Zhang Luo said plainly, “I understand everything you’ve mentioned. However, collaborating with the Wuliu Tribe is far more critical than trading slaves. It’s not something I can accomplish alone – it requires the cooperation of the Dingyi Commandery Administrator.”
Wu Geqi replied, “I’ve come to Jianping to ask who will be appointed as the commandery administrator in Dingyi after the New Year.”
In the Great Zhou, scholars have long upheld the virtue of keeping promises and are particularly wary of rebellious acts. Thus, Wu Geqi felt it necessary to establish early contact with the future administrator and reach a preliminary agreement. Otherwise, if the administrator were to first befriend his elder brother, forging such a connection later would likely prove difficult.
Zhang Luo waved his sleeve. “I’ll do my best to gather some information for you, Prince. But appointments and removals of commandery administrator are matters of great importance. Even the inner palace officials would say they have only a fifty percent chance of learning such details in advance.” After a brief pause, he added, “Even if we find out who the administrator will be in advance, that person may not necessarily agree to cooperate with you. In my view, your plan is truly quite risky.”
Wu Geqi’s expression showed no trace of disappointment; instead, a flicker of cold determination flashed across his face. Leaning slightly forward, he lowered his voice and said, “Rest assured. If that commandery administrator is unwilling to cooperate, we can simply replace him with someone more… accommodating.”
His implication was clear – he intended to resort to assassination.
In these times, harsh living conditions often meant that even the highborn could meet their end over trivial matters. Wu Geqi, skilled and bold, had honed a fierce nature through battle. To him, eliminating an uncooperative administrator was merely a straightforward way to solve a problem. As long as it was done carefully, no one might even suspect foul play, passing it off as an unfortunate accident.
Upon hearing these words, Zhang Luo instinctively considered whether he should deliberately provide a false name to set Wu Geqi up, using him as a tool to eliminate a rival while also drawing trouble upon the Wuliu Tribe – a move that would serve a dual purpose. Yet, in that brief moment, he suppressed the impulse. As one who saw himself as the Emperor’s loyal hound, he could not recklessly stir up trouble like a stray mad dog when his master had not yet given the order to attack.
Wu Geqi pressed for confirmation, “What do you think?”
Zhang Luo glanced at him, then replied deliberately, “It seems you are quite skilled in martial arts.”
Indeed, Wu Geqi was proud of his prowess. At this, he lifted his head high and declared in a resonant voice, “I wouldn’t claim to be a match for a hundred men, but against a few scholars, I am at least seventy to eighty percent confident.”
Hearing such unwavering confidence, Zhang Luo’s tone instead grew noticeably displeased. “Jianping is heavily guarded. You must not act as freely here as you would in your own tribe, or you will undoubtedly bring trouble upon others.”
His words were stern, yet the fact that he expressed concern for his own safety showed his willingness to cooperate with Wu Geqi. This approach, rather than simply agreeing with everything the young prince said, actually earned the borderland leader’s trust even more.
Glancing up at the darkening sky, Zhang Luo stood up leisurely. “It’s already quite late now. To be cautious, I’ll leave through the side gate first. You should depart from the back door a quarter of an hour later, to avoid being noticed by anyone watching.” He paused briefly before adding a stern warning, “If we are discovered, everything we discussed earlier will be considered void.”
Wu Geqi grumbled inwardly about the cunning and timidity of the Central Plains people, yet he had to admit that Zhang Luo’s arrangements were sound. He held his patience and remained where he was.
To facilitate their scheming discussions, no attendants were present in the inner room. The tea stove had long since gone cold, and in the depths of winter, both inside and outside felt bitterly chilly. The water in the cup cooled rapidly. With nothing else to do, Wu Geqi took another sip, only to find the cold tea unbearably bitter. He set the cup down once more.
It occurred to Wu Geqi that, during his time in Jianping, he had indeed picked up some of the delicate, pampered habits of the Central Plains people.
After Zhang Luo’s departure, the surroundings fell into a deep silence, utterly soundless.
Wu Geqi grew increasingly restless. At first, it was merely impatience from waiting, but the vigilance honed through years of battle suddenly sharpened his senses. The hairs on his back stood on end. In a flash, he rose to his feet, abandoning the idea of leaving through the back door. Instead, he strode swiftly into the courtyard, intending to scale the wall to make his escape.
The young prince of the Wuliu Tribe took two or three quick steps up the bricks and stones. Just as he was about to clear the top of the wall, a long spear abruptly thrust toward his chest and abdomen.
A fierce gust of wind swept the snow from the wall. The silver spear gleamed like a dragon, tearing suddenly through the clouds!
With nowhere to dodge, Wu Geqi pushed off the wall with his feet and dropped back into the courtyard. His reflexes were sharp – the moment he realized someone lay in ambush, he rolled on the spot, intending to retreat into the building to use the terrain for defense. However, the one who had thrust the spear did not pursue him into the courtyard. Instead, they stood atop the wall, drew a longbow, and, from that commanding height, sent an arrow hurtling down at him.
With a thunderous twang, the bowstring echoed like a clap of lightning. The assailant’s spear technique was already incredibly swift, yet their archery surpassed even that speed. Mid-air, the arrow shot like a falling star, racing toward its target. The fierce wind of its passage struck Wu Geqi’s face. With a roar, he swung both arms up, muscles bulging, and caught the lightning-fast arrow barehanded.
This feat alone proved he had every right to be called a match for a hundred men.
In the borderlands, where martial prowess is revered, such a fierce warrior – even without the noble birth of a chieftain – would undoubtedly command respect and loyalty.
Wu Geqi gripped the arrow shaft tightly, blood welling from the flesh between his thumb and forefinger and the palms of his hands. He roared again, ready to hurl the arrow back at the figure on the wall, when suddenly a searing pain exploded in his back as if struck by an iron hammer.
Drawing on his rich combat experience, Wu Geqi instantly realized that the ambush here involved more than just the attacker before him.
Following that first arrow, several more were loosed in quick succession from all sides. He had come to the private residence dressed in Central Plains-style cloth garments, offering little protection for vital areas. Savage as a wild beast, pain only fueled his ferocity. He charged forward, enduring the hail of arrows. For a moment, the surrounding imperial guards struggled to hold him back.
Zhong Zhiwei, the captain of the inner imperial guards and an exceptionally skilled warrior, was tasked with confronting Wu Geqi head-on. Without a second thought, she leaped into the courtyard to engage him in a fierce struggle.
By now, the rain of arrows from the wall had long ceased.
Wu Geqi forced his blood-caked eyes open and stared at the young captain before him. Suddenly, he shouted, his voice filled with bitter resentment, “You are also from the borderlands. What right do you have to kill me?”
Zhong Zhiwei paid him no heed. Gripping the shaft of her spear, she thrust it forward with a gentle yet decisive motion, piercing his heart. Then, shaking the blood from the spear tip, she sneered, “Fool!”
For a brief moment, she had wanted to ask him in return – since they were both from the borderlands, why had he treated the slaves sent to Jianping in such a manner?
Once the chaos in the courtyard had settled, Zhang Luo walked over with a genial smile and praised, “Captain, your bravery is truly unmatched!”
Zhong Zhiwei humbly demurred.
In the Great Zhou, it was customary for palace eunuchs to command the inner imperial guards. As a result, officers in the imperial guard always treated the Emperor’s trusted eunuchs with particular courtesy, wary that one might suddenly become their superior.
Wu Geqi was already dead. His head was swiftly dispatched by fast horse to the borderlands, accompanied by a letter from the Great Zhou.
The letter stated that the Great Zhou governed through loyalty and filial piety. Since the chieftain of the Wuliu Tribe was a legitimate leader recognized and enfeoffed by the imperial court, upon learning that someone intended to betray his lord, the court had taken the initiative to resolve the trouble on his behalf.
Zhong Zhiwei remarked, “After all, we have no solid evidence. The chieftain of the Wuliu Tribe may not be willing to believe it.”
Zhang Luo smiled and replied, “Her Majesty has said that evidence is not essential, nor does a flawless case matter. What truly matters is planting a seed of unease in the chieftain’s heart.”
Zhong Zhiwei felt a sudden insight and gave a slight nod.
Though the Sovereign had only recently ascended the throne, with imperial decrees scarcely reaching beyond Jianzhou, if anyone mistook the Emperor’s current vulnerability as an opportunity to scheme, they would inevitably fall into the trap laid for them.
As news of Wu Geqi’s failure and death reached the palace, Chi Yi was the first to receive the information and immediately went to report it to the Sovereign.
Wen Yanran was reading a book and merely nodded upon hearing the news.
Zhang Luo had acted with such decisiveness – truly befitting a future arch-villain. From this, it was clear that her methods of nurturing subordinates were quite effective. Everyone was treading the right path.
Among the various tribes in the borderlands, the Wuliu Tribe was the most powerful and also harbored the deepest animosity toward the Great Zhou. Wen Yanran intended to address the issues with this tribe first, lest they disrupt her carefully laid plans.
While it was regrettable that the key figure could no longer contribute to the cause of incompetent governance, Wen Yanran considered the matter. A temporary advantage meant little – sooner or later, when her true nature as a tyrant was revealed, all such actions would be dismissed by outsiders as militaristic overreach.
Moreover, if what Wu Geqi had said held any truth, his urgency in seeking external support likely indicated that the forces of the Left General were already pressing hard against the chieftain’s faction…
“Ah-Yi, please deliver this box to Minister Dong.”
The Minister Dong Wen Yanran referred to was none other than Dong Fu of the Dong family. Originally the governor of Dingyi Commandery, he had earned an outstanding evaluation and, by regulation, was due for promotion to the central administration.
Since the incident involving the Great Master Xuanyang, the Dong family had kept a low profile. Carrying out her orders, Chi Yi personally delivered the wooden box to their residence.
Inside the box lay the Dong family’s earlier petition, in which they had requested the emperor to strip their noble titles and punish them for their supposed offenses.
With years of experience in governance, Dong Fu quickly grasped the Emperor’s unspoken hint – what they needed to offer in exchange for preserving their noble status. Despite it being the New Year holiday, he immediately submitted a memorial, stating that he still had unfinished matters in Dingyi Commandery and wished to complete them before returning to Jianping to assume his new post.
The Taiqi Palace swiftly responded with approval. Without delay, Dong Fu gathered his guards and attendants, rushing back to his former jurisdiction even before the New Year celebrations had concluded, leaving his advisers behind at home.
Although the Wuliu Tribe was a powerful clan, Wu Geqi himself had entered Jianping under the guise of a mere guard. Thus, his death, at least on the surface, did not stir significant ripples.
Within the residence of Xiao Xichi.
After learning of the turmoil within the Wuliu Tribe, the Qingyi Tribe felt particularly conflicted.
They had long been uncertain about whether to proceed with the Marquis of Quanling’s plan. Just as they finally mustered the courage to take the risk, the Sovereign considerately helped them abandon their previous strategy – since Wu Geqi’s death, the Wuliu Tribe had fallen completely silent and no longer mentioned the slave trade.
Fellow tribesmen in Jianping were abuzz with discussion, but the mistress of this residence, Xiao Xichi, remained alone in her study, her gaze heavy with concern.
Reflecting on past experiences, she realized that although Emperor Li had been cruel, his intentions had been relatively easier to grasp. With caution, she and her subordinates had managed to survive. But since Wen Yanran ascended the throne, Xiao Xichi found it truly difficult to decipher what this Sovereign was truly contemplating.
If the young emperor had been entirely unaware of the Qingyi Tribe’s desire to slip away from the city, Wu Geqi’s head would not have fallen with such precise timing. Yet, if the Emperor had suspected something, why had there been no increased surveillance over the Qingyi Tribe’s people?
Xiao Xichi looked out the window. It was a sunless, overcast day. Because of the Emperor’s unfathomable methods, all restless forces within Jianping had suddenly fallen silent, like ground blanketed by snow.
