“…As the saying goes, a man without foresight for the distant future will surely meet trouble close at hand. Thinking back on recent events, my heart has been ill at ease. Of course, it may simply be that too much has happened lately, and my thoughts have grown disordered…”

In the capital, on the twentieth day of the fifth month—nearly half a year since the Jurchens’ withdrawal—the trees along the roadside had grown lush and green, pedestrians and vendors moved to and fro in a bustling weave of activity. On the upper floor of a tavern, Tie Tianying, speaking as he went, sat down at a table with Zong Feixiao in a small private room.

As a chief constable of the Ministry of Justice, and a master fighter with a fearsome reputation across the realm, Zong Feixiao was broad and powerfully built, standing a full head taller even than Tie Tianying. Owing to his exceptional external cultivation, his head bore neither hair nor beard, giving him a fierce, forbidding appearance—yet in truth, he was a man of coarse exterior and careful interior. Tie Tianying had worked with him several times before, including on the occasion of escorting Fang Qifo to the capital, and both men had likewise been outmaneuvered by Ning Yi on that occasion, giving them common ground to speak freely.

Time was short, and both men had a great deal of official business to attend to. As Tie Tianying poured the wine, he laid out the recent state of affairs in the capital concerning Ning Yi. In truth, in the half year since the Jurchens’ withdrawal, most of what had happened in the capital had revolved around the rise and fall of the Right Chancellor’s residence, with Ning Yi caught in the thick of it, buffeted this way and that, yet somehow still surviving even now, wedged between the cracks. Even to Tie Tianying’s eyes, the situation was far from something that could be summed up in a few simple words.

It had now been ten days since Qin Siyuan’s death. Within the capital, the occasional scholar delivering some impassioned speech still brought his name up, but on the whole, the matter had passed; the treacherous official had met his just punishment, and most people had already begun looking ahead. Looking back on it now, many things had grown clearer.

“…This man Ning Yi—most of the capital’s officials have looked down on him because of his background. And yet under the Right Chancellor, he displayed remarkable ingenuity time and again. Looking back to last year, when the Jurchens came, he went straight out of the city himself; later, during the scorched-earth defense, and later still, in the battle of Summer Village, he contributed a great deal of effort each time. Had the Right Chancellor not suddenly fallen, he would not have found himself so thoroughly set back. To save Qin Siyuan, he even found a way to mobilize the Lüliang cavalry. Looking at how he’s positioning his men now, I thought he originally meant to leave, but it seems he’s changed his mind. Whether it’s for old Qin’s death or something else, if this man rises again, neither you nor I will have an easy time of it…”

A chief constable who had spent years moving through the martial world naturally made no shortage of enemies in the course of his work. But grudges in the martial world were nothing like those in the imperial court—should such an enemy ever rise to real power, the consequences hardly needed spelling out for Tie Tianying. Zong Feixiao, in the course of taking over the Bureau of Covert Affairs, had very nearly harmed Su Tan’er, and so was hardly unprepared for what lay ahead.

“In our earlier clash, I had already taken his measure. In truth, even before the Bozhou affair, I had already placed men inside the Bamboo Emporium.” Zong Feixiao spoke, frowning slightly. “Only, the Bamboo Emporium previously relied on the backing of the Right Chancellor’s residence and the Bureau of Covert Affairs, and certain matters within it remained beyond outsiders’ knowledge—the men I placed never made it into its inner core. But in these last few days, watching the Bamboo Emporium’s movements, it seems to be circling back toward the capital once more. Word has leaked from above that its new proprietor is now Prince Tong Guan himself—whether they change the name or not no longer matters.”

“I suspect this is mostly a case of borrowing another’s authority to intimidate. Ning Yi may have some dealings with Prince Tong, but within the princely household, I doubt he holds any real standing.”

“He came originally from Qin Siyuan’s faction—even if he’s pledged his loyalty now, would Prince Tong trust him so readily? But given Prince Tong’s power, whatever business dealings Ning Yi wishes to pursue will surely go unhindered. And besides…” Zong Feixiao hesitated slightly, but finally continued. “Brother Tie, we’ve both seen the fall of great officials like Qin Siyuan more than once, haven’t we?”

“Mm.” Tie Tianying nodded. “More than a few.”

Zong Feixiao, seated across from him, smiled. “Indeed. We’ve grown quite familiar with what happens after a great official falls, haven’t we. The sons and retainers of such men—some indeed manage to be spared, or find another powerful patron to cling to, and pass safely through the storm. But once a person lives through an ordeal like this once or twice, their spirit tends to break. How many of these people, once thrown into our cells and later released, ever come back seeking vengeance against us? At most, they put on some brave face before the jailer who once treated them harshly—beyond that, things rarely go well for them.”

“After all, even if such men manage to keep their lives, their standing means they’ll forever face suspicion and cold looks from others. Now that the storm over the Right Chancellor’s case has just passed, this Ning Yi, however hot-blooded he may be, has surely spent whatever tricks he had left after mobilizing that cavalry. Perhaps he’s done Prince Tong some favor or other—but would the prince not still be wary of him? Would he truly place great trust in him? And so, he’s now precisely the sort of man who dares not act rashly, who dares not stir up further trouble…”

Zong Feixiao paused briefly here. “You and I are both chief constables now. One step further up, from the martial world into the officialdom proper, would only make us minor clerks not worth mentioning—but in our current position, there’s never been any shortage of people wanting things done. This Ning Yi, though—one step up for him, and he becomes a man of the princely household. He never thought much of us even back in the chancellor’s residence; once he’s in the princely household… heh, to put it plainly, he’ll be the one with shoes on his feet, and I’ll still be the one barefoot. So what if I touch his woman? If he wants to fight me to the death over it, I might indeed struggle to come out unscathed—but would he really come out ahead either? I don’t believe it for a moment.”

His broad, fleshy face broke into a cold smile as he popped a rice cake into his mouth. “Since ancient times, the reckless fear the truly desperate. I came prepared for this before I ever set foot in the capital. If he truly wants to make trouble, he won’t need to come find me—I’ll go find him first. Worst case, we go down together. His family’s rich, his household large, his women many—I doubt it’s me who should fear him more than he fears me. Brother Tie, wouldn’t you say that’s the truth of it?”

Tie Tianying laughed as well, clinking cups with him. “Truth be told, it’s not that I’m truly afraid of much. It’s only that, since the grudge is already set, now is when he’s at his weakest—we ought to find a chance to bring him down. As I see it, after all that’s happened, this Ning Yi will either truly settle down and behave, or, if he wants revenge, the first ones he goes after certainly won’t be you or me. If his ambitions run larger, it might well be the Qi family he’s after.”

“Qi Yan.” Zong Feixiao nodded.

Tie Tianying said, “The Qi family holds great power in the north—truth be told, the Great Radiance Sect essentially operates under their protection. In the capital, Qi Yan is on good terms with Lord Liang Shicheng, Lord Li Bangyan, and even with Grand Preceptor Cai. The Great Radiance Sect has taken such a heavy loss now—had Ning Yi not switched sides to Prince Tong, the Qi family would likely have already retaliated against him. But for now, tensions run high, and with Ning Yi having only just joined the prince’s faction, Prince Tong won’t allow anyone to touch him. Once time passes, though, and he loses his standing in Prince Tong’s eyes, the Qi family won’t simply swallow this loss quietly. And judging by how Ning Yi has conducted himself in the past, he’s certainly not one to sit and wait for the axe to fall either.”

Zong Feixiao nodded, thought for a moment, then laughed. “The Great Radiance Sect… word in the martial world has it that Lin Zongwu wanted to head north for a showdown with the Heart Demon, only to be chased down by cavalry outside Zhuxian Town by the canal, his sect’s master fighters wiped out almost entirely. He went to the Qi family in a rage, never expecting that his own march north with a great host would run straight into an army coming to kill them. The Qi family must have been stunned themselves. Heh heh…”

“Ning Yi spent an enormous cost trying to save Qin Siyuan—a pity he arrived a step too late, or you and I wouldn’t be scrambling like this now. Still, that said, Lin Zongwu won’t let this go easily either.” As for the matter of the cavalry’s mobilization that day, the higher-ups had let it slide lightly enough; but regarding Qin Siyuan’s death, though the emperor himself showed little concern, plenty of activity was still stirring below—including the downfall of several mid-level officials, and the arrest of various martial-world figures. What had been dismissed lightly above had stirred up a small storm of bloodshed below.

The two men, still talking, heard a bird call from the branches outside the window. Looking out through the window, not far off at the entrance of a cloth shop across the street, Ning Yi’s party had just alighted from their carriage and were heading inside. Tie and Zong both glanced over; Tie Tianying jutted his chin toward it.

“After Qin Siyuan’s death, it’s said he left behind a great deal of incriminating evidence against many people, as well as private secrets belonging to various households—originally meant as material for a future comeback. Now it seems he’s handed it all over to Prince Tong—using it to drive out one tiger with another, killing with a borrowed blade. That’s likely why he’s earned the prince’s protection. But fortunately, the military faction has always been overbearing by nature—should real conflict arise, they likely wouldn’t even need such material, and Prince Tong may well see through his little scheme regardless.”

“Strike while he’s weak,” Zong Feixiao said, nodding. “I’ve no patience for guarding against thieves for a thousand days straight. If the men I’ve placed inside the Bamboo Emporium do turn up anything useful, I’ll know what to do with it.”

“These matters, I’ve simply mentioned to you in passing, brother Zong—you’ll naturally know how to handle it. As for my end, though I have plenty on my plate, I’m still keeping an eye on him. Do you know why?”

Zong Feixiao thought for a moment. “I heard Liu Xigua, Chen Fan, and the others have entered the capital. Fan Zhong crossed paths with them.”

“Indeed. This man Ning Yi is ruthless in his methods and has made no shortage of enemies. He once personally beheaded Fang Qifo—a grudge between the two sides that can end only in death. Now that the Overlord Blade has entered the capital, I don’t yet know what they’re plotting, but if the chance arises, they’ll surely try to kill him. I’ll be watching from the side—if Liu Xigua and the others manage to kill him, all the better; I can drag them out into the open afterward.”

“Ha ha, that would be a fine outcome indeed.” Zong Feixiao laughed. “Truly, this man has made enemies of the Qi family, the Great Radiance Sect, the remnants of the Fang bandits, and countless noble clans and figures of the martial world besides—that he’s survived this long is remarkable in itself. Now that the Right Chancellor has fallen, I confess I’m rather curious to see how he manages to keep surviving in these narrow cracks.”

The two chatted and laughed a while longer, ate a little, and then took their leave.

Just as Zong Feixiao had predicted, once the Right Chancellor fell, the problem exposed was that Ning Yi had made a great many enemies. Even with Tong Guan’s protection during this period, it remained a time for the Bamboo Emporium to keep its tail tucked and tread carefully. Zong Feixiao had already resolved to strike the fatal blow whenever the chance arose, though he was not particularly worried about the broader situation.

His return to the capital this time was meant to help shoulder some of the caseload involving the martial world, the assassination of Qin Siyuan, and the Great Radiance Sect—though, of course, the Great Radiance Sect itself had not entered the capital; but because Qin Siyuan’s assassination within the capital’s own jurisdiction had caused such an ugly stir, several officials connected to the Qi family had been swept up in the fallout, a deliberate move by the emperor to reassert his authority.

This was, naturally, also a consequence of having come out on the losing end of this particular clash. Had Lin Zongwu succeeded in killing Qin Siyuan, and gone on to also defeat the Heart Demon, or seized whatever legacy Qin Siyuan had left behind, Lin Zongwu himself might still have faced a warrant for his arrest in the time that followed—but the Great Radiance Sect would have gained momentum to enter the capital regardless, and the officials connected to the Qi family would not have fared nearly so badly, since it would have signaled their own rising fortunes. As it stood, however, Tong Guan had come out ahead, and the Qi family, Liang Shicheng, and Li Bangyan’s faction had all taken a beating; several officials found themselves swept into prison as a result. Though charged with differing crimes, all of them were, to greater or lesser degrees, connected to the coming task of completing the Yellow River defensive line.

Such was the nature of officialdom—when power changes hands, the struggle for advantage grows fiercest of all. Meanwhile, within the martial world, the Ministry of Justice had already made a considerable number of arrests in proper fashion. That evening, Zong Feixiao spent the whole night interrogating prisoners, and by the following afternoon led his men out of the ministry to investigate the homes or hideouts of several of the accused. Around noon, he visited the home of one martial-world figure, located in Sanhuai Lane on the western side of Bianliang—a shabby, run-down household. With the husband arrested, only a woman remained. After a round of searching and a brief interrogation of the woman, the group left; but not long after, Zong Feixiao sent his attendants away and doubled back on his own.

The martial artist had been arrested on suspicion of secretly following the Manichaean faith, the Great Radiance Sect. Zong Feixiao called the woman back into the room and shut the door behind him with a reverse hand. For a brief moment, a woman’s cries and sobs could be heard from within the room. But after a spell of slapping and beating, only pleas for mercy remained—and soon, even those fell silent. Zong Feixiao vented himself thoroughly within the room, then held the woman and comforted her gently for a while, leaving behind a few pieces of broken silver before finally emerging, thoroughly satisfied.

That afternoon, he went to contact two informants he had planted within the Bamboo Emporium to gather information, reviewing the Emporium’s recent activities—finding nothing out of the ordinary. That night he spent half the evening at a brothel, and near dawn, went to the Ministry of Justice’s prison to drag out the woman’s husband for interrogation under torture, silently putting him to death.

In the half year following the Jurchen onslaught, many of the capital’s underlying weaknesses had come to light—insufficient manpower, an overwhelming volume of affairs, and a constant influx of every sort of person into the capital besides. Matters concerning the martial world had always been the private domain of a handful of chief constables, with little oversight from above—after all, these people spent their days fighting and killing lawlessly among themselves; having made a habit of disregarding the law, their deaths were of little consequence to anyone. Zong Feixiao, with his years at the Ministry of Justice, had grown thoroughly practiced in such matters. In ordinary times he might not have gone so far—but during this particular stretch, it seemed there would be no consequences at all.

After indulging himself in this manner, he slept a while, spent the morning continuing his interrogations, and in the afternoon returned once more to Sanhuai Lane, calling the woman into the room to abuse her again. Though her household was poor and she paid little attention to her appearance, once undressed she was not unpleasant at all. Zong Feixiao took a liking to the sound of her crying, and over the following days returned several more times, even entertaining the notion of keeping her as his own private mistress, tucked away somewhere.

With so many great affairs unfolding in the capital, and the upper echelons locked in fierce competition over the power tied to the Yellow River defensive line, officials were being brought down every other day. With barely half a month having passed since Qin Siyuan’s death, few people remembered him anymore. The Ministry of Justice’s caseload shifted daily, though after enough time, the substance of it all tended to blur together. Amid handling cases and applying pressure to various factions, Zong Feixiao also kept an eye on the Bamboo Emporium, though there was still nothing new to report—only that the flow of goods had grown somewhat busier, which was, in any case, only to be expected as the Emporium prepared to reopen fully in the capital.

By the twenty-seventh day of the fifth month, several more cases had piled up on Zong Feixiao’s desk. One involved two groups of martial-world toughs who had fought in the street and injured passersby, requiring Zong Feixiao to step in and apply some pressure. Another involved two martial heroes who had chosen the estate of a wealthy capital merchant, Squire Lü, as the site for a duel, intending to settle their score atop the man’s rooftop, both to determine a victor and to avoid capture by Squire Lü’s household guards. Both men proved genuinely formidable in their skill, and after Squire Lü reported the matter, Zong Feixiao went there that afternoon and, after considerable effort, managed to capture the pair.

Having escorted the two out-of-town heroes back to the Ministry of Justice, Zong Feixiao, seeing nothing else pressing, went again to Sanhuai Lane, forcing the woman to prepare him a meal, and toward evening set out from the capital with seven constables in tow, heading toward a small hillock west of the city.

The place, not far from the capital, was called Huyugang, or Guard Ridge—originally grown prosperous because of a nearby post station, forming a settlement with more than a dozen shops. When the Jurchens came, it had once been destroyed, but had since been rebuilt. A large compound belonging to the Bamboo Emporium was also situated there.

Arriving at the ridge, Zong Feixiao sent the other seven constables ahead to get something to eat, agreeing on a rough time to meet back up, then walked off from the ridge himself, turning toward a dwelling roughly a hundred zhang away.

Because of the earlier destruction wrought by the Jurchens, this dwelling was now crudely constructed of bamboo and timber, dark inside with no lamp lit, seemingly empty. Only after Zong Feixiao entered did someone speak from within the darkness. This was a routine meeting—yet by the time the person inside had finished speaking, Zong Feixiao’s entire demeanor had already turned frightening.

His massive frame emerged from the dwelling. The sky held no starlight; in the distance, somewhat higher up, the lights of Guard Ridge’s market street glimmered faintly. Zong Feixiao glanced around, then drew a deep breath and, moving quickly yet silently, headed toward Guard Ridge.

Some ten-odd zhang out, a faint, fragmented sound suddenly reached him from behind—whether it was an animal running, or someone being struck down, he could not tell. Zong Feixiao did not look back. He clenched his jaw, his eyes flaring wide, and broke into a full sprint. But at the very first step, figures came tearing through the darkness around him, tumbling and coiling like dragons and serpents rising from the earth, a great surging wave!

Zong Feixiao’s right hand tore free his steel whip, striking at the figure charging toward him—a soft thud, grass stems flying up—it was only a scarecrow, mounted on a long spear. But formidable as he was, known even in the martial world as the “God-Striking Whip,” even as the scarecrow burst apart, his whip still struck true against the thrusting spear. At the same instant, another figure lunged at him! A long whip lashed out sideways, entangling his left hand, and a blade flashed forward without a sound!

The long whip snapped taut, yanking the distant shadow on the left flying to the ground; the one lunging from the right was likewise sent flying. Zong Feixiao’s body brushed past a hunchbacked swordsman. His severed head was still spinning through the air when his powerful body, like a runaway war-chariot, took five more staggering steps forward before collapsing motionless to the ground.

The hunchback in the darkness picked up the head and wrapped it in a sack. More figures gathered from around them, clustering briefly around the headless corpse to look it over. Zong Feixiao had wielded twin whips, but at that final moment he had only drawn one—his left hand was still clutching a signal flare, frozen in the gesture of one about to loose it into the sky.

Not far off, the scattered lights along Guard Ridge’s market street still glimmered. The seven constables were there, eating and drinking, waiting for their superior’s return. In the darkness, shadow after shadow moved silently toward them.

These constables never returned to the city of Bianliang again.

At that very same hour, along the banks of the Yellow River to the north, a stretch of torches burned in an unbroken line, as laborers and soldiers hauled earth and stone up onto the levee. On one hand, the summer flood season had already arrived, and the embankments needed urgent reinforcement; on the other, this was the preliminary work for what would become the Yellow River defensive line—the eyes of the entire court were fixed on this stretch of river, with high officials coming to inspect the area almost daily.

A little further north, at the old Qi family estate, the great scholar named Qi Yan had already lost his temper. In the dead of night, he sat bent over his desk, still writing letters, before dispatching trusted household guards and aides to the capital to attend to matters.

Within the capital, Li Gang stepped out of his room and sat for a while, looking at the lamplight still burning in the courtyard where his aides worked. In his eyes shone a light of both frustration and tragic resolve, yet his hands remained clenched into fists. After a moment, something seemed to occur to him, and he returned to his room to attend to official business once more.

Qin Hui was entertaining guests. In the gentle night breeze, he spoke pleasantly with the two men who had come to visit. Word was already spreading through the court that he would be the one to succeed to the position of Right Chancellor, but in his own mind, he was already considering whether he might reach directly for the position of Left Chancellor as well, given that Li Gang’s fall seemed imminent.

At Tong Guan’s residence, the prince was discussing various matters with Tan Zhen and the others, Li Bingwen present as well. For the Prince of Guangyang’s household, two matters now mattered most: first, that Li Bingwen and the others truly bring the Wurui Battalion firmly under control; second, that the Yellow River defensive line, being built specifically against the Jurchen threat, ought properly to be under the direct control of the military. Back at Taiyuan, Tong Guan had understood the true fighting strength of his troops and had abandoned the city rather than waste them—this time, he hoped to see one thing through, truly and completely, without interference from anyone.

“After old Qin’s departure, what he left behind still has its uses. I hope to put it to good purpose. If the Yellow River falls, Bianliang will not survive.”

“That Ning Liheng harbors ulterior motives—he means to use this to kill with a borrowed blade. Your Highness must not let his guard down.”

“I am well aware of it. This man Ning Yi has no other options left to him—he hopes I’ll use this against others on his behalf, but I intend to use it to do good work instead. What matters is that this comes from my own will—why should I care about his petty little wishes? Tomorrow I’ll have someone give Li Bangyan’s household fair warning. If he won’t yield, I’ll no longer tolerate him.”

As a great commanding general of the Wu Dynasty, he had seen more than his share of incompetent allies and had grown thoroughly weary of them. With the dynasty now in peril, he hoped to turn the tide—this, too, would be his final moment of glory.

Everyone had their own affairs to attend to. Along the roads and waterways radiating out from the capital, thousands upon thousands of people, for all manner of reasons, were converging on the city. During this period, a total of thirteen groups had set out from the same place, converging on the capital by different routes—some escort guards, some merchant caravans, some bands of craftsmen traveling together. The fastest among them had already passed Xuchang, now a hundred and fifty li from Bianliang.

This was a large merchant caravan of over two hundred people, now camped in the mountains for the night. At one end of the camp, on a patch of grass, two young men spoke in low voices.

“Brother Xiaofeng, what do you suppose the capital actually looks like?”

“How would I know.” The young man with a short beard on his chin, named Zhuo Xiaofeng, gave this reply.

“Haven’t you all been to Hangzhou before, Brother Xiaofeng?”

“Hangzhou isn’t the capital.”

“I’ve lived in the mountains my whole life, never seen a big city. Hearing you all talk about it, I’ve been dying to see it—glad I got to come along this time, though it’s a shame we didn’t stop to look properly at the big cities we passed along the way…”

“Keep babbling like that, and I won’t bring you next time.”

“Mm, I’ll stop.” The simple young mountain lad fell silent. The two sat for a while. Zhuo Xiaofeng merely gazed up at the sparse stars scattered across the sky—he knew a great deal, spoke sensibly, and was skilled in martial arts besides; the young men of the mountains all rather admired him. After a moment, the other spoke up again in a low voice.

“Brother Xiaofeng, I just want to ask one thing—this trip to the capital, will we get to meet that teacher who taught you your skills? Is that right?”

Zhuo Xiaofeng’s gaze sharpened. “Who told you that?”

“Someone… someone in the caravan was talking about it. I… I overheard it by chance.”

“Who said it!?” Zhuo Xiaofeng stood up. “We were told to keep our mouths shut—did all of you treat that as empty words? Take me to find whoever it was, right now!”

“Xiao— Xiaofeng-brother…” The young man, startled, stammered a few words trying to explain himself. Zhuo Xiaofeng frowned. “This is no joking matter. Right now. Immediately!”

The stars above hung dim and faint; the two walked into the camp, one after the other, stirring a brief flurry of activity before things settled once more.

The warm summer breeze carried a sense of reassurance. Across this land, lights flickered here and there, sparse in some places, unbroken in others—now that the Jurchens had withdrawn, people could finally know some measure of peace. Countless souls hurrying about, each pursuing their own affairs—this too, in the end, was simply the nature of this world between heaven and earth. In the capital, Tie Tianying was at that moment in the Fan Tower, chatting pleasantly with an aide from Liang Shicheng’s household.

In the now largely forgotten Ning Manor, in the warm yellow lamplight of the study, Ning Yi sat at his desk, fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the tabletop, calculating the many things he had been working through ever since news of Su Tan’er’s fall into the water had reached him, along with the many gaps and contingencies still needing attention.

Zhu Biao entered from outside the door.

“Just now, outside the city… Zong Feixiao has been killed.”

Ning Yi looked up at him, faintly puzzled at first, then his expression turned serious, his brow furrowing.

“Why kill him? You’ve all overstepped…”

Zhu Biao leaned in close and spoke a few words in his ear, low, explaining the reason. Ning Yi said nothing further; in the lamplight, only his brow furrowed a little deeper. He tapped the table, and after a moment—

“This complicates things unnecessarily. All of you…”

He gave a few instructions; Zhu Biao listened, nodded, and went out. The night lamplight remained quiet, stretching on through the city, waiting for a new day, and whatever more it would bring.

The next day, Tie Tianying learned of Zong Feixiao’s disappearance. And at that same moment, hundreds upon hundreds of people were, hour by hour, silently closing the distance to the capital, waiting for the moment they would finally converge…