The flames in the brazier roared fiercely, yet the firelight couldn’t illuminate the depths of the room’s darkness.
A person stood in that darkness, dressed in red robes that covered his feet, a cloak veiling his face, revealing only half of a bronze mask with strange patterns.
Kneeling before him were several men dressed as ordinary citizens. They held wooden trays filled with paper fragments, torn cloth, even scraps of peeled-off wall plaster. Each item bore the imprint of an eight-petaled red lotus, some neat, some scrawled, but all pieced together with bloody fingerprints.
“These were left by our brothers before they were captured—to show their devotion to the Void Sect and their loyalty to the Sect Master. Some were thrown into prison, some died as martyrs on the spot. Now our sect’s foundation in the capital is shaking, the losses are severe, most of our followers have deserted, and there are even traitors who defected and led the Imperial Guards to destroy our strongholds… We humbly beg the Messenger to report this to the Sect Master and plead for a way forward for us!”
The men kowtowed repeatedly.
The red-robed figure remained silent for a moment, then spoke in a genderless voice: “I understand. I will report this to the Sect Master immediately. Wait patiently for further instructions.”
The men gratefully kowtowed and withdrew.
The red-robed figure slowly picked up the items bearing the blood lotus imprints, then tossed them into the brazier.
“Devotion and loyalty” quickly turned to ashes in the licking flames.
The red-robed figure snorted coldly: “Useless in success, ruinous in failure.” Then turned and vanished into the darkness.
—
Late at night, by the willows along the Tonghui River in the outer city, a man in a straw raincoat and a bamboo hat sat fishing on a stone.
The red-robed figure’s shadow flitted out like a ghost from behind the tree, stopping about ten feet away from the fisherman.
“Such a leisurely mood,” the red-robed figure said. “The capital is in turmoil, yet the Sect Master still finds time to fish at night.”
The fisherman turned his head, the side of his face under the hat bathed in the moonlight reflected off the river, faintly glowing—it was Mr. He. He lightly flicked his green bamboo fishing rod and replied in a refined, clear voice, “Look at this bright moon night, the willows by the river, the shimmering waves—what a fine scene, wouldn’t you say?”
The man in the red robe seemed completely unmoved by all things romantic or beautiful and dryly replied, “Fine.”
“It’s peaceful, isn’t it? Beautiful, as if it can cleanse a person’s soul.”
The man in red gave no response.
Mister He smiled and continued, “Last July, it was this very river where, over the span of several days, hundreds of infant corpses drifted to the surface. So tell me, is it beautiful or putrid? Is it peaceful or deafening?”
“If you have something to say, just say it.” The man in red spoke like a cold, mechanical device.
Mister He lifted his fishing rod, a small silver fish writhing on the hook. Watching the struggling fish, he said softly, “A river is just a river. If I want it to carry corpses and cut off its flow, it will carry corpses and cut off its flow. If I want it to shimmer with gentle waves, it will shimmer with gentle waves. It all depends on how I choose to use it.”
“Then what do you plan to do about this current mess in the capital?” asked the man in red. “The Void Sect has been secretly building its foundation in the capital for years, recruiting a considerable number of followers. Now, because of one Su Yan, the entire operation has collapsed. The tree has fallen, and the monkeys have scattered. As the sect leader, don’t you have more pressing matters than fishing and playing with words?”
Mister He removed the fish from the hook and tossed it into his basket. “Didn’t Lian Yingzhu already handle it for me? First, using the ‘Divine Fire Raven’ to bomb the white banners Su Yan raised, then deploying the Seven Kill Camp to assassinate Su Yan—yet neither succeeded. Oh, and he even lost a meat bun.”
A meat bun thrown to a dog never returns. The man in red knew he was referring to Assassin No. 23—Wuming.
Wuming was the most skilled defector from the Seven Kill Camp. He had planned to extract the last bit of use from him and, after capturing him, force-fed him a secret drug. Those who consumed it would become mindless, blood-eyed assassins who obeyed commands to kill without fail. Yet, after Wuming kidnapped Su Yan, he somehow broke free from this blood-eyed state overnight and returned to Su Yan’s side as his loyal guard dog.
It was a colossal failure for the camp commander—a humiliation. Hearing Mister He mention it so casually, the man in red’s gaze turned cold, his internal energy surging with killing intent. “Don’t forget, I only nominally hold the ‘head preacher’ position within the sect. I’m neither your subordinate nor a believer. Our relationship is a partnership.”
“Given the current situation in the capital, I doubt the Void Sect has the strength to recover, let alone complete the grand plan we agreed upon. I will report everything that’s happened here to my Lord for his decision.”
Mister He rose, a glimpse of his white inner robe showing beneath his woven raincoat. He picked up the fish basket and calmly said, “It is your Lord who collaborates with me. You don’t have that privilege. He sent you to assist me and to follow my commands, not to make your own decisions. Report whatever you like, but from now on, all actions will follow my lead.”
The man in red said nothing, but cold light flashed from within his mask.
Mister He smiled faintly. “What do you say, Camp Commander… Lian Qinghan?”
The camp commander stood as still as a red-robed statue, and after a long silence, a muffled voice came from inside the mask: “Fine.”
Mister He tied the fish basket to his waist, slung the fishing rod over his back like an ordinary fisherman, and walked toward the city in wooden clogs.
Lian Qinghan followed not too close, not too far behind.
The spring night’s softening breeze brushed against Mister He’s temples, stirring strands of his long hair. He spoke as if in casual conversation, or perhaps to himself, “Su Yan is my worthy adversary.”
The camp commander replied, “Shouldn’t worthy adversaries be eliminated as soon as possible?”
Mister He said, “In a game of chess, when you finally meet an evenly matched opponent, wouldn’t it be a waste not to fully enjoy dozens of rounds of fierce battle?”
The camp commander said coldly, “So, just to satisfy your love of the game, you’re willing to risk delaying my Lord’s grand plan? You’ve already lost two major moves. The chessboard itself is about to be overturned. If you keep playing like this, years of effort will be burned to ashes. When that happens, you’ll not only lose everything yourself, but my Lord will be furious. I’ll be punished, and I doubt you’ll come out unscathed either.”
Mister He smiled again, his features softening into a misty ink painting under the moonlight.
“A good chess player doesn’t focus on the gains and losses of a single move. Sometimes, sacrificing a corner can bring an entire board back to life. Su Yan is at his peak now, enjoying the Emperor’s favor and full support. He’s also endlessly resourceful—he’s at the height of his fortune. Since we’ve failed to shake him twice in a row, it’s better to avoid his edge for now.”
“Avoid his edge? Are you planning to abandon this entire foundation in the capital?”
“Not at all,” Mister He explained. “The rumors we spread were just the first step. The explosions on the second day of the second month in the capital and other regions were merely the second step to create momentum. Even if successful, all it does is plant seeds of fear in the hearts of the masses, stirring slight unrest and shaking the people’s trust in the royal family. But winning hearts is fickle and unreliable. To seize power, what we need is the heir position and war.”
“Secure the position of Crown Prince first. Then, ignite several wars simultaneously. Amidst internal and external crises, the opportunity to strike at Emperor Jinglong will arise.”
“The new emperor will take the throne in troubled times. The court will be full of suspicion. At such a moment, we’ll overturn Xin Wang’s case. Using ‘that incident,’ through the old survivors of Qin Wang’s household, we’ll suddenly expose it to the world—causing a nationwide shock!”
“Emperor Jinglong may have decades of unshakable prestige, but what about the new emperor? He’s just a child. If not for his imperial bloodline, who would obey him? If the rumor of the ‘False Dragon’ spreads, do you think the court and the vassal kings across the land will not start scheming? At that time—”
Mister He did not continue, but the camp commander already understood the rest.
Still, he was more concerned with the present than the future. He asked, “Everything you’re planning hinges on the Crown Prince. Yet Zhu Helin’s position is rock solid. You’ve been inside the Wei residence for several months now, but I see no sign of the Second Prince rising. How do you explain that?”
Mister He countered, “Do you really think the Baizhifang explosion was just to confirm the prophecy?”
“Wasn’t it?”
“Of course not,” Mister He said leisurely, stepping on the fresh green grass of early spring as he walked toward the inner city.
At the city gate, two low-ranking soldiers saw him and not only didn’t question him but proactively opened the gate to let him in. Mister He lightly tapped their brows with his fingers and softly whispered, “Eternal and unbroken.”
The two young soldiers were so moved that their eyes filled with tears. They knelt and earnestly replied, “All Dharma is but Void!”
The city gate slowly closed behind them.
Mr. He didn’t continue the previous conversation. Instead, he asked the Commander, “What’s your plan for Su Yan?”
The Commander replied, “Wuming betrayed the Seven Kill Camp for him. Both of them must die. If necessary, I can personally take action.”
Mr. He smiled slightly. “I already said his fortune is currently at its peak. If you don’t believe me, you can try again. I’ve heard he’s injured and sick, currently recuperating at his own residence. If you can kill him directly, it’ll save me quite a bit of trouble.”
Su Residence was now tightly guarded by imperial bodyguards and the Embroidered Uniform Guards, like an iron fortress. By his side, there was also Wuming, a martial artist thoroughly familiar with the techniques of the Seven Kill Camp. The Commander quickly calculated: if all remaining Seven Kills assassins were deployed to pin down the bodyguards, while he personally fought Wuming and swiftly killed Su Yan before reinforcements arrived, there was still a sixty to seventy percent chance of success.
He said, “Just watch me.”
Mr. He leisurely added, “There’s also Yu Wang by Su Yan’s side. I hear the two are very close.”
The Commander paused slightly. “Zhu Xujing… the former commander of the Jingbei Army.”
“Even the Bewitching Sound technique couldn’t take hold of him, which means his martial skills have not only remained strong over the past ten years but have likely improved. With him involved, are you truly confident you can kill Su Yan and escape safely from all those layers of defense?”
The Commander fell silent, then said after a pause, “They can guard him for a while, but not forever. Unless Su Yan hides in his house for the rest of his life, the moment he shows himself, there will be an opening to strike.”
“That’s true,” Mr. He said, “but if you act now, won’t all my efforts with the piece named Shen Qi be wasted? If he learns that Su Yan died at the hands of the Seven Kill Camp, he’ll surely become a mad dog and drag us to h*ll with him. I still have great use for him; I must keep him alive for now.”
The Commander said, “It’s not as though Shen Qi is the only possible secret pawn you can plant among the court officials.”
“Shen Qi’s position, temperament, methods, his tangled relationship with Su Yan, and Emperor Jinglong’s attitude towards him—all these form a delicate triangle that makes him more suited than anyone else for this role.”
Although Mr. He insisted on using Shen Qi, the Commander was suspicious. Based on Mr. He’s cautious habits, it was likely he had planted more than one secret pawn in the imperial court. The reason he disclosed Shen Qi was probably because Shen Qi had been drawn in with the help of the Seven Kill Camp’s power, and Mr. He had no choice but to reveal it.
This kind of half-revealing, half-concealing style made the Commander inwardly displeased and further suspicious that this so-called “cooperation” with his superior might not be entirely in good faith.
But he had no authority to interrogate Mr. He and could only report everything to his superiors.
Mr. He’s steps seemed slow and relaxed, but the distance he covered with each step was astonishing. It was unclear which movement technique he used, but it had the feel of “shrinking the ground into inches.” Before long, they arrived near Marquis Xianan’s residence. Mr. He said, “No need to escort me any further.”
They both knew the Commander had only accompanied him to pry for information, so saying this was rather pointed. The Commander let out a cold snort and vanished into the dark alleyway.
Mr. He knocked a few times at the door. The servant who answered beamed at him. “Sir, you’ve returned! Judging by your outfit, you went fishing by the river?”
Mr. He took off his bamboo hat and rain cape and handed them over, smiling warmly. “Just a whim. Sorry to trouble you to open the door.”
The servant quickly replied, “Not at all, not at all. Sir’s fishing basket feels heavy. Looks like you had a good catch.”
Mr. He lifted out a grass carp about a foot long from the basket and handed it to him. “This is the biggest one. A gift for you.”
The servant waved his hands in refusal. “I can’t accept that. Sir worked hard to catch these fish. How could I take one? Why don’t I bring this to the kitchen and make a late-night snack for you?”
“You’ve never heard the saying, ‘The drunkard’s interest isn’t in the wine,’ have you? In the same way, a fisherman’s goal isn’t the fish. Just take it. If you keep refusing, it’s no fun.”
Seeing that he couldn’t refuse, the servant accepted the fish, thanking him repeatedly.
Mr. He, now carrying the much lighter fish basket, walked away with his white robes fluttering in the wind. The servant murmured behind him, “Truly a benevolent, saint-like man.”
Returning to his own chamber, Mr. He went to the wardrobe in the corner, opened it, and once again retrieved the rattan box.
He unlocked the mechanism on the box, opened it slightly, and carefully placed the small, finger-sized silver fish one by one inside.
The fish were still alive, flopping on the wood shavings at the bottom of the box, making soft rustling and thumping sounds. But soon, the noises grew weaker and finally disappeared. The box became quiet again.
Mr. He put his palms together and sighed. “All beings suffer. H*ll is ever-present.”
He walked to the shelf in the corner, washed his hands in the basin, dried them with a white cotton towel, and sat back down at his desk.
On a spread-out sheet of white paper, he wrote the characters for “dust explosion” in flowing, ethereal handwriting. He drew a circle beside it and wrote the word “deception” inside, then gently blew the ink dry.
On the desk was an open case containing a blood scripture and a handwritten copy of the Crown Prince’s famous essay Memorial for My Late Mother. Mr. He placed the newly written paper inside, closed the lid.
Next to it was an unfinished game of Go. He casually picked up a white stone, seemed to think of something, lowered his gaze with a slight smile, and softly said to his invisible opponent across the board, “You’ve played two excellent moves in a row. Now, it’s my turn.”
