Chapter 15
Shengjing, the residence of Feng Zijing, the Left Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate.
The air in the study seemed frozen. The deep autumn night outside the window weighed heavily, yet it couldn't suppress the pounding in Feng Zijing's chest, a heart that threatened to burst through his ribs. His bony fingers gripped the objects before him tightly, their knuckles turning bluish-white from the excessive force, and they trembled slightly.
A palm-sized piece of fine iron fragment, cold and heavy to the touch, with a cold metallic luster.
A rubbing with clear ink marks and charred edges records the broken words "seven camphorwood boxes", "three thousand pounds of fine iron hidden in green salt bags", and "transported to Heishiji".
On a piece of white paper, there was an extremely abstract cinnabar mark that looked like clouds lingering around a lake - Yunze Club!
These things were stuffed into his sleeves by a ragged, surprisingly agile beggar who "accidentally" bumped into his sedan chair on his way back from court. The whole process was as fast as lightning, and the beggar disappeared in the crowd without a trace.
Feng Zijing recognized this technique. Cold, efficient, leaving no trace, and carrying a scent of iron and blood—Gu Linzhi's "Shadow Scale"!
"Bang!"
Feng Zijing slammed his age-freckled palm down on the desk! The wolf-hair brush on the pen holder jumped, and the ink in the inkstone splashed out, staining the snow-white rice paper, just like his furious mood at the moment!
"Rebellion! Rebellion! Ah!!"
He stood up suddenly, his gaunt body shaking violently with extreme anger. His once cloudy old eyes were now wide open, spewing out a rage that could burn everything! His pale beard trembled violently, and a hoarse roar erupted from his chest, like a wounded old lion:
"Salt permits! Fine iron! Gunpowder! Shipped to Beidi! Yunze Society! Jiangnan Road Transport Commissioner! Hangzhou Prefect! And those... those parasites who sit in office for nothing, sucking the blood and sweat of the people! Parasites of the country! Traitors! Traitors!!"
He grabbed the cold piece of iron as if he was grabbing the hearts of those traitors, wishing he could crush them!
"You are eating the emperor's salary, yet you do things worse than animals! You invite wolves into your house! You aid the enemy with weapons! This is a heinous crime that will sever the foundation of the Great Yong and destroy the bloodline of the Chinese nation! It is an unforgivable crime! Your entire clan should be exterminated! Your bones should be ground to dust and your ashes scattered--!!!"
The roar echoed in the silent study, carrying a sense of total destruction. Feng Zijing panted heavily, his old face flushed crimson, but his turbid eyes burned with an almost fanatical fire of justice. He had always considered himself a man of integrity, a man of integrity, and he would not tolerate even the slightest bit of sand in his eyes, let alone such a blatant crime that could subvert the foundation of the country!
Gu Linzhi…Gu Linzhi had precisely thrown this hot potato, this thunderbolt that could detonate the imperial court, into the hands of Feng Zijing! This powerful minister was using his old bones, his reputation as a clean official, to sound the alarm that would make it impossible for the emperor to remain deaf and dumb any longer! It was an open conspiracy, and a decisive blow!
"Come! Prepare court robes! Prepare a sedan chair!" Feng Zijing's voice was hoarse but firm, carrying a tragic and majestic air like the wind whistling and the cold water of Yi River. "I will knock on the palace gate tonight! I will see the emperor! I will impeach! I will impeach all the beasts in Jiangnan who have anything to do with the 'Yun Ze Society' and this chain of aiding the enemy! Not a single one... can be spared!"
Shengjing, the secret room of the Imperial City Sinan Pacification Office.
The flickering candlelight illuminated Cao Wushang's sinister face, as sculpted from stone. In his hand, he clutched a thin, cicada-wing-thin secret report, containing only a few words. Yet, the coldness in his eyes seemed to solidify.
"Feng Zijing, having obtained irrefutable evidence, was enraged and went to the palace to see the emperor that very night."
"The Shadow Scale Channel, the traces point to the Gu Mansion. They are not concealed."
"Good...good Gu Linzhi!" Cao Wushang's voice seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth, with a hissing sound like a venomous snake spitting out its tongue. "Driving the tiger to devour the wolf? Killing with a borrowed knife? You want to use Feng Zijing's old bones to force His Majesty to express his position and block our way? You want to burn this fire in Jiangnan to the surface and force His Majesty to stand behind you?"
He suddenly crumpled the secret report into a ball and clenched it tightly in his palm, his knuckles cracking.
"We won't let you have your way!"
He abruptly stood up and walked to a humble copper basin in the corner of the secret room. It was half-filled with a sticky, fishy, dark-red liquid. Without hesitation, Cao Wushang dipped his hand, clutching the secret report, into the basin. With a soft "hiss," accompanied by a puff of acrid white smoke, the paper crumb, along with the stain on his hand, instantly dissolved in the viscous liquid, leaving no trace.
"Want to overturn the table? Want to force the emperor to abdicate?" Cao Wushang whispered sinisterly, his eyes flashing with madness and resentment as he watched the foam swirling in the basin. "I'll let you overturn this table... even more thoroughly! Burn more vigorously! So vigorously... that even you, the one holding the fire, will be burned to ashes!"
He turned around and whispered to the shadows:
"Send the message! Use the Night Owl! Target: Jiangnan, Hangzhou Prefecture, Zhao Wenbi's residence! Set fire to ours... Burn! Burn all those dark study rooms and secret rooms in his mansion! Especially the account books and documents! Don't leave a single piece of paper!"
"Send another message to 'Mouse'! Spread the word... Lord Feng of the Censorate has irrefutable evidence accusing Hangzhou Prefect Zhao Wenbi of treason. Zhao Wenbi, desperate, has sent his assassins to the capital to assassinate Lord Feng and destroy the evidence! Get the news... fast! Make it loud! Get it to the right people!"
A low response came from the shadows, and then it fell into dead silence.
Cao Wushang walked to the window, pushed it open a crack, looked out at the dark and murderous night, and a twisted and satisfied smile appeared on his face.
"Lord Gu, you've done a great job lighting this fire. We'll give you... another barrel of oil! Let's see which of those borers gets blasted to pieces first, or which of your swords gets bent by the scalding oil first!"
Hangzhou Prefecture, the residence of prefect Zhao Wenbi.
At midnight, when everything was completely silent, a huge fire suddenly broke out in a heavily guarded study courtyard in the prefectural government's back office without any warning!
The fire started with incredible speed and strangeness! It seemed to explode from the very heart of the study! Thick smoke billowed, and the flames instantly engulfed the doors and windows, licking the beams and pillars with crackling sounds! The pungent smell of burning paper and wood filled the air!
"The fire is breaking out! Put it out!"
"Master! Master is still in there!"
"Protect the master!"
Shrill cries and chaotic footsteps instantly shattered the stillness of the night. Guards and servants from the palace were in a panic, carrying buckets and basins as they rushed toward the fire. However, the fire was too fierce, the heat too overwhelming, and they could not get close at all! Faint cries of fear and despair could be heard from the study, but they were quickly drowned out by the crackling sound of the flames.
Amidst the chaotic crowd, several nimble figures in servants' attire moved like ghosts, silently avoiding the firefighters and rushing towards a corner behind the study that looked like a rockery bonsai. One of them quickly groped for an inconspicuous protrusion at the base of the rockery and pressed hard!
With a soft click, the base of the rockery slid open, revealing a dark hole barely wide enough for one person to pass through! A cold, damp air, mixed with the thick, lingering smell of tung oil and saltpeter, assaulted the air! Without hesitation, the men quickly slipped inside, and the heavy base of the rockery silently closed behind them, as if it had never been opened.
Underground chamber.
The space was small, its walls clad in cold, hard bluestone. It was a mess. Several large iron boxes had been violently pried open, leaving nothing inside, save for ashes and the scorched smell of burnt paper. Torn pages of account books lay scattered on the ground, and in the corners that hadn't been completely burned, one could still see faint handwriting and... the mark of the cloud-shrouded water!
"Damn it! We're a step too late!" The sturdy man leading the group spat fiercely, his eyes filled with frustration and anger. "The stuff has been moved! The bastard who set the fire was so quick!"
Another man squatted down, picked up some black powder scattered on the ground, put it to his nose and sniffed it, his face changed. "It's a mixture of kerosene and saltpeter! This fire was set on purpose! Just to burn this place down!"
"Search! Search carefully!" the leading man growled. "See if anything's slipped through the net! Especially anything with numbers! Seven boxes... We've found box number three, but where's box number seven? Are there any other clues?"
Like the most meticulous hunting dogs, several men swiftly searched the cramped, messy chamber. Suddenly, one man felt something hard beneath a pile of shredded paper and ashes in the corner. He scraped aside the ashes and discovered a palm-sized iron plate, its edges charred and curled. The plate felt heavy, with intricate cloud and water patterns carved on one side and a clear number on the other—"Seven"!
"Number seven! Found it!" the man exclaimed in a low voice, suppressing his excitement.
The leading man snatched the iron plate. It felt cold and heavy in his hand, and the clear word "七" was particularly dazzling in the dim light.
"Just the tag? Where's the box?!" His eyes flashed with a fierce light. "The box must still be there! Take this tag, follow the scent, and chase him! I'll find the box alive or dead! Inside... there are treasures that can be exchanged for unlimited wealth!"
At this moment, an extremely subtle, almost imperceptible sound of a mechanism turning was heard from the only entrance to the secret room - the hidden door in the rockery!
“Click…”
The sound was slight, but it was like thunder exploding in the ears of several desperadoes in the secret room!
"Oh no! Someone's coming! Retreat!" The leader reacted quickly, growling as he stuffed the number seven iron plate into his arms. At the same time, he drew the poisoned short blade from his waist! The others also instantly entered combat mode, weapons drawn, and fierce eyes stared at the entrance!
The secret door slowly slid open a crack, letting in dim light. However, the expected enemies did not pour in. Only a stronger, sickening smell of blood, accompanied by a few faint, dying groans, came in from the crack!
The leading man motioned for someone to come forward and carefully push open the secret door.
The scene before them made these desperate criminals, who were always on the edge of a knife, gasp in shock!
Lying sprawled on the ground outside the rockery were seven or eight corpses dressed in the uniforms of the prefect's personal guards! Each one's throat had been precisely slit, blood gushing out, staining the ground red. The fatal wounds were clean and sharp, the technique chillingly skilled! Only one old man, dressed in the uniform of a butler, had a dagger lodged in his chest. He was still breathing, vainly clutching his wound, his eyes staring in horror at the entrance to the secret chamber, a gurgling sound emanating from his throat.
"Who... who did it..." The old man who looked like a butler saw the door of the secret room open, and a trace of resentment and fear burst out in his eyes. He uttered a few words with difficulty, "... the box... 'Qi'... was... was..."
Before he could finish his words, his head tilted and he died completely.
The leading man's face was ashen as he glanced at the bodies scattered across the ground and the direction the butler had pointed before his death—the dark path leading to the mansion's back garden. He crouched down and, beside the butler's still-cold body, spotted a handful of shoe prints that didn't belong there, stained with fresh soil and a strange floral scent (probably wisteria), as well as... a few extremely thin, almost transparent silk threads that had been torn apart by force.
"Experts! There's more than one!" The leading man felt a chill in his heart. "While the mantis stalks the cicada, the oriole is unaware of the situation behind! Someone got ahead of us, killed someone, and... took box number 7?!"
He stood up suddenly, his eyes flashing with greed and cruelty.
"Chase! Follow these footprints and the silk thread! Whoever took the box and dared to touch my wealth... must die!"
Like hyenas scenting blood, several dark figures quickly vanished into the darkness of the prefect's back garden, following the imperceptible footprints and the occasional trace of fine threads clinging to the bushes along the path. Unbeknownst to them, they were tracking not only a priceless "treasure chest," but also a bloody road to hell.
The Jiangnan night was completely ignited by this sudden blaze. The flames from Zhao Wenbi's residence illuminated half of Hangzhou, illuminating countless greedy figures surging, chasing, and fighting in the darkness. And the true "Case 7," like an ominous curse, swathed in deadly secrets and lies, was being pushed by an invisible hand into the center of an even more chaotic and bloody vortex.
The boiling cauldron simmers the oil, the raging fire simmers the heart. This feast, ignited by a lone sharp edge, fueled by sinister intent, and completely out of control due to greed, has just begun its most tragic prelude.
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