Beacon fires spread and roared, war drums thundered, explosions crashed like rolling thunder, shaking the walls of the city to their foundations. At Tianchang County, north of Yangzhou, amid the storm of falling arrows, countless flaming stone shells arced through the air toward the distant battlements.

The gate tower atop the city wall had already collapsed in the blasts, gaps torn open in the parapets, banners toppled. Before them lay the vanguard of the Jurchen assault — more than fifty thousand troops gathered beneath the walls, hundreds of trebuchets hurling hollow stone shells packed with gunpowder against the walls like driving rain.

Within Tianchang County stood thirty thousand troops under Xie Yuan, a subordinate general of Han Shizhong. Tianchang, positioned on the front line north of Yangzhou, lay directly in the path of the Jurchen advance south. Small as the city was, it was easy to defend and hard to attack. With thirty thousand troops garrisoned there, backed by more than two hundred cannon, it should have been a formidable enough defensive position — and yet, with the arrival of Wanyan Zongbi’s Jurchen vanguard, the ferocity of the first wave of attack still far exceeded anyone’s expectations.

More than a decade had passed since Ning Yi had first introduced the study of natural science, and cannon had first shown their worth during the Jurchen’s first campaign south. In these ten-odd years, the Huaxia Army had been the founder of this study of natural science, and under Ning Yi’s guidance, had built up by far the deepest reserve of technical knowledge. The Wu Dynasty had Jun Wu; the Jurchen had the Great Foundry Institute overseen by Wanyan Xiyin. Both sides pursued research and manufacturing in parallel — but in terms of sheer scale, it was the Jurchen who commanded by far the greatest technical strength.

Over these ten years, the Jurchen had invaded the south three times, carrying off millions of Han Chinese from the Central Plains. Among these captives, the Jurchen treated ordinary Han commoners as slaves and women as livestock, but what they valued most of all were the various craftsmen among the Han. Two hundred years of accumulated wealth had made the Wu Dynasty the most prosperous and advanced region of the Central Plains, and now these craftsmen, carried off to the north, were divided up among the various factions there. Even stripped of the freedom to create, they were more than capable of producing ordinary manufactured goods.

By contrast, though the power of the study of natural science had already been partly proven within the Wu Dynasty, the scholars and Confucian officials still regarded Ning Yi’s act of regicide with deep reservation, dismissing his methods as a minor trick that merely happened to work for the moment. At best, they turned a blind eye to Jun Wu’s efforts to advance this cause — there was certainly no public support for it. With no encouragement from public opinion, and unable to forcibly conscript craftsmen from across the realm for war preparations, Jun Wu, though his research remained more vigorous than the Jin state’s, could never match, in sheer scale, what the Jurchen had amassed through the resources of an entire nation.

The crude technique of hollow explosive shells had already existed within the Huaxia Army for some years, and had naturally been sold onward — these were meant for use in cannon. But Wanyan Xiyin had gone further still. Over these past several years, he had set his craftsmen to precisely controlling the burn rate of fuses, pairing hollow stone shells with fixed-length fuses, bundling them ten to a set, and launching them with longer-ranged trebuchets, rigorously calculating and controlling both the distance and timing of each launch — lighting the fuse before firing, striving for the shell to explode only after it struck the ground. This class of siege projectile came to be known as “Heavenly Maiden Scattering Blossoms.”

The moment he arrived at Tianchang, Zongbi put these shells to use on the battlefield.

After three rounds of test firing to calibrate the range, half of the several hundred trebuchets began hurling “Heavenly Maiden Scattering Blossoms” against the walls. Thousands of stone shells fell all at once — though since the method of controlling the fuses was still far too crude, half of them either burned out in midair or exploded too early. Only about one in seven or eight actually landed on the walls and detonated properly. Even so, the small stone shells carried enough force to wound and fell a great many defenders in the very first moments of the assault.

Severed limbs and mangled bodies scattered everywhere, the stench of blood and gunpowder smoke filling the air all at once. Zongbi stood amid his battle formation, watching the explosions bloom like flowers across the distant walls, smoke and screams enveloping the entire fortification.

The fierce corners of his eyes eased slightly, just for a moment.

Among Aguda’s sons, the fourth in line — also known as Wuzhu — Wanyan Zongbi, was the most fierce and aggressive of them all. He had been young when he first took the field, at a time when the Jurchen had all but annihilated the entire Liao state. Wuzhu had courage and daring in abundance, but was lacking in strategy, and in the eyes of the seasoned old generals who had spent their whole lives campaigning across the realm, he had seemed nothing more than an ordinary prince.

But Wuzhu had never been content to remain an ordinary prince. After his second-eldest brother, Zongwang, passed away, his third-eldest brother, Zongfu, proved too cautious and mild-tempered to uphold the majesty of Aguda’s line, unable to stand against Zonghan and Xiyin, who together held sway over the “Western Court.” Wuzhu, who had always looked up to Zongwang as his model, stepped forward without hesitation to fill the gap.

In the more than ten years of the Jurchen campaign against the Wu Dynasty, none had been more eager than Wuzhu. He had inherited the Wanyan clan’s fierce daring, always the first into battle, and by the time of the third southern campaign, he had already become the dominant figure among the imperial clan. Throughout the entire “Search the Mountains, Comb the Seas” campaign, Wuzhu had cut a swathe south of the Yangtze with almost no one able to match him in single combat — the only exception being Zhou Yong, who had fled out to sea and refused to return. At that time, the Jurchen could still strike south of the river but could not hold what they took, and Wuzhu had been forced to withdraw his troops north. It was during this withdrawal that he had suffered a minor setback at Huangtiandang, trapped there for over forty days before finally breaking free.

But who among commanders ever wins every single battle? The Jurchen had long experience of war, and even men like Aguda, Wuqimai, Zonghan, and Zongwang had suffered occasional minor setbacks — no one thought much of Huangtiandang at the time. Only the people of the Wu Dynasty had grown ecstatic over it, and in the years since, they had never tired of proclaiming Huangtiandang a great victory, proof that the Jurchen were not invincible after all. As word of this spread on and on, eventually reaching the north, those who knew the truth of the matter could only laugh bitterly — and for Zongbi himself, it had become something of a sore point.

Great victory, my mother’s foot! Trapped for over forty days and barely losing any men, and in the end it was he himself who used fire to break out and chased Han Shizhong for over seventy li — and these shameless southerners dared to call that a great victory!

That was, in truth, exactly how Zongbi felt about it. But there was no stopping the Wu Dynasty’s boasting. And so by the time of this fourth southern campaign, he had been carrying a simmering rage in his chest — and at the battle of Tianchang, it finally erupted. It so happened that this very Xie Yuan was also a vanguard general under Han Shizhong, and even now, with the great Jurchen army bearing down on him, he was still busy trumpeting the supposed “victory” of Huangtiandang against Zongbi’s own forces. Wuzhu’s temper, upon hearing it, could no longer be contained.

In his heart, whether it was this Xie Yuan or Han Shizhong facing him across the field, both were nothing more than dogs and chickens to be swept aside. This time, he meant to crush this rabble with the greatest possible speed, using it to strike terror into the nearly million-strong Wu Dynasty forces gathered across the south, and to seize the decisive advantage from the very start.

The cannon fire had pounded the walls through three full rounds — already more than four thousand stone shells had been expended against this small city, joined by the impact of countless solid stone boulders as well, until it seemed as though the entire city and the earth beneath it trembled. Astride his horse, Zongbi raised the command banner and gave the order to attack.

Amid the swirling gunpowder smoke, the Jurchen banners began advancing toward the walls.

This fourth Jurchen campaign against the Wu Dynasty was a war that would decide the very fate of the Jin state. The rising figures of this age, still riding the crest of their seemingly unstoppable might, threw themselves against the land of the Wu Dynasty. Moments later, cannon fire rang out from atop the walls as Xie Yuan led his men up to the battlements to return fire.

On the second day after the battle of Tianchang began, under the ferocity of the Jurchen assault, Xie Yuan led his troops in abandoning the city and retreating south. Wuzhu ordered his cavalry to give chase. Han Shizhong led his own forces out from Yangzhou to relieve Xie Yuan and bring him safely into the city, a brutal clash breaking out along the way. On the twenty-seventh of June, Sun Peizhi, a former puppet-Qi general, led a hundred thousand men to besiege Gaoyou. North of the Yangtze, the flames of fierce warfare began spreading across the vast expanse of land.

On that same day, the twenty-seventh of June, as Sun Peizhi laid siege to Gaoyou, more than a thousand li to the north, at the Liangshan Marsh, an army of over one hundred thousand also launched its assault — marking the beginning of what would become the long, grueling defense of Liangshan.

More than thirteen hundred li west of Yangzhou, the Jurchen general Ali Gua, who had previously held Bianliang, led twenty thousand elite troops to Nanyang, preparing to combine forces with the more than one hundred thousand Han Chinese troops already stationed at Nanyang, Dengzhou, and Xinye, and press on toward Xiangyang. This was an order issued by Wanyan Xiyin to coordinate with the eastern army’s offensive, and by this time, the main force of the western army under Zonghan had already crossed the Yellow River and was approaching Bianliang, while Xiyin’s own vanguard of sixty thousand men was drawing steadily closer to Nanyang as well.

And on the very same day that Ali Gua’s army reached Nanyang, Yue Fei led the Beiwei Army out of Xiangyang of his own initiative, launching a fierce assault on Dengzhou. That night, the defenders of Dengzhou sent an urgent call for reinforcements to the north, and Ali Gua led his troops to relieve the siege. On the twenty-ninth of June, twenty thousand Jurchen elite troops, including nine thousand heavy cavalry, made contact with Yue Fei’s Beiwei Army, which had been lying in wait to besiege the city and ambush any relief force, twenty li north of Dengzhou.

The bleak chill of autumn was drawing near. Across a vast stretch of land spanning thousands of li — the south of the Yangtze, the Central Plains — the flames of war continued to spread.

At the same time, the north was far from peaceful.

Yunzhong Prefecture, seat of the Jin state’s Western Court. As the season turned from summer to autumn, the fiercest heat of the year was finally coming to an end.

A massacre that few had yet noticed was quietly brewing in the shadows.

At the Gaoyue Teahouse, Zou Wenhu, a Liaodong Han Chinese dressed in fine silks, climbed the stairs and met with the person he had arranged to see, in the private room at the very end of the second floor.

The one he had come to meet was a woman, plainly dressed but with a defiant look in her eyes, and a tear-shaped scar beside her left eye. Her surname was Xiao — the same Xiao as the Liao Dynasty’s “Empress Dowager Xiao.” She was Xiao Shuqing, known as the “Red Maiden,” one of the most notorious bandits in the region of Yunzhong.

After the fall of the Liao state, the Jin state had, for a time, suppressed and enslaved the Khitan people, carrying out several massacres. But the Khitan were a fierce and stubborn people, and the Jin could hardly hope to govern so vast a territory through slaughter alone — before long, they had turned to conciliatory measures instead, especially once they found other peoples better suited for enslavement. More than a decade after the fall of Liao, some Khitan had already risen into the upper ranks of the Jin court, and the common Khitan people had, by and large, come to accept the reality of Jurchen rule. But even so, among the vast majority who had accepted their lot, there remained a small minority of Khitan who still stood in defiance — some unwilling to extricate themselves from resistance, some simply unable to.

Xiao Shuqing was a descendant of the former Liao Empress Dowager Xiao’s own clan. In her youth, the Jin had killed her husband, and she herself had later suffered abuse and violation, before finally being rescued by the surviving remnants of Khitan resistance. She had taken to banditry, and gradually built a name for herself. Compared to the Han Chinese, who found it difficult to move freely in the north, there remained no shortage of former Liao subjects who still longed for the old days, even after the fall of their state — and it was largely for this reason that Xiao Shuqing and her followers had managed to remain active in the region around Yunzhong for so long without being wiped out. Some even suspected they were still being sheltered by certain high-ranking Khitan officials currently serving in the Jin court.

Seeing Zou Wenhu approach, this ruthless and merciless female bandit chief regarded him with a cold expression. “Well? Has that young master of yours made up his mind yet?”

“My master is… somewhat inclined.” Zou Wenhu pulled up a chair and sat down. “But this involves a great deal. Has he considered the consequences? Has he considered that it’s entirely possible the whole court above might be shaken by it?”

A flicker of contempt crossed Xiao Shuqing’s eyes. “Hmph. Coward. Your master is one, and so are you.”

“Now, now, Consort Xiao, no need for that. Business is business — there’s no call to drag a man’s reputation through the mud. All these years, no one’s ever called me Zou a coward. But don’t try to provoke me either — I’m no fool.” The Xiao clan had once ruled as empresses over the realm, and after Xiao Shuqing made a name for herself, people had gradually taken to addressing her as “Consort Xiao” as well. Facing her contempt, Zou Wenhu merely scratched his nose, unbothered.

“I know you’re no coward. But you’re poor.”

“Look at you, Consort Xiao.” Zou Wenhu looked at her, and after a moment, laughed. “…Right to the point, as always.”

“Enough flattery.” Xiao Shuqing shot him a sideways glance. “I told you all this before — the Qi family’s been making such a show of themselves in Jurchen territory, all this talk of their ‘century-old scholarly household.’ None of these Jurchen give a damn about them, honestly. There’s no harm in playing along, watching them meet their bad luck — that’s no great matter. And besides, the Qi family’s built up a hundred years of wealth back in the Wu Dynasty, and now the whole family’s moved north — who wouldn’t be jealous of that? Your young master, when it comes down to it, is the descendant of a duke — pity his father, the duke, left him nothing, and he can’t fight a battle to save his life. This time, the men with real backbone have all gone south, and when the rewards for merit get handed out, a whole new crop of men will rise up. Your master, and you, Zou Wenhu — you’ll both be pushed aside for good…”

As she spoke, she toyed with her fingers. “This whole affair will benefit everyone involved. And honestly, striking at the Qi family is no small risk for my people who are risking their necks for this. Your master’s status as a duke’s heir — no one’s expecting you to actually deliver the goods yourself, and no one’s going to let you take the fall for it either. And even if something does go wrong, can’t he shoulder it? Once the fighting down south is over, there won’t be any more wars to fight! Your master, and you — with a household full of children — do you really want to watch them all grow up scraping by in shame?”

Listening to her, Zou Wenhu’s smile remained, though it gradually took on a harder edge. Xiao Shuqing licked her lips. “Alright, enough talk. This affair is a big one, and the Qi family is a big target — more than I can swallow alone, more than the two of us together could swallow, even. Plenty of people have already nodded along. You know the rules — if you can nod on your master’s behalf, I’ll pass along what I can to you, to keep your mind at ease. What I can’t pass along, that’s for your own protection. Of course, if you shake your head, then this ends here… and none of it leaves this room.”

At these last words, a genuinely dangerous glint flashed in Xiao Shuqing’s eyes. Zou Wenhu tilted his head, studying his own fingers, weighing his words. “This is a big affair. Are you certain everyone involved is trustworthy?”

“Trustworthy? That depends how you mean it.” Xiao Shuqing smiled. “Either way, if you nod, I’ll give you a few names — I promise you, all men of standing. And like I said, if something happens to the Qi family, everyone will only be glad of it. As for afterward — even if it does come out, can’t your young master shoulder it? By then, the Qi family will already be gone, and every hungry wolf in Yunzhong will be pouncing on the scraps. If anyone gets caught and has to be handed over for punishment, it’ll be one of us desperate outlaws who takes the fall… Zou Wenhu, they say the older a man gets in this business, the more timid he becomes. Seeing you like this, I’m almost starting to regret asking you here.”

The other side fell quiet for a moment, then laughed. “Fine, alright… honestly, Consort Xiao, you’ve probably already guessed — if I came to meet you today, it’s because my master already nodded before I ever left the house. I’m the one handling it…” He spread his hands. “I can’t help being careful. You’re right — even if something does go wrong, what does my master have to fear? But can my master really protect me?”

“Alright, I understand Master Zou’s difficulty.” At this, Xiao Shuqing finally smiled. “You and I are both desperate men in the end. Let’s look out for each other going forward. Master Zou knows the trade well — you’ve got connections everywhere in Yunzhong. Honestly, there’s a great deal in all this that I’ll need to consult Master Zou on.”

Zou Wenhu smiled as well.

“Happy to lend what small effort I can… And honestly, it’s the Qi family’s own fault, being so showy — offending a whole crowd of wealthy young men, offending a poor wretch like me, offending a rebel like you, Consort Xiao, and offending that reckless Black Banner gang too. If he’s not the one to die, who is? Either way, he’s going to die, and his fortune has to go to someone — might as well go to you and me. Practically an act of charity, hahaha…”

The two of them laughed together in the room, and after a moment, one more line slipped out.

“Oh, right — and as for who actually does the deed, it’ll be that reckless Black Banner gang, won’t it? They’ve already dared to kill the emperor down south — I don’t imagine they’ll mind taking the blame for this too. Isn’t that right, Consort Xiao? Hahaha…”

Autumn had come…

In a relatively quiet courtyard, in a shabby little room, Tang Minjie sat in a chair, looking at the crumpled letter in his hands. Across the table sat a man dressed in rags like a beggar — the Huaxia Army contact who now met with Tang Minjie in Lu Mingfang’s place.

The letter was written in code, and decoding it took some time. Tang Minjie read it through once, his brow furrowing, before slowly tearing it to pieces.

“The fighting in the south has already begun. Jin Wuzhu is attacking Yangzhou ferociously… What’s most surprising right now is the siege equipment he’s using. Hollow stone shells, ten to a bundle, launched over the walls by trebuchet, pounding down on the battlements — considerable force behind it. The Jin side had been mass-producing stone shells before this, and we assumed they were meant for landmines or some other purpose. We also thought their control over delayed detonation still wasn’t good enough. We didn’t expect they’d more or less solved the problem on their end. That’s an oversight on our part.”

The man across from him nodded. “At least the trebuchets aren’t easy to assemble — they’re only suited to siege warfare.”

Tang Minjie shook his head. “If Zongbi had used this on the assault on Xuzhou, caught us off guard, a lot of our men would have been hurt too. Of course, he spent the entire winter regrouping north of Xuzhou, building hundreds, maybe over a thousand trebuchets — that was enough for the job, which is why General Liu’s forces weren’t chosen as the primary target…”

His gaze moved, thinking it through. “Right, so — one, the delayed fuse; two, the timing on the trebuchet launch has to be extremely precise. The trebuchets can’t have been assembled in a hurry. And even with ten shells launched per machine, it’s anyone’s guess whether even one or two of them actually land on the wall and detonate properly. Just the battle at Tianchang alone probably used up around five thousand rounds. Neither Zongbi in the east nor Zonghan in the west can keep fighting like this indefinitely. We need to investigate and estimate just how many of these stone shells Xiyin has secretly produced over these past years. It would help the people in the south to have some idea of the numbers.”

“Right, I’ll see what I can find out about the figures from the Great Foundry Institute. As for how many of these shells the entire Jin state has produced over the years — that might be difficult to pin down precisely… I suspect even Wanyan Xiyin himself might not have an exact count.”

“A rough number will do. Also, there’s something strange about this — that person close to Xiyin never leaked a hint of this beforehand. Xiyin’s kept this remarkably well hidden this time. The assembly of the shell components must have been done somewhere else entirely… either that person has turned against us, or…”

“That lady turning traitor — that doesn’t seem likely, does it?”

“I don’t think it’s likely either.” Tang Minjie nodded, his eyes moving. “Which means she was kept entirely in the dark by Xiyin as well — which is interesting in its own right. To catch someone off guard when they’re paying attention takes real deception — that lady shouldn’t have missed something this important… Did Xiyin know about this from the start? How deep does his awareness go? Are we still safe on our end?”

Tang Minjie glanced at his companion across the table, who also looked taken aback for a moment. “Our contact with that lady isn’t especially close. If… I mean, if she’s been exposed, we shouldn’t be dragged into it…”

He said this without much certainty himself, and Tang Minjie’s face took on a thoughtful smile. “Never mind. Stay alert from now on regardless. Either way, it’s unlikely that lady has turned traitor — once she gets word of the battle reports from Yangzhou, she’ll probably be more anxious than we are… These past years, the Wu Dynasty has been trumpeting Huangtiandang as a defeat of Wuzhu everywhere, and now Wuzhu’s attacking Yangzhou with pent-up fury — I doubt Han Shizhong can hold out against it. With Old Lu gone, we need to find a way to meet with that lady in the next few days, and feel out where she stands…”

The man across from him nodded, and Tang Minjie went on. “Also, this incident needs a proper review. Something this straightforward — if it had landed on Xuzhou’s walls instead of Yangzhou’s, we’d all bear responsibility for it.”

“Understood.”

“Anything else, then?”

“The brothers Wanyan Chang sent up from the south — word is they’ll arrive in the next couple of days…”

“I know about that already. You go confirm the details on the shells.”

Tang Minjie nodded and said no more. The man across from him nodded as well, and likewise fell silent.

This meeting came to an end there. Tang Minjie left the room, and the sunlight in the courtyard blazed fiercely — it was the afternoon of the fourth of July. The news from the south had come by urgent dispatch, and though the request from the north had focused mainly on that “Heavenly Maiden Scattering Blossoms” business, the full picture of the south now engulfed in war still took clear shape in Tang Minjie’s mind.

The failure weighed on him with a certain resentment. Reflecting on it in his head, he realized that over the past year in Yunzhong, so absorbed in plotting acts of sabotage, he had paid too little attention to matters right under his own nose. It was something to guard against from here on.

He stood in the courtyard for a moment, and once his companion had left, he too stepped out, heading toward the chaotic crowds of the marketplace at the other end of the road.

Before him lay one of the mixed, chaotic slum districts within Yunzhong Prefecture. Past the market and one more street beyond lay Qingying Ward, where every manner of person, high and low, gathered. In the early afternoon, Lu Mingfang drove a large cart down the street, glancing once toward Qingying Ward as he passed.

He did not go in.

In a teahouse serving as cover within Qingying Ward, Mandu Dalu, one of the chief constables of Yunzhong Prefecture, sat with his hat brim pulled down slightly, sipping tea with an air of idle ease. His deputy came over from across the way and sat down at the table.

“Something’s off. The word on the street isn’t right,” the deputy said. “This morning, someone spotted ‘Dog-Eater’ Long Jiuyuan. Over by the south of the city, near Yegai, someone’s been borrowing passage through there.”

Mandu Dalu held his teacup, murmuring to himself. “Is there something big happening in the city lately?”

“The Black Banner Army being escorted into the city?”

“That business with the Black Banner Army — they’re not allowed into the city. We already told the Qi family, if anything needs handling, it has to be handled outside the walls. If something really does happen, by rights it should happen outside the walls too. This word going around inside the city — is someone trying to stir up trouble in the confusion, or is it a deliberate lure…”

“Could be both, couldn’t it?”

“And the Qi family?”

“Still hosting banquets these past couple of days, throwing their doors open. Looks like they’re trying to gather a crowd of young nobles together.”

“But the city guard hasn’t made a move.” Mandu Dalu smiled. “Strange.”

The afternoon sun was still dazzling, and even as Mandu Dalu sensed something uncanny in the air on the street, a gathering was already underway in Qingying Ward. Among those present were Xiao Shuqing and Zou Wenhu, who had held their earlier discussion; “Dog-Eater” Long Jiuyuan, the most lawless and notorious figure in the Yunzhong underworld; and several other desperate outlaws already on the government’s wanted lists.

Off to one side of the group stood a pale, gaunt young nobleman — a Jurchen aristocrat. Introduced by Zou Wenhu, this young man stood among the crowd and exchanged greetings with the assembled outlaws, none of whom looked the least bit friendly.

He was the descendant of a Jurchen duke, named Wanyan Wenqin. His grandfather had been a fierce general who had followed Aguda in the early uprising, though he had died young. With only a single heir in each generation, Wanyan Wenqin’s family had lived off the legacy his grandfather had left behind — better off than most, perhaps, but looked down upon by the many noble relatives within the city of Yunzhong.

If it had been possible, Wanyan Wenqin would have loved nothing more than to follow the army south and take part in the campaign against the Wu Dynasty. But he had been frail since childhood, and though he believed his spirit was every bit as fierce as his ancestors’, his body could not carry the weight of such fearless resolve. While the southern expedition marched on and the other young nobles spent their days idling away in the city of Yunzhong, Wanyan Wenqin’s own life had grown unbearably stifling.

Faced now with this band of desperate outlaws, men who bore deep grudges against the Jin court, he showed no fear at all — if anything, an excited flush had risen to his cheeks. He cupped his hands in greeting, neither servile nor arrogant, and addressed each of them by name, one by one, drawing a flicker of genuine surprise from the group, before laying out his reasons for supporting their plan.

“…The Qi family are arrogant and shallow. That old patriarch of theirs — his son was killed by men of the Black Banner Army, so he went and requested more than ten Black Banner prisoners from Wanyan Chang. The prisoners arrive tomorrow, but they won’t be held in the city — they’ll be kept at the Qi family’s country estate at Xinzhuang, south of the city. That old man doesn’t just want to kill these prisoners — he means to use them as bait to draw out Black Banner spies hiding in Yunzhong. He truly does bear a deep, personal grudge against the Black Banner Army.”

Wanyan Wenqin drew a deep breath as he spoke. “Because of this, everyone’s attention is fixed on the estate outside the city. As for inside the city — it’s not that no one’s paying attention, it’s just… hah, no one much cares if something happens to the Qi family. If we’re going to strike at them, we don’t need to do it outside the walls — we can do it right in the city. Seize Qi Yan, his three sons, five grandsons, and four great-grandsons, and carry them out of the city… as long as we’re careful about it, it won’t cause much of a stir.”

He paused. “The Qi family has no shortage of wealth — a great many precious treasures, some kept in the city, but plenty more that the old man has hidden away in various places across the realm… The Han place the greatest value on bloodline. Once we have Qi Yan and his line in hand, if the rest of you handle them properly, the old man will surely tell us everything he has. Whatever you’re able to get out of him, you’re free to go and claim it by whatever means you have — I’ll help you move it, whatever the rest of you agree on. Of course, all of you are seasoned in this trade and already have your own methods. As for what’s here in Yunzhong Prefecture, if you can carry it off on the spot, take it on the spot. If not, I have ways of handling it on my end. What do the rest of you think?”

“If something happens inside the city, we might have a hard time getting out,” Long Jiuyuan said darkly from the front.

Wanyan Wenqin merely laughed. “There’s no need to deceive me, gentlemen — this isn’t your first time coming and going from Yunzhong, and you must have your own ways of keeping yourselves safe, or you’d never have dared come to this gathering at all — you’d already be dead…”

His words carried an edge, and a flash of menace crossed the faces around him, but Wanyan Wenqin showed no fear whatsoever. “Second, I understand perfectly well that there’s risk in this — any other assurance I offer would be hard for you to trust. But I, Wanyan Wenqin, have only this one worthless life, and I’m willing to stake it alongside all of you. Tomorrow, when this is carried out, I’ll go to the Qi household banquet first. Once you’ve confirmed I’m inside, then move — take me as your hostage. If I’ve deceived any of you, you’re free to kill me at any time. And even if something does go wrong, with me and a whole crowd of noble sons as hostages, what is there to fear? You couldn’t get out? Shall I lead you out myself, cutting a path through?”

As Wanyan Wenqin said this, his face broke into a contemptuous, almost manic smile. The Wanyan clan had once swept across the realm, and a fierce, imperious bearing had always run in their blood. Though Wanyan Wenqin had been frail since childhood, he had watched the edge of his ancestors’ spirit all his life, and now, this fearless bearing rising within him took the whole group by surprise, and won their genuine respect.

Indeed, no matter what assurances were offered for a plan like this, it was always hard for the group to fully trust one another — but with someone of his standing willing to stake his own life on it outright, there was really nothing left to say. Once the safeguards had been laid this far, the rest was simply a matter of seeking fortune amid danger, as the saying went. Even the most defiant and unruly of the outlaws present could not help offering Wanyan Wenqin a few words of flattery, and looked upon him with new respect.

They then discussed the steps for the following day in more detail, and Wanyan Wenqin revealed a certain amount of information of his own — though the affair looked, on the surface, like something Xiao Shuqing had arranged through Zou Wenhu, Wanyan Wenqin’s side had already gathered a considerable amount of intelligence of their own, such as the situation of the Qi family’s household guards, which of them could be bribed. Xiao Shuqing and her people, meanwhile, had already gathered information on the families of the household stewards and guards within the Qi residence, and had even made preparations to seize some of their family members as leverage. After a brief exchange, they had also gained a fairly clear understanding of where much of the Qi household’s precious treasures were stored. And according to Wanyan Wenqin, once the operation began, with the Black Banner prisoners already brought to Yunzhong, unrest would naturally break out outside the city, and the city guard’s full attention would be fixed there — any minor disturbance from the Qi family inside the city would simply be overlooked.

Hearing this, the group understood well enough that Wanyan Wenqin had already tied a number of other people into this affair — no wonder he was so eager to swallow the entirety of the Qi family’s hoarded treasures within Yunzhong Prefecture in one go.

No one pressed further into these particulars. If it had only been this band of desperate outlaws, dividing up the Qi family’s wealth would have been beyond their means — but with these powerful Jurchen figures above them also wanting the Qi family brought down, taking a share of the scraps for themselves was more than good enough.

With the plan settled, the group exchanged parting words and dispersed, laughing and joking among themselves. But as they left, more than a few of them glanced, more or less deliberately, toward one wall at the side of the room, though none of them said anything further about it. Once they had all gone, Wanyan Wenqin waved Zou Wenhu out as well, then walked over and pushed open a hidden door.

Inside the room sat three Jurchen men. Judging by their appearance, even the eldest among them could not have been much past forty. As Wanyan Wenqin entered, all three regarded him with newfound respect. “We never would have guessed it — Wenqin looks so delicate, and yet has such resolve.”

“My grandfather once swept across the realm, staking his life to carve out his future, and I’ve admired that since I was a child. It’s just a pity… heaven never gave me the chance to fight on a battlefield of my own. This southern campaign will settle the realm for good. I may not have the wealth and standing the rest of you gentlemen have, but I still have several dozen mouths to feed, and there will only be more in the future. My own life means little enough, but I won’t let this family fall apart on my watch. The world is a cruel place, where the strong devour the weak. The Qi family is a good piece of business. I’m staking my life on it — do any of you gentlemen have objections?”

He wore something between a smile and no smile at all, his face utterly without fear. The three men exchanged glances, and the eldest among them poured two cups of tea, one for himself and one for his guest, and then all four raised their cups. “Done.”

They all drank. With the matter settled, Wanyan Wenqin smiled again. “Actually, I’ve been thinking — surely you gentlemen wouldn’t be satisfied with just this one score from the Qi family?”

The three men looked faintly startled. “Wenqin surely isn’t thinking of striking at that band of reckless outlaws themselves?”

“Killing and killing, back and forth, across the realm — there’s no meaning in it. It’s too small a vision.” Wanyan Wenqin shook his head. “In the court and the army, you gentlemen are great figures. But among the common folk, there are heroes too. As I said — after this southern campaign, the realm will be settled for good, and the situation in Yunzhong Prefecture will gradually settle as well. By then, you gentlemen will be the white path, and they the black — but the white path and the black don’t always have to be at war. If the two joined hands, that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing at all… gentlemen, it might be worth considering…”

The three exchanged glances. Wanyan Wenqin clasped his hands together, his voice taking on a persuasive edge. “In the past, men from such different worlds as these would never have come together — and even if they did, it would rarely last. But this is a good opportunity. If this deal goes well, in the future, we could bring all these figures together under one roof — every outlaw of standing in Yunzhong Prefecture’s underworld, all working with us. With the three of you gentlemen’s connections, and no obstacles from the underworld side, is there anything we couldn’t profit from? I’ve heard that among the outlaw circles of the Wu Dynasty, there’s something called an ‘Alliance Leader of the Martial World’ — where there’s an alliance leader, there must be an alliance… heh. In this world, the thing to fear is an alliance. Once people band together, it’s an entirely different matter from a disorganized mob…”

“The thing to fear in this world is an alliance?” The eldest of the three studied Wanyan Wenqin. “I never expected someone so young to have such insight. This is an interesting proposition.”

He glanced at the other two. “As for this matter of an alliance — shall we discuss it further?”

Everyone knew the resolve and ambition with which the Jurchen had launched this southern campaign, carrying the banner of the Wu Dynasty’s total destruction. Once the realm was settled, opportunities to rise through military merit would grow scarcer and scarcer, and those left behind in the north felt this sense of anxious foreboding all the more keenly. Wanyan Wenqin’s persuasive words had struck a real spark of hope in the group, and they went on discussing the matter further.

By the time they had all exchanged farewells and departed, Wanyan Wenqin’s body swayed faintly, visibly weakened — yet the flush on his face had only deepened, evidence of the tremendous excitement this day’s affairs had stirred within him.

Born into a ducal household, Wanyan Wenqin had carried lofty ambitions since childhood, only to have his frail body and his grandfather’s early death stand in the way of them. Never satisfied since his youth, his heart had long been filled with resentment — until, a little over a year ago, an opportunity to change all of that had suddenly presented itself…