Chapter 11

The imperial edict concluding the Jingbei military rations case was like a boulder dropped into a stagnant pond, sending ripples through Shengjing that were far from subsiding. The vermilion gate of the Xie Mansion, a symbol of three dynasties' nobility and a throng of students and former officials, was now sealed by a yamen runner from the Ministry of Justice, a cold seal that sealed the coffin. The once bustling scene of bustling traffic and bustling crowds vanished, leaving only the vast shadow cast by the high walls and deep courtyards, and the two stone lions, each holding a copper ring in its mouth, silently observing the world's fickleness in the bleak autumn wind.

In the east of Shengjing City, the Prime Minister’s Residence.

Inside the Jingguan study, the atmosphere was solemn. Outside the window, the sky was dim, with leaden clouds hanging low, barely letting in much warmth. Gu Linzhi sat behind a large rosewood desk, his dark uniform making his face look even more stern. The piles of files on his desk were no longer about the Jiangnan floods, but rather detailed confessions, confiscation lists, and the preliminary conclusions of the three-court trial concerning Xie Yong and his gang's corruption and frame-up, as well as all the overt and covert clues in the military rations case. The scent of ink remained, but mixed with a lingering, cold, rusty smell from the depths of the imperial prison.

Qing Feng stood by, his arm bandaged, his breath heavy. Like a statue blending into the shadows, Mo Ya silently reported:

"Master, the Xie, Zhang, and Li residences, as well as the residences of all officials implicated in the case, have been completely confiscated. The amount of gold, silver, jewelry, land deeds, antiques, calligraphy, and paintings... is staggering, and the account books have been sealed and stored. The three-division trial is progressing smoothly. Xie Yong... has refused to speak. Zhang Xian, Li Mao, and others, in an effort to save their lives, have made numerous accusations, and their confessions corroborate much of the case, especially the details of the military rations transportation, warehouse changes, and accounting falsifications. The evidence is overwhelming."

His voice was stiff and steady, but when he mentioned the "astonishing number", a hint of cold contempt flashed across his eyes.

Gu Linzhi's gaze fell on a transcribed confession on the desk. His fingertips gently brushed over the repeatedly mentioned names of "Transport Envoy Zhou Kang," "Cangbu Chen Ziqing," and "Minister of Revenue Zhang Xian," finally stopping on "Xie Yong." In the confession, Zhang Xian tearfully described how Xie Yong, through his students and former officials, had manipulated key points in the Ministry of Revenue and the transport of military supplies, how he had insinuated them into "increasing revenue and reducing expenditure," how he had exploited the allocated military funds at various levels, pocketing them, and ultimately replacing them with moldy, stale grain, even tainted and tainted with mud... Every word was a tearful accusation from the 30,000 loyal souls.

"Understood." Gu Linzhi's voice was calm, without any emotion. "The families of the officials involved will be dealt with according to the law. Those whose crimes do not extend to their families will be exiled to the border areas. Xie Yong..." He paused slightly, a cold light flashing in his deep eyes. "Keep him in the depths of the imperial prison and 'serve' him well. I want him to live, live with clarity, until... the day of his execution."

"Yes!" Mo Ya responded solemnly. Allowing Xie Yong to stand trial alive was far more in line with his master's will than allowing him to die a quick death. This was a final comfort to the 30,000 souls who had perished, and a profound warning to the entire court.

"General Han..." Gu Linzhi looked out the window. The dim light seemed to illuminate the old general's sorrowful face. "How will things turn out?"

Qing Feng took a step forward, his voice slightly hoarse. "My Lord, as you instructed, he will be buried with... with the honors accorded to the deputy commander of the Jingbei Army. His coffin will be temporarily interred in the Martyrs' Shrine west of the city. The old general has no relatives, so the steward of the mansion and several surviving veterans of the Jingbei Army have volunteered to keep vigil. A day will be chosen... a day will be chosen for the coffin to be brought back north and buried beside the Jingbei Army Martyrs' Cemetery."

A grand funeral. The rites of a deputy commander. The Martyrs' Shrine. Beside the Martyrs' Tomb.

Gu Linzhi nodded slightly. This was the highest posthumous honor Han Zhenshan, the veteran commander who had lived in anonymity for fourteen years and ultimately died at the hands of the emperor, could receive. With his own broken body and that blood-written letter, he sounded the death knell for the old case and ignited the final flame of Gu Linzhi's path to revenge.

The study fell into a brief silence, with only the dripping of water from the night watchman monotonously marking the time.

“Knock knock.”

There was a slight knock on the door.

Gu Zhong, the Prime Minister's Housekeeper, quietly entered and bowed, presenting a copy of a bright yellow memorial. "Prime Minister, this has just been sent from the palace. His Majesty... has summoned you to the west warm pavilion of Qianyuan Palace at 3:45 PM."

Gu Linzhi took the copy of the memorial and scanned it. It was the emperor's own handwriting, slightly sloppy, revealing a subtle hint of fatigue and... a certain urgency for confirmation. The reason for the summons was high-sounding—to discuss the follow-up of the Xie case and flood relief in Jiangnan. But Gu Linzhi knew that this first private meeting after the dust had settled was more than just a matter of discussion.

"I understand." He placed the copy of the memorial on the desk, his expression unchanged.

Qianyuan Palace, West Warm Pavilion.

The afternoon sun slanted through the high windows, casting long, warm beams of light on the polished gold-tiled floor. Fine silver charcoal burned in the animal-headed copper censer, dispelling the chill of late autumn. The air was thick with the refreshing scent of ambergris, attempting to create an atmosphere of peace and tranquility. Yet, an invisible weight of solemnity weighed down every corner of the room, like a heavy lead block.

The young emperor did not sit behind his desk. Instead, he stood uneasily by the window, his back to the door. He had changed out of his heavy court robes and into bright yellow casual clothes, his figure appearing somewhat thin in the light and shadow. Hearing footsteps, he slowly turned around.

Gu Linzhi appeared at the door, his dark uniform as solemn as water, his steps as steady as a mountain. He bowed and saluted, "Your Majesty, I, Gu Linzhi, pay my respects to you."

"Mr. Gu, please excuse me." The emperor's voice was deliberately calm, but the lingering fear and scrutiny in his eyes were as clear as a reef underwater. He raised his hand and pointed at the armchair opposite him. "Sit down."

Gu Linzhi sat down as he was told, his posture calm, his eyes calmly facing the emperor.

There was a brief silence. The only sound in the warm room was the subtle crackling of burning silver charcoal.

The emperor's gaze wandered over Gu Linzhi's face, as if searching for the shadow of the legendary, dashing Major General Gu Han from fourteen years ago. In the end, he only saw the calm, unfathomable face of the powerful minister before him. He cleared his throat, trying to break the suffocating silence:

"Mr. Gu... the Xie case involved a wide range of people, but the three courts conducted the trial in an orderly manner. I am very pleased with your contribution. You also made good arrangements for the flood relief in the south of the Yangtze River, and the victims are gradually feeling safe... The country relies on your efforts." The words were praise, but the tone was distant and polite.

"It is my responsibility, so I dare not take credit for it." Gu Linzhi's voice was steady and calm.

Another silence. The emperor picked up the jade teacup beside him, his fingertips trembling slightly. He took a sip of the already slightly cold tea, as if trying to mask his inner uneasiness. Finally, he put the teacup down, his eyes filled with inquiry and indescribable complexity, and looked at Gu Linzhi:

"Mr. Gu... I summoned you here today. Besides official business, I have one more question that's been lingering on my mind, and I can't help but speak it out." He paused, lowering his voice, with a tone that was almost blunt and tentative. "Xie Yong... and his accomplices have been brought to justice. The old Jingbei case has been vindicated, and the 30,000 loyal souls can be comforted. Now that this matter is settled, Mr. Gu... have you ever thought about... the future?"

In the future?

These two words, like a stone thrown into a calm lake, instantly broke the apparent peace.

The air in the warm room seemed to freeze instantly. The crackling of the silver charcoal became particularly harsh. Wang Defu, standing in the corner, lowered his head even lower, and even held his breath.

The emperor's gaze locked on Gu Linzhi, with undisguised scrutiny and... a hint of deep-seated dread. Xie Yong had fallen, and Gu Linzhi's true identity was now exposed. He wielded immense power, bore a blood feud, and carried the immense prestige of having avenged the deaths of thirty thousand loyal souls! What would this man, returned from hell, with an iron will and unparalleled cunning, do next? Would he retire? Or... take a step forward? Dong Zhuo, Cao Cao... these names, like ghosts, once again lingered in the emperor's mind.

Gu Linzhi slowly raised his eyes.

His gaze remained calm, like an eternally cold pond, reflecting the emperor's undisguised fear and suspicion. He did not respond immediately, but simply watched the young monarch quietly, observing his frail and uneasy figure wrapped in his dragon robe.

Time flows slowly in the silent gaze, as heavy as a lead block.

a long time.

The corners of Gu Linzhi's lips twitched upward ever so slightly. It wasn't a smile, but a cold, all-knowing, indifferent arc.

"Your Majesty," his voice was low and clear, like ice beads rolling down a jade plate, echoing in the silent warm room, "What I seek was destined fourteen years ago in the snowstorm of the northern border, when my father broke his sword."

He paused slightly, each word carrying the weight of a mountain:

"One day, the truth will be revealed and the loyal souls will be vindicated. This wish has been fulfilled thanks to Your Majesty's great blessing and the clear judgment of the government and the people."

"Secondly," he said, his gaze calmly sweeping across the emperor's momentarily tense face, "the country is stable, and the nation is at peace. Border troubles remain, the wounds south of the Yangtze River have not healed, and chronic corruption persists... This is my unfulfilled responsibility, and it is also a matter of great concern to Your Majesty."

He didn't mention "three days," but the feeling of unfinished business weighed on the emperor's heart like an invisible hammer. He, Gu Linzhi, would not leave. At least, not until those unfinished tasks were completed. He wouldn't be like Dong Zhuo or Cao Cao, but he also wouldn't easily give up the power he held, the power that could cleanse the filth!

The emperor's face paled slightly. He understood the resoluteness and... warning in Gu Linzhi's words. Those eight words, "Thanks to Your Majesty's great blessings and the clear conscience of the court and the people," carried a cold, unquestionable power. He opened his mouth, wanting to speak, but found that all his words paled in the face of the other's calm and powerful will. A profound sense of powerlessness and a deeper fear, like an icy tide, overwhelmed him once again.

"If your Majesty has nothing else to say," Gu Linzhi slowly stood up and bowed deeply to the emperor. His gesture was respectful, yet filled with a sense of distance and aloofness. "I will take my leave."

He didn't wait for the emperor's response. He turned and walked steadily towards the closed palace door. The corner of his dark robe brushed against the mirror-like golden brick floor, silently but with an invisible sense of pressure.

The emperor sat dazed in his armchair, watching Gu Linzhi disappear behind the palace gates. A chill ran down his spine. Gu Linzhi's response didn't bring him the peace of mind he desired. Instead, it felt like a heavier, sharper sword of Damocles hung over his heart. He had defeated Xie Yong, only to face a Gu Linzhi who was even more powerful, more uncontrollable, and even more... terrifying!

In the warm room, the scent of ambergris was still refreshing, but it could no longer dispel the pervasive chill that came from the abyss of power.

Prime Minister's Residence, "Quiet Observation" Study.

The candlelight reignited, dispelling the chill of the late autumn evening. Gu Linzhi stood before the enormous map of Dayong, his gaze sweeping across the settled northern border, finally settling heavily on the still-distant and scarred Jiangnan Road.

The old case is over, but the embers are still warm. But new storms often breed on the ruins.

"Master." Mo Ya slid into the study silently like a ghost, knelt on one knee, and spoke with a barely perceptible solemnity, "Jiangnan 'Shadow Scale' has reported a secret, urgent!"

Gu Linzhi didn't look back: "Talk."

"Three days ago, a Cao Gang express ship, secretly sailing from Hangzhou and disguised as a grain ship, was attacked by unidentified armed forces in the waters of 'Heishiji', on the lower reaches of the Huai River! Of the twenty-seven guards on board, all but one was seriously injured and lost overboard! The cargo on board... wasn't grain, but seven sealed camphorwood chests! The attackers were clear-eyed and ruthless, setting the ship on fire afterwards. The seven chests... are nowhere to be found!"

Huai River! Black Rock! Armed attack! Ship burning! Disappearance!

These key words were like cold steel needles, instantly piercing Gu Linzhi's mind! He slowly turned around, and a cold light suddenly appeared in his deep eyes!

Shen Ziqing may be dead, Xie Yong may have fallen, but the waters of Jiangnan are clearly deeper than imagined! What are the contents of those seven missing camphorwood chests? Is it the vast amount of stolen silver that Xie Yong and his gang have transferred? Or... some other secret that could shake Jiangnan, or even implicate a wider region? Is this sudden attack a case of gangs robbing gangs? Or... is it another, more lurking force, eager to seize the fruits of Xie Yong's fall and erase the last traces?

"Where is the seriously injured person who fell into the water?" Gu Linzhi's voice was as cold as a knife.

"He has been secretly rescued by Shadow Scale and placed in a safe place," Mo Ya replied. "He was the ship's accountant. He was seriously injured and unconscious, and hasn't regained consciousness yet. But before he fell unconscious, he tightly protected an oilcloth package in his arms. Inside the package... there seemed to be fragments of an account book."

Torn pages of account books!

Gu Linzhi's fingertips tapped lightly on the cold rosewood table.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Like the drums of war beating again in the embers.

"Do everything you can to save this man and pry his mouth open." Gu Linzhi's voice was filled with unquestionable determination. "Use all your hidden contacts in Jiangnan to investigate! Find out the attacker's whereabouts! Find out where those seven boxes went! Investigate... all Jiangnan officials, wealthy merchants, and even... underworld forces who had secret dealings with Xie Yong and Shen Ziqing but were 'protected' in Xie's case!"

"Yes!" Mo Ya accepted the order and retreated silently.

Gu Linzhi's gaze returned to the Jiangnan region on the map. Beneath the scars of that flood-ravaged land, undercurrents seemed even more turbulent than the floodwaters themselves. Xie Yong's downfall wasn't the end; rather, it was like peeling back the surface of a massive abscess, exposing the deeper corruption and strife beneath.

He walked to his desk, picked up his brush, and dipped it in thick ink. With a flick of his pen, he sketched the outlines of the Jiangnan water network on the snow-white rice paper. His strokes were powerful and sharp, piercing through the mist.

Beneath the ashes, the waves rise again.

The chess players have already set their sights on a new chessboard. The storm in Shengjing has subsided, but the whirlpool in Jiangnan is opening up a deep hole.