Once night fell, fireflies rose flickering among the grass along the canal banks, cicada-song mingling with a chorus of frogs, stirring in the breeze. The water, the embankments, the paddies, the low shrubs, the military camp pitched by the dock and the great ships moored there, the stretching lights and fires—nearby peddlers who had set up stalls to sell their wares still lingered, not yet gone home. Not far off, by a little shed at the edge of a field, someone had lit a fire, set out a table and chairs, and invited over some finely dressed guests to sit and drink. Now and then the firelight leapt and danced, almost like some latter-day rustic retreat experience.

The summer heat had already set in, and most of those coming and going along the dock fanned themselves. Those dining aboard the great ships often couldn’t bear the stuffiness of the cabins and had moved their tables out onto the deck instead. Only when the river breeze blew through now and then, cooling the air somewhat, did cheers rise up and down the ship. Nearly everyone came out to enjoy the breeze. Even the wounded Liangshan bandits held prisoner at the dockside couldn’t help but relax their bodies in their cages, showing a little renewed vigor.

The string of upheavals from the previous night through to now had indeed brought a certain grim, martial air to the whole flotilla, but overall, the effect was limited. The earlier battle at Hongze Lake had been won so easily that it had already left everyone delighted and full of praise, and while this latest affair had genuinely given the many dignitaries aboard a real sense of danger the night before, the subsequent hunting-down and capture of the Liangshan men—netting over forty of them in the end—had once again diluted whatever tension remained.

For the many well-connected “second generation” young men aboard, this whole journey could already be counted as a thrillingly authentic escort experience—there had been danger, certainly, but no one had actually been hurt, and now it seemed the enemy amounted to little more than paper tigers. Having lived through it firsthand, they now had all the more to boast about to others.

Some things were easy to foresee: once these ships reached Bian Liang, word of their having twice repelled bandits would surely become the talk of the town. The whole purpose of their journey to the capital had been to make the rounds during this birthday celebration—visiting, courting favor, building connections—and this experience now gave them an even better opening for it.

Because of this, although there was still some worry that more bandits might come, even those who left the ships stayed close, wandering only along the nearby embankments and paddies, snacking here and there. Most people still more or less kept to the rules, staying within the guarded perimeter and not adding to the burden of the accompanying troops—though, of course, that was only relative to how much trouble they normally caused.

Aboard the brightly lit main ship, people discussed the foolhardy Liangshan bandits, and talked of how the next day the bandits would have their legs broken and be left to bake to death in the sun. For most, the whole affair was thrilling, though a small number did think it too cruel, or began to raise the question of whether, without a proper trial or registration with the authorities, Chen Jingui had any right to carry out such an execution. Among this group, an even smaller handful leaned toward the view that the Liangshan men truly were noble bandits who robbed the rich to help the poor, and that it would be a pity to have them executed like this—Zhou Pei, moving through the crowd, quietly noted down everyone who expressed such sentiments.

That people from the “rich” side of things might turn around and sympathize with those who robbed the rich was not so strange, in itself. Most of those traveling north on these ships were the wealthy second and third generations of well-off households, and it wasn’t uncommon for their heads to be filled with all sorts of romantic notions—even a longing for the free and unfettered life of the greenwood heroes, or a disdain for their own families’ “wealth without benevolence.” There were also those, mostly women, who felt pity after seeing the wretched state of the wounded prisoners in their cages. Of course, in this era there was no concept of human rights to speak of, so few thought to actually send a physician down to treat the captives’ wounds.

Of the forty-three captured, thirty-nine were rank-and-file bandits, and their condition, it must be said, was extremely pitiful. The lightly wounded went unattended; the severely wounded received only the barest treatment before being left to fend for themselves. After a day in the heat, their wounds had begun to fester, flies swarming over them—a truly gruesome sight. It was for this reason that, after dinner, while everyone was enjoying the cool evening air on deck, when Yuan Jin’er decided to go below and take a look at the captured men, Ning Yi spoke up to stop her.

“Don’t go. It’s not a pretty sight, and seeing it will just make you feel sorry for them, which will only make you feel worse.”

“I wouldn’t feel sorry for those people.” Jin’er, who had just been about to pull Yun Zhu below deck with her, tilted her chin up and then said, “Would you feel sorry for them?”

Ning Yi smiled where he stood on deck. “It’s just projecting your own fears onto them. Right now it seems like nothing, but… their skulls are cracked open, their arms and legs broken, bone and blood and flesh exposed, flies crawling all over them, and they’re crying out, wailing, kowtowing on the ground. You’d still end up thinking they’re pitiful. I went and looked myself, and it didn’t sit well with me either.”

“Oh?” Jin’er looked at him for a long moment. Yun Zhu blinked, seeming a little surprised herself, while Xiao Chan beside them wore an expression of “so our son-in-law has this side to him too,” though on reflection she supposed it made sense.

“But… you’re still glad about it, aren’t you?”

“A bit of both.” Ning Yi leaned on the railing, letting the breeze blow over him, and smiled. “There’s no such thing as a purely irredeemable villain. People are like that—when they’re suffering and begging for mercy, you can’t help but feel some pity for them. Some of them will claim they had no choice, and you might even find yourself sympathizing. But in the end, it comes down to what they actually did. When they were strong and hadn’t been caught yet, they went into people’s homes, killed, burned, looted—and if there was time, and they caught hold of a woman… it was these very men who did such things. I know you two won’t feel sorry for them, but seeing those wounds will still turn your stomach—that’s just instinct. No need to make yourselves suffer over it.”

His gaze lingered on Yun Zhu and the others for a moment, though in the end he didn’t say what happens to a woman caught by such men. In truth, on the day the Su household had been invaded, several such incidents had occurred, and Ning Yi had personally ordered them suppressed afterward, never made public—hoping only to give the survivors some way to go on living. And yet, in the time before they set out north, one of Su Tan’er’s cousin-aunts had still hanged herself. Xiao Chan knew of this; Yun Zhu and Jin’er did not.

After Ning Yi said all this, the women gave up the idea of going to gawk at the prisoners. But after a moment, Yun Zhu asked, “I heard them say that if these prisoners are to be sentenced to death, it has to go through the courts—reviewed level by level, registered with the proper authorities. If you really kill them, won’t General Chen and you, Liheng, be blamed for it?”

Ning Yi shook his head. “That’s true in principle, but there are special circumstances too. With the Birthday Convoy heading north right now, and the situation as unstable as it is, who knows how many parties have their eyes on this shipment. If we keep them under guard all the way to the capital, it might drive the Liangshan men to take a desperate gamble and go after the convoy again—maybe even bring the trouble all the way to Bian Liang. With the Empress Dowager’s birthday coming up, the pressure from every side is enormous, and it’s better to avoid adding more trouble than to court it. If we kill them, even if they hold a grudge, they’ll go back to Liangshan to seek revenge there instead. In matters like this, the principle that a general in the field need not follow every order from the court still holds—we can get away with it.”

Having said this, Ning Yi glanced at Yun Zhu and smiled. In truth, Yun Zhu wasn’t particularly invested in the matter for its own sake—she’d only brought it up because she’d heard others discussing it and felt some concern. Ning Yi went on, “Of course, if someone wants to make trouble over it, there could still be difficulties. But no matter what, we can’t leave the escaped Liangshan men any hope or reason to try a rescue. For the sake of the Birthday Convoy, for the young masters and misses on this ship, and for the safety of Bian Liang during the birthday celebrations—it all comes down to that.”

Jin’er thought it over. “But that doesn’t stop them from coming to rescue their people anyway, does it…”

“I can stop them. Because I’m faster than they are.”

“Then why not just kill them tonight?”

“Heh…” Ning Yi laughed. “You’ll understand once tonight’s over.”

As they talked, the breeze kept blowing, cool through the night. The people on deck enjoying the cool air were mostly accompanying stewards, household managers, and various families large and small—children running back and forth lent a lively air to the ship. As the night deepened, the mood aboard settled along with the receding heat. Ning Yi and the others returned to their cabins, where maids and wives brought cool water for washing before everyone settled down to sleep. Different cabins held different scenes—some whispering quietly, some laughing and chatting, and some couples simply lying quietly together, letting the stillness of being close ease away the day’s restlessness.

It was at this hour that a few figures crouched hidden among the reeds along the distant riverbank, watching the ship as it gradually settled into quiet, murmuring to one another in low voices.

“…No matter what, moving rashly with just the few of us wouldn’t work. That Ning Liheng will have prepared for everything. All we can do is head north with them and wait for… a chance to turn their own scheme against them…”

“What do you mean, head north with them? They’re going to execute people tomorrow! Even if we save the Squire after his legs are broken, what good would that do? Brother Zhu, you can wait—I can’t…”

“Brother Yan.” Zhu Wu gripped Yan Qing’s shoulder from behind. “Acting rashly won’t accomplish anything.”

“But Brother Yan’s right—we can’t wait any longer,” Zhang Shun cut in.

“If you trust me, then we wait.” Compared to before, there was a new resolve in Zhu Wu’s expression this time. “The reason they put out word like this is precisely to make us feel we can’t wait, to force us into acting rashly and walking straight into their trap… All we can do is gamble that he won’t actually dare go through with it.”

“Gamble how?”

“No matter who it is, a death sentence must first go through the courts, then be sent up to the imperial court for the Emperor’s review, then registered, and only carried out after autumn assizes. Anyone who executes a sentence without waiting for the memorial to be approved is sentenced to exile two thousand li. They wouldn’t dare do such a thing—this is just meant to frighten us!”

His words left the other two stunned for a moment. “But if…”

“And even if this Ning Liheng really is some kind of madman, this isn’t only about him—there’s also Chen Jingui aboard that ship. If this matter is brought to light, plenty of people will have to answer for it, and that’s a burden they can’t afford. Ning Liheng is nothing but a matrilocal son-in-law by status—however deep his connections run, others won’t stand with him on something like this. He can’t decide this alone, which means he can’t kill them. Brother Yan, if he really meant to kill them, why wait until tomorrow instead of starting today? He’s waiting for us to come and watch—if you act on impulse now, you’ll be playing right into his hands!”

“…But… what if he really is that kind of madman…”

“We have no choice but to gamble.”

The group fell silent for a moment before Zhang Shun spoke. “Brother Zhu’s right. We have to gamble. So what do we do next, Brother Zhu? Tell us.”

Zhu Wu looked toward the dock, swallowing hard. “We watch them closely—there’s no other way. If they head north, we head north too. Brother Yan, you know the ship well—see if there are any openings we can exploit. These people all have status and standing; there’s no way Ning Liheng can keep every one of them in line. That’s where our opportunity lies. We look for his weaknesses, study how he operates. Right now we have no shortcuts—we can only work the problem slowly. I’ve been thinking, along this stretch to Bian Liang, three to five more days’ travel, there are a couple of places where we could test the waters…”

He paused. “His status will always be a real problem in the end. No matter how much he’s accomplished, the moment he has his men doing the slow, grinding work, there will be those who grow resentful. They’re out in the open; we’re in the shadows—that’s our only advantage. In these coming days, he’ll have his men on high alert, guarding against everything, so we’ll let the brothers heading back to Shandong make their trail as visible as possible, to make it look like we’ve already left. Ning Liheng won’t fall for it, but his men underneath him—there’s bound to be an opening somewhere. Officials of the court, doing things half-heartedly as always—I don’t believe they can really keep themselves wound tight day and night matching wits with us…”

Having resolved to go head-to-head with Ning Yi, he had spent this half-day weighing every strength and weakness on both sides, working out possible ways to break the deadlock. Though it wasn’t yet anything like a fully fleshed-out plan, the logic behind it was still clear. The three of them crouched there a long while as Zhu Wu finished laying it all out. By now the night wind had picked up, the wilderness around them dim and dark. Suddenly, something aboard the ship caught Yan Qing’s eye, and he murmured, “Look.”

Of the three, Zhu Wu excelled at strategy and clear reasoning, while Yan Qing had the keenest instincts and quickest reactions. What he’d spotted was a faint flicker of firelight on the side of the ship. At this distance, none of them could tell exactly what was happening, but as they crept closer, at some point, dark figures suddenly leapt down from the ship’s side.

The three of them were startled—however they imagined things, none had expected this. As they watched, several shadowy figures dropped down one after another, then vanished into the darkness. Yan Qing immediately guessed it was a prison break and moved to go help, but Zhu Wu held him back. “Wait. This isn’t impossible, but something about it feels off. Let’s watch a little longer first… and besides, Brother Yan, there’s nothing you could do by rushing over there now…”

His reasoning made sense—mostly the latter part—and it was enough to make Yan Qing hold himself back. Then, only a moment later, a gong suddenly sounded aboard the ship, and someone shouted, “The prisoners are escaping! The prisoners are escaping!” The whole little dock erupted at once.

By now, quite a few had already broken free from the dockside, and it was clear that those who had escaped from the great ship had gone on to free their Liangshan brothers held in the cages nearby. But it seemed they’d only managed to free about half before being discovered, and in an instant, fighting had broken out. Only ten or twenty made it out, and none dared stay to fight—they turned and fled with everything they had, though several were still shot down by arrows along the way.

Zhang Shun and Yan Qing immediately wanted to rush in and help; Zhu Wu, from behind, tried to hold them back to see how things would unfold. In truth, he understood well enough himself—however skilled a strategist Ning Yi was, that didn’t mean he could turn every one of the court’s soldiers into an elite fighter. However good the scheme, there were always slip-ups among the men carrying it out; that was only natural. A moment later, they heard someone shout through the darkness, “Catch them! Don’t let Lu Junyi get away!” Only then did Zhu Wu’s heart finally settle. “It’s fine—let’s move in and back them up!” Astonished as he was by this stroke of luck, his doubts had mostly faded.

As they gave chase, Zhang Shun asked quietly how he’d known things were fine now. Zhu Wu said, “Squire Lu is our second-in-command. If the court knows his name, they surely know his standing too. Capturing him alone would already be a guaranteed, ironclad achievement—no one there would want to risk using the Squire as bait… Still, we need to be even more careful going forward. We must proceed with the utmost caution.”

What he said made sense, and Zhang Shun nodded, hurrying on after him. Amid the night, the soldiers near the dock gave chase, closing in from all sides. But among those who’d escaped was indeed Lu Junyi, along with a few skilled chieftains, and even the rank-and-file among them were elite fighters. In the chase, several more were killed, but Lu Junyi and the others still managed to plunge into the darkness. Yan Qing and the others had horses waiting nearby, and soon caught up to guide the escape.

The Xuzhou troops that had been mobilized earlier to hunt down the Liangshan men couldn’t reach them in time now. The three hundred-odd marines aboard the ships did have some fighting strength, but only one or two hundred could be spared for pursuit. Once Lu Junyi and the others plunged into the night and gradually opened the distance, it was like a dragon returning to the sea—there was no way to sweep them up now the way thousands of troops once could. But this time, the soldiers under Chen Jingui’s command also knew that failing to catch them would be a grave mistake, and they clung to the chase for nearly two hours straight before Lu Junyi, Yan Qing and the others finally, truly, put real distance between themselves and their pursuers.

By now it was already past midnight, and the group kept fleeing onward. Along the way, Zhu Wu asked what exactly had happened, and only then learned that the reason they’d escaped was, of all things, thanks to Yan Shun, “Brocade-Furred Tiger.” Yan Shun had some skill in martial arts, though nothing especially remarkable by Liangshan’s standards. The men aboard the ship, having captured Lu Junyi, had likely focused most of their attention on him, not realizing that Yan Shun, having spent years mixing in the underworld, had a few tricks of his own. After being captured, he’d found a small opportunity to sneak hold of half a length of thick wire, and had gradually worked it into the lock, finally finding his chance to escape deep in the night. Along the way he’d freed Chen Da and Zheng Tianshou, and eventually even freed Lu Junyi himself—truly, heaven had favored Liangshan, and that was how tonight’s events had come to pass.

All four of them were skilled fighters, and along the way they’d struck down a dozen-odd men without drawing attention. They’d meant to free all their captured brothers, but were eventually discovered—still, what had happened was already the best outcome they could have hoped for. As the men recounted what had happened, morale surged through the group, and their pace never slowed as they pressed on in flight.

Though they’d survived and were glad of it, they had already suffered greatly at Ning Yi’s hands and dared not linger. Along the way, they stayed especially alert for any sign of pursuit behind them. These were all seasoned men of the martial world, and now they exercised the utmost caution. Nearly another hour passed, winding this way and that, before they finally reunited with Lü Fang, Sun Xin, and the several dozen survivors who had relocated.

This time, they didn’t dare celebrate. Once reunited, they quickly began moving again. After another ten-some li of travel, they would reach the relatively bustling outskirts of Xuzhou territory, where it would be much harder to find a safe, hidden spot. Judging they’d put enough distance behind them, and after scouting and setting up watch, they finally stopped to rest. By this point, everyone—having endured two days of fighting, fleeing, and various wounds, nerves stretched taut the whole while—was on the verge of physical collapse.

They had been running for their lives without pause the whole way, thoroughly spent, but they had also put considerable distance between themselves and the dock. It was now the darkest hour before dawn; before long, roosters would crow and dogs bark in the distance, and the sky would begin to pale. The group found a hunter’s cabin in a stretch of rugged mountain terrain, remote enough to be considered safe from prying eyes. Lü Fang and the others, who had rested earlier in the afternoon, went out to stand watch, and only then could Zhu Wu and the rest finally breathe easy enough to begin talking and celebrating.

Talking and tending further to the wounded also happened in darkness—they dared not show any light. Yan Shun laughed as he recounted the lucky turns of their escape, and spoke too of how thoroughly that Ning Liheng had been humiliated this time.

“I’d love to see the look on that fellow’s face right about now…”

“Either way, once I get back to Liangshan, my next stop is Jiangning. I will have my revenge for this!”

“Say no more—I’m coming with you.”

“Drag him back to Liangshan, and I’ll carve his heart out with my own hands in front of the Hall of Righteousness, to comfort the spirits of our brothers in heaven!”

“If you ask me…”

“Aaahh—!”

The words were cut off as a scream tore violently through the night sky. Everyone scrambled up from the ground at once. Though the cabin was built of wood and thatch, its windows stood open, and something came streaking through the night sky, falling toward them.

It was light.

Fire-arrows cut across the night, whistling down, scattering across the wooden cabin, across the grass, falling into the gaps between the trees.

The clash of weapons could already be heard not far off. Lü Fang shouted from the other side, “Go! Go!”

Figures came surging out of the darkness, cutting them down.

The moment the men burst from the cabin, chaos and slaughter were already closing in on every side. Judging by where the fire-arrows had come from, it might not have been a force of several thousand, but it still far outnumbered Liangshan’s few dozen men—and Liangshan’s men, at that, were already wounded and exhausted.

Lü Fang swung his halberd, cutting his way out of the trees at breakneck speed, when suddenly a thunderous boom sounded, and a burst of blood bloomed outward. Lü Fang’s strength on Liangshan was no small thing, but he was already wounded, and in the darkness two arrows had struck him. In the desperate, fierce fighting, following that boom, he let out a bitter, anguished cry as blood burst from his back. Then a spear swept across him, sending him staggering backward, and he could only brace himself upright with his halberd.

Ning Yi and the others strode forward out of the darkness on that side.

From the very first moment, the entire clash had erupted at its most violent pitch—nothing like the mocking applause of before. But to the Liangshan men, it felt like darkness crashing down on them like a collapsing mountain. Ning Yi had not paused for a single step since he first appeared; even now, standing before them, he lowered the firearm in his hand and kept advancing, his expression cold as ice—this time, without question, it was pure, unrelenting killing intent.

Lü Fang’s stomach had by now likely been torn apart, but he let out a roar and forced himself forward anyway. Ning Yi strode over, and with a sweep of both hands, caught the halberd swinging toward him with one hand while, with the other, brought his war blade down hard onto Lü Fang’s chest. The blow was enough to shatter bone. He reversed the blade and struck again, severing Lü Fang’s arm—blood sprayed across the sky. Lü Fang’s body was then kicked backward by Qi Xinhan, who had rushed up from behind.

“Aaargh—!” Zhu Wu’s eyes blazed with fury as he reached back and drew the twin blades from behind him.

On the other side, Ning Yi was speaking as well, his voice carrying through the night. “‘Little Warlord’ Lü Fang! ‘Little Yuchi’ Sun Xin! ‘White Stripe in the Waves’ Zhang Shun… so you really didn’t leave after all. They say if you don’t court death, death won’t come for you—why couldn’t you understand that!”

He strode forward, grabbed hold of Lü Fang’s hair—in truth, Lü Fang was only still moving on the last reflexes of a body already collapsing backward, blood still spurting from him though he was likely already dead. His body, halfway to the ground, was now held up one-handed by Ning Yi, who then reversed his blade once more and, with a burst of force from his Breaking Six Blade technique, struck downward with a thud, severing his head clean off. The head sailed through the air like a cannonball, thrown by Ning Yi, and struck the wall of the cabin beside the others. It thudded to the ground.

“Lu Junyi, Yan Qing, ‘Sagacious Military Advisor’ Zhu Wu! What exactly were you all thinking? Over this past half month, I’ve made over two hundred plans and decisions all because of you worthless scum…”

One of Liangshan’s elite fighters charged forward, only to have his chest run through by a spear. Ning Yi kicked the body away and kept closing in.

“…You’re not even a hundred li from me right now, and you actually thought your lives were safe!?”