Because of the heavy rain, the streets of Chongping county town were awash in filthy water. This was a small county town along a tributary of the Grand Canal, sustained mainly by fishing. As the carriages passed, fish scales and entrails floated everywhere in the standing water; the rain may have somewhat weakened the stench, but it was still clearly noticeable — one could well imagine what this place was like on an ordinary day.

On the way there, Ning Yi had already inquired about Chongping’s circumstances. This place, said to live off fishing, in fact mainly did business salting fish, beyond simple catching and distribution — and the material for salting was mostly dead fish. Fish that had died recently and hadn’t yet rotted but couldn’t be sold were brought here to be dried into salted fish.

The times were far from as prosperous as later ages, and there were plenty of people willing to eat fish that had just died. But saying so out loud never sounded good, so this small trade in the county town also trod something of a gray line. Since it was already gray, people here weren’t too particular; ordinarily the stench filled the air, and those of some standing were reluctant to come here, which made it a haunt for figures of the martial underworld.

Ning Yi and his group had come this time seeking a person in charge for the Secret Investigation Bureau stationed here. When the convoy stopped outside a small courtyard on one side of the town, the man in question was in the yard, fumbling to clean up a basket of dead fish that had spilled over. Seeing the convoy stop there, he quickly gathered up several armfuls of dead fish from the ground and tossed them into the basket, then wiped his forehead and came over.

After exchanging passwords and confirming names, Ning Yi’s group determined that the man before them was Hao Jinhan, the officer stationed here for the Secret Investigation Bureau. He had been among the Bureau’s very first members, once sent on an undercover mission to the Liao state that lasted three full years, and was assigned here only after his return. Looking at him now, the middle-aged man appeared to be in his early forties. Though grimy and faintly reeking of dead fish, at first glance he looked like nothing more than an ordinary old farmer laboring away his days. But his bearing was steady, and his eyes carried a certain quiet composure. Though Ning Yi’s arrival had made him somewhat ill at ease, he still came across as reliable.

The Secret Investigation Bureau had been established at the start of the conflict with Liao, and this first batch of members held military rank. Hao Jinhan’s post was that of a squad leader, with seven men under him.

“Sinong, Yaomei, Sanzi… and a few of my apprentices, they’re all out today — making deliveries, and scouting the area nearby. Inside… ah, my humble home, please make do, make do…”

After confirming each other’s identities, he led Ning Yi’s group into the courtyard. The room inside was, indeed, rather crude. Strings of dried fish hung on all sides, leaving the room with little light. Hao Jinhan lit an oil lamp and then started a fire in the stove to boil water for his guests. When Ning Yi’s group insisted they were “all friends here” and went to help, he stepped out to gather the remaining dead fish from the puddles in the yard back into the basket, then carried the basket into the room across the way.

He didn’t dawdle much longer, simply changing into a fresh set of clothes, and when he returned he already had a good deal of intelligence in hand.

“Master Cheng, this should be what you wanted. The movements of yamen runners and soldiers in the nearby prefectures and counties over the past few days, along with some scattered intelligence. I… I haven’t finished organizing it yet, please have a look first.”

“Excellent.” Hearing that he’d brought this, Ning Yi smiled and took it, glancing briefly at the opening lines. “Master Hao, do you have a map of the area?”

“I do.”

Hao Jinhan nodded and fetched an old map from the room next door.

By now everyone had just entered the house — some carrying things in, others helping fetch and boil water. Ning Yi took the stack of intelligence and sat down at a table in the room, then turned back. “Master Hao, how accurate is this map?”

“About sixty or seventy percent accurate. Where it’s uncertain or not marked, I know those spots too.”

“Excellent.” Ning Yi smiled. “Then please, sit with me and let’s work through what’s happened these past two days. Come, have a seat.”

Hao Jinhan, his head and hands still smeared with the smell and slime of dead fish, hesitated a moment despite being no stranger to the world. Ning Yi waved his hand with a smile. “No need to worry — our time is tight, we need to move quickly.”

Though Hao Jinhan had seen his share of the world, what he now witnessed didn’t quite match his expectations. Before long, Ning Yi had already pulled him down into a seat at the table; Zhu Biao and the others brought over warm water and the like, and he cleaned his hands and face somewhat, while the rest carried the boxes into the room. As Ning Yi began browsing through the local intelligence, the seven or eight people who had come along this time all gathered around, while Zhu Biao led the remaining dozen or so men out to survey the surroundings and set up watch nearby.

The situation around Chongping this time centered on Fang Qifo, and involved three factions: the government, Fang Baihua and the other remnants of Fang La’s rebellion, and a mysterious noble-family faction that had suddenly appeared. As far as the Bureau was concerned, the government’s side of things was relatively transparent — Zong Feixiao and Tie Tianying had dispatched many yamen runners and constables in the area, encircling and pursuing suspects. Though these men weren’t the main force capable of taking down top-tier masters, from scattered clues — some locals killed here, some places forcibly broken through there — a rough picture could be pieced together of how Fang Baihua’s group had scattered and fled after being defeated.

By now, their own side was already a mass of wounded. Though the old martial-world experience let them hide in secret for a while, they usually had to change locations within half a day. Among those who had come with Ning Yi this time were several who had also accompanied him to Shandong before; through this recent period of trials, they had developed good analytical skills. The group gathered together to start compiling the information they’d collected. Hao Jinhan, being the true local expert, was frequently consulted by everyone. At first he felt somewhat constrained by the brisk, efficient manner of the group, but Ning Yi’s affable words and clear reasoning soon put him at ease, and he began combining it with the intelligence, offering his own speculations and discussing the situation with everyone.

Bit by bit, some of the news began to come together…

“…In the early hours of the eleventh day of the second month, right after the battle at Siping Ridge, most of Fang Baihua’s group had already been scattered. The masters who appeared afterward to encircle and pursue them clearly had some understanding with Tie Tianying and Zong Feixiao — their intelligence came from the prefectural offices, in a style that suggests it’s the work of a few well-connected great families. We couldn’t find out the specifics, but among the martial-world folk around here, quite a few have grown tense, saying someone they can’t afford to offend has arrived — but exactly who, everyone’s vague about it, mostly just hearsay passed from one person to another…”

“The martial world is a mixed bag, everyone knows different people, and these past few days there’s been all kinds of loose talk flying around — some of it not very credible. But since the rumor has kept going this long, I’d guess some well-placed old-timers recognized someone but didn’t dare say so openly, and that’s how it turned into this. It wasn’t until later, when we heard it might be internal strife within the Manichaean sect — even the name Wang Nantuo came up — that we felt this needed to be reported upward. Who knew Master Cheng would arrive so quickly.”

“I’ve heard the name ‘Mad Tiger’ Wang Nantuo before,” Ning Yi said, smiling as he spoke idly, “Over a decade ago, during the Manichaean sect’s internal strife, Sikong Nan’s faction was pushed out. Wang Nantuo was the Right Guardian — mediocre in martial skill, nothing close to a master or grandmaster. If this affair is just those people being pushed out and going their own way, it wouldn’t be much of a problem. But if the Manichaean remnants are staging a comeback, before long we might see another disaster like Fang La’s.” He gave a small laugh. “Oh, right — over on Fang Baihua’s side, who’s been captured, who’s died, and how many are still out there — has Master Hao heard anything about that?”

Hearing Ning Yi call Wang Nantuo’s martial skill “mediocre,” Hao Jinhan’s eyes flickered slightly, clearly disagreeing, but considering that this guest from the capital, a retainer of the chancellor’s household, might have limited understanding of martial arts, he naturally said nothing. He smiled and nodded, then shook his head. “That’s exactly what’s worrying… As for Fang Baihua’s situation, they haven’t revealed much of the specifics. That information’s currently with Zong Feixiao and Tie Tianying, and they’re not likely to tell the local government anytime soon. But… I’d guess there aren’t many of them left. I heard that Du Sha, the famous ‘Sky-Piercing Blade’ of the martial world, had an arm cut off in this fight — might already be dead.”

“Oh?” Ning Yi’s smile hadn’t faded from the corners of his mouth. “Sky-Piercing Blade Du Sha — I’ve heard of him. A fierce bandit indeed. The Overlord Blade Manor… probably about finished too, then.”

“There are still some at large, but it’s likely hard for them to escape now. I heard someone say they saw a wrought-iron broadsword in the camp where Fang Qifo is being held — almost as tall as a man, and wide too. Sounds a lot like the weapon that rumor says belonged to Overlord Blade Liu Dabiao… If they killed Liu Dabiao, that’s another great achievement for Zong Feixiao and the rest.”

“Haha.”

When Hao Jinhan mentioned “Liu Dabiao’s weapon,” Ning Yi had already opened his mouth in laughter. That pleased smile hung there in the air; once Hao Jinhan finished, he laughed a couple more times, “haha.” He had been sitting in his chair, and now leaned back against it, cupping his chin with one hand in a thoughtful pose. After a moment, he looked toward Hao Jinhan, his mouth opening slightly as though to say something. Hao Jinhan thought he was about to speak, but in the end, no sound came.

After a good while, Ning Yi finally opened his mouth again. “Good news, that. It doesn’t much matter either way. But — where are Zong Feixiao and Tie Tianying now? Where’s their camp set up? If possible, I should go pay them a visit — mainly because… the Manichaean matter can’t be handled carelessly.”

“Just a bit southwest of Siping Ridge, ah… on the map, it would be right here—”

As Hao Jinhan spoke, Ning Yi’s expression remained calm and smiling, but his words kept flowing. “…Back when the Manichaean sect was spreading rapidly, it too relied on the patronage of certain great clans and wealthy households. Though Sikong Nan’s faction was driven out, that doesn’t mean they’ve stopped being Manichaean. If they manage to deceive certain people in high positions, then before long, we’ll be facing the exact same thing all over again. Oh, right here… And besides, for great families to keep armed retainers and enforcers is one thing, but to secretly shelter such traitors, without regard for the nation’s law — what does that say! And to shelter them for so many years without ever reporting it to the court or the authorities, to clear up and expose these people’s true identities — what motives could such people possibly have! Simply enemies of the court, enemies of the common people…”

Ning Yi rambled on at length, and Hao Jinhan nodded along repeatedly, though he grasped none of the true meaning behind the words. The Right Chancellor was pushing to advance the northern campaign; within the court there were allies but also rivals, with Wang Fu at their head. Among the several great families involved this time, there were surely no few of the Right Chancellor’s political enemies as well — and if these enemies had ties to the Manichaean sect, the Right Chancellor could use that to his advantage. That was precisely why Hao Jinhan had rushed to send the news along so quickly. He too had once been to the Liao state, working to advance the northern campaign; though his current rank wasn’t high, being able to contribute in this way filled him with pride. As this “Cheng Zhouhai” — no, wait, this “Master Cheng” — went on and on, Hao Jinhan was probably thinking to himself: “This intelligence of mine really was worth sending. The chancellor should find good use for it.”

The group discussed things a while longer, then Ning Yi made an excuse to step outside. Standing under the eaves, he seemed a bit distracted, his fist already clenched inside his sleeve. Zhu Biao came over from the side and said quietly, “That Liu Dabiao…”

Ning Yi swallowed, then glanced at him. After a while, he spoke, low and with difficulty. “I need to see the body with my own eyes.”

Zhu Biao nodded. “Then tonight — will you go over there? Do you want to make a move?”

Ning Yi shook his head and said nothing more. After a moment, Zhu Biao saw his lips move; he bared his teeth in what might have been a smile, though it was hard to tell what he was doing. The expression on his face shifted several times in a row, looking sometimes like a smile, sometimes almost menacing, changing again and again under the eaves, before finally settling into a flawless, warm smile.

He stood there smiling like that, then turned and went back into the room. Before long, laughter could be heard coming from inside…

…

In the pouring rain, two figures were still chasing and fleeing without end.

The rain falling on her body no longer registered at all; her blood was boiling, her body felt as though it were on fire. In the midst of her desperate flight, even the pain had gone numb — only the alarm of pushing her body ever closer to its limit buzzed in her ears and across her vision.

Charging down the grassy slope, another attack came from behind. As she turned, she exchanged two blows with him, and the blood in her mouth she simply spat straight at that fat face, before her whole body tumbled rolling down the grassy slope.

The world spun.

When she managed to struggle up from the ground, swaying, behind her was… a river.

The sound of wind tearing through the air came from the front; she blocked with both hands and was sent flying backward through the air.

Her petite body spun several times in midair, then landed with a splash into the rushing current.

The massive figure reached the riverbank, snatched up a round stone, and hurled it with all his strength. With a boom, the stone whistled through the air and smashed into the water’s surface. The young woman felt a stab of pain in her shoulder, her body spinning dizzily deeper into the water, blood already spreading through the current…

Don’t sleep! That fat bastard will catch up! She struggled to stay conscious, gritting her teeth, but her body had truly reached the edge of exhaustion.

On the riverbank, the massive figure plunged into the water with a boom, throwing up high splashes in the pouring rain — looking, for all the world, like a great bear charging into the water after its prey—

…

At that same moment, in another patch of mountain woods within the rain, a small incident of its own was unfolding.

It was a packet of lime powder, bursting open in the air, in the midst of combat at this level…