Inside the inn, everything changed in an instant.

In the corridor outside the second-floor rooms, the enemy’s sudden strike created a massive commotion in the very first moment. By the time Ning Yi turned his head, he still couldn’t make out what was happening outside, but the railing had been smashed off, a body had fallen down below, and the oil lamps and lanterns hanging in the inn flickered wildly from the sudden collision.

Just as Qi Xinyong and Qi Xinyi struck, in the room Zhu Biao grabbed his steel spear and thrust it out toward the corridor. The figure outside swept it aside with a sharp block, deflecting every attack with unstoppable force, and came into view before Ning Yi.

Their eyes met. Ning Yi grabbed a crossbow, while beside him Qi Xinhan had already charged out. Zhu Biao positioned himself in front of Ning Yi, keeping watch on the window to the side and behind them at the same time.

Three soul-seeking spears wove together, forcing that figure back. Inside the inn, the sounds of fighting erupted; the others who had come along clearly noticed the commotion by now too. Amid the clash of blades and spears, someone screamed in agony, Zhu Hu shouted “Kill him!”, and from the other side came a roar: “Ning Liheng—”

“Who’s there!”

“Stop fighting… you can’t fight here—”

“You bunch of murderers…”

All manner of voices rang out amid the chaos of battle, arrows flew, the lights dimmed, tables and chairs were knocked over. Ning Yi frowned, narrowing his eyes. “Lin Chong…” For him, this really did feel like fate throwing enemies together. On the way here, he hadn’t failed to consider this possibility, but among all his estimates, the situation before him now was indeed the most troublesome kind.

But since things had already come to this point, there was no avoiding it now.

The inn’s main hall was filled with chaotic fighting for a while before the noise gradually died down, and the various parties involved managed to sort out the situation. Ning Yi and Zhu Biao walked out of the room, scanning the hall below—the three Qi brothers had retreated back. Below, several people lay in pools of blood in the hall and on the stairs nearby; the tables and chairs in the hall had all been overturned. Some outlaws crouched behind overturned tables for cover, and Ning Yi’s side had done the same, everyone now holding weapons and crossbows aimed at the inn’s entrance. Lin Chong stood gripping his spear behind a pillar near the door, and when Ning Yi emerged, he too stepped into view, looking up toward him.

The innkeeper, apparently struck in the leg, lay on the ground wailing miserably, “You can’t fight, please stop fighting, ow…”

Ning Yi slowly turned the bracelet in his hand, sweeping his gaze across the room. From behind the tables and chairs, someone shouted, “Who are you people…”

“State your business…”

“Zhu Biao of Dulong Ridge! Anyone who objects can step forward!”

Zhu Biao barked this out. Given that the matter involved Dulong Ridge, everyone knew this was no ordinary affair, and the noise gradually died down, attention turning to Ning Yi. Some recalled Lin Chong’s earlier furious shout, and looking up at this young man barely in his twenties, their expressions shifted slightly. Only then did Ning Yi cup his hands in greeting.

“Greetings, friends. I am Ning Liheng, known in the outlaw world by the nickname Bloody-Handed Butcher. I’ve come to this place only to settle accounts with the men of Liangshan—this has nothing to do with anyone else. At Zhanjia Hollow on the thirteenth of the seventh month, that is, last night, the final three thousand men of Liangshan were wiped out, and Song Jiang and the others were all executed…”

Ning Yi’s tone was light and unhurried. At this, Lin Chong’s face changed. “Bullshit—”

Ning Yi paid him no mind. “I’ve already arrived, and the Wurui Camp and Dulong Ridge’s forces will be here shortly. Anyone who doesn’t wish to be caught up in this should leave quickly. I’ve already killed enough people on this trip to Shandong—my personal grudge with the remnants of Liangshan has nothing to do with any of you.”

As he spoke, he raised a hand slightly, and outside the Dragon Tiger Inn, the sounds of unrest spread further into the distance.

…

Water droplets fell from the eaves. By the time Chen Jinxia, Lu Wenhu, Yao Wuliu, and the others arrived at the Dragon Tiger Inn, a standoff had already formed both inside and outside the building.

Sun Li, Shi Jin, and Lin Chong, leading twenty or thirty Liangshan elites along with some familiar outlaw associates, had already surrounded the place, itching to charge in. Throughout their journey they had been relentlessly hunted by Lu Hongti, suffering deaths and injuries among their brothers all along the way, with new arrivals joining as well; even now some of the maimed lay recovering in the medical hall at Anping. To say their hatred ran as deep as an ocean would not be an exaggeration. Some had already lit torches, wanting to simply burn the inn down, but Lin Chong and the others still retained enough reason—Anping was Yao Wuliu’s territory, and across from them were more than twenty crossbows aimed outward, so charging in for an all-out clash right away might not be wise. Lin Chong stood discussing matters with Sun Li and the others, brows furrowed tightly.

With Chen Jinxia and the others’ arrival, half of Anping County had already been roused, crowds gathering around. At the entrance of the Dragon Tiger Inn, Dulong Ridge’s men held the door, crossbows trained tightly on Lin Chong and his group. Amid the murmuring crowd, word spread that the “demonic menace” Ning Liheng had already arrived, and combined with the scene unfolding before them, the atmosphere was truly grim and tense, carrying the feel of an imminent clash between dragons and tigers.

Chen Jinxia cupped his hands outside the inn’s entrance. “Heroes of the Qilu outlaw world, we have long admired the great name of Butcher Ning. Yet no sooner have we arrived in Anping than this misunderstanding has arisen—hardly a good look for anyone. Today, with all the heroes gathered here, why doesn’t Butcher Ning come out and explain things clearly to everyone, so we may understand his intentions and avoid any further misunderstanding. I am Chen Jinxia, and here with me are Brother Lu Wenhu, and Yao…”

Amid the watching crowd, Chen Jinxia, tall and imposing, negotiated with the inn with neither servility nor arrogance in his words. Government authority, taken as a whole, was fearsome indeed, but as far as individual reputation went, due to the distortion of information as it spread and the varying degrees to which news reached different people, its power to intimidate varied considerably. Take Gao Qiu or Cai Jing, for example—names that, with a single order issued from the capital, could cause the deaths of thousands upon thousands. But if either of them actually appeared in person before people, there might well be no shortage of those bold enough to draw a blade against them.

Ning Yi’s reputation at this point differed somewhat from that of men like Cai Jing, but truth be told, the codes of the outlaw world ran deep in these men’s bones. If you did wrong, the government coming after you left no room for reasoning—but if they really sent troops, there were plenty of desperate men among the outlaws too, who could simply hide in the mountains or move elsewhere. Compared to the situation with Liangshan’s bandits gathered together in one place, these scattered outlaw forces were naturally a different matter. So even though Ning Yi had just used the army to wipe out Liangshan, a man like Chen Jinxia, who aspired to become the regional overlord, didn’t feel he was really at that much of a disadvantage—and with everyone watching, even if he was at some disadvantage, he still had to hold his ground.

In saying this, drawing Ning Yi out, Chen Jinxia had originally intended to go inside the inn to negotiate directly. Whether or not anyone would die was one matter, but a man aiming for great things always had to read the situation clearly. Either way, leading the assembled heroes in a standoff against Ning Yi would only raise his own reputation considerably. But before he could finish speaking, the people inside had already come out—crossbow-wielding elites in front, with Zhu Hu, Zhu Biao, and the Qi brothers walking alongside Ning Yi. The crowd filling the street, inside and out, watched as this young scholar in his twenties appeared before them.

“Yao Wuliu of the Iron Tablet Tower, Chief Han of the Fire Fist Gang, Leader Zheng of Qiyun Stronghold, and all of you here—I know you all, long admired…” Standing on the steps in front of the inn, Ning Yi cupped his hands, his tone steady yet carrying a commanding air, looking down over the crowd filling the street with disdain. Before coming out, Zhu Hu, Qi Xinhan, and the others had considered many angles—things had suddenly escalated, and it wouldn’t be easy to clean up. Yet the moment Chen Jinxia arrived, Ning Yi was still the first to prepare to step outside.

As far as he was concerned, since this couldn’t be avoided, all he could do was take a calculated risk—he couldn’t simply let the situation continue to develop unchecked. The pressure he wanted to project wasn’t meant only for Yao Wuliu and the others—it was meant to reach the entire county of Anping immediately.

Hearing him speak this way, most of the crowd cupped their hands in return. Yao Wuliu said, “Young Master Ning has traveled a long way, and we, as hosts, failed to properly receive you—that is our fault. This Dragon Tiger Inn belongs to my Iron Tablet Tower. If there has been any slight against you here, please tell us plainly, and I will personally apologize to you and all the other heroes here, along with the innkeeper.”

“Heh.” Ning Yi waved a hand, his smile gentle, and spoke in a clear, carrying voice. “I think all of you already know why I’ve come. I understand that snakes have their paths and rats have their burrows, but I won’t beat around the bush today. That lady Lu is my esteemed teacher; she came a thousand miles for my sake, and whatever grudge she carries, I bear it alongside her. Song Jiang and the others were wiped out entirely last night at Zhanjia Hollow—you’ll all hear this news by tomorrow…”

He paused briefly. “Now that the Liangshan affair has come to this point, I wish to bring it to a close as soon as possible. My teacher being safe and unharmed would be the best outcome. I have heard it said that the truly great among heroes serve their nation and their people. The Martial Dynasty now faces troubles both within and without, with unrest at its borders, and the people of Shandong have long suffered hardship—but now that the scourge of Liangshan’s bandits has been removed, and all you heroes have gathered here to form an alliance, clearly aiming for better order, this is a joyous occasion for the outlaw world, worthy of celebration. Wouldn’t you agree, Alliance Leader Chen?”

At these words, Chen Jinxia’s gaze wavered slightly. Beside him, Shi Jin shouted, “Don’t listen to his lies and deceit!” and made to charge forward, but Sun Li held him back. Murmurs spread through the crowd on the street—partly from hearing the news of Song Jiang’s complete annihilation, and partly because most in the outlaw world lived in poverty; if one were honest about it, spending every day on the road just scraping by a living, with no roof over one’s head and no place to truly call one’s own, even if they occasionally shouted slogans about eating meat in big chunks and drinking wine in big bowls, the reality was hardly so romantic. Who among them had ever really heard talk of “the truly great serving nation and people,” and who could genuinely feel anything from notions like heroes gathering together for the sake of better order?

Especially Chen Jinxia—everyone more or less knew that he was using Liangshan’s downfall as an opportunity to rally the outlaws into an alliance, but this hadn’t been formally stated aloud yet, and not everyone among them would necessarily submit to his leadership. It simply hadn’t been said outright, and everyone was quietly building up their strength while waiting to see how things unfolded. If Ning Yi, representing the government’s authority, were to actually acknowledge him, then he would truly be not far from becoming the alliance leader of the entire Qilu outlaw world. But for the sake of face, he couldn’t simply nod along right away either.

“Butcher Ning speaks plainly, so I, Chen, won’t drag things out with roundabout talk either. As for the grudge between the government and Liangshan, we’re merely men of the wilds with no right to comment. But there were many from the outlaw world among Liangshan’s ranks as well, and our gathering here to form an alliance is, in truth, also meant to petition the government. I wonder—were the schemes Butcher Ning used against Liangshan perhaps too vicious? I’ve heard that afterward, brothers on Liangshan turned on each other, kin raised blades against kin. If Butcher Ning sought only revenge, why not use more honorable methods, rather than bringing human relations to such ruin…”

That he could harbor such ambitions and had managed to come this far showed that, alongside his martial skill, he clearly had some literary talent as well. This challenge, in the end, still left room for a graceful retreat. Ning Yi was about to respond when, in the crowd, Yao Wuliu suddenly looked around suspiciously, wondering why the monk Tunyun hadn’t appeared, and also wondering why Sun Li had held Shi Jin back. He looked in that direction and caught, from the corner of Sun Li’s eye, a glance stolen toward the darkness.

Yao Wuliu looked that way too, and saw, in the darkness of the second floor, a figure moving swiftly and silently forward. At that same moment, among the Liangshan group, a sudden furious roar erupted.

“Why waste words with this devil—kill him!”

From the Liangshan side, Sun Li grabbed a broken cart wheel nearby and hurled it whistling through the air. Zhu Biao gave a cold snort, and everyone suddenly drew together defensively; three men of the Zhu Family Manor smashed the wheel apart in midair. At the same moment, the Liangshan men charged forward.

Yao Wuliu was about to raise his hand when another hand suddenly grabbed it from the side—it was Han Li of the Fire Fist Gang. The two of them had long had friction and disputes around Anping, with the Fire Fist Gang usually coming out on the losing end, but at least in front of outsiders, the two had always stood together. This time, however, Han Li restrained Yao Wuliu, raised a hand, and suddenly roared, “He’s right—kill him—”

Chen Jinxia shouted, “Wait—” but beside him, Lu Wenhu had already drawn his twin blades and charged forward, and behind them, among the widow and disciples of “Swift Sword” Lin Qi, some rushed forward as well.

The twenty-odd crossbowmen retreated, and the first volley of bolts swept across toward the Liangshan side. Zhu Biao swung his heavy spear and charged out of the crowd; his spear and Lu Wenhu’s twin blades clashed in the air with a series of sparking bangs.

“Come on then! Men of Liangshan! But Alliance Leader Chen, Chief Yao, and all you people of Anping—if this truly spirals out of control, you can all wait for the army to sweep through from Zhuxi to Anping tomorrow!”

Ning Yi wasn’t unprepared for something like this. Talking an enemy down simply through words was never going to work in front of men from Liangshan who had already been driven to the edge of ruin—they were bound to choose to force their way through. But he had to spread the pressure across the entirety of Anping; as long as they could hold through the first wave, someone would come to their senses and put a stop to things escalating further. The problem was time was tight, and right now Ning Yi had no way of untangling all these people’s various grudges and relationships. Without the government to serve as a buffer in between, and without enough time to think things through, all Ning Yi could do was gamble.

Blood bloomed among the surging crowd; stray arrows and hidden weapons from the other side struck several of the Dulong Ridge men. Yao Wuliu shook off Han Li and threw a punch at his face—the fist whistled through the air with tremendous force—and Han Li hastily dodged back. At the same time Yao Wuliu shouted, “Stop! Iron Tablet Tower, stand down!”

“Take this—!” Above the inn, someone burst through the eaves and came crashing down, massive robe sleeves billowing over the whole area. The soul-seeking spears thrust up at him, clanging chaotically, and the formation was instantly thrown into disarray. The figure landed, rolled into the inn’s interior, then suddenly burst out again, laughing wildly, “Hahahaha—” and shoved back Qi Xinyi and Qi Xinhan. Ning Yi fired an arrow, knocking the figure back. Several nearby Dulong Ridge men turned and fired their bows as well; Ning Yi hastily rushed toward the side of the eaves. At the same time, among the crowd on the road that hadn’t yet joined the fighting, three or four figures were suddenly knocked flying almost simultaneously, and one figure came sprinting forward at tremendous speed, closing in fast.

In this brief moment, everyone was locked in chaotic combat. Lin Chong, Sun Li, Shi Jin, and the other Liangshan men had already charged in, first clashing with the Dulong Ridge men, but Sun Li leapt up, then was shoved from behind by Shi Jin, sent flying toward Ning Yi. The wide-sleeved monk knocked away Qi Xinyong and two Dulong Ridge guards, also charging toward Ning Yi. Two more figures dropped down from the eaves, heads wrapped in white cloth—two disciples of Swift Sword Lin Qi. And from the other side, that figure charging out of the crowd was closing in rapidly as well.

Five figures, along with Ning Yi, suddenly collided together in a chaotic, lightning-fast clash. Water splashed, and the elongated shadows cast by torchlight flickered wildly before everyone’s eyes.

Flashes of sword and blade, the iron-threaded cassock whirling and smashing about—but nearly all the attacks were intercepted by that figure who had suddenly burst onto the scene. She struck like lightning, and in the blink of an eye had already traded dozens of blows with Monk Tunyun, Sun Li, and two others.

In the midst of this, Ning Yi’s own figure was nearly caught up in the chaos as well. Channeling the energy of Break the Six Paths, he swept out with his blade—crossbow bolts, fishing nets, lime powder packets flew out—then, with a bang, metal clashed against metal, a sweetness rose in his chest, and his whole body was knocked backward. It was Monk Tunyun’s massive sleeve striking him; though it landed on the iron plate padding his chest, the force behind it was still nearly unbearable. Stumbling backward, he discharged his firearm. Blood and flesh sprayed; the arc of blood from a sword’s edge streaked across the sky. In the instant the lime powder packet burst open, that not-so-imposing figure drove Sun Li back with a single punch, while before her, two iron sleeves swung down, striking her squarely on both shoulders.

That figure, treading through the water and light, kept being pushed backward as well. Ning Yi’s body lost its balance, tipping backward as if about to fall in midair—the figure that rushed to his side caught and steadied him, then raised her sword to shield him. Ning Yi wrapped one arm around her, retreating several more steps until they came to a stop against a wall behind them, the woman’s tall figure pressed against his chest.

That instant of chaotic fighting had thrown nearly everyone’s vision into confusion. When the six finally separated, both of Lin Qi’s disciples lay dead on the ground—one of them completely wrapped head to toe in a fishing net. Sun Li, his shoulder pierced clean through by Ning Yi’s spear thrust, staggered back, flesh mangled and bloody. Monk Tunyun had lime powder stuck to half his cassock, some of it on his right hand, which was now giving off steam; he walked off to the side and thrust his hand directly into the muddy water on the ground—there hadn’t been much lime powder, so it washed off easily. And here, Ning Yi held the woman who had suddenly appeared from behind, facing everyone.

The one who had charged out, of course, was none other than Lu Hongti.

At this moment, Ning Yi’s left arm was wrapped around her from the front, his hand actually resting over her chest—but Lu Hongti’s right hand held her sword, while her left hand, which had earlier grabbed him to keep him from falling, was now pressed against the back of his hand. Yet in that moment, neither of them noticed any of this. Lu Hongti said, “Are you alright?” Ning Yi, tasting something sweet in his mouth, spat out a mouthful of blood, and his concern too was for Lu Hongti’s condition: “You…” He had seen, just now, that moment when the monk’s two palms had struck her.

Among the crowd before them, silence lingered for a moment, and then someone suddenly said, “She’s hurt…”

Another voice added, “That she-devil is hurt…”

Torchlight flickered all around, and in that glow, blood was seeping from the corner of Lu Hongti’s mouth. In that critical moment, she had truly taken both of Monk Tunyun’s palm strikes head-on—this time, she really was injured.

Watching the crowd before him, their eyes gradually growing more heated, Ning Yi’s heart sank. He had come here in haste, and had thought that once the deterrent effect of Liangshan’s destruction took hold, these people would calm down upon reflection and he himself wouldn’t be in real danger—even Lu Hongti’s siege would naturally be lifted along with it. But as things stood now, Hongti had just been forced to step in and save him. She was highly skilled and could have moved freely on her own—but with him right beside her, he had ultimately become a burden.