“…Here is the imperial edict. Does the Marquis wish to see it with his own eyes?”
Wei Yan’s face darkened. He yanked the edict over and glared at it, as if unable to believe the emperor would issue such an order, trampling the face of his own father-in-law into the dirt.
But alas, he had neither misheard nor misread. The multicolored dragon-patterned silk bore vigorous brushstrokes in imperial hand, and the square imprint of the jade seal clearly read “Treasure of the Emperor.”
Wei Yan gnashed his teeth, his features twisting into a grotesque expression: “Since Censor Su insists that I harbor imperial criminals, then by all means—search! If you find nothing, I’ll kneel at Fengtian Gate to remonstrate. Unless this slanderous, deceitful wretch is rooted out, I, Wei Yan, swear I am no man!”
Su Yan snatched the edict back into his sleeve, replying serenely: “Marquis Xianan’s words sound dangerously like slander against the emperor.”
Wei Yan bellowed: “I was cursing you! Don’t you dare spout nonsense and fabricate crimes!”
“You called me a deceiver who misleads the emperor. Are you not implying His Majesty is a muddle-headed monarch easily swayed by lies? If that isn’t slander against the throne, what is it?”
Wei Yan choked, unable to respond. Madam Qin, however, remained composed. Her voice sharp and cutting, she said: “Su Twelve’s glib tongue is well known—no need to show it off here. Since you have an imperial edict to shield you, feel free to dig up my entire residence three feet deep, and see whether you can find this so-called imperial criminal. Please, go ahead!” She pointed toward the wide courtyards behind.
A thousand Tengxiang Guards scoured every inch of the Marquis Xianan’s residence, yet they found no trace of Mr. He or the Seven Kill Camp leader.
Even the side chamber two Embroidered Uniform Guard agents swore Mr. He had once occupied was now nothing but fire-blackened rubble—explained away by the Wei family steward as “a servant accidentally knocking over a lantern.”
Wei Yan sat in the main hall sipping tea, flashing Su Yan a malicious grin: Tomorrow morning in court, you’ll be the one to suffer.
Su Yan ignored him and walked straight out the gates.
Just then, Shen Qi finished his round of inspection and shook his head at Su Yan, indicating that no one had left during the encirclement.
Su Yan believed him. With Shen Qi’s skill, even if he could not capture the camp leader alone, he would never have let him escape so easily. And with so many Embroidered Uniform Guard watching, no matter how high the other’s qinggong, it would have been impossible to slip past every eye.
Thus, Mr. He and the commander were most likely still inside.
“There’s still the Marquis Fengan’s residence. I’ll take men to search there. This side, I’ll trouble Qilang to continue holding the line.”
“—Do you like eating pinpo fruit?”
Su Yan had just been about to mount his horse when Shen Qi suddenly asked. Startled, he answered honestly: “Not particularly.”
In this era, grafting techniques were still undeveloped, so apples, whether in appearance or sweetness, were far inferior to those of modern times. It was natural that Su Yan would find them bland.
Yet at the time, people liked to place apples by their pillows, falling asleep to the faint fragrance. Thus they borrowed the Buddhist term pinpo for them—meaning “longing” or “yearning.” Hence they were also called “longing fruit.”
Shen Qi gave a soft “mm,” his expression unchanged. But Su Yan caught a trace of regret in his eyes, so he made an excuse: “It’s mainly that I’m too lazy to peel the skin. If someone were to do it for me—”
Shen Qi’s gaze softened. “When we get back, I’ll peel it for you.”
Warmth spread through Su Yan from body to heart. He cast him a smiling glance, mounted his horse, and rode off.
The Fengan Marquis’s residence was but an arrow’s flight from Xianan Marquis’s, reached in the blink of an eye. By the time Su Yan led his men to the gates, Yu Wang’s card game had already dispersed. The three young scholars who had been there to keep him company were nowhere to be seen, the canopied couch removed. Only he remained, long spear in hand, standing tall and commanding on the steps.
“My thanks to Your Highness for your assistance,” Su Yan dismounted and cupped his hands in genuine gratitude.
“What’s with the politeness between us?” Yu Wang draped a hand over his shoulder, adopting a brotherly air.
Though the gesture was a bit intimate, it carried no impropriety. It allowed Su Yan to gradually set aside his former aversion and hostility, no longer meeting him with a scowl. He brushed aside the hand resting on his shoulder and said with a smile: “I must go in and search. Outside, I’ll trouble Your Highness to keep watch, lest they try to escape in the confusion.”
Yu Wang inclined his head. “Leave it to me—not even a fly will get out.”
Fengan Marquis was sick and frail, and his Madam soft in temperament. To deal with them was even easier for Su Yan than with Wei Yan. He ordered a pack of the emperor’s guards, fierce as wolves and tigers, to turn the Fengan Marquis’s residence upside down.
But still, there was no trace of Mr. He or the commander.
“They haven’t gone out, yet we can’t find them—what, can they burrow into the ground? Impossible…” Su Yan frowned, then suddenly a thought struck him: perhaps there was a secret chamber or hidden passage in the residence, where they were lying low, waiting for the storm to pass before moving again.
He ordered the Tengxiang Guards to scour every corner, to dig three feet deep if necessary. As they searched, it was Su Yan himself who noticed something odd—
Fengan Marquis Wei Jun’s study, when viewed from outside, seemed slightly larger than it appeared from within. The difference was minuscule, nearly impossible for the average person to detect. But Su Yan, who in his past life had moved three times and handled most of the renovations himself, had developed a keen sense—born of pinching pennies—about discrepancies between gross floor area and usable space. Thus he spotted it.
He summoned several Tengxiang Guards to pace out the measurements along the exterior wall, then again inside the room. Before long they confirmed the problem lay with the wall where the bookshelves stood.
Behind it should be a small space.
Small, yes—but seven or eight square meters at least, enough to hide two people with ease.
Su Yan ordered steward Xu Yong to open the mechanism. Xu Yong pretended ignorance, until the Tengxiang Guards brought out gunpowder to blast the wall. Only then did his face change color, and under duress, he activated the mechanism.
The hidden door slowly opened. The Tengxiang Guards stepped up warily, shielding Su Yan behind them.
Inside, a wavering candle cast dim light. Su Yan’s gaze passed over the crowd and landed on a figure seated cross-legged. The flames outlined the side of his face and the chessboard before him. He held a piece between his fingers, deep in thought, as though oblivious to the encirclement.
The Tengxiang Guards had never seen such a calm “criminal” and were momentarily stunned. In that hushed, breathless silence, the man finally set down the piece, a faint click breaking the stillness.
That sound seemed to shatter an illusion. The man lifted his face, half-veiled by long hair, and smiled faintly at Su Yan: “An honor at last, Lord Su.”
They had never met, but Su Yan knew at once—this was Mr. He.
Just as Mr. He had recognized him from the crowd.
So Su Yan returned the courtesy: “An honor at last, Mr. He.”
“To play a round, how about it?” Mr. He invited gently.
Su Yan stood in the doorway of the secret chamber, neither stepping in nor back: “You already have no pieces left to play. Why not concede and resign?”
Mr. He rose, straightening his robe, and walked toward him. The Tengxiang Guards raised their weapons as if facing a great enemy, shielding Su Yan.
“One who seizes victory in a single game,” Mr. He said, “does not mean he will win in the end.”
Su Yan smiled. “Those words—you can save for the imperial prison.”
—
From a hidden spot, the Seven Kill Camp Leader watched as the Tengxiang Guards led Mr. He out of the study. He gave a silent, cold laugh: Where is this contact now? Captured—let’s see how you keep up your charade. A pity our great undertaking remains unfinished; looks like I’ll need another partner.
He knew he himself might not be safe. As long as he hadn’t been caught, the searches in the marquisate would not end.
The Camp Leader thought of the passage linking the two marquisates.
He decided to use it to return once more to Xianan Marquis’s residence. After all, it had already been scoured once; the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s vigilance there should have slackened, giving him a better chance to slip away.
The internal injuries from fighting Yu Wang flared up faintly. The Camp Leader swallowed a pill, but there was no time to sit and circulate the medicine. Gritting against the pain in his meridians, he pushed his body technique to the limit, slipping past the ever-present Tengxiang Guards and into the hidden passage.
The passage was short, little more than a hundred paces. Soon he emerged at the far end. Pausing to listen and ensure no one was near, he darted out.
But as the secret door closed behind him, an iron net dropped from above, casting wide to ensnare him!
The Camp Leader reacted swiftly, his twin hooks flashing. One, thrown with force, caught the net aloft, spinning it like a giant umbrella. The other, released with his leaping figure, lunged straight for his opponent’s throat.
The man blocked with a Xiuchun saber, retreating several steps before steadying himself.
…It was Embroidered Uniform Guard Shen Qi! Murderous intent surged across the Camp Leader’s face. Without a word, he flipped his soul-reaping hooks, his body weaving as the blades lashed out like dragons in the waves, slashing once more toward Shen Qi’s waist and belly.
The move was viciously fast and unpredictable. Shen Qi knew—if he had not been injured… no, if he were still at his prime, before even suffering the tortures of the “Combing and Washing” punishment, perhaps he could have blocked and countered. But with his current strength, he feared he could not match him.
Before the hook even struck, the force of the inner energy already stung his skin. As battle instinct screamed warning, Shen Qi suddenly bent backward, spine parallel with the ground, in a desperate “iron bridge” maneuver that just barely let the hook skim past.
Seeing their commander in peril, the Embroidered Uniform Guard formed a saber array and rushed the Camp Leader all at once.
Shen Qi tensed his abdominal muscles, his upper body springing back lithely. Lowering his head, he saw a long tear running down his yesa robe, within which a faint dark-golden sheen flickered.
—If not for having worn the soft golden-threaded armor beforehand, that strike might very well have gutted him on the spot.
A fighter with such profound martial skill and venomous techniques—no wonder even Jinghong Zhui wasn’t his match.
Shen Qi recalled that day when Jinghong Zhui was simultaneously suppressed by the Camp Leader’s Soul-Breaking Hook and the flute player’s Bewitching Sound, until he fell into qi deviation. Shen Qi had to admit, if it had been him, he might not have lasted any longer.
That rough, unruly jianghu wanderer… was not without his merits.
Shen Qi cast aside the fleeting thought. From his breast, he drew out a signal firework with a whistle, lit it, and shot it up into the night sky.
—
Outside the gates of Marquis Fengan’s residence, Yu Wang turned his head at the sound, catching sight of a mass of crimson fire soaring skyward.
He recognized it at once—it was the special signal firework used by the Embroidered Uniform Guard. Back when they had prepared to deal with Fuyin at Linhua Pavilion, Shen Qi had also given him one, which he still carried unused.
He vaulted onto his horse, spear in one hand, reins in the other, and wheeled around.
The newly appointed commander of the princely guards, Hua Ling, hurriedly asked: “Your Highness, where are you going? Should we accompany you?”
Yu Wang replied: “You must hold your posts. Do not allow the suspect to escape. For all matters, heed Lord Su’s command. I go to support the Embroidered Uniform Guard—there must be some thorny matter over there.”
With a flick of the reins, the black steed beneath him leapt forth like a swimming dragon.
In the blink of an eye he reached Marquis Xianan’s residence. Man and horse surged up the steps, crashing through the gates, as the clash of weapons rang from the rear courtyard.
Kicking off the saddle, he vaulted, spear in hand, across roof-ridges and inner walls, and there he saw—the Seven Kills Camp Leader locked in battle with the Embroidered Uniform Guard.
Shen Qi lifted his eyes to him: “This man’s martial prowess is formidable. Even if we wear him down with wheel tactics, the losses will be dire. I must ask for Your Highness’s aid.”
Yu Wang curled his lips in a mocking smile: “You’re begging me?”
Shen Qi’s face was dark. “Let’s be clear, Your Highness. You volunteered yourself into this. Whether you now shrink from battle or just want to hog the credit, it all comes down to this—fight, or leave. Spare me the wasted words.”
Yu Wang’s smile carried a hidden anger. His palm slammed into Shen Qi’s still-unhealed sword wound at the waist, blasting him two, three zhang backward. “Insolent cur daring to flout your superior! Once this Seven Kills scum is captured, I’ll deal with you myself!”
Staggering, Shen Qi regained his footing, wiping the threads of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He didn’t raise his face, only his eyes rolled upward, wolfishly cold, locking on the back of Yu Wang as he fought fiercely with the Camp Leader. His pupils were so black they reflected no light at all.
After staring a few breaths, he lowered his bloodstained hand, gripped his Xiuchun saber tightly, and turned away.
—
Mister He was shackled hand and foot with wrought-iron chains, stuffed into the prison cart. A large squad of Embroidered Uniform Guard escorted it toward the Northern Surveillance Bureau’s imperial prison.
Unable to find Shen Qi, Su Yan asked his trusted qianhu, Shi Yanshuang: “Where is Lord Shen?”
Shi Yanshuang replied: “Lord Tongzhi led a squad of imperial riders to clear the way ahead. The road to the Northern Surveillance Bureau is long—he didn’t want any complications.”
Su Yan nodded. “True, Qilang always thinks ahead.”
Shi Yanshuang silently corrected: that’s called scheming.
With Mister He captured, Su Yan’s heart was half at ease. His mind turned instead to Yu Wang, who was locked in fierce combat with the defiant Seven Kills Camp leader.
Roofs toppled, beams snapped—the noise like an earthquake. Luckily it was Marquis Xianan’s mansion being ruined, so Su Yan felt no distress for the buildings.
He ordered the Tengxiang Guard: “Crossbowmen and gunners to their positions. The moment that red-robed man gains the upper hand or attempts escape, shoot him down hard!” After a thought, he added, “Be careful not to hit Yu Wang.”
—
In a shadowed alley, the riders’ torches barely lit the way ahead, and the dense canopy spilling over the walls on either side. Beyond was only thick darkness.
The prison cart, hemmed in by two squads of riders, rolled onward. Its wheels ground over stone, mud, and fallen blossoms, clattering along.
A faint, subtle fragrance lingered in the air. A night breeze carried rain-soaked petals down the back of Shi Yanshuang’s collar. He hunched his neck, suddenly shivering. “Why do I have such a bad feeling…” he muttered.
The words had scarcely left his lips when a rider beside him swayed twice and abruptly toppled from the saddle with a muffled thud.
Thud.
Thud… thud… thud, thud, thud…
The sounds fell like dumplings dropped into boiling water, faster and faster. Horrified, Shi Yanshuang looked back—only to see row upon row of empty saddles, and the Embroidered Uniform Guard sprawled motionless across the ground.
An ambush!
But where were the attackers? And what method did they use?
An ambush in the alley?
Impossible—Lord Tongzhi himself had scouted this route. There shouldn’t be an ambush… Thoughts swarmed like mosquitoes, his head grew heavier and heavier, until at last he too slumped unconscious from his horse—
Thud.
Dozens of masked figures in nightclothes emerged from the darkness, encircling the prison cart. Blades and sabers hacked at the heavy chains securing the doors, sparks flying, steel clanging, leaving only shallow marks.
Inside the iron-bound cart, Mister He sat cross-legged in meditation, eyes closed. The black shackles on his wrists made them look all the thinner and more elegant. His fingers moved ceaselessly—on his left, pinching a white stone; on his right, a black stone. The two tapped against each other, the sound crisp as a spring.
“…Utterly loathsome. This cramped, stifling, pitch-black, lifeless box.” His voice was so faint even he could barely hear it. “Not fear—disgust. Yes, not fear, but disgust…”
As he tapped the stones, he repeated that last phrase over and over. Beads of sweat welled on his brow, and his usually unruffled expression was shadowed by something unspeakably grim.
Suddenly, through the narrow vent of the cart window, two strangely-shaped keys were tossed inside. One large, one small, bound together on a bronze ring.
Mister He tried to catch the ring of keys, but his fingers trembled uncontrollably. The keys slipped, landing on the folds of his robe between his legs. He drew in a deep breath, pressed the two stones into his left palm, gripped the small key with his right, and fumbled to unlock the shackles.
He shifted over to the carriage door and pushed the larger key out through the crack.
The iron lock finally came undone, the door swung open, and the leader of the black-clad masked men bowed with fists clasped: “Is the Sect Master unharmed?”
Reappearing before the others, Mister He once again seemed ethereal and composed, as though the cold sweat and murmurs inside the carriage had been nothing but illusion.
Smiling faintly, he nodded and swept his gaze across the gathered followers. These were all elites who had survived the court’s purge of the Void Sect, yet Mister He did not linger on them. His eyes passed over the crowd, landing instead on the darkness at the corner of the street ahead.
Step by step, he walked closer, until he could make out the figure concealed in the shadows.
“Shen Tongzhi truly keeps his word, living up to the high hopes I placed in you.” Mister He spoke as he handed over the two keys. “Returning them to their rightful owner.”
Shen Qi stood with arms folded around his Xiuchun blade, his voice cold: “Didn’t you already calculate that I would show up? Why put on an act?”
Mister He said, “From those two offerings of loyalty, I received your sincerity. Yet I could not be certain how deep that sincerity ran—whether it was deep enough to cut yourself entirely away from your identity as the Emperor’s Blade. Fortunately, you are a man of brilliance.”
A man who recognizes the times is a true man of brilliance. Shen Qi’s mouth curved in a mocking smile. “I want to ask you a few questions.”
“Please, ask.”
“Feng Qu’e was originally one of Xin Wang’s men, wasn’t he?”
“He was.”
“After Xin Wang died, was it Ning Wang who contacted Feng Qu’e to keep serving?”
“It was not.”
“Then who was it?”
Mister He smiled. “Why do you want to know who he is?”
Shen Qi said, “Such a vast game of chess, with so much painstaking planning and stratagems—I want to know who the player behind it is. Whether he is worth my allegiance. Whether he can give me what I desire.”
Mister He asked in return: “And what is it you desire?”
Shen Qi was silent for a moment, then said: “Power and status. Power and status enough to shield the blood and flesh I hold dear from coveting, humiliation, or plunder.”
Mister He smiled knowingly. “Lord Shen, you are truly fascinating—a ruthless ambitious man, yet also the most devoted lover under heaven. I dare to predict that in the future, you will be heavily relied upon by him.”
“And who—exactly—is he?” Shen Qi pressed. “I will not serve a shadow I cannot see.”
Mister He said, “When the time is ripe, you will naturally meet him. For now, you must return to Emperor Jinglong’s court, continue your post as Embroidered Uniform Guard Lord Tongzhi, and wait for the next ‘gatekeeper’ to reach out.”
Shen Qi sneered. “Empty words. What token of trust do you offer?”
Mister He thought for a moment, then replied: “Go back later and have yourself a bowl of wontons at the stall.”
