The sun blazed fiercely, wind howled across the land, and Lin Chong rode his horse along the mountain road, galloping south.

He had served as a constable in Wozhou for years and knew the surrounding conditions well. He understood that if the Jurchens truly wanted to intercept this message, the forces they could bring to bear would be considerable, and given that even a power like Bronze Bull Fort had been mobilized, local snakes with deep roots in the area were surely involved as well. He traveled cautiously along the small paths near the main road, but before even half a day had passed, he spotted figures moving in the woods in the distance.

This mountain path ran separate from the main southbound road, relatively remote and rarely traveled by ordinary people. Those who chose this route tended to be men with backgrounds in the greenwood — bandits and outlaws of one stripe or another. In such desolate stretches, robbery and murder were far from rare. The figures ahead in the woods clearly had sharp eyes — perhaps hunters, or scouts with military backgrounds — and Lin Chong sensed he’d been spotted; the other side had clearly seen him too. A moment later, a whistling signal arrow shot up into the sky.

Lin Chong rode straight into the trees, dodging two arrows fired at him, then leapt up into the treetops, seized the scout there, and killed him with a single strike. At the edge of his vision, more figures, now alerted, were already closing in.

These were likely mountain bandits or local villagers who lived off plunder, armed with blades, staffs, and pitchforks, closing in raggedly dressed. Lin Chong sighed inwardly and charged out along a slanting path. The terrain on the Prince of Jin’s territory was rugged, with trees of uneven height scattered through the woods and rocks tangled among the underbrush like jagged teeth. He abandoned his horse and moved forward at high speed. Three men rushed at him head-on; with a casual sweep and strike he sent two of them sprawling, heads split open and bleeding, while the third hesitated just long enough to lose track of him entirely.

By the time the larger group closed in to surround him, Lin Chong had already scaled a rugged ridge to one side. His steps were nimble, his movements light as a leopard’s, and he kept moving without pause. Within moments, the crowd, dumbfounded, lost all trace of him.

The wind roared overhead as he, with a grandmaster’s skill, crossed ridge after ridge, occasionally composing himself to walk the main road hidden among travelers — though doing so slowed him down. By now he had left Wozhou’s borders, and after continuing on a while longer, he saw ahead a checkpoint where officers were patrolling and inspecting travelers with unusual rigor.

Having served as a constable himself for so many years, Lin Chong could tell at a glance that these men were searching with clear purpose — no doubt officials at the nearby yamen had been co-opted by the Jurchens as well. The bandits of Bronze Bull Fort hadn’t all been killed the day before, and with the advantage of carrier pigeons, these people always seemed to learn of troop movements ahead of time. He touched the roster tucked against his chest and quietly slipped away from the crowd, circling instead through the mountains.

Having stayed away from all matters of “state and nation” for so many years, only now did he begin to sense the depth of the tension running beneath the surface. The Prince of Jin’s forces nominally submitted to the Jurchens, but had secretly long since begun mustering troops and horses in preparation to turn against them. Amid all this, who could say how many men had already seen enough of Jurchen blades and spears, and were no longer willing to throw their lives away for nothing.

Once this roster went out, tensions between the two sides would sharply escalate. Whether it was genuine or not, it was clear that many factions had already been jolted awake in secret and had begun to take reckless risks, while the anti-Jin faction within the Prince of Jin’s own ranks was surely watching just as closely, quietly compiling their own, real list of names.

Whether real or not, all he could do now was see this road through to its end.

Having settled these thoughts in his mind, he pressed on without stopping, angling west and then south, crossing two rivers along the way. As the sun turned red that evening, walking along the road, he found himself thinking of the sunsets he had watched over the years with Xu Jinhua and their child — and further back, the sunsets he remembered from Liangshan and from Bianliang.

That day he never stopped walking, covering nearly two hundred li back and forth, and by the early hours of the morning he gradually neared the area of Leping in Liaozhou. Yu Yulin’s army was stationed there; the camp stretched on for several li in every direction, its perimeter heavily guarded, near impossible for an ordinary person to breach. Small settlements had also sprung up nearby to serve the army. A camp couldn’t be stormed in the dead of night, so Lin Chong settled down in the hills nearby, planning to find a way in once it was light.

Since Xu Jinhua’s death, he had gone several nights without real rest. That night, sitting beneath a tree with his eyes closed, sleep still would not come. Memories surged through him, and pain and hollowness filled everything. As far as he was concerned, his own life no longer mattered; even the clarity in his mind couldn’t dull the regret — whatever was lost was lost for good. He alone remained, left to face the reality of that loss.

As the stars wheeled overhead, he opened his eyes to see, in the distance, the campfires of the army still flickering and drifting, stretching on without end — those scattered, endless lights seemed almost like the surging memories themselves. The sleepless night dragged on, unbearable, like passing through a long, dark tunnel. By the time the sky began to pale toward dawn, Lin Chong had sat in a daze for a long while; in the distant camp, the morning training had already begun.

Lin Chong quietly came down from the hills and moved along the perimeter of the camp. Rather than storming it outright, he hoped instead to catch General Yu Yulin at some chance moment when he happened to be leaving the camp — he’d once glimpsed the general from a distance before — but such a hope was clearly slim. Ragged and worn in appearance, yet moving like a phantom, Lin Chong circled the camp aimlessly several times, lingering near the gate for a long while, before he finally found his opening.

There was a vanguard officer in Yu Yulin’s army named Li Shuangyou, fairly well known among the common people in the Prince of Jin’s territory. Lin Chong had seen him twice before near Wozhou and knew this general had a hot-blooded, straightforward temperament, and a good reputation when it came to standing against the Jurchens. Just then, passing by this section of the camp, Lin Chong saw General Li inspecting the training grounds, about to leave. He leapt out at once from where he’d been hiding and called loudly into the camp, “General Li!”

Someone in a nearby watchtower shouted, “Who goes there!” Li Shuangyou glanced over from a distance, frowning, and saw the big man outside the camp raising his hand, walking toward the perimeter fence. “Message from the Black Banner!”

Lin Chong said this, then thought for a moment and added, “This is a matter of the utmost importance — please report it to General Yu Yulin at once!”

His voice rang out loud and clear, each word deliberate, and a stir ran through the crowd on the training grounds. These past days, though ordinary soldiers didn’t know the details of the hunt for this roster, plenty within the ranks had likely heard rumors of it. Li Shuangyou, already flanked and shielded by his personal guards, heard Lin Chong’s words and at once pushed his guards aside, stepping forward with his fist cupped in salute. “Are you the messenger yourself?” Then he added, “Send someone to notify the marshal at once.”

Knowing that this letter had finally reached its destination, and seeing the other man’s attitude, Lin Chong leapt forward mid-stride, and with a few quick steps launched himself clean over the several-zhang-high camp fence. “In loyal service,” he said.

Seeing Lin Chong’s skill, Li Shuangyou cupped his hands in respect and admiration, and did not press closer. Lin Chong stood at the edge of the training grounds, waiting for Yu Yulin’s arrival. It was still only morning, the air not yet too hot, a few wisps of cloud drifting overhead, and a cool breeze swept across the grounds, refreshing and pleasant. Lin Chong stood there, his mind drifting again into a daze.

At some point, the young soldier who had gone to deliver word returned, reporting to Li Shuangyou that the general was on his way. Li Shuangyou cupped his hands toward Lin Chong. “Sir, General Yu has arrived. This way, please.” Lin Chong came back to himself, nodded, and followed him forward.

As the group passed through the soldiers on the training grounds, Li Shuangyou’s pace slowed without his quite realizing it, and he found himself waiting for Lin Chong. As Lin Chong closed the distance between them, the surrounding soldiers drew nearer too. Something flickered faintly in his eyes; he became aware of his own racing heartbeat. His gaze turned bitter, and he let out a sigh.

Li Shuangyou cupped his hands in greeting; Lin Chong walked closer and reached out a hand. His stride was natural, his outstretched hand natural too. As their arms crossed, Lin Chong seized hold of him and charged forward.

Countless figures surged in from every side.

“Kill this traitor—!”

Lin Chong drove a heavy blow into the man’s throat, and the man in front of him crashed to the ground.

Then he heard the shouting rise up all around him.

Lin Chong shoved Li Shuangyou forward, sending seven or eight men in front sprawling into a tangled heap, and still more came rushing in. Even as he moved at full speed, the man struck back — Lin Chong slammed his fist into Li Shuangyou’s face, again and again, blood and something from his eye sockets spraying out. Lin Chong planted his feet on the man’s already-toppling body, knee, chest, shoulder, and his figure leapt up over the heads of the soldiers ahead, then came crashing down elbow-first, rolling, crashing forward as blades and spear-points crossed all around him like a forest of steel. Lin Chong swung his broadsword, flinging off thick gouts of blood, cutting and slashing in wide arcs; the men before him died, only to be replaced by more pushing up from behind, the formation advancing like a great wall, like the earth itself, and Lin Chong’s figure rose and fell within that sea of bodies…

“Kill this traitor to our people—!”

Voices shouted all around him…

A sea of people, pressing in without end…

…

As if something had been waiting all along, right at time’s own final point — in that instant of sinking and rising within the sea of bodies, there was, strangely, not a single ripple in his heart. If anything… it almost felt like anticipation.

Blades crossed in every direction, and he moved through that forest of steel; his heavy arms could crush a man’s chest inward with a single blow. Shields pressed in, and he smashed them into ruin; the sweep of his spear brought down more men still, as if he stood at the center of some drawn circle, a prison where everything within was death itself — yet still more men came charging forward. At times he leapt clear of the crowd, only to come crashing down again, and in the distance there still stretched what seemed an endless expanse.

Sunlight poured down, voices roared, corpses lay fallen on the ground, wounded soldiers trampled underfoot. Lin Chong stepped over bodies; a spear he’d seized thrust forward a full zhang before snapping off lodged inside a man’s body. Soldiers pressed in on him; blade-marks were cut across his own body, and still he smashed down the men around him, swinging his blade in wide arcs, cutting through the forest of spears and blades before him, carving out a sea of blood.

He hoped the other side wasn’t made of bad men.

He imagined that, before all these soldiers, nothing would go wrong.

Such an outcome…

Not good…

But not bad, either…

His fist smashed a man’s face to ruin; a blade cut across his back. He found himself remembering things now, his body pressing and crashing forward, shouting out from his mouth.

“The Jurchens march south—” The thunderous voice, driven by inner strength, carried out in every direction, like the wild roar of waves crashing against the shore. “Message from the Black Banner—”

Several men ahead crashed to the ground with a heavy thud. Lin Chong seized a broadsword and threw himself forward, carving a wave of blood across the legs of the men before him, pushing on through that crimson tide. A spear thrust down at him from above; Lin Chong’s body slid and rolled along the shaft, his knee sent a man flying, and he seized the spear and swept it wide.

“The Jurchens—” Three or four spears were knocked askew by his blow. Lin Chong thrust the spear-tip out, then dragged it back. “—march south—”

“…Message from the Black Banner!”

The voice carried out in every direction; the crowd was forced open a narrow gap, and Lin Chong pushed into it, only for the gap to close again around him. Boiling blood sprayed out — some his own, more of it others’.

The voice rose again amid the slaughter: “The Jurchens… are marching south! Message from the Black Banner—”

“…Message from the Black Banner—”

“…Message from the Black Banner—”

Near and far, many people heard that voice. The slaughter in the camp went on and on; through the sea of bodies, he advanced more than ten zhang, countless blades and spears thrusting at him, his whole body soaked crimson, still striking back without pause, and with every step forward he roared out the same words.

The Jurchens are marching south. Message from the Black Banner…

From the distant camp, a large force was approaching; some shouted for everyone to stop, others shouted that this man was a traitor, to be shown no mercy. The conflicting orders threw everything into even greater chaos, but Lin Chong, in the thick of it, was barely aware of any of it. He simply kept moving forward, shouting the same words over and over, almost mechanically. Somewhere deep inside, he felt a faint flicker of irony.

That in this lifetime, he would end up shouting the words “Black Banner.”

The events at Liangshan flashed before his eyes like a spinning lantern. He thought of that man named Ning Yi, who had killed the emperor — truly detestable, and yet, truly extraordinary too.

In a brief lull in the fighting, he saw birds flying across the sky.

Fine weather.

The Jurchens are marching south.

Message from the Black Banner.

He brought his blade down without mercy on the man before him. Someone struck back — far too slow, too weak, full of openings, easily dodged, no pain at all…

The Jurchens are marching south. Message from the Black Banner.

Brother Shi will save the child. That’s good.

He’s the real hero. He won’t have to go through any of this. That’s a good thing, truly…

Wherever his blade struck, men fell to the ground in terror. Cavalry had broken into the camp from one side; fighting had broken out on another flank as well. Lin Chong pressed forward, spear in hand. In the intensity of the fighting, there suddenly seemed, for a moment, to be no enemies left before him, so he simply walked forward, opening his mouth.

The Jurchens are marching south. Message from the Black Banner.

He himself could no longer hear his own voice.

Then more men appeared ahead, forming a human wall to block his path. Lin Chong showed no fear; he walked straight toward them, already resigned to more killing. Someone stepped forward through the wall of men to meet him.

Yu Yulin watched this crimson figure approaching slowly. The man was covered head to toe in blood, wounds beyond counting, and behind him lay a trail of fallen soldiers strewn every which way, stretching on and on. It left Yu Yulin stunned for a moment.

“Sir…”

He took a deep breath. “Sir, I am Marshal Yu Yulin. Are you the messenger?”

Lin Chong looked at him in confusion. He reached out a hand — he had meant to strike the man dead with a single blow, but in the end he turned his fist into an open palm and simply gripped the man’s robe. The guards moved to intervene, but Yu Yulin waved them off.

Lin Chong looked at him, then pulled a small pouch from inside his robe. It too was stained with blood and had been slashed once by a blade, but thanks to Lin Chong’s deliberate care, it was the least damaged thing on his entire body. Yu Yulin reached out to take it, but the blood-soaked man kept his grip tight, holding it suspended in the air.

Yu Yulin then produced his military tally. “I am General Yu Yulin. This is my seal of authority.”

The blood-soaked man gripped his collar, standing there for a long, long time, staring at that seal. Overhead, the clouds drifted freely; Yu Yulin’s soldiers were carrying out their mop-up and search operations. Figures still moved back and forth all around…

The Jurchens are marching south. Message from the Black Banner.

At last, he let go of the pouch. Then, at last, he let go of Yu Yulin’s collar too.

In the end, things always seem to take some unexpected turn — the world rarely goes as one wishes, nine times out of ten.

Lin Chong swayed on his feet, reaching out as if to steady himself on his spear — but the spear was already gone. He turned and walked away, unsteady on his feet. He needed to go back and find Brother Shi, to save An Ping.

“May I ask your honored name, sir…” Yu Yulin opened the pouch, glanced inside, and handed it to the man behind him. Turning back to ask again, he found only the man’s retreating back. “Quickly, fetch a physician.” He wanted to catch up to him, to steady him, to ask his name — a man of honor from the martial world who had done a great deed; even in death, his name deserved to be remembered. It was the least final comfort they could offer him.

Lin Chong reached out and grabbed the shaft of a spear jutting from a corpse, then gripped it with both hands, his body sliding down. He struggled once, trying to rise, but in the end toppled sideways to the ground, then rolled once, coming to rest face up toward the sky.

People gathered around him. “Sir, your name…”

The lips of the man on the ground moved faintly. He blinked; his eyes were a deep, bloody red, and blood ran down his cheeks and dripped onto the ground.

…

Zhenniang…

It felt like the very end of time, a long, long tunnel stretching out before him…

He stood there, watching countless people pass by — past Xu Jinhua, past Mu Yi, past the chaotic, restless days of Liangshan Marsh; so many friends, so many who had merely passed through his life, all rising up in memory now…

That year of heavy snow, he had carried a gourd of wine on the tip of his spear, walking the road toward the fodder yard…

Years ago in Bianliang, he had lived an easy life, full of smiles and hope…

A figure stood there, waiting for him…

Endless regret surged up in his heart, but in this moment, none of it mattered anymore.

That figure was watching him.

He took her hand—

And ran, all the way.

…

Yu Yulin had received the Black Banner’s message.

Shi Jin hurried through the streets of Wozhou, searching for the child’s whereabouts, waiting to reunite with his sworn brother.

Tan Lu dragged the struggling, wailing, screaming child forward, then suddenly stopped. Ahead on the street, an enormous figure had appeared, flanked by a great many men, watching him now in silent, solemn stillness.

In the southwest, the war around Zhengdeng had already begun; the sound of cannon fire rang out. A force of eight thousand had already leapt beyond the mountain ranges, circling toward Xuzhou — some made way for them, others did not.

In the Central Plains, ravenous, despair-ridden hordes burned through newly seized cities, their devastation spreading unchecked.

In the north, Wanyan Zongfu and Wanyan Zongbi mounted their horses and took the first step of their southward march; with a wave of their arms, a thousand banners rose and snapped in the wind.

An unnamed foot soldier had died.

The world would never again know the Panther Head.