Fighting and killing, clubs and blades—the malice coming at him from every side, like ten thousand stray arrows flying past… he felt almost nothing.

Over these past years, this was what he had experienced the most.

The “Eight-Armed Dragon King,” Shi Jin, was from Huayin County in Huazhou, the eldest son of Patriarch Shi of Shi Family Manor. His family was well-off; as a youth he had been a spoiled, reckless young man. His mother, a simple, honest woman, could not restrain him and died of anger over it. Patriarch Shi, at a loss, had no choice but to let him study martial arts. Later, Wang Jin, drill instructor of the Eight Hundred Thousand Imperial Guards, having gotten into trouble with the law, took shelter at Shi Family Manor and, seeing the boy’s talent, took him on as a disciple.

In those days he had been young and reckless, full of youthful spirit. When Zhu Wu and other leaders from Shaohua Mountain came to Huayin to plunder grain, Shi Jin defeated them, and they, admiring his martial skill, deliberately sought his friendship. The young knight-errant, intoxicated by the world of the wandering underworld, most craved that bold brotherhood and camaraderie, and soon became friends with them.

Not long after, Shi Jin’s association with the mountain bandits was reported, and the authorities sent troops to suppress them. Shi Jin, together with Zhu Wu and the others, defeated the government troops, but this left him with nowhere to belong. Zhu Wu and the others tried to persuade him to join them on the mountain, but Shi Jin was unwilling and instead went to Weizhou to seek out his master. During this time he met Lu Zhishen, and the two hit it off immediately. But later, when Lu Zhishen killed Zheng Tu the Butcher, Shi Jin was implicated as well and became a wanted man, forcing him to flee once more.

From Weizhou he turned to Yanzhou, still failing to find his master, and eventually made his way to Beijing. There, his travel funds ran out and he was robbed; Shi Jin ended up killing several local bullies. After much hardship, exhausted in body and spirit, he finally returned to Shaohua Mountain and became an outlaw.

After that, he joined Liangshan, and then came Liangshan’s downfall… Looking back, he had done many wrong things, only he hadn’t understood at the time that they were wrong.

At Liangshan, his forthright, chivalrous nature made him close with many people, but the one he was closest to was Lu Zhishen, and the one he admired most was Lin Chong, who despite his hardships remained free and unstained. After learning what had happened to Lin Chong, he had wished he could rush to the Eastern Capital immediately and cut down the entire household of Young Master Gao with his own hands. For this same reason, when Liangshan later collapsed and he learned that Lin Chong had been destroyed by petty schemers, he was the most outraged of all—yet strangely, he did not hold onto resentment over the death of Lu Zhishen, who had been his closest friend.

Surviving in the underworld meant you kill me, I kill you—if you go and kill someone in their home, it’s only natural if they come and kill you back. For this reason, he actually held little hatred for the Heart Demon himself; on the contrary, he later came to feel respect in his heart for the Black Banner’s resistance against the Jurchens.

But back then he hadn’t yet fully understood things. The old Liangshan had left him uneasy—a discomfort even greater than what he’d felt at Shaohua Mountain—so its fall was, in a way, for the best. He simply drifted along, searching for news of Lin Chong along the way to put his own heart at ease, until… he met that old man.

They had talked about Lin Chong, and a few other things—simple conversation, really.

“So the seventy-some of us will need to hide in the city for at least two more days?”

“It won’t be easy, but there’s no other way.”

…

“You’re Wang Jin’s disciple—perform the Demon-Subduing Staff form with me.”

The old man, standing before him, had performed a set of Demon-Subduing Staff techniques. The staff form was simple—even simpler than what his master Wang Jin had once taught him—with no elaborate instruction, just the old man wholeheartedly executing the movements.

It wasn’t until he had crawled out of that mountain of corpses and sea of blood, until he had survived, that the old man’s simple, unhesitating figure, and that equally simple staff form, truly began to ferment in his heart. Where the Way lies, though ten thousand men stand against it, I shall go forth—for the old man, such conduct probably held nothing remarkable at all. But it was only then that Shi Jin truly felt the power passed down within that staff form.

But the old man was already dead…

Over the ten years that followed, the young man of those days transformed into a warrior, charging into battle, seeking that same unhesitating strength, no longer fearing life or death. The brothers he led had once been overrun and defeated by the massed armies of the Jurchens, hunted down by every faction across Great Qi. He had endured wounds and hunger, trapped in a besieged valley amid heavy snow with his men, starving for three days and three nights—those were the days he felt most heroic and exalted. He earned the reverence of those around him and became a true “Dragon King.”

But gradually, the people around him began to change. As their strength grew and life around him grew more comfortable, those brothers began to feel like strangers to him. Some profited from military supplies, some fought privately with civilians, some favored their own cronies and oppressed the innocent—among more than a hundred thousand righteous soldiers, it began, strangely, to feel like Liangshan all over again.

He had tried hard to set things right, even forcing himself to act ruthlessly, executing old brothers who had once shared life and death with him. As Dragon King, he could not afford to be lost, could not afford to fall. And yet, amid the internal strife and external threats that led to Chifeng Mountain’s great upheaval, he had still felt waves of helplessness.

If Grandmaster Zhou were here, what would he do?

Of course, he would not retreat just because of a little setback.

But which way forward?

Unable to advance to the battlefield, he could at least temporarily return to the martial world. After the upheaval at Chifeng Mountain, and just as the starving refugees began their difficult march south, Shi Jin and the old followers still by his side decided to lend a hand, making their way to Zezhou—and there, by chance, discovered the Grand Luminous Sect’s scheme. Worried for the innocent people of the martial world, he tried to expose it and wake them up to the truth. Unfortunately, when it came down to it, they were ultimately outmaneuvered by Lin Zongwu.

The silent, resolute Dragon King was not shaken by this setback—he had, after all, already lived through far more desperate battles. It was just that back then, even in despair, there had been something that stirred the blood and lifted the spirit; now, all he felt was a sky full of wind and snow.

Then he would simply push forward against the wind and snow—

The dragon possesses an unyielding will. As those thousand shadows of his staff transformed into ten thousand roaring dragons, crashing again and again against that overwhelming tidal wave, it was like the trajectory of his ten years of struggle alongside his companions—pressing forward against the current, colliding, only to be swallowed and cut off at certain moments. This was the trajectory of countless people in this chaotic age, and it was for this reason that, when that voice rang out, Shi Jin caught a vague glimpse of himself in it—

“Shi Jin—hahaha, I admit it—you are a true grandmaster of the martial path, the finest opponent I have encountered in nearly a decade!”

A tremendous force came surging in. Lin Zongwu closed the distance into range of the bronze staff, his heavy fist crashing down like a collapsing mountain. Shi Jin abruptly drew back his staff, meeting the fist’s edge with his elbow; the massive impact froze his body for an instant. The two men’s legs clashed like thunderclaps; Lin Zongwu’s punch, its momentum unspent, swung violently down again. Shi Jin blocked, parried, tore, and deflected, then lunged forward with a fierce headbutt. Lin Zongwu drew in his chest and abdomen, slammed forward with a knee strike, his footwork surging and lunging! Shi Jin drew back, retreated. Onlookers saw only the two figures surging forward and pulling back, the distance closing, then briefly opening again in an instant—the Dragon King swung up his eight-sided bronze staff and brought it crashing down, while Lin Zongwu lunged forward with a punch!

Blood sprayed. The Buddha King’s massive frame sank toward the ground, the stone slabs around him cracking apart—the staff had struck squarely across his back. Shi Jin, meanwhile, was sent flying by the ferocious punch, smashing through a stone bench like a cannonball, his body finally coming to rest amid the scattered rubble.

Lin Zongwu slowly, slowly rose to his feet. His back had split open, his monk’s robe torn in two. At this moment, this heavyset man of unfathomable martial skill reached back, tore off what remained of his robe, and casually tossed it up into the sky beside him, his gaze solemn and dignified.

A hero does not fade with the passing of the underworld’s years. Over the many years past, he had known both glory and shame. Over a decade ago, he had considered challenging Zhou Tong, though it never came to pass—and in truth, even if that duel had happened, he wasn’t certain he would have won. For ten years since, people had called him the greatest martial artist under heaven, yet certain shadows and regrets had always lingered in his heart. Not until this very moment did he finally know: he truly was now the greatest under heaven.

At this moment, whether the enemy before him was the Sage-Duke of old, or Liu Dabiao, or Zhou Tong, or even that woman named Lu Hongti, he now possessed unshakeable confidence that he could face any of them.

He turned his gaze to the sky, feeling this entirely different state of mind—this was truly his day. And in that same instant, Shi Jin lay on the ground, feeling blood well up in his mouth, his bones shattered, the light of the sky growing faint and distant. Whatever ending awaited him, always lying in wait—if it were to come now, for some reason, he still felt a trace of regret.

What had been in Grandmaster Zhou’s heart in that final moment when he thrust out his spear?

Strength seemed to well up from deep within, urging him to rise, but his body’s response was agonizingly slow, and in that instant, even his thoughts seemed to stretch out endlessly. Lin Zongwu turned toward him, as if about to speak. Somewhere behind him, someone tossed two copper coins into the air.

“…A reward.”

Perhaps out of some keen sensitivity to his surroundings and to hidden weapons, in that instant, the corner of Lin Zongwu’s eye flicked toward the sound.

Ning Yi turned away.

Some complex piece of information slipped into Lin Zongwu’s mind, stirring up ripples in his subconscious first—a great undercurrent still gathering, expanding at the deepest level of thought, at a speed beyond human perception.

On the surface of his consciousness, the feeling of imminent, universal acclaim was still rising, about to settle into place—when that surging undercurrent rushed up to meet it.

Sunlight slanted down from the sky, bright and dazzling. Lin Zongwu stood there, gazing toward the second-floor corridor of the monks’ quarters not far off, frozen for an instant. A man in blue robes was vanishing into the crowd.

“It seems the Evil Monk Lin has seen us.”

In that instant, Lin Zongwu felt a complex tangle of emotions welling up in his heart, trying to pin them down to something concrete. Was it an illusion, or was it real?… It shouldn’t be… If it really were true, what would happen?… He wanted to immediately order the monks to seal off that area, but reason pressed the impulse down for a moment.

Ning Yi stepped out from the crowd, his final words slow and even.

“If he comes over, kill him.”

“Yes.”

The underworld men up above turned their gazes toward Lin Zongwu—some with blades on their backs, some with spears, some carrying long objects wrapped in unmarked oilcloth… Their expressions and heights varied, but in that instant, just after Lin Zongwu had all but secured his place as the greatest under heaven, their eyes turned toward him silently and with total focus. Someone reached back and gripped a spear, silently planting its butt on the ground, the spear tip sliding free of its sheath. Someone tilted his head and gave Lin Zongwu a grin, his teeth pale and grim. Lin Zongwu looked back at them.

No one noticed this silent exchange of gazes. All around the training ground, the cheers of the Grand Luminous Sect’s followers rose to the sky, and off to one side, people rushed toward Shi Jin, still lying on the ground. At the same moment, a massive explosion was heard coming from one side of the city.

“What’s going on…”

The sound of the explosion drew everyone’s attention; unease was already brewing, and after a moment, someone said, “Black Banner…” The name spread through the crowd like a curse passed from mouth to ear, and terror surged up in its wake.

Almost no one still cared about the duel that had just taken place—even Lin Zongwu himself, for the moment, no longer wished to linger in the emotions of the moment before. He gestured to the sect’s protectors and others, then addressed the crowd around the training ground: “Everyone, there’s no need to panic. Whatever this is about, we are already investigating. If real chaos has broken out, it will actually work in our favor for what we plan to do today—rescuing the righteous hero Wang…”

He did his best to reassure everyone, even arranging for people to tend to Shi Jin. But when he looked back up toward the second floor, those who had been there moments before had vanished completely. He found Tan Zheng nearby. “Have the sect brothers get ready. It must be the Black Banner.” His gaze turned fierce, and after a pause: “…Ning Yi is here.”

Ning Yi is here…

Hearing Lin Zongwu say this name, Tan Zheng’s heart suddenly jolted. He steadied himself. “Understood.” He knew that if what the sect leader said was true, what came next might well be the most difficult situation he would ever have to face in his life.

Even though they had already made preparations, they would need to be at their absolute sharpest.

That was how he felt in the first hour.

An hour later, he realized he had thought far too little of what was coming…

The true flood, overwhelming and unstoppable, was already crashing down upon everyone!

…

Inside and outside the city, countless pieces of information were flying back and forth.

In the open fields south of Zezhou, tens of thousands of refugees watched in confusion as unusual activity stirred in the army camp ahead: soldiers were gathering, and someone was shouting loudly: “…Linchuan, Gaoping… Yangcheng, Qinshui, and Huguan have all rebelled! Generals An and Chen have raised troops! We support the Lady Prime Minister—all these years, it’s been that living bodhisattva who has kept us fed and at peace… Tian Hu is nothing but a hunter, destroying his own walls with his own hands… This is a joint letter from thirteen generals of the court—at this very moment, Weisheng has already fallen… Tian Hu has been captured…”

Not long after, fighting broke out within the army camp itself, and in the distance, over the city, columns of smoke could be seen faintly rising into the sky.

In the main army camp on the other side of the city, Sun Qi, the moment he heard the explosion, had already donned his armor and drawn his sword. He strode out of his tent and saw his deputy general Zou Xin hurrying toward him. “What’s going on?!”

“The Black Banner is here—someone has rebelled—”

“Hmph, I expected as much. Bring me my horse!”

Chaos was already spreading through the camp. More and more people rushed in to report, and soldiers were hurrying forward leading warhorses. Sun Qi, striding forward, suddenly drew his sword and swung it back, the blade clanging against a dagger held by the approaching deputy general.

“I asked you what happened, and all you said was ‘someone rebelled,’ without saying who—that alone tells me you’re up to something! Seize him!”

Zou Xin turned to flee, but a tall, burly man beside him swung a punch that grazed past Zou Xin’s eye. He staggered backward, blood trickling from the corner of his eye.

Skills honed in real battle on the battlefield had very nearly gotten him killed in that single casual punch.

The soldier spread his hands. “Wang Nantuo of the Grand Luminous Sect stands here. Who are you, Black Banner?”

“Mad Tiger” Wang Nantuo—this was the greatest safeguard Lin Zongwu had arranged in this place.

Zou Xin drew his long sword, crossing it against the dagger. “Come, then!”

But Wang Nantuo did not engage him. He turned and walked after Sun Qi instead, while several other bodyguards closed in around this side.

Sun Qi stepped up onto the shoulder of the soldier holding his horse, and just as he mounted, he finally sensed something was wrong.

Wang Nantuo had also already reacted.

He let out a sudden roar, his large hand seizing downward in a grappling strike. Over the years, few had ever been able to withstand his fists and palms—within one step of him, no one could touch Sun Qi—

…

“Rebellion—!”

A shrill cry rang out through Zezhou. The over ten thousand troops originally stationed to guard Zezhou, led by their commander Qi Hongxiu, charged toward key points throughout the city, and the killing began.

Near the prefectural offices, Lu Anmin, hearing this sudden and rapidly swelling chaos, still hesitated. Suddenly, someone grabbed hold of him.

“Prefect Lu!” The man was a minor clerk from the prefectural office. Lu Anmin recognized his face but couldn’t recall his name.

“You…”

“There’s rebellion in the city—disaster is imminent. The people need Prefect Lu to come and calm them—there’s no time to hesitate!”

“I… how am I supposed to calm them…”

“The men are ready. Several respected elders in the city are being called together now. Prefect Lu, come with me…”

The clerk pulled Lu Anmin forward a step, but Lu Anmin suddenly seemed to realize something and froze in place.

“You… Black Banner…”

“Black Banner…” The clerk’s eyes flashed with alarm, then he shook his head vigorously. “No, I belong to Minister Lou…”

“Minister Lou… the Minister of Revenue, Lou?” Lou Shuwan, though jokingly called the “female prime minister” within Tian Hu’s regime, actually held the post of Minister of Revenue. “She’s been imprisoned…”

The clerk looked at him, and after a moment: “The Tiger King may have already lost his head.”

…

In the prison, the sound of voices and footsteps surged toward the innermost cell. The jailer opened the cell door and set down the man inside—covered head to toe in wounds—and a physician soon arrived carrying various medicines and bandages. The man looked at them. “You…”

“There’s no time to explain. The Tiger King has fallen, the Zezhou army is in full rebellion, and refugees may soon storm the city. The Huaxia Army’s Qin Lu has been ordered to rescue General Wang and bring the refugee crisis in Zezhou under control.”

“You’re… Huaxia Army…”

The jailer nodded, listening to the faint sounds outside. “We hope to keep the situation as contained as possible, so Zezhou isn’t destroyed in one stroke.”

…

In a small courtyard within the city, Li Shishi stepped outside, listening to the tremendous chaos beyond, and looked toward an old man mending a wheel nearby. “Uncle Huang, what’s happening out there?”

“Rebellion, I’d guess.” Old Huang merely raised his head slightly, answering clearly.

“Oh.” Li Shishi, seeing his manner, understood something in her heart. After a moment: “Where are Brother Lu and Brother Yan Qing? Did they go out too?”

“Mm.” Old Huang picked up an awl and pried forcefully at a raised bump on the wheel, then blew on it. “They went to the army camp.”

After a moment, he added: “Seems like they’re going to kill a general.”

Though this gentle, kind woman was kept in the dark about many things, there were always some pieces of information that could be shared, and the old man, rarely enough, let one slip…

…

In Weisheng, rain poured down in torrents.

The fighting within the imperial city continued. Lou Shuwan walked across the plaza under an umbrella held by an attendant, dressed simply in black, with a long line of guards following behind her. Walking alongside her was a middle-aged man dressed like a merchant, short and stout, with a smile on his face, another attendant holding an umbrella over him as well.

Outside a room across the plaza, soldiers stood guard in a circle. Inside, three elderly men, clearly of high status, were drinking tea. When they saw Lou Shuwan arrive, they all stood, their faces filled with anger.

“Lou Shuwan! How dare you commit treason!” someone shouted loudly, slamming a palm on the table—perhaps also venting his anger at being forcibly brought here.

Lou Shuwan walked straight over and cupped her hands in salute. “Lord Yuan, Lord Tang, Lord Liao, time is limited—let’s not beat around the bush.”

She said, “Let’s talk about the current situation.”

Outside the hall, the rain fell like black ink, blotting out sun and sky.