Plum blossoms flourished in the courtyard, falling everywhere on the ground, on the snow that was yet to melt, blending together at first glance. The petals were blown around the yard leisurely by the wind.

Dusk fell like a curtain, and on the eaves the moon was as cold as water.

At the far back of the small courtyard, half hidden by the plum blossom tree was a corner gate, looking like it had been there for a long time. Guarded by two well-built men steeled in armors and weapons, inside the door was a distinctly large space. The veranda was narrow and cramped, towering over a stone-paved path which led into a pitch-black prison. The atmosphere was somber and heavy with the stench of death.

The faint smell of the blossoms was seemingly cut off by the door, unable to reach this place at all.

More guards inside with various weapons stood stock still; the bars of the cells they were protecting as thick as a grown man’s arm.

Following the dark, narrow path further inside the prison would be met with three large stone doors with mechanisms inside, each carefully guarded. Behind those doors was completely devoid of mortal life, as if the long path leading here had been the road to the underworld full of wronged souls, lit up by flickering lights that looked like will-o’-wisps.

In the cell at the end of the prison, there was a low male voice saying something, followed by a short silence and ostensibly a tired sigh.

Suddenly, a piercing scream cut through the pitch darkness in the prison, dimming the light for a split second. The scream was terribly ear-splitting, like that of a dying animal, giving any human soul the chills.

One of the two guards outside with their back towards the cell seemed to be fresh blood with his young, inexperienced expressions. He could not help but shiver after hearing the scream, but a glance at his companion showed the other playing deaf, standing as straight as a mountain; so he too recomposed and looked down.

But that scream just got shriller and went on longer, the person kept screaming until their voice gave out and their breath became short, and eventually the scream became moans and sobs, further evidence of their misery.

The newcomer felt continuous goosebumps on his body.

After about an hour1, the sound finally died down. A short time passed by until a middle-aged man was dragged out by two people, looking half dead. His arms were bare, head lolled to one side, hair sweat-soaked, lips bitten raw, blood foaming at the corner of his mouth, no visible injuries save for the seven major acupuncture points on his stomach and chest, which were stabbed into by deep crimson nails. It looked like a horrifying map.

The young guard couldn’t help but follow the man with his eyes until he disappeared behind a stone door.

At that moment, someone behind him said, “Do you have regrets now, having seen that?” He visibly shook with fear, turning back to see a man in turquoise robes silently appearing behind him for heavens knew how long. The other guard had already knelt, so he quickly followed suit, “My lord.” The man in robes seemed to be in his late twenties, carrying himself with a scholarly grace, but there were traces of sickness on his complexion. His face was sharp, eyes bright, thick eyelashes seemingly hiding half of his face when he looked down, which was a common habit. The rare times the man looked up, a chilling cold in his eyes could be seen. The addition of an elegance slope of nose and a contemptuous curl of lips was a treacherous touch to his handsome look.

The man looked at the younger after noticing the honorifics, smiling gently, “You must be new?” The young man nodded. “Yes, my lord.” He was then patted twice on the shoulder, “Then you must remember never to call me that from now on, the title is no longer mine. Simply call me Sir Zhou next time.” The young man looked up quickly then down again with respect. “Yes, Sir Zhou.” He nodded, waving his arms, “You two can leave, I want some space for myself.”

The two guards obeyed and walked out side by side. The younger one sill could not help but look back for a second to see the robed man leaning on the doorframe, his eyes gazing at something in the air but also nothing at the same time. Somehow he thought the man looked like he wanted to leave for somewhere really far away.

After the first iron door was let down, the old guard beside him suddenly spoke in a low voice, “Having seen Sir all amiable and gracious and scholarly, will you believe that he’s the one who put the ‘Nails of Seven Apertures for Three Autumns’ into Old Bi?” The younger looked at him in shock, and the white-haired old man sighed: “There’re still a lot you don’t understand. If you enter ‘Tian Chuang’ there’s no way out, escape will only result in either death or being completely disabled.” By Year 4 under the Rong Jia reign of Da Qing, just by hearing the name ‘Tian Chuang’ could make the whole court quiver in fear.

An organization of intelligence gatherers and assassins loyal only to the Emperor, there was no information of their numbers or whereabouts ­ no doubt their power could extend to the end of the earth. Tian Chuang was formed by Emperor He Lianyi of House Rong back when he was the Crown Prince, and by now it was already fully structured and strictly regulated.

And the first ever leader of Tian Chuang was the man in the turquoise robes, former Lord of Si Ji Holdings: “Sir Zhou” Zhou Zishu.

There were no secrets in Tian Chuang whether it was about court business or peasant problems; therefore one of its rules was that if a person could still talk, they could not leave the organization unless they were dead or asked for the Nails themselves.

The “Nails of Seven Apertures for Three Autumns” punishment meant that the person would be stabbed by poisonous nails into the seven most important acupuncture points on their upper body by internal force,2 blocking their Eight Meridians,3 crippling their martial art skills and their ability to speak or move; after three years, the poison would fully spread into their viscera and they would kick the bucket.

They would live their lives without purpose in those three years, and the experience made it worse than death itself.

But even then, there were still some voluntarily wanting to be put in near coma just to leave Tian Chuang.

Those three years for them were the greatest favor.

After dismissing everyone, Zhou Zishu returned to the small cell, closing the door, hands behind his back, pacing around in deep thoughts for a while. Then he stopped at a corner of the room, taking out a small box with the Nails inside. Those terrifying tiny things carried a grim aroma not unlike plum blossoms. Zhou Zishu inhaled deeply, then undid his robes.

He looked relatively well-built, but once the robes were removed, a shriveled body came into view, like something had drained life completely out of it. On his haggard frame were six Nails already being put in for apparently a long time ago, having almost become one with the flesh.

He looked down at his body, smiling at himself mockingly and picking up a knife nearby. Slightly gritting his teeth, he made quick work of cutting away the flesh that clung to the nails as if it’s not flesh of his own. His chest was quickly soaked in blood, but the nails looked new again.

Like something was let loose, he cried out in pain, weakly leaning onto the wall in the corner and slowly sliding down, body trembling uncontrollably. His lips were deathly pale, teeth still gritted; then he suddenly convulsed, eyes wide open then slowly closed right after, head twisted to one side.

Blanched and covered in blood, he looked like a corpse.

Only until dawn broke did the man coiled in the corner of the cell twitch. His eyes then opened slowly and he tried to get up, but his weak legs gave out and he fell. He somewhat managed to stand after the second attempt, pulling out a cloth and dipping it in water to wipe away most of the blood on his chest with care. He redressed, picking up a nail to hide in his robes.

Breathing in deeply, he opened the cell door and walked outside.

Leaving the prison to go towards the courtyard with the blossoms and snow, Zhou Zishu felt a relaxing aroma soaking deep into him, cleansing the stench of blood. He stood under the plum blossom tree for a good while, smelling the flowers, unconsciously smiling.

Then he went back to sighing, and spoke lowly, “Anyone here?” A person clad in black emerged from nowhere, body bent down in waiting for their orders. Zhou Zishu handed them a dull-colored command token and said, “Tell Head Butler Duan to accompany me in meeting His Majesty

They took the token, then vanished the way they appeared, as if they never existed.

Head Butler Duan Pengju was promoted by Zhou Zishu himself after the latter took over Tian Chuang and operated under his orders only; he was both capable and unabashedly ambitious.

Sometimes, Zhou Zishu saw the younger version of himself in this man.

Quickly enough, he was greeted by Duan Pengju with the token. The latter was confused; since people in the organization rarely revealed themselves, with the exception of their leader they didn’t get many chances to see His Majesty.

Zhou Zishu didn’t say much, but let him stay for breakfast. “Let’s go,” he said afterwards, reckoning that the Emperor would hold an early court meeting.

On the way to the palace, though Duan Pengju didn’t know exactly what his master’s intention was, he followed silently.

The two finally reached the Emperor’s study, and as His Majesty He Lianyi was already waiting, he sent them in immediately. After the greetings, Zhou Zishu took out a bamboo tube from his sleeve and presented it to He Lianyi. “Your Majesty, here is the result of the last mission.” He Lianyi tooked it but was in no hurry to look through, instead he sized up Zhou Zishu, frowning, “You are looking increasingly unwell lately; it is important that you call for the royal physician after this. Do not just rely on your youthful strength and overlook any internal injuries.” Zhou Zishu smiled but didn’t nod, only replying, “I am undeserved of Your Majesty’s worry.” He Lianyi glanced at Duan Pengju and asked after minutes of surprise, “Why is Pengju here too? It has been a while since I last saw you, still in high spirit I see.” Duan Pengju smiled, eyes narrowed, “It is my great honor that I am still in Your Majesty’s thoughts.” He Lianyi sensed that Zhou Zishu had something else to report to him, so he entertained the business with the bamboo tube first, extracting a small note from inside. Skimming through quickly with a smile on his face, he raised his head at Zhou Zishu. “It was perfectly executed. With what do you want to be rewarded this time, Zishu?” ----This was it.

Zhou Zishu suddenly knelt, Duan Pengju in tow since the latter didn’t know what else to do.

He Lianyi frowned, “What are you doing?” Zhou Zishu was almost out of breath, replying softly, “I only dare ask one favor from Your Majesty.” He Lianyi laughed, “No need to kneel. After having risked your life and limb for me; with the exception of this nation, do you really think I wouldn’t give you anything of your desire? Just stand up and speak.” Zhou Zishu straightened his back, still kneeling. Then he quietly removed the front layers of thick robes, and the smell of blood was instantly in everyone’s face. His recently scabbed wounds were bleeding again, possibly from the rocky horse ride.

“Zishu!” He Lianyi sprung up from his seat.

Duan Pengju was terrified into silence.

Zhou Zishu opened his slender palm, on which a single nail rested. “Your Majesty, I have put in six of them myself. The seventh one will render me unable to take care of royal matters; I hereby come to say farewell, and only ask that Your Majesty lets Pengju carry out my request.” He Lianyi was dumbfounded, words unable to come out. After a long while, he sat back dejectedly, craning up to stare at the beams on the study’s ceiling, muttering, “Yun Xing was faraway at the northwest, Beiyuan… Beiyuan is here no more, now even you are leaving me?” Zhou Zishu stayed silent.

After moments of contemplation, He Lianyi sighed, seemingly said, “I am really alone, aren’t I.” Zhou Zishu continued: “Your Majesty needs not to worry about Tian Chuang. Pengju has been assisting me for years, I believe in his capability…” Duan Pengju interrupted: “My lord! You must not say that, never have I had such intentions… You… You cannot…” Zhou Zishu whispered, “They are the Nails of Seven Apertures for Three Autumns, I will eventually die after three years. The bow has already been drawn, it won’t be stopped----”

He bowed to He Lianyi, refusing to look up even after he’s done, “Please take all the years I have been in Your Majesty’s servitude into consideration, and have my wish fulfilled.” He Lianyi rigidly stared at the blood-soaked man, and in that moment no one knew what this fair emperor was thinking -- the cautiousness, the crafted calculations, the old flames of war, the bitter struggles, all those years… He eventually claimed the throne, but everyone had all passed away, leaving him alone.

No one could escape all the inevitability of this world, or the abandonment of time.

After a long while, he closed his eyes, waving his arm.

The corner of Zhou Zishu’s lips raised into a smile, “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He looked like he had come across the funniest tale, sickly pale complexion flushing faintly. With great delight, he turned to Duan Pengju, putting the nails into the latter’s palms, “Do it.” Duan Pengju hesitated for a while, then bit his lips, raising the vaguely crimson object and nailing it into his lord’s body. After years of witnessing, he knew this process would bring great pain, to the point that even the strongest man would cower and scream; but Zhou Zishu only trembled a little, his body still stiff straight. There was no screaming, only occasional inaudible groans.

And even those groans seemed to contain joy.

Duan Pengju thought his lord must have gone mad.

Zhou Zishu stayed still for a long time, then turned to He Lianyi with his head down, his face as white as paper.

The strength in his body was slowly diminishing, the numbness creeping in. His last words were, “Your Majesty must take care.” Without waiting for an answer from He Lianyi, he walked out of the study, all the baggage over the years now light as feather. His silhouette seemed to flash for a moment, and he vanished without a trace.

There was a secret about the Nails that no one knew but Zhou Zishu, and from then on this secret might as well be buried with him and a rare few -- if all seven had been nailed in at the same time while the person was unwell, even someone with profound strength like Zhou Zishu would only have had one mere breath left to depart from the palace; worse, he would probably become a lifeless lump of flesh before he could even cross the gate.

But if you did one every three months, letting the body adapt to the nails until you couldn’t tell them apart on your body -- even though death would still be inevitable in three years and there would be an excruciating eighteen months of pain -- you would retain at least half of your core strength and could still behave like a completely normal person.

The method was said to drive people crazy with agony; but Zhou Zishu merrily found out that the rumor was unfounded after all. Not only was he still sane, he also felt like there was no other time in his life that he was this happy and at peace.

Those who have left Tian Chuang actually still had their every move monitored; information about who they were, when they left or where they died all recorded in details. The organization was like a giant spider web, from which escape was futile until you drew the last breath.

Fortunately for him, after a life of sacrifice he had gathered quite a few loyal ones.

Zhou Zishu, trained by the Emperor to be a master of all trades for the position of Tian Chuang’s leader, was highly skilled in martial arts and disguise; it was impossible to recognize him the moment he joined a crowd.

And so the once most frightening individual in the palace vanished; in his place a free-spirited, miserable-looking wanderer riding a thin horse, gnawing a straw in his mouth while humming folk songs.

He became the first to actually get away from the network just like that.

On his face was a not quite refined mask painted with sickly-colored blotches, so that at first glance he looked like someone on the brink of death. After checking himself out while drinking water from the river bank, he felt this appearance suited his situation all too well, and the more he looked at the disguise the more satisfied he was with it. He conveniently stole a plain set of clothes from a farmer’s house by the road, his robes removed and burned, an old flask tied around his waist, half-full with unfiltered rice wine.

Zhou Zishu -- after realizing that his name was never once used during all those years perpetually hidden in the dark corners of the palace -- gleefully discarded any plans of using an alias and marched on his journey right away.

He also didn’t mind what his destination would be. Jiangnan seemed like a good place, so he decided to travel there, maybe do some robbery along the way to help the poor and to simply scrape by. He passed by Kaifeng and Penglai, and after a leisurely three months, finally seeing the colorful scenery of Jiangnan for himself.

He snuck in the most famous tavern’s wine cellar right way, trying all the sweet cassia wine and drowning himself in a drunken stupor. He felt elated and floaty, like there was no greater joy in life than this.

Ten days later, after almost getting caught, he came to the conclusion that while the wine was good, its taste had become stale and a bit uninteresting; so he left the place with some silver crumbs4 behind.

After those ten days he looked even worse, his appearance wretched and face evidently ill. The emaciation, the wine-reeking clothes and the untamed bird’s nest hair completed his beggar look.

Which was why when he was sitting by the roadside sunbathing, a young chubby girl skipped her way around him, holding a copper coin in her palm but not knowing where to drop it in. After brief inspection, she asked, “Hey uncle,5 where’s your bowl?” She was immediately taken away by an adult relative, leaving him unsure whether to laugh or cry.

Years have passed, most of his acquaintance gone, some in worry, some dead, some exiled from home. Zhou Zishu leaned onto a wall, stretching his arms and legs, contently bathing under the warm sunlight, humor curled at the corner of his lips. He started to think about what his desire really was after all this time.

Back when he was still green, he always regarded himself as someone superior, welcoming any praises possible for himself: how smart he was, how cunning6 he was, how good he was at martial arts, how knowledgeable; as if not trying to achieve something in his lifetime would be the biggest waste for humanity. But now that he thought of it, what exactly did he want?

And what had he lost?

He had thrown away his freedom to serve royalty in the dark; his life in a neverending circle, anything he ever owned had to become compensations for the acts he had committed. Now he was just a loner with empty hands, having racked his brain for a triumphant escape plan that put his life at risk. He even thought it was so smart of him to have succeeded.

He suddenly pitied himself, feeling like the most foolish man even in the most foolish world.

How long had it been since he let himself simply bask in the sun by the road like this? It was terribly amusing that the pedestrians walking by in haste seemed to be in an even greater hurry than him ­ a half dead person.

In a nearby tavern, a bright female voice rung out, “Master,7 would you look at that man! If he’s a beggar, why doesn’t he own a mere broken bowl? If he isn’t, then why does he keep sitting there the whole morning doing nothing and smiling foolishly? He must be an idiot, don’t you think?” Even though Zhou Zishu only retained half of his martial art skills, his hearing was as excellent as ever. The girl was a noisy road away and her voice at a medium volume, but he didn’t miss a single word nonetheless.

Before he could get a chance to silently mock himself, he heard a male voice replying, “He’s just sunbathing.” The voice was deep, very pleasant to the ears, with every word enunciated slowly and clearly.

Zhou Zishu couldn’t help but raise his head. On the second floor of the tavern facing him were a pretty young lady in purple leaning over the balcony and a man sitting next to her dressed in gray. The latter had a wan complexion, dark eyesseeming like they could swallow all brightness, features very distinct; he actually did not look too human. Zhou Zishu met his eyes the moment he looked up.

The man in gray returned the look before turning his head away with no expressions on his face, his focus back on the food.

Zhou Zishu burst out laughing, thinking about how in this vast sea of strangers, he somehow still found someone who understood.

The girl in purple was still staring at him up and down with her bright eyes. After a good while, she could no longer suppress her curiosity, informing the accompanying man about something then jumping downstairs excitedly, strolling to Zhou Zishu, “Hey mister beggar, how about I treat you to a meal?” Zhou Zishu regarded her lazily, shaking his head, “I’d rather you bought me wine, charitable young miss.” The girl laughed gracefully, turning back to her master to shout, “Master, this fool called me a charitable person!” Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to listen, paying her no attention. The sky could collapse right then and he would still be more concerned about his meal.

She asked again, “Everyone else would have asked for food, what’s so good about wine that makes you crave it this much? Will drinking make you full?” Seeing that she was very pretty, he couldn’t stop himself from joking around, “Wine can attract beautiful ladies, don’t you know?” The answer surprised the girl. She then giggled uncontrollably, body shaking with laughter. Zhou Zishu felt like lady luck had smiled on him, as Jiangnan was truly full of beauty. He admired her, sighing, “Dear utmost beautiful one, have pity on this poor old man.8 It’s not nice to laugh at people’s misery, young miss.” Once more she was surprised. “Yah, you’re acting scholarly now too?” She squatted down, untying the wine flask around his waist at lightning speed, running back to the tavern and coming out in just minutes.

Zhou Zishu wanted to take it back but she quickly retracted, smiling, “I’m gonna ask you something. If you get it right, I’ll give this back to you and even invite you for more; if you get it wrong, I’m gonna poison this and leave your belly to rot.”

Zhou Zishu laughed helplessly; what a troublesome soul behind a pretty face. He replied, “I won that flask from another old beggar, who knows how many lice are in there. You can take it if you want, I’ll be happier if you do actually.” She rolled her eyes, giggling, “So all this wine I brought you is for nothing? You make me very angry now, I gotta kill you.” This little devil, he thought, what a waste of beauty. He complied, “Go on, ask me then.” “Why are you out here begging if you don’t even have a bowl?” Zhou Zishu stared at her. “Who said I’m begging for anything? I’m simply sunbathing in this corner.” The girl startled, unconsciously looking back at the man on the tavern’s second floor. It’s clear that he had exceptional hearing too, but his movements only stilled for a split second after the conversation. With a straight face, he dove back into his food without a care.

“I don’t see why it’s worth it?” She looked up to stare at the sun, a little confused.

Zhou Zishu shook his head, swiftly snatching the flask back when the girl was letting her guard down, making her exclaim and stare at him in bewilderment. This beggar-lookalike man told her, “You’re still young, miss. You have lots of things you want to do, it’s only natural that you will make use of the time to stuff your belly full, to live your life to the best. Me? I’m already one foot in the grave, what else can I do but drinking and sunbathing in await of my doom?” He downed the flask in one shot, smacking his lips, “Such good wine! Many thanks, young miss!” On instinct, the girl tried to snatch at Zhou Zishu when he was walking away. She considered her kungfu to be quite competent; but unexpectedly, she didn’t manage to even touch him despite the man looking like he was only an arm’s length away. In no time, the beggar disappeared into the crowd, unable to be seen again.

She was about to chase after him when the man upstairs spoke quietly, “Ah-Xiang,9 even if you’re not capable enough, I didn’t know your eyesight’s also that bad. Stop embarrassing yourself further.” His tone was just above a whisper, no strength to it, and yet it traveled from the second floor, across the crowded street to reach the girl’s ears directly. She seemed crestfallen, no longer daring to make any rash decisions in front of her master. She looked back at the pedestrians for a moment before returning to the tavern.

Meanwhile, Zhou Zishu was swaying with his flask on his way toward wherever. Jiangnan was praised to be full of waterways, but while wandering across a small bridge and looking down from there, he found the truth to be a bit of a letdown. Reckoning that no inns would welcome him, he followed along the river bank outside of the city. On the river were small fishing boats which also acted as ferries for passersby.

It was springtime, so the boats were all stuffed full of sightseers. After great difficulty, he finally found a fisherman with his boat docked.

This boat with black sails was right beside other busy ones; it was quite a mystery how unoccupied this one was. On the shore, the fisherman was sprawled out on his back napping, face covered by a straw hat, with only a head of gray hair sticking out. Zhou Zishu went to sit beside him, waiting for the old man to wake up.

But after just minutes, the fisherman was unable to sleep anymore. He yanked the straw hat away from his face, huffing angrily, staring at the younger with great animosity. “Damn it! Don’t you see I’m fucking sleeping?” He cursed.

Zhou Zishu wasn’t at all offended, “Hey old man, wanna do some business?” The fisherman cursed again, “You little shit, is your mouth for speaking or farting? Speak the fuck up if you want to use the boat!” He stood up, stretching and swatting at his ass. But when he noticed that Zhou Zishu was still sitting, his anger exploded again. “Are you glued to the ground now?” Zhou Zishu blinked, suddenly understanding why this one boat was idle compared to others.

He stood up and followed the old man morosely. “Do you have anything to eat? I don’t mind leftover rice,” he asked without shame in between the fisherman’s passionate swearing session.

“A damn reincarnated hungry ghost10 too, huh,” the other one spat.

He fished out a pie with evident teeth marks on it, throwing at the younger. Zhou Zishu giggled, biting into it without a care while walking onto the boat.

The fisherman started rowing away. “Fuck this,” he stole glances at Zhou Zishu, still fuming.

At this point in life Zhou Zishu was not in the least concerned about anything -- he was familiar with courting death, after all; so the fisherman’s vulgarity all fell on deaf ears.

The boat calmly sailed across the water. On the other side of the river, a young woman called out melodiously, “Selling water chestnuts! Do you want some?” It was as if time had slowed down with the river flow to a sluggish speed. Even if I die right here, it’ll be worth it, Zhou Zishu mused.

The idea had crossed him before -- back when he was in the middle of climbing the Mountain of Immortals in Penglai. But then he remembered that he hadn’t visited Jiangnan and all of its natural beauty; so down south he had gone and again had the thought resurfaced at this place. An unknown emotion surged up inside him. He bit into the dry and hard pie, trying his hardest to chew and swallow. Then he tilted his head side to side in contemplation; he was done travelling through Jiangnan, but there were still the three famous and five sacred mountains11 to see, stopping here would be a great pity.

Because of that, all thoughts about dying here were dropped.

All of a sudden, as if choked on his own saliva, the fisherman stopped swearing. He bent down, head inclined to a vague direction, unblinking.

Zhou Zishu was intrigued, so he stuck his head out from inside the boat’s deck to follow the old man’s gaze.

He saw him scrutinizing two people walking by the river bank -- they were the good-looking man in gray and the pretty young lady in purple he met back at the tavern. The fisherman might be old but he was exceptionally perceptive, and when taking a closer look at him, one could see protruding temples12 under unruly hair; thick, strong hands and corded muscles. It was very clear there was more to him than met the eye.

The pair whom old man was watching was definitely not ordinary either, seeing that they made him this on guard

The pretty girl was vivacious, but she would walk a few meters13 behind the man without fail, never once overstepping her boundary.

A glance was enough for Zhou Zishu to know that this girl was either a maid or a concubine; she might have a bit of a wicked streak with a beauty he greatly appreciated, but at the end she already belonged to someone else, so he stopped thinking too much about it and withdrew his gaze, turning his attention back to tackling the dry hard pie.

It was jianghu14 after all; ambiguity was one of its staples. If the royal court was a battleground for fame and power, jianghu was a battleground between white and black. Though some were unable to understand this, and took the title of a wandering hero too seriously even until they died.

But how would all this concern an incessantly ravenous homeless man like him anyway?

Zhou Zishu felt somewhat bored after the fisherman had stopped cursing, so he goaded, “Hey old man, this pie lacks a bit of flavor. I don’t mind whether it’s bad or fine salt, so you should’ve at least put some in.” The other got furious again, “How are you still talking shit with that much food stuffed in your mouth? You greedy little shit, gonna starve you for three days, see how you will complain then…” The moment he opened his mouth, his words were a never-ending stream. Zhou Zishu smiled, eating his pie with more vigor, feeling a little shameless.

Crossing the river only cost a few coins, but Zhou Zishu threw a silver crumble at the fisherman anyway. The latter didn’t feel grateful or undeserved at all, he took it and walked away, face like that of an unsatisfied debt collector. He couldn’t wait to kick the younger out of the boat the moment they reached the other side, “Get lost, get lost! Don’t waste my time, I have important business to do.” Zhou Zishu leisurely finished the pie, stretching and leaving the deck. He replied while still chewing, “Do you have to go reincarnate or something, why the rush?” The fisherman’s eyes were as big as saucers, looking like he want to curse the brat’s entire family and ancestors; but he swallowed his fury once he reminded himself of something, grumblingly sailing away instead.

It was a good thing that this fisherman act was just a disguise for his whatever business, if he was truly one then he would be piss poor.

Staring at the boat sailing further away from sight, Zhou Zishu deliberately muttered a regard of absolute literary excellence, “Fuck you.” For most of his life he had mingled with the cultured but degenerate side of society; all they did was spouting Confucious this and Confucious that, never did a rude word escape their mouth. He felt incredibly delighted after blurting out that curse, as if years of pent-up frustrations have vanished completely with it.

And to his surprised revelation, cursing turned out to be such an enjoyable thing to do. He was all smiles, whispering once more, “Eat shit bastard, got my money and couldn’t even do his job right.” After mulling over the words, he felt like they tasted even sweeter, and that lifted his mood greatly. With content, he walked along the river bank.

Zhou Zishu travelled here and there for the entire day and reached the city’s outskirt at nightfall. He found a pond and had a thorough washing, because even he himself couldn’t stand the smell anymore, at least he should look like a proper human. He thought about finding a place to stay overnight; and after another few hundred meters on the road, found a dilapidated and abandoned shrine. He made a bed out of hay and fell asleep at the Buddha statue’s feet.

In the dead of night, he was devoid of worry and could have slept dreamless till morning, had it not been for the footsteps and human noises nearby.

Three silhouettes appeared at the shrine’s door with the apparent smell of blood, prompting Zhou Zishu to open his eyes and frown.

The injured one was wearing a hat, supported by a boy in his teens who had some basic kungfu in him, but the energy of which was still unstable. Like a sick bull, he was in a shortage of breath, helping the injured with strenuous effort. The last person was an old woman dressed like a servant, staggering behind them with a bag in her hold.

The young man walked through the door, scanning the shrine cautiously like a wounded animal. He didn’t notice Zhou Zishu as the latter was hidden in the statue’s casting shadow, his breath feather light. Turning to the man with the hat, he said quietly, “Uncle Li, let’s hide in here for a bit, your wound…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as the one he was talking to struggled out of his assistance, trying his best to stand and made a salutation at the direction of Zhou Zishu, “Ah… This friend…”

He trailed off after raising his head. Zhou Zishu could see clearly too: this person was the fisherman he met before. On his back was a sword wound, soaking his entire body in crimson. The younger sat up straight, “It’s you!” The fisherman laughed bitterly, “Damn it, of course it’s the beggar brat…” He stumbled forward before he could finish, and the young boy hurriedly went to support him with his arms; but since the latter himself was out of strength, both tumbled to the ground with the boy sobbing, “Uncle Li…” The fisherman spasmed suddenly. Zhou Zishu couldn’t help but walk over to examine the injury, noticing a strange purple color mixed in with the normal redness of blood, the effect of which being his deathly pale lips. He frowned.

The old man tried his hardest to smile and spoke in a low voice, “It’s not like you were shitting on your ancestors, boy, would you stop with the tears already? I’m not even dead yet…” The woman was also wiping her tears, “Old Li, what would our young master do if something happened to you?” He stared at her, inhaling with great difficulty and told the boy, shaking, “I… am just someone with no future… But I owed your father a long time ago, apart from my own life I have nothing else to pay this debt with…” He coughed and spasmed again right after, “Young man, remember this carefully…” He didn’t get to tell the boy what to remember as more urgent footsteps could be heard outside the shrine. A man clad in black walked in; he didn’t even bother to cover his face, on which was a scar from a knife cut. Seeing the three cornered like rats, his mouth twisted. “You did well, being able to escape this far.” The boy bit his lips. He pulled out the sword tied around his hip, throwing himself at the man in black, “I’m gonna kill you!” It was terribly unfortunate that his astonishing momentum was not backed up with enough skills; no matter how promising he looked, his execution was clumsy and showed his inexperience. He was disarmed with a flick of the hand before he could land a hit, and was knocked back a few meters after a blow to the stomach.

The boy stood up after that, faced covered in grime. Without fear, he shouted and charged again empty-handed.

The fisherman also wanted to stand, but he was so heavily injured that he fell back right away.

The enemy smiled coldly, “Look at this rabbit trying to bite.” He dodged the attack, fingers crooked with the intention of clawing at the middle of the boy’s back. Under the moonlight those fingers didn’t seem to be made out of human flesh and blood, they glowed a faint blue, ready to deliver the killing blow.

Initially Zhou Zishu refrained from sticking his nose into this, but he had somewhat of a fate with this fisherman, having been ‘on the same boat’ with him; and the boy was too young to be met with death at his age. He took a small rock in his palm, but before he could shoot it, there was suddenly a whistle. The man in black flinched and threw himself to the flat ground, making the boy trip in midair since he caught nothing.

At the place where the man in black had stood moments before was a hidden weapon15 in the shape of a lotus.

They heard a delicate female voice, “What kind of person bullies elders and children this late at night in the middle of nowhere? How audacious.” Zhou Zishu startled as this voice was quite familiar. He withdrew the small rock, returning to his makeshift bed to watch things unfold silently.

The man in black’s expression twitched, gaze throbbing -- Zhou Zishu thought it was because of the scar acting up. His face froze, looking a little funny despite the viciousness. He spoke angrily, “Show yourself, you whore!” The young lady appeared at the door, smiling. Zhou Zishu recognized her as the one in purple who had threatened to poison him earlier. What a roll he was on today, seeing that half of the people gathered here was someone he had run into beforehand.

The girl’s master was nowhere to be found; she tilted her head, leaning on the door with an innocent expression, a finger lightly scraping her face. “Old shameless bastard, how dare you come here to attack elders and children, not sparing even one who’s at death’s door?” At being called ‘one who’s at death’s door’, the fisherman, having been swearing up and down vigorously just hours before, collapsed in silence.