In the summer of the eighth year of Wujian Shuo, two years after the Black Banner Army’s defeat and retreat from the northwest, the many lingering problems that had existed because of the Black Banner Army had finally reached a point where they could no longer be left unclear—they had to be resolved.

Among these, the matter of the many spies who had infiltrated the various factions of Great Qi during the three years of war and military expansion was naturally the most pressing. But running alongside this, another serious matter—one that could grow large or stay small depending on how it was handled—was this: whether the news of Black Banner’s Ning Yi’s death was actually true.

During the three years of war, at the height of its power the Jin state had lost two great generals in the northwest, while the Central Plains’ Great Qi had raised an army a million strong. In the end, Ning Yi had been killed, and the Black Banners had finally collapsed and retreated from the northwest. When the matter was settled, everyone was simply immersed in the relief that three years of torment had finally passed; few dared to voice dissent or speak of future troubles. After all, Ning Yi was dead and the Black Banners destroyed—that was the best possible outcome.

After that, more news about the Black Banner Army gradually surfaced. The remnants who had retreated from the northwest had not been wiped out. They had chosen the border region where Tibet, Dali, and the Martial Dynasty met as a temporary base, resting and recovering their strength, and their influence had since quietly spread into areas like Yunnan, Guizhou, Sichuan, and southern Hunan, slowly gaining a foothold.

As for this force, the Martial Dynasty, having suffered greatly, dared not provoke them lightly, and in truth neither Tibet nor Dali had many factions capable of standing up to them directly. After the great war in the northwest, the Black Banner Army had also become more inclined to withdraw inward and lick its wounds, presenting to the outside world only a few merchant caravans moving about in the far south. What was truly happening within the organization was, for a time, difficult for anyone to say clearly.

In the earliest days, few people doubted the news of Ning Yi’s death, mainly because everyone was inclined to accept it—especially since the head had been verified and sent north. Yet since the Black Banner Army still existed, people grew curious about how it continued to operate in secret, and more and more rumors began to circulate that Ning Yi had not actually died.

The Black Banner Army of today, though hard to penetrate, was after all not entirely a solid, impenetrable whole—it was still made up of people. As more people began probing, certain surface-level information gradually became clearer. First, the current development and consolidation of the Black Banner Army, though low-profile, still appeared quite organized and had not fallen into chaos following the loss of its leadership. Second, after the absences of Ning Yi, Qin Shaoqian, and others, several of the Ning family’s widows had stepped forward to shoulder the burden—it was they who released word to the outside world that Ning Yi was not dead, only that with enemies watching closely, he had to remain hidden for the time being. This was not entirely a lie: if it were truly confirmed that Ning Yi still lived, the Jin state, humiliated as it had been, might well march its armies south immediately.

In the end, whether Ning Yi was alive or dead had become something of a ghost story across the Central Plains—no one had seen him, no one was certain. The main reason was that even though Ning Yi had disappeared from the public eye, the Black Banner Army’s power seemed to continue functioning normally. Even if he were dead, no one could afford to let their guard down; but if he were alive, then the whole matter was enough to make every faction across the Central Plains tremble with fear.

In the course of debating whether Ning Yi was alive or dead, the sudden appearance of the name Li Shishi could only be called an accident. This former famous courtesan of the capital had not, in fact, been particularly well known throughout the realm—especially during the years of chaos and war, when she had long since faded from public view. But when people began searching for the truth of Ning Yi’s fate, a former chief constable of the Six Doors Bureau, one of the notable masters among the martial world’s wandering swordsmen, Tie Tianying, tracked this woman’s whereabouts and told others that the truth of whether Ning Yi lived or died might well be found through her.

His reasoning was this: although Ning Yi was ruthless and merciless, he had always been quite attentive to his family and those close to him. And this Miss Li happened to be a former intimate acquaintance of his, a woman he had once cared for deeply. After news of Ning Yi’s death spread, this woman—who had gone into reclusive religious practice in Yunnan without shaving her head—had traveled north. If she were to encounter danger, then clearly, Ning Yi would not simply stand by and do nothing.

It was hard to say under what circumstances Tie Tianying had let slip such speculation, but regardless, in the end, someone took it to heart. Last year, Li Shishi visited the Black Banner Army’s base in Tibet before leaving, and around her, the first assassination attempt began—followed by a second, a third. By around June, the number of martial-world wanderers who had died because of her had likely already passed one hundred. But whether the side protecting her was acting under Ning Yi’s direct orders, or whether it was Ning Yi’s family staging a deliberate diversion, no one could say for certain.

This was the conflict surrounding the edges of Ning Yi’s death, yet it caused a woman who had long since faded from view to fall once more into the public eye of the realm. In June, Puyang flooded, and the floodwaters spread to Daming, Jizhou, Enzhou, Shenzhou, and other areas. By this time, the court had already lost the ability to provide disaster relief, and the refugees were left homeless and suffering unspeakably. This nun who practiced religion without shaving her head traveled everywhere pleading for aid, and numerous wealthy households joined together to provide disaster relief. Suddenly her reputation spread far and wide, as if she were a living Guanyin, a living Buddha to ten thousand households.

From then on, surrounding the name Li Shishi there were not only the Black Banner forces protecting her, but also quite a few self-organized wanderers of the martial world. Of course, to avoid implicating too many people, this young woman also seemed to have since found ways to conceal her movements, occasionally appearing in one place before vanishing again.

And so it was that, by now, her appearance in Zezhou was what truly made things difficult for Lu Anmin. First, this woman could not be allowed in—who knew whether she belonged to that Demon Ning or not. Second, this woman could not be allowed to die—even if Ning Yi really were dead, the Black Banner Army’s retaliation would not be something he could bear. Third, her request could not simply be refused outright—this was because, being only human and not wood or stone, who could be without feeling? Toward Li Shishi, he genuinely held goodwill, and even felt admiration for what she had done.

It was only that he was truly powerless to help.

“The matter of Zezhou, as I’ve said, is not so simple.” Lu Anmin considered his words carefully. “Miss Li, to be born into an age of chaos is the misfortune of all people. Ha. As for me now, though I am said to govern this region, in times like these, it is always the ones holding the blade who have the final say. In this matter of Zezhou, the one who truly holds power, as Miss Li must understand, is General Sun Qi. Closing the city gates is no small matter—even if my heart aches with pity, what can I do about it. Rather than urging me, you would do better to go persuade those who have come… It would be useless. Seventy thousand troops, and beyond that…”

He paused here, looked at Li Shishi, and seemed about to say something more but held back. “Miss Li, there are inner matters I cannot speak of too freely. But… since you have come here, stay here. I will do what I can to protect you fully. To speak honestly, if your whereabouts were to be exposed, it would truly be difficult to remain safe…”

Before he could finish speaking, Shishi looked at him, pushed back her chair, and stood. Then she bowed deeply before him. Lu Anmin hurriedly pushed back his own chair and rose as well, frowning. “Miss Li, this will not do.”

“I know this will not do either.” Shishi’s voice was very low. “In the Fan Tower, in all things there was a sense of proportion. Even when asking something of someone, one should not press too hard—that is so that both sides may feel comfortable, and even if the request fails, one still leaves a good impression in the other’s heart. But I truly am a powerless, weak woman. My heart aches with pity, yet I have not the strength to bind even a chicken. Even if I wished to take up a blade and fight, I doubt I could match even half a man. But you, sir, hold the rank of Prefect. Even if there are things you cannot change, so long as you hold a heart of compassion, a single moment’s decision could still save dozens, even hundreds of lives…”

She paused. “Today, Shishi does not wish to force you into a position, sir. But you too are a person of good heart…”

“That’s not necessarily true!” Lu Anmin waved his hand.

“…I only hope, sir, that you will hold onto a benevolent heart. On behalf of those who might be saved, Shishi thanks you in advance. In the days to come, I will remember this, and pray for your blessing every day…”

“Ah… you… ah, you…” Lu Anmin watched in some confusion as she knelt on the ground and kowtowed three times to him, at a loss whether to help her up or accept the gesture. After this bow, she rose on her own initiative. Her lively eyes remained unchanged, but her forehead had turned slightly red, her expression carrying a hint of embarrassment—clearly, such a bow did not come naturally to her either.

“In truth, I have nothing to offer. Where others might contribute their strength, I, being a woman, can only beg and bow. It was so in times of war, and so it is now in times of disaster relief. I know this is not right, but sometimes, after begging and pleading, it does prove useful after all… I would like to think that it is not entirely useless. Thinking back on it, in this life of mine, my heart has never known peace, my wishes never fulfilled. I sought to leave the world behind, yet could not truly do so. In the end, I have only used beauty to please others and used feeling to burden others. I truly am… sorry. I know you too are in a difficult position, sir.”

“Miss Shishi… how could you demean yourself so… ah, this world…”

“Shishi will take her leave now.”

“You need not leave at all…” Lu Anmin said. “I mean nothing else by it, but this city of Zezhou… is truly not at peace right now.”

“Shishi has her own means of protecting herself.”

“I don’t mean the ordinary kind of unrest…”

After exchanging a few more words like this, she nonetheless left the room. Lu Anmin, fearing implication as well, saw her off at the back door, watching her figure gradually disappear into the night. Some words, in the end, were never spoken. Though she wore a nun’s robes, she still called herself Shishi; though she had come with sincere pleas, she also spoke words of apology—the contradiction and the intent behind it, he understood clearly enough in the end.

Only, in all this, how much could he himself actually do…

The nun named Li Shishi left the prefect’s residence and gradually disappeared into the streets of Zezhou. Prefect Lu also returned to his own residence. In the distance, near Liang’an Inn, a wedding banquet was still underway, and further off, the clamor of constables chasing down bandits could be heard from the streets. On the northeast side of the city, a military camp housing tens of thousands of troops now blazed with lights. From the post road to the southeast, several thousand refugees were also making their way toward Zezhou in a great mass—the scattered remnants of the hundreds of thousands of starving refugees, now without weapons or supplies, no different from beggars. On the advice of some among them, they had followed the army all the way to Zezhou, demanding that this Tiger King’s court release Wang Shitong.

These people had nothing to their names and were starving. Most of them had received kindness from Wang Shitong on their journey south. Coming here now, besides demanding that the Tiger King show mercy, they also demanded that Zezhou take them in—otherwise, most of them would not survive the coming autumn. If Zezhou refused to help them and they rose up in unrest only to be slaughtered by Zezhou’s soldiers, that might not even be the worst outcome.

On a small hill more than ten li from Zezhou city stood a small temple. A group originally under the Demon King’s command had already arrived there first. At this moment, torches were lit in the woods, and a hundred or so men kept watch in the forest near the temple.

The Demon King had marched south, gathering three or four hundred thousand refugees, breaking through several cities along the way. Among his forces were troops genuinely capable of fighting. This band of over a hundred men were the direct followers of Wang Shitong—after the defeat on the north bank of the Yellow River, these were the ones who had been gathered together and kept alive, among them several wounded, who, unwilling to accept defeat, had pushed north.

Inside the temple, six men were discussing their plans. They were Li Guifang, Yu Jing, Tang Side, Qian Qiu, Gu Dahao, and Feng Yangbo. Wang Shitong’s group had been rumored to be Black Banner remnants; among them, Li Guifang and Tang Side had genuinely served in the Black Banner Army. Li Guifang was thin and gaunt, one of his hands severed—cut off in battle against the Jurchen at Xiaocang River. He was calm by nature and had some strategic sense, serving as something like a military advisor among the starving refugees’ ranks. Tang Side was tall and skilled in martial arts, with a knife scar across his face and part of one ear missing—he was the bold warrior of the starving army.

Of course, to call it an “army” now, in truth there was only this handful of people left.

“…If I’m not mistaken, going over there this time is nothing but a death trap. Sun Qi has set a net over heaven and earth—stirring up any waves will not be easy.”

“…How this will turn out depends first on whether they let us into the city tomorrow…”

“…What good does it do to be caught in one net anyway? Do we even have any road left to walk? Look at the people behind us—they’ll be starved to death alive this year…”

“…Once we’re in the city, set it on fire!”

“…How many people would that kill.”

“…You think Sun Qi isn’t guarding against that? Sun Qi doesn’t care…”

“…We can’t drag the Huaxia Army’s name through the mud…”

“…The Huaxia Army—that’s you people. If it still truly exists, why hasn’t that Mister Ning come out to save us…”

“…Can’t you save yourself!?”

“…How am I supposed to save myself—my death means nothing—”

The discussion in the temple went on in fits and starts, sometimes low, sometimes heated. Eventually Qian Qiu, Tang Side, and Gu Dahao began arguing outright. Everyone knew they had reached a dead end, that arguing was useless, yet they could not help but argue. Li Guifang stood off in a corner, his expression shifting unpredictably. “Enough. Is this really the time to be arguing?”

“I didn’t want to argue!” Tang Side said. “But how can they insult the Huaxia Army like that!”

“There’s barely a hundred of us left.” Yu Jing, standing nearby, said. “Keep arguing and we might as well disband—whoever wants to leave, let them leave!”

This was perhaps a thought that had crossed everyone’s mind at some point, and now that it had been said aloud, no one spoke further. The room fell silent for a moment. Qian Qiu, still nursing his wounds, sighed. “I’m not leaving.”

“Leave and go where, when so many will die…” Gu Dahao gritted his teeth. “Worst case, we die in Zezhou city…”

“No one wants to leave…”

“…I’m not leaving.”

“…It’s not that I don’t think the Black Banner Army still exists—if only, this time, they’d really be willing to act, how good that would be.” After a moment, Yu Jing sighed. When he finished speaking, Li Guifang shook his head and was about to say something. Just then, laughter suddenly rang out.

“Hahahaha—Ning Liheng, with his false benevolence and false righteousness, how could he ever save you people—”

The laughter was deafening, echoing suddenly through the night. The six men in the temple were startled into alarm. In that instant, Tang Side drew his blade, and Yu Jing grabbed a fire lance beside him. At the same moment, a massive figure crashed down from above, breaking through the roof tiles as it fell.

The pressure of the wind and the falling debris smothered the fire’s light inside the temple; in an instant, a great darkness pressed outward in all directions, and a voice like thunder rang out: “Let this one come and save you all—” Yu Jing had only just turned around when the sound of the blow cutting through the air arrived.

It was a fist as heavy as a collapsing riverbank, and the fire lance shattered in the middle. His body was swept aside by the force of the punch, his chest already caving in, and he was sent flying backward like a cannonball, sweeping past Tang Side and Qian Qiu, crashing through the temple wall and flying out beyond it.

The people out in the woods had already reacted. As they looked toward the temple, they saw its roof suddenly collapse, and in the next instant, the earthen wall at its side crashed down as well. The body that fell out along with the rubble was already unrecognizable as human. In the dim, dust-filled air, the others saw Gu Dahao—who had been quite formidable in martial skill—struck in the head by a single punch from the attacking figure, his neck twisted grotesquely backward.

Outside in the woods, signal rockets rose into the sky.

“Meet the enemy—” someone shouted—

In the temple, amid flying debris, Tang Side swung his steel blade and charged forward bodily. The figure swept out a horizontal punch, knocking his blade flying, blood bursting from his grip. Before he could even stop his momentum, fists came at him from both sides, striking his head simultaneously with a heavy thud. Tang Side collapsed to his knees—already dead.

“The Great Bright Teaching acts on Heaven’s behalf—” a voice shouted through the night.

The sudden figure, like a demon god, having struck down Tang Side, then reached out with a claw-like hand and seized Qian Qiu by the throat, crushing his windpipe as easily as crushing a chick. Chaos descended upon this place in an instant, and it was in this same instant that Li Guifang, standing in the corner, suddenly understood the identity of the intruder.

He had been through battlefields, yet had never imagined he would face someone like the man before him now.

The Grand Luminous Sect’s leader, Lin Zongwu.

Undefeated across the realm, now universally acknowledged as the number one martial artist under heaven!

More than a decade ago, when the Sage-Duke Fang La still lived; a few years ago, when Iron-Armed Zhou Tong still lived; even two years ago, when Mister Ning had subdued the realm in the name of the Heart Demon—at any of those times, the people of the Black Banner Army would never have taken this man seriously. But now, things were undeniably different.

The demon god’s figure advanced, a single punch killing Feng Yangbo, and he strode forward with heroic bearing. Li Guifang, with his one remaining hand, grabbed the bundle of gunpowder he carried with him and lit the fuse from the brazier beside him. He held the gunpowder bundle close to his chest and walked toward Lin Zongwu without pause.

The light and shadow flickered, and upon that powerful, dignified, awe-inspiring face there suddenly appeared a flash of anger and awkwardness—for when he reached out to the side for something to throw, there was nothing at hand to use. And so he took a step back.

Li Guifang began to laugh—this laughter was the last trace he would leave in this world—for in the next instant, he was sent flying by a stone that Lin Zongwu hurled at him with all his strength, exploding into a burst of light and fire against the side of the temple…