# 451
**Chapter 451 – I Have Faith in You**
Seeing this, Ninth Seat sighed helplessly. He waved the women away; they left, still shooting Shen Qingzhu dirty looks over their shoulders.
Shen Qingzhu glanced at them and glared right back.
“…That won’t do,” Ninth Seat said, carrying his wineglass as he sat down beside Shen Qingzhu.
“What won’t?”
“We live with blades at our throats. Our nerves stay taut for months. If you don’t find a release, your mind cracks.” He swirled the liquor. “Everyone needs an outlet. No spring can stay coiled forever. Ordinary folk relax with vacations, movies, sleep, dates, games…
But we’re different. We’re always one breath from death, steeped in the worst of humanity, so our vents turn bloody—killing, looting, torture. Compared to that, women are gentle.”
“I don’t need release,” Shen Qingzhu said flatly.
“You do. I know you’re not the twisted type, yet you won’t even touch a woman. That’s not normal for a lad brimming with vigor.”
“What about Night Watch? They’re under the same pressure, facing death just as often. Why don’t they need your kind of vent?”
“Different.” Ninth Seat shook his head. “Know why Night Watch moves in squads?”
“Teamwork?”
“Partly. The rest is this: when the pressure peaks, they lean on one another. Jokes, banter—shared weight. That’s why every top squad has its clown. You think they’re fools? They’re the smartest, the ones who love the team most.
You? You’re alone. One man isn’t a crowd.”
Shen Qingzhu stared, something dawning in his eyes.
“What’s your release, then?” he asked.
Ninth Seat smiled, nodding toward the departing beauties. “Wine and women—who can resist? I’m old, but still a man. Kill when it’s time, enjoy when it’s time. No pointless cruelty, no rude intrusions. That, I think, is the best way to walk in darkness.”
Shen Qingzhu studied him. “You don’t feel like a Believer. More like… a bandit-hero.”
Ninth Seat blinked, then laughed. The laugh slowly faded.
“When I was young I loved Water Margin—outcasts twisted by fate, banding together, thumbing their noses at the world, robbing the rich yet shielding the poor. When Yiyu found me, he painted a picture of the perfect, just society that would dawn after the邪 gods returned. I was young, burning with ideals, wounded by reality. I thought society needed fixing, and Believers were the Liangshan carrying salvation. Yiyu was my Song Jiang.
At first I met kindred spirits; we wore the name Believers like a badge of honor. Then… things changed.”
He stared into his cup, voice low.
“Some of Yiyu’s orders made no sense, but I obeyed out of trust. The orders kept coming. Members rotated. The organization grew alien. I shut my eyes, stopped judging right or wrong, and simply killed on faith.
Somewhere along the way, I lost ‘me.’”
He drained the glass in one gulp.
Shen Qingzhu watched, sorrow in his eyes.
Ninth Seat couldn’t see it, but Shen Qingzhu knew: talk of a perfect society, of Liangshan, was just bait. That “trust” was a soul-contract Yiyu had planted. He wasn’t refusing reality—he was forbidden to accept it, forced to pledge blind loyalty. His mind was chained.
Without the Reversal Jade to break that contract, Shen Qingzhu would be the same—another hollow blade for Yiyu.
Many Believers had been lured this way; most lost themselves in the dark. Yet Ninth Seat, though bound, still clung to some inner line. That surprised Shen Qingzhu.
“I can feel you’re different,” Ninth Seat murmured, eyes glassy with drink. “Your eyes hold something the others lost—what I once had. I’m old; you’re young, with greater potential. Maybe you can change Believers, lead us to the glory Yiyu promised.”
He patted Shen Qingzhu’s shoulder and smiled. “I have faith in you.”
Shen Qingzhu met his gaze, then quietly looked away.