The civilians and soldiers of Qingshui Camp witnessed the most bizarre horse race ever.
At the starting line, six miserable horses stood in a row. Even after the contestants had painstakingly picked the best from the available lot—the so-called “tallest among the dwarves”—they still looked so scrawny that a strong wind might knock them over.
Half the riders barely managed to mount before their horses wobbled precariously, legs trembling as if they might collapse at any moment. The riders had no choice but to coax them desperately, stroking their heads, smoothing their manes, and piling on the flattery, hoping the poor beasts would at least hold out until the finish line—even if they crawled like tortoises.
Yan Chang, the head of Qingping Farm, was roped into the race as the first runner for the personal competition due to his decent riding skills. He was lean and wiry, and despite his horse’s trembling legs, it managed to carry him.
Feeling lucky, he carefully held the reins, afraid to push the horse too hard, and slowly trotted forward. To his surprise, this conservative approach put him in the lead for nearly half a lap.
Passing by the grandstand, a surge of pride swelled in him. Instinctively, he glanced up at the two high-ranking officials seated at the top.
He recognized Inspector-General Wei immediately—he had been fortunate enough to meet him once before. At that moment, Inspector-General Wei was pointing at him, speaking to the imperial censor beside him.
Could he be praising me for leading the race? Yan Chang felt a secret thrill.
But the new Imperial Censor, Su, was someone he had never seen before. He took a closer look—the man had a youthful, refined appearance, with red lips and white teeth. Yet something about him felt eerily familiar…
Imperial Censor Su slowly lifted his tea cup and took a sip.
Suddenly, Yan Chang remembered—Tea… Songluo tea! A certain young gentleman claiming to be surnamed Su had once used a box of Songluo tea as an excuse to gain entry to Qingping Farm, pretending he wanted to buy horses. In the end, he had tricked Yan Chang so thoroughly that the 500 horses he had painstakingly hidden away were all seized by Zhang Qianhu of the Ningxia Guard. He had lost everything—his horses, his money, everything!
That cursed conman Su Sanlang—it was him!
Conman… Imperial Censor… Had he been baited into a trap? He was doomed! That b*stard Su knew everything—what kind of punishment was he planning? Would he even survive this?
Yan Chang’s face turned ashen, his body deflating in despair. His horse, already unsteady, lost balance as well. Its front legs buckled, and it crashed to its knees.
Yan Chang tumbled to the ground, eating dust. Terrified of being recognized, he frantically yanked at the reins, trying to get the horse back on its feet.
But the poor creature, already frail and ill, only felt pain from the iron bit digging into its mouth. Instead of standing up, it simply gave up altogether—its back legs folded, and it collapsed completely, panting heavily through its nostrils.
Panic-stricken, Yan Chang tried everything—pulling, coaxing, slapping the horse’s flank—but no matter how hard he struggled, the animal refused to budge.
From the grandstand, Su Yan watched lazily, idly skimming tea leaves with his cup lid as he observed the scene below.
Yan Chang, sweating profusely, glanced up and saw Su Yan’s expression—completely at ease, as if he were simply watching a minor spectacle. A chill ran down Yan Chang’s spine.
Meanwhile, Li Si from Lingwu Bureau was steadily catching up. He was riding a mangy, bald-patched nag that trudged forward at an agonizingly slow pace. Still, he couldn’t resist taunting: “Oh? Manager Yan, weren’t you leading just now? What happened? Out of steam already? Looks like the personal race champion will be mine.”
Yan Chang, already on edge, snapped back, “That rotten nag of yours is nothing but bones! I bet it won’t even last a full lap before collapsing. Just wait and see!”
Li Si chuckled, about to overtake Yan Chang, when a clear voice rang out from the grandstand:
“Hey, you faker—how’s that bump on your forehead healing?”
Li Si’s heart skipped a beat. He looked up and met Su Yan’s amused gaze.
Suddenly, it all came back to him—that was the young master from the carriage! The one he had tried to scam for ten taels of silver by pretending to have a broken leg! The very same one whose guards had hung him upside down from a second-floor laundry pole and kicked a lump onto his forehead!
That seemingly refined young master had a mouth as sharp as a blade and was downright vicious!
Later, under the persuasion of Wang Jianzheng, Li Si had thought he had managed to shake off this ill-starred encounter. He had even convinced himself to let bygones be bygones. Who could have guessed that the “young master” was actually an imperial censor?
This was bad. Forget his eggs—he might not even be able to keep his head!
Forcing a ghastly, twisted grin, Li Si spurred his horse forward, hoping to put as much distance as possible between himself and Su Yan.
But his mangy nag, startled by the sudden whip, panicked. Its spine sagged, its belly rumbled ominously, and then—
It let loose an explosive spray of diarrhea.
The stench-filled mess splattered everywhere, coating Li Si from head to toe. Worse still, its tail flicked as it defecated, sending a fresh spray right onto Yan Chang, drenching him in filth.
The stench was so overwhelming that Yan Chang nearly fainted on the spot.
Yan Chang, blinded by rage, lunged forward, yanking Li Si off his horse and raising his fist to strike.
Li Si was not one to back down. He grabbed Yan Chang by the neck, and the two men started brawling, rolling together into a foul-smelling ball of horse dung.
On the viewing platform, Inspector-General Wei was momentarily stunned, then erupted in fury. “This is utterly disgraceful! Guards, drag these two scoundrels off the field and give them twenty lashes!”
The guards hesitated, reluctant to step forward—it was simply too filthy and foul-smelling. Instead, they looked toward the race supervisors to restore order.
The supervisors, subordinates of Lingzhou’s military officer Huo Dun, were hardened by battlefield experience and had a higher tolerance for discomfort than the governor’s pampered guards. Pinching their noses, they stepped forward, separated the fighting officials with long sticks, and drove them off the field. Once outside, their trousers were yanked down, and they were given a good spanking.
Meanwhile, in the waiting area, Li Siqing of Imperial Stables and Xue Shaoqing of the Imperial Horses watched the spectacle with grim faces. Seeing such a group of fools under their command made them feel utterly humiliated.
The remaining four contestants in the individual race saw this as their golden opportunity to gain the lead. They urged their horses forward with all their might. The more resourceful ones called for their teammates to bring premium bean cakes and fresh fodder, hoping to gain an edge with a last-minute boost. Unfortunately, the horses, having suffered long-term abuse, had already sustained internal injuries. They couldn’t stomach the high-quality feed, and no matter how much their riders coaxed them like they were revered ancestors, the animals stubbornly refused to move.
Seeing the race stagnate, the Embroidered Uniform Guard acting as referees sought instructions from Su Yan. With his approval, they released the competitors for the second and third rounds simultaneously. Since the final ranking was based on the combined time of three racers per team, it made no difference whether they ran a relay or raced together.
Thus, the racecourse became a chaotic scene: some horses foaming at the mouth, some kicking wildly, some stumbling sideways, some lying flat on the ground refusing to move.
The riders were equally diverse—some trembling in fear, some shouting in frustration, some drenched in sweat as they struggled to pull their horses forward, and some desperately pleading with their mounts like they were praying to deities.
The audience responded with resounding boos.
Inspector-General Wei, unable to bear it any longer, turned to Su Yan. “Censor Su, this horse race has become absolutely… absurd. Should we call it off?”
Su Yan smiled and personally poured him a cup of tea. “No rush, no rush, Inspector-General Wei. Please stay a while longer. The team competition is next, and we haven’t even released the special ‘surprise’ yet.”
Something about Su Yan’s gaze and smirk made Inspector-General Wei hesitate. After all, he was seated in a cushioned chair, sipping fine tea, nibbling on exquisite pastries, and enjoying the company of beautiful attendants. Why leave now? So, he settled back down to watch.
On the racecourse, the sixteen competing officials were drenched in sweat. Some, too furious to endure any longer, tried to walk away. However, as soon as they stepped a few paces from their horses, fierce-looking Embroidered Uniform Guard enforcers with cudgels closed in on them, ready to drag them back for a beating. With no other choice, they shrank back and resigned themselves to their struggle with the horses.
After half an hour of torment, most competitors had finally completed five laps, but with five more to go, the finish line still seemed impossibly far.
Su Yan, in an act of mock benevolence, ordered the announcer, “It seems the individual race has encountered some difficulties. But that’s alright—let’s harness the power of teamwork to help them. Have the team competitors mount their horses immediately. In fifteen minutes, we will release the ‘surprise element.’ Everyone should make good use of the time and reach the finish line as quickly as possible.”
A chorus of wails erupted from the field.
After witnessing the pitiful state of the government horses and the suffering of the individual racers, the officials finally understood—this new imperial censor was using the race as an excuse to humiliate them!
They loudly protested and even threatened to withdraw from the competition.
Su Yan ignored them entirely. With the Embroidered Uniform Guard and Huo Dun’s soldiers blocking the exits, no one was getting out.
Frustrated, the officials refused to cooperate. They sat on the ground, waiting to see how the young censor would handle the situation.
Su Yan checked his pocket watch. After seven and a half minutes, he gave the command: “Release the surprise.”
On the far side of the racecourse, a gate swung open, and a pack of ferocious dogs burst out, snarling and baring their teeth. They charged at the officials with terrifying speed, saliva dripping from their jaws as if they hadn’t eaten in days.
The officials were struck with terror!
All thoughts of protest vanished in an instant. They scrambled to their feet, tripping over themselves in a frantic attempt to mount any horse in sight. With no time to distinguish between their own steeds and others, they clawed their way onto the saddles and spurred the horses into a mad gallop.
Li Siqing, being excessively overweight, crushed three horses in a row trying to mount them. Each time he climbed on, the horse collapsed under his weight. Seeing the dogs getting closer, he screamed in despair, “Someone! Help me! Get me on a horse!”
But in this moment of chaos, everyone was only looking out for themselves—including his own subordinates.
The rising panic spread to the horses. Some sprinted with desperate speed, some bolted in all directions like mad creatures, while others simply gave up, flopping onto the ground as if to say, let the world end—I’m done.
The racecourse turned into a battlefield of human and animal wreckage—an absolute disaster too horrific to watch.
Even Inspector-General Wei could no longer stay seated. He shot up, his face pale. “Su Yan, this is too much! If someone dies, not even an imperial decree will protect you!”
Su Yan stood up leisurely, gazing at the mayhem before him. He replied calmly, “No need to worry, Inspector-General Wei. Barking dogs don’t bite.”
Of course, this had nothing to do with whether they barked or not.
These dogs had been specially trained by a man known as the “Dog Ancestor,” whom Huo Dun had brought in for the occasion.
This eccentric had an uncanny bond with canines, and the dogs he trained were more obedient than county bailiffs and more loyal than one’s own grandchildren. Locals even called him the “Dog King” out of respect—until he angered Zhu Yougou of Pingliang Prefecture and nearly got beaten to death. He barely escaped with his life and wisely changed his title to “Dog Ancestor.”
Huo Dun had personally ensured that these dogs, while appearing fierce and bloodthirsty, would only snap at sleeves and pant legs, never actually breaking the skin.
But the officials, unaware of this, were utterly terrified. They ran for their lives, convinced that a slow step meant death by mauling.
At this moment, to them, any horse that could move was a divine savior. They clung to their mounts, weeping openly.
The racecourse echoed with a cacophony of desperate cries, curses, panicked horse neighs, and deafening dog barks—all blending into a chaotic symphony of terror and misery, swirling above the camp like a dark cloud.
Su Yan looked at the scene in the arena and felt that the timing was just right. He stepped forward to the edge of the viewing platform and rested his hand on the railing.
Jinghong Zhui stood slightly behind him, placing a palm against Su Yan’s back, sending a continuous stream of internal energy into his body.
Su Yan cleared his throat and spoke. His voice was not loud, yet it resonated like the tolling of a bell, crisp and clear, reaching every ear in the audience—
“Gentlemen.”
The dogs immediately stopped biting, wagging their tails as they returned to “Dog Ancestor” to receive their rewards.
The officials, disheveled and in complete disgrace, turned their heads toward the viewing platform. Many had tears and snot streaking their faces, looking both dazed from surviving the ordeal and furious at the humiliation.
“I know that right now, in your hearts, you think I, Su, am nothing short of inhuman.”
“But from my perspective, none of you are any better.”
“Most of you are nothing but useless parasites, leeches draining the empire’s lifeblood, selfish traitors to the nation, and shortsighted fools!”
“You sit in the Offices of the Imperial Stables, Imperial Studs, and the Two Supervisories and Six Horse Farms, enjoying the court’s salaries, yet you do nothing but idly waste your positions. You believe your offices lack wealth and power, and because of this, you resign yourselves to neglecting your duties, letting matters rot away.”
“Take Li Rong, Li Siqing of the Imperial Horse Bureau—three years in office, yet he feigns illness daily and never even shows up. His subordinates have never seen his face. Yan Chengxue, the Siqing of the Imperial Studs, avoids political affairs altogether, hiding in Qingshui Camp without handling a single responsibility. With such rotten leadership, how could their subordinates be any different?”
“You officials in charge of the horse farms steal and resell the imperial horses to line your own pockets. The herdsmen, unable to endure their hardships, vent their frustrations by abusing the horses. As a result, the pastures are abandoned, and our warhorses are as frail as starving corpses.”
“The Tea and Salt Tax Bureaus—cowardly and submissive before military officers’ sons and noble clans—turn a blind eye to their smuggling. Because of this, illegal tea and salt flood the market, draining the empire’s tax revenue.”
“The border commanders, in their greed, use military horses for smuggling goods and privately breed warhorses to sell to the army, embezzling the funds allocated for national defense. As a result, our cavalry lacks strong horses, their training is worthless, and morale crumbles.”
“The aristocrats and powerful clans seize pastureland for their own estates, leaving less land for the imperial horse farms. The once vast 1.3 million hectares of grasslands have been reduced to 600,000—half is gone! Out of the Four Supervisories and Eighteen Horse Farms, only two supervisory offices and six farms remain operational.”
With each accusation, the faces of the implicated officials and military officers turned ashen. Their dark secrets, now dragged into the daylight, filled them with dread. The fear of being held accountable under imperial law left them speechless and drenched in cold sweat.
Su Yan suddenly slammed his hand against the railing, his voice thundering: “You all screamed in terror when chased by mere dogs, fearing the horror of having no horse to ride! But the Tatar hordes are a thousand times more vicious than these dogs—tell me, how will our soldiers defend the nation if they have no warhorses to ride?!”
“The peace you enjoy today was bought with the blood and flesh of our soldiers! You should be working hand in hand with them to protect the empire—so why have you instead become termites gnawing at its foundation, tearing down our Great Wall from within?! Do you think that when the Tatars breach our borders, it won’t be your homeland they trample? That it won’t be your families they slaughter? That it won’t be your wives and children who suffer?”
“This isn’t ignorance on your part—it’s deliberate greed! You assume the empire is vast, its wealth boundless, and that stealing a little here and there won’t matter. But have you ever considered that when termites multiply beyond control, even a mighty mountain will crumble?”
Su Yan took the Imperial Sword from Jinghong Zhui’s hands and, in one swift motion, unsheathed it. He swung it down onto the railing before him, splitting the sturdy wooden barrier cleanly in two!
“The horse administration of Shaanxi will be investigated and reformed—no stone will be left unturned! As long as there is even one idle official left in position, one patch of stolen pasture yet to be returned, one warhorse illicitly traded, this sword of mine shall not return to its sheath! Let those corrupt officials and treacherous nobles be ready to hand me their heads!”
A heavy silence fell over the entire arena. It was unclear whether they were more shaken by his fierce reprimand or by the Imperial Sword, a symbol of the emperor’s absolute authority—granting Su Yan the power to execute without prior approval.
Su Yan exhaled deeply.
Inspector-General Wei, his mouth slightly agape in shock, remained silent for a long while before finally bowing and cupping his hands.
“…All of Shaanxi’s officials shall obey.”
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