Chapter 17
Shengjing, Imperial City, Golden Palace.
The court, which should have been solemn and dignified, was now like a boiling frying pan, a humming of whispers clashing and echoing throughout the vast halls. The air was stagnant and suffocating, and every breath carried an invisible weight. Emperor Zhao Heng sat upright on the dragon throne, his bright yellow robe gleaming glaringly under the hundreds of candlelight within the hall, yet the deep gloom on his face could not be dispelled. His gaze fell on the palpitating crimson beneath the imperial steps.
Feng Zijing.
This old censor, with his white hair and beard, was emaciated and emaciated. He was clad in a loose imperial robe, the thick white cloth on his shoulders stained with glaring dark red bloodstains, like a poisonous flower blooming in the snow. Instead of standing in awe as usual, he was carried to the hall on a specially made wooden chair by two stern-looking, powerful servants. There, he sat upright, front and center among the officials! His sallow face was devoid of any color, his lips were chapped and peeling, and within his sunken eye sockets, only a pair of eyes burned with a nearly insane fire, firmly fixed on the throne like nails!
This scene itself was a silent, bloody manifesto! It was the loudest slap in the face of all the officials in the court!
Zhao Heng's fingernails dug deep into his palm, hidden beneath the sleeves of his wide robe. Last night's secret report from the Southern Pacification Office, Cao Wushang's incoherent panic, now transformed into a living accusation against the corpse before him! Gu Linzhi... so cruel! He'd let this old man drag himself to death, and with such brutal and resolute gesture, he'd brought the boiling bloodbath of Jiangnan directly to Zhao Heng's case! He'd completely crushed any remaining room for maneuver, waiting, or even secretly sabotaging him!
"Your Highness... Feng Zijing, the Left Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate..." Feng Zijing's hoarse, cracked voice suddenly rang out in the deadly silence of the hall. Like a blunt knife scraping across rotten wood, each word was tinged with blood, piercing everyone's eardrums with difficulty yet with unparalleled clarity. "Last night... a thief... broke into my residence... and attempted to assassinate me!"
boom--!
The whispers instantly turned into suppressed cries of surprise! Despite rumors, when the bloody truth was roared out by the person involved in the court, it still sounded like thunder! Countless eyes shot towards the throne in fear, then quickly swept across the glaring blood on the shoulder, finally landing on the pale-faced captains of the Southern Pacification Division wearing flying fish uniforms in the shadows of the corner of the hall. Maintaining the safety of the imperial city was their responsibility!
Feng Zijing ignored the horror in the hall, and pointed with trembling skinny fingers at a tray covered with black cloth held in front of him by a servant.
"The thief... intended to... silence me! He intended to... destroy this thing!" He took a sharp breath, his chest heaving violently like a dying fish, and his hoarse voice suddenly rose, carrying a shrill and resolute tone like piercing clouds and tearing silk. "But! God bless Dayong! The thief failed! This thing... this thing is here-!!!"
The servant suddenly lifted the black cloth!
On the tray, three things reflected a cold, heavy light under the candlelight in the hall, which was enough to freeze the entire court!
A palm-sized piece of fine iron fragment with a cold metallic luster and a dense texture!
A rubbing with clear ink and blackened edges, with the words "seven camphorwood boxes", "three thousand pounds of fine iron hidden in green salt bags", and "transported to Heishiji" written on it, is like a poisoned needle!
A piece of white paper clearly depicts the cinnabar mark of clouds surrounding the water - Yunze Club!
"Bang!" An old Hanlin with white hair and beard swayed and fainted, and was hurriedly supported by the people next to him.
"Hiss..." Countless gasps merged into a cold current, sweeping across the hall.
"This item... was delivered to me last night by a loyal and righteous man... at the risk of his life!" Feng Zijing's voice was like tears streaming down his face. "Zhou Kang, the Jiangnan Transport Commissioner! Zhao Wenbi, the Hangzhou Prefect! They colluded with Zhou Shihong, the chief salt merchant! They formed the secret society 'Yun Ze Hui'! They used salt permits as a cover to aid the enemy! They smuggled refined iron and gunpowder, which are strictly controlled by the imperial court... to... to the Northern Di royal court—!!!"
"Collaborating with the enemy! Selling out the country! Totally devoid of conscience! Unforgivable crimes—!!!"
That final roar, like the roar of a dying lion, exhausted his remaining strength. Feng Zijing's body suddenly leaned back, slumping into the wooden chair. Only the violent rise and fall of his chest and the bellows-like hoarseness in his throat remained. His blazing eyes, however, remained fixed fixedly on the throne, like two immortal soul lamps!
Dead silence.
Absolute silence.
On the dragon throne, Zhao Heng's face had turned from blue to white, and then from white to a terrifying gray. He felt the lining of his dragon robe was completely soaked with cold sweat. Every word of Feng Zijing's words burned his face like a red-hot iron! His dark calculations from last night, his fear of Gu Linzhi, and even his intention to use the "Yun Ze Club" to muddy the waters, were all exposed in broad daylight, exposed to the horrified, scrutinizing, and even... implicitly questioning gazes of the entire court!
He has no way to avoid it!
The emperor's eyes, with the ferocity of a trapped beast forced into a desperate situation and a trace of panic that was difficult to conceal, suddenly shot towards the gloomy dark figure on the left side of the imperial steps!
Gu Linzhi.
He remained standing, his figure as tall and straight as a solitary peak, his dark-colored uniform as still as a deep pool amidst the riot of color in the hall. From beginning to end, he never uttered a single word, never even glancing at the ironclad evidence on the tray. He simply stood there calmly, his gaze fixed on the cold golden bricks before the imperial steps, as if all the turbulent waves and bloody accusations surrounding him had nothing to do with him. Yet, it was precisely this absolute, suffocating calm that was even more oppressive than Feng Zijing's roar! Like a peerless, murderous blade hanging over everyone's head, ready to strike!
Zhao Heng's heart felt like it was being gripped by an invisible hand! He knew Gu Linzhi was waiting. Waiting for his attitude, waiting for his decision. Waiting for him to lead this raging fire, ignited by Gu Linzhi and held high by Feng Zijing, with irrefutable evidence, in a direction that Zhao Heng would have to personally point out!
A huge feeling of humiliation mixed with icy fear nearly swallowed Zhao Heng. He opened his mouth, his throat rolling, but his voice felt dry and rough like sandpaper.
"This...this matter..." The emperor's voice sounded with difficulty, with a slight tremor that he could not suppress, breaking the suffocating silence, "...horrifying! Horrifying! My dear Lord Feng..." He looked at the old minister who was slumped in the chair, with only one breath left but still accusing him with his eyes, and suppressed the disgust and fear in his heart, "...loyalty...loyalty and bravery are commendable! You came to see me injured, my...my heart aches!"
He took a sharp breath, his chest heaving violently as if trying to draw strength. His gaze swept over the pale, evasive officials of His Highness, especially those with even the slightest connection to Jiangnan. A fierceness that felt like being pushed to the brink finally overwhelmed his fear!
"You are so arrogant! How dare you assassinate an important official of the imperial court! And you did this... This is a heinous crime that will sever the foundation of the Great Yong and destroy the bloodline of the Chinese nation! This is intolerable, what is unbearable!" He slammed the armrest of the dragon throne, his voice suddenly rising, with a resolute roar that was fierce on the outside but weak on the inside:
"Convey my will!"
"First! The Imperial City Administration, the Ministry of Justice, and the Supreme Court will jointly investigate the case! A thorough investigation will be conducted into the assassination of Mr. Feng last night! Anyone involved, no matter who they are, will be killed without mercy!"
"Second!" His gaze was like a poisoned knife, sweeping across His Highness fiercely. "Order the Left Censor-in-Chief Feng Zijing of the Metropolitan Censorate, together with the Ministry of Personnel and the Ministry of Justice, to march south immediately with this irrefutable evidence! Thoroughly investigate the case of Jiangnan Dao Transport Commissioner Zhou Kang, Hangzhou Prefect Zhao Wenbi, salt merchant Zhou Shihong, and the Yunze Society for treason and smuggling contraband! All officials, merchants, and gangs involved in the case, regardless of rank or background, will be investigated—"
He practically roared out his final verdict, each word carrying the scent of blood:
"Immediate execution without mercy! Confiscate all property and exterminate the entire clan! As a warning to others—!!!"
"Third! All the troops stationed in the Jiangnan region are to obey Lord Feng's orders! Anyone who disobeys, obstructs, or leaks information will be considered treasonous and will be killed on the spot!"
"Fourth! Instruct the Cabinet's Chief Minister, Gu Linzhi, to oversee this case in the capital, supervise the three departments, and coordinate with all parties. This case must be thoroughly investigated! Restoring order to Jiangnan... a peaceful and peaceful society!"
Four consecutive decrees, like four thunderclaps, thundered down upon the silent court! The last one, in particular, elevated Gu Linzhi to the position of "Assistant Manager," seemingly granting him immense power, but in reality, it was a most unwilling compromise and constraint forced upon him by immense pressure! He needed Gu Linzhi's blade to strike, yet he also wanted to confine the blade's edge to the "Assistant Manager" role, which Zhao Heng had personally defined!
The entire court, civil and military officials, was hushed in fear. No one dared to look the emperor in the eye, much less utter a single sound. The landscape of Jiangnan had completely changed. A purge destined for mountains of blood and thousands of lives implicated had been personally initiated by the emperor, driven to despair, who sat atop the throne!
After the decree was announced, Zhao Heng, as if drained of all his strength, slumped back onto the throne, his face drooping, his chest heaving violently. He waved his hand wearily, his voice tinged with exhaustion, "Mr. Feng... is seriously injured. Send him back to the palace immediately... and have the Imperial Hospital... treat him thoroughly. Withdraw... and withdraw..."
"Retreat—to the court—!" Wang Defu's shrill and trembling voice rang out.
All the officials bowed and saluted as if they had been granted amnesty, then filed out of the suffocating Golden Palace in a stiff line. Only Feng Zijing, slumped in a wooden chair, remained. When he was lifted up by the servants, his burning eyes still fixed with a hint of triumphant determination in the direction of the lofty Dragon Throne.
Gu Linzhi was the last to turn around. He raised his eyes slightly, his calm gaze finally resting for the first time on the exhausted, terrified face of the emperor atop the throne. His gaze was unfathomable, without smugness or mockery, only an unchanging, cold composure, as if he had already seen through all the weakness, calculation, and vulnerability beneath the magnificent throne.
Zhao Heng's heart suddenly skipped a beat when he saw this gaze, as if he was stung by a poisonous bee, and he subconsciously avoided the sight.
Gu Linzhi withdrew his gaze, his dark robe sleeves brushing against the cold golden bricks. He turned, his steps steady, and silently joined the retreating stream of officials. His tall figure, silhouetted against the vast, empty palace, resembled a lone sword slowly returning to its sheath, already saturated with blood and dragon might...
Prime Minister's Residence, "Quiet Observation" Study.
Outside the window, the sky was gloomy, leaden clouds pressing low over the rooftops of Shengjing, brewing a cold, late autumn rain. Inside the study, candlelight blazed brightly, yet it couldn't dispel the heavy, solemn atmosphere.
Gu Linzhi sat upright behind his desk, the black iron talisman lying quietly beside him, its cold sheen illuminating his brooding profile. Mo Ya's rigid voice echoed from below, reporting on the aftermath of the incident behind the Golden Throne Hall and the movements of all parties involved.
"...Your Majesty's decree has been issued throughout the country. Feng Zijing has been carried back to the palace, and the director of the Imperial Hospital has personally gone there. The tiger seals for the garrisons in the Jiangnan region to mobilize troops have been urgently dispatched by the Ministry of War."
"Imperial City Secretary Cao Wushang was summoned to Qianyuan Palace immediately after the court was dismissed. He faced the emperor for nearly an hour. When he left the palace, his face looked extremely grim."
"Officials from the Ministry of Personnel and the Ministry of Justice have arrived at Feng's residence 'awaiting' orders, but in reality they are watching with fear and trepidation."
"The residences of Zhou Kang and Zhao Wenbi in Jiangnan have been besieged by local garrison troops, awaiting Feng Zijing's arrival."
"The whereabouts of Zhou Shihong, the leader of the Yunze Society, remain unknown."
Gu Linzhi's fingertips gently tapped the cold black iron talisman, making a very rhythmic sound, like the lingering sound of a war drum.
"Cao Wushang... Your Majesty didn't offer him comfort, but a tightening of chains." His voice was low and emotionless. "In this chess game of Jiangnan, Your Majesty has been forced to make a move. Cao Wushang, the hyena that sniffed out blood and pounced on its prey, is now collared. He can only bark at the carrion so close, unable to bite. He... will go mad."
Mo Ya's stern face remained unchanged. "A mad dog is more likely to reveal its flaws, and also... more likely to turn against its master."
"Hmm," Gu Linzhi replied calmly, his gaze settling on a corner of his desk. There, quietly, a palm-sized, unassuming iron plate lay. On one side, a complex pattern of clouds and water evoked a distinct pattern. On the other, a single, clear number—"Three"—gives a cold, shimmering glow in the candlelight.
"Is the real 'No. 3' box settled?" he asked.
"Yes." Mo Ya lowered his head. "The items have been delivered to a safe place through Shadow Scale's most secret channels. The account books, secret letters, and copies of the seals of the Northern Di royal court in the box have all been copied. According to the Prime Minister's instructions, the contents of the copies... are all irrefutable evidence, but... the two most crucial seal marks and three secret code cuts have been hidden."
Gu Linzhi picked up the cold iron plate with the number "3" on it, stroking the clear number with his fingertips, and a cold light gathered in his deep eyes.
"The bait must be fragrant and... lethal enough." His voice was like the undercurrent beneath a glacier. "Use the 'water ghost' line to release this copy, along with this iron plate. Let those 'fish' in Jiangnan, who have smelled blood and are in constant fear, know... that the ironclad evidence in Feng Zijing's hands, capable of confiscation of property and extermination of clans, is not... unique."
A gleam flashed in Mo Ya's eyes. "Your Excellency is trying to... lure the snake out of its hole and kill someone with a borrowed knife? Let those termites who have ties to the 'Yun Ze Society' and are afraid of being discovered by Feng Zijing, kill each other in order to snatch this 'life-saving talisman' and 'letter of surrender'?"
"Killing them would be too easy." Gu Linzhi's voice was icy. "Let them fight, let them compete, let them tear each other apart in desperation, dragging out more accomplices, more secrets, more filth... all of it. Feng Zijing's knife needs more... whetstones." He paused, his fingertips tightening, the cold iron plate's edge nearly digging into his fingertips. "As for Cao Wushang... what will this mad dog do when he smells this piece of meat with the word 'three' on it?"
The corners of Mo Ya's rigid mouth seemed to twitch upward ever so slightly, like the cold flash of a blade before it's unsheathed. "He'll do anything. A collar... can't hold a starving dog back."
Gu Linzhi said no more. He gently placed the iron plate with the number "3" on the center of the desk. In the candlelight, the cold number was like a silent, devouring vortex. He raised his hand, picked up the pen, and wrote a word on the snow-white rice paper with iron-like strokes and silver-like hooks:
bait.
The pen strokes are sharp and powerful enough to penetrate through the paper.
Outside the window, the long-simmering cold rain finally fell. Icy raindrops pounded against the eaves, a dense, monotonous thud, like the last drumbeat for a chess game already rife with murderous intent. While the bloody waves of Jiangnan hadn't subsided, the undercurrents of Shengjing were already seething. And the chess player, precisely casting a bait soaked in blood and lies, was plunging into the bottomless vortex.
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