This public trial, which made the next day’s official gazette headline, lasted three whole hours. It ended only after Su Yan publicly announced a full investigation into the prime suspects of the Baizhifang explosion—the Void Sect. The masterminds would be captured and interrogated, and even accomplices with high status or noble ties would not be spared. The crowd’s roar of approval thundered as the event concluded.
The high platform was not immediately dismantled, but the white cloth lowered from it was torn down by some citizens and trampled on the ground in anger. The red lotus imprint and the black character were covered in dirt and stains.
Seeing this scene, Su Yan’s mind suddenly jumped to those red lotus marks hidden in alleys and on walls. In the future, he thought, whenever they were painted, people would surely circle and cross them out with slashes or imitate the “fraud” character — just like demolition crews painting over walls in later times — and he couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Censor Su.” Someone called out.
He turned to see that Zuo Guangbi had already left without notice, and the voice came from Censor Chu Qiu of the Censorate, so he greeted him: “Censor Chu.”
Chu Qiu said, “Censor Su, your courage is admirable. Have you thought about how to deal with the retaliation and counterattacks? The Wei family has the Empress Dowager backing them, and the Void Sect is deeply rooted and hidden among the city and countryside. Both overt and covert attacks are bound to come.”
Su Yan recalled that Emperor Jinglong once said he was placing himself on a pyre to be burned, so he nodded: “Thanks for the reminder, Censor Chu. Wherever the path lies, even if faced with millions, I will go forth.”
This quote was well-chosen; upon hearing it, Chu Qiu became solemn and cupped his hands in respect: “You are a kindred spirit.”
Su Yan had been an official in the court for a year and, as a censor, knew something about the Censorate. He regarded Chu Qiu as a truly upright and principled official, so he had recruited him to the investigation team. After meeting in person, his impression improved even more, and he replied earnestly, “There is an order to learning. Lord Chu is my senior.”
Chu Qiu replied, “Just a few years older, so I dare not call myself senior. Just call me by my courtesy name, ‘Lingchuan.’”
Su Yan smiled, “Then Brother Lingchuan, you may call me ‘Qinghe.’”
Though they met with just a bow, their spirits connected deeply. They smiled at each other and had made friends.
After the crowd dispersed, Su Yan did not take the official sedan chair but rode in a carriage, escorted by guards back to his residence.
A moment later, Yu Wang caught up on horseback.
Su Yan feared he was coming to keep watch again, so after thanking him once more, he excused himself, saying he was very tired and wanted to go home early to sleep, having no energy to entertain guests.
Yu Wang sneered, “This expelling guest order is a bit like burning the bridge after crossing it. But I don’t want to compete with the guards sent by the emperor’s brother for your spare bed outside the bedroom. Qinghe, you worry too much.”
Su Yan blushed red and thought, “If you’re not here to flirt, then why block my carriage?”
Yu Wang seemed to hear his inner thoughts and leaned down to whisper, “Just a reminder—Huanghua Lane is to the north, adjacent to my mansion’s Chengqing Lane. But your carriage is heading west. The driver must be lost, going the wrong way.”
Su Yan had originally planned to first visit the Shen residence in Xiaoshiyong Lane to see Shen Qi before going home. Now that his plan was seen through, he felt a bit embarrassed. Also worried Yu Wang might follow and disturb the still recovering Shen Qi, he instructed: “Driver, turn right up ahead, go to the Su residence in Huanghua Lane.”
Yu Wang’s plan succeeded, and with a good expression, he escorted Su Yan to his gate. Seeing Su Yan enter with several guards, he said “Take care” and turned his horse to leave.
Su Yan wanted to be angry but couldn’t bring himself to be, since Yu Wang had helped a lot that night. Although he deliberately ruined Su Yan’s date with Shen Qi, he didn’t cling like before and seemed quite graceful.
He could only laugh and curse him as a “scheming dog,” then sent a servant to deliver a note to Shen’s residence saying he had business and would visit tomorrow.
But when “tomorrow” came, he got busy with official duties and ended up delaying the visit until after nightfall.
They say strike while the iron is hot, and the public opinion war was the same.
The public trial was only the beginning. Under Su Yan’s plan, each of the five city districts set up “Void Sect Victim Reporting Centers” in busy marketplaces, managed by their local military offices, publicly accepting complaints.
At first, citizens only came to watch the spectacle. Even if they had grievances, none dared to be the first to speak out.
The victims that Su Yan had instructed Shi Yanshuang and Wei Ying to find became useful. Wan Xin, as expected, was a businessman at heart who had contact with many sect members wanting to develop business opportunities. His testimony was detailed but credible.
For example: a certain leader deceived female believers under the guise of preaching; some commoner’s hysterical family member was treated as an evil spirit and burned alive by sect members; some believers sold everything to pay for healing and karma-clearing, ending up ruined with family destroyed… and so on.
These victims had no way to appeal and were afraid of the sect’s “magic power,” so they had to silently endure. But a team of imperial secret police arrived, offering encouragement and financial rewards for those “brave enough to expose evil forces.” They even helped write complaints and urged them to report to the centers set up by the five districts’ military offices.
Finally, a few victims were persuaded to submit complaints and publicly describe the Void Sect’s crimes—and they indeed received rewards afterward.
Seeing others gain rewards, more and more people who had suffered harm, believer or not, came forward with accusations.
At the reporting centers’ podiums, women tearfully accused sect members of r*pe; elderly parents cried, pleading for their sons to come back to life; some who had lost benches, cooking pots, or watchdogs blamed the Void Sect.
Various damaging rumors spread from one to ten, from ten to a hundred, snowballing through the capital and surrounding regions, becoming ironclad proof that the Void Sect was a calamity to the nation and people.
Such is often the way of the world: once reputation collapses, everyone piles on, and recovery becomes almost impossible.
The slips and reports exposing them were so numerous the Imperial Guards grew weary counting them all.
More and more common folk rushed over at the news, jostling and pushing to file complaints. Some fierce, martial men even directly captured minor leaders of the Void Sect, bringing them in to claim the special task force’s second-level reward — the “Citizen Bravery Award.”
The captured minor leaders of the Void Sect had the bad luck of bearing the brunt of the people’s fury first, mercilessly bombarded with rotten eggs and decayed leaves without chance to explain themselves.
The scene was truly like “when the tree falls, the monkeys scatter; when the wall collapses, everyone pushes,” ending only with an empty, messy heap.
“See that? This is the power of the people. As the saying goes, drown the enemy in the sea of a people’s war—” Su Yan had just stepped off the carriage when he accidentally stepped on a rotten vegetable leaf on the ground and nearly slipped. Fortunately, Shi Yanshuang nearby caught his collar in time.
After steadying himself and adjusting his clothes, Su Yan felt a bit embarrassed, cleared his throat, and changed the subject: “Uh, the plants you arranged for the public trial yesterday were quite good, very natural expressions and reasonable lines…”
“Sorry, Lord Su,” Shi Yanshuang cut him off awkwardly, “actually, those weren’t planted actors, they were real citizens. The Imperial Guards did place undercover agents in the crowd, but unexpectedly the public’s emotions were so stirred by Your Excellency’s speech that everyone spoke freely and sincerely. Our agents only shouted ‘Fraudulent Cult’ a few times at the start, so they weren’t much help…”
Su Yan was stunned: this cooperation was truly remarkable! No wonder this was the capital, under the emperor’s feet—the common people’s ideological awareness was high indeed.
He wondered how other prefectures that had also suffered explosions on the second day of the second month were faring. He needed to quickly organize this model of media warfare and report it, so the emperor could spread and promote it widely.
He hadn’t attended the early court today for this reason, but someone had informed him in advance. Yesterday’s uproar was so great—even Wei Jun’s brother-in-law was imprisoned as a tainted witness. The Wei family could not be unaware. Yet at today’s court meeting, the atmosphere was calm; no official from the Wei faction submitted memorials to attack him, nor did anyone even mention the matter.
Su Yan believed that unusual events always have hidden trouble. But where the trouble lay, or when it might strike with a deadly blow, was unknown—he could only raise his own vigilance.
Meanwhile, at the Censorate, led by Chu Qiu, the censors impeached Wei Jun, Marquis Fengan, accusing him of instructing his brother-in-law Wan Xin to collude with the banned Void Sect as accomplices in the Baizhifang explosion.
Because Wei Jun was injured and unable to defend himself in court, he entrusted his elder brother Wei Yan, Marquis Xianan, to present a blood-written memorial to the emperor. As Su Yan predicted, it was full of denials: “completely unaware, deeply grieved, and upholding justice above family,” pleading for a fair judgment and the execution of his brother-in-law. In short, all Wan Xin’s fault, none of the Wei family’s.
Wan Xin, informed of this in the prison, cursed angrily, calling Wei Jun a “crippled old pig-dog who bites after eating buns,” and told Su Yan: “I’ve done my utmost to avoid implicating the Wei family and only submitted evidence against the Void Sect, but he wants to sacrifice me to save himself? If you’re heartless, don’t blame me for being ruthless! Does he think I only care about money and know nothing? The filthiness of the Wei family, just what leaks through the cracks of their fingers, is enough to send Wei Jun to the execution platform three times over.”
Su Yan smiled gently: “Even if you seek revenge on Wei Jun, there’s Wei Yan and Consort Wei—if they so much as flick a finger, they could crush you like an ant.”
Wan Xin burst into tears: “For the sake of my meritorious service reducing my crime, Lord Su, please save me!”
Su Yan patted his shoulder reassuringly: “Actually, I quite like merchants—clear give and take, straightforward, much more likable than those hypocritical pseudo-gentlemen. For now, the prison is the safest place for you. Stay here a while; I’ll order the jailers to treat you well. Regarding the Wei family, write down everything you know. I promise you’ll live.”
Wan Xin had no other hope but to trust and rely on him, so he racked his brain to write down the Wei family’s crimes and evils.
Su Yan knew this alone wasn’t enough to utterly defeat the Wei family at their root. He needed ironclad proof that they were disloyal, plotting rebellion, to make the Empress Dowager cut off her support.
This task, he thought, would inevitably fall to the Void Sect.
If they could capture the sect leader and prove that the Void Sect colluded with the Wei family, deceived the Empress Dowager on behalf of Jiyao, attempted to assassinate the crown prince, burned the Kunning Palace, spread rumors of rebellion, and other old crimes—all would be revealed, and the Wei family would be finished.
If I were the leader of the Void Sect, and my carefully built empire in the capital was uprooted, wouldn’t I want to kill the chief culprit named Su Yan? The answer was obvious — I’d want him torn to pieces!
I have the Seven Killing Camp under me, with countless assassins mobilized; poisoned food; disguised as night guards, planting knives in the toilet for him to find at midnight… plenty of ways to kill.
After imagining this, Su Yan broke out in cold sweat, feeling every breath might be inhaling deadly poison from now on.
Dancing on the edge of a knife, walking a tightrope on a cliff, nothing else.
For some reason, Su Yan thought of Shen Qi. When he decided to bring down Feng Qu’e, was he feeling the same way?
Was Shen Qi nervous, afraid?
Did he regret when tortured and interrogated?
How could someone so desperate to survive and climb up overcome the instinct to live, willing to give up everything to protect another’s life and future?
Su Yan sighed deeply, his heart aching.
At midnight, alone in his chamber, he was lost in thought for a moment, then a powerful impulse surged from his heart—
He wanted to see Shen Qi. Could not delay even a moment, he must rush to the side of Qilang.
