Sunlight streamed in through the window.
He sat there, looking at his own hands, closed his eyes, and could see blood.
Fire, blood, wailing, corpses—the slaughter of tens of thousands.
Liangshan, Liangshan, Liangshan…
Lin Chong, Lu Junyi, Shi Wengong…
Zeng Family Market…
These things would keep coming back to him. Some of it might never be achievable—Liangshan had already grown too strong. But the wound in his chest, at least, had finally healed.
He took a breath, rose from where he sat, and finally picked up the octagonal bronze-cored staff leaning against the wall, placing it into the long bag on his back. He walked out the door.
May. The light of day was pale and washed out.
……
Southwest Shandong, near Jizhou, the eight-hundred-li marshland.
As the common saying goes, the mix of dialects converges in central Shanxi. The Wu Dynasty was prosperous, but taking present-day Bian Liang as the boundary, north of the Yellow River, the splendor of the south gradually gave way. From here all the way to the desolate Lüliang Mountains, officials, merchants, mountain bandits, and outlaws had formed their own ecosystem—more orderly than areas like Lüliang or the Yanmen Pass region, but showing its own fierce, unruly character compared to the south. Similar conditions existed in areas far from the Wu Dynasty’s center in the south as well, such as the Miao territories.
Directly north of Bian Liang, all the way to the Yanmen Pass area, thanks to the flow of trade routes, government control remained fairly strong. But once outside these proper trade routes, the situation was another matter entirely. The eastern and western circuits of Shandong had long been known for their fierce local character, and with government control lacking, smuggling and banditry had always flourished there, impossible to fully suppress.
The prevalence of smuggling and banditry naturally led to hardship for the common people. Heading east from Bian Liang into Shandong territory, once past the banks of the Yellow River, an entirely different landscape from the south came into view.
It was mid-May, the sun fierce, and what met the eye was mostly wild, desolate hills. Villages and farmland were sparse, and even the official roads showed signs of long neglect. Few travelers were on the roads—mostly merchants, escort guards, and armed men of the outlaw world. Naturally, none of the elegant heroics seen in later-era wuxia films—people mostly wore shabby, rustic clothing, hair and beards unkempt, weapons wrapped in cloth. As they walked, their eyes carried a weary, lifeless look, as if perpetually sleep-deprived. When stopping to rest or eat, they’d first scan everyone in sight with wary eyes, sizing up who was an enemy, who was easy prey, and who was too poor to bother with.
In the south, even among outlaw circles, such a scene wouldn’t arise, because the south, after all, was still overwhelmingly populated by ordinary civilians. Here, the proportion of people who lived by the blade was far higher than in the south. The saying went that even innocent carters, boatmen, shopkeepers, and runners deserved death here—and in this region, that would hardly wrong too many people.
The Wu Dynasty’s economy was well developed, and even here, money remained the core of everything. Smuggling in salt, iron, and tea, and all manner of shady dealings—wherever there was profit, someone would be there to make it. Driven by various interests, outside official government structures, all sizes of local associations formed the mainstream power here—not grand, famous sects, but mostly organized around village strongholds.
Large ones, like Zeng Family Market, already destroyed by Liangshan, or mid-sized ones like Dulong Ridge and Wanjia Ridge. As for small ones, they were countless—villages and bandit gangs beyond counting. Villagers could only organize their own strength if they hoped to survive and farm here. And capable young men, if a few like-minded ones banded together, could rally a local following, either raiding merchant caravans or collecting protection fees from villages. Once someone had their own territory, they’d inevitably dip, to some degree, into gray-area business. This web of unspoken rules connected regions large and small into a single fabric.
This kind of ecosystem stretched all the way north, until reaching the Wu-Liao border regions, areas like the Lüliang Mountains, where things finally changed—where the entire normal commercial system had essentially collapsed, where even the few remaining villages had fully merged with mountain strongholds, a lawless land where following the rules meant you couldn’t survive at all.
And in recent times, the marsh stronghold of Liangshan, having become the foremost stronghold in the region, had grown ever more formidable after raising the banner of “Acting on Heaven’s Behalf.”
Every day, every hour, more outlaws came flocking to join, seeing which way the wind blew. Among them were no shortage of remnants from Fang La’s forces crushed at Hangzhou, even mid- and low-ranking officers, along with all sorts of desperate outlaws. Several previous rescues of Fang La’s followers had genuinely built Liangshan’s reputation, and even though the plot to rob the birthday gift convoy on the canal had failed, it had unmistakably signaled Liangshan’s stance. With Tong Guan’s great army forced north to deal with the northern campaign, and Fang La’s side still struggling to hold on, many sharp-eyed observers saw a different kind of hope, pinning their expectations for rebellion on this Shandong region instead.
As for the minor setbacks involving the Su family of Jiangning and the birthday gift convoy affair—although the return of Lin Chong, Zhu Wu, and others to Liangshan had caused some stir, especially the canal incident where several chieftains were killed, including even Lu Junyi, the second-in-command, who lost his life at that time—these were attributed simply to the enemy’s cunning and bad luck. Song Jiang wept bitterly in the Hall of Righteousness, donning mourning clothes and vowing to avenge Brother Lu one day. Though a few at the time suggested that, given how formidable this man was, they might consider luring him up the mountain to give him a seat of honor, this once fairly mainstream proposal did not gain approval.
A matrilocal son-in-law, however lucky he’d gotten away with it twice, such cleverness could only be despicable and vile—the good men of the mountain scorned to associate with such trash. Besides, Second Brother Lu and several other brothers had died at his hands; should the chance ever arise to capture him, he would certainly be bound before the Hall of Righteousness and subjected to death by a thousand cuts. Song Jiang had sworn this blood oath on the spot. With such a solemn pledge of brotherhood behind it, no one doubted it would eventually be carried out—it was only a matter of time.
With so many heroes gathering and their momentum ever growing, few considered this much of an issue. Even the handful who’d defected from Fang La’s forces had mentioned this Ning Liheng fellow, but even within Fang La’s ranks, few knew much of what Ning Yi had actually done. Most impressions were limited to his having seduced the sword-wielding chieftain Liu Xigua, and as for killing Bao Daoyi, that was seen merely as something he’d managed only because his scheme succeeded under the protection of the Overlord Blade Manor.
Overlord Blade Manor of Tiannan carried some renown even in northern outlaw circles. But even taken together, all these matters amounted, in the mouths of most, to little more than scorn and contempt for this matrilocal son-in-law—a strategic dismissal. Those truly at the top wouldn’t overlook the existence of such an opponent, but no matter how one looked at it, unless someone prepared caught them unprepared, they didn’t believe their own side would suffer such a defeat. Especially now that they were back at Liangshan, dealing with matters that had truly escalated to the level of national affairs, of rebellion itself—those without direct experience of him had no reason to worry over some figure far off in the capital. Surely this fellow, having gone up to the capital, was just running around crying about his family being wiped out.
As for those who’d previously clashed directly with Ning Yi—men like Lin Chong and Li Kui—or those who’d suffered losses because of him, like Zhu Wu and Zhang Shun, whatever they privately thought was another matter entirely, known only to themselves. Even they wouldn’t have imagined he might come to Liangshan seeking revenge.
If he could bring a great army, that would be one thing—Liangshan had long prepared to face off against government forces again. But if not, a single man coming alone would be nothing short of suicide, not vengeance. Faced with such overwhelming momentum, they simply didn’t need to consider such a possibility. The name Ning Liheng was just one small, not particularly urgent matter among the many things occupying Liangshan these days.
With their momentum growing daily, what Liangshan was currently focused on was expanding its influence outward, extending its reach across the entire area surrounding the marsh, even the whole of Jizhou.
Under Liangshan’s current might, many surrounding estates and villages had, in fact, already secretly pledged allegiance, bending with the wind. But a few, like Dulong Ridge, mid-to-large-sized strongholds, along with numerous small, stubbornly independent villages and horse bandits, still weren’t willing to give up their carefree ways of life. Among these, some had even actively taken up opposition to Liangshan—the notoriously infamous “Wolf Bandits,” for example, were a prime case, more or less obstructing Liangshan’s current expansion.
These were the real matters Liangshan needed to attend to in the near term, with mental preparations already made for handling both major and minor conflicts, big and small affairs. And it was in this atmosphere that this seemingly distant, seemingly unlikely-to-materialize little disturbance—unnoticed by nearly everyone—naturally made its way here after more than ten days in Bian Liang, closing in on Liangshan.
At present, few could have predicted what impact this small disturbance would have on the mighty Liangshan—perhaps not even the disturbance itself could fully anticipate everything at this point. On the evening of May fifteenth, in a small town called Yuan Family Market, in a run-down inn room, a man named Ning Yi sat holding a large bowl, eating while chatting with others about something he’d just discovered.
“That… person called Luan Tingyu, what’s going on with him? Why do they say he’s disappeared?”
Ning Yi wasn’t familiar with what had happened at Dulong Ridge, but he vaguely recalled that this person seemed quite formidable, likely the strongest fighter there. Having just read something and come across this name, briefly noting he’d once been an instructor at the Zhu Family Manor and was now said to have disappeared, he asked the Qi brothers and others who’d also seen the material.
The first to answer was Su Wenyu, who’d followed along the whole way. He too was struggling to eat, the food being rather poor. “Didn’t they say… last year when Liangshan attacked Zeng Family Market, this man apparently knew Shi Wengong, so he left the Zhu Family Manor to go help. Later, when Shi Wengong was captured and killed at Liangshan, no one knew where he went.”
“…Oh.” Ning Yi chewed on the coarse rice with effort, then nodded indifferently. He didn’t know the man, so it was just idle curiosity.
“By the way, Liheng, we really are heading to Dulong Ridge, right?” After a moment, Qi Xinyong asked.
“Mm.”
“I’ve been part of a rebellion before, and there’s something I wonder if you’ve considered. Places like this—the people there might not be few in number, but most of them value their lives too much. They’ll defend with real effort, but attacking, actually fighting hard, especially against Liangshan, that’s much harder to muster. Even if we can incite them, victory is hard to come by.”
“I’ve considered it.” Ning Yi nodded. “Winning has to rely on something else. They’re just the finishing touch.”
“That’s what I thought—Liheng, you keep talking about Dulong Ridge, but you don’t seem all that invested in gathering intelligence on it.”
“I’m mostly interested in a certain woman at Dulong Ridge…”
“What?”
Hearing this reason, everyone stopped eating, their expressions somewhat astonished. Ning Yi smiled and shook his head at their misunderstanding.
“Just using them along the way, too. Of course, first we need to rendezvous with that Wang Shanyue—have we already left the marker?” He thought for a moment, then looked somewhat puzzled. “That’s something I heard about today by chance—the reputation of that ‘Wolf Bandit’ around here is a bit strange… eating people…”
At the same moment, outside the Hall of Righteousness at Liangshan, Xi Junyu walked down the steps, fists clenched, gazing toward the distant setting sun.
Just because of these incompetent fools, he’d actually been excluded from the decision-making circle. The Su family’s failure had clearly been their own doing, yet they were obviously shutting him out.
Attacking Dulong Ridge, sure, victory was assured—but if they lost too many men in the process, this whole bunch would answer for it later…
But at least one thing was good—more people were joining every day, and Liangshan would only grow stronger. One day, he’d make Su Tan’er and that matrilocal bastard kneel before him. Even if he accepted amnesty, he’d still hold official rank, while they could only ride on others’ coattails…
He took a breath, thinking this over. Meanwhile, Zhu Wu came down from the other side. Seeing him, Xi Junyu turned and walked off in another direction.
Zhu Wu saw Xi Junyu too, and in that instant, both of them were surely thinking of the same person. Whether it was revenge or the washing away of humiliation, that day might come eventually—though it might well be a long time yet.
In any case, it wasn’t something that needed considering in the near term.
…Just wait.
Zhu Wu thought to himself, seeing that face rushing toward him in his mind’s eye.
“You’re not even a hundred li from me now, and you actually think your lives are safe!”
Come to Liangshan if you dare…
Of course, he knew that was impossible. After gritting his teeth over the thought, he shook his head, forcing the image from his mind. He sighed, surprised at himself for entertaining such a childish notion—better to focus on real matters. Sooner or later, their paths would cross again, and he would kill him then…