In the tenth year of the Jinghan era, early in the seventh month, Yunzhou, Shandong.
Since the government troops had crushed Liangshan Island in mid-to-late sixth month, the flight of Song Jiang and his elite Liangshan forces through the Yunzhou region had already lasted half a month. It seemed that after waking from the frenzied rampage of the first ten-odd days, sometime around the seventh of the seventh month, the entire Liangshan military posture shifted, bringing the situation into a relatively eerie state of silence. In a sense, at least during this period, the Liangshan forces, directed by Wu Yong, Zhu Wu, and the others, carried out several rather brilliant tactical maneuvers.
From the battle at Dulong Ridge, where Liangshan had been struck down hard by Ning Yi at the very peak of his form, to the later reduction of their numbers to barely one in ten as they began their flight, what Liangshan faced was not, in fact, purely the desolate scene of everyone piling on a fallen enemy. Among the outlaws of this era, a code of honor still mattered, and once Liangshan had truly fallen into its darkest hour, there were still some willing to lend a hand in this time of need.
The region of Shandong around the marshes was, at least among the eastern and western routes of Shandong, one of the areas where government authority was weakest. This land was full of mountain strongholds and its people were fierce and hardy—places where five or six men with seven or eight blades would dare declare themselves lords of a mountain. The banner of “brotherhood and righteousness” that Liangshan had originally raised had, in fact, appealed greatly to such people’s tastes. As Liangshan burned and killed its way along, trying to direct resentment toward the government, it caused many such small strongholds to grow hostile toward them—but more of them chose simply to stay silent, step back, and take neither side.
And during the dozen-odd days of Song Jiang’s flight, other soldiers and leaders scattered and driven off by the Liangshan battle had, bit by bit, spread themselves across the entire Yunzhou-Jizhou region. Some of them still wanted to go join up with Song Jiang and the other leaders; others had even made friends along the way and wanted to throw themselves passionately into the cause during Liangshan’s time of hardship. At the very least, during Song Jiang’s dozen-odd days of flight, several bands of outlaw heroes had caught up with or encountered their group, wanting to join them or offer help.
Toward these people, it wasn’t that Song Jiang didn’t want to make use of them—more that he didn’t dare. Ning Yi’s schemes were too many, and they had already suffered repeated setbacks because of them. Now that they had finally managed to purge their ranks once, who could say whether any of these newcomers might be one of Ning Yi’s plants?
With these concerns in mind, he had no choice but to decline with the utmost gratitude, leaving word such as: “If we manage to escape this great calamity, all of you would be welcome to join our cause of righteousness later—but under the current circumstances, it would not do to drag you brothers into this with us. Still, such great kindness will forever be etched in our hearts.” And so on. He spoke with such sincerity that people, in turn, told him not to hesitate to speak up if he ever needed anything.
In truth, if speaking up could have solved his problems, Song Jiang would long since have stopped being so polite about it.
But after the sixth of the seventh month, these scattered fugitives spread across the surrounding prefectures and counties were, in fact, skillfully put to use by Wu Yong, Zhu Wu, and the others. This region was originally sparsely populated with plenty of desolate mountains; as long as Song Jiang’s group kept burning and killing along the way, the more-than-two-thousand men of Dulong Ridge could stay close on their trail. But once they abandoned the burning and killing, focusing entirely on hiding their tracks—even splitting into two or three separate groups to flee—Ning Yi and the others needed far more time to pin down their whereabouts with any accuracy.
At the same time, a great deal of false information was being fed out from the Liangshan side. They sent men to contact scattered soldiers and leaders in various places, issuing all sorts of orders, hoping to stir up chaos, or spreading word of where they planned to strike next in hopes others would cooperate. Not many of these orders were likely to be carried out, but even with only a fraction of people willing to go along, once all the resulting intelligence flowed back in, Song Jiang’s group’s trail grew increasingly blurred across the mountains of Yunzhou.
This state of affairs continued for several days, and by now everyone understood that Song Jiang’s group was preparing some major move. Overseer Fang could not afford to be careless either, and ordered the remaining forces of the Wurui Camp to reinforce the Yunzhou area. But even so, the surrounding marshes and mountains still offered Song Jiang’s group ample room to maneuver, and the most anyone could be certain of was intelligence on the fleeing group’s whereabouts from half a day to a full day earlier—even if that window could occasionally be narrowed somewhat, it made little real difference.
As for tactics, there was little more Ning Yi could contribute under the current conditions. Song Jiang’s ranks still had a few spies Ning Yi could use, but for one thing, Song Jiang had tightened surveillance over his leaders and soldiers, and for another, amid such constant flight, there wasn’t even an opportunity for contact, let alone any chance to direct the spies.
With over ten thousand men pursuing more than three thousand across terrain that still gave the latter something of a home-field advantage, cornering them for good was only a matter of time. Once this side pressed hard enough, the psychological state of the enemy’s soldiers was bound to collapse as well. But all of this required time, and until then, it could only be left to men like Overseer Fang, He Rui, and Luan Tingyu to carry out. In the midst of this tense, breath-held waiting, receiving news about Lu Hongti on the tenth was, for Ning Yi, truly a shot of adrenaline in the midst of tedious anticipation. Wang Shanyue, Qi Xinhan, Zhu Biao, and the others all expressed their astonishment as well.
“Liheng’s master? Could she really be so formidable?”
“How is that possible—someone of such caliber turns out to be…”
“Uh, if Brother Ning’s master is this formidable, then how exactly… how did he end up training his martial arts to this level…”
When news of this “esteemed master” who had stepped up on his behalf spread among the others, the reaction, beyond admiration and astonishment, quickly gave way to a rather clear undercurrent of contempt—something Ning Yi found rather helplessly amusing.
In recent days he had taught Wang Shanyue a few methods of undermining an opponent through cunning, and Wang Shanyue, already quite impressed with him, felt that a clever man truly was a clever man. Qi Xinhan and Zhu Biao likewise thought this fellow was sly and ruthless, not to be underestimated in his methods. But upon learning he had such a formidable master, the corners of their mouths immediately began to twitch. Ning Yi could more or less guess what they were thinking: if my master were this powerful, why would I need to keep resorting to sneaky tricks in a fight!
For a while, they treated Ning Yi as a prime example of someone who refused to put in the hard work on his martial arts, feeling that clever people did, after all, have their flaws. Ning Yi didn’t bother arguing, but thinking of Lu Hongti, alongside the warmth in his heart, he also felt a touch of wistfulness.
“Uh… back when I used to spar with her, she never seemed like she was this formidable…”
He muttered this to himself in front of Zhu Biao and the others, and everyone looked at him with thorough disdain; he could only laugh it off. In truth, in front of Lu Hongti, whether his own martial skill was a bit higher or lower probably made no difference to her at all—no wonder she always called him second-rate or third-rate. This grandmaster-level expert, sparring with him and indulging him in his tricks and cunning maneuvers, had really been quite accommodating toward him.
Of course, if he himself had truly been some martial arts fanatic, pouring all his energy into his skills, Miss Lu would no doubt have devoted herself even more fully to pushing him toward first-rate mastery. But in her eyes, ultimately, saving the world and helping the people came first—no matter how skilled one became in martial arts, being able to defeat a hundred men still paled beside being able to command ten thousand.
Thinking further, to have honed her skills to this level at such a young age, the hardships she must have endured in the Lüliang Mountains were probably beyond even his imagination. Every time he thought of this, alongside the warmth, he couldn’t help but sigh.
Zhu Biao and the others’ disdain toward him was, of course, the kind of teasing that came only once people knew each other well. With a bit more worldly knowledge, most could tell that he hadn’t built up any foundation in his youth. At this time, the more than two thousand men of Dulong Ridge were still circling around with Song Jiang’s forces, unable to spare attention for the unrest among the outlaws. Ning Yi went to ask Luan Tingyu whether there might be any danger from that quarter, and the conversation turned to Iron Arm Zhou Tong. Luan Tingyu, though highly skilled himself and Zhou Tong’s junior fellow disciple, shook his head when it came to this number-one man under heaven, saying he didn’t know much.
“When I was learning the arts, I was still young, and far beneath him. As for being fellow disciples, well, there is some connection there, I suppose, but it shouldn’t really be taken too seriously. We martial artists who travel the world—whenever we meet someone skilled, who wouldn’t want to pick up a trick or two? Before I turned thirty, I had taken seven masters, with skills ranging high and low. Once I had mastered enough to carve out my own place in the world, I stopped seeking out new teachers. Of course, there are also those who study under a single master from beginning to end, but even they, once they’ve completed their training, still have to travel and spar with others. As far as I know, Brother Zhou truly came into his own at Shaolin, having received the full transmission of Master Tan Zhengfang. After I came here to Shandong, I lost touch with him, but he became an instructor at the Imperial Archery Hall, and is fairly close with Sun Li, who’s also serving as an official there.”
Luan Tingyu, for all his skill, had a gentle and humble temperament, and when it came to ranking martial prowess, he simply smiled. “At that level, being even one tier behind makes a great difference once you actually fight. If that Miss Lu truly possesses skill on par with Brother Zhou’s, and has no wish to prolong a fight, then she comes and goes as she pleases—who could possibly hold her back?”
Having said this, he added, “It’s just that human strength has its limits. No matter how strong one’s skill, a person still tires, or luck may turn against them—these things are hard to say for certain. All I can say is… she should be fine.”
That Lu Hongti had survived in the Lüliang Mountains was, of course, not purely a matter of luck—especially having lived through chaotic clashes with Liao raiders looting the land; anyone who could survive that must have vigilance far beyond the ordinary. Ning Yi felt somewhat reassured; once he had dealt with Song Jiang and the others, he could go join her right away.
It was then that he remembered Lu Zhishen had died, and thinking of Lin Chong too, he hurriedly asked Luan Tingyu who else in the world might be as formidable as Zhou Tong, and whether Zhou Tong might step in to avenge his disciple. Luan Tingyu made an odd face.
“Skill can only really be judged by fighting it out—even the title of ‘grandmaster’ is just something people call out. How would I know who’s more formidable than whom… As for avenging a disciple—Zhou Tong teaches archery at the Imperial Archery Hall, and every year no fewer than eighty, even a hundred people, come to study under him. Even counting just the formally accepted inner disciples, I hear there are several young princes and marquises in the capital who’ve bowed to him as master. Once these disciples finish their training, if they don’t end up in the army, most of them drift into the outlaw world. North, Qilu, Hebei, Jiangnan—where is there no disciple of his? Shi Wengong, Lu Junyi, Lin Chong, and the rest were mostly trained by him. At most, it’s a fond memory to him, nothing more…”
Luan Tingyu sighed. “Besides, he spent his whole life studying martial arts with the aim of fighting on the battlefield, only to be looked down upon as a martial artist his whole career. He built himself a great name in the capital, first under heaven, and yet the court never once gave him real appointment. I hear that by the time he left, he’d already grown disheartened. Why would he now come running to trouble the government over a few disciples who turned to banditry? If he really encountered it and didn’t personally step in to clean house himself, that alone would already count as showing mercy…”
The two of them discussed these matters for a while longer, then went on to talk over Song Jiang’s likely intentions before parting ways. Zhu Biao came over afterward, curious, asking about his master’s age, whether she was pretty, and so on. Ning Yi scolded him a bit and said, “Your girl’s right back there. If she’s in a bad mood, go court your own girl instead.”
Zhu Biao had already grown used to Ning Yi’s odd turns of phrase, but he still didn’t quite understand this one. “What does ‘court’ mean?”
“It means to woo her, make her happy, make sure she can’t bear to be apart from you…” Ning Yi explained.
“Oh, I don’t need to court her—we’re already betrothed. I know she’s in a bad mood, and I’ve already told her I’ll definitely bring back Song Jiang’s head, to… uh, to avenge everyone.”
“That’s not how you win a woman over—you have to coax her.” This fellow was a bit thickheaded, Ning Yi thought helplessly, and went on to explain the importance of coaxing a woman properly. Zhu Biao thought it over for a while after hearing this, then walked off from the carriage. The boy could be taught, Ning Yi thought, rather pleased with his attitude.
Then, that evening when they made camp, Ning Yi wandered off and saw Zhu Biao chatting with Su Wenyu, Qi Xinhan, and the others. “Brother Ning’s clever, sure, plenty clever, but he’s way too fussy like an old woman. A real man, how can he go around coaxing women like that…”
“Right, my second brother-in-law’s exactly like that…” Su Wenyu nodded along, waving a hand. “He’s always going on about wooing women and all that, but honestly, if you ask me, I don’t think he actually knows how to woo women at all…”
The group of them stood there, then burst into loud, arrogant laughter…
…
After that day passed, in the small hours of the eleventh of the seventh month, just as the sky began to lighten, columns of figures moved through the dark mountains.
Yan Qing ran within the marching ranks, his eyes sweeping across the surroundings in the darkness, picking out the outlines of grass, rocks, and trees. A faint unease stirred in his heart as the height of the mountain ridge drew near.
Crossing over that peak, the wind blew, and the landscape unfolded before his eyes. Down in the valley below, a small river wound its way through, and scattered points of light traced the outline of a small county town.
“Brother Yan.”
Someone approached beside him—it was Hua Rong.
“Finally here. After circling around for so long, they’ll never expect it…”
The wind blew across the wilderness. As the sky at the horizon showed the faintest hint of fish-belly white, a cool mist lingered in the air. Outside the small county town, someone had gone out to fetch water. On the road, a caravan of more than ten merchants approached, and as they passed the city gate, they were stopped for questioning.
A moment later, atop the walls of the small county town, someone suddenly raised the alarm. At the gate, the merchants abruptly drew their blades, blood spraying into the morning mist, and from the ridges on both sides, a sea of men poured down like a raging dragon.
On the eleventh of the seventh month, after leading the government troops on a chase for several days, the Liangshan group made a feint and turned east instead, taking Fengping County—home to only about six thousand households—under the banner of avenging the brothers Zhu Fu and Zhu Gui. They killed several hundred people, mostly from the wealthy He family, then set the town ablaze and fled north out of the city. With the overall strategic situation in Yunzhou continuously tightening around them, this tactical maneuver dealt the Wurui Camp and Ning Yi’s group a sharp and humbling blow.
The Liangshan men might not dare wipe out an entire county town, but for the government, this was still a show of force that could not be ignored. On the afternoon of the twelfth of the seventh month, the Liangshan group appeared outside Raoping County, but apparently judging the cost of taking the county town too high, made another feint and left. These two moves successfully pinned down the Wurui Camp’s forces at several nearby points. And while the Wurui Camp hesitated for this brief moment, the more than three thousand men decisively turned back, crossing mountains and ridges, and on the night of the thirteenth of the seventh month, charged straight toward their final target!
The decisive battle had arrived.