September, the season of splendid autumn colors. Across the land of the Three Xiang, the mountains rose and fell in gentle waves, green, yellow, and red leaves mingling together. Rivers wound between the hills, and along their banks lay harvested farmland and small villages scattered here and there.

Deep among the grass and trees of the mountains, figures gathered faintly in the shadows. In a gully carved by rainwater, littered with broken stone, nine silhouettes had gathered together. Qu Qing, at their head, arranged a few small stones on the ground beside a simple sketch scratched in the dirt, his voice low.

“…The news is confirmed. Chasing us, there are a little over a thousand men in total, and coming up from the Pingjiang direction ahead, another one or two thousand. Looks like Liu Qusheng and Yu Daya have both made their choice. We can retreat west or south, but they’re the local powers here—if we run into them head-on, we’ll be at a disadvantage. So we take out Liu Qusheng’s side first, then leave.”

“…Liu Qusheng’s thousand-plus men have more than sixty fast horses out front, led by a man named Wang Wujiang—said to be a capable fighter. Two years ago he led his men against the bandits at Lu Wang Stronghold, fighting at the front himself, and his men are loyal to him because of it… This time it’s more or less the usual pattern. Their column will come through from that side; the mountain road narrows there, and once they’re past, they won’t be visible from behind. Up front, we hit first with cannon fire targeting their vitals. Li Ji, your squad hits the rear section, make some noise. Zuo Heng, you’re on standby to support.”

“…They’re locals, so a thousand-plus of them chasing our two hundred without falling out of formation—that’s already cautious enough of them… Once the fighting starts, they won’t be able to see past the bend in the road. Wang Wujiang will have two choices: fall back to reinforce, or hold position and wait. If he holds and doesn’t move, Li Ji and Zuo Heng, you two do your best to wipe out the rear section, push everyone forward. Once Wang Wujiang moves, we strike—me and Zhuo Yongqing will lead the charge, split the cavalry apart, and focus everything on Wang Wujiang.”

“…Cutting them off here is Yu Chen’s job—grenades and crossbows ready. Anyone who tries to charge in to save them, knock them senseless.”

As his low, rapid instructions continued, Qu Qing finished laying out the plan. A few squad and platoon leaders nodded simply, took their orders, and departed. Qu Qing raised his binoculars, scanning the surrounding hills, still murmuring under his breath.

“…Wang Wujiang’s aim is pursuit, so his speed won’t be too slow. He’ll send out scouts, but there’s a good chance they’ll miss us here. Even if they don’t, Li Suwen’s team is up in the hills to intercept—if we can kill on the spot, Wang Wujiang won’t have time to react. Brother Zhuo, switch hats.”

As he spoke, he untied the small bundle at his side and tossed it aside; Zhuo Yongqing caught it and tossed his own bundle back to Qu Qing. Each bundle held a single helmet.

The bundle now in Qu Qing’s hands held a hat with a tuft of crimson horsehair on top—the distinctive marker that Zhuo Yongqing’s unit had carried ever since leaving Chengdu. Whenever they were negotiating or dealing with outsiders, Zhuo Yongqing wore this red-plumed tall crown and draped a blood-red cape over his shoulders, claiming to the outside world that it was a trophy taken from the slaying of Loushi—an especially arrogant display.

But when ambushed en route, or when acting as bait, Zhuo Yongqing and Qu Qing would take turns wearing that hat. In the nine months since leaving Chengdu, their unit had been attacked many times and had suffered no shortage of losses, but the two of them, by sheer luck, had managed to survive. At this moment, Zhuo Yongqing still bore wounds that had not fully healed.

He opened the bundle Qu Qing had thrown him and put on the protective steel helmet, shaking out his neck. Over these more than nine months, although a hidden unit had continued to shadow and protect them all along, everyone in the group, Zhuo Yongqing included, had grown weathered and hardened, an edge of ruthlessness about them all now.

“Fine. You lure Wang Wujiang over, and I’ll kill him with my own hands… Damn that Liu Qusheng, all smiles to my face and then sending men after us the moment my back’s turned. A traitor to his own people—I’ll remember this…”

The enemy had not yet arrived, so Qu Qing did not yet pull out the red-plumed helmet, only saying quietly, “The last two times we negotiated, the ones who turned on us on the spot all died in mysterious ways. Liu Qusheng must have guessed we had people lying in ambush nearby, so he waited until we’d left and our hidden backup had also pulled out before sending men to chase us—internally, he’s probably already begun purging his own ranks… And don’t underestimate Wang Wujiang either. He used to run a martial arts school, called himself the First Blade of Northern Hunan. Skilled fighter, tricky one.”

“Oh…” Zhuo Yongqing thought it over. “First Blade of Northern Hunan, quite a title… How does he compare to old Liu Dabiao back in the day? How about compared to Mr. Ning?”

“Er, it’s precisely because the Overlord Blade Manor is in Miao territory that no one in this circle of outlaws has dared call themselves First Blade of Hunan and Hubei in decades. But compared to Mr. Ning…” Something seemed to cross Qu Qing’s mind, and a complicated look flashed across his face for an instant before he caught himself and said with certainty, “well, of course he can’t compare either.”

“I knew it…” Zhuo Yongqing nodded confidently. The two of them hid there in the gully, shielded further by the bushes and trees behind them. After a moment, Zhuo Yongqing’s serious expression broke apart and he couldn’t help bursting into muffled laughter; Qu Qing laughed almost at the same instant, and the two of them chuckled quietly together for a good while.

“When we get back I’m going to tell Mr. Ning about this,” said Qu Qing.

“Heh heh…”

“…And then he’ll land one of his Heaven-Overturning Seal strikes right on your face, and you’ll learn what happens when you mock your superiors—you’ll end up like Lu Tuo…”

“Ha ha, cough cough…”

Zhuo Yongqing finally couldn’t hold it in, his head knocking against the dirt, clutching his stomach as he shook with laughter for a good while. The habit among Ning Yi’s men of joking that he fancied himself some kind of martial arts master was only known among a small circle within the Huaxia Army—a peculiar bit of “leadership trivia” that only the higher-ups could really appreciate. Every time they brought it up with each other, it helped relieve the pressure a little. And in truth, now that Mr. Ning was one of the foremost figures in the entire realm, Qu Qing and Zhuo Yongqing, teasing him with these little jokes, felt a certain pride swell in their own chests too.

In the afternoon, as the sunlight slanted lower, on the road beneath the hills, the pursuing force kicked up dust, curving around toward them. Ahead came the armed cavalry; in the middle and rear came the infantry, who had already lost some of their formation in the chase. In the bushes and thickets on the hillside, the veteran Huaxia Army soldiers, long accustomed to every manner of combat, could already roughly judge the caliber of the enemy at a glance.

Past the screening bushes, Qu Qing raised his right hand and silently curled his fingers.

Three.

Two.

One—

The cannon fire roared out.

Zhuo Yongqing wiped the yellow dust from his cheek, his gaze having gone completely calm. He pressed down on the hilt of his blade.

On the mountain road, the sky filled with the light of spilling blood—

At the northwest end of Dongting Lake, near the outskirts of Huarong County, a grand procession moved along the mountain road. The camp came into view up ahead. Liu Guangshi lifted the curtain of his carriage, his gaze deep and thoughtful as he looked toward the Wu Dynasty banners fluttering over the encampment.

Before long, the column reached the camp. The waiting officer came out to meet them and led Liu Guangshi and his party into the main tent. The general stationed here, Nie Chao, commanded over forty thousand crack troops, and under Liu Guangshi’s orders had held this region for over two months now.

Passing east through Huarong, one entered the Dongting Lake region. Liu Guangshi now commanded over three hundred thousand men, firmly holding the region north of Dongting Lake, though the areas south of the lake, such as Yueyang, were still contested by various sides. Changsha further south was now held by Chen Fan; unless the Jurchens came, it seemed no one else could drive him out.

The vast waters of Dongting Lake formed the rear base Liu Guangshi had been building up. Should the Wu Dynasty collapse entirely and the front lines become unholdable, Liu Guangshi’s main force could retreat into the lake region and hold out there for a good while. Since occupying Huarong, Nie Chao had invited Liu Guangshi several times to come inspect. Liu Guangshi had been occupied managing the front, and only now, having finally finished his preparations to face Nianhan in the north, had made his way over.

Retreating south from Xiangfan, spreading his army out as thinly as possible north of Dongting Lake, he had used every ounce of effort to preserve as much of the autumn harvest as he could. Over these past months, Liu Guangshi had been running back and forth constantly; his hair had turned almost entirely white, and his face bore signs of fatigue. After holding a briefing and offering words of encouragement to Nie Chao’s officers, once everyone had withdrawn, Nie Chao brought out the various account ledgers for Liu Guangshi to review. Liu Guangshi looked them over under Nie Chao’s watchful eye.

At one point, he propped his head in his hand and said quietly, “Wenkai, have you ever thought about what’s coming next?”

Nie Chao, courtesy name Wenkai, hearing the question from his commanding officer, cupped his hands. “We men of arms have only death for our country.”

“Mm.” Liu Guangshi nodded. “That’s why you were thinking of taking men and marching to rescue the Crown Prince at Jiangning.”

Nie Chao’s hands, still cupped, froze at that. The mood in the tent turned grim. He lowered his head slightly. “General, you see clearly. We of the Wu Dynasty’s army—how could we stand by and watch the Crown Prince trapped in a hopeless siege and do nothing to save him? Since the General already knows, it will be easier to speak plainly…”

“You know you’d all die on the road there?”

“Not I alone marching, not my army alone marching—not only would we die on the road, but as long as enough of us die, we can still save the Crown Prince… We had lost heart before, because… those above us were incompetent, corrupt officials ran the government, and so the realm fell into such decline. But now that we have a crown prince of this caliber, who has held out against the Jurchens for months without a word of surrender, how could we not be willing to die for him?”

“Do you know that the advisor Rong Kuang, who urged you to send troops, has already surrendered to the Jurchens?”

Nie Chao froze for a moment.

Liu Guangshi took a stack of letters from within his robe and pushed them forward. “This is… his correspondence with the Jurchens, colluding with them. Take a look.”

“What happened to Rong Kuang? He said earlier he was going home to bid his mother farewell…”

“Bidding his mother farewell was a lie; meeting his Jurchen contact was the truth. When we went to arrest him, he resisted… and is already dead,” said Liu Guangshi. “But we recovered these letters.”

“Rong Kuang and I have known each other since childhood. If he needed to meet his Jurchen contact, he wouldn’t have needed to leave at all—and if there was already correspondence between them, why would he need the excuse of visiting his mother to take such a risk?”

“Most likely he wanted both to settle his family and, along the way, meet his contact. General Nie, I have the complete investigation documents and records here, precisely because I feared you wouldn’t believe me—I’ve brought them all.”

“How do I know these things aren’t forged?”

“How can you doubt me like this?” The white-haired general looked at him.

Nie Chao looked back. “It’s only… because what Rong Kuang said made sense, that I… wanted to go rescue the emperor.”

“Nonsense.” Liu Guangshi spoke each word deliberately. “You fell for the Jurchens’ scheme.”

The tent fell silent. The two generals’ gazes held each other for a long while. Finally, Nie Chao, holding those letters, let sorrow show in his eyes.

“Allow this humble general to… think it over.”

Liu Guangshi nodded, and only spoke again once Nie Chao had retreated to the tent flap. “General Nie, since I’ve come in person, I haven’t come unprepared. Whatever you decide… please think it through carefully.”

“…Yes.”

Nie Chao slowly withdrew.

The light in the tent brightened for a moment as the flap lifted, then dimmed again as it fell. Liu Guangshi sat quietly, his gaze drifting as he listened to the sounds outside. After a while, someone entered—one of the advisors who had accompanied him.

“How did it go?”

“It seems… General Nie has not yet acted rashly.”

“Good, that’s good…” Liu Guangshi closed his eyes and let out a long breath. The advisor went on, “As long as nothing happens today, it seems General Nie won’t move. In half a month, the General can replace him…”

“Ah…”

The only reply to the advisor was Liu Guangshi’s heavy, weary sigh…

…

In the months since Zhou Yong had fled overseas, there had been almost no peace anywhere in the realm.

Around Changsha and the Dongting Lake region, conflicts and frictions large and small kept erupting, like drops of water falling into a pan of boiling oil, sending it crackling and churning without end.

None of these frictions amounted to large-scale military conflict; rather, they were the endless collisions of a world in upheaval, of hearts pulling in every direction. Those seeking to save themselves, those wandering lost and helpless, those acting with valor and generosity, those simply drifting with the current—under the manipulation and courting of various factions, they gradually began to declare their allegiances, and countless small-scale clashes broke out.

Since July, persuaders for the Huaxia Army had been active, as had persuaders for the Jurchens, persuaders for Liu Guangshi, and those moved of their own accord by loyalty to the Wu Dynasty. Around Changsha, from Tanzhou to Pingjiang, to Miluo, to Xiangyin, to Linxiang, factions large and small had already clashed countless times.

In mid-July, the Pingjiang prefect Rong Ji, having survived two assassination attempts, was frightened into resigning his post and fleeing.

In late July, river-and-mountain bandits near Miluo attacked the county seat under the banner of restoring the Wu Dynasty. At Linxiang, over three hundred members of the so-called Hemp Robe Society took to the streets bearing blades, forcing the local government to declare its allegiance to Liu Guangshi; the garrison suppressed them, and blood flowed through the streets.

In August, the more than seven thousand Wu Dynasty troops garrisoned at Xiangyin, persuaded by Jurchen agents and the former Changsha prefect Niu Baoyuan, declared allegiance to the Jurchens; those who resisted rose up at once, and fighting raged within the city for two full days, burning down nearly half the town. Afterward, the heads of the resisters were hung on the city walls.

Through mid- and late August, similar clashes kept erupting, essentially a fierce manifestation of everyone hoarding and seizing resources around the time of the autumn harvest. Although Chen Fan had taken Changsha, the total forces of the Miao frontier troops had never been large to begin with, and merely holding the city was already stretching them to their limit. Several special-operations units that had withdrawn from Jiangnan remained active there, winning no small number of victories and seizing supplies, as well as persuading and winning over some factions to show goodwill toward the Huaxia Army.

But by early September, the three surrendered Han armies originally stationed in Jiangnan West Circuit, totaling one hundred and forty thousand men, began marching toward Changsha, and the conflicts among the smaller powers around Changsha gradually died down. Those who had declared their allegiance—or who had not formally declared but had effectively surrendered to the Jurchens in substance—grew steadily more numerous.

…

The sun set in the west; smoke from the fighting lingered among the hills, and the smell of blood drifted on the air.

Fleeing soldiers scattered toward the distance, or were driven running across the fields, leaping into a nearby stream and drifting downriver. Across the corpse-strewn battlefield, soldiers reined in their fleeing warhorses; some were counting the wounded and the captured, while others drove spear-tips into the bodies of war-horses left dying by cannon fire.

Zhuo Yongqing, in soft armor and a steel helmet, walked up the hillside carrying a severed head. Qu Qing sat among a pile of corpses, half his body soaked in blood, while an army physician bandaged the wound on his left side.

“Ah, that hurts like hell…” He hissed through gritted teeth, sucking in cold air.

Zhuo Yongqing removed the red-plumed iron crown from his head. “Not dead, that’s what counts. We took some horses—they can carry you.”

“We do need to move fast… what are you carrying that head around for?”

“First Blade of Northern Hunan, thought you’d want to see it.”

“Bad luck…” Qu Qing grimaced, then glanced again at the head. “All right, stop carrying it around everywhere. Even if he was an outlaw, he was still, by past standards, a righteous, heroic man—chivalrous, generous to his neighbors. When we were clearing out mountain bandits, he was brave and bold too. When we went to see Liu Qusheng, Feng Zhen’s people had scouted things out beforehand—at the peak of the trouble, this fellow was actually someone worth trying to win over.”

“So you’re saying, with over a thousand men chasing us down, he might also have let us go.”

“…” Qu Qing glanced at him, then said, “It hurts.”

Naturally, Zhuo Yongqing’s question had no answer. Over these more than nine months, having brushed with death dozens of times, they could hardly afford to gamble their safety on such slim possibilities. Zhuo Yongqing stuck the man’s head on a stick by the roadside, and when he came back over, he found Qu Qing on the ground, calculating the situation in the area nearby.

“Chongyang’s Liu Qusheng, Pingjiang’s Yu Daya—if the two of them have coordinated to surrender to the Jurchens, then this whole stretch links up. A hundred-some li of land, tens of thousands of soldiers and civilians. That Yu Daya—looks like a rough, righteous man from the wilds, but when it came down to it, he did this—he wanted to use you as a token of loyalty, to curry favor with the Jurchens…”

Zhuo Yongqing sat down. “When are Guo Baohuai’s people arriving?”

“Guo Baohuai, fifty thousand men; Yu Gusheng, forty-five thousand; add Li Touhe’s forty-thousand-plus, three directions. Yu Gusheng will arrive first, probably in five to seven days, reaching the Pingjiang area. Just counting the Han troops, that’s a hundred and forty thousand already, plus more arriving steadily, plus more surrendering steadily… and on our side, it’s just the fifteen-thousand-some at Changsha, and this ragtag band of ours…”

Qu Qing, drawing his map in the dirt, paused, looked back, and saw that the small battlefield below had nearly been cleared out. His own wounded had, for the most part, been treated, but the marks of bloody slaughter and the sprawled bodies would not be so easily erased. His words trailed off there; somehow, he found himself almost laughing at the sheer hopeless disparity of the situation he was describing.

“Damn it, how do we even fight this war…” Qu Qing dug up some of the choicest curses from the old command’s private vocabulary.

Zhuo Yongqing sighed too. “Yeah.”

The two of them sat there sighing for a while. Before long, the unit had regrouped and was ready to move out. Qu Qing wiped the map from the dirt with his foot and, with Zhuo Yongqing’s help, struggled up onto his horse.

“…Still five to seven days. Feng Zhen’s probably already scheming something. That beast Yu Daya played us once—let’s go around and see if we can’t find a way to take him out.”

“Whatever you say.”

“You should think for yourself too, you know. Brother Zhuo, I swear you’ve gotten lazier and lazier since we came out here. You weren’t like this back in Zhang Village…”

“Brother Qu, that’s called trust.”

“…Forget it. Next time you wear the red hat, fine, I won’t fight you for it. Even if that head of yours got blown up by a cannon, it wouldn’t be much of a loss to the Huaxia Army anyway.”

“Ha ha ha ha…”

The sun sank below the horizon, and the unit, having just come through slaughter, turned off along the far side of the mountain road in the last silhouette of daylight, Zhuo Yongqing’s already hearty, easy laughter carrying on the evening wind.

Mid-September—this was just one corner of the countless brutal clashes taking place around Changsha. Before long, the first wave of surrendered Han troops, one hundred and forty thousand strong, would arrive here and launch the first assault against Chen Fan’s force of barely ten thousand men.

But not long after that, the true first strike would be launched—by Chen Fan himself.