The routed crowd came surging forward like a tide, scattering in every direction through the darkness of night. Lou Shuwan sat astride her horse, gripping the reins tightly, watching from a distance as fire and explosions lit up the mountain hollow. A man named Qiu Guyan led several guards beside her, holding back the bandits streaming in retreat toward their position.

“What’s happening… gunpowder…”

The horse beneath her shifted uneasily, circling in place, as Lou Shuwan murmured to herself. She could recall it now—a rumor from back in Hangzhou, that Ning Yi had used gunpowder to kill several of Fang La’s fiercest generals. Looking across from this hillside directly opposite, the open mouth of the hollow had already dissolved into uncontrollable chaos—figures fleeing in every direction, blood and corpses scattered across the ground or flung into the air, panicked warhorses bolting in all directions, throwing their riders. Some crashed straight into the fleeing crowd. A few riders, unable to free their legs from the stirrups in time, were dragged along the ground wherever the horse ran. Because of the darkness, each fresh burst of light made the scene—frozen, for an instant, in what looked almost like suspended chaos—all the more visible to those watching from afar, and the men further back were thrown into panicked collapse almost immediately.

Lou Shuwan had never before witnessed the power of gunpowder, but she had already been through a great deal, and once she’d steadied herself, she was able to understand what was producing this effect. Still, in that first moment of alarm, she grabbed hold of Qiu Guyan’s shoulder and pointed at the scattering bandits. “Rally them, rally them—can it be done?”

Qiu Guyan, standing his ground beside her, only shook his head. “Not a chance.”

“They’re scattering too fast…” Lou Shuwan gritted her teeth, forcing herself to calm her racing thoughts. In her heart, she was, of course, shocked by Ning Yi’s countermeasures and by this outcome—looking back on it, his reversal had been so simple, so direct, executed with such effortless ease. But the more astonished and stunned she felt, the more urgently she needed to collect herself. Lacking any battlefield experience herself, all she could think was that the rout had happened far too quickly—even if these men of Lüliang genuinely believed some kind of sorcery had been used against them, surely they shouldn’t be collapsing quite this fast. Even as this thought ran through her mind, in the distance she could see Yu Yulin, leading Tian Shi and a crowd of scattered soldiers, fleeing swiftly in this direction as well.

The bandits of Mount Lüliang had chosen to flee at the very first instant—but for Yu Yulin to be running just as fast was proof enough that he too had made the decision to retreat almost immediately. Lou Shuwan found herself grinding her teeth in frustration, utterly unable to understand the man’s thinking. Even without the men of Lüliang, their own three hundred elite troops should have been more than a match for the enemy—just moments ago, their men had charged in first, full of spirit, and now they were retreating at the very first sign of trouble? Watching Yu Yulin flee up the slope, Lou Shuwan spurred her horse over toward him.

“General Yu, General Yu, why not at least try to fight back—”

“There’s no fighting this.” Yu Yulin glanced back over his shoulder, answering offhandedly, with hardly a trace of hesitation or shame in his voice. “Qiu Mengtang’s men have lost over half their number. If they hadn’t already been in such disarray to begin with, most of them too disoriented to react, they’d have collapsed long before now. That group over there… whatever that trick was, I have no idea what it is, but its power is terrifying. Those charging at the front of the hollow were the cavalry, and every horse has been spooked. With Qiu Mengtang’s men scattered like this, there’s no way we can press forward either—this round, we’ve been played.”

Yu Yulin’s assessment at the moment sounded calm and precise enough, though it was hard to tell what he truly felt underneath. Even so, warhorses were a rare and precious commodity in the Wu dynasty at this time—of the fifty riders leading this charge, all had been Yu Yulin’s own subordinates, and however fine or middling their mounts might have been, one could well imagine how much this pained him. Having come under attack and quickly grasped the situation, he had immediately rallied his men and beaten a swift retreat—by now, he was likely gnawing at himself in regret.

Across the mountainside, scenes of rout and collapse unfolded everywhere—some crying out about sorcery, others shouting to run, and some, only now remembering how many brothers had died in the fighting just moments before, ran on, trampling over the bodies strewn along the way. Though Yu Yulin and the others had managed to gather back together some hundred seventy or eighty men, still holding some order, they didn’t dare linger long. Looking back, another explosion thundered from the mouth of the hollow, and the group of masters on the other side was already cutting its way out, harvesting the scattered, fleeing bandits as it went. Faintly, it seemed Little Raider himself might be among those fleeing for his life.

Lou Shuwan reined in her circling horse, forcing it under control, watching the scene, teeth clenched, feeling tears threatening to well up again in her eyes. Through gritted teeth, she muttered: “Ning Liheng… Ning Liheng…” and turned to follow the retreating group. Tian Shi rode up alongside her: “Who’s Ning Liheng…”

Yu Yulin already suspected this must be the name of the enemy on the other side; he glanced back as well, and after riding on for a while, suddenly it clicked. “Ning Liheng… Demon of the Heart? Is that the Demon of the Heart, Ning Yi?”

Lou Shuwan had no wish whatsoever to hear that name spoken aloud; she glanced at him, gritted her teeth, and rode on faster still, tears welling in her eyes. Yu Yulin opened his mouth, then closed it again, not knowing what to say. Figures of that caliber in the martial world… Iron-Armed Zhou Tong, the Demon Sect’s Sikong Nan, the former Sage Duke Fang La, the Nine-Cloud Dragon Fang Qifo, the now formidable Great Light Cult leader Lin Zongwu, and the Demon of the Heart, Ning Yi… names one might turn over idly in passing, thinking little of them—but now, suddenly, they seemed to matter a great deal.

How in the world had they gone and crossed a man like that—you’d think someone might have mentioned it sooner…

…

The flight through the mountains continued for a long stretch of time, though the sound of fighting behind them had already died away. Once reason had returned to him, Yu Yulin looked out at the valley ahead, still dotted here and there with the glow of torches. Having gathered up whatever men he could and taken a count, he found roughly two hundred thirty-odd of them remaining—there might still be a few more who’d scattered along with the fleeing bandits, no telling where, who might only be found again by daybreak. But given how recklessly they’d charged in, losses in the dozens were probably unavoidable, especially among the cavalry at the front—a genuine shame.

Little Raider Qiu Mengtang, too, had managed to flee to this spot, gathering together some two or three hundred men. Just as Yu Yulin had said, their losses had already been severe enough that a collapse should have come far sooner—it was only because their own order had been so chaotic to begin with that the fighting after nightfall, catching those frenzied bandits off guard, had still managed to sustain any kind of offensive at all. Qiu Mengtang had likely sensed as much even then, which was why he’d pushed so recklessly for a decisive victory—but after that terrifying explosion, it had all come to nothing in the end.

Order within strongholds of this kind in Lüliang had never been particularly good to begin with, and with matters having come to this pass, whatever men remained in the stronghold now, it was clearly headed toward collapse regardless. Once the two groups had regrouped, they rested briefly in this stretch of valley, tending to the wounded, while others still searched the nearby corpses—so that the valley, dotted here and there with points of torchlight, took on an almost dreamlike quality.

“…Word on the road has it that this Ning Yi excels above all at tactics of psychological warfare. This plan of his wasn’t even especially extraordinary, in the end—just relying on a group of subordinates, then settling matters with that strange device at the very end… These days he’s a man of enough standing in the martial world to be spoken of alongside figures like Zhou Tong and Lin Zongwu. That I didn’t ask more carefully beforehand was my own recklessness. Still, Miss Lou, how exactly did you come to have some history with him…”

Dejected as they were, once regrouped, Yu Yulin, Tian Shi, and the others went through a round of mutual reflection and self-criticism, searching, in their own way, for the reasons behind the defeat. Though they still knew little enough about the Demon of the Heart, it wasn’t so hard to understand—after all, if you gathered a group of men to besiege someone like Sikong Nan or Lin Zongwu, with all their sect’s elite forces backing them, running into difficulty wouldn’t be so surprising. Still, there was something of an implicit reproach woven into their words—Lou Shuwan, usually so thorough and careful in her planning, had somehow failed to properly look into the enemy’s true strength this time, and privately, they found that hard to swallow.

Little did they know that, in Lou Shuwan’s own mind, however formidable and ruthless Ning Yi might be, she had never imagined he could possibly rise to the level of a Sikong Nan—though she herself had never met Sikong Nan—or a warlord like Fang La. At first, her mind had simply been in turmoil; then fear had crept in; and by the time the absurd scene before her had truly come to pass, and she’d finally regained her composure, the situation had already spun entirely beyond recall.

With matters having reached this point, there was little more for Lou Shuwan to say. Yu Yulin and Tian Shi took stock of the situation around them, after which Yu Yulin went off to find Qiu Mengtang.

Little Raider had been somewhat affected by the explosions—his hair disheveled, half his face nearly blackened with smoke—though his injuries, at least, weren’t severe. He’d gathered his hair back somewhat by now, and in his eyes mingled ferocity, madness, and a certain coldness all at once; it seemed clear that after everything that had happened tonight, maintaining his authority would be no easy task going forward—he might well have to kill a great many men to hold onto it. Since Yu Yulin and the others still had need of him on this trip into the mountains, he offered plenty of kind words, and once they’d stepped aside, said to him: “Chief Qiu, there’s no need to worry. We understand the situation here in Lüliang well enough—our dealings with Green Wood are purely business. The one the Tiger King truly trusts is still you, Chief Qiu. This time, you’ve done us a great favor, and once we’re back, we’ll show our gratitude properly. And if there’s anything you need in the meantime, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Qiu Mengtang’s expression remained cold, but he nodded in thanks. Across the grassy slope, small groups of bandits moved here and there, identifying the bodies on the ground. Having finished speaking with Yu Yulin, Qiu Mengtang turned and walked further up the slope, while Yu Yulin turned back down. At that same moment, in the direction Qiu Mengtang was walking, a figure appeared among several corpses.

Yu Yulin seemed to sense something—a sudden chill shot up the back of his neck, and gooseflesh rose across his skin. Yet it was only in the next instant that he confirmed what that feeling meant.

Behind him, Qiu Mengtang raised his twin blades, the air splitting with a fierce, whistling sound. Yu Yulin, spear still in hand at that moment, spun around abruptly and saw what was happening behind him.

At that moment, Qiu Mengtang had three companions beside him, all trusted masters from within his stronghold. As the dark figure came surging in, they instinctively moved to meet it—one of them took a blow to the back of the head and was sent flying through the air, slamming into a tree high up the grassy slope. A line of blood bloomed in the darkness, accompanied by the sound of shattering bone and torn flesh. Little Raider’s twin blades slashed wildly, as if hacking through a heap of raw meat; in the darkness, both sides’ figures clashed in a frenzy of motion. Yu Yulin could barely make out the movements of that dark figure at all, yet he seemed to instinctively grasp that the enemy’s weapon, sweeping back and forth, slashing and stabbing in every direction, might well have already broken through all three men’s defenses simultaneously.

His spear tip was already thrusting forward.

As one of Tian Hu’s chief generals, Yu Yulin’s own martial skill counted among the first rank of the martial world; this thrust of his came whistling through the air with tremendous force. In the darkness, the figure seemed to glance his way for just a moment, then thrust out its own weapon. Yu Yulin moved with his spear as principle demanded—in theory, an inch longer meant an inch of advantage, and wielding a spear against a short weapon should have given him a considerable edge. Yet in that instant, all he could feel was that what lay ahead was a swamp of certain death—the further he pressed forward, the colder the dread that gripped him.

With a sharp cry, he pulled his spear back and retreated, as Qiu Mengtang’s blade cut a line across the night sky.

Everyone in the valley turned to look. To them, what they saw was only the scene as it unfolded in the instant right after the eruption of violence. Facing down the approaching assassin, Qiu Mengtang’s twin blades whirled like the wind, and with a savage roar—one of the three masters beside him was sent flying straight into a tree trunk high up the slope, while the other two, along with Qiu Mengtang himself, all bore fresh lines of blood across their bodies. Yu Yulin, having thrust out his spear, stumbled backward down the slope for a dozen-odd steps before finally coming to a stop, while one of Qiu Mengtang’s blades went flying off behind him into the night sky, and the other spun off more than two zhang away, striking one of his own bandits square in the forehead.

With a wet thud, Little Raider’s body staggered backward, his severed head flying up into the air before tumbling to the ground, blood gushing forth like a fountain.

The assassin’s figure kept moving forward. After two more steps, the weapon in hand flicked through the air three times in quick succession, as if shaking off the blood coating it, before being tucked away beneath the cloak.

Behind them, the body of the flung master struck the tree trunk with a crack and dropped to the ground.

The night wind howled, whipping at the black cloak, and in that instant, everyone nearby instinctively took a step back. Even before anyone had spoken the words aloud, from the sheer terror of that exchange just witnessed, Yu Yulin had already guessed the identity of that fearsome dark figure looming above them.

Mount Lüliang.

Blood Bodhisattva.

This was… the strike of a true grandmaster.