At the Wurui Battalion, on the great drill grounds where ten thousand men had gathered, the reek of blood hung thick in the air, and no one paid it any mind.
Watching the Lüliang cavalry suddenly slaughter Li Bingwen and the others, no one stepped forward. Ever since the battle of Summer Village, the officers and soldiers of this army had always harbored uncertainty about their own fate—and because of the discussion system Ning Yi had previously introduced, this uncertainty had seeped down from the top through every level, into every man’s heart.
But after Qin Shaoqian was stripped of his post, rumors had shifted three times a day; among the lower-ranking officers, though some had cried out that the nation was doomed and a common man’s fury was justified, in the end none had dared step forward and act. Only He Zhicheng, in the capital, had brawled with a princely household’s guards over Qin Shaoqian’s honor—and had been flogged with the military rod for it in the end.
Luo Shengzhou had come and gone; Li Bingwen had arrived, backed by that god of war of the Wu Dynasty, Tong Guan—when such weight bore down, no one dared act. And later still, when Qin Shaoqian was exiled and killed, and Ning Yi was brought to the Wurui Battalion to stand witness, the men watching could no longer find words to say.
What went unspoken on the surface did not mean there was no resentment held within. These feelings, pressed down and buried, meant that many had, in truth, been hoping for something to happen. And so, when the heavy cavalry had trampled Li Bingwen to death before the drill grounds, the crowd had reacted with shock, or with a kind of dazed realization—but no one had moved. Yet once Han Jing spoke those final words, true panic finally set in.
As the cavalry began surging out through the camp gate, someone in the crowd suddenly shouted: “General Han! What are we to do!” This was a young officer, evidently caught up in the fever of the moment, wanting to follow the Lüliang men into this great undertaking. Not far off, Han Jing reined in his horse and stopped.
“Those of you with families, homes to protect—I won’t force this on you!”
He left these words behind and turned to leave. The ground rumbled as the surging tide of iron hooves, like a great dragon, thundered toward the capital, and before long, the mounted force vanished from view. Sunlight poured down, seeming almost to pale in color, as the soldiers on the drill grounds looked toward He Zhicheng and the other officers standing before them—some staring after the direction the cavalry had gone, others staring at the bloodshed filling the grounds, all of them seemingly lost.
Murmurs began rising through the ranks—the Lüliang men had rebelled, meant to kill the emperor, Li Bingwen was dead, the Wurui Battalion had no master now, what were they to do next. The officers at the front were still eyeing one another; He Zhicheng and Sun Ye stood together, murmuring quietly. From within the crowd, someone spoke up: “This can’t be allowed to stand!”
Someone beside him agreed: “Indeed—they’re only two thousand strong. Going to the capital, they surely can’t succeed. And we’re left behind here, with nowhere to run.”
“I have family—I can’t join a rebellion…”
“I have none, but even so…”
The crowd broke into a clamor of discussion. Seeing that the officers above had not yet settled on a course of action, and seemingly taking their silence as tacit permission, some men grew impatient and began speaking out. Among the Wurui Battalion’s men, there were, after all, plenty of soldiers and officers with families of their own; before long, someone said: “We should light the beacon fires, sound the warning first.”
Someone else said: “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Why wouldn’t I?! They’re courting death—are we to die alongside them?”
“Since the battle of Summer Village, who’s loyal and who’s treacherous, who works for the nation and its people and who schemes to harm it—can’t you see it?! Light the beacon, you traitor!”
“I’m the traitor?! They’re the ones who abandoned us—”
In no time at all, a fierce argument had broken out. Amid the debate and the taking of sides, many still watched the officers at the front for guidance. Just then, Sun Ye and He Zhicheng began arguing as well—Sun Ye favored lighting the beacon towers, while He Zhicheng favored rebellion. Someone in the crowd had already begun shouting: “General Sun, we’re with you! Let’s see who dares stop us!”
“There’s no room for hesitation at a time like this.”
The officers spoke loudly, leading a group of men toward the exit; not a few others rushed out of formation to join them as well. He Zhicheng waved a hand. “Stop! Hold them back!”
Within the ranks, men on both sides drew their blades and rushed forward, forming lines. The scene descended immediately into chaos, and just as the confusion reached its peak, someone shouted: “This rebellion was planned by Master Ning, and right now he’s being received in audience by the benighted sovereign… do you all want to die!”
Amid the chaos, the crowd’s voices dropped for an instant, then resumed their arguing and standoff—but gradually, a strange sense of unease began spreading through the great formation on the drill grounds. Men began pointing, whispering to one another, as more and more eyes turned in one direction; then, after a few more words exchanged, silence fell.
A line of figures approached from that direction. The one in front was tall and imposing, and seemed to walk with some difficulty, a slight limp in his gait, wrapped in a cloak—as he approached, the unrest within the ranks fell suddenly still. This man’s face bore a knife scar, a full beard, and one blind eye.
“Qin… General Qin…”
Just when the map had unrolled to reveal the dagger within, the man believed dead had returned.
“Lay down your weapons!” Sun Ye, who had earlier favored lighting the beacon towers, pointed at the group about to rush out, saying this. The crowd hesitated slightly, and Sun Ye called out, “Don’t worry! Those with families won’t be forced into anything! Do you think Master Ning’s scheme wouldn’t have accounted for you all!?”
Under the newly risen morning sun, the group that had just been on the verge of boiling over set down their weapons. The one-eyed officer stood before the ranks; summer’s white clouds drifted across the sky, and before long, across the vast drill grounds, the assembled formations began to gradually disperse…
This would be the most extraordinary day in the lives of many of these men. What the future held, no one yet knew.
…
“A eunuch…”
What was he trying to accomplish…
Outside Bianliang, before Qin Shaoqian’s grave, Tie Tianying had, for a moment, lost himself in a daze—but soon, he had made his decision. He pointed at nearly half his men. “Go find the coroner and stand watch here! The rest of you, come with me back to the city!”
Back to Bianliang—to arrest Ning Yi!
After days of racing back and forth, he had finally found the breakthrough he needed, and had finally uncovered the true cause of Zong Feixiao’s death. There was no more room for delay with Ning Yi now. The party of more than twenty riders raced along the side paths toward the main road. Recalling Zong Feixiao’s death, Tie Tianying warned his men: “Everyone stay alert, watch for ambush!” In truth, morning had already passed by now; though they rode along side paths, they occasionally passed travelers on the road. Before long, the path they followed would merge into the main post road leading into the city. Ahead, at a small rise, travelers had stopped on both sides of the slope, looking off toward the capital, as though watching something.
“Don’t stop, ride into the city and gather men! Whatever’s happened—”
The mounted column rounded the bend, hooves thudding, gradually slowing to a halt.
“That… what is that…”
Ahead, the post road cut toward Bianliang’s city gates; beneath sunlight and drifting clouds, the plain stretched wide, and across that open sky, a tide-like column of cavalry surged directly toward the city gates of Bianliang.
“Is that… the Lüliang men?”
“What… what’s happening…”
Someone in the group murmured aloud. Tie Tianying wheeled his horse in a circle, staring off toward Bianliang’s distant Wansheng Gate, and said in a low voice: “Close the gates… close the gates…”
At the city gate, merchants and travelers scattered and fled in every direction; atop the city wall, someone toppled and fell from the outer side of the massive ramparts.
…
Blood sprayed in every direction!
Atop the walls of Wansheng Gate, Du Sha swung his blade, cutting a path forward as he advanced, while around him the soldiers of the Overlord Blade Camp pressed steadily in.
Across the distant plain, the tide of iron cavalry surged closer.
…
“The Western Army has rebelled—”
“The Wurui Battalion has rebelled—”
“The great army enters the city, to kill the benighted sovereign—Suanzao Gate has fallen—”
Along one side of Bianliang, a warhorse raced down the long street; a rider bound with bandages shouted these words at the top of his lungs.
…
Near Liang Gate, the crowds in the street were startled by the sudden outbreak of violence and fled in every direction, and the surrounding blocks likewise erupted into chaos one after another.
Constables surged forward in response.
Atop the high city wall, Zhu Biao raised a hand. “Hold this position—one stick of incense’s time.”
…
At the Ministry of War’s offices.
Sensing the sudden upheaval, someone rushed out through the gate, looking in every direction; mounted messengers came racing in as well. The soldiers at the gate, and the officers who happened to be gathered there, were mostly thrown into confusion, uncertain what was happening within the city.
A tremendous rumbling sound suddenly rang out.
Across the street, the high wall of a compound collapsed in one continuous section, dust and smoke rising into the air; beyond that cloud of dust, seven cylindrical wooden objects stood arranged in a row. The first man to make out their shape through the haze opened his mouth, his throat suddenly dry.
By now, some of the Ministry of War’s officers already had some notion of what an elm-wood cannon was.
The distance between the two sides—
The width of a single street.
…
The young woman called Xigua stood in a courtyard, her blade case slung across her back, looking up along with more than ten others, watching as a great sack was slowly rising into the air.
That enormous sack, stitched together from dozens of pieces of cloth of unknown material, was now being inflated by giant bellows connected via pipes to seven or eight furnaces set up around the courtyard.
It was, in truth, an enormous sky lantern.
Beneath the lantern hung a basket.
“I’m coming… I’m coming…”
She swayed her body slightly, murmuring softly.
Atop the palace walls, the patrolling guards had already spotted that rising cloth balloon—and roughly a li away, in another compound, a second such balloon was also swelling and rising into the air.
In the distance, black smoke had begun rising over the city.
…
The Zichen Hall.
Amid the solemn, dignified atmosphere, footsteps mounted the golden steps.
Du Chengxi rushed forward from beside the imperial throne.
In this great hall, on this particular morning, in the instant that gunfire suddenly rang out, in the span of a single breath, a scene unfolded that no one present had ever witnessed before.
That figure’s footsteps seemed slow yet were in truth swift as lightning; in an instant, he had crossed the hall. At Tong Guan’s furious roar, his body flew backward, his head slamming hard against the golden steps. Amid the blood, someone stepped forward two paces, only to be splattered as well—Qin Hui, quick as his reflexes were, failed to catch hold of that figure; Du Chengxi rushed forward two steps as well, and only then did the guards outside begin peering in.
A blade slid free from the figure’s left sleeve; Du Chengxi’s body was sent flying, hurtling across Zhou Zhe’s field of vision, over the back of the throne itself, smashing the screen and porcelain vases arrayed behind the imperial seat into a scattered ruin—in an instant, amid a clattering crash, the beautifully carved, lattice-worked long-burning lamp post was still toppling, crashing down onto the throne. Zhou Zhe sat there, his vision swimming, as a blade-edge came thrusting toward him; he opened his mouth, reaching out a hand to grab at it.
In this brief span, the hall erupted into a chaos of crashing, booming, shattering sounds, mixed with Tong Guan’s curses and cries of agony. By now, others too had begun shouting; the great men at the very center of the realm bellowed, the sound deafening, some already surging forward. And in that small space before the throne, Zhou Zhe’s gaze was dazed and pained, his hand reaching instinctively for the blade’s edge. Not a single minister present managed to notice, though, that in the very next instant, the figure’s right hand had seized the collar of the Son of Heaven’s robe and hoisted his entire body into the air with a single arm!
Then, turning, he slammed him down with all his strength!
The emperor’s body fell from the air, before the throne, upon the golden steps, striking the ground with tremendous force—his right hand touched down first, then his head struck the floor, sending up a cloud of dust. The man rushing forward at the front blinked, for blood had sprayed forth, splattering across his face. The emperor’s right forearm had already snapped; pale, jagged bone jutted out through his sleeve, and he writhed in agony.
By now, few could pay any attention to the noise. Some shouted, some cursed, some rushed forward, but far more stood frozen in shock, their minds ringing, struggling to comprehend this impossible scene unfolding before them.
Atop the golden steps, before the throne, that figure, having struck Zhou Zhe down, sat down on the step beside him.
Ning Yi sat down at the very top of the golden steps, his gaze calm as he surveyed everyone before him—those ministers, some hysterical, some in disbelief, some glaring with accusation, some utterly stunned. His blade-edge pressed down upon the emperor, who still writhed in agony on the ground; then, with the flat of the blade, he struck the man’s head hard!
The minister nearest him stood only three paces away—Qin Hui, blood spattered across his face. Not far off, Li Gang’s hair and beard bristled in fury as he hurled curses. Countless different expressions surfaced on their faces, yet within the entire hall, not a single soul dared step forward. Ning Yi’s gaze passed over their heads, out through the hall’s doors, where sunlight burned fierce, and beyond, the sky no doubt held its leisurely drifting white clouds.
The city of Bianliang had already fallen into chaos.
Outside the city, along the distant post road, a suffocating moment had arrived.
Ahead, a surging tide of iron cavalry poured into the city!
The city of Bianliang, which had held out for over a month against the Jurchen assault, now stood with its gates thrown wide open, entirely undefended.
At the entrance of the Ministry of War, cannon fire thundered out; near Liang Gate, cannon fire rang out as well. At every major node capable of “blossoming” throughout Bianliang, explosions bloomed in an instant, one after another. At the Imperial Guard Command headquarters, Chen Tuozi and his men had already blasted through the outer wall and charged straight in, cutting down the Imperial Guard officers within and seizing command tokens and seals. Along the outer wall of the palace city, many Imperial Guards had been drawn by the two giant rising balloons—but by now, unrest had already broken out within the palace itself. At one point along the western palace wall, several hundred men suddenly surged forward; some carried a stack of folded ladders, fitted with ropes and winches, and as the crowd hauled on the ropes, the ladder rose section by section, higher and higher! Two such siege ladders were set against the palace wall! Others among them held more than a dozen modified crossbows fitted with ropes, firing grappling hooks up onto the wall.
They surged upward as one! Climbing the ropes, swift as mountain monkeys!
In the small waiting room beside the imperial study, Hongti stood up and walked toward the door. Even here, the guards had already sensed the chaos unfolding; a formidable palace guard moved to intercept her, reaching out a hand—Hongti raised her palm in turn. The guard hesitated for the briefest instant, and her palm came down upon him, light as a feather.
In that instant, his body was flung backward two zhang—yet the crown of his skull had already shattered. In the last flickering image left in his vision, he saw his own long blade, somehow now in the woman’s hand, as she stepped out of the room; beneath the eaves, where his two companions had stood, blood erupted violently, scattering them apart!
In that instant, what he saw seemed nothing less than the depths of hell itself…
The hot-air balloon rose into the sky.
In the basket below, Xigua looked down upon the entire capital spread beneath her; all around, everything was expanding outward—blood and fire, conflict and slaughter, already unfolding. At Wansheng Gate, Liang Gate, Lize Gate, roads were opening up as the Lüliang cavalry surged along the great streets, sweeping toward the palace city!
Sage-Duke, I have arrived.
In this moment, she thought of Hangzhou…
Time flowed past in an imperceptible river, and so many things slowly slipped away. And now, this moment’s future had arrived, bearing down upon her!
…
Where blood and fire converged, a scent of gunpowder smoke drifted even to places unseen; the ground trembled, the air grew restless, yet deep beneath it all lay a strange stillness. He sat there, and at times, in a quiet depth no one else could perceive, tangled shadows and light would rise and swirl.
“Young Master!” A serious young maidservant’s figure, twin braids bobbing at the back of her head.
“My husband.” A lady bowed in greeting, a smile breaking across her face—she no longer held herself guarded.
A woman in a long skirt chased after a hen, appearing and vanishing in the mist.
An old man laughed by the riverbank in Jiangning, setting down a game piece: “Liheng.”
“Left three circles, right three circles, twist your neck, shake your hips…”
“…What terrible thing have I done now?”
“You can only ever become… a third-rate master.”
“On Lüliang Mountain… we didn’t live like human beings…”
As great snow fell, amid the wind and storm, a woman beside him reached out her hand, her smile clear and bright.
In Hangzhou city, smoke of battle drifted, blood rose into the air.
“What we scholars must do above all else…” an old man cupped his hands within a prison cell, “is guard the Way!”
“I’m only a shepherd. I’m not that good. I only hope they… can all get their share of steamed buns.”
“We were once afraid of nothing under heaven, but slowly, this world taught us fear… I want to tell them, some great men are not afraid.”
“Bao Daoyi, you are going to die—”
“Why did you lie to me—my father… was killed by the court—”
“The men of Liangshan, they…”
“I never meant to kill you, but I must have Ning Liheng’s life!”
“Try me—see if I still play by the martial world’s rules!”
“I want to wipe out Liangshan. Please help me. Don’t worry… you can keep up.”
“When a person walks this world, they will meet with tigers.”
“…And so I eat men!”
Ning Yi struck Li Kui once across the head with his staff, then again, and looked into his eyes: “See if you can last a lifetime!”
In a run-down courtyard, an old man kicked Lin Chong out through the gate.
“A scholar must have a ruler—to measure heaven and earth, to set the standard of rules. A martial artist must have a blade—when the world cannot proceed by rules… kill the rules themselves!”
“Tell me what you want, and I will get it for you, tied up with a ribbon…”
“I want… peace under heaven?”
“All who follow the Manichaean faith must die!!!”
“So sentimental…”
“Heart Demon! Ning Yi! No matter how fierce and formidable you become! I will find you—”
In the night wind, the last banners flew: “The Law is equal for all, with no high or low. Eliminate evil, root out tyranny… may the people know eternal joy.”
“Brother Li… please guarantee the roads of commerce remain open.”
“There are frozen bones lying by the road…”
“You are making enemies of every great clan under heaven.”
“Zhang Jue…”
“This old man wished only to guide human desire toward heaven’s principle…”
“On Lüliang Mountain, they did not live like human beings…”
“The Blood Bodhisattva’s fearsome name spreads far and wide…”
“You’re Hongti’s husband? Hongti has married too! I’m her sister Duanyun. When we were young, we went hungry together… Husband and mother-in-law, they’ve both gone out, and haven’t come back yet… they still haven’t come back…”
“Ning Liheng, after Hangzhou, you never thought… I would stand before you alive again, did you…”
“It surely wasn’t easy…”
“…That sky… we ran into horse bandits. I was going to die… but then, she just came out like that, holding her sword, ah… she… she was so beautiful…”
“The two of you—live well, live good lives!”
Luo Jinyan knelt down: “My teacher erred, but out of necessity.” “This disciple is willing to stake his own life on this—I ask only that my teacher grant me this chance…”
“You have no more chances left…”
“Xiao Chan… mother and child are safe.”
“The Jurchens have come.”
An army like a flood tide, surging endlessly across the wilderness, crushing all that could be crushed, countless people driven from their homes, fleeing in every direction.
“This nation owes a debt.”
“How many lives will it take to repay it?”
“Come back alive…”
A voice echoed in the darkness, a roar from some unknown place, shaking heaven and earth: “Kill Nian Han—”
“We’re all human—why can’t we win…” A sound of weeping rose up.
“My hand—my hand—” A shrill, agonized cry.
Countless people struggling and fleeing, rising up from the trenches, awakening, sacrificing themselves, wave after wave falling at Summer Village. An officer whose name no one knew, facing the surging army, fought to the very last, and was strung up on a flagpole and whipped to death.
He said: “We have lost—don’t go—”
“Don’t let yourselves be used…”
Blood and tears wound on, unyielding even unto death.
“I… I ate you all—”
In the air, someone seemed to be crying out—countless voices crying out, appearing, then vanishing again.
The entire capital was boiling over—fire, explosions, blood, slaughter, the clashing roar of opposing shouts like thunder, within the hall and without, officials and imperial guards rushing about, one thing after another unfolding. In the deepest place no one else would ever know, such a conversation took place.
“Old Qin, ah. Looking back on it now, you exhausted every ounce of your strength along this road, yet always without effect. You bore the blame for the Black Water Pact, hoping the rest might find their resolve—they never did. After your restoration, you exhausted yourself over the northern campaign, going against the grain, offending so many people, and the troops sent north still couldn’t fight. At Bianliang, at Taiyuan, you kept desperately trying to fight your way out toward some path forward—and when at last such a path appeared, no one took it. Everything you did, in the end, came to nothing—people threw stones at you, hurled filth at you. In your heart, how did that feel?”
“This old man… felt great pain… pain like a knife through the heart, for what might yet befall them in the days to come.”
“Mm.”
“And Liheng?”
“Hm?”
“Liheng… how does he feel?”
“…”
…
For those who sacrificed themselves along this road, for what has already befallen them…
—Pain like a knife through the heart.
…
At a certain moment, he seized Zhou Zhe by the hair, dragging him up into a kneeling position.
In his daze, Zhou Zhe, twisted into that painful kneeling posture, tilted his head back, and heard him murmur softly: “You… this court…”
“Don’t speak.” Ning Yi bent down, his voice low. “I’ll send you on your way.”
He pressed the blade’s edge to his neck, and drove it in.
Below, the city he had once looked down upon was still consumed by slaughter.
A new age had arrived.
…
On a yellow-brown tree trunk, a cicada nymph had shed its shell and become an insect, vibrating the air with its monotonous cry beneath the bright sunlight. The tree grew within a tall-walled courtyard; not far from its trunk, hibiscus flowers were just beginning to bud.
Before a wooden tower in the distance, a woman stood with one hand gripping the railing, gazing at the sunlight and the flowering trees ahead, lost in a trance.
Far to the south lay her homeland—but she might never be able to return to it again.
A raindrop fell with a soft patter onto a hibiscus leaf; she raised her head slightly, and in the next instant, rain was falling in earnest. She tilted her face upward, one hand clutching the collar of her robe, feeling the coolness sweeping in from beyond the eaves. From the room behind her, a tall yet gentle Jurchen general stepped out—Wanyan Xiyin, called “Gushen,” approached and rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder, gazing skyward with her.
A sudden downpour fell over the increasingly prosperous city of Dading, the ancient city that would one day be called Beijing, bathed in sunlight and rain…
At Shangjing Huiningfu, Wanyan Zonghan mounted the steps, walking into the Jurchen imperial palace to pay audience to that bear-like emperor, Wanyan Wuqimai.
As he stepped through the gate, the other man was already waiting nearby, smiling, arms open to receive him.
Two hundred li from the capital, beneath the open sky, mounted troops rode across the land; near a vast military encampment, Jurchen soldiers moved to and fro in groups, columns of horsemen coming and going. Atop the towering platform overlooking the vast drill grounds, the god of war Wanyan Zongwang stood with fists clenched, watching thousands upon thousands of Jurchen soldiers drilling below, his expression solemn, commanding without a hint of anger.
The wind blew past, the enormous banners snapping in the wind alongside his cloak. At a certain moment, he raised his fist into the wind; sunlight poured down, and ahead, the sky rang thunderous with the shouts of countless soldiers.
Killing intent spread ever outward…
…
Night.
The grass-covered plains rose and fell beneath the starlit sky like gentle ocean waves; beneath the light of stars and moon, a gray wolf raised its neck and let loose a long howl toward the moon.
The howling of the wolf pack rolled like ocean waves, though distant; across the field of vision, hoofbeats passed. One horse, two horses… gradually forming into a column of dozens, then hundreds. In the distance, yurts clustered together in firelight, the mounted party returning to this vast tribal encampment. The Mongol women came out to greet the returning warriors, laying down their riding whips, untying the cloth sacks slung across their bodies, handing over grain and treasures to those who had come home. Among the returning party, someone raised aloft a blood-red severed head—signaling the fall of yet another hero of the steppe.
The surrounding crowd, beneath the starlit night and firelight, erupted into shouts!
Several hundred zhang away, in the great central yurt of the tribe, a demonic figure rose to his feet and lifted the tent flap, stepping outside. The heroes of the steppe followed close behind him.
The night wind swept in, sweeping across this vast tribal encampment, past yurt after yurt, the bonfires burning bright, autumn’s chill drawing near.
…
Bianliang, that vast city, now wore a look of despondency; the traces left upon it by the rebellion that had once shaken the whole realm had not yet faded, and now, two-tenths of the city’s population had already departed.
In the Golden Chamber, the newly enthroned emperor sat upon the throne, looking over the memorials in his hand, wearing an expression of solemn authority; below, within the court, officials debated and argued, sharp words exchanged. A flash of bewilderment passed through the depths of his eyes…
Somewhere to the south, Lin Zongwu, that Maitreya-like figure, the greatest master under heaven, stood upon a cliff’s edge, gazing toward the northern sky. Behind him, his followers waited for his answer. At a certain moment, he waved a hand and spoke a single sentence; his followers received the command and departed.
—Then let us go to the capital.
His face carried not the slightest hint of joy.
To the north, in a small village near the post road, a man named Mu Yi sat by a millstone, watching his wife bustling about nearby, glancing off toward the distant road, a flicker of blankness passing through his eyes.
This world… has changed entirely…
In Jiangning, the young lord rushed out of the workshop, watching a great, unsuccessful cloth balloon crumble to ash in the flames…
To the west, an army marched along a road stretching endlessly onward; beside them, before and behind, mounted columns and carts followed along. This was a fleeing column standing in defiance of all under heaven—in this moment, an air of bewilderment lingered among the ranks, yet in their eyes, a fierce pride still burned.
At a certain moment, a mounted scout came riding from the rear, cutting through the column to reach a carriage positioned near the middle; a short distance ahead of the carriage, the one-eyed general was also watching him approach.
“Report! The force behind us… has caught up…”
From within the carriage, a man named Ning Yi leaned his head out, closing the small notebook he had been writing and sketching in. Ahead, the one-eyed general looked back toward him. The carriage, the scouts, the marching ranks—all continued forward. At a certain moment, Ning Yi finally spoke.
“Then let’s…” He opened his mouth.
…
“Fight.”
…
In the air, a long blade rose.
Before long, a storm of blood and slaughter would be unleashed…
The view drew back, pulling away into the sky!
It ranged across the long river of time and looped back through it—from the primordial wilderness, through the age of sowing by fire and axe, watching tribes gather and scatter, from the ancient sage-kings’ abdication to the enfeoffment of nobles by the Son of Heaven, generation after generation of people multiplying, flourishing, departing, declining, people slaughtering and contending, people loving and uniting. A chaotic age was coming; when black cavalry split open the earth, when heaven and earth would turn upside down, and heroes bathed themselves in blood—yet always, in the end, an age of prosperity would come again.
And we need only watch, and observe, hoping that whatever small points of light they leave behind here might cross this long, long river, be passed down, and endure. Until we…
—become better people.
Volume 8: The Old Cangchuan