The small cave blocked out the night wind. By the moonlight streaming in from outside, Ning Yi recounted the details of Liangshan’s destruction while tinkering with the firearm in his hands. Although he’d been soaked through from jumping into the river, he still carried a few small oilcloth packets on him, one of which held gunpowder and shot—so at least he still had one weapon for self-defense to fuss over.

He then asked Hongti why she had come here, and she told him about the split that had occurred at Lüliang Mountain, and the reasons for coming down the mountain afterward. She had traveled all the way to Bianliang, failed to find the people from Lüliang there, but found Wenren Buer instead. After telling him what had happened, Wenren Buer had told her to come to Shandong, and from there she’d run into Lin Chong, Lu Zhishen, and the others, and the fighting had broken out from there.

Though Hongti hadn’t elaborated on her deeper reasons, Ning Yi more or less understood the thinking behind it. Now that his reputation as the “demonic menace” had spread, some in the world feared him, some despised him—the outlaw world had its own rules and ecosystem, much like Confucian scholars defending their orthodoxy; those who manipulated people’s hearts and human nature were simply not well-liked. Lu Hongti’s intervention was also meant to use her own skill to give him a stronger safeguard.

Zhou Tong, who ran the Imperial Archery Hall, paid little attention to disciples who fell in with bandit gangs, which was why people fought each other so freely without much concern. Now that Lu Hongti had made her move and built a reputation for it, any outlaw thinking of striking at Ning Yi would have to think twice.

She mentioned that her reason for entering the city this time had been to find food, and Ning Yi opened another oil-paper packet, handing her a piece of smoked meat—part of the dry rations he carried with him. He always kept money on him and was rather particular about food, clothing, and daily comforts, never settling for less than the finest, and this dried food too had gone through considerable preparation, cooked to be quite delicious. Hongti had assumed she’d have to go hungry that day and hadn’t thought much of it, but having food was naturally a pleasant surprise. She tore off a small portion of the smoked meat and began eating; at the first bite her expression turned somewhat complicated, then she chewed slowly and swallowed. Ning Yi watched her brush back a strand of hair.

To be fair, in this era, knowledge and education were far less widespread than in later times. As for refinement, someone like Li Shishi, who could carry herself with both nobility and approachability, naturally surpassed most people of later ages by far; his own wife and Xiao Chan, having received the upbringing of prominent southern households, carried in their gestures and glances the clear, captivating air of cultivated ladies. Lu Hongti before him, however, had never had such opportunities.

Ning Yi had long since realized that, though she carried a woman’s natural self-awareness thanks to the teachings of that “Grandfather Liang” at Lüliang, the harshness of her life had left her little chance for such refinements. Her looks were certainly beautiful—an oval face, gentle eyes, an unsharp bearing—but without much care taken for her appearance, at first glance she was hard to find striking; if anything, her travel-worn air made her seem rather unremarkable at first impression. And yet she might well be the most easily contented woman Ning Yi had ever encountered—the kind of person who, set into an ordinary life, would have endured hardship and found contentment in it all the same, who, once married, would have quietly supported her husband and raised their children, living an unremarkable life; she might be beautiful, yet she never made a fuss, enduring hardship while remaining ever optimistic. If she were to be given a label, it would probably be the most ordinary kind of virtuous wife this era had to offer—not “formidable.”

And yet, precisely amid this impression, she genuinely possessed grandmaster-level martial skill.

Perhaps everyone, over the course of a lifetime, carries all their past with them as they move forward. Behind her lay so many things, so many hardships, all of it worn smooth by her own strength. But whenever Ning Yi caught a glimpse of the traces of those things, he would feel something in his heart being struck and jarred—like the death of Qian Xiwen, like the crying and smiling of that little girl during the flight from Hangzhou, and just now, as she glanced over at him and said, “Stop staring at me, this is really good,” so plainly, so simply.

Perhaps… at least among all he had seen, she was the most unassuming grandmaster there was.

“Seriously, are you sure your injury’s alright?”

“It’s fine.” Hongti tore off another small portion of smoked meat, handing the remaining half back to Ning Yi. He waved it off, so she wrapped it back up, not planning to eat any more of it. “In battle, you can’t just run off because of some minor injury. Even with a broken hand or foot, you still have to be able to kill, or you’re dead for sure… Those two palm strikes from the monk, they don’t affect me at all. Spitting up a bit of blood is nothing. It’s your chest that hurts, isn’t it?”

Ning Yi laughed. “Just a little. I had an iron plate padding it, and besides, aren’t I circulating my energy to recover right now?”

“You really do think you’re in one of those storybooks you talk about…” Hongti glanced at him, then, after a moment’s hesitation, reached out and leaned closer. After hesitating a moment more, she pressed her palm against Ning Yi’s chest, lightly resting it there, pressing a few times.

“You’re fine,” she said. “But the real issue with破六道 is the ongoing conditioning it needs afterward—I’ve told you before, you shouldn’t rely on it so much.”

Although the technique of 破六道 had won him repeated remarkable feats since he’d started practicing it, it was, after all, a ruthless technique that forced the body’s potential beyond its limits, and it inevitably took a toll on the body. Lu Hongti had said as much before, back in Hangzhou. Ning Yi could only respond with some helplessness. “Such is life in the outlaw world—I don’t have much choice…”

“This isn’t really the outlaw world—it’s somewhat different from the one you used to describe to me…” Hongti shook her head. “They do wrong, yet can always talk their way into justifying it, going on about rules and honor—when really, they’re nothing but bandits and thieves…”

“People are just like that…” Ning Yi replied with a laugh. But as he said this, he heard Hongti, who had been watching him, suddenly say, “Lie down on your front.”

“Hm?”

Ning Yi paused, then tried lying face-down on the ground. “What for?”

“Since I’ve already claimed to be your teacher, I ought to give you something for it.”

In the faint light, Hongti lifted her chin, a hint of complexity in her smile. She knelt down beside Ning Yi, pressing both hands against his back. “This might hurt a bit in a moment—you’ll have to bear with it.”

“Uh…”

Ning Yi felt those two palms gradually growing warm against him; as they pressed with some force, his chest began to ache faintly. He said quietly, “Wasn’t it already established, though?”

“Before didn’t count,” Hongti replied quietly from behind him.

“Oh… can I talk while this happens…”

“Suit yourself. You’re the one who said people are all like that…”

As Hongti spoke, Ning Yi felt those hands press abruptly on a certain acupoint on his body, then push, sending a sudden rush of blood surging toward his heart, his blood vessels swelling with a dull ache. He grimaced.

“That’s right… people are all like that. They can’t help it, they can’t change the world, and once they’ve fallen into that state, all they can do is keep doing wrong. And after doing wrong, they can’t very well spend every day blaming themselves, so bit by bit they find ways to pile up reasons to justify what they’ve done, telling it so convincingly that even they themselves come to believe it. That’s called… Stockholm syndrome…”

“Stock-what syndrome… are you sympathizing with them?”

“Not at all. But you have to understand them if you want to defeat them… or change them.”

Ning Yi had had no mental preparation for this sudden massage, but after a moment he understood what she’d meant by “a bit of pain.” Internal energy was, at its core, the circulation of blood and qi, and Lu Hongti’s hands, burning hot, drove the qi and blood through his body. Before long, sensations of numbness, itching, and pain surged up all at once, sweat pouring out of him. Uncomfortable as it was, Ning Yi understood she was mostly doing this for his own good, chattering on to distract him—but there was also something a little strange stirring in his heart. After all, in this era, men and women weren’t supposed to touch so freely, and for her to be channeling his meridians like this carried real risk to her reputation.

This whole ordeal lasted roughly an hour before it finally stopped. When Ning Yi sat up, he felt as though his entire body were burning with fever, and laughed, “Am I about to become some martial arts master?”

Hongti shook her head with a light laugh. “It’s just making your body a bit healthier.” She wiped the sweat from her brow, then handed him the oil-paper packet with the smoked meat. “You should eat something.” Ning Yi nodded and broke off another half of the smoked meat from the packet.

Afterward the two of them sat on either side, chatting idly about matters concerning Lüliang Mountain. Hongti had always been genuinely interested in the situation with the Liao state and the affairs of the Martial Dynasty—though she wasn’t particularly skilled in such matters, she seemed to have been influenced by “Grandfather Liang” into believing that being able to command ten thousand men was what truly mattered, and in this regard she admired Ning Yi considerably. Before long, the sweat on Ning Yi’s body had evaporated, and he began to feel the cold setting in again. Hongti sat there, hesitating for a good while, then said, “You… come here.”

“Uh…” Ning Yi looked at her.

Lu Hongti hugged her knees, curled up where she sat. “You’re the one who said outlaw folk don’t fuss over such small things. We’ve still got a day or two to get through, and it gets colder just before dawn—at least I’m wearing clothes.”

Her tone carried a decisiveness like that of the battlefield. Ning Yi nodded, moved over to sit beside her, and after a moment reached out and put his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. Hongti didn’t resist, hugging her knees, lowering her head as she leaned into him, letting their bodies press as close together as possible. She was tall, only slightly shorter than Ning Yi, formidably skilled, and her body was warm, with only a slight stiffness to it.

Feeling something stir within him, Ning Yi rested his face against her hair, and after a moment of silence, spoke up. “You think your master might be Sikong Nan?”

“I’m your teacher—shouldn’t you call her your grand-teacher instead?”

“Fine then, do you think your grand-teacher might be Sikong Nan?”

Hongti had always simply said she’d taught Ning Yi a few second-rate techniques, never caring much about formal titles—but now, pressed close together, she found herself unexpectedly caring about what Ning Yi called her own teacher, even though she’d never minded his casual way of addressing her. She thought it over for a moment. “I don’t actually know who my teacher was, but I don’t think it’s her.”

“Oh.”

The two continued talking on and off after that, gradually drifting into sleep amid the hazy quiet. The night dew grew colder, and Ning Yi held Lu Hongti a little tighter still. Hongti occasionally woke, gazing out at the moonlight beyond the cave mouth, staying alert to their surroundings, though her eyes carried a complicated, distant look. Curled up in his embrace with her knees drawn in, her hands never let go, holding that same position, pressing as close to him as she could.

By the next morning, when Ning Yi woke, the sky had already brightened, and the now-dried clothes had been draped over him. As he dressed, Hongti walked in from outside the cave holding her sword, smiling at him. “I went out and had a look around—doesn’t seem like they’ve come this way yet, but we should get moving while we have the chance.”