On August 17, the Tianshou King dispatched one hundred thousand troops, advancing on Jingzhou.
In the words of the teahouse storyteller, if they did not mention eight hundred thousand or a million soldiers, they felt embarrassed to speak, so common people did not realize that one hundred thousand was already a large-scale army.
The foundation of the flourishing Chu Dynasty had slowly crumbled. Both south and north lost population each year; natural disasters and human calamities struck, farmland lay abandoned, officialdom deteriorated, and the military grew corrupt. These problems caused both internal turmoil and external threats in Jingzhou. Before the Tianshou King even invaded, chaos had already ensued.
First, the King of Jing was wounded in an assassination attempt. Then, they had confronted Qi’s navy across the river, deploying both troops and funds, and now they could not decide whether or not to withdraw; continuing would only drain money and manpower.
Finally, more than half the Jingzhou officials looked down on the Tianshou King’s so-called ragtag band, believing it to be nothing but peasants wielding shovels and farm tools, far weaker than Qi’s navy, so they merely needed to send a contingent to crush them.
Some high-ranking aristocrats treated this as a chance to gain meritorious service, to the point that they nearly fought one another to lead the army.
……Then those who won did not return with their heads.
On August 23, Jingzhou’s army of one hundred fifty thousand went up against one hundred thousand and suffered a heavy defeat.
The Tianshou King pursued relentlessly, killing over half of Jingzhou’s forces, and beheaded every captured Jingzhou general as an offering to the battle flag. A dozen or so cities, large and small, turned into seas of fire.
This battle struck straight at the vital core. As the fleeing soldiers spread panic, it loomed like dark clouds.
The Tianshou King did not appear to stop, continuing to move into the more prosperous southeastern region. Amid widespread fear, Jingzhou’s people faced forced conscription and grain seizures by the government. Since the autumn harvest had not yet been gathered, peasants barely had any food at home. They wept, wanting to keep both their grain and their children, but in the end, they kept nothing. Many elderly folk collapsed into the mud, wailing miserably.
Rumors portrayed the Tianshou King as a demon with four arms and three eyes, two zhang tall, who feasted on human flesh. People living not far from the battlefield and downstream watched their creek turn pale red, and right after, government officers charged into the village like wolves.
A month earlier, they had still labored diligently, and after paying the land tax and rent, the family survived on tight rations.
No matter how tough life was, their ancestors had lived the same way, and they would have kept on living.
Everything changed abruptly.
Some people abandoned their ancestral land, fleeing with their entire families.
More believed that their village was too remote to be threatened. After all, when three feudal kings under the old Chu regime fought in years past, the war had not reached their village, and there was no more grain for the government to seize. With wild fruits and fish plentiful this time of year, they thought they would not starve, so they stayed put.
Then, when the Tianshou King’s army arrived, it felt like a swarm of locusts.
Even the unripe crops in the fields and the stored grain in barns were not spared. Chickens, ducks, and even roof beams were taken.
Those things that Jingzhou’s officers had no interest in, the Tianshou King’s soldiers gladly snatched. Most of them did not even own a pair of shoes, let alone leather armor. They went barefoot, bared their chests, and chanted for the protection of the Ziwei Star Lord, fearing neither pain nor death.
The first defeat of Jingzhou’s army had provided them with many weapons and pieces of armor. They wore clothes stripped from corpses, rampaged through Jingzhou’s towns and villages, killed every person they saw, looted everything, and if something better appeared, they would throw away whatever they had just stolen.
The discarded items were still stained with blood, lying beside corpses. Then countless feet trampled over them, and finally they became part of the mud and gore.
Houses collapsed in flames, the thick smoke dispersing afterward.
Before long, footsteps sounded at the village entrance.
“……Chase!”
The leader forced himself to remain calm, avoiding the carnage all around.
They clutched their weapons, their attire notably similar. They were disciples of the Hengshan Sect.
Those of the martial world usually steered clear of warfare to avoid trouble, but the Tianshou King had already gone too far, leaving blood and fire wherever he passed, slaughtering commoners on a massive scale.
Proper sects could not live on air and dew alone; they owned land and relied on tenant farmers to cultivate it, while their disciples practiced martial arts rather than farming. If the Tianshou King continued pushing forward, eventually he would reach their mountain gate. They could not move the entire mountain away. Even if they warned the farmers to hide, what about the crops still growing in the fields?
Hence, upon hearing reports of the Tianshou King’s army’s brutality, numerous sects—both large and small—who had received letters from Fengxing Pavilion and had hesitated or planned to defend their territory, immediately dispatched disciples to support Jingzhou. The Hengshan Sect was among them.
They had not pursued for long before encountering a band of the Tianshou King’s marauders in the next town.
About one hundred in number, they did not know martial arts, but their viciousness and savagery were shocking. They seemed slower to feel pain, only crying out after being struck a third time. More often, they stared with bloodshot eyes and charged blindly. If they lost their weapons or had their limbs broken, they tore with their hands and bit with their teeth, wearing twisted smiles as they did so.
“Hiss.”
A careless Hengshan disciple got bitten on the left arm by one of the marauders. He lifted his saber and sliced off that person’s head.
“They were lunatics, all of them,” muttered the Hengshan disciple, his scalp prickling. If their martial arts had not been decent, they might have lost their lives.
Where had the Tianshou King found such a mob? Had they crawled out of Hell?
The martial world was already frightened, let alone ordinary folk.
When they finally slaughtered the last of the marauders, the Hengshan disciples stood in the street, breathing heavily, battered and terrified.
As they returned from various corners of the town, their steps slowed considerably.
They had thought this would be simple. As disciples of a major sect, they believed beating a band of marauders would be as easy as cutting melon and slicing vegetables. Yet the melon vines and vegetable stems had suddenly grown teeth, and a single misstep led to bloody injuries, even torn flesh.
And they had to keep going, clashing with these rabid dogs.
“Damn…”
The Hengshan disciples cursed in frustration, and one could not help but ask, “They said ‘capture the ringleader first.’ Why not just go straight for the Tianshou King?”
An older disciple rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Someone else is surely handling that. It’s none of our concern.”
In other words, nobody present qualified to be that assassin.
“Don’t you remember how Zheng Tu, disciple of Old Ancestor Qingwu, pledged allegiance to the Tianshou King years ago? Old Ancestor Qingwu died in Taijing, and Cangfeng Temple’s people scattered, yet Zheng Tu has stayed in Yizhou. You all know how skilled he was, right?”
At that, nobody spoke.
The martial world boasted sword prodigies from renowned sects and wanderers who found secret manuals by chance. No matter how powerful those people were, onlookers always thought they might have done better themselves, had they been given the opportunity.
Zheng Tu was different. He followed the path most young martial artists dreamed of: traveling all thirteen provinces, challenging a reputed senior master in each place, and achieving victory every time. The strangest part was that his martial skill was not truly invincible, yet he always spotted flaws after prolonged exchanges, turning defeat into victory. Nobody wished to face such an enemy; losing was not only humiliating but also incomprehensible.
Zheng Tu rarely killed his opponents in duels. Often, when he won, he himself was badly injured. He had neither the strength nor the desire to create lifelong enemies. Early on, some defeated fighters’ friends and disciples had sought revenge, but as his fame spread, they changed their tune, lavishly praising him. Their meaning was that the loser’s reputation was not undeserved; it was simply bad luck to encounter Zheng Tu. If Zheng Tu had not abruptly chosen to join the Tianshou King, he might have become the martial alliance leader in a few decades.
In fact, popular rumor in the martial world sympathized with Zheng Tu, believing it was not his personal choice but rather his master’s command, especially after Old Ancestor Qingwu’s ambitions were revealed.
“Old Ancestor Qingwu died, so Zheng Tu had no reason to remain with the Tianshou King… Look at these marauders. What in the world…”
A younger Hengshan disciple grumbled under his breath, unwillingly dragging his feet to follow the others to the next village.
***
On August 25, after an annoying autumn rain, the weather was no longer scorching.
This summer felt unusually long, and several places had drought.
Yet now that it had cooled down, nobody cared about the harvest or the weather anymore.
One place was hidden behind the hillside, appearing at first glance like a hunting lodge for a wealthy or influential family. It was normally kept under tight lock and key, with almost no one coming or going, yet now it bustled with unusual activity.
Many people busily went in and out, carrying bamboo tubes brought by carrier pigeons. Moreover, swift horses kept arriving one after another.
The riders tumbled from their saddles, showed their waist tokens, then took the water flasks handed over by others, hastily gulped down a few mouthfuls, and hurried inside.
“Reporting to the Pavilion Master, the latest military reports from Jingzhou City……”
“Pavilion Master, news from the Hengshan Sect.”
“Signs of marauders were discovered around Xiannan County.”
When Tao Niangzi and her younger brother arrived, this was the orderly chaos they witnessed.
They had originally run an inn by the riverbank, doing business with merchants smuggling goods. An unexpected upheaval destroyed their inn, by which twist of fate they met Meng Qi and Mo Li.
Tao Niangzi’s younger male cousin, Xiao Hezi, practiced external martial arts, damaging his meridians. Doctor Mo had examined him, originally promising to return in three months to treat him again and change his prescription, yet before summer had truly passed, Jingzhou was already in upheaval.
Tao Niangzi and her brother temporarily stayed in a village of refugees who had crossed from the north bank. Though the Tianshou King’s army had not yet arrived, they heard the peddler’s news and felt alarmed, each discussing fleeing south. Tao Niangzi was anxiously pacing around when suddenly, she welcomed two esteemed visitors she had not seen for a while.
Meng Qi had resumed the appearance of an old man.
This was to avoid frightening Tao Niangzi; how could he appear decades younger after only a month’s absence?
Because of this, when they reached the entrance of the manor, the men of Fengxing Pavilion nearly failed to recognize them.
——Thankfully, some who came from Ning Tai had seen Mo Li’s elderly appearance before.
“National Preceptor, Doctor Mo.”
Qiu Jing’s trusted aide came rushing upon hearing the news, hurrying them inside.
Countless pairs of eyes swept over Tao Niangzi and her brother, and that assessing gaze clearly made them uncomfortable.
By the time the four reached Qiu Jing, the report detailing Tao Niangzi and her brother’s origins had already been placed in the hands of the Fengxing Pavilion Master.
“So she’s Tao Niangzi of the Eight-Armed School in Sichuan.” Qiu Jing glanced at the paper outlining Tao Niangzi’s background, and immediately sensed why Meng Qi and Mo Li had brought her here.
“Someone, bring tea.”
Practitioners of the martial world emphasized courtesy, mainly for form’s sake, and sometimes they could not wait to finish it.
They had barely sat down, not even touching the tea, when Qiu Jing cut straight to the point: “The Eight-Armed School specializes in hidden weapons and has always been on good terms with the Pili Hall. Tao Niangzi left your school many years ago, so I wonder how much you know about the Pili Hall?”
Tao Niangzi had already heard from Mo Li about Pili Hall assisting the Tianshou King in breaching Xuanchuan Pass. Indeed, she volunteered for this trip.
“Pili Hall has suffered serious internal divisions these past few years. Some were engrossed in crafting mechanical hidden weapons, while others wished to go out into the wider world, believing Yizhou’s reach too limited to make a fortune. I heard the old patriarch of the Lei Family in Pili Hall passed away last year, so pledging allegiance to the Tianshou King should be the decision of the new family head.”
Tao Niangzi stepped forward without hesitation, stating that she would find some fellow senior and junior disciples from the Eight-Armed School to make contact with those in Pili Hall who opposed the family head.
Locating people happened to be Fengxing Pavilion’s specialty.
As long as they were not holed up in Yizhou, if they came to Jiangnan, it was only a matter of time.
“Tao Niangzi, please settle in for now. Within three days, you will surely hear word of your fellow disciples.” Qiu Jing gestured with her eyes, and someone immediately stepped forward to show them the way.
Tao Niangzi and her younger brother held the teacups they had just received, wondering awkwardly if they should set them down or sip once before leaving.
“Ahem.” Meng Qi, still in the old man’s guise, spoke slowly, “If things end up bearing no fruit, Tao Niangzi need not be disheartened. In dire peril, it just means we must find several ways.”
Tao Niangzi breathed a sigh of relief, saw that more and more Fengxing Pavilion members outside were waiting to report, felt it inappropriate to linger, set down the teacup, and left with her cousin.
Inside, the atmosphere became even more tense. Qiu Jing noticed the purple soft sword at Meng Qi’s waist, as well as the familiar pack on Mo Li’s back, and wondered how they had reclaimed those items and where they had been stored before.
From the moment he entered, Mo Li’s gaze had fixed on the sand table in the middle of the square table.
Red flags were stuck all over, extending from Yizhou in many directions. Jingzhou’s army had collapsed as fast as a landslide; within just a few days, they had lost a third of their territory.
“Was the Tianshou King really commanding only one hundred thousand troops?”
Not only did they wreak havoc like locusts, but their speed was astonishing, as if they had wings.
The moment people left, Meng Qi discarded his frail, elderly act. He paced with a vigorous stride, looking nothing like an old man now. Apart from his unchanged face, the Fengxing Pavilion crowd nearly suspected he was someone else.
“Look carefully. There’s no large city here.”
Meng Qi knew the sand table like the back of his hand and found Fengxing Pavilion’s craftsmanship commendable. Ordinary martial folk would not have had this kind of skill.
“On one hand, the Tianshou King’s troops did not remain in the cities they seized. On the other hand, the Jingzhou army merely stayed behind their walls, abandoning the civilians outside, while the Tianshou King refused to spend time on these turtle shells and simply pressed on quickly.”
With a casual gesture, Meng Qi’s finger traced a path on the table. In Mo Li’s eyes, the previously solid-red area suddenly became a coherent route.
Qiu Jing felt a twinge of surprise, then quickly nodded in understanding:
“Indeed, worthy of National Preceptor Meng. Even without reading the frontline dispatches, you predicted correctly.”
At that moment, messages arrived one after another from various sects, and as Qiu Jing scanned them, her hand trembled in anger.
“Pavilion Master?”
“……The marauders slaughtered freely, looting the countryside, and the citizens could not flee in time.”
Qiu Jing pressed a hand to the table, forced herself to steady her voice, and said wearily, “Apart from a handful of major sect disciples like those from the Hengshan Sect, over a dozen other gangs have begun withdrawing.”
“What?” The surrounding Fengxing Pavilion members were all shocked.
Meng Qi’s face darkened. Mo Li hesitated, then took the stack of messages Qiu Jing handed over.
Some towns and villages were almost destroyed after surviving multiple waves of marauders. There was hardly any shelter left, and those marauders seemed insane, unafraid of death or injury. The big sects had yet to take casualties, but smaller factions had already lost people. The appearance of the Holy Lotus Sect only made it worse.
“In haste, Fengxing Pavilion and various sects have gathered roughly four hundred disciples and heroes from the martial world… plus those who arrived in the past few days, totaling over seven hundred. Nearly half of Jiangnan’s forces. Yet scattered across Jingzhou, they vanished like clay oxen entering the sea…”
Qiu Jing stared at the sand table, her fist clenching.
She had never thought these forces alone could turn the tide, but not even rescuing people was easy.
Could this truly be fate?
Meng Qi closed his eyes for a moment and spoke in a low voice, “We must intercept the Tianshou King’s main force. He’s discarding everything else and marching toward Nanping County, where the King of Jing is stationed.”
“Report——”
Just then, someone burst inside. The newcomer paused upon seeing Meng Qi and Mo Li, but quickly went on: “Pavilion Master, Senior Wang and the others failed in their attempt. The ten who went to assassinate the Tianshou King… all of them… we discovered their bodies during the search after the Tianshou King’s army broke camp.”
