The sky was overcast, autumn wind blowing bleak and desolate. Coming out of the main courtyard of the Overlord Blade Camp’s headquarters after seeing Liu Xigua, someone was looking for Ning Yi.

Three men had come from the direction of the academy. Since Ning Yi hadn’t gone to teach that day, it was Feng Yongli who had led them over. All three were sturdily built, clearly men who practiced martial arts. The one in the lead was around forty, with sharp, arrogant eyes and an air of looking down on everyone—like a corrupt but experienced constable who nonetheless always managed to crack his cases. The two following him were young warriors in their twenties, their gazes rather cold.

“Censorate. You’re Ning Liheng?”

The leader produced his official plaque and introduced himself. After looking Ning Yi over for a moment, he added, “The one who surrendered over, is that right?”

Fang La had established the Yongle Dynasty following the institutional model of the Wu Dynasty, and the Censorate’s function was to oversee internal officials. But until recently, the so-called Censorate had been an empty office in name only, without any actual members. It was only in the past few days, with Li Tianrun returning to settle accounts with the former faction that had favored surrender and pacification, that the name “Censorate” had been put to use, at least on the surface. In just these few days, mid- and lower-level officials outside had already reached the point where the mere mention of a censor made their faces change color, because once such people came looking for someone, ninety percent of the time what followed was imprisonment, torture, and execution. Though it bore a seemingly official title, the actual interrogation process was entirely arbitrary, with nowhere to appeal.

That these three had come looking for him now was, Ning Yi guessed, likely the work of Li Tianyou. He had long since prepared himself for this, though he had originally assumed the other side would strike suddenly outside the Overlord Blade Camp. This business of extending courtesy before force left him genuinely puzzled.

But after a moment, he realized things might be somewhat different from what he’d imagined.

“…You originally surrendered to us. Our Yongle Dynasty felt you had some learning, and allowed you to teach at Wenlie Academy. You ought to be mindful of the depth of the state’s grace toward you. Yet instead of teaching properly at the academy, you’ve been spreading heretical talk to confuse the masses, praising a running dog of the court like Qian Xiwen as a man of great virtue, causing many students at the academy to form factions—calling themselves this society and that group. The influence has now become extremely pernicious. Do you know your crime?”

They had found a nearby room, and the leader spoke of this matter in a stern, severe voice, while the other two used various expressions and gestures to intimidate and hint at threats. By now it looked exactly like an interrogation. But Ning Yi was no fool when it came to reading people’s intentions—he could often tell at a glance. What they were doing here was clearly just empty bluster and intimidation; they had no intention of actually arresting him. Such a warning might frighten some truly inexperienced defectors, but it could hardly work on him. Li Tianyou surely knew this too. So what was he really after?

Ning Yi felt puzzled, but on the surface he didn’t show too much fear. After he had spoken for a while, the other side seemed to feel he showed no reaction and was being arrogant, and one of the young men wanted to strike him, but was stopped by the middle-aged man. The other side was probably also wary that this was Overlord Blade Camp territory and didn’t want to make things too big. They only intensified their warnings about the matter of the students privately forming factions, the implication being that he should voluntarily disband the two student groups he had fostered.

“…This matter has already come to the attention of those above, and the influence is extremely bad. The lord above is magnanimous and said he’d merely look into it, not hold it against you for now. Someone like you, having surrendered, is like a dog or a pig—I could beat you, or cripple your hands and feet, and no one would say a word. But since you’re after all a teacher at the academy, I’ll leave you some face. If I come back after some time and this hasn’t stopped, you will certainly be taken in. Think carefully about your own good.”

Having said this, the man left, with the two following him cursing under their breath. Ning Yi had originally intended to cultivate an atmosphere at the Overlord Blade Camp of being pushed to the point of desperation, so he didn’t much care about the other side’s arrogant posturing. He was only puzzled in his heart, and followed along behind them for a stretch, catching snatches of their conversation—it seemed the younger one was asking the middle-aged man why he hadn’t beaten him.

“…A scholar like that always carries some arrogance. Even if he’s afraid in his heart, he likes to put up a front…”

“…Tch, he’s already surrendered, what arrogance is there to speak of…”

“Do you know how he came to surrender? Give him a warning like this and he’ll definitely be wary in his heart—from now on he’ll be scared, and that’ll be that… Let me teach you how to read people. Just now, that look on his face—strange, but fearless. Clearly he has some backing. We’re not afraid of that, but if it comes to a dispute, both sides pulling in people, the whole day would be wasted again. I have things to attend to tonight and don’t want complications… We’ll come ask again in a few days. If he still hasn’t reined himself in by then, we truly won’t let him off.”

Having heard this, Ning Yi turned back, and saw Zhuo Xiaofeng just coming out of the courtyard where he’d been warned, panting as he searched for him.

“Mr. Ning—Mr. Ning, they didn’t give you trouble, did they?”

“What’s going on?”

“Master Bao—Master Bao’s people made a move. At noon today they arrested Chen Teng’s parents and family entirely, saying they’d colluded with the court. But the ones who did it were all people connected to Master Bao. I heard someone from the Censorate came looking for you, so I was worried they were here to trouble you…”

“I’m fine.” Ning Yi frowned. “How did word spread so fast? You all haven’t been on particularly good terms with me before—they just came to warn me, it’s nothing. But how is Chen Teng doing now? And the rest of you—will you be affected?”

He had heard before that Bao Daoyi’s subordinates didn’t scruple over means, rich in connections with brothers everywhere, but he hadn’t expected the man to have such reach that he could track down his target in just half a day. Zhuo Xiaofeng was clearly frightened too, but he still shook his head.

“Chen Teng is fine. Brother Chen Fan arranged a place for him—they shouldn’t be able to find it for a while. I went home at noon and asked my father. He said we won’t be implicated for now. Master Bao wouldn’t go so far as to provoke public outrage either—at most he’d make an example of the Chen family, killing the chicken to scare the monkey…” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Mr. Ning, do you think… do you think that’s right?”

“Mm, if he moved against a whole group, that really would be too much. Stop investigating this matter, you all. There shouldn’t be any serious problem… Oh, whoever leaked the news is probably one of your own group’s children. Your families probably have some connection or another to Bao Daoyi as well.”

Zhuo Xiaofeng nodded. “My father said the same thing… Mr. Ning, as long as you’re fine, that’s good. I’ll head back now, and discuss with them… discuss what to do going forward.”

The youth finished speaking and returned to the academy. Ning Yi frowned and mulled over the matter—Bao Daoyi really was ruthless, killing an entire family once provoked, even warning the teacher at the other party’s school. Still, Zhuo Xiaofeng’s father seemed fairly composed—after all, the families of the children at the academy were mid-level officials of the Yongle court, so he knew Bao Daoyi likely wouldn’t escalate the matter further, and could even let his son go back to school to ease tensions.

As he was thinking this over, Liu Tiannan came by, asking about the trouble Ning Yi had just faced. After roughly understanding the situation, he waved his hand. “The Censorate connection can’t touch you. If they come making trouble again, don’t bother arguing with them—just call over a few people, give them a beating, and toss them out. Coming all the way here to talk big—kindness only invites bullying… All right, I have some matters to attend to. I’ll go first.”

Ning Yi had spoken vaguely, and Liu Tiannan assumed it was Li Tianrun’s people coming to provoke him, and for a moment deeply regretted not having intercepted them earlier. Truthfully, as the general manager of the Overlord Blade Camp, Liu Tiannan’s usual style leaned toward steadiness. But the reason the Overlord Blade Camp had struck at the Qi family was precisely to demonstrate its strength before Li Tianrun’s return—even the manor lord, Liu Xigua, had been injured in the process. If someone came to provoke them at a time like this, given the Overlord Blade Camp’s consistently hardline style, they truly would draw their blades and strike back, even if the opponent were Li Tianrun himself—otherwise how could they maintain their standing in the upper echelons of the Yongle court?

By now it was afternoon. After Liu Tiannan left, Ning Yi returned to his small courtyard. As evening approached, Yang Zhiwu and Chen Xituo came knocking on his door. Ning Yi guessed in his heart that matters had likely worsened further. Sure enough, the two boys spoke of the Righteous Society’s latest actions.

“…Just now we saw Zhuo Xiaofeng and a dozen or so others gathered together, heading toward the east gate. We heard something big happened. Mr. Ning, they’ve blown things up. Can you come with us to take a look…”

Yang Zhiwu and Chen Xituo didn’t know that Ning Yi had a connection with Zhuo Xiaofeng, but they probably already sensed the seriousness of the situation and knew that even if their own Yongle Youth Corps got involved, they’d likely be powerless to help—which was why they’d come to seek Ning Yi’s guidance. Ning Yi nodded. “Is it about Chen Teng’s family?”

“No… it seems it’s about Chen Teng himself…”

“Hm?”

“And I also heard Brother Chen Fan went too…”

Given their contact over these past days, Chen Fan, with his forthright and flamboyant style, was quite popular among this group of children, though when it came to actually handling matters, they probably still trusted Ning Yi’s judgment more. Outside the courtyard gate, seven or eight core members of the “Youth Corps” were already waiting. Everyone headed toward the east gate together, and along the way more people came bearing news. It turned out Chen Teng’s injuries were quite severe; after Chen Fan had rescued him, he’d arranged for him to be treated by a physician he knew, without telling anyone the location. But that afternoon, Bao Daoyi’s men had found the physician. No one knew exactly what had happened, but the result was that the physician and the youth named Chen Teng were both now dead.

When they reached the marketplace near the east gate, one section of it was now shrouded in an air of grim severity. The clinic’s doors stood wide open, several corpses laid out inside, all covered with white cloth. As Ning Yi understood it, when Bao Daoyi’s men had found Chen Teng, they probably hadn’t simply killed him with a single blow, but had beaten the already gravely wounded youth to death slowly, amid scolding and blows.

The dozen or so youths stood there on the street, their eyes red, some gritting their teeth as they spoke. A squad of Black Feather Guards had cordoned off pedestrians on either side. Standing at the clinic’s entrance were An Xifu and Chen Fan, though by now the two had apparently already quarreled. An Xifu had drawn his blade and was pointing it at Chen Fan, who sneered and tapped his own chest.

Though Ning Yi hadn’t had as much contact with An Xifu as he had with Chen Fan, having known him for some time now, he roughly understood that An Xifu wasn’t especially skilled in martial arts—probably about on par with himself. If it truly came to blows, he wouldn’t last many exchanges against Chen Fan.

When Ning Yi and the others arrived, An Xifu’s gaze turned toward them. By this point Chen Fan seemed to have calmed down somewhat as well. He looked at the red-eyed youths, then at Ning Yi, and finally spread his hands and turned to withdraw…

…

Life versus dignity—which mattered more? It was a difficult question to answer. Ning Yi had never been an extremist; extremism solved nothing. He had always believed a person should have ideals and hold to them, but not to the point of losing one’s life for the sake of holding on. And yet even so, one still needed ideals and conviction—without them, what difference was there between a person and an insect?

A mature person could live humbly for the sake of his ideals; an immature person was willing to die heroically for his. There was a saying like that. Ning Yi was a pragmatist—if he set a goal, he would use whatever means necessary to accomplish it, and setbacks along the way were nothing to make a fuss over. Of course, if a person’s ideal was to never bend his back for a lifetime, or to die as a Confucian moral exemplar the way Qian Xiwen had, that was a different matter. Life was one long struggle—bending, setbacks, distortions, none of it mattered, so long as there was still breath in you, you could always keep pushing forward.

Of course, none of this could be explained to those children; they couldn’t possibly understand it. Seeing their red-rimmed eyes, Ning Yi understood roughly why—they were young, after all, and couldn’t grasp what it meant for circumstance to overpower a person. And in this era, their fathers’ hands were stained with blood too—having hard fists, having backbone, meant having everything. To kneel was to be a coward.

Bao Daoyi had ultimately pushed too far. When Zhuo Xiaofeng had wanted to stay out of the matter of the Chen family, this group of children had already, in effect, chosen to back down—but once slapped across the face, they probably couldn’t back down any further. Of course, on Bao Daoyi’s side, he probably didn’t take this group of children seriously at all; to him, children naturally had to be slapped one by one until they learned obedience.

Something might happen. If something did happen, it would even benefit Ning Yi—but regarding the matter at hand, he didn’t intend to intervene or steer things, neither to calm them down nor to stir anything up. He knew the Daoist temple where Bao Daoyi currently resided was called White Deer Temple, heavily guarded and imposing. That very night, he dreamed of a scene where a group of youths charged the temple with swords and spears.

The next day, Yang Zhiwu and a group of “Youth Corps” youths came looking for him.

“…The Righteous Society is about to make a move. We… we’re planning to help them…” the youth said.

“What do you plan to do? If it’s charging White Deer Temple to personally cut down Bao Daoyi, I’d applaud you for it.”

“Er… we discussed it and there’s an opportunity. This afternoon we can act… After what happened at Ancient Paulownia Temple, Bao Daoyi probably feels the place isn’t safe anymore, so he’s going to move those women elsewhere. We found out that this afternoon the convoy will pass through Pingchang Street…”

Ning Yi’s expression turned serious, and he nodded. “Go on.”

“That’s a busy market street. We plan to block the road—as long as we smash open one of the carriages, so people can see the women inside, they won’t be able to explain it away in public. That many women—it’ll be too much to just brush off. The grudge’s already there anyway. We can’t beat Bao Daoyi, but if we make it a big enough scene, at least those women will be saved. You’ve always said we should act with method, not recklessly. We’ve thought it over and over, and this is probably the only way we can actually do something.”

Ning Yi looked at him for a long while, then broke into a smile. He walked to the window, nodded, and after a good pause, said, “Between the two of your groups, you’ll have forty or fifty people, all with family connections. If handled well, you needn’t fear Bao Daoyi’s retaliation. I didn’t want to say this before, because you might not have been able to pull it off. Now I’ll tell you—after this is over, no matter how your elders scold or beat you, you children mustn’t back down. Grit your teeth and stand united. If you don’t back down, your families won’t be able to back down either, however they might wish to. If you can force them to unite, Bao Daoyi won’t be able to touch anyone. Since you’re not acting recklessly, after this is over—I’ll help you.”

“Thank you, teacher!” Hearing this, Yang Zhiwu bowed happily. Having dealt with Ning Yi for so long, they naturally wanted to understand their teacher’s past thoroughly, though in the past such stories had only been passed along by word of mouth, and most of them assumed he was formidable. But from beginning to end, the Youth Corps’ business had always been their own doing—Ning Yi hadn’t gotten involved—and even now, his attitude had remained ambiguous throughout, only becoming clear at this moment, which suddenly made them feel they truly had someone to lean on. A moment later he asked excitedly, “Then… teacher, do you think this plan of ours can succeed?”

“If the intelligence is accurate…” Ning Yi smiled and nodded, “it should succeed.”

That’s what he said, but once Yang Zhiwu had left, Ning Yi stood by the window with a furrowed brow. Whether it succeeded or failed, this wasn’t going to be easy. He had originally only meant to use the pressure from Li Tianyou’s side to work with, but if this affair ended up truly involving him with Bao Daoyi, the situation would grow far more complicated—and far less controllable.

By afternoon, nearly thirty members of the “Yongle Youth Corps” had gathered—some were students from class, a few were young men in their twenties, including Chen Xituo’s older cousin, and also some street toughs the “Youth Corps” had befriended during their earlier good deeds, men unconcerned with Bao Daoyi’s influence. Regarding this matter, Yang Zhiwu had originally discussed acting together with Zhuo Xiaofeng and his group, but Zhuo Xiaofeng’s side had declined—after all, it was their own sworn brother who had died, and hot-blooded with grief, they had already gone to lie in ambush at noon. This group would gather separately and head to Pingchang Street afterward. Before setting off, Ning Yi gave each person two packets of quicklime powder, and also handed each of the children a small wooden bucket.

“…Use the lime to defend yourselves—keep a small bucket of water nearby too… I don’t approve of using this unless the situation is truly urgent, since it creates too deep a grudge, but your strength isn’t up to much. If a conflict breaks out, scatter the lime, and if that’s not enough, splash some water…”

After giving these instructions, Ning Yi disguised himself lightly, and the group headed toward Pingchang Street, splitting up once they reached the area. The Youth Corps children went to the upper floor of a teahouse at a bend in the road; the Righteous Society children had already taken seats earlier in a restaurant across the street. Seeing the other group arrive, they felt somewhat moved, but didn’t greet each other. Ning Yi went to a spot a little further down the street, pushing a small cart selling rapeseed oil while keeping an eye on his surroundings.

Around the estimated time, a youth who had been keeping watch up ahead rode back on horseback, confirming the information was accurate. Ning Yi gazed far off toward the street corner. Without his noticing, Chen Fan sat down beside him. When the line of carriages appeared, Chen Fan tilted his head and smiled at Ning Yi.

“They got the intelligence wrong.”

“Hm?” Ning Yi was momentarily stunned.

“Those women aren’t being moved from here. Last night, after those children got the news, I went and checked—Bao Daoyi had set a trap for them… though maybe it’s because they weren’t careful enough with secrecy, so they ended up being used against themselves.”

Ning Yi glanced at him. “Why say this only now?”

“I thought about it last night. Going to warn them beforehand would mean nothing for their future. If the only reason they don’t suffer losses is because someone’s protecting them, they might grow used to it. But if the plan fails and they get caught, in the wrong besides, with their families further suppressed, they probably won’t be able to accomplish anything ever again. I thought it over all night, and there was only one thing left I could do…”

Ning Yi closed his eyes. “Three lotus roots floating in the jade pond…”

His voice was soft, and Chen Fan didn’t understand what the phrase meant, but by now his smile carried a hint of excitement.

“I used to be just like them—fearless of heaven or earth. Most of the people I know were like that too. Fearless of heaven or earth, but slowly, this world taught them to be afraid. Being afraid itself is fine, but after that, they end up not daring to do anything at all. And once they don’t dare, they come up with all sorts of reasons to convince themselves, and then go convince others too, as if their not daring were some great glory—cursing those who dare to act as fools. Honestly, I’ve slowly grown afraid too, unsure what ought to be done, always feeling that in this world, nothing can be accomplished, because everyone’s afraid.”

He paused. “These children you teach have a lot of ideas in their hearts. Failing at something is fine—it lets them learn how to get things done. But I can’t let them be afraid from the very start. I need to let them see that some adults aren’t afraid. Some things—as long as they still remember them once they’ve grown up—won’t seem as impossible as others say.”

The carriages drew closer. Chen Fan stood up, then tilted his head, puzzled. “Why are you pushing a cart around? If it’s useless, lend it to me?”

Ning Yi glanced at him. “This is rapeseed oil. I had the students prepare lime. If someone gets it thrown in their eyes, they can come here to wash them out.” After a moment he added, “…No hard feelings.”

“And still have a life left?” Chen Fan was stunned for a moment. “You’re truly sinister.”

Having said this, Chen Fan turned his head. The autumn street scene was bleak and gloomy; this once-bustling market street had few people about now. He exhaled a breath, and his bones let out a faint crackling sound in the air.

At that street corner, the group of Righteous Society youths had already begun rising to their feet unconsciously. Then they saw a figure at the street’s edge let out a great roar and charge forward.

The approaching carriages numbered seven in all, each drawn by two horses, moving at no small speed. That figure shot forward like an arrow through the desolate autumn scene, and in an instant the entire atmosphere snapped taut like a bowstring being drawn tighter and tighter. In the blink of an eye, the figure charged the second carriage, and a fist gathered to its peak of force slammed heavily into the head of the warhorse.

Blood burst forth, the horse’s scream drawn long, and with that single punch, the galloping horse’s entire body nearly left the ground, slamming into the other horse beside it. The horse, still dragging the shaft, sent the carriage body tilting sharply, the wheels lifting off the ground before crashing sideways with a thunderous roar.

The carriage body crashed to the ground with a great rumble, still being pushed forward by tremendous inertia. The filth and refuse on the street were kicked up in an instant. In front of the carriage, that figure had both hands pressed against the now-upright shaft, his whole body being pushed backward by the carriage’s momentum, but at last that sliding force came to a stop. A carriage behind swerved hastily and nearly slammed into a large tree by the roadside. The figure could be seen pressing against the shaft, beginning to exert force.

By now one of the carriage’s shafts had already snapped, the fallen horse had also slipped its reins, and the overturned carriage compartment began sliding sideways and backward under that person’s push, the momentum growing ever faster. Amid the thunderous crash, the man let out a great shout: “This is a matter of the martial world’s grudges—if you don’t want to die, get out of the way—” The vendors at several roadside stalls fled for their lives.

The carriage smashed into a small stall—one that had originally been selling fried snacks—overturning a pot of boiling oil onto the ground, firewood flying everywhere. The carriage rolled right over it, crashing into the wall on the far side of the road and coming to a stop. In the next instant, flames roared up in a blaze.

The carriage compartment was large, and now seven or eight people crawled out from inside, screaming—all of them martial artists who had been lying in ambush. That figure grabbed half of the broken shaft, kicked hard at the carriage body, wrenching the massive piece of wood free to use as a weapon, and smashed the head of the first man to crawl out. In the distance, on the fifth carriage, someone tore open the brocade curtain with a ripping sound, and a figure stepped out from within: “Chen Fan! What are you doing!” It was Bao Daoyi.

On the third carriage, the driver cracked his long whip, sending it snapping toward Chen Fan. Chen Fan didn’t move, simply reaching out to grab it and yanking hard—the whip shattered into several pieces with a crack, and the figure attached to the other end tumbled to the ground like a rolling gourd. But from carriage after carriage, martial artists of various expressions and weapons had already emerged. The seven carriages blocked the long street solid from front to back, amid a chorus of panicked screams. Chen Fan, gripping the shaft, walked forward.

“Bao Daoyi, today you die!”