Wuchang.
Zhu Huadie, the tenth Prince of Chu of the Great Ming, sat rigidly on a gilded folding chair granted by the Hongwu Emperor himself. His back was straight, but his face was pale with fear.
He was the twin brother of the late ninth Prince of Chu, Zhu Huakui. In the past, he had been enfeoffed as the Prince of Xuanhua, a minor and low-profile prince who had barely left a trace in the historical record.
But everything changed not long ago.
Zhu Huakui had died in terror.
They said that in the middle of the night, a monster had crawled into the princely residence. The prince had hidden under his bed and been frightened to death.
No heirs. No successor.
The title of Prince of Chu could not remain vacant.
So the court officials had no choice. They hauled Zhu Huadie out from obscurity, placed him onto the gilded folding chair, and declared solemnly, "From this day forward, Your Highness is the Prince of Chu."
Zhu Huadie had nearly fainted on the spot.
He knew exactly how his brother had died.
During the rebel turmoil, refugees had fled toward Wuchang seeking shelter. His brother had refused to open the gates. Worse, he had personally shot and wounded a commoner with a crossbow.
Public resentment had boiled over.
People whispered that the vengeful spirits of the suffering masses had taken form, turning into a monster that crept into the prince's residence at night and claimed his life.
Whether that story was true or not, Zhu Huadie did not dare test it.
The moment he took power, he ordered Wuchang's gates thrown open.
Refugees were welcomed without restriction.
To make his sincerity clear, he even hung an enormous banner over the city gate that read:
"My home's gates are always open. I welcome you with open arms."
The refugees did not bother with formalities. War raged outside. Survival came first. They flooded into Wuchang in great numbers.
Soon, the city was packed to the brim.
People expected grain prices to skyrocket.
But something unexpected happened.
Huge transport fleets sailed along the river at regular intervals. Each time they passed Wuchang, they unloaded massive quantities of grain. Relief gruel was distributed daily. A grain shop was opened to sell rice at fair prices.
If you had money, you could buy food at a reasonable rate.
If you had no money, you could line up for porridge.
It was not luxurious, but no one starved.
Amid the chaos outside, Wuchang stood firm.
Ironically, the most miserable person in the entire city was Zhu Huadie himself.
Every night before sleeping, he checked under his bed again and again.
Whenever he sat on the gilded folding chair, his heart pounded wildly.
He burned incense daily. He bowed to Buddha. He prayed to every god and immortal he could think of, begging them to keep the monster away.
At sixty-six years old, the constant fear was wearing him down.
"Report!"
A palace guard rushed in, breathing hard.
"The bandit army of the Eight Great Kings is loitering outside the city again."
Zhu Huadie waved irritably.
"What are the Eight Great Kings compared to a monster? The monster is the real terror! Have you invited the Daoist Master I requested?"
The guard swallowed.
"Yes, Your Highness. Ma Tianzheng, True Master of the Quanzhen Longmen Sect, is arriving by boat. Scouts say he will reach the south water gate within half an hour."
Zhu Huadie leapt to his feet.
"Half an hour? Why didn't you report sooner? Prepare the sedan chair! This prince will personally welcome Master Ma."
He hurried to straighten his robes, making sure every detail was flawless. Then he assembled his most ceremonial honor guard and headed toward the south water gate.
---
At the same time, outside Wuchang's north gate, the main force of the Eight Great Kings lingered.
On the city wall, the Prefect of Wuchang stood grim-faced. Around him were aging garrison troops and a handful of militiamen with pitiful combat ability.
He felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.
"Has the Prince of Chu arrived yet?" he asked anxiously. "We need his guards to help defend the city."
A subordinate bowed.
"Your Excellency, the prince's honor guard has left the residence."
The Prefect sighed in relief.
Not even two minutes later, another subordinate rushed up.
"Your Excellency… the prince's honor guard is heading toward the south water gate."
"The south gate?" The Prefect stared in disbelief. "The enemy is at the north gate! Is he trying to flee? A prince cannot leave his fief without authorization. Even attempting it is a capital offense!"
"He appears to be welcoming someone."
The Prefect nearly choked.
Before he could explode in anger, a rebel general outside the north gate shouted up at the walls.
"Prefect of Wuchang! Hand over all your gold, silver, jewels, and grain immediately! If we breach the city, not a single living thing will survive!"
The Prefect roared back,
"You madmen! All of you are insane! If you want this city, come and take it! I will fight you to the death!"
---
Meanwhile, at the south water gate.
Zhu Huadie stood on the wall, peering anxiously at the river.
A small boat approached slowly.
On it stood a Daoist priest in flowing robes.
Ma Tianzheng.
He carried himself with ethereal calm, an air of detachment and transcendence. Years of traveling and preaching the glory of Dao Xuan Tianzun had made him widely known. Even before he spoke, his presence alone commanded attention.
The boat touched the dock.
Ordinary passengers would disembark clumsily.
Ma Tianzheng did not.
With a sharp slap against the scabbard on his back, his three-foot azure blade slid free with a clear metallic ring.
He caught it in a reverse grip and began a dazzling series of sword movements.
The blade flashed like flowing water.
His robes billowed.
Moving with the momentum of his sword, he seemed almost to float from the boat onto the shore. Once on land, he performed another swift sequence of Quanzhen sword techniques and intoned solemnly,
"Heaven and Earth without limit. The cosmos obeys my command. By decree of Dao Xuan Tianzun, manifest!"
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the sword skyward.
The blade spun twice in the air.
Then, with a crisp ring, it dropped neatly back into its scabbard behind him.
Perfect.
He had practiced that move for twenty years.
The spectacle left everyone stunned.
Zhu Huadie's eyes shone.
This was it. This was the man.
He hurried forward and bowed deeply.
"True Master, save me!"
Ma Tianzheng looked at him calmly.
"I hear Wuchang is plagued by a monster."
Zhu Huadie's eyes reddened instantly.
"Yes! A monster! I have not slept peacefully for days. Every night I check under my bed a hundred times…"
Ma Tianzheng raised a hand.
"Silence. Say nothing more. Allow this humble Daoist to divine the matter."
Zhu Huadie shut his mouth immediately.
Even the Emperor could not have commanded him so effectively.
Ma Tianzheng formed a hand seal. His fingers shifted in complex patterns, swift and precise. After a long moment, he exhaled softly.
"I understand."
Zhu Huadie leaned forward eagerly.
"You understand what, True Master?"
"Come with me."
Ma Tianzheng flicked his sleeves and walked into the city.
Though it was clearly his first time in Wuchang, he strode confidently through the streets as if he had lived there for years.
Zhu Huadie hurried after him.
A long line of princely guards followed.
Behind them, several guards exchanged uneasy glances.
One muttered under his breath,
"Isn't he just a swindler?"
No one dared say it louder.