SS CH52

After encountering these five individuals in a mountain cave, Chu Xiwei had been trailing them ever since.

The plump man leading them, known as “Boss He,” looked bloated and heavy, but his steps were actually light and agile. He was also highly alert, making him likely the most fundamentally skilled of the five. With his own injuries still troubling him, Chu Xiwei couldn’t follow too closely and had to keep a moderate distance. When they finally entered Anxi Mountain the previous night, the five split into two groups: Boss He and a tall, sturdy brute headed toward the only path out of the mountain, while Zhang Ze’s trio came to this location.

Chu Xiwei had originally intended to “capture the leader to capture the bandits,” but when he witnessed Boss He solemnly handing a package of fire-mines over to Zhang Ze, he hesitated before ultimately diverting his course to this side. It was fortunate he made that choice; after Zhang Ze hid the fire-mines, Chu Xiwei seized an opening to slice the interconnected fuses, then thoroughly drenched the gunpowder with water before settling nearby to watch the situation unfold.

As expected, the hunters waiting by the tree stump had finally caught their prey, completely unaware that their trap had already been sabotaged.

“You didn’t seem worried at all?” Hearing Ye Fusheng’s greeting, Chu Xiwei curled his lips. “If I hadn’t come, those fire-mines would have been enough to blow you all sky-high.”

Ye Fusheng rubbed his nose and said, “Since you said you would come, I naturally believed you.”

Beside them, Qin Lanchang rolled her eyes. Chu Xiwei offered no comment either way; lifting the hem of his robe, he sat down on a stool, picked up a cold, coarse flour mantou, and began to munch on it. The very drug that was meant to paralyze Ye Fusheng and the others for a long time was swallowed into his stomach as if it were nothing. Though he wasn’t devouring it ravenously, his speed was incredibly fast.

He looked as though he had been starving for the past two days. Ye Fusheng recalled the chubby little child from years ago who loved to eat and hated being tired; looking at his current appearance, his heart ached for him for some inexplicable reason. But now was not the time for idle chatter. He forced all those tiny, dense thorns pricking at his heart deep down into his flesh, turning his head to look at Zhang Ze, who was prone on the floor. He found that the old man had already stopped breathing at some unknown moment, his hollow, dilated eyes still staring fixedly at Ruan Feiyu, utterly devoid of light.

“His last words were that the heavens are unfair…” Ruan Feiyu pried open the hand that was still gripping his ankle. Bending down, he closed Zhang Ze’s eyes, looked up at Ye Fusheng, and smiled slightly. “I happen to agree.”

_

Xiu’er sat paralyzed on the floor, completely dazed for a long time. Only at this moment did she snap back to her senses. Pulling strength from some unknown source, she violently shoved Ruan Feiyu aside, flung herself over Zhang Ze’s still-warm corpse, and began to wail bitterly.

Lu Mingyuan remained silent, while Qin Lanchang’s eyes grew hot with tears. Staring at Zhang Ze’s body and the relentlessly weeping Xiu’er, she suddenly spat out a curse directly at Ruan Feiyu: “You old scoundrel who deserves a thousand cuts! Pei!“

She was young, and the target of her curse was the aged and widely renowned Southern Scholar; this outburst could be considered a severe breach of propriety. Chu Xiwei’s brow furrowed. Reflecting on the chaos this girl had caused by running away this time, his already unstable internal energy began to churn. A sudden wave of fury flared up in his chest, and he opened his mouth, fully intending to discipline her. Fortunately, Ye Fusheng was quick-witted; noticing the shift in his expression, he thrust the small silver flask forward, choosing that exact moment to pour a mouthful straight down his throat.

Chu Xiwei had been on the verge of teaching Qin Lanchang a harsh lesson, only to be hit by a mouthful of universally reviled medicinal liquid. He nearly passed out from the shock, instantly clutching his mouth as he coughed and sputtered uncontrollably.

“You… cough, cough!“

He was choking so badly he couldn’t form a coherent sentence, his face turning red to the very corners of his eyes. However, the fury in his chest felt as if it had suddenly met a torrential downpour, instantly drenching him in a refreshing chill. His agitated internal breath slowly stabilized. Recalling the very first time he had tasted Canglu years ago, Chu Xiwei asked in shocked suspicion, “What on earth is this?”

Seeing that it was indeed effective, Ye Fusheng let out a quiet sigh of relief in his heart. Shaking the completely emptied silver flask, he explained, “Wine brewed from the Crimson-Heart Snow Lotus.”

Chu Xiwei: “…”

Qin Lanchang kept her neck stiff, yet the expected lecture never came, causing her eyes to nearly pop out of their sockets in sheer astonishment. Having pacified Chu Xiwei, Ye Fusheng turned back to see her utterly bewildered look. Though he always prided himself on being in the prime of his youth, he couldn’t help but feel a sudden wave of grandfatherly weariness at this moment. He tapped her forehead with a light, measured flick, then bent down to hand Xiu’er a handkerchief—one that was flamboyantly embroidered with a pair of swallowtail butterflies.

He spoke gently, “A woman looks beautiful when she cries, but these tears of yours are a consequence brought upon you by our intrusion. It isn’t worth harming yourself over.”

This effortless display of casual flirtation left Qin Lanchang entirely speechless in admiration. Lu Mingyuan, a rigid scholar thoroughly steeped in the classics of sages, had already muttered “see no evil” under his breath and averted his gaze. Watching his behavior, Chu Xiwei couldn’t help but recall those young palace maids from years ago who used to glance over and giggle covertly; a sudden wave of displeasure welled within him. Yet, having grown accustomed to keeping things bottled up over the years, he showed no outward sign of it. He simply picked up another mantou and began to chew on it flavorlessly, his jaw moving with a rhythmic intensity, as if he were grinding someone’s flesh between his teeth.

Soothed by his gentle, soft-spoken words, Xiu’er wept even louder instead. She resentfully pushed Ye Fusheng’s hand away, sobbing, “You’re all a band of villains, I don’t need your fake kindness!”

“A young lady as beautiful as a flower shouldn’t speak so recklessly,” Ye Fusheng said, slipping the handkerchief directly into her palm, his tone remaining incredibly tender. “Those who kill bad people are not necessarily good, and those who kill good people are naturally not guaranteed to be bad.”

Xiu’er froze, clutching the handkerchief so tightly it nearly crumpled into a ball. “You’re just making excuses!”

“Why waste words on her?” Chu Xiwei sneered. “These characters who pride themselves as aggrieved victims of the orthodox path think that as long as they deem someone an evil villain, they can arbitrarily take their life. If they succeed, it’s ‘executing justice on behalf of heaven’; if they fail, it’s ‘the heavens are blind.’ Either way, the will of heaven is entirely dictated by whatever comes out of their own mouths. I truly wonder where they get such shameless audacity.”

“You!”

Xiu’er’s eyes turned red with fury. She wished nothing more than to rush forward, tear off her cloth shoe, and give him a sound thrashing. Ultimately, however, she refrained from doing something as foolish as striking a stone with an egg. Closing her eyes, she gritted her teeth and said, “Just kill me then!”

Ye Fusheng asked in genuine curiosity, “Why should we kill you?”

Xiu’er blinked in confusion, letting out a miserable laugh. “After we’ve done such a thing, is it possible that old thief Ruan would ever let me go?”

“You are Xu Congxia’s descendant?” Ruan Feiyu cast a glance at her, then suddenly shook his head. “You don’t look much like your maternal grandfather; only your eyes bear a resemblance, and you both cry quite easily.”

Ye Fusheng inquired, “You still remember him, sir?”

“In this life, the experiences of having my sleeves tugged on by a censor in the imperial court while being cursed through tears are few and far between,” Ruan Feiyu replied with a faint smile. “I still remember when Xu Congxia was dragged out of the palace gates by the imperial guards; he bit his own finger and used the blood to write the word ‘Traitor’ thirty-four times in succession across the ground. Regrettably, he had only managed to finish half of the final character before he was beaten to death with rods outside the camp gates.”

—

He spoke of these blood-drenched events of the past as if he were merely engaging in casual hearthside chat, sending a sudden chill through anyone listening. Xiu’er’s body shuddered violently, the fury in her eyes shifting into an inescapable terror. Shrunk back into herself, she didn’t dare to make another reckless move.

This Southern Scholar, who looked precisely like a perfectly amiable old gentleman, was actually a terrifying figure capable of reducing a child to silent dread.

Chu Xiwei methodically finished the final bite of his mantou and noted, “There are five of them in total. Two more are waiting up ahead—one tall, one fat—both are highly skilled.”

Hearing him finish speaking, the last traces of color drained from Xiu’er’s face. Ye Fusheng raised an eyebrow and asked, “If you and I were to strike, what are our chances of victory?”

“If it were merely to kill them, I alone would suffice.” Chu Xiwei’s fingers tapped against the tabletop. “However, traveling with this crowd of encumbrances means we must inevitably look ahead and behind. Furthermore, the leader carries fire-mines; we must remain on our guard against that.”

Ye Fusheng frowned. “Speaking of which, the war with the Northern Barbarians only just concluded a short while ago. Why hasn’t the imperial court established strict regulations regarding the issue of gunpowder?”

“The imperial court has long since issued a strict decree: anyone daring to smuggle gunpowder among the populace will be charged with a capital offense, and violators will be thrown into the Celestial Prison to await sentencing.” It was Lu Mingyuan who answered him. The Sanmei Academy existed as a massive intersection between the martial world and the imperial court; its ranks included both youths of the martial sects and scions of the court officials, making them quite well-informed regarding such matters. “This decree has already been widely implemented, and a countless number of people have been swept up in it. Logically speaking, no one among the common populace should be able to acquire such a large quantity of contraband gunpowder.”

“Since it didn’t come from the common populace, then it must have come from the imperial court.” Chu Xiwei’s eyes turned icy as he looked toward Ruan Feiyu. “These remnants of exiled criminal officials were able to secure fire-mines, and they were fully aware of both the movements of the Hidden Shadow Guards and your personal itinerary, sir. It is evident that there must be someone within the imperial court serving as an internal informant… Lord Ruan, do you have any inkling?”

Whether Ruan Feiyu was truly ignorant or simply playing the fool at this moment, he merely smiled faintly and replied, “This old frame’s life has always been quite valuable.”

Chu Xiwei thoroughly despised dealing with this sort of slippery, untouchable old fox, and his brow furrowed instantly. However, Ye Fusheng spoke up instead, remarking, “From what I can see, the opposing side might not necessarily want your life.”

Qin Lanchang failed to comprehend these subtle verbal thrusts and asked, “Why?”

“If I were that person—since I am capable of knowing so many closely guarded secrets—then I should also be aware that relying on these mere methods would absolutely fail to bring down the preeminent Southern Scholar.” Chu Xiwei took up the thread, looking toward Xiu’er with an expression as contemptuous as if he were looking at a completely insignificant pebble. “No matter how many stumbling blocks there are, as long as it isn’t Mount Tai crashing down upon one’s head, they amount to nothing once kicked aside… In other words, you people simply lack the qualifications to claim the Southern Scholar’s life.”

Xiu’er’s face filled with absolute disbelief. Ye Fusheng added, “I found it strange that night as well. Though the people of the Soul-Snatching Palace don’t possess three heads and six arms, they aren’t a collection of completely useless simpletons either. How could they be thrown into such an utter mess by two mere youngsters? Even my rescue of Lord Ruan executed far too easily.”

“Furthermore,” Chu Xiwei sneered, “that faceless Master of the Soul-Snatching Palace clearly had the opportunity to kill me, yet he stood by and watched as I used his own force to escape.”

“Are you saying the Soul-Snatching Palace deliberately let him go?” Qin Lanchang’s eyes widened. “Have they nothing better to do after stuffing themselves with food?”

“That is a question for Lord Ruan.” Ye Fusheng turned to face Ruan Feiyu directly. “Do they perhaps possess some demand of you, sir?”

Every instance of deliberately loosening the reins to catch the prey in this world was nothing more than a roundabout game of political maneuvering.

Ruan Feiyu stared at him for a long moment before this thousand-year-old clam finally cracked open his shell: “The Soul-Snatching Palace takes silver to perform tasks, and this instance is no exception.”

“Then it is their employer behind the scenes. What is it that they wish for you to do, sir?”

“This old frame has reached such an advanced age; I bit far too many people during the first half of my life, and I have no desire to act as a hound anymore.” Ruan Feiyu offered a self-deprecating jibe with a faint smile. Ye Fusheng and Chu Xiwei exchanged a glance, their expressions instantly turning solemn.

The grand Southern Scholar had reached the absolute pinnacle of a minister’s rank, serving as the head of all officials for many years. When had he ever debased himself to such an extent?

If he compared himself to a hunting hound, then who else could hold the leash and pull the reins besides a member of the imperial family?

The current Emperor, Chu Ziyu, had always placed immense trust in Ruan Feiyu; over the years, whenever Ruan Feiyu proposed a policy, the Emperor invariably accepted and revised it with favor. The two could be described as a perfectly harmonious match between ruler and minister, making it entirely unnecessary for him to engage in such underhanded tactics. Furthermore, Chu Ziyu’s imperial harem contained very few concubines, and to this day, he had not sired a single imperial heir or princess. Therefore, those who could still be deemed members of the imperial family… were only the remaining sons left behind by the late Emperor—the uncles of the current monarch.

The late Emperor had sired a total of three daughters and nine sons. Among them, two princesses had been wed to remote regions beyond the borders for political alliances, while one had passed away from illness four years ago. Among the nine imperial princes, the eldest had died long ago; the second prince had fallen out of favor with the late Emperor due to his involvement in the case of Qin Hebai years prior. The remaining seven had plunged into a bloody war of succession, utterly disregarding fraternal bonds in a life-or-death struggle, only for the eldest imperial grandson, Chu Ziyu, to step in unexpectedly and seize the throne, leaving none of them with any advantage.

During that struggle for the throne, more than half of the seven princes had perished. After ascending to power, Chu Ziyu employed various methods to consolidate his authority. Arriving at the present day, those who were still capable of causing trouble in this world—and possessed the means to orchestrate these movements—amounted to a mere three individuals:

The Second Prince, Chu Yu: Enfeoffed as Prince Duan, remaining in the capital of Tianjing.

The Fifth Prince, Chu Yun: Enfeoffed as Prince Cheng, guarding the Eastern Sea Pass.

The Ninth Prince, Chu Yuan: Enfeoffed as Prince Li, guarding the city of Weifeng.

Regardless of which individual had engineered this affair, it indicated that a treacherous heart of rebellion had taken root.

Ye Fusheng’s heart sank. He felt a faint, looming premonition that this matter… would not find a peaceful resolution.