Summer’s night air took on a leaden blue glow. In a small county town beneath that night sky, flames were rising, human voices in chaos, mingled with the crying of women and children.

A black banner fluttered — but amid the darkness of night, only where the firelight illuminated could people see that banner.

On the shore of Lake Tai, in a small county town north of Pingjiang Prefecture, the population had already dwindled following last year’s military calamities. What was storming in now was a band of refugees calling themselves the Fairness Party. After entering the town, they did not, in fact, launch into wholesale burning and killing — only the homes of a few local gentry and powerful families on the western side of the town suffered.

At this moment, the flames and killing were still ongoing, and another column of men, banners raised high, was approaching from the open fields outside the town. In the night, both sides carried the same banner. The refugees who had seized the town gate exchanged a few shouted words with the newcomers in the darkness, and thereby understood that this column held a fairly high rank within the Fairness Party. They dared not obstruct them, and as the group drew nearer, someone recognized the identity of the gaunt, middle-aged man at the front of the horses. All the refugees near the gate cried out “Lord of Fairness” and knelt down.

“Lord of Fairness” was He Wen. After the exchange, he rode in on horseback, and his own personal troops began taking over defense of the town, while a separate enforcement squad went in and began shouting: “Anyone who harasses innocent civilians — kill! Anyone who loots amid the chaos — kill! Anyone who violates women — kill…”

He Wen, leading his personal guard, headed toward the direction where the flames were burning — the residence of a powerful clan. Judging by the scene, both sides had evidently fought fiercely over control of the house and courtyard, and as He Wen stepped into the compound, he could see corpses lying scattered haphazardly across the grounds. Among the dead were not only able-bodied men bearing blades and spears, but also women and children clearly cut down while fleeing.

He said nothing, walking forward, and soon a deputy brought over a man to pay his respects — a Fairness Party leader in his thirties, wearing a black headband, originally of relatively low standing, who this time had spotted a weakness in this town’s defenses and had hastily summoned nearby allies to breach the walls. Since the Jurchens’ departure, livelihoods across Jiangnan had not yet recovered, and refugees whose families had been destroyed wandered everywhere — those who entered cities could beg, while those who took to the mountains could turn to banditry. In recent times, the Fairness Party’s momentum had been steadily growing; the core force under He Wen’s direct command was still being built up, but countless outlying factions, hearing the name, had begun fighting under its banner as well.

After giving a brief account of events, the leader began describing how the clansmen of this powerful family had put up fierce resistance during the assault, resulting in considerable casualties among his own men. He Wen asked after the treatment of the wounded, then asked, “Where is the estate owner? Where is the clan patriarch?”

The leader hesitated slightly. “A few of the old fools resisted stubbornly and refused to surrender even at the cost of their lives, so we had no choice but… to kill them.”

“Take me to see them.”

“…In the, in the ancestral hall.” The leader led the way forward, then added, “These bastards — out there, people can’t make a living, everyone’s starving to death, and they’ve got gold, silver, grain, and provisions piled up like a small mountain at home! The gold and silver items alone are beyond counting. I had people carry it all over to the ancestral hall — no one dared skim off any for themselves… Hey, San’er, come over and tell Master He what it looked like when we opened the granary storehouse. Those little bastards even tried to burn the grain!”

As they talked, the group made their way to the ancestral hall, where the bodies lay strewn about, and to one side stood wooden chests of various sizes filled with gold and silver. The leader immediately went over and opened the chests for He Wen to see. He Wen walked over to the pile of corpses and looked them over for a moment, then went to the pile of gold and silver, picked up a few gold items to examine them, and then asked about the grain and provisions.

“Call together all the brothers who answered my summons and took part in this — I have something to say to them. I want to thank them.”

Only now did his expression and tone soften. The leader had his deputy go call the men, and before long, several other leaders had been summoned and came to pay their respects to “Lord of Fairness” Master He. He Wen glanced them over, then waved his hand.

“Disarm them, and hold them in custody for now — their fate will be decided later.”

With his order given, the deputy responsible for carrying it out waved a command flag. Among those in the courtyard, some cried out in protest, others drew their blades, and commotion soon stirred outside as well, but since the elite troops on hand had already been prepared in advance, the disturbance was quelled before long, and the guards in the courtyard surrounded the several leaders. Some put up a bold front, but the head of this Fairness Party contingent had already dropped to his knees. He Wen looked at them.

“Killing people and destroying families just to vent your anger — killing them all, when there are even women’s bodies outside, violated and left behind because you didn’t have time to hide them! That’s the act of beasts! Who did what and who didn’t will all be thoroughly investigated afterward. In a few days, you will stand public trial before all the common people! You want to be the Fairness Party? This is what the Fairness Party looks like!”

One of the men began cursing. “Hypocrite! We worked hard for you, our brothers died, we bled for you, and this is how you treat us! We kept our men in check — the common people outside weren’t touched at all! This household is full of gold and silver, grain piled like mountains — look how well they dressed, all of it squeezed from the blood and sweat of the common people, and that’s exactly who they are! You Fairness Party hypocrite — you just want to grab all this for yourself without sharing—”

He Wen said, “So anyone dressed well is automatically evil? By that logic, everyone in the world should dress in rags before they go killing people! You say they’re evildoers — what evil did they do? On what day, in what month, in what year? Where is the victim? With so many dead here, which one of them did the evil deed? Was it this old man here, or the ten-year-old girl lying dead outside? You kill first and explain later — that makes you nothing but bandits! That’s exactly what’s unfair here!”

“They’re this rich while people outside are starving to death — if you just ask around a little, you’re bound to find some evil deed they’ve done. It’s plain as day, Master He, don’t play dumb when you clearly understand—”

“Did that little girl outside do something evil too?”

“In times of chaos and war, how can things be sorted so cleanly—”

“—Seize him!”

The chaos and commotion continued for a while longer in the darkness, and the flames within the great clan’s compound finally began to die down. He Wen went to inspect the grain stores kept by this powerful family, then ordered the soldiers to gather up the bodies, before finally assembling with the deputies and personal attendants who had accompanied him this time out in the outer courtyard. Some spoke of the grain, and mentioned the refugees and famine outside; others noted that this leader had done rather well in restraining the refugees from harassing ordinary people this time. He Wen ate some dry rations, then slammed the bowl in his hand down onto the blue bricks of the courtyard. For a moment, the courtyard fell completely silent.

“Wasn’t there always some worthless scoundrel in whatever village or street you used to live in?”

He said, “Idle all day, never doing honest work, always looking for a chance to mooch off this family or that. Wherever there was a chance to gain something for nothing, that kind was never absent. This sort isn’t a murderous bandit, nor a reckless outlaw who doesn’t care what others think. They live right beside you, going about their days, and as long as there’s some advantage to be had, they can always come up with excuse after excuse, reason after reason…”

“There’s one thing that marks this kind of scoundrel — if you were a bandit or an outlaw, maybe one day you could actually make your fortune. A scoundrel never will. Their whole life is spent scraping together small advantages, with not a shred of principle in their hearts…”

“Today you smashed apart this great compound, and look — it’s all gold and silver, all grain and provisions, more than an ordinary person would see in a lifetime. And look again — ah, these people dressed so well, squeezed from the blood and sweat of the common people, we of the Fairness Party act on heaven’s behalf, righting wrongs — bullshit—”

He Wen waved his hand, glaring, and shouted.

“Were none of these people killed wrongly? What if they were killed by mistake? Did any of you even think of that? Because there’s always an excuse for killing the wrong person! In times of chaos and war, who doesn’t end up killing a few old folks, women, and children along the way! Do something, then look for a reason afterward — anyone can find one! But if you look for the reason only after the fact, you’re nothing but scoundrels pointing at a bit of loot! And once you start pointing at that little bit of loot, you’ll never be capable of accomplishing anything great in the future.”

“If you want to accomplish something great, something real, you must have! Principles! In your hearts!”

He Wen stood there in the courtyard, speaking each word deliberately.

The firelight stirred restlessly in the night. In the fifth month, the Fairness Party, which had been steadily swelling in numbers for a time, began to show internal divisions, and began developing more mature guiding principles and codes of conduct.

At the same time, amid the ruins of Daming Prefecture on the northern bank of the Yellow River, a black banner fluttered quietly. At this moment, the Jurchen eastern route army, retreating northward, had encamped on the southern bank of the Yellow River, considering the best strategy for crossing.

Starting from the fourth month, the Huaxia and Guangwu forces, which had once holed up in their base at Liangshan Marsh, began emerging in batches, clashing several times with Wanyan Chang’s forces tasked with securing the eastern route army’s northward retreat. Though these engagements were brief skirmishes that ended quickly, the forces led by Zhu Biao, Wang Shanyue, and Liu Chengzong had all clearly demonstrated their future combat intentions: once the Jurchen army prepared to cross the river, they would not pass up any opportunity to harass those crossing points.

Over the past two years, these forces at Liangshan had all shown a tenacious will to fight. Though the Jurchen eastern route army projected an imposing scale, the several hundred thousand Han captives following them northward were an unwieldy burden — this was the eastern route army’s weakness. Should this burden be exploited, the resulting chaos would inevitably give Zongfu and Zongbi a considerable headache.

But at the level of contending for the realm, a headache was not so serious a problem.

Facing the resolve of the Liangshan forces, Zongfu and Zongbi had already assembled their elite troops, preparing to cross the Yellow River and engage in a great battle. At the same time, Wanyan Chang and Shulisu were leading several tens of thousands of troops down from the north to press in as well. Between them, Wanyan Chang’s tactics were meticulous and thorough, while Shulisu’s approach was aggressive as wildfire — their respective styles complementing each other perfectly. And so, by mid-fifth month, an eastern route army numbering in the hundreds of thousands was set to cast a vast net, determined to pull out this last thorn on their path home.

News of the Jurchen western route army’s defeat, and of Nianhan’s crushing loss at the decisive battle of Hanzhong, had by now spread across both banks of the Yellow River like boiling oil poured over the land. On the northern bank, Zhu Biao, Wang Shanyue, and Liu Chengzong were greatly inspired, and had all resolved to fight a splendid battle here. To this end, the staff had spent days upon days drawing up countless plans and simulations. Though their own numbers were small, they were all veterans who had endured the most brutal fighting, while the enemy camp, bloated and eager to return home, had a clear weakness — if it could be properly targeted, an ant might yet manage to bite a devastating wound into an elephant.

On the southern bank of the Yellow River, Zongfu and Zongbi were all the more eager to use this battle and its victory to prove themselves different from Nianhan and Xiyin of the western route army. Against the backdrop of the crushing defeat in the southwest, if they could bury this battle-tested Black Banner force from Shandong along the banks of the Yellow River, both military and civilian morale back home would be greatly boosted.

Against this backdrop, on the fifteenth of the fifth month, in a deserted village west of Daming on the northern bank of the Yellow River, Zhu Biao, Wang Shanyue, and Liu Chengzong met briefly, receiving an envoy sent from the southwest — Dong Fangxian, “Chief Manager” of the Bamboo Chronicle. Zhu, Wang, and Liu roughly laid out their plans for the coming battle to Dong Fangxian, and by that afternoon, Dong Fangxian began relaying certain words that Ning Yi had asked him to bring along.

“Mr. Ning had me bring an idea over — just an idea. The specific decision is yours to make. And this idea only becomes relevant once you’ve made full preparations for battle.”

Once Dong Fangxian finished saying this, Wang Shanyue was already laughing. “What kind of trick does Old Ning have up his sleeve this time? Go ahead, tell me.”

“Negotiate. Make peace.”

Dong Fangxian looked at Wang Shanyue and said this calmly. The scar on Wang Shanyue’s face immediately twisted into an ugly expression, and he spat on the ground.

“It’s only one option for your consideration — the final decision is entirely yours to make,” Dong Fangxian repeated.

Wang Shanyue raised his head and gestured with his hand toward Zhu Biao and Liu Chengzong. “There are more of your people here — how… will the decision be made?”

“We’ll take everyone’s opinions into account as much as possible. Mr. Ning even said we could put it to a vote within the army if need be.” Dong Fangxian was somewhat portly, his hair already showing quite a bit of gray, and ordinarily appeared amiable. Now, facing Wang Shanyue’s searing gaze, he remained perfectly calm, showing not the slightest sign of flinching. “Before I left, Mr. Ning did say one thing — at the very least, Young Master Wang can rest assured of this: there are no cowards in the Huaxia Army.”

Wang Shanyue stared at him for a moment. “Go on, I’m listening.”

Dong Fangxian nodded. “On the northern bank of the Yellow River, the combined forces of the Huaxia Army and the Guangwu Army currently number fewer than thirty thousand. The advantage is that all of you are battle-tested and can use the terrain to maneuver and fight as guerrillas. Everything else is a disadvantage. The Jurchen eastern route army has two hundred thousand men, plus Wanyan Chang and Shulisu’s forces — they truly have the upper hand. Forcing a battle would not be worth the cost. But if you’re truly determined to fight to the last, your chances of survival… are not high. That’s putting it politely.”

Wang Shanyue said, “First, we’re not afraid to die. Second, Zongfu and Zongbi are in a hurry to get back and fight over power — that’s also to our advantage.”

Dong Fangxian said, “First, no one is afraid to die — what we’re discussing is how you’ll die. Second, given that the western route army has already suffered a crushing defeat, if Zongfu and Zongbi truly decide to go all in, they could simply head back first themselves, leaving the two hundred thousand troops to Wanyan Chang to finish you off in Shandong — a fight to the death either way. It would be troublesome for them, but at least it wouldn’t look worse than what happened to Nianhan.”

Dong Fangxian turned his gaze toward Zhu Biao and Liu Chengzong. “In the worst-case scenario, your entire force is wiped out, but you inflict massive losses on the Jurchen eastern route army — with the several hundred thousand Han people they’re bringing north, they could lose anywhere from tens of thousands to over a hundred thousand men in this great battle. As for the possibility of killing Zongfu and Zongbi in some decisive engagement — it’s not impossible, but very slim. In terms of combat strength, you’re short on supplies, even having gone hungry for a long stretch now — on an open battlefield, you’d likely still be no match for the Tushan Guard.”

“War, after all, isn’t just a matter of theory on paper,” Liu Chengzong said. “But… go on, tell us more.”

“Mr. Ning believes the root problem in Shandong right now is that neither side believes the other capable of retreating. Young Master Wang, you held Daming for so long, already resigned to death long ago; Brother Zhu Biao, two years back, you never retreated against Shulisu, and in the face of the crisis at Daming, you still came resolutely to the rescue. Our past record has already shown that no one in the Huaxia Army fears anyone, fears even death itself…”

“I’m not part of the Huaxia Army,” Wang Shanyue interjected.

Dong Fangxian smiled. “That’s precisely why Zongfu and Zongbi don’t believe they can pass through easily either — they must fight, because they have no other choice. On our side too, we believe Zongfu and Zongbi will never let Liangshan go. But Mr. Ning believes that, besides fighting, we have at least two other options. For instance, we could leave — abandon Liangshan, and temporarily relocate to Shanxi…”

“We’ve been operating here for a long time now, and we’ve already built up a certain reputation and presence…”

“If it comes to a fight, that groundwork will be very difficult to maintain,” Dong Fangxian said. “Which brings us to another option: once you’ve made your preparations for battle, I could cross the river and negotiate a result with Zongfu and Zongbi — the two of you, through some form and some sequence of steps, could each open a path for the other. Given that Wuqimai of the Jin state is close to death, and the eastern route army is dangerously bloated with baggage, Zongfu and Zongbi may well agree to such negotiation terms — and you would retain the possibility of continued growth for now, becoming, someday in the future, the vanguard force that strikes into the Jin state.”

Wang Shanyue fell silent. Dong Fangxian continued, “Shandong has already been ravaged before — last year there wasn’t even winter wheat sprouting. Your current food rations will only last a month or two more. Mr. Ning has proposed borrowing grain and seedlings from Shanxi — once you get past this crisis, you’ll gradually recover your strength. And going forward, you’ll be able to truly develop and manage Shandong properly…”

“What about the several hundred thousand people the eastern route army has taken captive?” Wang Shanyue looked up.

Dong Fangxian said, “Can they be saved?”

“If we launch an attack, some of them could escape in the chaos.”

“…Some would escape, but more would die. And afterward, once you’re dead, the eastern route army, humiliated, will round up every civilian they can catch and send them north.”

“So because of that, we should just avoid the fight? What will the world think of us in the future?”

“There’s no good option here — it’s hard even to judge which option is worse. So Mr. Ning says the decision is yours to make. If you decide to fight, I will do everything in my power to support you. If you decide to negotiate, I will do my best to negotiate. We’re all martial men here, and we all know that sometimes we pull back our fist precisely so we can land a heavier blow on the enemy’s face later…”

His plump arms drew back slightly, and when he struck out, there was considerable force behind it. “Fighting here right now would rally the hearts of the realm, and there’s even a chance you might actually encounter Zongfu and Zongbi on the battlefield and kill them — that would be the cleanest, simplest choice. But if you retreat today, you’ll carry a regret in your hearts, and it might even be dug up someday and used against you, leaving you with a tarnished name. As for whether, five or ten years from now, you might muster even greater strength to strike into the Jin state — that’s hard to say too… You need to weigh this carefully.”

Wang Shanyue looked at him. “It’s also possible that when you, fat man, cross the river, Zongfu and Zongbi — those two fools — refuse to negotiate, and you become the sacrifice we’ve handed over to them, burned first as an offering to their war banner.”

Dong Fangxian laughed. “Quite possible. But something like this, if left to anyone else to negotiate, probably wouldn’t go anywhere either — so it seems this fat man has no choice but to make the trip himself.”

His tone remained calm, and within that matter-of-fact composure lay a fearlessness that had already set aside life and death. In truth, the four men present had mostly known each other and dealt with each other for over a decade. Even though Wang Shanyue felt no small displeasure toward Ning Yi and this proposal of his, he understood in his heart that this suggestion had not come from fear — rather, it was because the Liangshan forces had suffered such devastating losses over the past two years in battle that, even now, their strength had genuinely not recovered. To engage in another fearless slaughter, they might well be able to tear off a piece of flesh from the Jurchens, but that would be all they could achieve…

The Yellow River surged onward, and the sun gradually sank toward the west. Zhu, Wang, and Liu conversed by the riverbank, weighing the choice that lay ahead of them. In the desolate wilderness a dozen or so li from where they stood, a now-gaunt Luo Ye and his men were maintaining their weapons in the sunlight, while not far off, the troops led by Guan Sheng were resting, and Lu Junyi was leading his scout unit in more distant reconnaissance. They had already rolled up their sleeves, ready to take some enemy’s head in the fighting to come.

Under this same backdrop, over a hundred li south of the Yellow River, another envoy delegation, likewise charged with a negotiating mission, was approaching the Jurchen eastern route army’s camp near the riverbank. This was a delegation of negotiators dispatched from the small court at Lin’an, led by the small court’s Minister of Rites, Huang Zhong — one of Left Chancellor Tie Yan’s most trusted right-hand men, clear-minded and eloquent. His purpose on this trip was to move Zongfu and Zongbi, the two Jurchen princes, to release some portion of the Lin’an populace they had taken captive and were bringing north, given the present situation.

This was an idea the Lin’an small court had gotten after learning of Dai Mengwei’s exploits: following the crushing defeat in the southwest, in order to counterbalance the Huaxia Army as much as possible, Xiyin had instead lavished considerable benefits upon Dai Mengwei, an opponent of the Huaxia Army. Now, with the Lin’an small court’s own days growing difficult as well, and with the foreseeable future promising that the Black Banner would become the most formidable power across the former Martial Dynasty’s lands, they hoped that, as one of the factions firmly resisting the Black Banner, they too might receive some measure of support from Princes Zongfu and Zongbi before they departed.

As the eastern route army withdrew, it had taken hundreds of thousands of people from Jiangnan northward with it. Given the current situation, if they could persuade the Jurchens, they might at least secure the release of ten thousand — or even just a few thousand — people originally from Lin’an. Whoever succeeded in this persuasion would see their reputation soar, and Tie Yan and the others’ hold over Lin’an would be further strengthened as well.

This was how they reasoned it out.