Starting on the night of the sixteenth of the second month, everything around Siping Ridge seemed to stir into motion all at once, as if by unspoken agreement.

Fan Zhong and the others had said earlier that the manhunt for Fang Baihua’s group could be resolved within two or three days. But in truth, that estimate had assumed Fang Baihua’s group would do nothing — that they would simply be driven into a dead end, their room to maneuver completely exhausted. Clearly, though, so long as anyone still had their wits about them, no one would wait for that dead end to truly arrive before fighting back.

As time passed, Tie Tianying and Zong Feixiao, along with Sikong Nan and Lin Ecan, worked on two fronts — searching with all their strength for Fang Baihua’s whereabouts, while also growing increasingly vigilant, waiting for the other side’s final push.

And on this very night, Deng Yuanjue and An Xifu’s sudden turn toward the southwest, leading their remaining few dozen men, became the spark that set everything off.

In the days since the affair had erupted, the appearance of Deng Yuanjue and An Xifu had, in truth, been the force most closely watched by every faction. In the two days since their appearance, before anyone here had fully grasped their movements, they had lit fires everywhere, rescuing quite a few scattered bandits while putting on an unmistakable, undeniable show of heading north — a blatant, open gambit that no one could afford to ignore.

The true protagonists of this whole affair appeared, on the surface, to be Fang Baihua’s faction, attempting to rescue Fang Qifo. But in truth, what this group truly touched on was little more than the capital’s pride, Tie Tianying and Zong Feixiao’s paths to promotion, and the symbolic total destruction of the Yongle court. By comparison, the ledger An Xifu carried held enormous stakes for the future interests of the several families behind this whole affair — whichever family managed to obtain that ledger would first and foremost secure themselves against being stabbed in the back by the others; as for using it to stab someone else’s back and profit, that was a matter to be decided later, depending on how things felt.

Whether it was Tie Tianying, Zong Feixiao, or Sikong Nan — each of them, on the surface, seemed to belong to their own camp, but in truth, all of them had, to varying degrees, the backing of certain great families behind them. An Xifu’s current posture of heading north was already an unmistakable, life-or-death gesture — but his own life mattered little; if he handed over the ledger before he died — he wouldn’t even need to consider to whom — it would ultimately spark massive turmoil regardless.

Indeed, once the commotion grew large enough, the ledger didn’t even need to be genuine. The families who felt implicated would begin clashing among themselves regardless, and even a small amount of friction there could mean the loss of tens or hundreds of thousands of taels of silver, and the lives of hundreds or thousands of people.

Understanding this, every faction involved this time — whether openly or behind the scenes — had adopted a posture of indifference toward that particular thread. Tie Tianying, Zong Feixiao, Fan Zhong, and the others had, on the surface, focused their main forces entirely on the encirclement of Fang Baihua — that side was doomed regardless, and the ledger was surely just a rumor, not worth bothering with. But in truth, once word reached them this evening that Deng Yuanjue’s group had suddenly turned south, the entire situation around Siping Ridge erupted at once.

Deng Yuanjue’s group’s sudden turn toward the southwest had likely happened that very morning. By afternoon, a routine patrol of constables had crossed paths with them, and the point of contact had already shifted several dozen li to the southwest. Following this encounter, within an area of nearly two hundred li centered on that contact point, everything suddenly sprang into motion as the news spread.

So it turned out Deng Yuanjue’s group had never truly intended to head north after all! Everything they had done up to now had simply been meant to lure the pursuing forces northward — their real objective all along was to join up with Fang Baihua and break through to the Dabie Mountains!

In an instant, throughout the surrounding prefectures and counties, soldiers, constables, scattered martial-world figures, and the remnants of the Manichaean sect under Sikong Nan alike seemed to receive a single unified order — as night fell, they all poured out at once, some attempting to intercept Deng Yuanjue and An Xifu’s southward retreat, others converging toward the various routes leading to the Dabie Mountains.

Fang Baihua’s group also had their first encounter with the pursuing constables shortly after nightfall — at that point, in theory, word of Deng Yuanjue’s group turning toward them from the southwest hadn’t yet reached this side. In these final two or three days of maneuvering room left to them, both sides had chosen, with an almost tacit understanding, this very moment to make their final, all-or-nothing gamble.

The wind howled down from the mountains, and the camp at Siping Ridge blazed with firelight; teams of messenger constables and soldiers rushed in and out at speed, delivering to Tie Tianying, holding the fort here, news of what had just unfolded in various locations — with contingency plans for both sides’ different possible movements already prepared in advance by the Ministry of Justice.

Most of the constables deployed outside now operated in teams of ten to twenty, typically led by experienced local chief constables who could respond independently the moment word reached them. By the time the first piece of news reached Siping Ridge, half the surrounding region — far beyond the reach of anyone’s direct sight — across various prefectures and counties, had already sprung into motion. And new orders, issued from Siping Ridge, only accelerated and reinforced the unfolding shift in the overall deployment.

Through it all, Tie Tianying, having already run through countless scenarios in his mind well in advance, handled the response with practiced ease.

“…Send word to the men in the north — except for Chen Zhiqing and Yu Ya’s units, everyone else is to begin moving south in order, and coordinate with the magistrate of Wenshui County to cut off Deng Yuanjue’s retreat. They can give up any thought of heading north now…”

“Report — a group of martial-world figures spotted near Jingshan, including Yan Wu of southern Jiangxi, Jiang Yuan of Hedong, and possibly the notorious bandit Li Long, wanted by our superiors…”

“No need to deal with them for now. Send word to Ye Feng — head south, thoroughly inspect all travelers passing through the Qiaoting area, to prevent Fang Baihua’s group from slipping through the confusion. Also, strictly instruct Ye Feng — if he encounters bandit forces, no need to press the fight; just hold on tight and keep urging surrender along the way…”

“Report — at two ke past the hour of the rooster, near Xiao Louwan on the Wenshui, Feng Tianchuan clashed violently with Fang Baihua’s group, killed three bandits on the spot, and the enemy fled east.”

“So they mean to stir things up all night… at the hour of the rooster…” Tie Tianying studied the map. “Send word to the two units of Lin Donglou and Zeng Xihou — their post is critical. If they encounter Fang Baihua’s group, don’t hesitate to engage, but be careful — if Fang Baihua’s forces retreat, do not pursue. Hold position firmly, to avoid falling for a decoy scheme…”

“A bandit spotted at Chuanshan — the monk Tunyun…”

“Lin Zongwu’s group is currently pursuing south along the Wenshui…”

Wave after wave of reports came flooding in, and for the most part, Tie Tianying had already anticipated them. This included the various groups of martial-world masters who had suddenly appeared — in fact, two days earlier, a sort of “gathering of heroes” had already taken place near Yu Town. Some had gathered because of the bounties — the court’s reward for Fang Baihua’s group was genuinely substantial; others had come hoping to make a name for themselves; still others had old grudges with Fang Baihua or Deng Yuanjue and had come now to kick them while they were down.

Among these, naturally, were also men quietly dispatched by various great families across the north and south, mixed in among the crowd — but their ultimate purpose remained the same: eliminate Fang Baihua’s group, then seek out the whereabouts of the ledger.

By now, the entire situation had settled into something like a game of chess — even as new pieces of news kept trickling in, the overall picture had essentially taken shape, and there was almost nothing left that could truly surprise him. Even Tian Li’s recent report that this Cheng Zhouhai from the Bureau was, in fact, a supreme-tier master — that only showed how seriously the Bureau took this matter; twenty-odd men still couldn’t exert much real influence on this whole situation.

Looking at it clearly, the forces that would ultimately decide the outcome of this whole chessboard were, in essence, three: his own side, representing the Ministry of Justice; Sikong Nan’s side, representing the remnants of the Manichaean sect; and the fleeing Fang Baihua and Deng Yuanjue. Though everyone else combined might arguably count as a fourth force, they were far too scattered to ever twist themselves into a single cohesive thread.

With this understanding, even as he steadily pushed the situation forward on one hand, on the other he kept reflecting on what possibilities he might not have accounted for. Until the matter was truly settled, there remained the possibility that Fang Baihua’s group could flee into the mountains, or that the entire board could still be overturned — and keeping that faint unease alive in his heart had, in a way, become one of his habits.

Men moved in and out around him constantly; each new piece of news brought fresh understanding into his mental framework for weighing the situation, and simple orders were sent out one after another in turn. By now the sky had already gone dark, and quite a few subordinates crowded into the wooden shelter. Just as he issued an order for the nearby county magistrate to gather local militia for defense, another piece of intelligence was brought in.

“Report — word from the capital.”

“…The men gathered are to hold their posts until tomorrow — they may only disband once I say it’s fine. Remember, don’t casually gather villagers — every single one must be personally known by someone, and every location must be led personally by the local head-of-ten, to avoid bandits mixing in among them…” Many people had come to report at this point, but news from the capital carried enough weight that Tie Tianying paid it particular attention. He took the document, glanced it over, and his guard relaxed somewhat. “Yu San, what is it, speak quickly.”

The document rushed from the capital contained information on Cheng Zhouhai of the chancellor’s household — but given the current situation, even confirming the man’s status as a master fighter no longer held much practical importance. He opened it and began reading while continuing to listen to his subordinates’ reports, his mind still sorting through the flow of information — until his gaze suddenly narrowed.

“No martial skill at all…” he murmured under his breath, then went back to the beginning. “This year… thirty-two years old…”

He waved a hand through the air, cutting off his subordinate mid-sentence, his eyes flickering several times before his brow furrowed. He handed the document to an attendant nearby. “Make a copy, send it to Chief Constables Zong and Fan respectively, tell them to keep a close eye on this. And — where did those Bureau men go earlier?”

“After capturing the two Overlord Blade bandits, they also headed toward the southwest…”

“Trying to steal credit, or up to something else entirely…” he muttered to himself, then slammed his fist onto the table.

“…The Demon of the Mind!”

According to the document, this Cheng Zhouhai was already in his thirties, but the scholar who had been coming and going these past two days looked barely into his twenties. Considering the man’s skill, Tie Tianying’s thoughts immediately jumped to the Bureau’s man in charge of martial-world affairs.

It had to be said — however much scorn he’d held for the man earlier, the sudden realization that this madman, who had single-handedly buried tens of thousands at Liangshan, might well be present here, having concealed his true identity for days, sent a sudden shadow rising in his heart.

What was he trying to do…

But regardless, the Bureau still fell under the court’s authority. Even if the man really was here, he’d arrived too late, with too few men, and it shouldn’t affect the overall outcome much.

Time was precious. After a brief moment’s thought, he set the matter aside and refocused his attention on redeploying his forces once more.

Still, with the situation not yet settled, a faint unease remained in his heart, unwilling to fully fade…

Before long, that unease would become reality. The first factor truly outside his calculations appeared right beside him…

…

Passing through the woods, Chen Fan drew close to the camp near Siping Ridge.

The light of the camp shone out from a distance, while this stretch of small woods remained dark. Near the camp, hidden sentries posted by Tie Tianying lurked within the trees as well. But for Chen Fan, none of this posed much of a problem. Though he walked with easy strides, his figure remained cloaked in shadow the entire way — not a single soul could sense his silent passage through the woods and beneath the trees.

Until… a sudden edge of cold steel struck out!

In the darkness, as if a wind had swept through the woods, the leaves stirred; Chen Fan threw a punch, and the other party caught it silently with a palm, strange and yielding. As their fist and palm met, the other party retreated soundlessly and swung out a sword; Chen Fan, too, silently shifted back.

Moonlight spilled through the woods; no figures could be seen, only the wind moving and shadows shifting, both sides remaining utterly silent. After a moment, Chen Fan, hidden among the tree shadows, tilted his head slightly.

“Minister Wang…”

The soft words slipped almost imperceptibly from his lips. Across from him, beside a clump of shrubs, Wang Yin stood as though he had melded seamlessly into his surroundings. But even standing there, his overwhelming presence could still be sensed by a martial artist of Chen Fan’s caliber.

A moment later, in the moonlight, Wang Yin slowly raised his long sword, pointing it toward the camp on the nearby hillside, his calm gaze turning toward Chen Fan…

That night, the camp at Siping Ridge encountered its first truly unpredictable incident.

Past the hour of the dog, a small group led by Chen Fan burst back into the camp. At that moment, Tie Tianying, still holding the fort, remained on high alert — but an internal betrayal, one nobody had anticipated, erupted within the camp, catching everyone off guard.

Ever since the Manichaean sect had first entered the Central Plains, it had gradually expanded, eventually passing from Sikong Nan’s hands into Fang La’s, carefully cultivated over many years. After Fang La’s uprising, the number of deaths ultimately attributable to this affair had exceeded two million. Some of this, of course, belonged to later chapters of the story, but the true depth of the Manichaean sect’s roots was something ordinary people found difficult to fully grasp.

After Fang La’s death, Fang Qifo and Fang Baihua were likely the two most deeply entangled in these connections. Early on, Tie Tianying had indeed considered the possibility of internal instability, but after several engagements, that concern had never materialized. Not until this very night — three constables who had secretly gone over to the other side finally made their move. Catching the unprepared off guard, part of the previously captured prisoners had their bonds cut loose.

Tie Tianying’s original arrangements had been sound. The freed prisoners were discovered not long after, and the camp finally erupted into a large-scale melee. Chen Fan killed several men in the chaos, ultimately rescuing Fang Qifo and leading over twenty men in a breakout from the camp, while over forty others were killed in the fighting. This incident, too, meant that the last remaining leverage the Manichaean sect could still deploy had now been entirely spent.

After Chen Fan carried Fang Qifo out and fled, Tie Tianying likewise led his forces southwest in relentless pursuit.

At this point, centered on Siping Ridge and stretching all the way southwest toward the Dabie Mountains, the entire night had come alive with turmoil. Along the length of the chase, martial-world figures crossed ridges and passed over hills, while the court’s constables and soldiers, torches burning, chased in scattered flashes from one village to the next. Occasionally small-scale skirmishes broke out; in some villages, dogs suddenly barked, only to fall silent moments later — usually the work of a passing martial-world figure quietly killing the alarm dog on the way through.

…

Carrying Fang Qifo on his back, Chen Fan ran through the rugged mountain ridges, over twenty men behind him, straining to keep up.

Since his capture, Fang Qifo had suffered severe injuries; later, confined in a prisoner’s cart, his shoulder blades had been pierced through to disable him. However heaven-reaching his cultivation had once been, he was now effectively crippled, with only his left hand still able to move slightly.

Amid the rugged mountains, the terrain was extremely uneven, but with Chen Fan’s martial skill, he could run like the wind, his upper body barely stirring, sparing his passenger much of the jolting. Because of this, the severely wounded Fang Qifo hadn’t lost much more blood. Though he had been rescued, he showed little joy at it. Chen Fan had assumed his master, so gravely wounded, would need urgent rest — but after only a brief moment adjusting his breath, Fang Qifo’s first question, spoken low, was about the details of Chen Fan’s rescue mission.

So Chen Fan explained, even as he ran, how he had encountered Wang Yin and followed his instructions.

“…Minister Wang said that once I’d rescued you, we should head southwest as quickly as possible. This area is mostly populated, and fleeing deep into the mountains is our only real chance. I hear the Princess, Great Master Deng, and An Xifu are all shifting in that direction tonight too — this is the only chance we’ll get. It’s just a pity…”

Wang Yin had vanished after the rescue, most likely to draw Tie Tianying’s pursuing forces away, serving as a decoy. As he spoke of this, Chen Fan’s mood dimmed slightly, and after a moment, he added, “Master, there was already an inside man arranged within their camp — why wasn’t he used before? Could it be… you were still calculating something further?”

That there was still a Manichaean presence within the enemy’s own camp was, to Chen Fan, the most baffling thing of all. If they had known this earlier, his own side wouldn’t have had to blindly follow along the whole way, ultimately getting caught in the enemy’s net. And if such an arrangement truly existed, he wondered why his master hadn’t made it clear to Fang Baihua. But a moment later, he felt Fang Qifo shake his head faintly against his back.

“I… didn’t know either.”

Chen Fan’s heart sank. After a while, he heard Fang Qifo sigh. “From now on, you’ll all need to watch out for Wang Yin.”

Chen Fan was no fool either; a moment later, he had already grasped the worst possibility hidden within those words…

…

Running madly, fighting the whole way, the various fleeing groups finally converged in a patch of woods not far from the mountain region past midnight. Because the commotion this night had been so enormous, martial-world figures with keen instincts had mostly managed to track how the overall situation was developing along the way; by the time they finally regrouped, only a little over seventy people remained.

By now, a group of masters under Sikong Nan had already come charging in from the flank, while the Ministry of Justice’s constables were also closing in from a converging encirclement, drawing ever nearer. In the surrounding mountain woods, a few unknown masters had appeared as well. Fang Baihua and Deng Yuanjue’s side, already battered and wounded the whole way, had found their spirits briefly lifted by Fang Qifo’s rescue — but in truth, that rescue had turned into a poison hastening their doom. After that brief moment of encouragement, what lay ahead of them was, in effect, already a dead end. Had these people been picked off one by one along the way, some might still have retained a slim chance of survival — but this very gathering had turned the entire situation into one where either everyone died, or only a very few could possibly escape. And with Fang Qifo now among them, his severe wounds and the pull he exerted on the group’s cohesion had become, in their own way, a burden as well.

Meanwhile, upon learning that Fang Qifo had escaped, Zong Feixiao, Fan Zhong, Tie Tianying, and the rest of the Ministry of Justice’s men bore down almost like men possessed, transformed into even more savage, death-dealing fiends.

“Hahahaha, little Seven, haven’t seen you in a few days — are you well? I hear someone rescued you — how wonderful, truly cause for celebration, hahahaha… why not come out and greet this old woman before you go—”

As the group ran and fled through the woods, a woman’s laughter echoed through the trees, and a figure suddenly cut across from the western side of the forest. It was Sikong Nan, who had been tailing them the whole way — her lightness skill now unleashed at a truly astonishing speed. Two of Fang Baihua’s top fighters moved to intercept her, and in an instant, the encounter turned into a torrent of blood raining down…