Distant mountains, the light of sunset, a narrow path winding through the dusk-lit ridges — a rather run-down inn sat at the edge of a sparsely wooded mountain range.
The man now going by the name Mu Yi stood on the open ground near the inn’s entrance, splitting firewood into a pile as large as a small hill, the finished logs stacked up in another mound just as large. Tall and broad-shouldered, he worked in silence, not a trace of sweat on him. His face had once borne a penal tattoo, since covered over by a knife scar, leaving half his handsome face twisted into something fierce and forbidding — the kind of face that, at first glance, tended to make people uneasy.
This small ridge was called Jiumu Ridge — a small inn and three or four households made up the whole of it. When the Jurchens had swept south, this area had lain within the affected region; the people nearby had scattered or fled. Jiumu Ridge, being remote, had seen its original households stay put, thinking they could slip by unnoticed right under everyone’s nose — but a small Jurchen scouting party had passed through and left no one alive. Afterward, a handful of outside refugees had settled here instead; Mu Yi and his wife Xu Jinhua had arrived earliest of all, and had fixed up the small inn themselves.
In times of war and danger, it was often in the wild, desolate mountains that travelers still moved about — merchants willing to risk the roads, wandering figures of the martial world — stopping here for a bite to eat, leaving behind a few coppers. Mu Yi’s tall frame and the scar across his face, faintly hinting at the tattoo beneath, meant no one looking for a quiet stay ever caused trouble here.
The days passed, one after another. When the Jurchens had marched north, they hadn’t chosen this particular road. Living on this small ridge, one could occasionally catch word of the outside world, and by now, in the heat of summer, it had come to feel almost like a peaceful, ordinary life. He’d finished splitting the wood and was carrying an armful inside when the sound of hoofbeats reached him from down the road.
A group of five came along the mountain path, all dressed as figures of the martial underworld, carrying staffs, blades, and spears, travel-worn from the road. With the sun setting, one of them, still on horseback, called out: “Brother Xu, it’s getting late — there’s an inn up ahead, let’s rest here for the night!”
Others voiced agreement. The five had been riding hard all day and showed signs of fatigue; one of them breathed unevenly, while only the leader maintained a steady, controlled breath — his skill in the martial arts passable, perhaps at the level of a proper practitioner. Mu Yi glanced at them once, and when the five looked his way, he simply lowered his head and carried the firewood inside in silence.
This was so soon after the war that travelers in these wild, desolate mountains feared running into a bandit’s den disguised as an inn, just as innkeepers feared running into bandits themselves. Mu Yi’s build and the scar on his face already made him look far from harmless. The five conferred briefly outside the small inn before finally deciding to go in. Just then Mu Yi came back out to fetch more firewood, and his wife Xu Jinhua came forward with a bright smile. “Ah, five guests — will you be stopping to eat, or staying the night?” Out here in these desolate mountains, one couldn’t survive on innkeeping alone, but guests always meant a welcome bit of extra income.
The group had Mu Yi lead their horses off to be fed, instructed Xu Jinhua to prepare food, wine, and meat, and asked for two rooms. Throughout this, the leader of the group, a man surnamed Xu, kept studying Mu Yi’s build closely. After a moment, he turned to his companions. “Just an ordinary man with some strength to him, no real martial skill.” The other four relaxed at this.
With their worries eased, the group went upstairs to drop off their bags, and by the time they came back down, their voices had already grown louder, bringing a bit of life into the inn’s small space. Mu Yi’s wife Xu Jinhua was, by nature, cheerful and outspoken; as she brought out the wine and meat, she asked a few questions about where they’d come from. These men of the martial world didn’t seem to hide much — they were all from Jingzhou, traveling together this time to take part in some grand undertaking of the martial world. Judging by how they spoke of it, it didn’t sound like anything shameful.
With the nation on the brink of ruin, though most people simply muddled through, there were still those with fiery hearts hoping to do something meaningful, one way or another. Seeing that they were this sort of martial-world figure, Xu Jinhua relaxed somewhat as well. By now it was growing late, stars and moon rising outside, the faint howls of animals occasionally drifting through the mountain forest. The five men chatted as they ate, and then, at some point, the sound of hoofbeats rose again outside the door. The men frowned, hearing the hoofbeats come to a stop right outside the inn.
The newcomer dismounted and pushed open the door. Xu Jinhua, seated behind the counter, turned to look — this time, three men in tight martial garb entered, their clothes somewhat worn, but their bearing unmistakably that of formidable fighters. The one leading them stood tall and straight, bearing some resemblance to Mu Yi himself, with bright eyebrows and sharp, star-like eyes, his gaze keen and grave; a few faint scars marked his face, and across his back he carried a long staff of mixed bronze — clearly a martial artist who had seen real combat.
The three entered, exchanging glances with the group of five surnamed Xu. The leader, carrying the long staff, turned and walked toward Xu Jinhua. “Innkeeper, we’ll eat, and stay the night — two rooms, and please feed our horses too.” He set down a piece of broken silver directly.
Seeing the silver, Xu Jinhua nodded eagerly. “Husband, husband! Come help feed the gentlemen’s horses!”
As she spoke, a low voice answered from within: “All right.” A figure slipped out through the side door. The woman frowned slightly, then hurried to arrange rooms for the three. One of them carried the bags upstairs while the other two sat down at a square table; Xu Jinhua went to the kitchen to bring out some rice wine, and when she went back in to prepare food, she found her husband’s figure already there.
“Husband, three more guests have come. Aren’t you going out to have a look?”
Ordinarily, whenever martial-world figures came through these mountains, Mu Yi would go out and show himself, if only to deter trouble — even if the other party couldn’t gauge his true skill, a man of his size, bearing a tattoo and knife scar, was usually enough to keep anyone from stirring up trouble. But this time, Xu Jinhua found her husband sitting on the bench by the door, shaking his head with a look of weariness. After a moment, he said in a low voice, “You go. It’ll be fine.”
Xu Jinhua blinked in mild surprise, then nodded.
Lin Chong, taken in by Xu Jinhua after being gravely wounded in the affair at Liangshan, had stayed far from the jianghu and its bloodshed for years now — but how could he possibly fail to recognize the man carrying that long bronze staff? It was his old brother-in-arms, “Nine-Tattooed Dragon” Shi Jin.
Xu Jinhua, of course, knew nothing of this. She went on preparing the food and brought it out to the men. The inn had grown quiet by now; the five men led by the one surnamed Xu watched this side of the room, murmuring among themselves. The three newcomers, however, said nothing — once the food arrived, they ate and drank with their heads down. After a while, the middle-aged man surnamed Xu rose and walked over, cupping his hands. “Might I ask — are you, sir, Brother Shi, the Eight-Armed Dragon King of Chifeng Mountain?”
Shi Jin frowned and stood. “That’s indeed me. And you are, brother…?”
“I am Xu Qiang, come from Jingzhou with a few brothers here. I’ve long heard the name of the Eight-Armed Dragon King. While the Jin dogs held sway, Brother Shi fought against them without ceasing; and not long ago, when the Jin dogs withdrew, I heard it was Brother Shi who led men to charge straight into their camp, cutting down dozens with his own hand before fighting his way out drenched in blood, striking fear into the Jurchens’ hearts. Hearing of this, I hoped to make Brother Shi’s acquaintance — never did I imagine we’d meet here, in these wild, desolate mountains.”
Some news in the martial world might never travel beyond its origin; other news, carried by word of mouth through gossips and informants, could spread rapidly even across hundreds or thousands of li. As he spoke of this heroic feat, Shi Jin’s expression showed no particular pleasure. He simply waved a hand. “Please, Brother Xu, sit.”
Xu Qiang sat down readily. “May I ask where you and your two good brothers here are headed?”
“Just returning to the mountains to meet with someone,” Shi Jin said. “What business brings you here, Brother Xu?”
Seeing him get straight to the point, Xu Qiang’s expression froze slightly, but he soon laughed. “My brothers and I intend to head to the northwest, to undertake a great affair.” As he spoke, his hand made a few gestures, flashing them briefly — martial-world hand signs, hinting that this undertaking had been called together by some great figure. Those who understood such signs could grasp the general gist of it.
Shi Jin nodded but said nothing. After waiting a moment, Xu Qiang spoke loudly. “Now that the Jurchens have swept south, our realm thrown into chaos, Bianliang lost, the emperor himself dragged off to the northern lands — a humiliation unseen in a thousand years. But do you gentlemen know the true root cause behind this shameful disgrace?”
“I’m not sure what Brother Xu means…”
“None other than that shocking traitor, the great devil known as the Inner Demon — Ning Yi, Ning Liheng!” Xu Qiang ground out the name through clenched teeth. “This man is not only an enemy of the entire martial world, but once served under the treacherous minister Qin Siyuan. In pursuit of merit, that corrupt minister diverted all the finest weapons and equipment to his son Qin Shaoqian’s command during the Jurchens’ first invasion — at that critical moment for Bianliang, it was the unified will of our million Wu Dynasty citizens within the city that drove the Jurchens back! After that battle, the late emperor saw through his treachery and dismissed the corrupt chancellor’s faction — but by then, unbeknownst to anyone, this traitor already held the only real fighting force left in the court in his own hands. With the Western Army scattered, no one could restrain him any longer, and in the end he committed that most heaven-defying act — murdering the emperor right there in the Golden Hall! Had this not happened, even if the Jurchens had come south a second time, the late emperor, once roused to action and having cleaned up the corruption in his court, could surely have held Bianliang! One could well say — our dynasty’s centuries-long mandate, the hundreds of thousands lost in Bianliang, all of it was destroyed at the hands of this traitor who deserves to be cut into a thousand pieces!”
He delivered this speech with great passion and conviction, and by the end, struck the wooden table twice with his finger for emphasis. The four men at the nearby table nodded eagerly in agreement — if not for this traitor, how could Bianliang possibly have fallen so easily to the Jurchens? Shi Jin nodded, now understanding clearly. “You mean to go kill him.”
“The countless millions of our dynasty’s people all share an irreconcilable blood feud with him! This devil is now hiding in the desolate mountains of the northwest, and with the Western Xia sweeping in from the south, he finds himself caught in a predicament he cannot fully respond to. We intend to go there and seize the opportunity as it presents itself — perhaps killing this devil outright, or perhaps capturing his entire family and marching them to Jiangning to be cut into ten thousand pieces, as a gift of celebration for the new emperor’s ascension!”
Zhang Bangchang, forced by the Jurchens into serving as a puppet emperor, dared not act rashly; now that the Wu Dynasty’s court had relocated to Jiangning, word had already spread that a new emperor was soon to take the throne. Having said this much, Xu Qiang cupped his hands. “Throughout the martial world, it’s said that Brother Shi, the Eight-Armed Dragon King, is a man of formidable skill and fierce hatred for evil. As chance would have it, we’ve met today — for an undertaking of this magnitude, if Brother Shi were to join us, with your skill, the chances of bringing down this devil would surely increase greatly. If you and your two brothers are so inclined, we’d be glad to travel together.”
Xu Qiang studied Shi Jin as he spoke. Shi Jin’s skill was solid, and he counted as something of a name in Jingzhou, though not widely known beyond it. But if he could bring along this Eight-Armed Dragon King, famed for charging the Jin camp, and perhaps even spar together and become sworn friends or brothers in the process, that would naturally boost his own standing considerably. But Shi Jin, looking back at him, studied him for a moment, then shook his head.
“My apologies — I have urgent business of my own to attend to. I cannot join you in this matter of hunting down the Inner Demon. I wish you every success, Brother Xu, in destroying this traitor.” Having said this, he added after a pause, “Only, that Inner Demon is famed for his boundless cunning — you and your brothers had best be careful.”
Xu Qiang was stunned for a moment, then laughed heartily. “Of course, of course — no need to force it. But however cunning that devil may be, he’s no immortal either. We’ve already set our minds beyond life and death in going there. This man defies heaven and earth with his conduct — we act on heaven’s behalf in bringing him down, and have no fear of him!”
At the words “act on heaven’s behalf,” Shi Jin’s brow furrowed slightly. Xu Qiang and the other four went on laughing and speaking with great fervor. Before long, the meal broke up and the group returned to their rooms, still somewhat puzzled by the Eight-Armed Dragon King’s reserved attitude. By the next morning, before dawn, the group set off; Xu Qiang extended one more invitation to Shi Jin, then left behind a meeting point for later. Once both parties had left the small inn, one of Xu Qiang’s companions glanced back and spat.
“Feh — some Eight-Armed Dragon King. Looks to me like nothing but a fame-seeking fraud!”
On the other side, Shi Jin’s horse rounded the mountain bend; he frowned and glanced back. One of the brothers beside him, displeased with the attitude Xu Qiang’s group had shown, said, “Bunch of arrogant fools who don’t know their own limits! Brother Shi, shall I chase them down and teach them a lesson?”
Shi Jin shook his head. “I do have some history with that Inner Demon — but whether he’s good or bad, I honestly can’t say anymore now.” He let out a long breath. “These men aren’t really bad people. I’m just afraid… they won’t be coming back…”
As the horses of both parties rode off in opposite directions, Lin Chong stepped out from the darkness in front of the small inn. He gazed off into the distance, where, in the east, the sky was just beginning to show a faint hint of fish-belly gray. After a moment, he too let out a long sigh.
Beyond distant mountains lay countless more distant mountains still…
As Xu Qiang and his group, along with a growing number of other martial-world figures, quietly made their way toward the northwest, north of Lüliang, the Jin general Cibushi had already completely severed several of the smuggling trade routes leading into Lüliang — the current Jin emperor Wuqimai had always been deeply wary of this kind of unauthorized collusion between Jurchens and Han Chinese, and now, at the height of his power, cutting off this already difficult route through short-term, high-pressure enforcement posed little challenge at all.
To the southwest, the Western Xia general Jilasaile likewise imposed harsh measures on the refugees and merchants moving through the mountainous region — anyone caught was beheaded and put on public display without exception. By now it was already the sixth month; Li Qianshun had taken Yuanzhou and was simultaneously clearing out Huanzhou, preparing to seal off the roots of Zhong Lie’s remaining Western Army forces and cut off every avenue of retreat. Within Western Xia itself, still more troops were being funneled toward this front; across the entire northwest region, accounting for losses in battle, the Western Xia army had already swelled to some hundred and thirty thousand men. Adding in the Han Chinese forces recently absorbed after stabilizing the region, the total scale of the army was already climbing past two hundred thousand.
This was a number that even the Jurchens, should they choose to come, would find difficult to easily overturn.
At Small Azure River, Green Wood Stockade, and similar places, grain reserves had nearly run dry. Though the wheat along the riverbanks was gradually ripening, everyone knew this alone wouldn’t amount to much. Green Wood Stockade grew wheat too, but likewise fell far short of what was needed to feed its people. With everyone’s food rations steadily cut and the trade routes now severed, both sides found themselves under enormous pressure.
That morning, in the courtyard halfway up the mountainside, Ning Yi brought thin porridge and flatbread into the room, eating breakfast with some pickled vegetables alongside Su Tan’er, who lay in bed. Su Tan’er had fallen ill; over these past six months, she — responsible for managing all the valley’s supplies — had lost twenty jin in weight, and especially as the grain stores had dwindled, she’d found it hard to eat much at all; every day, if Ning Yi didn’t come sit with her, she could barely bring herself to swallow any food.
Ning Yi couldn’t say much about Su Tan’er’s difficulty eating. The two of them carried a great many burdens together, pressures beyond what an ordinary person could understand. If it had only been psychological strain, she wouldn’t have fallen ill outright — it was also that her monthly cycle had come these past few days, weakening her resistance, which had brought on some fever and illness. Over breakfast, Ning Yi suggested handing her responsibilities over to him — after all, the valley’s supplies were already meager and their allocation long since settled — but Su Tan’er shook her head and refused.
She smiled and said, “It reminds me of back in Jiangning, when the family was fighting to keep the imperial merchant contract.”
Back then, she’d carried the burden of the entire Su family’s affairs, exhausting herself to the point of collapse, and Ning Yi had taken up everything for her. This time, though she’d fallen ill again, she still refused to set down what was in her hands.
Outside the window, in the distance, Small Azure River wound its way past; along the riverbank, great waves of wheat were gradually turning golden.
It was the sixth month of the lunar calendar — the wheat would soon be ready for harvest.
An atmosphere of oppressive tension, together with the unbearable summer heat, hung over the entire northwest.
“It’s almost time, isn’t it.” She took a small sip of porridge, gazing out the window. Ning Yi glanced out too.
“…Yes, about time.”
The couple chatted idly for a while, and before long, Ning Xi came bounding in, dragging a small basket, eager to show them the wild greens he’d gathered that morning, while also asking permission to go out again in the afternoon with the little girl named Min Chuyi to find more food to help out at home. Ning Yi smiled and agreed.