In a great city somewhere in Jiangnan, poplar blossoms stretched for ten miles, while travelers passed through generation after generation.
On a painted pleasure boat somewhere, scholars and men of letters wielded their brushes, composing poems on the breeze and moon, listening to songs and getting massages, enjoying themselves immensely.
Suddenly, someone said, "Have you heard? The Heavenly Saint Army of the Demon Sect has already taken ten cities in a row. They'll soon be attacking Jiangnan!"
"Strange. Why haven't the major sects made a move yet?" a young master asked, waving his fan without the slightest concern.
"The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the Oriole Behind. The Demon Sect is merely clearing the way for others. Those major sects are all old foxes. How was the Great Yan Dynasty established? Didn't they pick the most promising force and support it?" someone said, shaking his head.
The speaker was a middle-aged scholar. His clothes were plain, even somewhat worn, but clean.
"Oh, brother Li, you seem to know quite a lot. The night is fine—why not tell us about the great trends of the realm? Which force is most likely to be chosen by them?" Someone ordered the middle-aged scholar a pot of fine wine and spoke.
"Very well." After downing two mouthfuls, the scholar immediately grew animated. "The trend of the realm is that long unity must divide. Great Yan has now ruled for nearly three hundred years, and the time for division has come again."
"To the north are the Tartars, to the west the bandits, at the center the Demon Sect, and in the south the native chieftains. Trouble blooms on all sides, and instability reigns in every direction. Though His Majesty strives diligently to govern, he is constrained at every turn. What can he do?"