From the Qin Dynasty onwards, he eked out a living among the heavens.

Chapter Eighteen: Undercurrents

The pebble Han Fei tossed into the court failed to create the ripples he desired. The case of the embezzled grain tax accounts in Nanyang was easily dismissed by Ji Wuye's men. The old general in charge of the accounts kowtowed before the entire court, pleading guilty for his old age and senility, admitting the error in his bookkeeping, and offering to be fined half a year's salary. King Han waved his hand and granted the request. Han Fei stood in the ranks of civil officials, a smile on his face, but the knuckles of his fingers gripping the bronze seal had turned white.

It was already afternoon when they returned to Zilan Pavilion. In the main hall, Nongyu was playing the zither, while Zinu sat at the table examining a stack of silk slips. Wei Zhuang stood by the window, his back to everyone, gazing outside. Hearing footsteps, Zinu raised her eyes, glanced at Han Fei only once, and then put down the bamboo slips in her hand.

"It was blocked."

"He's been fined six months' salary. I checked the accounts for two months, and he's been fined six months' salary." Han Fei sat down at the desk, poured himself a cup of tea, and gulped down half of it in one go.

Before she could finish speaking, hurried footsteps echoed down the stairs. An informant strode into the main hall and handed Zi Nu a scroll of silk. Zi Nu unfolded it, glanced at it, lowered her brows slightly, and placed the scroll on the table.

"A deserted village in the western suburbs. Last night, someone sealed off the entire village with poisonous fog. All seventeen people perished. They were all descendants of the Baiyue people."

Han Fei's teacup stopped in mid-air. "The King of a Hundred Poisons."

"Tianze's most skilled former subordinates in using poison." Wei Zhuang turned from the window, his cold eyes devoid of any extra emotion. "Only he could silently poison an entire village in the middle of the night. Those remaining villagers, unwilling to pick up their knives again, are a burden to Tianze. He's clearing the area."

"He's preparing for a battle." Han Fei put down his teacup and stood up.

Footsteps sounded outside the hall. Xu Huang stepped across the threshold and sat down at the table. Zi Nu briefly recounted the events of the desolate village. After listening, he did not speak immediately, but instead picked up his teacup, his gaze lingering on Han Fei's face for a moment.

"What are you planning to do?"

"Tianze's target is Ji Wuye. He only has four men under his command: Yan Lingji, Wushuang Gui, Baidu Wang, and Qu Shi Mo. Four experts aren't enough. He needs allies." Han Fei downed his now-cold tea in one gulp. "I need to see him. I need to find out his hand before he drags more innocent people into this."

"He's already come knocking." Xu Huang took a bamboo slip from his sleeve and placed it on the table. The bamboo slip was engraved with ancient Baiyue seal script. "Three days later, south bank of the Wei River."

Han Fei picked up the bamboo slips and glanced through them. "Where was it sent?"

"Outside our hospital gate."

"He's guessing." Han Fei placed the bamboo slips back on the table. "He sent the invitation to the villa in the suburbs, wanting to see who else is hiding behind Zilan Pavilion. Brother Xu, he knows you."

"He was just guessing." Xu Huang picked up his teacup, his tone calm. "He didn't name names, he just left the invitation at the door, wanting to see if I would come to Zilan Pavilion with it. Now that I'm here, he knows that the person in the suburbs is on Zilan Pavilion's side. After being imprisoned for ten years, the first thing he did after getting out wasn't to kill Ji Wuye, but to find out how deep the waters were in Qingzheng."

"I will go see him in three days. Go with him. Let him weigh the weight of the quicksand all at once."

Three days later, on the south bank of the Wei River.

As dusk approached, a thin layer of evening mist floated on the river. Han Fei had only brought Wei Zhuang and Xu Huang with him. When the three of them reached the agreed-upon ferry crossing along the riverbank, there were already people on the other side.

A tall, thin man stood beside a wooden post at the ferry crossing, draped in a dark blue cloak with the hood pulled low, revealing only a rugged old scar on his chin. Several figures stood indistinctly behind him, their features obscured by the mist.

Han Fei stepped onto the stone steps of the ferry and bowed respectfully. "Baiyue Tianze."

The cloaked man slowly raised his head. Beneath the hood lay a face ravaged by time and torture, deep-set eyes, high cheekbones, and a faint smile playing on his lips. Beneath that smile lay a sharp, piercing gaze, sweeping from Han Fei to Wei Zhuang, then lingering for a fleeting moment on Xu Huang—a brief pause, yet clearly carrying a sense of weighing his options. This man stood furthest away, his surroundings empty, devoid of any aura. It wasn't that he was well-hidden; rather, there was nothing to hide. Tianze suppressed this inability to see through him, withdrawing his gaze.

"The Ninth Prince of Korea." Tianze's voice was low and hoarse, like rusty iron slowly dragging across a stone. "That village in the western suburbs, you were the one who collected the corpses."

"Seventeen people. The youngest is three years old."

"That child's name is Amu. His grandfather was my father's personal guard, and he died twenty years ago in the battle when the allied forces breached the city." Tianze's tone was indifferent, as if he were recounting an old story unrelated to himself. "His grandmother took his father and fled to Xinzheng, where three generations farmed the land for twenty years. I sent people to find them three times, asking them to take up arms again. Three times, they refused. Since they refused to be Baiyue people, they would rather be dead."

The river wind blew from upstream, making the wooden stakes at the ferry crossing creak.

"You asked them to take up their knives, but they refused," Han Fei said. "When you asked me, I came. I am neither your kin nor your enemy. I came because we share the same enemy."

Tianze looked at him, his deep-set eyes showing no anger, only a cold and calculating scrutiny. After a moment, he spoke: "What do you want?"

Night falls.

"The night is too dark."

"Let's start with the Emerald Tiger."

A very soft laugh came from the mist behind Tianze. It was a woman's voice, gentle yet cold. "The Jade Tiger is Ji Wuye's money bag. You let Baiyue cut off Ji Wuye's source of income. What benefit do we get from that?"

"Blood-Clad Marquis Bai Yifei. He is Ji Wuye's blade, and also Baiyue's number one enemy. You help me bring down Jade Tiger, and I will help you restrain Blood-Clad Marquis." Han Fei did not look at the cloud of mist.

Tianze remained silent for a long time. Then he suddenly chuckled, a soft, brief laugh, like a rusty lock being half-turned open by an old key. "Ninth Prince of Korea, you are more interesting than I thought." He raised his hand, and an extremely burly figure emerged from the mist behind him, a giant over nine feet tall, with bluish-gray skin, muscles bulging like the roots of an old tree, and a bald head covered with Baiyue shamanistic patterns. With each step he took on the stone slabs of the ferry crossing, the slabs sank slightly.

"Peerless Ghost," Wei Zhuang whispered.

Tianze raised his other hand, and another person emerged from the mist. This person was thin and withered, wrapped in brightly colored strips of cloth, with numerous large and small ceramic bottles hanging from his waist. As he walked, the bottles clinked together, producing a crisp yet eerie tinkling sound. Han Fei's gaze lingered for a moment on the ceramic bottles at his waist. The dark purple net-like patterns on the seventeen people in the deserted village in the western suburbs were caused by the contents of those bottles.

A ball of fire exploded silently at the ferry crossing. After the flames subsided, a woman stood at the edge of the stone steps, her bare feet on the cold stone slabs, her body wreathed in eerie blue flames. Her face was exquisitely beautiful, her eyes alluring yet fierce, and her long, jet-black hair swayed gently in the heat of the flames.

"Yan Ling Ji," she said, a smile playing on her lips. Her gaze swept over Han Fei, then fell on Wei Zhuang, her eyes filled with admiration, as if she were examining a finely crafted sword. Finally, her gaze turned to Xu Huang.

She glanced at him.

It was originally just a routine scan; Tianze had asked her to identify the members of Liusha, and she had done so. But after that one glance, the smile on her lips faltered slightly. This person was standing the furthest away, and also the quietest. The swordsman behind Han Fei, though silent, possessed an aura like an unsheathed blade, his sharpness impossible to conceal. She had seen many such people and knew their strengths and weaknesses. But this person was different. He stood there, utterly empty, without any aura whatsoever. It wasn't that he was hiding something well; it was that there was nothing to hide at all. A person without killing intent, without sharpness, whose very breath was almost imperceptible, could stand so relaxed before the four great masters of Baiyue.

Her gaze lingered on his face for a moment, then shifted away. She didn't speak, nor did she move closer; she simply kept this unfathomable feeling in her heart.

Tianze pulled his hood down again. "Ninth Young Master, that's enough for today. I've noted your suggestion. But I'll decide the order. I'll come to see you again another day and tell you what Baiyue wants." He turned around and disappeared into the mist with Wushuang Gui and Baidu Wang. Yan Lingji was the last to leave. As she stepped barefoot onto the stone steps at the ferry crossing, she looked back one last time, not at Han Fei, not at Wei Zhuang, but at the person standing furthest away. Then a ball of flame rose from beneath her feet, and she vanished into the river breeze.

The ferry crossing fell silent once more. A river breeze blew from upstream, rustling the reeds. Han Fei stood on the ferry, gazing at the deepening night on the opposite bank, and suddenly spoke: "He didn't refuse. He didn't agree either. He's weighing me."

"He can't see through you, so he doesn't dare to act rashly." Xu Huang pulled his hands out of his sleeves, turned around and walked back along the riverbank.

Han Fei followed, and after a few steps, he suddenly turned his head to look at him, a meaningful smile appearing on his lips. "Yan Lingji's last two glances weren't directed at me."

Xu Huang didn't stop walking, his tone indifferent. "Maybe you're not as handsome as me."

Han Fei paused, his expression shifting as if a pebble had been thrown into a teacup—the tea hadn't spilled, but ripples spread far and wide. He opened his mouth, wanting to retort, but realized that no matter how he responded, it would sound like he was admitting he wasn't as handsome as others. He took a few steps closer, changing his angle to continue teasing, "Seriously speaking, Yan Lingji isn't someone to be trifled with. Don't you already have Nongyu?"

Xu Huang glanced at him sideways. "You're envious."

Han Fei's smile froze instantly. This was even harder to respond to than "Maybe you're not as handsome as me." Denying it would be guilty, admitting it would be shameful. He coughed lightly, his ears turning slightly red: "What do I envy? I'm watching over you on behalf of Nongyu."

"Only children make choices," Xu Huang said calmly, withdrawing his gaze.

Han Fei stumbled, nearly tripping over a stone on the riverbank. After regaining his footing, he stared at Xu Huang's retreating figure for several moments, his expression becoming incredibly complex. He caught up with him, lowering his voice with a hint of schadenfreude: "If Nongyu heard that, your backyard would be in for a fire."

"Nongyu won't mind." Xu Huang continued walking.

Han Fei, never one to shy away from a good show, pressed on, "What about the other one from Zilan Pavilion? What if Zi Nu hears this?"

Xu Huang didn't reply, but just glanced at him. That glance was calm, without explanation or denial, yet it seemed to encompass everything.

Han Fei's heart skipped a beat at Xu Huang's gaze. He had only meant it as a casual joke, but Xu Huang's reaction—no words, no explanation, just that one look—made him pause in surprise. Then his eyes widened suddenly: "Wait. You can't be serious. You want Nongyu too, and now you want Zi Nu as well? You've taken over Zi Lan Xuan all by yourself?"

"You have a problem with that?"

Han Fei opened his mouth, then closed it again. He recalled the earlier remark, "Only children make choices," and suddenly realized it wasn't a joke. This person's statement, "Adults want it all," was truly the truth. After a long pause, he managed to stammer, "Brother Xu, I've known you for so long, but only today have I realized how shameless you really are."

"Always worrying about other people's business." Xu Huang withdrew his gaze, his tone indifferent. "When are you going to find one yourself?"

Han Fei was speechless. He remained silent for several breaths, neither refuting nor teasing him further, but simply shook his head and quickened his pace forward.

Wei Zhuang walked ahead without looking back. His expression was obscured by the darkness, but the muscles in the back of his neck were noticeably tauter than usual. He didn't join the conversation, didn't say a word, but quickened his pace, as if eager to escape this increasingly absurd exchange. The river wind whipped his silver-gray hair, and moonlight fell on his pale profile, which wasn't its usual coldness, but a dark, almost blackish hue.

Han Fei glanced at him, and wisely refrained from speaking.

Xu Huang walked last, a slight smile playing on his lips. A river breeze blew from upstream, rustling the reeds. The moonlight shone brightly, casting three long shadows on the riverbank.