Chapter 18
The rain was pouring down furiously. The surface of the Qiantang River was pounded with white foam, its murky current carrying broken branches and rotten grass as it crashed whimperingly against the shore. Five miles from the Tongyuan Cao Gang's headquarters, an abandoned Dragon King Temple, its broken tiles leaking water, formed a muddy stream before a statue covered in cobwebs and thick dust. The air was thick with the smell of mold, water, and... fresh blood.
In the center of the temple, several corpses lay, their wounds horrific, blood and rainwater flowing across the potholed ground. The seven or eight men who remained alive, all wounded, gasped, their soaked clothes clinging to their wiry muscles. Their eyes, like those of hungry wolves, were fixed on the mud-stained camphorwood box beneath the shrine.
The box was not big, only about a foot and a half square, and of ordinary style, but a piece of paint had just been knocked off the corner, revealing a pale wood stump - it was the "Number 7" box that was taken out of Zhao Wenbi's house by "Loach" that night!
"Damn it! Pan Laoguai and his gang of idiots risked their lives for an empty box, and I got a bargain!" A bald man with a face full of flesh and a ferocious night demon tattooed on his chest wiped the blood off his face and stepped forward with a grin, "Brothers, the box belongs to me, 'Fanjiang Night Demon' Hu Laoliu, and we can share the things inside! How about it?" The blood groove on the ghost-head knife in his hand was still dripping with blood.
"Bullshit!" A one-eyed man nearby spat fiercely, holding the water-dividing spear in his hand, a fierce gleam in his one eye. "Hu Laoliu, who do you think you are? My brother 'Langli Jiao' risked his life to dig this box out of the pile of corpses of Pan Laoguai! You want to rob me? Have you asked me about the weapon I have?"
"Shut the hell up!" An old man, skinny as a monkey and with a rat-like mustache, spoke sinisterly. He was Sun Haozi, the local tyrant who was best informed in the area. "The box is empty! What are you fighting over? Before Pan Laoguai died, he howled like a pig being slaughtered. All the wild dogs in the mass grave heard it!"
"Empty?" Hu Laoliu chuckled and pointed the tip of his knife at the inner wall of the box near the lock. "Sun Haozi, are you blind? Look at these scratches! Fresh! The things inside must have been pried away long ago! But this box itself... hehe," greed flared in his eyes. "It's not the things inside that are valuable, it's this box! The immense wealth behind it! Whoever holds it will have the key to box 'number three'! It's the stepping stone to submitting to the imperial court and to that King Gu!"
Those words were like a flame, instantly igniting the last shred of rationality in the eyes of these desperate men! Yeah! So what if the box is empty? Box No. 7 itself is the symbol of the Yunze Society! It's irrefutable evidence of their involvement in that monstrous deal! With it, they can prove they've "recovered" the evidence! They can then knock on Gu Yanwang's door! Or... knock on the door of some other powerful figure! In exchange for a chance to survive, or even find wealth and glory!
"The box belongs to me!" The one-eyed dragon was the first one who couldn't hold back, and the water-dividing spear brought a fierce wind straight to Hu Laoliu's throat!
"Looking for death!" Hu Laoliu swung his ghost-head knife, and the blade scraped across the bluestone slab, splashing a streak of sparks!
“Grab it!”
The Dragon King Temple instantly transformed into a bloody arena! The few remaining men tore at each other like mad dogs, fighting for that empty box, for that illusory "stepping stone"! Blades flashed, blood and flesh flew everywhere! Roars, screams, the clash of weapons, the sound of bones breaking, echoed wildly in the leaky, dilapidated temple, drowning out the pounding rain outside!
No one noticed that through the cracks in the crooked rear window of the dilapidated temple, two cold, unmoved eyes silently observed the bloody farce. Mo Ya was like a stone statue in the temple's shadow, rain trickling down the edge of his bamboo hat, forming a small puddle at his feet. Behind him, several members of the Shadow Scale, also blending into the rain, their auras as subdued as those of inanimate objects.
"A bunch of idiots." Mo Ya's voice was as low as a mosquito, and only the people behind him could hear it. "To die for bait is not a pity. Keep an eye on that rat, Sun. If he tries to escape, give him a ride."
"Yes." A very low voice responded.
The fight inside the temple was drawing to a close. Hu Laoliu, one-eyed dragon's water-dividing spear lodged in his chest, his throat slit open by a ghost-headed knife. Both men lay glaring in despair in a pool of blood. Sun Haozi, stabbed through the abdomen by a slingshot man, clutched his wound in vain, gasping for air. The only two left standing were the slingshot man and a short, stocky man wielding a hatchet. Both were covered in blood, panting heavily, their bloodshot eyes fixed on the empty box on the ground, then glaring warily at each other.
"Brother...Brother..." The man's voice was hoarse, with a barely perceptible tremor, "The box...is yours! I...I just want the piece of paper that might be hidden inside...a piece of paper that can save my life..."
"Bullshit!" The short and stocky man swung his hatchet, his face fierce and fierce. "I don't trust you! Get out! Or die!"
At this critical moment!
“Puff! Puff!”
Two subtle sounds, almost drowned out by the sound of rain, pierced the air. Two steel needles, as thin as ox hair and gleaming with a cold blue light, like the fangs of a venomous snake, precisely penetrated the eyebrows of the sturdy man and the short man!
The ferocity on their faces froze instantly, their eyes became unfocused, and their bodies swayed, like a sack with its bones pulled out. They fell into a pool of blood with two thuds, splashing muddy blood.
The ruined temple was completely silent, with only the sounds of dripping rain and the gurgling of blood from corpses.
Several figures, like ghosts, drifted down from the shattered roof of the Dragon King Temple, landing silently. They wore tight-fitting jackets, covered with unassuming gray cloth, and black scarves obscured their faces, revealing only their cold, ruthless eyes. The leader, a nimble figure, his gaze swift as lightning, swept across the corpses scattered across the floor, finally settling on the empty trunk. A subtle frown crossed his face. He crouched down, carefully rubbing his fingers along the fresh scratches on the inside of the trunk. Then he leaned in and sniffed, seeming to catch a faint scent, masked by the smell of blood and mold... the scent of wisteria?
He raised his head suddenly, his eyes as sharp as a knife, and shot towards the rear window! There, there were only crooked window panels and pouring rain.
"Search! See if there is anyone alive! Especially that Sun Haozi!" The masked man in the lead spoke in a low and hoarse voice, with unquestionable murderous intent.
Several men immediately spread out like hounds, quickly searching the pile of corpses and the corners of the ruined temple.
Outside the rear window, Mo Ya's figure had already silently retreated into the deeper rain, as if he had never appeared. Only where he had just stood, the water seemed a little more turbid than elsewhere, mixed with a barely visible muddy yellow powder that was quickly diluted by the rain.
Inside the temple, a masked man kicked Sun Haozi's limp body and shook his head: "Boss, they're all dead. I didn't find anything else."
The masked leader stared at the empty box with a sinister look. Wisteria? Ice silk? And the contents of box number seven, which had been pried away earlier... The clues seemed to point to that mysterious woman again. He bent down, ready to personally inspect the box.
Suddenly, his ears moved ever so slightly! Almost at the same time, he suddenly rolled to the side like a lazy donkey!
"boom--!!!"
With a deafening bang, the seemingly ordinary camphorwood box exploded violently just as the masked man's fingers were about to touch it! The massive shockwave, carrying with it shattered wood, nails, and the rubble and mud inside, swept across the entire Dragon King Temple like countless sharp shotgun shells!
"ah--!"
The screams abruptly stopped! The two masked men closest to them were instantly blown to pieces! The others were also violently blown away by the shockwave, crashing into the statues on the wall, breaking tendons and bones! The ruins of the dilapidated temple trembled in the explosion, and a corner of the already shaky roof collapsed!
Thick smoke, mixed with the smell of gunpowder and blood, filled the leaky, dilapidated temple. Though the masked leader reacted quickly, dodging a fatal blow, several flying wood splinters lodged deeply in his shoulder and back, instantly staining his gray cloth red with blood. He half-knelt in the filthy, bloody mud, coughing violently. Beneath the black scarf covering his face, his eyes were filled with horror, rage, and a hint of unbelievable fear!
Trap! This is a fucking elaborate trap! This "Number 7" box is just a blood bait bomb waiting to be touched!
"Boss... Boss..." A subordinate who luckily survived was twitching in a pool of blood, his voice broken.
The masked leader yanked off his blood-stained face, revealing a face covered in rusty scars and a fierce look in his eyes. It was none other than Han Meng, Cao Wushang's trusted lieutenant, the "Water Scorpion"! He stared intently at the still-smoldering pile of crates and the shattered flesh and limbs strewn across the ground. A beast-like growl erupted from his throat, and he slammed his fist into the broken pillar nearby!
“Gu Linzhi——!!!”
Shengjing, the western warm room of Qianyuan Palace.
The silver charcoal burned brightly, dispelling the chill of late autumn, but it couldn't dispel the dark cloud between Zhao Heng's brows and... a hint of fear he tried hard to conceal. On the imperial desk before him lay a secret report from the Jiangnan Metropolitan Procuratorate, which had just arrived, expedited from six hundred miles away.
It wasn't Feng Zijing's handwriting. The writing was steady, with a subtle tremor. It must have been written by the accompanying Minister of Personnel.
"...our officials arrived in Hangzhou upon imperial decree and immediately joined the garrison to besiege Zhao Wenbi's residence. However, the residence was reduced to ashes, Zhao Wenbi and over a hundred of his family and servants perished in the flames, their remains unrecognizable. Transport Commissioner Zhou Kang hanged himself in his official residence's study! He left behind a 'letter of apology,' stating that he had been 'deceived by unscrupulous merchants and felt guilty for the emperor's grace.' He offered no details about his involvement in treason, nor did he implicate anyone else! Salt merchant leader Zhou Shihong... remains missing! The core figures of the 'Yunze Society' have seemingly vanished from the face of the earth! The scattered account books and letters we recovered are all obscure, with key names, numbers, and seals... all obscured or torn out! We...we have failed the emperor's grace! Leading clues...are all but lost! Lord Feng is overcome with worry and anger, and his injuries...are likely to worsen..."
"Useless! A bunch of useless!" Zhao Heng slammed the secret report onto the imperial desk! His chest heaving violently, his face livid. "Dead! All dead! The clues are gone! Great! So cleanly cut!" He panted, his eyes filled with rage and bottomless fear. Zhou Kang "committed suicide"? Zhao Wenbi's entire family "burned in a sea of fire"? Zhou Shihong vanished? The "Yun Ze Society" vanished? This wasn't an investigation; it was clearly a brutal, thorough blaze to completely incinerate every clue! Not even an ashes remained!
Who was it? Was it the Yunze Society, severing its ties to survive? Or... was it Gu Linzhi, after using someone else's knife to kill someone, then personally took action to erase all traces? Either way, it left the emperor feeling like he was being roasted on the grill! He had dispatched imperial envoys, issued imperial decrees, mobilized troops, and in the end... nothing was found? Where did this leave Zhao Heng's dignity?! Where did the imperial court's dignity remain?
"Your Majesty, please calm down..." Wang Defu fell to his knees with a trembling voice.
"Calm down? How can you expect me to calm down?!" Zhao Heng turned his head abruptly, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Cao Wushang, who was standing beside him with an equally grim expression. "Cao Wushang! Where are your people? Where are my Southern Pacification Division?! Didn't you say you had Jiangnan under surveillance?! All the people are dead! All the clues are gone! Where are your people?! Are they all dead?!"
Cao Wushang fell to his knees with a thud, his forehead clattering heavily against the gold bricks. His voice was hoarse and filled with the resentment of someone driven to despair. "Your Majesty! This servant... this servant deserves to die! This servant is incompetent! My men... were ambushed while tracking down box 'Number Seven'... at an abandoned Dragon King Temple by the Qiantang River! The box... the box was a trap! It was filled with gunpowder! My trusted confidant, Han Meng... was seriously injured! The elite troops I brought with me... were completely wiped out, Your Majesty!" He raised his head, his face filled with genuine pain and fear, but his eyes burned with a mad fire. "This... this must be Gu Linzhi's work! He deliberately spread the news of box 'Number Seven' to lure my men to rob it! And then... then he would catch them all in one fell swoop! He wants to eliminate Your Majesty's eyes and ears! He wants to make Jiangnan completely his own, Gu Linzhi's back garden, Your Majesty!"
"Gu Linzhi... Gu Linzhi..." Zhao Heng muttered the name, his body trembling slightly, a chill running down his spine and into his head. Eliminate his spies? In the back garden? Cao Wushang's words were like a venomous snake, biting fiercely at his deepest fear. Yes! It must be so! Only Gu Linzhi could have such means! Only he could be so ruthless! He used Feng Zijing's hand to lift the lid, forcing him to express his position, and then used the most thorough method to smooth things over, making him, the emperor, the biggest joke! Finally, he also got rid of the vicious dog he had sent to follow him!
"What...what does he want to do..." Zhao Heng's voice trembled slightly, as if he saw Gu Linzhi's calm and bottomless eyes in the Golden Palace again.
"Your Majesty!" Cao Wushang, as if grasping at a lifeline, crawled a few steps on his knees, his voice filled with bewitching and desperate savagery, "Gu Lin's wolfish ambitions are obvious! He used the Jiangnan case to exclude dissidents and massacre officials, and now he's even openly killing the emperor's own troops! This is treason! Your Majesty! There's no time to hesitate! We must...we must eliminate his minions and seize his power! Otherwise...otherwise, the consequences will be disastrous!"
"Handholds? Authority?" Zhao Heng slumped down on the dragon throne, his eyes filled with powerlessness. "His handholds are former members of the Jingbei Army! They are 'Shadow Scales'! They are spread across the government and the country! His authority... is mine... the power of assistant I personally gave him..." He grabbed the armrests of the dragon throne fiercely, his knuckles turning white. "Feng Zijing... How is Feng Zijing? His injuries..."
"Your Majesty!" Cao Wushang said urgently, "Feng Zijing is old and confused, and he's seriously injured. It's difficult for him to do anything in Jiangnan! Now all leads to Jiangnan have been cut off, and the Imperial Envoy's Office is useless! The most urgent task is to send another capable person! Retake control of Jiangnan! We must... we must do it before Gu Linzhi completely turns Jiangnan into an ironclad entity! Dig out Zhou Shihong, the true core of the 'Yunze Society'... That is the real evidence that can nail Gu Linzhi... or at least make him hesitate... Your Majesty!"
Zhao Heng's cloudy eyes suddenly lit up, like a drowning man grasping at a straw. Zhou Shihong! The true core of the Yunze Society! As long as they were captured and the real evidence was obtained... they could counter Gu Linzhi! They could turn this out-of-control situation back into their own hands!
"Who to send?" Zhao Heng's voice was filled with anxiety.
A hint of triumph flashed in Cao Wushang's eyes, and he said in a deep voice, "I recommend someone! The former Deputy Censor of Jiangnan Province, Shen Mo! This man is shrewd and capable, familiar with the complex web of officialdom and underworld forces in Jiangnan! Even more valuable is... he and Gu Linzhi have a long-standing grudge from the Xie Yong case! Moreover, his family's assets were once squeezed and embezzled by the Yunze Society! If he goes, he will surely... surely do his best to relieve Your Majesty's worries!"
"Shen Mo..." Zhao Heng chewed on the name, a calculating glint in his eyes. He had old grudges, personal animosity, was shrewd, and familiar... He was indeed a suitable candidate! A dog that could bite, but wouldn't be easily subdued by Gu Linzhi... a good dog!
"Approved! Draft an edict immediately! Promote Shen Mo to the position of Inspector of Jiangnan Province, wielding the Imperial Sword, with full authority to track down Zhou Shihong and the remnants of the Yunze Society! All officials below the third rank in the Jiangnan Provinces are under his control! He has the power to execute first and report later! Let him... turn Jiangnan upside down for me!"
"I obey your order!" Cao Wushang kowtowed heavily, a sinister smile appearing on his lowered face.
Prime Minister's Residence, "Quiet Observation" Study.
The candlelight cast Gu Linzhi's figure on the vast map. The area south of the Yangtze River, outlined in cinnabar, looked like a bleeding wound. Outside the window, the sound of rain pattered, carrying the chill of late autumn.
The black crow stood silently in the shadows, reporting in a rigid voice the "harvest" of the Dragon King Temple and the latest decree of the Qianyuan Palace.
"...Han Meng fled, gravely wounded. All of his elite troops perished at the Dragon King Temple. The 'blood bait' exploded, and the evidence points to a vendetta."
"Cao Wushang recommended Shen Mo, and His Majesty has approved it. Shen Mo has been promoted to the position of Inspector of Jiangnan Province. He holds the Imperial Sword and controls those below the third rank, executing them first and reporting to His Majesty later."
Gu Linzhi's gaze lingered for a moment on the map, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the area until they finally landed on the winding blue line representing the Qiantang River. Without turning back, he simply asked, "What are you talking about?"
"Have you found that ice silk thread?"
"Yes." Mo Ya lowered his head. "'Shadow Scale' used the deepest nail buried in the 'Tiangongfang' in the north. This silk was confirmed to be a secret craftsmanship of the 'Snow Spider Pavilion' of the Northern Di royal court, exclusively for the royal family and... their direct 'Phantom' assassins. It is neither gold nor silver, impervious to water or fire, and indestructible by swords. This item appeared in Jiangnan..."
"The Northern Di have extended their reach deeper than we thought." Gu Linzhi's voice was calm, without a trace of surprise. "'Yunze Society'? Perhaps... it's just a facade. The real manipulators are hiding in the shadows." He slowly turned and walked to the desk. There, quietly lay the cold iron plate numbered "3," along with several ink-stained rubbings—the very copies from which the key secret codes and codewords had been deliberately obscured.
He picked up a rubbing and his eyes fell on the blank spaces that had been carefully erased. In his deep eyes, a cold light flashed like a glacier suddenly cracking.
"Shen Mo... a mad dog pushed out by Cao Wushang." He tapped the rubbing lightly with his fingertips. "Does he want irrefutable evidence? Does he want to overthrow Jiangnan?" Gu Linzhi's lips curled up slightly, yet icy coldly. "Then... give it to him."
He gently placed the rubbing next to the iron plate number "3".
"Give this 'gift', along with the news of Shen Mo's promotion, to... our 'friend' who hides in the dark and loves the scent of purple wisteria." Gu Linzhi's voice was low, echoing like the abyss. "Tell her that Shen Mo... is going to dig up the ancestral tomb of the 'Yun Ze Society'. The 'things' in this box are enough to bring Shen Mo... and the people who sent him there to eternal damnation."
Mo Ya's expressionless face held no emotion, only a hint of cold understanding flashed through his eyes. The Prime Minister was... going to lead Shen Mo, the mad dog, Cao Wushang behind him, and even the potentially implicated Northern Di forces... all into the true... death trap secretly woven from Box "Number Three"! He was going to let these venomous snakes, coveting this deadly "ironclad evidence," slaughter each other on the blood-soaked wasteland of Jiangnan!
"Yes." Mo Ya accepted the order in a deep voice.
Gu Linzhi said nothing more. He picked up his brush, dipped it in thick ink, and slowly wrote a word on the snow-white rice paper:
deep.
The brushstrokes were as solid as iron, the ink deep and dark, as if to condense the boundless darkness and murderous intent within this single word. The candlelight flickered, casting a flickering shadow on his serene profile. The bait had sunk into the abyss, and sharks, sensing the scent, were swarming. But the true hunter, standing on the abyss's edge, coldly gazed down upon the bloody feast about to unfold within the bottomless vortex.
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