Night settled over the land, and the forest turned the color of lead. In the small courtyard house on the mountainside, dinner was already underway when snowflakes began drifting down out of the darkness.

The voices in the courtyard grew quieter as people noticed the snow falling. Winter had arrived, and snow was only a matter of time, but once it actually came, many matters would suddenly grow more urgent.

Of course, everyone present had climbed out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood, through great winds and waves. Ever since the uprising began, they had long since come to terms with many things. This year, and likely the years after it, the troubles they would face would not be simple ones. With that understanding already settled in their hearts, all that remained was to take things one step at a time, clearing each obstacle as it came.

So after that brief lull, the laughter picked back up again. The men chatted about the many matters ahead in the light of this first snowfall. In the next room, where the women had gathered, Xigua held little Ning Ji in her arms. Turning her gaze to the window, she hesitated for a moment, but then, as the child waved his little hands about, her face broke into a smile. Su Tan’er beside her watched, and when their eyes met, she smiled warmly back.

Once heavy snow sealed off the mountains, travel would become far more difficult, and the departure of the Overlord Blade Camp southward was fast approaching.

For her, this was a complicated matter.

But then again, in this courtyard, in this valley, across this northwest, across this whole realm, complicated matters were hardly limited to just this one.

Dinner passed in a lively, cheerful atmosphere. Afterward, Ning Yi walked Qin Shaoqian outside and spoke in a low voice about serious matters. “We expected what’s happening in the capital — it doesn’t concern us much now. But here in the northwest, what to hold onto and what to let go has become a real problem. That letter you wrote, we already passed it along, hoping that Old Master Zhong might, for Chancellor Qin’s sake, take some of it to heart. But this time the Western Army still broke camp and marched south, and now they’ve been blocked halfway by Wanyan Chang’s forces — fighting has already broken out. With Li Qianshun coming from the south, something is truly about to happen in the northwest…”

Qin Shaoqian gazed at the snow falling in the night and clasped his hands together. “If the Jurchens attack Bianliang, of course Old Master Zhong would send troops to relieve it — there’s no argument to be made against that. The Western Xia picked a fine opportunity to exploit, but as for us, we haven’t even gotten our own footing steady yet. What else can we do?” He thought for a moment. “The Zhong family’s army is already tied down in the south, and the Zhe family can barely defend itself. If Liheng feels it’s worth the risk to cooperate with the Western Army, to hold the northwest together at this moment, I could go see Old Master Zhong first. Perhaps, for my father’s and my elder brother’s sake, I might be able to get a few words in.”

Ning Yi shook his head. “Too risky.”

Since their group had come to the northwest, they too hoped for stability here. But naturally, spreading the idea that the Wu Dynasty was doomed to fall was something Ning Yi’s group had to keep doing. In the early days of the rebellion, the Wurui Camp and the Lüliang cavalry had been an unmatched force within Wu territory, but such a stunning show of strength had no staying power behind it, and little resilience either. Even if no one dared oppose them for a year or two, decline was inevitable. This force, riding high on its momentary dominance, could in truth plunge off a cliff at any time.

In the limited time available, Ning Yi had predicted the Jurchens’ southern advance, while also strengthening the foundations of Green Wood Stockade and keeping a close eye on the situation in the northwest. These were the crucial factors in whether the Wurui Camp — a force with no roots to speak of — could actually put down roots at all.

During the defense of Bianliang, Qin Siyuan and Zhong Shidao had formed a deep friendship. Later, after the defense of Bianliang ended, it was plain to see how disheartened Zhong Shidao had become over what happened to the Qin family. This old man, who guarded the northwest, still had compassion in his heart, but after the regicide and rebellion, it was basically impossible to maintain relations between the two sides on the strength of that compassion alone.

Sensing the danger that might emerge in the northwest, Ning Yi had once asked Qin Shaoqian to write a letter to Zhong Shidao, hoping he would prioritize the northwest — that if the Jurchens marched south again, even if the Western Army had to deploy troops, they should still leave enough forces behind to prevent Western Xia from taking advantage of the chaos.

In truth, none of this would have escaped Zhong Shidao’s notice.

And the Zhong family’s army, having suffered heavy losses during the first defense of Bianliang, now faced a genuine dilemma over troop numbers — marching south to aid the emperor on one hand, defending the northwest on the other.

Often enough, the world never offers a choice that satisfies everyone.

When Ning Yi had Qin Shaoqian write that letter, his intent wasn’t really to sway Zhong Shidao’s decision — it was more a gesture, a way of saying: though I killed the emperor, I bear no ill will toward the northwest. And in recent times, the storytellers of the Bamboo Records had been spreading their tales in several northwest cities without being suppressed by the Zhong family — perhaps that, too, was a piece of the old man’s lingering compassion.

If both sides kept smoothing things over like this for a while longer, perhaps an opportunity for negotiation or cooperation might eventually arise. But for now, it was still far too soon.

Zhong Shidao might have seemed a kindly old man back in Bianliang, but in all his years guarding the northwest, when it came to ruthless decisiveness, he ranked among the very highest. He might well have compassion in him, but if one assumed he was soft-hearted and went knocking on his door regardless, the odds of having one’s head cut off and sent to the capital were far higher than being received as an honored guest.

With the Jurchens marching south again and the Western Army breaking camp to aid the emperor, very few troops remained in the northwest. From here, there were really only three possible paths. First, hope that the Western Army, though thin in numbers, could unite in resolve and, against slim odds, grit its teeth and hold the northwest. Second, Qin Shaoqian could go see Zhong Shidao, hoping the old man, out of regard for Qin Siyuan and Qin Shaohe, and given the dire situation in the northwest, would cooperate with the Wurui Camp to hold the region — and even if he refused, hoping he would at least let Qin Shaoqian go free. Third, simply wait and watch.

But the first possibility was far too slim. If the second one actually came to pass, that would of course be best — with the Zhong family’s acceptance, the Wurui Camp could immediately gain a real foothold in the northwest. But… how could anyone be so naive as to expect that?

Ning Yi watched the snow falling in the night and paused for a moment. “I hope Old Master Zhong, for the sake of the northwest’s common people, will cooperate with us to defend the cities. If we manage to hold on, then after this battle, the Zhong family’s army will be no different from rebels in the eyes of the court — even if Bianliang falls, the Wu Dynasty won’t yet be dead. But pinning our hopes on that isn’t very realistic. And besides, Little Cang River doesn’t even have its houses finished yet — the construction schedule is already tight, we’re short-handed as it is, getting through winter itself is hard enough. How many people could we possibly spare to send there? And if there’s even the slightest rift between the two sides, will we even be able to go on living as we have been…”

Qin Shaoqian nodded. In his own heart, he too felt this was the least likely outcome — he’d only brought it up because Ning Yi often managed things others couldn’t, so he figured he’d mention it and see. “Then… the situation in the northwest is even more troublesome.”

“Let’s discuss it further with everyone at tomorrow’s meeting.”

This was a matter that would shape what came next, and once the two of them had shared their thoughts, Qin Shaoqian took his leave. Around the courtyard, people were still chatting and laughing. Elsewhere, Xigua exchanged a few words with Fang Shuchang and the others, then took her Overlord Blade case from him and slung it across her back, as if heading off to attend to something — normally when she went out, Fang Shuchang or someone else carried the blade for her. By her own explanation, this was simply because it looked more impressive. Noticing Ning Yi’s gaze, her expression stayed even; she tilted her head slightly as snowflakes swirled around her, then turned and walked off down the side path.

It was already the time when the gathering was breaking up, so people were leaving one after another, and Xigua heading off alone wasn’t anything unusual. Before long, the people in the courtyard had all drifted away. The servants cleared things up. Tan’er and Yun Zhu sat on the corridor outside their room, watching the falling snow and chatting. When Ning Yi arrived, Tan’er said, “Why did Xigua just leave by herself?”

Though Tan’er was quite the shrewd calculator, she genuinely liked Xigua’s straightforward nature.

“She’s got her own matters to deal with too, I suppose.”

Ning Yi answered simply, then crouched down in front of the two of them and took Yun Zhu’s hand, looking at her rounded belly. “How are you? Feeling all right?”

Yun Zhu smiled and nodded. “I’m fine.” Her expression was calm and serene, though she looked a little thinner than before.

“When you run off, she worries about you every single day,” Tan’er said from beside her.

Defying all the world’s condemnation, suddenly killing the emperor and raising the banner of rebellion — the life they’d known had changed overnight, and even those closest to him found it hard to accept all at once. Whether it was Yun Zhu or Su Tan’er, both carried worry over these matters in their hearts. Yun Zhu was unwilling to voice it, only that whenever Ning Yi went out, she would worry over his safety. Tan’er was sharp and capable, but on this particular matter, she too was hardly one to simply accept things as they came.

Overnight, everyone’s life had, in truth, already changed.

Over the past half year, Yun Zhu had visibly grown thinner. Jin’er sometimes seemed adrift, without anything solid to hold onto. Tan’er, Xiao Chan, and the others, busy looking after the household, occasionally showed signs of exhaustion and fatigue as well. The bustling capital, the beautiful splendor of the south — all of it had vanished like smoke in an instant, and the familiar world had suddenly grown distant. This was an emotion anyone would feel. Ning Yi hoped that time would smooth everything over, but toward these family members of his, he still carried no small amount of guilt.

Sometimes, when he handled matters in the valley, he would bring Yuan Jin’er along. Sometimes he stayed up with Tan’er and Xiao Chan until the middle of the night dealing with work. But when he was with Yun Zhu, she would instead play the qin for him or tell him stories — for the women of his household, this too was a form of shared hardship and closeness. As for Ning Yi’s talk of the Wu Dynasty’s coming fall, of the whole southern sky collapsing — for people who had grown used to an age of peace and prosperity, how could such urgency really sink in so easily? Even Tan’er and Yun Zhu, the two closest to him, couldn’t quite manage it.

Only the soldiers, who had been through actual battle, who had faced the Jurchens themselves, felt it more keenly.

“Every time I go out, there are plenty of skilled fighters with me. You all know Chen Fan and the others’ martial skill — it’s not easy for anyone to kill me, so don’t worry. This time, with the Jurchens marching south and Bianliang falling, everything is really only just beginning. Us lot holing up here in this little mountain nook — it’s really nothing to laugh at, all things considered. The years ahead won’t be easy, and I feel I owe you all for putting you through this. But some things will become clearer and clearer, and more and more people will come to understand them…”

“I don’t concern myself with any of that, and neither does Yun Zhu.” Tan’er laughed. “As long as you can be at peace, we’re at peace too.”

Though she said this, the news that had just brought heart to the people of the valley also had, for the women, a certain calming effect of its own.

“It’s just that when Miss Li hears this news, she probably won’t take it well…” Tan’er added, as the thought occurred to her.

“Her, huh…” Ning Yi thought for a moment.

“She’s probably already heard the news,” Yun Zhu said. “When you have a moment later, go see her.”

…

The night sky was a dark gray, snow was falling. Ahead, on one side wound a small river channel, on the other lay a barren mountain ridge. In the snowy night, the occasional light glimmered up ahead. With the men beside him holding torches, Ning Yi rounded the mountain path before him.

Half a year earlier, after causing a great uproar in Bianliang and leaving the capital, Ning Yi had, in effect, abducted Li Shishi. Whether one called it incidental or deliberate, for the matters he was able to handle, Ning Yi had tried to see to as many of them as possible. As for the Su family of Jiangning, Ning Yi had had people take them north by force, and they were now settled at Green Wood Stockade. As for Wang Shanyue’s family, Ning Yi had once sent people to their door — and afterward had a few of the women running the household beaten — taking only the young lady of the Wang family who had been betrothed to Zhu Biao, and burning down the Wang household’s house on top of it, as a clean break from that connection.

Once things had gone this far, there was no room left for tender sentiment. As for Shishi, the two of them had had a great deal of contact back in the capital, and even setting aside any talk of romantic feelings between them, after Ning Yi’s rebellion, there was no way Shishi’s life could have gone on well regardless. This also included his two “childhood friends,” Yu Hezhong and Chen Sifeng — Ning Yi simply smashed his way in and took them all by force, and afterward, whether they stayed or left was entirely up to them.

Over what had happened to the Qin family, Li Shishi felt indignant, but she still could not accept Ning Yi’s sudden explosion of violence. Over this, she and Ning Yi had argued several times along the way. But no matter what argument she made, it carried little weight with Ning Yi.

Afterward, Ning Yi had once had Hongti assign two female warriors to protect her, but Shishi hadn’t left because of it — she had followed the group to Little Cang River, helping Yun Zhu sort through some texts and records. As for the direction the world was heading, she couldn’t see where it led. As for Ning Yi’s regicide, she couldn’t see the necessity of it. As for the reasons behind killing the emperor, she couldn’t understand them. And as for Ning Yi himself, he too had grown into something of a stranger to her. But no matter what, for any individual caught in such circumstances, it was like a rushing river suddenly meeting a great boulder — the water seemed to catch and stall for an instant, but no matter which direction it flowed next, what lay ahead was a vast, roiling current bound to grind anything caught in it to pieces.

Ning Yi walked up toward the small lit house. Outside it, in the darkness to one side, a woman in a bulky blue robe sat on a fallen tree trunk, watching the snow. As Ning Yi approached, she turned her head to look his way.

“A woman worrying over the fate of the world — there’s no need to go without eating over it,” Ning Yi said, pausing by the path before leaving his attendants behind and walking over.

“You…” The woman named Shishi spoke in a somewhat low voice, then coughed once, paused, and asked, “Has Bianliang fallen?”

Clothes make the man, gold makes the Buddha — back in her days at Fan Tower, the women there wore silk and adorned themselves in gold and silver, and even in the coldest weather, the braziers in the tower never went cold. But here in the northwest now, even a woman whose beauty had once been renowned across the realm looked only bulky and plain. In the darkness, one could tell only that her figure was somewhat better than an ordinary woman’s, and her tone of voice carried a certain listlessness as well.

Ning Yi nodded. “Mm. It’s fallen.”

“Are you happy?”

“I suppose so. With it fallen, I can finally stand on my own two feet.”

“Hundreds of thousands of people in that city…”

“I predicted it would fall, which is why I left. I predicted that those hundreds of thousands, even added all together, couldn’t defeat a mere few tens of thousands, so I wasn’t willing to let myself be killed alongside them.”

Shishi lowered her head slightly. “You still talk this way — those were hundreds of thousands of people…”

Ning Yi sat down on the trunk beside her. “The first time the Jurchens came south, we held the capital, but many people died. Still, everyone believed Bianliang could be defended, so merchants and all sorts of drifting folk from every direction gathered in the capital. After I killed Zhou Zhe, people realized something was wrong, and the population of the capital scattered — dropped by nearly twenty percent. Looking on the bright side, at least that twenty percent, I saved, for the time being.” He tapped the tree trunk. “Only for the time being, though…”

“I can’t out-argue you.” Shishi said quietly, then after a moment added, “That thing I asked of you before, you…”

“I’ve arranged two paths for you — either go south to some small town and live under a different name, or take the roundabout way to Dali. If you’re careful, there’s no reason you couldn’t live out a peaceful, stable life. You got dragged into all this — that much I owe you.”

The snow drifted down silently. The two of them, seated on the fallen trunk, spoke in even tones, and once that was said, they both fell silent. In the face of such upheaval, words could offer little comfort. After this, she would head south, and no matter what, would leave the life she had once known far behind — while this army would remain at Little Cang River, struggling to survive. Thinking of this, sorrow rose up in Shishi’s heart. “Is there really no way to talk you out of this?”

There was really nothing more to be said on the matter. After a moment of silence, Ning Yi smiled faintly in the darkness.

…

As the snow fell over Little Cang River, a thousand li to the east, in the city of Fenzhou, fire and blood had already merged into one.

Archers outside a burning residence shot down anyone who ran out. This was the territory of Tian Hu, the Tiger King of Hebei. The general commanding this unit was named Yu Yulin. At that moment he stood at the rear of the formation, watching everything burn.

Turning around, he saw a figure standing coldly on a nearby small building, watching as well.

The burning residence belonged to Miao Cheng, a subordinate of the Second Great King Tian Bao. Miao Cheng was a man skilled in scheming, and had some talent for business dealings as well. After being placed in a position of trust, he had grown increasingly ostentatious, and eventually arrogant to the point of overreach. This time, in a power struggle, he had lost his standing, and his entire family had been put to death as a result.

The person Miao Cheng had crossed was the very woman now watching coldly from the building behind him. She wore a gray robe, looking thin and frail in the winter cold, enough to make anyone watching feel a chill just looking at her — yet she seemed entirely unaware of it, gazing at the burning estate for a moment before sitting down by the window upstairs, drinking cold tea and attending to the matters at hand.

With Miao Cheng’s entire family slaughtered, Yu Yulin turned and walked upstairs. Lamplight flickered by the window of the room; the slight figure, the cold tea, the paper and brush on the table, and the hard, dry cake in the woman’s hand together formed a picture both cold and eerily solitary — this woman lived in truly wretched conditions, and yet not a few of Tian Hu’s men had already begun to fear her.

It hadn’t always been this way.

When she’d first come under Tiger King’s banner, there had at first been something of the flavor of using her looks to please men — she’d entered Tiger King’s favor through her appearance, then earned real trust through the abilities she went on to demonstrate. Before she’d been sent on the mission to Lüliang Mountain, she’d still carried herself as a somewhat delicate, if diligent, woman. But after returning from Lüliang Mountain, she had become an entirely different person.

Yu Yulin had only learned afterward that she carried a blood feud against that “inner demon” — the murder of her father, the destruction of her family — yet somehow, whatever she experienced up on Lüliang Mountain seemed to have made her come to terms with something. She’d pushed hard for cooperation with Green Wood Stockade in trade, and had taken control of that trade route. From then on, not only did she handle matters with ruthless decisiveness, but nearly every personal desire in her life seemed to have vanished entirely. She no longer cared about her appearance, wanting only to stay neat; she was utterly indifferent to food; and toward her lodgings and clothing, she made no demands beyond what any ordinary woman might.

Sleeping on hard beds that dug into her body, eating coarse, dry cakes — over the past year or two, she had grown thin with startling speed, and had become as cold, in her whole bearing, as some venomous spider. Yet there was no denying that whatever affairs she took in hand, she managed with real skill and results. Tian Hu himself paid it little mind — if he wanted a woman, they were easy enough to come by, but people who could actually get things done were rare. With the desire of “this woman could be mine” gone from the equation, he trusted Lou Shuwan all the more instead. Yu Yulin, too, was willing to cooperate with her on many matters because of their old ties, and had gained no small advantage from it as a result.

To bear down her father’s murder for the sake of profit, to cut off all personal desire, seeking only to strengthen herself — Yu Yulin knew the woman before him had no martial skill to speak of; in a contest of raw strength, he could snuff out her life with a single finger. And yet, over these recent times, she had come to occupy, in his mind, a place that could genuinely be called frightening. He simply could no longer figure out what, in the end, this woman was actually after.

This time, with the Jurchens marching south a second time and the whole realm thrown into chaos, there were plenty of voices within Tiger King’s court urging that they seize Green Wood Stockade and strike at the Wurui Camp rebels — that doing so would win them the goodwill of the common people, and that even if they couldn’t defeat the Wurui Camp outright, seizing Green Wood Stockade while it was vulnerable would still be a shrewd move. But Lou Shuwan had opposed this. Miao Cheng had openly accused her, in court, of having old ties to that regicidal rebel, of eating from one bowl while serving another master.

While this political struggle at court was unfolding, Yu Yulin had still been out in the field. Not long after, he received Lou Shuwan’s instructions to come here, carrying Tian Hu’s written order, and today he had carried out the killing of Miao Cheng’s entire family.

In the lamplight, one could still make out the fine, delicate contours the woman’s face must once have had. She looked up, greeted Yu Yulin, and offered her thanks, though her smile carried no real warmth. Then she lowered her head again to look over the papers on the table. Yu Yulin offered a compliment: “Miss Lou has quite the touch…” Then he asked, “Why did Miss Lou argue against striking Green Wood Stockade?”

“They’re an enemy of the whole realm — let the whole realm deal with them. We’re not even sure we could beat them, so why rush to make an enemy of them?” the woman answered offhandedly, without a trace of hesitation.

“And yet, after the regicide, Green Wood Stockade’s foundations have already been shaken. As far as I know, they’ve profited handsomely these past few years thanks to their strategic position. If we could seize the chance to take it now, it would benefit our side considerably.”

“And for a little instability in their foundation, you’d forget the strength the Wurui Camp has shown fighting the Jurchens head-on?” Lou Shuwan smiled faintly, then slid a document across the table. “When that Ning Liheng arrived at Green Wood Stockade, the very first thing he did was issue these ‘Ten Directives.’ Have you seen them, Brother Yu?”

“I’ve heard of them. Nothing but useless nonsense, from what I hear.”

“They’re not useless. Each of these ten directives, on the surface, looks like nothing more than commonly accepted custom. The first one sounds rather clumsy — ‘Lüliang belongs to the people of Lüliang; all rules and laws shall be judged by the standard of Lüliang’s interest, and whoever violates that interest shall be shown no mercy.’ The second — ‘No one may violate another’s private property’… Ten articles, and on the surface they look like nothing but the same old truisms, simple rewards and punishments everyone already knows. But once rules are set down in writing, a foundation exists.” Lou Shuwan’s tone carried a note of displeasure, though she spoke evenly, drawing her gaze back after a pause. “I studied these Ten Directives for two months after I got hold of them, then essentially copied them nearly word for word, refined the wording, and passed them along to Tiger King. Before long, he’ll likely issue the order himself. Green Wood Stockade has taken a great deal of pressure because of the regicide, and its foundation truly has been shaken. Our side has no such problem — by simply following through in an orderly way, we come out ahead.”

Yu Yulin frowned. “Even granting that it has some effect, and that Green Wood Stockade has indeed been affected — what does that have to do with us not striking?”

“That’s just my own view on it — when it comes to someone like that, unless you’re certain you can kill him outright, it’s best not to provoke him carelessly.” Lou Shuwan’s mouth curled slightly, and something almost like grief flickered across her expression. “He even killed the emperor himself. Do you really think he wouldn’t come as far as Fenzhou or Weisheng?”

Yu Yulin fell silent for a moment. As a man who commanded troops, he supposedly shouldn’t be so hesitant when it came to matters of battle, but just now, he found himself thinking that such a thing wasn’t impossible at all.

That Ning Liheng seemed calm and level-headed on the surface, and yet when he lost his temper, he’d struck down the emperor right there in open court, defying the entire realm without a shred of restraint — the man was simply a madman!

Outside the window, the flames still raged. Lou Shuwan glanced at them. “It’s a good thing he’s gone off to the northwest now — establishing himself there won’t be easy. Never mind the court’s armies — with the Jurchens marching south again this time, the northwest is left hollow, and the King of Western Xia is very likely to seize the chance to reclaim Hengshan, or even push south into Wu territory. His days ahead will be hard, and he’ll certainly have to use everything he’s got. When it comes to strategy and planning, I’m nowhere near his equal; when it comes to vision and foresight, I’m only a woman, and my limits are considerable too. With him as a teacher, so to speak, I’ll certainly be studying him closely from behind the scenes, learning as I go…”

The flames raged on outside, and amid the calm tone and slight figure up in that room, there lingered the taste of iron and blood. Yu Yulin nodded.

“True enough. Whether he can hold off Western Xia is hard to say too…”

…

That same fire had, years before, once burned in the city of Hangzhou to the south, and now, following memory’s thread, it returned before the eyes of the Qi brothers once more.

At Little Cang River, amid the falling snow, Qi Xinyong, Qi Xinyi, and Qi Xinhan and the others saw a woman approaching alone. She wasn’t especially tall, but her build was well-proportioned, her face somewhat round and quite lovely, though she carried herself with a certain proud bearing. She walked over and set the long case on her back down upright on the ground.

Among the warriors under Ning Yi’s command, there were several core factions. The Qi brothers, who had followed him from the very beginning, led one group. Later, when Zhu Biao joined, he’d brought with him some men of the Shandong greenwood, forming another. And there were others taken in afterward as well. Over this period, the hundred or so men following the Qi brothers mostly knew that their leader had old history with this Overlord Blade from the south, and at times, when tempers flared, small frictions had already surfaced. This time, with the woman arriving alone, quite a few people gradually stepped out along the riverbank.

Wind blew along the river, making her sleeves snap and flutter, her hair stirring in the gusts. Liu Xigua stood there and said clearly, “I’ll be heading south soon. This matter’s been left hanging for half a year — it’s time to settle it. What do you brothers Qi say?”

This was a matter for the higher-ups. After a moment of silence, Qi Xinyong, who had stepped out from the house, said coldly, “A father’s murder — how is that to be settled?”

Not far off, Qi Xinhan, who had been bathing by the river, came forward bare-chested, dragging his spear, steam rising off his body. Qi Xinyi, who had lost an arm, stood on the other side with his spear planted, back ramrod straight. Liu Xigua’s gaze swept over them.

“Two ways to do it. First, the same terms as last time — whatever grudge lies between the Qi family and the Liu family, the three of you against me alone, settled by the rules of the martial world, life or death, no complaints after.”

Among the three Qi brothers, Qi Xinyi had lost an arm fighting the Jurchens, and Qi Xinyong bore wounds of his own as well, but the youngest, Qi Xinhan, had been tempered through hardship and now stood sharp as a freshly honed blade, with real potential to rise further. The three of them listened to what the woman had to say.

“Second, Uncle Qi was my elder, and killing him weighs on my conscience. If you want it settled, I’ll go before his memorial tablet and cut myself three blades, six wounds, and after that the debt between us is cleared. Choose one of the two.”

Xigua’s features were fine and delicate — at first glance, she carried something of the soft, gentle air of a young lady from the south. And yet, having run the Overlord Blade Manor for years, at this moment, with the wind rising around her, it took only a few words for the air about her to shift into something of a grandmaster’s bearing, sharp and commanding.

One of the Qi brothers’ men sneered from among the crowd, “You’ve got history with our lord, and now you talk about three blades and six wounds? Even if you cut yourself up like that, would our boss still be standing here—” Before he could finish, Qi Xinyong turned his head and snapped in a low voice, “Shut up!”

Xigua glanced at the man. “What’s owed here is a father’s blood debt — the world can hardly ever go exactly as one wishes. Brothers Qi, make your choice.”

She reached down and drew a single-edged blade, and the moment she finished speaking, drove it point-first into the ground. In the wind and snow, the woman stood with the great Overlord Blade on one side of her and the sharp single blade on the other, standing tall and unyielding. Across from her, a flicker of resolve crossed Qi Xinhan’s eyes as he gripped his spear and stepped forward…

…

In the city of Bianliang, the vast tragedy had only just begun.

A carriage rolled through the streets. Inside it, Tang Ke listened to the chaos echoing from outside.

Ever since the affair of the Celestial Master Guo Jing, the Jurchens had held the inner city of Bianliang under siege for days now. In order to pay the enormous ransom demanded of them, troops had already begun going house to house through the city, seizing gold and silver.

But that was not the most despairing part of it. Amid the piercing sound of screams and curses, a squad of soldiers stood in a house by the street, dragging out the women of the household one by one according to a list. The master of this household, a minor gentleman of some standing, tried desperately to stop them and was beaten to the ground by the soldiers.

The wails of women and the cries of children mixed together into one sound. Through the gap in the carriage curtain, one could see the gentleman, his head bloodied, still struggling with the soldiers, crying out, “Let go, let go! You animals! Don’t you have wives and daughters of your own — let go! I’m willing to defend this city, I’m willing to fight the Jurchen dogs—ah…”

A grown man’s wailing carries a despair that seems to seep up from the very bone. His wife’s and family’s voices, sharp and hoarse, rang out alongside it. Passersby who witnessed this scene had faces gone pale — but the faces of those doing the seizing were pale too.

Indeed, everyone had wives and daughters — this gentleman did, and so did some of the soldiers and officers. This time, the Jurchens had already set up all manner of siege engines outside the inner city walls, and were demanding gold, silver, women, and craftsmen of every skill. Such terms dictated under a besieging army left no room for argument. The entire national treasury within the city had already been emptied out; every kind of treasure and curio from the imperial palace was being carried out, and after that came a city-wide plundering to make up whatever sum the Jurchens had named. As for the women — the registered courtesans of the capital had already been marched out under guard, followed by the wives and daughters of households that hadn’t taken part in the earlier defense of the city, and after that, the widows of households with no men left at all would almost certainly have no escape either.

Tang Ke already held the position of chancellor, the most senior minister at court, and the reason he’d risen to this position was that he had once been a leading voice of the peace faction. War called for the war faction; negotiating peace, naturally, called for the peace faction — it only made sense. The great officials of the court had expected that, as a man of the peace faction, he would be peerless at negotiation, that he could talk the Jurchens into some better outcome. And yet, what could a man with no leverage whatsoever possibly negotiate?

All along the road, there was wailing and fighting, chaos and grief everywhere; some people had even collapsed in the middle of the street, cursing bitterly or begging for mercy. Tang Ke sat in his carriage without stirring — every one of these orders had been signed by his own hand, including the one now being carried out at Cai Jing’s estate and elsewhere, to drag the women of those households out as well.

He returned home just like this. Once the gate opened, the courtyard too was filled with the sound of women weeping and pleading — among them his most beloved granddaughter, who ran toward him only to be held back by the household servants. Tang Ke’s body and fingers trembled slightly as he turned away down the side corridor.

In that single day alone, hundreds upon hundreds of women were rounded up — some still unmarried, some already wed, some whose husbands or sons had died defending the city, some with infants still crying to be fed back home. Their families cried out and begged outside, searching for whatever connections they could find, but none of it meant anything anymore. By the end of that day, these women were sent out of the city to the Jurchen camp, to be used for the soldiers’ pleasure during the siege.

That same day, the Jingping Emperor, who had taken the throne only half a year earlier, went to the Jurchen camp himself, trying to appease Wanyan Zongwang and calm the invaders’ fury. At the time, hardly anyone yet knew that he would never return.

But compared to what would happen to nearly a hundred thousand people over the next two or three months, compared to what would happen to tens of millions across the entire land of Wu afterward, his own particular fate was, in truth, nothing especially remarkable or worth dwelling on…

…

At that same time, in the northwest, in the city of Qingjian.

In the old Zhong family house, the old man gazed at the flickering lamplight by his bedside, his eyes distant, as though his spirit had already slipped away. He had not spoken in a long while now; only the faint rise and fall of his chest continued on — until, at a certain moment, that too came to a stop.

Weeping rose up.

The old marshal Zhong Shidao, who had guarded one whole frontier and whose name had struck fear along the western border, passed away after months of illness.

The iron hooves of Western Xia came rolling forward. In this bitter winter, everything was being churned into one boiling, surging flood—