The sky hung heavy and dark. Toward the end of the first month, snow lay everywhere, and the wind cutting through the cities had turned bitterly cold.
At Gaizhou’s Chunping Granary, the towering outer walls were hung with icicles, standing like a grim fortress. Along the granary’s perimeter, white mourning silk had been strung up; patrolling soldiers carrying crimson-tasseled spears walked past along the top of the wall.
Along a side road outside the granary, a company of mounted soldiers was returning. At their head rode Wei Cheng, the general guarding Chunping Granary, his mind uneasy. As they neared the granary gate, a rumbling crash sounded — ice hanging from nearby rooftops had broken loose and shattered on the road below. Spring had arrived; this had become, of late, the most common sight around.
At the gate, just as he was about to order the soldiers within to open it, the guards atop the wall suddenly grew alert, pointing ahead. Down the broad road, figures were approaching — first cavalry, then infantry, crowding the wide roadway until it was packed solid.
The commander at the head of the approaching force wore a mild expression on his face; he produced his token of command first. “Would this be General Wei Cheng? I am Guan Song of the Changning Army, here by order of Commander An, to assist in the defense of Chunping Granary.”
“The Changning Army.” Wei Cheng’s face darkened. “Since when does the Changning Army have any business with Chunping Granary? I take my orders from Lord Fang alone.”
“This is wartime, and command falls to the military. Chunping Granary is a critical site for military stores. There are Jurchen spies now seeking to sabotage it in secret, and this humble general has come under orders precisely for that reason. General An has already spoken with Lord Fang Qiong about the matter, and Lord Fang has already given his consent. If you doubt me, you may go and ask him yourself.”
“Without a proper order—”
“The situation is urgent! This humble general has no time to waste dawdling with you here. Open the gate at once!”
A flash of cold steel — the mounted commander had already drawn his blade, and behind him, rank after rank of cavalry drew their swords as well, spear formations bristling like a forest behind them, all aimed at Wei Cheng’s small company. The soldiers within Chunping Granary had already begun to stir; the cold wind moaned, sweeping over the skies above Gaizhou.
Wei Cheng stared at that edge of steel. Behind him, the soldiers atop the wall had raised their bows, but against the pressing ranks before them, the defense still looked thin. His expression wavered before that drawn blade; after a moment, he too reached for his sword and pointed it forward.
“Gaizhou lies in the rear, and Chunping Granary sits within the city itself… The Prince of Jin has only just died, and you mean to rebel?”
Cold steel faced cold steel; along the length of the street, killing intent filled the air…
…
The alliance meeting had taken place on the twenty-first of the first month; on the twenty-second, the Prince of Jin, Tian Shi, had died; and in the days that followed, word spread across the entire Jin region. In the days after, north of the Yellow River, the atmosphere turned grim and the situation chaotic; undercurrents beneath the surface had already grown fierce enough that they could no longer be suppressed. Officials and factions large and small, in their unease, each made their own choices.
At Jiaocheng, rain looked ready to fall.
Lin Zongwu stood with his hands clasped behind his back beneath the eaves, his massive frame like some towering deity, casting an immense weight of pressure on the old man drinking tea not far off.
“Since Tian Shi’s death, people’s hearts are unsettled. Lately, all sorts of visitors have come calling on me, each with their own hidden agenda. Some hope to win me over, some hope to attach themselves to me, and some urge me to surrender to the Jurchens. I’ve had a fire building in my chest of late, Elder Chang — what exactly are you trying to accomplish, urging me to go to Weisheng?”
“No ill intent whatsoever, Grand Teacher, none at all!” The old man surnamed Chang waved his hands, working hard to clarify his intentions. “Consider it, Grand Teacher — on the twenty-first, the factions of the Jin region held their alliance meeting, and on the twenty-second, the Prince of Jin died at the hands of the Jurchens. At Weisheng, a lone woman, Lou Shuwan, holds the throne — ruthless and short-sighted as she is — and though Yu Yulin has an army under his command, it isn’t enough to hold down every faction. The Jin region is about to fall into chaos…”
The old man cupped his hands. “My Chang family has built its foothold in the Jin region over many years, and we too seek to protect ourselves, Grand Teacher. If the Jin region falls into chaos, the common people will suffer terribly, and my family will be no exception. So, even with the Prince of Jin gone, someone must be found to take up the pieces that remain. Setting aside the fact that the Prince of Jin’s own faction is now headed by a woman, with no one commanding enough respect to unite the rest — Wang Juyun’s wandering armies, though they once claimed a million men, are outsiders, and that million-strong horde of beggars has already been scattered and broken; the Black Banner Army has some renown, but with a mere ten thousand men, how could it possibly hold the whole Jin region steady? Ji Qingli and the other great bandits have blood on their hands from countless victims — the alliance meeting for them was little more than an afterthought, and now that resistance looks hopeless, they’re likely just looking to grab what they can and run. Turning it over every which way, only the Grand Teacher, with the millions of followers of the Great Brightness Sect, commands the martial strength and reputation to win everyone’s respect. If the Grand Teacher does not go to Weisheng, I fear Weisheng itself is about to fall into chaos…”
“Hmph.” Lin Zongwu let out a cold snort. “Weisheng falling into chaos — and I’m meant to go stir the pot even further! Old Chang, the Jurchens are coming, and you seek to save yourself — aren’t you simply a traitor to your own people?”
“Grand Teacher, that could never be, never!” The old man, growing desperate, dropped to his knees to plead his case. “The Chang family has standing and reputation too. If word of what you’re saying got out, wouldn’t my whole family be cursed and reviled throughout the Jin region…” He went on, “Grand Teacher, it’s only natural you’d suspect me. But, whatever else — the situation at Weisheng needs someone to take it in hand. If the Grand Teacher has no interest in that seat himself, at least go to Weisheng — the moment you show your face, everyone will have something to rally around…”
Lin Zongwu turned to look at him for a long moment. “I don’t care what scheme you’re playing at, coming here with your honeyed words — I won’t pursue that today. But, Elder Chang, your entire family is here in this city. If I should ever learn that you came to me today at the Jurchens’ bidding… I will not leave a single soul of your household alive, down to the dogs and chickens.”
He spoke this, word by word, and the kneeling old man’s body shook, and he offered no further argument. Lin Zongwu said, “Go now, Elder Chang. I meant nothing more by it — don’t take it too much to heart.”
The old man rose and took his leave, though he hesitated once more at the last moment. “Grand Teacher, then… when will you…”
“Get out!” Lin Zongwu’s voice cracked like thunder, his teeth gritted. “Is this decision of mine something you’re fit to weigh in on!?”
At these words the old man fled in disarray. Lin Zongwu stood there with his hands clasped behind his back. Before long, Wang Nantuo came in, and found Lin Zongwu’s expression more complicated than he had ever seen it.
“It’s going to rain.”
He said only this, quietly.
Not long after, a light rain began to fall. The cold cut to the bone.
…
A great vessel was slowly sinking.
Heshun.
Night was falling gradually. Within the small city, an atmosphere of chaos was spreading.
“Clang! Clang! Clang!” The heavy, rhythmic ring of hammer strokes rang out. In a courtyard lit by roaring fire, refined steel blades were taking shape one after another. Shi Jin, stripped to the waist, watched the sparks fly from the blade taking form before him, and like the other smiths, bent himself to the work of forging steel.
A small band of militia had gathered here, centered around his name.
At Shi Jin’s side was one of his deputies among the militia, a woman named Li Hongu, who had followed him out from Chifeng Mountain and had been his companion ever since. At this moment she was outside, gathering the more than a hundred men of this militia together. Entering the courtyard where the ironwork was underway, Shi Jin sat down and wiped the sweat from his body with a cloth, resting briefly. Built like a bear, his body covered in countless scars, his gaze cold and distant as he stared into the fire — there was an iron, bloodied quality to him.
“Dragon King, everyone’s assembled.”
“Mm.” The light in Shi Jin’s eyes softened somewhat as he raised his head. “Anyone wanting to leave?”
“Everyone’s only asking where you want to go, Dragon King.”
“I’ve already decided…” Shi Jin said, pausing a moment before continuing. “We’re going to Weisheng.”
The woman nodded, then frowned, and finally couldn’t help asking, “Didn’t the Dragon King once say he never wanted to go near a place like that again…”
After Chifeng Mountain, and especially after Lin Chong’s death, Shi Jin had no longer wished to involve himself in large, complicated struggles for power, and he’d held many reservations about Weisheng, the core of the Prince of Jin’s power, in particular — though he had no objection to others borrowing his reputation for good ends. At the Fenyang alliance meeting, though he commanded only a little over a hundred men, his name carried weight, and Tian Shi’s side had specially invited him; though he hadn’t gone himself, he had sent a representative to lend his full support to the cause.
Now, with Tian Shi so newly dead, the Prince of Jin’s faction was left leaderless, and the situation at Weisheng was more sensitive than ever. Li Hongu couldn’t understand why Shi Jin had suddenly changed his mind, and so she asked. Shi Jin stood, nodded slightly, and said, “Going to save people.”
“Save people?”
“Mm… The Prince of Jin died resisting the Jurchens. Now that things have fallen apart, those who stood by his side are likely to face reckoning soon enough. General Yu, and that woman prime minister, Lou Shuwan — they stood at Tian Shi’s side, and the situation must already be quite dangerous for them.”
In the firelight, Shi Jin put on his coat and picked up his iron staff. “The Prince of Jin died resisting the Jurchens, and we have no way to repay that except this — these loyal servants shouldn’t have to suffer such misfortune on top of it. I’m no hand at military affairs or dealing with people, but I still have one life to give — if things at Weisheng grow desperate, if it falls into great chaos, I’ll stake my life on it, at the very least to see them kept safe.”
“…I think, if old hero Zhou were still alive, he’d do the very same thing.”
The Dragon King’s figure left the smithing courtyard, flickering bright and dim in the firelight. Outside, he explained his intention to the more than a hundred men gathered there, giving each of them the chance to choose otherwise.
No one chose to leave.
That night, the group set out from Heshun, on the road toward Weisheng. The light of their torches swayed across the dark land through the night, and in the days that followed, more people, drawn by the name of the Eight-Armed Dragon King, gathered to join them on the road to Weisheng. Like scattered sparks surviving in the dark, they cast their own small light into the night…
…
At Weisheng, dark clouds pressed low, as if the city itself might crumble beneath their weight.
The Tianji Palace covered a vast expanse of ground, but ever since Tian Shi had marched out to war the year before, Lou Shuwan had ruthlessly slashed every unnecessary expense within the palace. Now the great halls felt hollow and cold. Since the resistance against the Jurchens had begun the year before, so many had died and so much blood had been spilled within these halls that, looking out from certain doorways, the vast palace seemed almost like a realm of the dead, countless lost souls wandering outside, seeking vengeance.
The whole situation was sliding toward an abyss.
Had this been Lou Shuwan of the late Tian Hu era, her power would have rested on a shared foundation of common interest within the system — and when Tian Hu, in a fit of madness, had tried to have her killed, it was through the Huaxia Army’s covert support and Yu Yulin’s military backing, combined with the vast web of interests tying the whole system together, that Lou Shuwan had accomplished her stunning reversal against Tian Hu, and in the process helped put Tian Shi on the throne.
With Tian Shi and Yu Yulin providing the platform, Lou Shuwan had driven forward the resistance against the Jurchens — but it was that very resistance that had shattered the shared web of interests that had once held the Prince of Jin’s system together as a common body. Tian Shi’s own growing resolve had strengthened his grip on the army, but that grip had been lost the moment he died. Now Lou Shuwan no longer held any substantial leverage in hand; all she could rely on were a few fiercely resolute souls determined to resist the Jurchens, and whatever forces of the Jin system remained under Yu Yulin’s command.
And even among those determined to resist, many, in truth, would not have minded seeing Lou Shuwan fall.
And so, from the moment they parted at Gusong Post Station, Yu Yulin had begun mobilizing his troops to seize resources and supplies from various regions, pressuring and persuading the different factions in an effort to secure whatever base of power he could hold onto. Lou Shuwan, back in Weisheng, had marched into the Tianji Palace with an air of grim determination. She could not, of course, sustain her rule through such a posture for long, but the ruthlessness and near-madness she had shown in the past could still intimidate some of those around her — at the very least, anyone with any sense, seeing the stance Lou Shuwan had struck, would understand: even if she could not kill everyone standing in her way, she would, at the very least, devour raw the first force to stand against her.
The Jurchens’ influence, too, had already begun stirring within the Prince of Jin’s system.
Though the heavy snow had not yet melted and the Jurchen forces pressing from the north had not yet launched their assault, that assault was only a matter of time. With this understood, and with the crushing blow of Tian Shi’s death still fresh, far too many factions had already begun leaning toward the Jurchens. Some, without openly declaring themselves, had already begun actively seizing control of passes, cities, and stores of supplies. Within a matter of days, several of the great clans’ commanders in the army had already begun repositioning themselves; division and conflict spread silently but violently. In just a few days, reports pouring in from every direction had grown chilling enough to make one’s blood run cold.
This was the pressure of overwhelming circumstance — beneath the weight of the Jurchen army’s advance, it was like spring sunlight melting snow, nearly impossible to resist. In these days, Lou Shuwan constantly reassessed, in her own mind, where each force’s true loyalty lay, sending people out to persuade or threaten, hoping to preserve enough leverage and enough living strength. But even the garrison forces right around Weisheng were, by now, already splintering and taking sides.
On the second day of the second month — the day of the Dragon Head-Raising Festival — rain fell over Weisheng that night. In the night, all the snow that had gathered on the trees and eaves finally came down, and as the ice and snow began to melt, the cold cut deeper than ever into the bone. It was on this same night that someone slipped quietly into the palace, bringing word: “…Lord Liao sends word — he wishes to talk.”
Lou Shuwan drew a breath.
When Lou Shuwan had killed Tian Hu, the Prince of Jin’s power base had rested on three great clans: the Yuan family, headed by Yuan Zhanxia; the Tang family, under Tang Shun; and the Liao family, under Liao Yiren. Later, once the resistance against the Jurchens began, the Yuan family had obstructed the effort, and Lou Shuwan had led troops to wipe out the entire Yuan clan. By now, both the Liao and Tang families had made moves in both military and political spheres, but the faction most inclined toward surrendering to the Jurchens was primarily led by the Liao family. That they now wished to talk suggested that whatever quiet coalition-building had been underway behind the scenes had likely reached a considerable scale.
“Very well,” she said. “Let’s talk, then.”
The cold rain fell over every corner of this dark palace city; beyond its walls, countless confrontations had already taken shape, and violent, fierce conflict could erupt at any moment.
Blood was about to flow like a river…
A great vessel was slowly sinking.
…
The Jurchens, at Shuliesu’s encampment.
Wanyan Xiyin and the great general Shuliesu stepped out of the central command tent and saw the entire camp already stirring, preparing to break and move out. He cupped his hands toward Shuliesu.
“The ice and snow have not yet melted, and this attack comes a little hastily. Still, the Jin region is already in chaos — a heavy blow now could force them into a decision sooner.” He paused briefly, then added, “The Black Banner Army’s strength is formidable, but with the general leading the attack, it will certainly fall into your hands. This battle matters greatly — take care of yourself, General.”
Shuliesu’s face carried nothing but the light of confident battle-lust. “If I cannot defeat them, I will bring my own head back to you.”
With the frozen ground still unyielding, in that very instant came the crack of thunder and lightning across the sky — the war of the tenth year of Jianshuo had begun, and it would be waged by whatever means proved necessary, with nothing held back.