The hour of Chou had already struck some time ago, and the stars scattered across the sky seemed to dim somewhat as the night deepened, faint clouds drifting here and there across the heavens.

Only two rooms in the courtyard were usable, and now, with the lamplight shielded, the young medic of the Black Banner Army worked to give emergency treatment to a total of five severely wounded men. Huang Shan occasionally carried out basins of bloodied water, and aside from that, one could hear, from time to time, the young medic’s cursing directed at Huang Jianfei and Qu Longjun inside the room.

The bloody water was poured into a jar and sealed up for the time being. Elsewhere, under Yan Ying’s direction, some of the men had begun cooking rice in the kitchen; most of them were men who lived by the blade, and after half a night of tension, fighting, and flight, their stomachs had long since begun to growl.

While the young medic tended to the severely wounded inside, the several men outside with lighter injuries had already bandaged themselves and had spent a while keeping watch from the rooftop and over the wall. Once things seemed to have settled somewhat, Huang Nanzhong and Yan Ying met to confer for a while, after which Huang Nanzhong called over Ye Zi, the family’s fastest in lightness kung fu, and sent him across the city to find a certain well-connected figure they’d arranged beforehand, to see whether they might get out of the city come morning. Yan Ying, meanwhile, summoned one of his own men and sent him back to find Guan Shanhai, to secure a fallback plan.

“We’ve all fallen for that demon’s trap.” Yan Ying sighed, gazing at the eerie night outside the courtyard. “With the situation in the city the way it is, the Black Banner Army must have known about it all along, and chose not to stop the troublemakers—meaning they wanted to use exactly this kind of chaos to serve as a warning to everyone… Before tonight, all anyone in the city talked about was ‘taking the desperate gamble’—and I’d wager a good many of the people saying it were Black Banner spies themselves. After tonight, everyone will lose their taste for stirring up trouble.”

“In the last days of the Han, Dong Zhuo held power over the entire court, controlling the emperor to command the lords—who in the court didn’t fear him? But ruling by sheer intimidation has never lasted for long,” Huang Nanzhong said. “So long as he cannot win people over through virtue and reason, there will always be others to rise up, one after another, undeterred.”

The unrest in the city could still be heard faintly from time to time. The two men exchanged a few words under the eaves, their minds ill at ease. The conversation turned again to the young medic, and Yan Ying said, “Can we really trust this doctor, the one surnamed Long?”

“He broke military discipline, secretly sold medicine—that was a month ago. If the Black Banner wanted to set a trap, they wouldn’t send a boy of fourteen or fifteen to do it. It’s just that he grew up in the Black Banner from childhood, and even though he’s broken the rules, whether he’ll truly commit himself to helping us is another matter.”

“If we could catch one of the Black Banner and have him kill the man himself, there’d be no need to guess.”

Saying this, Yan Ying’s gaze drifted out toward the courtyard, and Huang Nanzhong nodded, glancing around as well. There were still eighteen people in the courtyard at that moment—setting aside the five severely wounded, Wen Shoubin and his daughter, and the two of them, there remained nine men skilled in martial arts. Capturing a lone Black Banner soldier wasn’t entirely out of the question.

But after a moment of silence, Huang Nanzhong said, “Given the situation, better not to complicate matters further. Everyone in the courtyard now is a capable fighter, and I’ve already told Jianfei and the others to keep a close eye on this young medic. At his age, he can’t pull off much of anything.”

Yan Ying’s face darkened, and he nodded. “I suppose there’s no other way… I lost family members to the Black Banner’s blade today. My thinking’s a bit clouded right now—if I’ve spoken out of turn, I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Huang Nanzhong cupped his hands as well, his gaze grave. “What I brought today, I called them family retainers, but the truth is, I watched many of them grow up—some like sons and nephews to me, some like brothers. Along with Ye Zi, only five of them remain now. I don’t even know what’s become of the others, or whether they’ll manage to escape Chengdu… Brother Yan, I understand exactly how you feel—no different from my own.”

Having said this, Huang Nanzhong excused himself and turned to go inside to check on the emergency treatment.

Behind them stood only two adjoining brick rooms, sparsely furnished, plainly decorated. As they’d been told earlier, this was the sole property the young Black Banner medic had purchased within Chengdu using his military pension after his family had died. Since he’d originally lived alone, the inner room held only a single bed, which was now being used as the treatment table.

Desperate times called for desperate measures—the men had laid straw and rags on the floor for the wounded to lie on. When Huang Nanzhong entered, three of the original five wounded had already received emergency treatment and bandaging, while the fourth was having a bullet removed from his leg; the room was thick with the smell of blood, and though the wounded man had bitten down on a piece of cloth, he still let out sounds that set everyone’s teeth on edge.

The mood inside the room was tense; the young medic cursed away, and Huang Jianfei muttered along with him, while the girl called Qu Longjun carefully wiped away blood and sweat for the young doctor, her face on the verge of tears. Everyone was smeared with blood, and though summer had already passed, the seven or eight candles burning in the room still built up an unbearable, stifling heat. Seeing his master enter, Huang Shan came over to greet him in a low voice.

Though the young medic’s language was foul, his hands moved swiftly and methodically; Huang Nanzhong watched for a moment and nodded. He hadn’t come in mainly to oversee the surgery—turning his head, he looked toward the corner of the inner room, where Chen Wei and Qin Gang lay.

The assassin called Chen Wei was a chief lieutenant under the “Ghost Strategist” Ren Jingzhu; badly wounded now, half his body wrapped in bandages, he lay motionless where he’d been placed—had Huang Shan not already reported that he was alive, Huang Nanzhong would almost have taken him for dead.

Beside Chen Wei, Qin Gang, somewhat larger in build, refused to close his eyes and rest even after receiving emergency treatment. Propped up against a pillow, half sitting, half lying, with two steel blades laid within reach, he seemed—perhaps because he wasn’t yet familiar with these people—to still be watching his surroundings warily, guarding his companion’s safety.

Meaning to strike up a rapport with him, Huang Nanzhong walked over. “Hero Qin, your wounds aren’t light. Now that they’re bandaged, you really should try to rest a while…”

Qin Gang replied, “We haven’t left danger behind yet—I dare not sleep easy. Besides, for men of the martial arts like us, if we can endure today’s pain, taking such a wound again some other day will mean nothing at all.”

“A true man of iron and blood—truly admirable.” Huang Nanzhong cupped his hands. “And rest assured, Hero, so long as we’re here, even if it costs us our lives tonight, we will see to it that the two of you come through this safely. It’s so that… in years to come, when people speak of today’s slaying of the demon, there will be heroes worthy of standing alongside masters like Zhou Zong—our lives, at this moment, are not worth sparing…”

At the mention of Zhou Tong, Qin Gang fell silent, and after a moment, seemed to be listening for sounds from outside. “Any more movement out there?”

“There are still those willing to press on, one after another. The Black Banner Army is fearsome, but it stands friendless and alone—perhaps by tomorrow’s dawn we’ll hear news that the demon lord has met his end… And even if not, after today’s great feat, more will come, one after another, in the days to come. Today is only the first time.”

His voice was steady, and even amid the blood and stifling heat filling the room, it had a calming effect. Qin Gang looked him over for a moment, then said through clenched teeth, “My three junior martial brothers died beneath the Black Banner’s blades… but my senior brother and I still live. This debt will be repaid someday.”

“Without question,” Huang Nanzhong said.

As the two of them spoke, the young doctor treating the wounded gave a snort. “Came knocking on someone else’s door, got beaten because you’re not good enough, and now you’re going on about revenge…”

The young man’s tone was harsh. The severely wounded in the room had, until now, held their lives in the others’ hands, and Huang Jianfei, under his master’s instructions, had held back from reacting. But given the current situation, who among them didn’t have a fire burning in their chest? Qin Gang immediately glared at him with fury, and Huang Nanzhong, sitting nearby, felt a flicker of displeasure cross his own eyes as well—but he simply patted Qin Gang’s hand, turned his back to the young doctor, and spoke evenly.

“This year the Jurchens ran rampant across the Central Plains, then struck through the lands south of the river as well. Now, all across the realm, refugees scatter in every direction—who knows how many common folk will starve to death in the cold and hunger this year. This scene has played out across the Central Plains for ten years now—at first, people traded their children to eat them; later, for a thousand li there was no crowing of a rooster to be heard—this isn’t a joke. Aotian, here in Chengdu you see wealth and prosperity, but across this realm right now, countless people are truly freezing and starving to death. Do you think we came here for nothing?”

The young medic, blade still in hand, half his face smeared with blood, seemed not to have expected the man to talk back. “Can’t beat the Jurchens, so you blame the southwest?”

Huang Nanzhong remained perfectly composed. “The Martial Dynasty enthroned one benighted ruler after another—there’s no denying that, and now it has lost its realm, the world torn into fragments—call it the cycle of heaven’s way, good and evil each receiving its due. But what wrong have the common people of this world done? Lord Dai Mengwei of Xicheng County saved a million soldiers and civilians from the Jurchens’ hands, and the Black Banner Army said he had won the people’s hearts and, for now, would not pursue the matter with him—but what’s the truth of it? Simply that the Black Banner is unwilling to take responsibility for those million, even several million, lives.”

He spoke on eloquently. “Of course, they say all the right things on the surface. With that demon presiding over it, the Black Banner claims to keep its doors open, willing to trade and deal with all quarters. But what is this ‘trade,’ really? Today, everywhere else in the realm has been smashed to pieces, worth no more than broken pottery, while only the Huaxia Army’s territory is rich and abundant. On the surface it looks like trade—bring your money and goods, and I’ll sell to you—but underneath, isn’t it just squeezing every advantage out of every household? He means to strip every family down to the bone…”

“…In ordinary times, this sort of merchant’s way would be nothing worth remarking on—if he can turn a profit through trade, that’s his own skill. But today, these trade relationships are matters of life and death for entire households. If that demon insists on doing things this way, of course there will be those who can no longer bear to live under it—people who want to come here, replace the Black Banner’s leadership with someone less formidable, so that the common people outside might live a little longer, so that the Black Banner might actually live up to the name ‘Huaxia.'”

His words were steady and calm, and Qin Gang beside him nodded repeatedly, gripping Huang Nanzhong’s hand tightly. On the other side, the young doctor, fully absorbed in tending the wounded, found these words drifting into his ears—each sentence seemed to carry some logic to it, yet each one also felt deeply wrong somehow. By the time he’d finished a stage of treatment and wanted to argue back or offer some sharp retort, he found he couldn’t organize his thoughts enough to know where to even begin.

Huang Nanzhong stood up. “Well now, the truths of this world aren’t as simple and straightforward as we might wish. Doctor Long, do finish tending to the wounded first. Once we’ve saved a few of these heroes, if you’ve still got things to say, this old man will be happy to discuss them with you further. For now, I won’t disturb you any longer.”

He felt a flicker of anger in his heart, but he knew well enough what mattered and what didn’t—what good would it do now to argue a teenage Black Banner member into silence? Even if there was something to be done about it, it would have to wait until after the wounded were treated.

With that, he took his leave of Qin Gang, patted Huang Jianfei and Huang Shan each on the shoulder, and stepped out of the room. By then, the fourth severely wounded man was nearly finished being bandaged.

Outside in the courtyard, the group had already cooked rice in the kitchen and dug out a small jar of pickled vegetables from a corner, and everyone helped themselves. When Huang Nanzhong came out, a retainer brought him a bowl as well. The night had been long and perilous indeed; everyone had spent half the night with nerves stretched taut, and now they shoveled rice into their mouths with loud slurping sounds—some paused to mutter a curse under their breath, others, remembering brothers who’d died earlier, couldn’t help but shed tears. Huang Nanzhong understood well enough—a real man doesn’t cry easily, only when the grief cuts deep enough.

The tension, danger, and fear of this night were hard to sum up in words. Before setting out, they had imagined the scene of their attack countless times over—success or failure, but even failure, they’d believed, would end in some grand, dramatic fashion. They had heard, time and again in the past, tales of how Zhou Tong had assassinated Zong Han, and this operation in Chengdu had been brewing openly for over a month now, with countless people discussing it.

When the explosion had gone off the night before, through the earlier stretch of waiting they had heard wave after wave of disturbance, and their spirits had run high with excitement. But none of them had imagined that when their own turn actually came to act, it would amount to no more than a brief, chaotic scramble—they had charged forward, then fled just as quickly; some had watched companions fall beside them, some had come face to face with the Black Banner Army’s wall-like shield formation and never found an opening to strike; half of them had barely even engaged before their companions ahead, already bleeding, came fleeing back past them—and if they themselves hadn’t turned and run, they wouldn’t have been swept up in that chaotic retreat either.

They had no way of knowing whether the other rioters had faced the same thing, but the terror of this night was far from over, and even having found this medic’s small courtyard as a temporary refuge didn’t mean they were safe going forward. Once the Huaxia Army finished dealing with matters out in the streets, there would certainly be a large-scale manhunt for those who’d fled—there was no guarantee they’d even make it out of the city… and as for the young medic, there was no guarantee he could be trusted either…

Eating in this state, the group recalled the earlier disgrace and humiliation, and turning their thoughts to the danger still ahead, the mood in the courtyard grew heavy and hard to bear. The “Sizhou Killing Blade” Mao Hai, restless and agitated, couldn’t help asking again and again: “That kid surnamed Long hasn’t tried anything, has he?”

“Maybe we should check on him more.”

“I don’t think he can be trusted.”

He muttered on and on, unable to stop himself from going into the room a couple of times, and on one occasion clearly clashed with the young medic, who shouted “if you’ve got the guts, go ahead and try something”—but with Huang Jianfei shielding him, Mao Hai could only swallow his anger and step back out.

Huang Nanzhong and Yan Ying went over and tried to calm him down. “What good does getting worked up do now?”

Mao Hai, eyes bloodshot, said in a low, choked voice, “My brother’s dead. He charged out front, and those Black Banner dogs hacked him down right where he stood… hacked him down right in front of my eyes…”

His voice was tight with suppressed emotion, and Huang Nanzhong and Yan Ying could only pat his shoulder. “The situation hasn’t settled yet. The heroes inside still need this young doctor’s treatment. Once we get past this, we’ll do whatever needs doing—with this many of us, we won’t let anyone’s death go unanswered.”

With this small disturbance passed, the group stood, sat, or paced about the courtyard, tense at every faint sound from outside; those trying to catch a moment’s rest under the eaves would jolt suddenly upright at the slightest noise.

As the hour of Chou drew to a close, the starlight over the courtyard dimmed further, and the emergency treatment inside finally, temporarily, came to an end. The young medic, Huang Jianfei, Qu Longjun, and the others came out of the room. Huang Jianfei went to report the results to his master: all five men’s lives had been saved, but what would happen from here would have to be seen.

Seeing people eating in the courtyard, the young medic headed toward the wooden shed in the corner that served as the kitchen. Qu Longjun went to check on her anxious foster father; Wen Shoubin told her to go eat something, so she headed that way too, meaning to wash her hands and face with some water first, then see if she could manage to eat anything—she’d actually wanted to throw up for much of the night.

At the kitchen, the young medic was scooping rice by the stove, while the blade-wielding Mao Hai stood blocking the entrance, looking for trouble; seeing Qu Longjun approaching, wanting to go in, he stepped aside to let her pass, muttering, “Don’t go thinking this kid’s any good—he’ll sell us out sooner or later.”

Qu Longjun murmured a vague assent, went in to fetch water, and once he’d left with his bowl, thoughtfully scooped out two more bowls of rice and some pickled vegetables—though she couldn’t eat much herself just then, she didn’t forget to bring bowls to Huang Jianfei and Huang Shan as well.

The mood in the courtyard frightened her at that moment.

A group of fierce, blade-worn men of the underworld, most bearing some wound or other, stood or sat scattered about the courtyard, a faint smell of blood clinging to them. Some eyes were fixed on the young Huaxia Army medic; others, of one kind or another, kept glancing furtively toward her.

—The eyes turned toward the young medic held no goodwill, wariness mixed with bloodlust; the young medic, too, was probably very afraid, though he sat on the steps eating, stubbornly holding himself together. As for the eyes turned toward herself, she’d seen plenty like them before, and understood exactly what they meant—in a chaotic night like this, such looks were all the more dangerous for her. All she could do was try to earn a little goodwill from the people she knew best, bringing rice to Huang Jianfei and Huang Shan—a small act of self-protection under the weight of this fear.

Huang Nanzhong and Yan Ying, the true core figures of this courtyard, had pulled over wooden stumps and sat chatting idly beneath the eaves; Huang Jianfei and another underworld figure sat nearby as well. In the middle of some conversation, Huang Nanzhong waved the young medic over. “Little Brother Long, come here.”

The young man, still eating, walked over and sat down on the edge of the steps beneath the eaves. Qu Longjun came over too, bringing food to Huang Jianfei, and heard Huang Nanzhong ask, “You’re called Long Aotian—’Proud Heaven Dragon’—quite an elaborate name, full of grandeur, no ordinary bearing to it. Your family must have been well off in the past—did your parents have some schooling?”

Long Aotian shoveled rice into his mouth. “Not much schooling. My dad was just a doctor, my mom farmed.”

“Oh? Then where did this name of yours come from? Not many places could produce such a grand name.”

“Master Ning killed the emperor, so these past years plenty of kids in the Huaxia Army get named like this. I got mine changed when I was six—there’s a kid in the next village called ‘Overlord Heaven,’ another called ‘Dragon Slayer,’ another called ‘Regicide.'”

“…I see.” Huang Nanzhong and Yan Ying exchanged a startled look, then nodded slowly. Qu Longjun, off to the side, couldn’t help laughing, then turned and went into the room to bring food to Huang Shan.

Coming back out of the room, she found Huang Nanzhong and the others under the eaves lecturing the young medic on the ways of the world.

“…Weren’t you puzzled earlier? Let me tell you now, just what this Master Ning of yours has actually done. The Guanzi records that scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants are the four classes of the people—scholars first, farmers next, artisans after that, merchants last of all. Why do merchants rank lowest? Not without reason. Merchants value profit over righteousness—it’s fine to have some of them, but too many, and it becomes a great calamity…”

“Why’s that?” the young medic cut in.

“Hm?”

“Why does it become a great calamity if there are too many?”

“Because he values profit over righteousness—if this world had only profit and no righteousness, could such a world even go on? Let me give you an example, and you’ll understand… Back in the eleventh year of the Jinghan era, when Right Chancellor Qin Siyuan still held office, the whole realm was struck by flood and drought alike, grain shortages everywhere—it was this very Master Ning of yours, together with that treacherous chancellor, who was put in charge of disaster relief… Now, for disaster relief, the court allocates funds, doesn’t it? But not him—for his own private gain, he mobilized merchants from every region, and made a great fortune off the nation’s calamity…”

“After that fortune was made, the Right Chancellor’s estate’s vast influence spread across the whole realm—even Cai Jing and Tong Guan of that time couldn’t match his sharp edge. And what did he do with it? He used the nation’s wealth, the people’s wealth, to raise his own private army—so that during the first siege of Bianliang, only the troops under the Right Chancellor and his two sons were capable of actually fighting. Is that mere coincidence, do you think…”

“That’s not how it happened at all…” The young medic frowned, unable to swallow his last mouthful of rice.

Yan Ying beside him patted his shoulder. “Child, you’re only fourteen. You grew up within the Black Banner Army—do you really think anyone there would tell you the truth? Come out with us this time, and once you’re outside, you’ll finally see what the truth really is.”

Long Aotian glared, unable to find a retort for the moment.

Huang Nanzhong went on. “Take the present matter, for instance. Aotian, you grew up in the Black Banner Army, so you probably never thought there was anything wrong with their talk of honoring contracts. You’d think, well, the Black Banner Army is willing to open its doors, willing to trade, willing to sell grain—if you think it’s too expensive, just don’t buy it. But in this world today, how many people can actually afford what the Black Banner Army sells? They say the door is open, but in truth it’s closed all the same… Just like during the disaster relief efforts back then—grain prices rose to thirty taels, and yes, technically there was a price you could pay, and the merchants would say, if you think it’s too expensive, don’t buy it… And isn’t that exactly how so many people starved to death? You cannot approach these matters as mere business—the only thing that can save the people of this world is a sense of greater righteousness in the heart…”

Yan Ying chimed in. “That demon Ning talks all about rules and order, but in truth it’s all just business. The reason so many people want to kill him now is precisely because it looks as though he’s given others a way forward, when in truth there is no way forward at all. Following his path, the common people of this world can never truly be saved… As for this demon Ning, Lord Wu Qimei of Lin’an wrote a fine essay laying out in detail his four great crimes within the Huaxia Army: cruelty, treachery, madness, and tyranny. Child, if you ever get out of here, you ought to read that essay over and over.”

Huang Nanzhong went on slowly. “And this demon Ning has two more fundamental faults at their root. First, his rash regicide, which left the situation with no room left for compromise. Second, his boundless arrogance in openly declaring he means to abolish Confucianism, making himself a laughingstock to the whole realm. His science of things is, in itself, a fine thing—but because of everything else he’s done, it can never be spread and adopted more widely. There are heroes within the Black Banner Army too, but following this demon, they can never reconcile with the rest of the realm…”

He continued. “Just imagine—if today, or some day in the future, this demon Ning were to die, the Huaxia Army could become the Huaxia Army of the whole realm, and countless people would be willing to deal with it, and the science of things could spread widely. The Han people of this realm wouldn’t have to slaughter each other—and… rocket technology could be put to use in our own Han armies, and the Jurchens would no longer amount to much… But so long as he lives, so long as this stain of regicide remains on his record, there can be no peace talks with this realm, no matter what—and countless people, countless innocents, will die because of it, people who could otherwise have been saved.”

Huang Nanzhong sighed as he finished. “A pity, truly, that this Chengdu affair has, in the end, still fallen right into this demon’s scheme…”

As he and Yan Ying spoke on at length, three other martial artists came over to listen as well, and hearing him mention a scheme, one of them asked in confusion what he meant. Huang Nanzhong repeated his earlier words, laying out one by one his analysis of how the Huaxia Army had positioned itself in advance, how the talk of assassination circulating within the city might well have been influenced by Huaxia Army spies all along, and so on. The listeners’ faces burned with fury, indignation choking their words.

Huang Nanzhong said, “They say the truly skilled warrior wins no glorious battles—that real kingly rule doesn’t lie in slaughter. Chengdu is the Huaxia Army’s own territory; this demon Ning could well have arranged things to prevent tonight’s chaos before it ever began. But this demon is bloodthirsty by nature, long accustomed to using killing, using blood, to warn others—he wants everyone to see just how many died here tonight… But such things won’t frighten everyone into silence. Just watch—more righteous men will come, one after another, to stand against him in the days ahead.”

Mao Hai, off to the side, said, “When I come back someday, I’ll wipe out that demon’s entire family, and avenge what happened tonight…”

A swordsman with a bandage wrapped around the side of his face said, “I hear he’s got six or seven wives, all supposedly gorgeous as flowers… Hero Chen Wei here is a master of disguise—if he hadn’t been after that demon himself this time, and had gone after his cursed wives and children instead, he might well have already succeeded…”

“…The fact that Hero Chen isn’t dead yet, I’d say, is exactly that demon’s karma catching up with him.”

Someone turned to the young medic. “See now? If you’ve got even a shred of humanity left in you, don’t you dare go on calling him ‘Master Ning’ like that anymore!”

Someone kicked at his back—not hard, just enough to make his body sway forward—muttering, “I’ve had it up to here with this Black Banner mongrel.” The young medic turned back with a savage glare, but since the five wounded men in the room still needed his care, Huang Jianfei stepped in and pushed the man away.

The group went on talking about the cruelty and tyranny of this demon Ning, and some kept their eyes fixed on the young medic, muttering curses at him all the while—earlier, the young medic had cursed back because he still had patients to save, but now that the emergency treatment was done, there was far less reason to hold back.

Sitting in the courtyard, Qu Longjun couldn’t help feeling a pang of sympathy for the young medic, who had no way to fight back either, and who had, after all, helped save lives alongside her earlier that night. Wen Shoubin pulled her aside. “Don’t get too close to that boy. I worry he won’t come to a good end tonight…”

There was a heavy, ominous note in Wen Shoubin’s words. Qu Longjun blinked, and after a long moment, finally gave a silent nod. In a situation like this, what else could she do?

By the time all this talk had run its course, it was already the hour of Yin, and the light in the sky had grown even dimmer. Occasional disturbances could still be heard from within the city, but after this stretch of heightened emotion, the mood in the courtyard finally settled somewhat, as the hours moved toward the darkest stretch of the early morning.

Qu Longjun leaned against the wall, dozing lightly; whenever someone moved nearby, she would startle awake and glance over. The young medic was targeted twice more—once shoved deliberately, once when he went to check on the wounded and was blocked at the door by Mao Hai, who cursed at him for a while.

Once the wounded had been fully treated, the lamps inside the room were finally extinguished entirely, and the stove held no more flame. The courtyard rustled faintly here and there, the figures under the starlight all tinged with a faint grey-blue. Qu Longjun sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, gazing at the faint, scattered starlight in the distant sky—how much longer would this endless night last? Her mind drifted to years before, when her father had gone off to war and never returned; she had cried the whole night through in the courtyard, watching the night deepen into its darkest hour and then give way to daylight, waiting for her father to come home—but he never did.

In the years since her father’s death, she had drifted from place to place, and had long since given up any real hope for the future. Staying out of the Huaxia Army’s clutches, taking on this mission as a spy, had at least seemed like the better option—going back would have meant nothing more than being sold off as a concubine to some wealthy household… This night of constant dread had left her exhausted, having already suffered fright after fright; she feared being killed by the Huaxia Army, and feared, too, that someone here might turn violent and do something to her. But at least, she told herself, the time ahead would pass quietly now, and she wouldn’t need to fear such things any longer…

So she told herself.

Around the second quarter of the hour of Yin, Huang Nanzhong and Yan Ying sat on their stumps, leaning against the wall, forcing themselves to stay alert, exchanging the occasional word, without resting. Though mentally exhausted, according to their earlier calculations, this was exactly the kind of hour when troublemakers might choose to strike. Everyone in the courtyard felt the same tension—the lookout on the rooftop kept his eyes wide open, Mao Hai paced beneath the eaves clutching his blade, Huang Shan stepped out for a few breaths of air before going back in, and the rest tried their best to stay awake, waiting for whatever news might come from outside—if they could just kill that demon Ning, what awaited them next would be the true dawn.

The dawn never came.

The swordsman who had earlier kicked the young medic, Long Aotian, was one of Yan Ying’s men. Having had a drink of water, he was walking past beneath the eaves when he crossed paths with the young medic, who had just stood up. The swordsman, a good head taller, gave him a disdainful look and made to shoulder-check him; the young medic stepped forward as well.

From Qu Longjun’s vantage point, she couldn’t make out clearly what happened—she hadn’t even had time to react before the two bodies collided, and the swordsman let out a muffled grunt, both hands suddenly pressing downward, his forward stride abruptly reversing into a wild stagger backward, his body slamming into a pillar beneath the eaves.

Everyone turned to look, startled.

In the next instant, the young man called Long Aotian swept both hands sideways. Blade-light, blood, and along with it the man’s own entrails flew up into the sky before dawn—

Three days, this chapter got scrapped three times, and today I’ve finally managed to turn in the full eight thousand characters…