Yi recall — this Liu Academy’s swordsmanship had originally been said to trace back to some distant branch of a renowned blade-wielding family. It seemed, then, that this connected somehow to the very “Overlord Blade” Liu Dabiao who’d been troubling Ning Yi and the others of late.

Sounds of movement were converging on this spot from every direction now, yet the girl dragging that massive blade remained utterly unmoved, simply standing there. After a long moment, she spoke at last, her voice cold in the night air. “My father was killed by the authorities. Auntie Duanming, it’s been a while. I’ve come to avenge him — don’t get in my way.”

The woman called Auntie Duanming frowned, seeming to recall something at last. “You… you’re… Xigua? How did you…”

The girl’s name was Xigua — possibly Liu Xigua. Ning Yi felt an urge to laugh despite himself, and quietly withdrew from sight. Gongs and shouts had already grown urgent throughout the compound; his own household had already come rushing out, with Steward Geng and the others moving to protect them. Just then, a deafening crack sounded out on the road beyond, and someone came charging forth with brutal force, smashing the man sounding the alarm gong, gong and all, clean off his feet with a single blow of a hammer — followed at once by a chorus of piercing screams. More and more attackers appeared out of the darkness, one, two, three, four. With few skilled fighters left defending Taiping Lane at this hour, some had already scrambled onto the walls and rooftops. Ning Yi signaled to Steward Geng and the others, telling them to guide the family away according to their prearranged plan. Then a voice rang out through the night sky.

“Ha ha ha ha, up and at ’em! No more sleeping! I hear there’s a fellow here named Ning Liheng — married in, they say, but with real ability, quite the formidable sort — who is it? Come out and show yourself to this old man, if you’ve got the guts—”

The scene had already fallen into chaos, Steward Geng and the others momentarily blocked from any way out. As the attackers shouted, their killing had briefly paused; forcing their way through wasn’t impossible, but wouldn’t come easily. Ning Yi took in the scene for a long moment; one man standing on a rooftop had already fixed his gaze on him. He drew a deep breath, looked over the group of men who now nearly surrounded the street and courtyard at not so great a distance, and frowned.

“That would be me. Might I ask a question — how exactly did you find me?”

That these men had come at all, the reason was obvious enough — it had to do with the scheming he’d been doing on Qian Haiping’s behalf. What he couldn’t fathom was how, given that he’d never once been at the true center of the operation, deliberately keeping his own involvement obscure, and with no apparent trace to follow, these people had come to know of his existence at all. That was how he’d reasoned it, at least — but the answer that came back was blunt and simple enough. Someone on the street burst out laughing.

“Caught one of your spies, tortured him a bit, and naturally he told us everything! That’s why we’ve come looking for you tonight, ha ha ha ha! Got any last words to leave behind?”

“That’d be Shi Bao, I take it?” Ning Yi smiled, lowered his head slightly, licked his lips with a complicated expression, and after a long moment let out a bitter exclamation. “Damn it, I knew this whole plan was too shaky. We spent four or five days laying a net for you people, still hadn’t managed to root out your base, and one man gets captured and just spills the whole thing at once. The most terrifying thing in this world truly isn’t a godlike opponent — it’s a pig of a teammate!”

He spoke with genuine feeling, his tone almost darkly comic, yet tinged with something like gritted-teeth fury. The people of Taiping Lane were in a state of terrified confusion, hearing only Ning Yi’s remarkably composed exchange without understanding exactly what was happening. On the other side, Shi Bao raised a bronze hammer and smashed straight through the courtyard wall. Not far off, Steward Geng, escorting Su Tan’er and the others, tried to slip away from the side; Xiao Chan and the others seemed to hesitate, and Su Tan’er, seizing their collars firmly, hauled them onward. Before long, though, this group too was spotted.

“Think you can leave?”

The man standing atop the building shouted this out — but before he’d even finished, Ning Yi’s gaze had already turned toward him, cold and sharp as a blade. “That’s the question you all should be answering, isn’t it!”

He spoke with startling authority, and with those few words, the whole atmosphere of the courtyard seemed to freeze solid, every gaze suddenly fixed on Ning Yi. These men had come for him specifically, striking suddenly, bold with their own skill, entirely confident they already held the upper hand — but after Ning Yi’s shout, for a moment not a single one of them dared be certain it was mere bluff. All of them froze, if only for an instant.

“What did you… say!?” Over on Shi Bao’s side, a savage grin spread across his face.