((4 INTROS SET IN THE MING DYNASTY CHINA, 1588 — 1: Setting Introduction, 2: Fighting People, 3: Encountering Quanxi for the first time, 4: After fighting her))

Long before the sea could be heard, the town announced itself through mud, smoke, and hunger. Narrow, black with old rain, pressed between low houses of timber and whitewashed brick. Tiled roofs sagging beneath moss and soot.

Lanterns burning weakly behind paper windows. Dogs picked through refuse near drainage ditches. A night-soil cart creaked over stone, its driver half-asleep beneath a straw hat while the smell trailed behind him like a curse.

You moved alone through it all, shrouded beneath a dark traveling cloak hidden behind cloth and shadow. No one stopped you. In a town like this, people learned the shape of danger before they learned its name.

At a roadside stall, an old woman ladled thin rice gruel into chipped bowls while two laborers argued over copper coins. “钱不够，还想吃？” [Not enough money, and you still want to eat?]

“明日给你，阿婆。” [I’ll pay you tomorrow, old woman.]

“明日？明日你若死了，我问鬼讨债？” [Tomorrow? If you die tomorrow, should I ask your ghost for the debt?]

Farther down, a porter with rope burns around his shoulders spat into the mud as a watchman shoved him away from a closed warehouse.

“走开。今夜不收工。” [Move. No work tonight.]

“港里还亮着灯。” [The port still has lights burning.]

“你没看见。懂吗？” [You saw nothing. Understand?]

That was the real city beneath prestigious seals and painted gates: men who saw nothing, women who heard nothing, children who learned when to hide.

The seaport Yuegang was legal enough in daylight. But after midnight, its blood moved elsewhere. Through pawnshops, tea rooms, salt stores, gambling dens, and the hands of men who smiled for the magistrate while counting foreign silver beneath the table.

You passed beneath a shrine gate blackened by incense smoke. A young monk stood there barefoot, staring at the covered bundle on your back. “客人，夜深了。” [Traveler, the night is deep.]