The Red-Haired Devil, Liu Tang, was dead.

Close to daybreak, a patrolling soldier discovered that something was wrong in Liu Tang’s tent. Two days earlier, in the fighting at Dulong Ridge, Liu Tang had been caught in a pincer by Luan Tingyu and Zhu Biao, taking a heavy blow to the shoulder from Luan Tingyu’s staff, and had spent these past two days resting in his tent. Making his rounds in the small hours, the patrolling soldier noticed that the guard who should have been posted outside Liu Tang’s tent was nowhere to be seen — not so unusual an occurrence within Liangshan’s ranks in itself — but he still glanced into the tent, and then caught the scent of blood.

Liu Tang, recovering from his wound, had been beheaded, along with the attendant caring for him and the soldier guarding the tent, all three dead together inside.

The Liangshan camp had not been at peace these past two nights; the hastily imposed discipline had not produced immediate results, though the minor and mid-level commanders had tightened their grip somewhat on the men below them, so that despite the tense atmosphere, most had remained fairly disciplined. Yet no one had expected that, in barely more than two days, the disturbance the enemy had unleashed would spread directly to a figure at the commander level.

The Red-Haired Devil Liu Tang was a formidable fighter, one of the founding elder statesmen of Liangshan who had risen alongside Chao Gai; even after leadership passed to Song Jiang, no one had ever dared treat him lightly. When word of this reached Wu Yong and the others and they hurried over, Song Jiang was already weeping before Liu Tang’s body.

“Who did this, who did this — my brother Liu Tang… I must have my brother Liu Tang’s head back! Find whoever did this, and I, Song Jiang, will have him hacked to a thousand pieces!”

The words could be spoken with all the weight in the world, but on a practical level, everyone who heard the news found themselves at a loss, hesitant.

Who had done it? And where was the head now?

Tracing the first question was certain to prove enormously complicated, and as for the second, for the moment all they could do was assume the head might still be somewhere in the camp — but a full-scale search of the camp would cause far too much disruption. Dai Zong immediately ordered his men to investigate thoroughly, questioning the soldiers directly under Liu Tang in the nearby tents about the events of the previous night. But since Liu Tang’s injury required quiet and rest, most had either turned in early or gone to other tents; these personal guards, of no small standing themselves, were hard to press too firmly under military law, and after questioning, nothing useful turned up.

That the deed had been carried out without anyone noticing, and that investigating it proved this difficult, suggested the culprit’s standing within the camp must run remarkably deep. But for the moment, no one dared say this thought aloud; everyone kept it pressed down inside, because however likely it seemed, it remained only a possibility, and voicing it would only stir up the ranks for nothing — that vile enemy might well be roaring with laughter at the very thought.

Back in the main tent, everyone could, for now, only suppress the matter. Thanks to prompt information control, news of Liu Tang’s death had not yet spread too widely among the mid-level commanders; the senior leaders who knew of it had all ordered their men to keep silent, at least for the time being, to keep the matter contained.

For now, the investigation would have to remain internal. With Zhu Family Manor’s room to maneuver nearly gone, it was estimated that within half a day at most, preparations for the final assault on the manor would begin. After dawn, Liangshan’s forces began deploying on a large scale, preparing to clear away the last of the manor’s defenses so the army could fully deploy around it. That same morning, Luan Tingyu and the others were still releasing prisoners, wave after wave.

By midmorning, Wu Yong and Song Jiang stood outside the main tent watching the progress of the battle, waiting as reports trickled in one after another, with some commanders who had come back to rest gathering nearby. Dai Zong suddenly arrived leading a group of men, glancing around with a grave expression before approaching to speak with Wu Yong and Song Jiang. Song Jiang, assuming he’d brought news of Liu Tang’s killer, stepped forward eagerly. “Chief Dai, have you caught the culprit?”

“Not yet… there’s something I need to discuss with you, Brother. This man is one of the soldiers sent back by the other side…”

“Oh.” Song Jiang nodded, forcing himself to keep a pleasant expression. “Well then…”

His original thought had been that, since the man had been sent back, they should simply proceed as usual. But Dai Zong’s hesitant expression suggested he didn’t want the other commanders nearby drawn into this — though in truth, everyone had already noticed him. Song Jiang said, “Whatever it is, Chief Dai, just say it.”

Dai Zong gritted his teeth. “Brother Liu Tang’s head… is at Zhu Family Manor…”

Song Jiang froze where he stood; though he had already braced himself somewhat, his face still twisted with the shock. Before he could speak, Dai Zong continued, “That Lei Feng… he had this man deliver a message — the one who did it was a senior commander within our own camp…”

Liangshan had no shortage of leaders, and though no formal ranking of the Heavenly Spirits and Earthly Fiends had yet been established, there was still, in everyone’s minds, a general sense of who stood where. Hearing this, Song Jiang roared with fury. “Such bald-faced, shameless slander, such bald-faced, shameless slander — as if I would believe him! He’s clearly trying to drive a wedge between me and my brothers! Once I take Zhu Family Manor, I will personally have this man flayed alive!”

Upon learning of Liu Tang’s death, everyone present flew into a rage; some rushed out at once, eager to lead troops back into the assault. Yet many in the group also felt some confusion at Dai Zong’s behavior — normally so shrewd, and yet here he was, speaking such words openly in front of everyone. But from where Dai Zong stood, he understood that talk of this kind had likely already spread through the camp; he stood there a moment longer, then finally added, “This man… also brought some other words with him. I think Brother Gongming and the strategist should hear them. What he says is deeply vicious, but I’m afraid… it can’t be suppressed.”

Song Jiang glanced at the prisoner, then turned and walked toward the main tent. “Then let everyone come in and hear it too — is there anything within my Liangshan camp that needs to be hidden from our brothers!”

Some of those present felt it made no difference whether they listened or not; others followed Song Jiang into the tent, each uneasy in his own way. No sooner had everyone sat down than someone rushed in to report that Zhu Family Manor had hung Liu Tang’s head on the outer wall, with people shouting that it had been delivered by a Liangshan man who’d defected. Song Jiang and the others fell silent for a long moment before turning to the returned prisoner. “What message did he have you deliver? Speak!”

The prisoner’s face was bitter as he looked around at everyone; after a moment, he finally began to speak, and before long, the mood within the tent had already changed entirely.

“…He said every single reaction inside the camp, he’d already calculated in advance — he told everyone to see it for themselves, whether it was true or not… that everyone already knows in their hearts, and that it’s only taken two or three days for the camp to turn into this — because the things we all thought looked so naive were traps he’d deliberately planted, and he chose the ground, and we’re the ones who dug the pit ourselves… He said this whole thing has been fully laid bare, and there’s nothing we can do about it — that some men have already defected, and there will only be more… And he said the strategist is… is…”

“Enough!”

Before he could finish, Song Jiang slammed his palm down on the table with a crack. Everyone knew instinctively that whatever the man had been about to say could not have been anything good. And yet, thinking it over, from the fifth day of the sixth month, the enemy had laid one trap after another, step by careful step, and by now, it seemed likely that nearly the entire middle and lower command structure of the Liangshan camp had already been infected by these seemingly naive claims. All it would take was for each of them to become aware of this themselves, and then look around at everyone else… Even the commanders in this very tent found this line of reasoning difficult to refute — so what, then, must the ordinary men be feeling?

“Such treasonous talk — has it, has it already spread through the camp…”

Song Jiang ground his teeth as he tried to ask, but one look at Dai Zong’s expression told him the answer already. It was precisely because Dai Zong realized the matter had already spread, and that any attempt at control was now futile, that he had allowed things to come to this point. “The last batch they released was roughly thirty-odd men — but only a dozen or so of them… have been contained. Most of them… are trusted men serving under our minor and mid-level commanders.”

Talk capable of leaving even the commanders in this tent unable to refute it — the men who heard it would, inevitably, feel that it “might” hold some truth. And even that mere possibility, even if none of them had ever truly betrayed Liangshan in their hearts, would still lead some to pass the word up the chain, if only to leave themselves and their brothers some way out, letting the higher-ups make the judgment call. Even knowing this wasn’t the right thing to do, they would think: others will do it anyway. Everyone in the tent understood this perfectly well — the matter could not possibly be contained. It was even likely that some commanders, both inside the tent and out, already knew of it; no one was simply willing to say so.

Wu Yong sat there, his face ashen, saying nothing, but anyone sitting to the side could see that one of his hands was trembling without pause. It was true — anyone facing something like this would feel this same suffocating frustration, unbearably so. From the fifth day of the sixth month onward, every single step had walked straight into the enemy’s trap. This side had originally prided itself on holding the overall advantage, believing that whatever schemes the enemy tried, there was no way to turn the tide. And yet, having come this far, now that the enemy’s design had truly struck at the very foundation of their own side, and the danger of it had become clear — everything felt different.

This was the nature of an exposed scheme — laying everything bare for you to hear. And today, it had reached its very peak: the enemy sat there, plainly announcing, I am sowing discord among you, and this is exactly how I’m doing it — what I say may all be lies, and yet you’ll still have to believe it, because if you don’t, someone else surely will, someone will surely betray you, because that’s exactly how they might already see you — because you all know full well, better than anyone, exactly what kind of state the Liangshan army is really in right now. And the more clearly you know it, the more thoroughly you’re finished.

Anyone capable of thinking it through at all had already fallen into the trap — and once caught in it, whether one chose to keep thinking about it or not made no difference at all.

It was an endless, inescapable loop.

News of Liu Tang’s death must already be spreading, and who knew how much discussion was already circulating through the camp. The enemy’s other words likely hadn’t spread on a large scale yet, but no doubt many commanders already had a good idea of what was being said. Wu Yong pressed his fingers to his forehead, trying to think of something to say, when suddenly a burst of shouting and argument sounded outside the tent. It didn’t last long, though — someone stepped in to mediate, and both sides seemed to hold themselves in check. After that, Li Kui and Wu Song, having just come from fighting outside, lifted the tent flap and entered, Li Kui still radiating hostility. Song Jiang forced down his emotions. “What’s happened?”

Li Kui set down his battle-axes without a word, his mouth working silently. Wu Song, beside him, hesitated a moment. “It’s Fan Rui and Xiang Chong — they’re looking for Brother Li Gun…”

Wu Yong’s gaze, somewhat dazed, turned toward them. “What’s happened to Brother Li?”

“He’s nowhere to be found right now. They went to ask his personal guards, and the guards said… the last time anyone saw Brother Li was late last night, when he went to check on Brother Liu Tang’s wound. He never came back after that. And Iron Bull, because of that, he…” — cursed a bit, at which Fan Rui had flared up at him.

The “Demon King of Chaos” Fan Rui and the “Eight-Armed Nezha” Xiang Chong had originally risen alongside the “Heaven-Flying Sage” Li Gun at Mangdang Mountain, later coming to Liangshan together; though their standing wasn’t especially high, the three of them remained close-knit. Li Kui, hot-tempered as always, had just come down from the battlefield, and after seeing Liu Tang’s severed head, was already in a foul mood; running into this on top of it, he’d blurted out a curse without thinking, and Fan Rui had immediately flared up at him: “You curse my brother, you dare curse my brother! My brother might already be dead too, for all we know!”

Wu Song had stepped in at the time, and both sides had held back somewhat. Now, still simmering, Li Kui spoke up. “That worthless bastard, if he…”

Song Jiang slammed the table with a crash. “Shut your mouth—!” The shout rang through the entire tent. For a moment, even Li Kui was startled into silence. Wu Yong’s jaw trembled as he murmured under his breath, “A scheme to sow discord… a scheme to sow discord…”

Lu Zhishen, who had been sitting to the side listening for some time, spoke up. “Going on like this, I doubt we can keep fighting much longer…”

There was already a suggestion of withdrawal in his words. Looking around, no one else seemed willing to speak for a moment. Wu Yong stood up. “No.”

His whole body was trembling slightly now. “A full assault — right now, all we can do is press forward with a full assault. Brother Gongming, brothers, if we don’t win this now, Liangshan is finished… Liangshan will be destroyed.”

The words spread through the tent like some unleashed nightmare, and everyone’s expressions shifted uneasily, exchanging uncertain glances. Outside the tent, plenty of others had already caught wind of how things were developing. Xi Junyu, who had meant to come into the main tent, had instead witnessed the clash between Li Kui and Fan Rui, and after listening outside a while longer, now raised his head. The early-June sky was bright and brilliant, and yet at this moment, a chill seemed to have settled over everything, clinging to every man present, sending a shiver down every spine. From the fifth of the sixth month until now, every single event had unfolded in plain sight, understood by all — and yet how it had all come to this point felt, to everyone, both perfectly transparent and impossibly, eerily incomprehensible. They had never seen anything like this before — had never even heard of anything like it.

“Three days… only three days…” Xi Junyu murmured quietly to himself.

From the afternoon of the fifth of the sixth month to the morning of the eighth — a scant three days. It felt less like a war being fought than like someone, on the other side, had unleashed the most vicious, uncanny nightmare imaginable. Under the sunlight, almost everyone who learned of what had happened found themselves reining in their horses, blades lowered, staring off toward Zhu Family Manor, feeling that chill settle over them, their minds going blank for a moment before they were left, utterly, not knowing which way to turn.

“How could this… how could this happen…”

The whole affair felt so absurd it was almost laughable, and no one wanted to believe it — and yet the nightmare was already crawling free from within people’s hearts, taking hold of their bodies, giving itself shape and form. One more step, and everyone would see it: all of this was about to become a monstrous, snarling reality…

What came next — advance, or retreat?

On the stone wall outside Zhu Family Manor, sunlight fell down over him as Ning Yi crouched behind a shield, watching the Liangshan camp in the distance, thinking things over for a long while.

“That should… even the score, then…”