Chapter 342: In the Nunnery, Before the Guanyin Statue

A moment later, his subordinates brought a white-shafted spear. Ma Xianglin grabbed it in one motion and leaped onto his horse. His personal guards and Wei Wenkui's cavalry were already mounted and waiting. Ma Xianglin swept his gaze around, then pointed diagonally northwest and shouted, "Follow me to slay Pu Mingsheng!"

With that, Ma Xianglin spurred his horse and charged out of the camp first. As he passed Weimo Prefecture city, he saw the city walls unguarded and not a trace of movement within.

Presumably the city's inhabitants had already been relocated.

The governing logic of the southwestern native chieftains differed from that of the Central Plains. They cared little for territory and far more for the people under their rule. Not just Weimo Prefecture—even great cities like Lin'an or Kunming could be abandoned at a moment's notice. As long as their people remained, their strength was undiminished, and they could return at any time. That was why Ma Xianglin pursued relentlessly, refusing to let the chance for a decisive battle slip away.

The cavalry advanced swiftly. In the blink of an eye they had left Weimo Prefecture behind and entered the mountain forests to the northwest. Wei Wenkui gave a whistle, and a dozen or so wolf riders spurred forward, passing Ma Xianglin to take the vanguard.

Wei Wenkui rode up beside Ma Xianglin and called out, "These Yunnan Luoluo are masters of ambushes and traps. General, you must be careful." "Understood!" Ma Xianglin acknowledged.

They pursued for the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, when suddenly a scream rang out from the right front. Ma Xianglin rode over to look—there was a ditch on the ground, only shin-deep, covered with dead branches and fallen leaves, specifically meant to trip horses' legs.

A guoxia pony lay toppled to one side, its right foreleg drenched in blood, pale bone fragments visible at the wound. It struggled to rise, letting out continuous miserable whinnies.

The wolf rider lay sprawled nearby, blood on his head, shoulders, and arms. Fortunately, they were all flesh wounds—he brushed off the dirt and got to his feet. One of Ma Xianglin's personal guards also urged, "General, we're advancing deep into enemy territory alone. If we get caught by one of these when we meet the enemy, we're done for."

Wei Wenkui added, "In a pitched battle, Pu Mingsheng is no match for our Xia army. But in weaving through the forests and fighting Mobile Corps Commander-style, these Yunnan southern barbarians are better than us.

A few months ago, the Yunnan Governor's ten-thousand-man army was ambushed in the woods and wiped out completely by Pu Mingsheng."

Ma Xianglin knew their advice was sound, but calculating the distance, they could catch the enemy in at most an hour. Wouldn't turning back now be a waste? So he thought it over and still said, "Send out more scouts. We keep pursuing!"

With that, he mounted his horse and continued the relentless chase.

Along the way they encountered dozens more traps. Most were spotted and avoided, but several still caused casualties among the cavalry.

The Yunnan native warriors knew everything about the mountain forests. Setting traps was second nature to them—effortless and seamless.

For instance, on uphill stretches or the inside of curves, they would stack flat, round stones and cover them with dead leaves and moss. If man or horse stepped on them, at best they'd fall; at worst, they'd sprain an ankle or break a hoof.

There were also low vines stretched across the path, slanting branches that swept at legs, thorned vines that blocked the way, poisonous branches scattered on the ground—a whole array of methods.

Setting a trap took but a casual gesture, yet clearing them required caution at every step.

Even though Ma Xianglin and Wei Wenkui were also chieftains and could see through most traps, and had horses to ride, their advance was still difficult. After another moment, a sudden *pata* sound came from the distance ahead. Everyone reined in and went on alert. They waited a long while, but nothing unusual happened.

One wolf rider plucked up his courage and went forward, pulling down a vine. Tied to the vine's end were two stones—whenever a person or beast passed by and touched the vine, it would make that *pata* sound.

The sound was not loud, but it was extremely unnatural in the jungle, triggering an instinctive alert and serving to slow pursuing troops.

Ma Xianglin cursed under his breath and said in a low voice, "Old Wei, why do I feel like this Pu fellow has gotten a lot smarter?"

Wei Wenkui took off his helmet and wiped away sweat. "The Yunnan southern Luoluo have always been like this. What's rare is someone like Pu Mingsheng who favors head-on charging." "Luoluo" was what Ming-dynasty people called the Yi people.

Wei Wenkui was himself a chieftain, yet he made no attempt to hide his contempt for the Luoluo. First, because he was a Zhuang—that is, of the Zhuang ethnicity—not of the same people as Pu Mingsheng. Second, even among the same ethnicity, different villages fought over land, water, and population, killing each other in blood feuds without the slightest mercy. Third, Wei Wenkui's tribe was highly sinicized, and despising the less-sinicized Luoluo was only natural—as natural as eating and drinking. "Moo—"

As they spoke, a series of urgent ox-horn blasts suddenly sounded from the front of the column. Every wolf rider instinctively looked toward that direction.

Wei Wenkui immediately put his helmet back on and shouted, "The forward scouts have made contact with the enemy!"

"Follow me—charge!" Ma Xianglin angled his white-shafted spear, shook the reins, and rushed out first.

The Jeju horse galloped through the mountain forest and quickly reached the battlefield. There, amid the dense vines, were countless figures of Pu's soldiers.

A squad of wolf riders had already been surrounded. Nearly every one of them was wounded, and some were foaming at the mouth, collapsed and unconscious.

Ma Xianglin let out a great roar, spurred forward, and his spear shot out like a dragon. In an instant, he had run two of Pu's soldiers through.

The remaining enemy soldiers loosed crossbows and arrows at him from every direction—*swish, swish* sounds filled the air without cease. Ma Xianglin used the dense vines and tree trunks to twist and turn on horseback, dodging the barrage of bolts.

But his Jeju horse let out a mournful cry and collapsed on the spot. Ma Xianglin rolled to his feet, charged forward on foot with his white-shafted spear, his aura terrifying. The surrounding enemy soldiers dared not engage him and fell back to a distance.

Just then, an enemy soldier suddenly leaped down from the treetops, his Husao saber aimed straight at Ma Xianglin.

At the critical moment, a javelin shot out from the side, piercing the soldier clean through. The javelin's tremendous force carried the man and flung him aside, blood splattering all over Ma Xianglin's head.

Ma Xianglin turned to look and saw Wei Wenkui standing on horseback behind him.

The other riders drew their crossbows and javelins and fired up into the treetops. Before long, a dozen or more enemy soldiers came tumbling down wounded.

The area was quickly cleared. Wei Wenkui had the captives gathered in one place for interrogation.

A moment later, Wei Wenkui walked before Ma Xianglin with a look of shock on his face: "General, Pu Mingsheng is dead!"

"Dead?" Ma Xianglin was startled and pressed for details.

"The captives say we poisoned Pu Mingsheng to death last night..." Wei Wenkui recounted what had happened the night before.

The Luoluo tribes had no custom of keeping deaths secret, and claiming the chieftain was ill while letting someone else wield power in his stead was utterly incomprehensible to them.

So Wan Cailian had rushed through the succession ceremony. By this morning, the entire tribe knew of the chieftain's death.

Wei Wenkui said, "Right now, in the Luoluo army, the youngest son Pu Zuoyong nominally holds the chieftain's seat, but in reality Wan Cailian controls the government and Bai Cha controls the military.

Bai Cha is an old Luoluo—old and cunning, a master of using the mountain forests to maneuver. No wonder the Luoluo army's tactics have been completely different these past two days." Ma Xianglin frowned and said, "But... we never sent anyone to poison him! Could it be..."

Wei Wenkui nodded: "Han emperors have dedicated food tasters, so poisoning them isn't easy. But Luoluo chieftains don't have such refinements—poisoning one off is nothing out of the ordinary. In my view, it might well have been a conspiracy between that Bai Cha and that slut surnamed Wan."

Ma Xianglin said gravely, "This must be reported to General Qin immediately!"

Wei Wenkui asked, "So do we keep pursuing?"

Ma Xianglin shook his head: "Since the enemy is set on fleeing west, with our few hundred cavalry we can't chase them to death. Come on, back to camp!"

Although Pu's soldiers were migrating westward with the entire population of Weimo Prefecture, after the ravages of war and the law of the jungle, almost none of the survivors from Weimo were elderly or children—even women were few. Their marching speed was barely affected.

A few days later, the column arrived at Ami Prefecture.

Wan Cailian had just let out a sigh of relief when her trusted confidant came to report: "Mistress, the honored guest has arrived."

"He's certainly impatient." A smile curled at the corner of Wan Cailian's lips. "Let him wait."

Ami Prefecture was the hereditary territory Pu Mingsheng had held before his rise. The chieftain's residence had every necessity fully stocked.

Wan Cailian returned to her inner chamber and changed into a new set of clothes from head to toe—an outer robe of moon-white ramie, an inner garment of plain gauze, and a moon-white horse-face skirt below. The mourning clothes were all of light, thin material; when the wind blew, they clung to her body, tracing an alluring silhouette. The plain white made her look all the more fragile and sorrowful, stirring pity.

Then she took out rice powder, pearl powder, eyebrow stone, and other cosmetics, and painted on a light makeup whose bones were grief and whose soul was allure.

Wan Cailian was a Han Chinese from Jiangxi. As a child she had come to Yunnan with her father, who was in trade. Later, her father's business failed and he died, and the family's fortunes plummeted. She was sold from hand to hand into a brothel, where she tasted every kind of human coldness and warmth and endured endless suffering. It was through her stunning beauty and her talent for attaching herself to the powerful that she had climbed step by step out of the mire to her present position. This skill at cosmetics and dressing was the very craft by which she survived—she could do it with her eyes closed.

After a long while, her makeup was done. She examined herself in the mirror and saw a woman of haunting, fragmented beauty. But after looking for some time, it seemed something was still missing. Wan Cailian casually picked a white jasmine flower and tucked it at her temple. That single touch was like dotting the dragon's eyes—the sorrowful air receded and the seductive air surged, transforming her from someone to be pitied and cherished into someone to be adored and desired.

Wan Cailian smiled in satisfaction. Before stepping out the door, she thought of all the moments she had shared with her late husband, and could not help but feel a pang of sorrow.

Her slender hand brushed over the dressing table, a trace of tenderness in her eyes. Pu Mingsheng had truly been good to her. Knowing she loved beauty, he had commissioned Central Plains craftsmen to make this dressing table, and every rouge and powder she used was of the finest quality.

Wan Cailian parted her vermilion lips and murmured softly, "Husband, what can I do? I am a woman. A woman cannot hold the foundation of Ami Prefecture. If I do not throw in my lot with him, our Yong'er and the Pu family's legacy will all be destroyed... Do not blame me."

With that, she resolutely left the house, bringing along her maidservants and trusted personal guards. When questioned by anyone, she said she was going to the Jingquan Nunnery outside the city to hold a requiem for her late husband. Yunnan had been cultivated by the Great Ming for nearly three hundred years, drawing in a great influx of Han Chinese; even Ami Prefecture had many Han commoners, and along with them came Buddhist and Daoist beliefs and the like.

Outside the walls of Ami Prefecture stood Lion Mountain, upon which were countless Buddhist temples and Daoist abbeys, and even a shrine to Lord Guan the Holy Emperor.

However, the Jingquan Nunnery that Wan Cailian was going to was not on Lion Mountain. The nunnery lay only three li from the city, backed by the eastern spur of the East Mountains and facing a tributary of the Lu River, surrounded by bamboo groves and rice paddies. It had been donated and built during the Wanli reign by Pu Shengming's mother, dedicated solely to the use of the Pu clan's womenfolk for Buddhist worship.

By the time Wan Cailian arrived at Jingquan Nunnery, dusk was already approaching.

The abbess led several nuns to greet her at the mountain gate and accompanied her up the hill. Incense and candles had already been prepared in the front courtyard before the Hall of the Heavenly Kings. Wan Cailian offered one stick of incense each to Maitreya Buddha and Skanda Bodhisattva, performed three prostrations, and was then led by the abbess to the meditation chamber in the rear courtyard.

In the meditation chamber, Wan Cailian chanted the *Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva Pūrvapraṇidhāna Sūtra*, the scripture for conducting a requiem for her late husband. The abbess and nuns struck the wooden fish and tapped the singing bowls beside her, the atmosphere solemn.

According to custom, the scripture had to be chanted seven times, but barely three had passed when the wooden fish and singing bowls suddenly stopped, and the abbess and nuns all withdrew together. Wan Cailian slowly opened her eyes. The setting sun streamed in through the doorway, casting a tall silhouette upon the ground.

"Prefect Pu died fighting to defend Yunnan against the Xia army — he was a true hero. I beg Madam to restrain her grief."

The speaker stood behind Wan Cailian. His voice was low and deep, and he spoke in Han speech, even imitating the central plains accent in his intonation — utterly different from the strange, twisted accents of ordinary chieftains.

"Our two peoples have long been at odds, so I could only presume to invite the Governor to come here. I beg your forgiveness." Wan Cailian did not turn around as she spoke, remaining kneeling on her cushion the whole time, facing the white-robed Guanyin statue as she talked.

"No matter. That I was able to see through the Han's sowing of discord is thanks to Madam's letter of assistance. It is I who should have come to your door to express my gratitude."

Sha Dingzhou spoke while cautiously pacing behind Wan Cailian, carefully inspecting the meditation chamber.

The chamber was simply furnished — apart from the cushion, incense table, and Buddhist shrine, there was almost nothing else. The east and west side rooms were screened only by bamboo curtains, and inside were arhat beds, narrow side tables, and scripture racks — one glance showed no one was hidden there.

He moved a little closer to Wan Cailian, and a faint, elegant fragrance drifted to him, intoxicating Sha Dingzhou.

He asked, "May I ask what plans Madam has for the future?"

Wan Cailian said softly, "I am but a weak woman; in these troubled times I seek only to preserve myself and dare not think of anything more. But the Xia army comes in full force — first they killed my husband, and now their troops drive straight for Ami Prefecture, seeming set on sweeping all of Yunnan and Dian... Ah—"

Halfway through her words, she suddenly cried out in surprise — her cushion had been spun around by Sha Dingzhou, turning her to face him.

The two exchanged a glance, then a faint blush spread across Wan Cailian's face and she averted her eyes.

In the setting sun, Wan Cailian's mourning garments appeared especially white and pure. Sunlight fell upon her face, gilding even the tips of her hair with a rim of gold. Sha Dingzhou's breath caught. He moved closer and said in a low voice, "Would Madam consider coming to Kunming?"

Wan Cailian gently shook her head, then bravely lifted it to look at him, saying stubbornly, "Ami Prefecture is my late husband's foundation, and my clansmen are here as well — how could I lightly abandon it?" Sha Dingzhou seized the opportunity to sit closer, smiling, "That would be rather difficult to manage."

Wan Cailian said, "We Luo Luo people excel at ambushes in the mountain forests. On the road withdrawing to Ami Prefecture, my clansmen have already blocked off ponds along the way, smeared dried powder of the sick's filth on wild fruits, tree trunks, and vines, and left behind several corpses of those who died of dysentery."

Sha Dingzhou had been admiring Wan Cailian's beauty with a smile, but at these words his body stiffened. "You've been cultivating miasma along the route? If so, wouldn't that mean you can't go back either?"

Yunnan had from ancient times been plagued by diseases such as malaria and dysentery, and over time the native peoples had come to understand how diseases spread. Blocking off ponds was to create stagnant water, breed mosquitoes, and spread malaria.

The dried filth powder was made by sun-drying excrement and vomit, then grinding them into powder and smearing it everywhere — enemies who touched it would easily fall ill.

Leaving behind corpses of dysentery victims was for the same reason.

This kind of disease-spreading tactic often killed a thousand enemies at the cost of eight hundred of one's own, and even the native peoples would not use it lightly.

Wan Cailian smiled bitterly. "The Xia army came thoroughly prepared for this campaign. If I did not use every means available, I would not have survived."

Seeing her pitiable state in every respect, Sha Dingzhou's heart swelled with tender affection. Smelling that faint, elusive fragrance, he was already hard as iron between his legs. Wan Cailian pressed on, "If the Governor wishes to succeed the Mu clan and unify Yunnan, no title from the Xia King will achieve it! Now that the Xia army has entered our borders, the Pu clan stands in peril. If our two peoples do not set aside our old grudges and join hands against the enemy, we will all be finished!"

Seeing Sha Dingzhou still hesitating, Wan Cailian raised the stakes. "So long as the Governor is willing to send troops, the Pu clan is willing to honor the Governor as lord of Yunnan." The situation was now critical — the Xia army pressing in from without, and restless clansmen stirring within.

Her young son Pu Zuoyong was still small, and by the custom of levirate marriage, the uncles, nephews, and distant relatives of the Pu clan all had their eyes on the orphan and widow, drooling with the desire to devour them whole. Wan Cailian could hold them down for a time, but not forever. Whether facing internal or external threats, she needed to find a patron — and bringing in Sha Dingzhou as a powerful ally was the answer. Moreover, compared to those uncivilized Luo Luo relatives of the Pu clan, Sha Dingzhou was refined in speech, young in years, tall and imposing in stature, with a handsome face as well. When Wan Cailian looked at him, her heart stirred somewhat.

As she spoke, her hand naturally came to rest on Sha Dingzhou's forearm.

Sha Dingzhou had already made up his mind, but seeing Wan Cailian's manner, he still teased, "And after it is accomplished, what shall Madam do?"

Wan Cailian's face reddened. She quickly withdrew her hand and looked elsewhere, saying, "I am but a woman — what can I do? Naturally... naturally I will follow whatever the Governor arranges."

Hearing this, Sha Dingzhou suddenly swept Wan Cailian up into his arms and whispered in her ear, "This Governor will arrange you right now!"

With that he headed for the side room, but halfway there he suddenly stopped, looked at the incense table, and turned back.

While Wan Cailian was still puzzled, Sha Dingzhou swept everything off the incense table with one motion, then set her down facing away from him, pressing her upper body over the table. Wan Cailian was both ashamed and alarmed, crying out repeatedly, "No, not here!"

But Sha Dingzhou's large hands firmly restrained her, leaving her unable to move.

With several sounds of linen tearing, Wan Cailian's delicate brows knitted tightly. She gritted her teeth and cried out in pain, tears sliding down unbidden.

After a moment, the pain subsided. Wan Cailian opened her tear-blurred eyes to find herself drifting near and far from the Guanyin statue, the incense table beneath her creaking incessantly. Outside the meditation chamber, Sha Dingzhou's guards had already tightly surrounded the entire nunnery.

Only when the moon rose over the East Mountains did Sha Dingzhou reluctantly leave Wan Cailian. By then the meditation chamber was in complete disarray.

Sha Dingzhou sat cross-legged on the cushion, catching his breath. He picked up a strip of plain silk chest-binding from the floor, took a deep sniff of it, and tucked it into his robes.

Wan Cailian, drenched in fragrant sweat, shot him a glare and spat weakly, "Beast."

Sha Dingzhou chuckled. "Rest assured, Madam. Sha keeps his word — the reinforcements will arrive shortly. With the two of us working together, no one in Yunnan and Dian can stand against us!" After resting a moment, he rose and said to Wan Cailian, "The Xia army's firearms are formidable and their soldiers elite — they cannot be met head-on. I ask Madam to cultivate more miasma and inflict as many casualties as possible before the decisive battle."

Wan Cailian gave a languid "Mm."

That single sound stirred fresh heat in Sha Dingzhou's lower belly. He cursed inwardly, "What a vixen!" Then he left the meditation chamber.

At the very moment the two were coupling, Pu Mingsheng died of poison, and word of the Pu army's westward retreat to Ami Prefecture traveled up the supply line all the way to Taiping Prefecture. Zhu Xieyuan had just been dressing down several grain transport officers over their poor escort duty when he received the news. He said, "Report this to the King at once!"

Then he called over a subordinate and asked, "Have the two chieftains of Tianzhou and Sicheng Zhou shown any signs of movement?"

The subordinate scratched his head. "Strangely enough, those two chieftains are usually arrogant and overbearing, acting like local emperors within their own territories, but lately they've been perfectly well-behaved. Not only no signs of movement — they haven't even bullied the market vendors, and even their household servants rarely leave the residence."

Zhu Xieyuan sighed. "A pity... well, we'll find another opportunity later."

With that he dismissed the subordinate and continued speaking to the grain transport officers: "... The longer the supply line, the more one must emphasize timeliness.

Of the goods you escort, grain is actually the least prone to mold and spoilage. But can the wormwood wait? Can the soap balls be delayed?

This time you were half a day late, so I'll only give you a verbal reprimand. If it happens again, punishment will be certain — go!"

The grain transport officers slunk away in disgrace.

Three days later, in the chieftain's residence of Tianzhou, Chieftain Cen Maoren also learned of Pu Mingsheng's death. He was so frightened he could not sleep the entire night, and rose the next morning with dark circles under his eyes.

When a maidservant brought his breakfast, Cen Maoren recoiled as if from snakes and scorpions, throwing the entire meal, plates and bowls alike, to the ground.

No joke — if someone as formidable as Pu Mingsheng could be poisoned to death by the Great Xia army, how could he, Cen Maoren, dare eat in peace?

Cen Maoren was the second-strongest chieftain in Guangxi, commanding eight thousand Wolf Soldiers, while Pu Mingsheng had been Yunnan's number-one chieftain, with nearly twenty thousand Luo Luo troops under him — counting the smaller chieftains he had pressed into service, a full thirty to forty thousand men.

Against the Great Xia army, such a formidable figure had not won a single battle — had not even managed to slow the Great Xia army's march!

Strongholds like Fuzhou, Guangnan, and Weimo Prefecture were like paper before the Great Xia army, falling almost without a fight.

Before the Great Xia army had entered Yunnan, Pu Mingsheng had been swallowing the heavens with his ambition, seemingly poised to split Yunnan in two with Sha Dingzhou.

After the Great Xia army entered Yunnan, Pu Mingsheng acted as if he had seen his own father—before he even laid eyes on the main force of the Great Xia army, he had already suffered defeat after defeat, and even died without knowing what hit him!

Just how strong was the Great Xia army?

And this was in Yunnan, where the terrain was fragmented and miasma ran rampant.

If such military strength were used against Tianzhou, what would that look like?

Cen Maoren knew full well that in the eyes of the imperial court, he was hardly a good sort.

Under Ming rule, he had sat on the fence, outwardly obedient to the court while secretly expanding his power and swallowing up other tribes.

When Pu Mingsheng first rose in rebellion, he had even sold him weapons and medicine.

Though he had sensed something was wrong when the Great Xia later marched into Yunnan and immediately cut off business ties, sold was sold—he was terrified that the Xia King would find out and come settle accounts with him.

Combined with the fact that the Great Xia's grain convoy deliberately avoided the You River where he was based, and that several thousand soldiers were stationed along the supply route, it went without saying who the Xia King was guarding against.

Ever since learning the court had gone to war, Cen Maoren had kept his nose clean and strictly restrained his men, afraid the Xia King would find an excuse to clean him up too. Everyone knew the Guangxi Wolf Soldiers were fierce and fond of fighting, but being fond of fighting didn't mean being brainless.

Facing a wild dog, barking a couple times and putting on a fierce act might work. Pulling that trick on a tiger—wasn't that just asking to die?

The smoother the Yunnan campaign went, the more Cen Maoren feared, until news of Pu Mingsheng's death arrived and he could no longer hold it together.

Fine, so the Xia army was strong—but how were they so skilled at scheming too? The Luoluo chieftain had been the most wary of them all. How had the Great Xia managed to poison Pu Mingsheng? Would someone poison him, Cen Maoren, too? Were the Xia troops holding still precisely because they were waiting for him to die of poison?

The more Cen Maoren thought, the more afraid he became. Finally he steeled himself and said to his steward: "Prepare a boat. We're going to Nanning!"

The steward asked: "How many boats? How many troops will the Tusi bring?"

At the word "troops," Cen Maoren's body trembled and he cursed: "Bring your mother's head! Only twenty guards, and bring all the bribe money from dealings with that rebel Pu!" "Yes." The steward, though full of puzzlement, could only comply.

After Cen Maoren boarded the boat, he followed the You River downstream and reached Nanning a few days later.

The last time he had come to Nanning was five years ago. Seeing it again now, he could spot the difference at a glance—the entire You River was covered in rafts, whole logs of nanmu, fir, and ironwood lashed into enormous timber rafts floating downstream.

The closer to Nanning, the denser the rafts became. Looking out, the river surface seemed like a floating forest.

At night, boat lanterns linked into a continuous chain, spreading along the waterway.

Near Nanning, from a great distance one could see rows upon rows of water wheels built on the tributaries. The wheels varied in size, the tallest a full three or four zhang high. These wheels weren't for irrigating farmland—beside each one stood a shed, with wooden bearings and gears turning within, letting out a great creaking, groaning racket. Some wheels were accompanied by a dull thumping sound.

Beside the sheds, a great number of craftsmen bustled about. Ox carts, mule carts, and handcarts came and went, the road crowded with vehicles and people jostling shoulder to shoulder. It wasn't a market district, yet it had all the liveliness of one.

Near the Nanning docks, several cannons lined the riverbank, their bases built of blue-grey stone blocks so seamlessly joined that not a single seam could be seen. Great Xia's naval Sea Wolf ships prowled the river, lending the bustling scene an air of grim menace.

How did this compare to Guangzhou? Cen Maoren dared not say, but it was certainly a hundred streets ahead of Tianzhou.

His heart uneasy, he dared not look too long. He docked at the port and stated his purpose.

The port clerk said in surprise: "Another Tusi?"

Cen Maoren didn't understand what that meant—not until he was led into the city, to the main hall of the Xia King's residence, did he grasp the meaning of those words.

There, over a dozen Tusi were already seated in the hall.

Not just anyone could be called a Tusi—only the chiefs of the higher-administrative native prefectures, native departments, and native counties held the title.

All told, there were only a little over thirty Tusi in all of Guangxi, and more than half of them were sitting in this room.

Some of the Tusi were hereditary enemies, whose tribesmen would draw blades on sight of one another—yet here they sat under one roof quietly drinking tea. A rare sight indeed.

Among the Tusi, strength commanded respect. Cen Maoren was the second-greatest Tusi in Guangxi, and as he entered, most of the Tusi rose to greet him.

Only one man seated at the head did not stir. Cen Maoren looked—it was Cen Yunhan, Tusi of Sicheng Prefecture.

He hadn't expected this hypocrite to come as well!

Cen Maoren could only force a smile and bow in greeting: "Uncle is here too? What a coincidence. May I ask what brings Uncle here?"

Cen Yunhan gave a cold laugh and said: "Naturally, to pay respects to the Xia King. With the pacification of Yunnan, though my talents are shallow and my wisdom meager, bound by loyalty and righteousness, I wished to offer what little service I could. But I hear my worthy nephew was on very good terms with that bandit Pu a month ago. Have you come to toil for the state's affairs, or to mend fences on a friend's behalf?"

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen