Nie Huaisang looks at him. ‘You are confusing me, Clan Leader Jiang, perhaps I misunderstand, but…’ ‘You didn’t misunderstand. You don’t misunderstand. You understand all of it.’ For six months Jiang Cheng has been mulling this over, and now with Nie Huaisang in front of him he can’t figure out if he most wants to knock him down or kneel at his feet. What he does is try and breathe. Clench his hands at his sides. ‘And now I am going to ask you to do something for me. You have to do something for me. You have to help Jin Ling.’

The thing that most people who are not sect leaders fail to understand is that being a sect leader is hard. It’s not the countless duties and obligations, or the crushing weight of responsibility, or even the hours of meetings spent trying not to fall asleep as some stupid merchant who’s never experienced any hardship in his entire overly-fed life drones on and on about how Lanling Jin should compensate him because a stray fierce corpse scared him and made him spill his tea. Or something. It’s that sometimes, despite being a sect leader, there’s still nothing Jin Ling can do to help people. In which Jin Ling turns to masked vigilantism as a way to more effectively help people. Somehow it doesn't all end in disaster.