From Daliang to Xinzheng was a mere two days' journey; from Xinzheng to Taiyi Mountain, less than half a month. Yet whether as a transmigrator or the Human Sect's leader, Han bore witness to a nexus of the Hundred Schools—a realm where a kingdom's twilight birthed demons and prodigies alike. As the adage went: the whale falls, and all things thrive. How much more so for an entire nation?
In this era's Xinzheng, two overt powers clashed on the surface: Ji Wuye's Nightfall Curtain and the Quicksand forged by Han Fei upon his return from Confucian studies. After unmasking Shui Xiao Jin and reclaiming the embezzled military funds, Han Fei had naturally ascended to Minister of Justice—akin to a latter-day Minister of Public Security.
"Master, why the disguises?"
"Xinzheng teems with hidden agents of the Hundred Schools. Better to veil ourselves."
Beyond Xinzheng's walls, a middle-aged man of some forty winters escorted a young woman in her early twenties, their steps measured toward the city gates.
"Poison—rank and foul!" The man inhaled sharply; a faint, acrid stench lingered in the air, diluted but unmistakable.
"Not ordinary venom—snake-like, laced with herbal compounds. Instant lethality." He drew a dagger, prying at a tree trunk to flake off charred bark, veined with lingering green—the toxin yet unspent.
"What poison's this vicious? Corroding even wood?" The girl pointed at the blackened scar. Common poisons lacked such bite, yet this devoured timber; imagine its toll on flesh—death, unyielding.
"Let's go." The man buried the bark deep, lest some passerby brush it and perish.
At Xinzheng's south gate, armored troops cordoned a barren plot—evidently a makeshift camp.
"The miasma seeped from here. Something foul within." The man eyed the encircled site. From afar, blackened corpses twisted in agony, hinting at horrors endured in their final throes.
A crowd of onlookers thronged the gate, buzzing with speculation.
"Pardon, elder—what's transpired?" The man queried an innkeepish oldster.
The elder sized up the father-daughter pair—polite folk—and softened: "This was a haven for Baiyue refugees, a hundred-odd souls encamped temporary-like. Last night, some wretched soul poisoned the lot—wiped 'em out root and stem. Ninth Prince Han Fei—our new Minister of Justice—sealed it swift."
"My thanks, elder." The man bowed, then led the girl away.
"Master, who could be so merciless? Poisoning a hundred lives in a night. What grudge demands a clan's annihilation?" The girl seethed. Clan wipes stoked loathing; a whole people's? Unfathomable enmity.
"Once, a crown prince scorned his realm's growth, chasing eccentrics to swell his retinue. One day, his kingdom fell; he, a captive. Escaping chains, he spied his folk reduced to beggars under foreign yoke. No self-reckoning—instead, he deemed them traitors. Slaughtered them all." The man's tale carried a chill edge of murder.
"Master—you mean these Baiyue folk fell to their own ex-prince's venom?" The girl caught on.
As commoners, they sought mere survival—what sin in that? A prince failing to shield borders, then heaping conquest's bile on his own? Such a heir, such a king—these refugees' pity.
"Come—into the city." The man spared the camp one last glance, ushering her through the gates.
Xinzheng, Han's capital: a splendor of gables and finery. From Zhou's enfeoffments, it stood grand; dubbed "New Zheng" for supplanting Spring-Autumn Zheng's seat. Post-Jin's triad split, it claimed Han's throne—hence the rename.
Gazing upon it, the Warring States' fray dawned here; unification's spark too. Heaven's wheel turns merry—cycles of strife and merge, born here, to end here.
"Master?" The girl nudged the lost-in-thought man.
"Know you when the lords' contentions truly began?" he asked her.
"No." She leaned in, eager for his lore.
"After Zhou's king fled to Luoyang, imperial awe waned—yet his writ still bound the feudatories. Till King Huan's Zheng campaign: routed homeward, lords flocked to Duke Zhuang of Zheng. Kingship's luster dimmed; the age of rivalries dawned. Right here, before us." The man intoned. And unification? From these stones too. Thus the great tide's ebb and flow—yet heaven's jest: from this, to this.
First sight in Xinzheng: beyond the central Han palace, a lesser tower loomed—Sparrow Pavilion.
The man, needless to say, was the disguised Human Sect leader Wuchenzi—Li Haime. The girl: Xue Nu. The mature guise? Inevitable—a Unity of Heaven and Man master, youth unmarred? A beacon screaming "Human Sect head." Xue Nu stayed maiden-fresh, her snow locks dyed raven; broach age with a woman, and invite doom—let alone aging her to crone.
Into Xinzheng: tracing Daoist markers, they swiftly found the city steward—a disciple named Mo, proprietor of a tailor's shop.
"Greetings, Sect Leader!" Mo bowed, awed—to glimpse the head in flesh, and glean his wisdom?
"Secure us a secluded yard— we'll linger awhile." Li Haime instructed.
Mo moved like wind; soon, a standalone courtyard in Xinzheng's hush—near the officials' quarter, yet serene. Once a noble's holding, fallen to ruin and sold; Mo had snapped it up.
"Han's lay of the land?" Li Haime queried.
"General Ji Wuye grips the reins; Chancellor Zhang Kaidi counters via the civil bureaucracy. Ji's arms: Nightfall Curtain and jianghu's Hundred Birds. Nightfall's Four Fiends: Blood-Clad Marquis Hou Bai Yifei, Jade Tiger on Stone, Azure Sea Tide Witch, Straw-Clad Guest by Night." Mo outlined.
"Blood-Clad Marquis Bai Yifei: hereditary noble, but earned his seal in blood. Commands Han's 100,000 levy, plus Blood-Clad Fortress's White Armor legion. Azure Sea Tide Witch: untraced—rumored a palace consort. Jade Tiger on Stone: hoards Han's wealth, rivaling the throne's coffers. Straw-Clad Guest by Night: shadow unseen, Nightfall's eyes and ears. Together, they lock Han's military, governance, riches, and secrets in Ji's fist." Mo elaborated.
"Hundred Birds: Nightfall's blades-for-hire, avian codenames for Ji's dirty deeds—culling foes in shadow. Dual heads: Ink Crow, Xinzheng-bound; Crimson Owl, abroad." Mo detailed the assassins.
Li Haime nodded—such quartet: no wonder Ji's hailed Han's mightiest in a century.
"Latest stirrings?" Li Haime recalled the gateside grimness.
"Xinzheng's winds twist wild: Han's ghost soldiers passage-granted, 100,000 in funds vanished. Then Ninth Prince Han Fei—back from Little Sage Village—unravels it, vaults to Minister of Justice." Mo recapped.
"And the south gate poisoning?" Li Haime pressed.
"Baiyue machinations. King An, as crown prince, allied Chu to raze Baiyue—Prince Tian Ze captured, caged... then inexplicably freed. Tian Ze's quartet oddities: Hundred Poisons King, venom virtuoso—the gate's work his. Corpse-Driver Fiend, puppeteer of cadavers and curses; Flame Spirit Ji, fire-seductress; Matchless Ghost, iron-skinned behemoth of brawn." Mo relayed fresh dispatches.
"Han Fei—you've not probed?" Li Haime asked. Recall: Quicksand's his by now.
"Ninth Prince Han Fei: shadowed by adepts. Traced thus far: Guiguzi's Zongheng demon-blade Shark Teeth Wei Zhuang; Chancellor Zhang Kaidi's grandson Zhang Liang; one intel vein, source elusive." Mo reported.
Li Haime nodded—no faulting him. Zi Nu runs a pleasure den; sending Daoists to brothels? Awkward. This haul's feat enough.
"Hundred Schools' presences?" Li Haime continued.
"Confucian Zhang Kaidi: Han's Chancellor. Farmers' Shennong Hall—here,潛 Dragon Hall; Zhu clan's likely arrived. Mohist overseer Shen; knight-errant Jing Ke; Yin-Yang Eastern Sovereign; Farmers' turncoat Black Swordmaster Sheng Qi. Luo Net's Rank-Zi killer Eight Mechanisms; Heaven-Rank slayer Veil the Sun. More pending." Mo listed.
"Veil the Sun?" Li Haime startled. Last-gen Sword Saint slew him—shattered his blade. A successor so soon?
"Mm. Whispers: Luo Net fractures—half under Long Lao Ai, half Lü Buwei's. Eight Mechanisms: Lao Ai's blade. Veil the Sun too, perchance; Xianyang murmurs even peg him as Lao Ai himself." Mo added.
Li Haime reeled—Veil the Sun is Lao Ai? Plausible. Pre-Zhao Ji's bedwarmer and marquis, Lao Ai was Lü's guard—Qin's top swordsman. Luo Net's Veil? Fits like glove.
"Celestial Sect's state? Xiaomeng emerged?" Li Haime shifted.
"Celestial's Wonder Terrace sealed—disciples barred. Faint fusion stirrings, thrice; still secluded." Mo said.
Li Haime nodded, unease gnawing. Human Sect relic and Wonder Terrace, yet failures thrice—what Dao does she chase? Perilous? Yearn to return... but fusion's solitary forge—self-reliant. Pondering profits naught.
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