The affairs of the world never rest.

At every moment, some lives fall like shooting stars, while those who remain must carry on their journey.

Shi Jin, traveling south, arrived at last in Wozhou after a long and roundabout journey. Compared to the near-lifeless despair he’d carried on his way north, his reunion with his sworn brother Lin Chong had become the single most joyful event of these past several years. Amid the ceaseless rise and fall of this chaotic age, the supposedly stirring, high-minded cause of resisting the Jurchens amounted, on the road, to little more than an interweaving of grief and desolation. Whatever romance could be found in all this living and dying existed mostly in the embellishments of others. To live through it directly was to find the whole world turned to mire.

Only his reunion with Lin Chong still carried a spark of life in it. That this brother of his had survived — had even come to some kind of awakening — made it feel as though there was, after all, still some path forward in this world.

He took on the responsibility of finding Lin Chong’s child. Arriving in Wozhou, he sought out the local strongmen and greenwood contacts to begin tracing leads. Though Red Peak Mountain had once been a formidable power in its own right before its internal strife, it had never operated in Wozhou, so this search took some time. By the time he finally learned of that earth-shattering duel in Wozhou that night, Shi Jin nearly burst out laughing. Lin Zongwu had spent his whole life thinking far too highly of himself, forever proclaiming his martial skill unmatched under heaven; a decade or more ago he had sought out Grandmaster Zhou Tong for a match and failed to find him, and now, more than a decade later, he had been defeated in bafflingly humiliating fashion under Brother Lin Chong’s spear. Shi Jin couldn’t help wondering what expression must be on the man’s face now.

And thinking further on how formidable Lin Chong’s skill had become, Shi Jin imagined that after their reunion, even without pursuing any grand cause, the two of them might follow in Grandmaster Zhou’s footsteps — travel the realm together, gather a handful of righteous companions, kill Jurchen dogs and root out traitors, doing only whatever small good lay within their reach, laughing their way freely across the world. That, too, would be a fine thing.

With this thought settled in his mind, he found a measure of temporary peace. He continued searching for word of Mu Anping while waiting for Lin Chong’s return, and along the way also inquired after the whereabouts of Qi Ao of the Qi family. But as time passed with no news of either Mu Anping or Lin Chong, the unease in Shi Jin’s heart inevitably began to build; even when he forced it down, it would occasionally surge back up again.

By the sixth day after his arrival in Wozhou, he still hadn’t located Tan Lu or Mu Anping. He reckoned that, given Lin Chong’s skill, he had either already delivered the message, or had been ambushed and killed along the way — either way, some word should have come by now. Then he heard a piece of news from the north.

The day before, Wang Juyun’s forces, stationed to the north, had suddenly moved southeast, targeting Yucheng, east of Wozhou. When this news arrived, Wozhou immediately went under martial law, with soldiers manning the walls, guarding against a possible surprise attack.

Sensing the grim, tense atmosphere of an approaching army, the people within Wozhou grew anxious and unsettled, and Shi Jin, too, was jolted alert by the mood.

He understood well enough what was coming.

To the north, the Jurchens’ preparations for their southern campaign were nearly complete, and the various factions of the puppet Qi regime were, to varying degrees, already aware of it. South of Yanmen Pass, the Prince of Jin’s territory nominally still submitted to the Jurchens, but had long since secretly linked up with the Black Banner Army. The righteous army under Wang Juyun, which had already raised the banner of resistance against the Jin, had also made faint appearances during last year’s chaos under Tian Hu; though the two sides were nominally opposed, in practice they had long been quietly cooperating. Wang Juyun’s forces closing in on Wozhou almost certainly weren’t aimed at the Prince of Jin.

The direction of Yucheng was where a collateral branch of the great Confucian scholar Qi Yan’s family resided.

The wind carried word of danger everywhere; the final, decisive clash — a fight to the death — had already begun.

With much on his mind, he left Wozhou before dawn the next day and headed south. Martial law had already spread along the road, and less than half a day after leaving Wozhou, he suddenly heard that the Cloud-Piercing Army, garrisoned at Huguan in the southeast, had risen in revolt. This army, under the command of Lu Hui and Yun Zongwu, had had its rebellion plans exposed, and fierce fighting was now underway around Huguan.

Continuing south, he saw armies on the move everywhere along the road; a great upheaval seemed to be breaking out with no warning at all. Many gentry clans and prominent families that had once held high positions within the Prince of Jin’s system were now being swept up in it. Troops poured out of every city, ransacking one noble household after another; the elderly, women, and children of these great clans were dragged out and marched into the cities under guard, and in some cities, people had already begun to be publicly beheaded as a warning to others.

There had been plenty of power struggles within the Prince of Jin’s ranks before, but the scale of this one clearly dwarfed anything that had come before.

Shi Jin, however, understood exactly what was happening.

Ever since he’d taken on the intelligence mission from the Huaxia Army’s “Clown” and set out for the Prince of Jin’s territory, the road had been fraught with fierce ambushes, while support along the way had been scarce. Shi Jin understood then that the intelligence was most likely genuine — otherwise the various southern factions would never have reacted with such desperate, cornered ferocity. They knew perfectly well that once the message got through, everyone’s hidden cards would be exposed; whereas if they could intercept the messenger along the way, many things could still be denied after the fact.

But this piece of intelligence surely wasn’t the only copy in his hands alone. Given how careful and calculating the “Clown” was, it would hardly make sense to put all the eggs in one basket. If the Black Banner Army, having established itself in the north, still had to scramble to find just one man to carry a message, that would be a joke indeed.

He himself might well be nothing more than bait, meant to draw out the various secretly scheming factions — and even those not on the list might, in the process, end up exposing themselves. Shi Jin held no grievance over this. But now, with this enormous chaos suddenly erupting across the Prince of Jin’s territory, it could only mean that Tian Shi, Lou Shuwan, Yu Yulin, and the others had already identified their targets and begun to act.

Where had Brother Lin ultimately delivered the message…

By now the roads around him had been sealed off. Shi Jin continued south and reached Xingzhou, where, following an old arrangement, he slipped into the city and found a few former subordinates from Red Peak Mountain, sending them out to gather word and help him inquire — Shi Jin had disbanded his old followers once before, disheartened, and had it not been for the urgency of this matter, he would never have wanted to burden these old comrades again.

Leaving Xingzhou, he traveled east in a roundabout way, and by the time he reached the Leping camp near Liaozhou, Yu Yulin’s army had already sent half its forces marching toward Huguan. Both inside and around Leping, the atmosphere was equally grim and tense. After much deliberation, Shi Jin finally had his old subordinates reveal his name and request an audience with Lou Shuwan, who happened to be at Leping overseeing operations at the time.

Not long after, he learned of Lin Chong’s fate.

The messenger had, by then, just been laid to rest.

The autumn wind moaned mournfully. Both inside and outside the walls of Leping, fortification work continued. That day, Shi Jin felt an overwhelming sorrow — not the familiar weariness of a seasoned campaigner long inured to the battlefield, but a despair that felt like everything sinking irretrievably into darkness. Since the days, more than a decade ago, when Grandmaster Zhou Tong and the others had thrown themselves like moths into the flame, he had watched, over these ten-odd years, everything good in the world shatter amid the chaos — those who fought for what was right, those who had once stood shoulder to shoulder with him in battle, those he had loved, those who carried the weight of old friendships…

Across the arc of more than a decade, Brother Lin, in the days following their reunion, had at last been swallowed by that same darkness.

The Jurchens march south. Message from the Black Banner…

Standing in that camp still stained with blood, Shi Jin could almost hear the other man’s final cry. Li Shuangyou’s betrayal had been utterly unforeseen — had Shi Jin himself gone in Lin Chong’s place, he might well have fallen into the same trap. And yet Shi Jin also felt that such an end was, in its own way, precisely what Lin Chong had been seeking all along.

He lingered in the camp a long while, then went to see Lin Chong’s grave. That night, torches burned bright along Leping’s walls; laborers worked through the night reinforcing the fortifications, their shouts mingled with cries of fear. Lou Shuwan, the woman chancellor clad in black, was there overseeing the progress of the entire project. She would need to rush to the next city soon, but she wished to see Shi Jin once more first — and Shi Jin, too, had a matter he wished to entrust to her.

“…I regret that we offered no assistance on your journey south, and I ask Hero Shi’s forgiveness. This message’s authenticity was genuinely uncertain from the start — more than one or two people claimed to be carrying intelligence southward, and the Jurchens’ own spymaster Gushen sent his own people mixed in among them as well. In truth, we were able to use this opportunity to uncover a great many hidden traitors — and the Jurchens, for their part, were no doubt using this same opportunity to force the wavering to declare themselves. Once that roster went out, there was no more room left for anyone to sit on the fence.”

Torchlight flickered along the walls. This woman in a black robe, with her cold, composed expression, appeared unyielding — only someone of Shi Jin’s own martial standing could see the exhaustion beneath her bearing. As she walked and spoke, her words, though cold, carried an oddly calming weight to them. “I won’t waste time speaking in circles. The Jurchens’ southern advance is imminent, and the realm faces mortal danger. Hero Shi, you once ran Red Peak Mountain and still carry considerable influence there. I wonder whether you’d be willing to stay and fight alongside us. I know you’re grieving the loss of your friend, but given the times we live in… I ask your forgiveness.”

Looking at the exhaustion and resilience in the woman’s eyes, Shi Jin found himself thinking, almost involuntarily, that his own management of Red Peak Mountain back in the day had perhaps not measured up to what this one woman had achieved. After the internal strife at Red Peak Mountain, a violent clash had forced Shi Jin and his followers out, though tens of thousands still remained on the mountain; with the Prince of Jin’s backing, retaking Red Peak Mountain would hardly be difficult for him. And yet, in this moment, he found he still could not bring himself to agree.

“Under ordinary circumstances, I would never refuse such a request. But my sworn brother here still has kin who’ve fallen into the hands of scoundrels, not yet rescued. My own life means little to me, but this matter must be seen through, no matter what… I’ve come here today specifically to ask for Miss Lou’s help with this.”

Shi Jin cupped his hands and briefly recounted Lin Chong’s situation. Lin Chong’s child was in Tan Lu’s hands, and searching for him alone would be like searching for a needle in the ocean. The matter was too urgent — had it not been, a man of his temperament would never have brought himself to ask for help. As for Lin Chong’s enemy, Qi Ao, that could wait to be dealt with whenever — a minor matter by comparison.

Lou Shuwan listened quietly, then nodded. “Given this business with the roster, the surrounding region is bound to fall into chaos. I won’t hide it from you, Hero Shi — the Qi family has long since thrown in with the Jurchens, propping up Li Xizhi in the north, and here in the Prince of Jin’s territory, they’re also at the center of this current purge. If that Qi Ao is truly a collateral member of the Qi family, he’s likely already been arrested, and will be executed before long. As for the search — with war imminent, I’m afraid I can’t spare men to handle it specifically for you, Hero Shi. But I can prepare a written order for you, instructing local officials everywhere to cooperate with your investigation as needed. Given how chaotic things are about to become, many local powers and greenwood figures are bound to be arrested and questioned by the authorities — with this order in hand, you should be able to extract some useful information. Would that be acceptable?”

“I am deeply grateful for your kindness, Miss Lou. I shall repay it in time,” Shi Jin said, cupping his hands.

“It’s you, Hero Shi, who deserves the credit for carrying that message south — this is the least I can do, and I feel I owe you more than this,” the woman said, returning the gesture. “I must hurry back to Liaozhou tonight, so I won’t linger. If fate allows, I hope we might meet again on the battlefield.”

A faint smile crossed her cold features, and then she took her leave; officials who had come to report were already waiting nearby. Shi Jin watched this remarkable woman go, then looked out over the bustling activity along the walls. Laborers hauled great stones, chanting work songs as they reinforced the walls; organized groups of women and children took part as well, and amid all the shouting and clamor, many faces bore the same anxious uncertainty about what lay ahead. He recalled having seen much the same scene more than a decade earlier, the first time the Jurchens had marched south. People scrambling in panic to build whatever defenses they could, and after more than a decade, everything was still sinking, that faint hope still as distant as ever.

More than a decade ago, Hero Zhou had gone to his death with unshaken resolve. Now, more than a decade later, Brother Lin had died again, right after their long-awaited reunion.

Over these ten-odd years, that vast darkness had never truly receded, and now it was coming again. Even meeting it head-on would likely mean nothing more than another round of sacrifice.

When would this world ever see an end to it?

With the realm about to fall into great chaos, and still holding on to the task of finding Lin Chong’s child, Shi Jin left Leping and headed north once more. He knew that before long, a massive whirlwind would grind the existing order to dust entirely, and his chances of finding the child would grow slimmer still.

But what of it…

That same July.

Thousands of li away, black banners swayed among the rolling mountains. In the Greater and Lesser Liangshan mountains of the southwest, homeland of the Yi people, a tense, grim atmosphere hung over everything.

Since June, when the Black Banner’s Liu Chengzong had led eight thousand troops leaping beyond the Liangshan region toward Xuzhou, the Wuxiang Army — garrisoned in the southwest on behalf of the Wu Dynasty and having clashed with the Black Banner several times before — had begun pressing forward under its chief general, Lu Qiaoshan. In early July, nearly a hundred thousand troops advanced on the Jinsha River basin near Liangshan, driving straight for Yellow Grass Ridge, deep in the heart of the Greater and Lesser Liangshan range, sealing off all routes in and out.

At the same time, instigated by the scholar Li Xiannong, who had penetrated deep into the heart of Liangshan, several Yi tribes and clans, led by the Mangshan clan of Lesser Liangshan, began stirring within the mountains — sending warriors to set fires, harass, and assassinate along the Black Banner’s borders, or striking at the trade routes the Black Banner had long maintained through the mountains, ambushing caravans or cutting down isolated Black Banner soldiers. Within a single month, the trade the Black Banner had painstakingly built up had dropped to less than half its former volume.

Deep in the Liangshan mountains, the rice crops across the fourteen townships of Jishan, Hedeng, and Bulai counties were just ripening. To secure the coming autumn harvest, the Huaxia Army immediately adopted a defensive strategy of contraction. Most of the residents of the three Hedeng counties were outsiders, the largest groups coming from the northwest, Little Cang River, and Green Wood Stockade, along with soldiers’ families relocated from the Central Plains. Having already lost their original homes and been driven from their native lands, these people longed all the more fiercely to put down roots somewhere new. Over several years they had cleared a great deal of farmland and tended it with great care, and now, come this autumn, the Mangshan Yi had launched a large-scale offensive aimed at burning fields and homes, with killing as a secondary concern. The residents of the surrounding fourteen townships banded together, forming a militia to stand alongside the Huaxia Army soldiers in defense of their farmland, and clashes large and small broke out constantly.

The looming chaos to the north of the Central Plains, the ravening hordes rampaging in the south, Liu Yu’s “return to allegiance,” the vigorous war preparations in the south of the Yangtze, the sudden tension in the southwest, and the eight thousand Black Banner troops now leaping toward Xuzhou — in an age when news traveled slowly, few people could see how all these threads connected. East of Liangshan lay Zizhou Prefecture, the foremost stronghold of northern Sichuan, second in scale only to Chengdu among the four Sichuan-Shaanxi circuits, and the core base from which the Wuxiang Army held the region.

Because of this large-scale mobilization by the Wuxiang Army, tensions in Zizhou Prefecture had risen as well, but since the Black Banner rebels themselves had made no major moves, the city’s public order and commerce remained largely unaffected. The Fu and Kai Rivers ran through the city, boats coming and going without pause, markets bustling, carriages and horses filling the streets. On this particular day, the city’s liveliest quarter, home to its finest pleasure house, the “Wild Goose South Tower,” was ablaze with lamplight; scholars and eminent Confucians who had traveled in from the east had gathered there, drinking and speaking of their ambitions while exchanging all manner of news and intelligence about the current state of affairs. The gathering was so grand that many of Zizhou’s own local gentry and notables had come to join as guests of honor.

Over these past several years, through the desperate efforts of countless people willing to stake their lives on it, the campaign to suppress and outmaneuver the regicidal traitor had finally arrived at this moment — the moment when blades would finally be drawn and blood finally spilled.

In the great hall of the pleasure house, the most renowned figure among those present was a man in his thirties, handsome and composed in bearing, with bright, arching brows and a beard beneath his chin — the kind of man whose presence alone commanded admiration. He now raised his wine cup. “The great trend of the moment is this: we have finally severed the arms and eyes that the regicidal Ning clan had extended outward. Strong as the rebels are, faced with the many heroes of the Yi people in Liangshan, they are like a mighty man mired in swamp mud — his strength rendered useless. So long as we, bearing the righteous cause of the court, continue to persuade the Yi people, gradually cutting off what limbs remain to them and severing the roots of their food supply, their strength will avail them nothing, and they will wither away, growing weaker and thinner until they starve. Our great work is not yet done, and we must press on with even greater effort — but there is one among us whose contribution to how far we’ve come today must never be forgotten… Gentlemen, please raise your cups, in honor of Brother Chengmao!”

At these words, the assembled crowd raised their cups in hearty agreement, all wholeheartedly toasting the man he named. Qin Zheng, who had once visited Li Pin in Lin’an, stood among the crowd as well, raising his cup and listening to the speaker with stirring emotion.

“…The rebel forces are formidable and not to be underestimated. Now that we have assisted Lord Lu in deploying troops, we seem to have found the rebels’ lifeline, striking and severing it piece by piece — behind this, who knows how much effort has been spent, how many of our own have fallen victim to that vicious rebel’s schemes in the process. Gentlemen, the road ahead is not an easy one, but I, Long Qifei, stand here, ready to walk it together with you all. Even if the road ahead leads through mountains of blades and seas of fire, the legacy of our Wu Dynasty must not be severed, and our spirit must not be broken—”

His words rang out, striking and resonant. This speaker was none other than Long Qifei, who had once personally taken part in debates at Hedeng and had since traveled far and wide rallying troops to march on Liangshan. The man they called “Chengmao” was Li Xiannong, the eminent Confucian scholar who had gone among the various Yi tribes, rallying the local peoples to resist the Black Banner. The two had originally set out on their separate paths driven purely by fervent conviction, but as their influence grew, they had gradually become mutually reinforcing leaders among the scholar class. Long Qifei had lobbied for war on many fronts to no avail, until the court finally decided to send troops; this time, he had turned over the Black Banner intelligence he had secretly gathered to cooperate with the Wuxiang Army’s Lu Qiaoshan, and together they had at last managed to sever, one by one, the many trade routes the Black Banner had spent years building up. In Liangshan itself, Li Xiannong’s success in persuading Langge, chieftain of the Mangshan clan, had also proven a crucial move in this overall strategy.

The Black Banner Army was formidable, but with eight thousand of its elite troops already deployed elsewhere, and with the critical autumn harvest approaching, the three counties of Hedeng, already short on resources under normal circumstances, could now only pull back defensively. Long Qifei also knew that Lu Qiaoshan’s Wuxiang Army wouldn’t dare face the Black Banner head-on in open battle — but so long as the Wuxiang Army could temporarily cut off the Black Banner’s trade and supply lines, he would keep working on Lu Qiaoshan, continuing to press the argument that “with what the general has already done, there’s no way the Black Banner will simply let this pass” and “once the door is opened even a crack, the Black Banner isn’t unbeatable after all.” He believed that, given enough time, General Lu would eventually find the resolve to commit to a full confrontation with the Black Banner.

Over these years, the Black Banner Army’s record had been formidable, and that fiend Ning Yi had proven endlessly cunning in his schemes. Long Qifei’s opposition to the Black Banner had begun, at first, purely out of passionate outrage. Having come this far, even though the Black Banner might appear sluggish, having made no move of its own, Long Qifei knew perfectly well that once they struck back, the consequences would not be pleasant. Still, for the men gathered here now — scholars driven by love of country, or sons of great houses burning with fervor, men who had set down their brush pens to take up arms — facing so formidable an enemy, such rousing words alone were enough to set their blood boiling.

So long as the enemy in those mountains could be made to draw first blood, and this great body of scholars would go boldly to their sacrifice, with some of them then returning to the capital to petition and plead for war, then surely the mighty Wu Dynasty would be roused to action — not merely the hundred thousand troops of the Wuxiang Army, and not merely the scene playing out here tonight. If the whole realm united its strength, vast as the ocean, then surely these bandits of the southwest could not withstand it — and once this regicidal rebel was finally destroyed, the Wu Dynasty’s spine would stand tall once more, and even if the Jurchens came again from the north, surely the countless millions of the mighty Wu Dynasty would this time be able to put up a real fight…

He set his cup down on the table with a resounding thud amid the crowd’s cheers, radiating heroic conviction.

But Long Qifei’s grand words did not travel very far.

Under a night as still as water, at the Wuxiang Army’s camp a hundred li from Zizhou, within a military tent, General Lu Qiaoshan was engaged in a warm, cordial conversation with a visitor from the mountains.

“…As for sealing off the mountain, you already know, sir — the court’s orders have come down, and Lu here has no choice but to carry them out. But I’ll be honest, I’m under considerable pressure as things stand. The court’s orders don’t simply call for holding position outside Lesser Liangshan and cutting off the Jinsha River trade route — that’s all. These past years, none of us have had it easy — shouldn’t we show each other some understanding? After all, I have the greatest admiration for that gentleman of yours…”

The tent was dimly lit. Lu Qiaoshan, a burly man, sat leaning slightly to one side in a spacious chair, his features dignified, though the slight upward curl at the corners of his mouth gave him a perpetually warm, approachable air — not even the knife scar across his lip could disturb that impression. Across from him sat a man in his thirties with a thin mustache, an ordinary-looking man standing right at the divide between youth and middle age: this was Su Wenfang, his brow honest, his manner sincere, and facing this military commander, he carried himself now with an unassuming dignity that the pampered young wastrel of Jiangning from more than a decade ago could never have imagined possessing.

“…I understand General Lu’s difficulty in all of this, of course. Master Ning himself has said as much — our two sides have gotten along very pleasantly in business these past few years, and Master Ning speaks highly of General Lu’s character, even up in the mountains. But ever since relocating to the southwest, our Huaxia Army has struggled just to hold our ground — establishing a real foothold has been far from easy… As General Lu well knows, our maintaining this trade route serves two purposes: on one hand, we hope the Wu Dynasty can hold off the Jurchen invasion; on the other, it’s a gesture of our own good faith, in the hope that one day you and we might stand shoulder to shoulder against a common enemy. After all, our side takes the name Huaxia — we have absolutely no wish for further conflict within the Wu Dynasty itself; such infighting only pains those close to us and delights our enemies.”

“Master Ning speaks with great reason.” Lu Qiaoshan nodded repeatedly.

“But now this trade route has been cut off,” Su Wenfang continued. “The three counties of Hedeng never produced much grain to begin with. When we sell you our cannon, much of the time we still need grain shipped in from outside just to sustain life in the mountains. This is simply a necessity, General Lu. If you cut off the grain route, trouble in the mountains is only a matter of time — Master Ning isn’t some miracle worker; he can’t conjure food for two hundred thousand mouths out of thin air. So of course, we hope everything can be resolved peacefully. But if it can’t be, Master Ning has said he may have no choice but to resort to the worst option available to him. Either way, the problem will be resolved one way or another.”

“The worst option?”

“The best strategy is to attack the enemy’s plans.”

“Ah… and the worst is to besiege cities.” Lu Qiaoshan thought for a long moment, nodded, then tilted his head slightly, his expression shifting. “Is Master Ning threatening me?”

“I would never presume such a thing…”

“Master Ning is threatening me! You’re threatening me!” Lu Qiaoshan nodded, grinding his teeth. “Fine — your Black Banner is formidable, my hundred thousand Wuxiang troops can’t defeat you, but do you really think so little of me? Do you take me, Lu Qiaoshan, for some coward clinging to life? I’ve got a hundred thousand men under my command, and now we’ve got your cannon too… I’ve taken on considerable risk for Master Ning’s sake, and I haven’t said a word about it. I admire Master Ning — but does Master Ning look down on me!?”

He leaned forward, his gaze finally turning fierce, fixed on Su Wenfang. Su Wenfang sat there, his expression unchanged, still smiling calmly at Lu Qiaoshan. After a pause: “You see, General Lu, you’ve misunderstood…”

“Of course it’s a misunderstanding.” Lu Qiaoshan laughed and leaned back again, waving a hand. “All a misunderstanding — I think so too, really. The truth is, the Huaxia Army is strong and well-provisioned; how could my Wuxiang Army possibly dare to fight you…”

“General Lu has it wrong. Before I left the mountains, Master Ning discussed this very matter with me. He said our Huaxia Army fears no one in battle — but if it truly came to blows with the Wuxiang Army, the result would likely be mutual destruction for both sides.” Su Wenfang spoke each word deliberately and earnestly. Lu Qiaoshan’s expression flickered with surprise for a moment, then he leaned forward. “Master Ning said this?”

“His own words.”

Lu Qiaoshan was clearly quite pleased by this. He smiled, considered it a moment, then nodded. “Mutual destruction, indeed.”

“We’ll do everything in our power to resolve this matter,” Su Wenfang said. “We hope General Lu can help as well — after all, if we can’t settle this amicably, in the end, mutual destruction is the only option left to us.”

“What help could I possibly offer, Envoy? I’ve already released everyone I could release.”

“Just a small favor.” Su Wenfang smiled, and before Lu Qiaoshan could interject, continued on. “Our Huaxia Army’s top priority right now is trade. We’ve signed contracts, made promises to various parties — some goods need to come in, others need to go out. Given how things have changed, we won’t be signing any new contracts for the time being, but the old ones still need to be honored. General Lu, there are a few shipments — surely you could look the other way on those, as a courtesy? That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on…” Lu Qiaoshan raised a hand. “Honestly, Envoy, I’d like to help, I really do — I want this whole affair settled quietly too. But the times have changed. You know how many people have poured into the southwest now, how many eyes are watching. Those scholars are practically begging to have me stripped of my post; they’d love nothing more than to personally command the army into the mountains and come back wrapped in horsehide. I’m under enormous pressure, and not just from the court’s orders — there are eyes watching from behind as well. If I so much as lift a finger on this, there’s no covering it up. I can’t bear the weight of a thousand accusing fingers pointed at my back — collaborating with the enemy in wartime means having your whole family put to death.”

“None of us have it easy, General Lu. We can talk this through.”

Lu Qiaoshan only waved his hand.

Su Wenfang’s expression turned serious. “General Lu, there’s no need to keep deflecting — let me speak plainly. Before I left the mountains, Master Ning told me he genuinely doesn’t want this fight. The reason is simple: the Jurchens are coming, they’re truly on their way! Wiping out the Mangshan clan, wiping out your forces — that really would mean mutual ruin for everyone. We’d much rather put our real strength toward fighting the Jurchens. If we settle things with the Jurchens, there’s still room for us to negotiate between ourselves. But if the Jurchens settle things with us instead, it means the end of Huaxia itself, root and branch. General Lu — is that truly what you want?”

Lu Qiaoshan clasped his hands together, thought for a moment, and sighed. “Do you think I don’t feel the same way? But honestly… my situation is one that Master Ning and you, Envoy, can both see plainly enough. Why don’t we do this — let’s sit down and discuss it carefully, work out some middle ground, where neither side cheats the other. To be honest, I admire Master Ning’s wisdom, but… he calculates things a bit too shrewdly. Look, with so many eyes watching me from behind, if the court orders me to attack you and I refuse to advance, while secretly helping you behind the scenes — even something small — what happens if Master Ning lets that slip out?”

Su Wenfang was about to speak when Lu Qiaoshan raised a hand. “Forgive me, forgive my petty suspicions.”

“There’s always a way to work things out,” Su Wenfang said.

“I think so too. But we’ll need time — we’ll need to find a way to communicate properly.” Lu Qiaoshan smiled, then added, “Actually, you probably don’t know this, but while you and I have been discussing matters here, things are quite lively over in Zizhou Prefecture. Up at the Wild Goose South Tower, Long Qifei is probably hosting a grand banquet for his guests right about now. Honestly, this whole affair was stirred up by them — a bunch of shortsighted pedantic scholars! The Jurchens are practically at the gates, and they’re still scheming against their own side! If it were up to me, I’d just leak word, send in some Black Banner men, and wipe the whole lot of them out in one go. Ha ha…”

As he spoke, Lu Qiaoshan burst into laughter. Su Wenfang laughed along with him. “Ah, well, let them do as they please. Master Ning already knows all about Long Qifei, Li Xiannong, and the rest of them — but he says, if putting on a show is what drives them mad, who are we to judge? We shouldn’t be so narrow-minded about it… Besides, this whole affair isn’t really something they could have pulled off on their own…”

“Oh — if putting on a show is what drives them mad, who are we to judge… Master Ning said that?” Lu Qiaoshan asked.

Su Wenfang nodded.

“Now that’s got some real philosophy to it… let me write that down, write that down…” Lu Qiaoshan muttered to himself, rising from his seat and walking to a nearby desk. He picked up a small notebook, took hold of a brush, and began carefully writing the line down. Su Wenfang frowned slightly but had no choice but to follow him over. Lu Qiaoshan praised the line at length, and the two discussed the whole matter further before Lu Qiaoshan finally saw Su Wenfang out.

This wasn’t the main command tent, and the surroundings here were quiet and secluded. After taking his leave of Lu Qiaoshan, Su Wenfang turned and walked away; by the time he’d gone a short distance, his face had already settled into a calm, expressionless mask. Lu Qiaoshan stood outside his tent, smiling and waving the whole while, and once Su Wenfang had been gone for some time, someone emerged from within the tent and came to stand behind him. Lu Qiaoshan’s expression, too, had already turned solemn and stern.

The man who emerged was Lu Qiaoshan’s adviser, Zhi Junhao. “General, which part of what the envoy said do you think was true, and which was false?”

“What do you mean, brother?”

“I mean the part about the three counties of Hedeng being unstable, unable to hold. Was that a deliberate show of weakness, or the truth dressed up as a lie?”

“Ning Yi is only a mortal man, not some deity. The mountain roads of Liangshan are rugged, resources scarce — he’s surely having a hard time of it. That much must be true.”

“Then what will you choose, General?”

“…Brother Zhi, this Black Banner Army before us has, it seems, kept its head down for six years now in the southwest. But if you count carefully, the great battle at Little Cang River only truly ended three years ago. This is an army that stood firm against a million-strong force in the north, that killed Wanyan Loushi and Ci Bushi in battle — all within the past three or four years. Long Qifei, Li Xiannong, and the rest are nothing but naive, pedantic scholars who think that cutting off a trade route is the same as commanding the tide of the realm — they have no idea what kind of beast they’re provoking. The Black Banner’s goodwill toward others is nothing more than a tiger dozing off for a moment. That envoy was right — the tiger won’t sleep forever… Push the Black Banner Army into its worst-case scenario, and the Wuxiang Army will be smashed to pieces.”

Zhi Junhao watched Lu Qiaoshan from the side as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the notebook in his hands. Word of his admiration for Ning Yi, and his occasional habit of jotting down the man’s odd sayings, had circulated within the innermost circle at the top; given how long the Black Banner and the Wuxiang Army had done business together, quite a few of those close to him already knew about it. But few people truly understood that, over the years since the Black Banner had established itself in the southwest, Lu Qiaoshan had repeatedly sought out information about Ning Yi, studying him, puzzling over his thinking, trying to guess at his psychology, and again and again, painstakingly rehearsing in his mind what it might be like to face him in battle…

“If I could help it, I wouldn’t want to be the one charging to the front, weighing whether to confront the Black Banner Army. But, Brother Zhi…” Lu Qiaoshan looked up, and something fierce and resolute gathered within his burly frame.

“…Brother Zhi… how could the name of Huaxia possibly be seized by a band of rebels like these?”

His voice wasn’t raised, and yet, set against the night around him, there also stretched an endless expanse of fluttering war banners, as far as the eye could see — a hundred thousand troops, the scent of war smoke thick in the air, already grim and vast as the sea.