Chapter 75: Bloodbath (2)

Chapter 75: Bloodbath (2)

When Le Wuya left the yamen, a group of servants, grooms, and coachmen were waiting outside, looking dusty and weary from traveling all night, craning their necks for their masters to come out.

Among them were two tall, elegant figures, as luminous as the moon.

Seeing such a pleasing sight the moment he stepped out, Le Wuya was quite satisfied. He walked up to the two and gave a jaunty twist of his body: "Who are you two waiting for? Who's the lucky one?"

His words were so flirtatious that bystanders turned to stare.

But after looking and comparing, everyone withdrew their gazes, conceding that it was hard to say who the lucky one really was.

"Lucky in appetite as well." Xiang Zhijie smiled with pursed lips, handing over an oil-paper-wrapped fried dough stick wrapped around sticky rice cake. "It's plain."

Le Wuya glanced at the snack offered to him, suspecting that his taste preferences were already known to everyone.

Wen Ren, ever the pragmatist: "Returning to Nanting?"

Le Wuya took a bite of the snack and mumbled indistinctly: "No. Going to Xingtai."

Wen Ren frowned slightly: "Something going on?"

"Could be nothing." Le Wuya paused. "...Or maybe something enormous."

...

The three rode swiftly, beating Shao Hongzhen to Xingtai.

Perhaps the dust from the Xingtai massacre had yet to settle; the city gates were heavily guarded, checking the identity of every passerby. Without proof of identity, no one could enter the city.

Le Wuya found a post station along the way, changed out of his official robes, and temporarily disguised himself as a young scholar in blue robes.

But once he revealed his identity, it would inevitably tip off the enemy.

Le Wuya asked Wen Ren: "What should we do?"

Wen Ren knew this wasn't a question but a test.

He pondered for a moment and replied: "Two go ahead to stir things up, while one hides and watches how the snake reacts. Would that work?"

Le Wuya made no comment. Instead, he took out his fan, opened it with a flourish, and held it over his head to block the sun: "Your Excellency, what do you think?"

"I have seven sets of identification." Xiang Zhijie answered. "Merchant, scholar, wealthy householder—each with different names, all stamped with official seals. Take your pick."

Le Wuya looked at his two prized disciples, a faint smile creeping across his face.

Then he covered his mouth with the sun-heated fan and whispered to Xiang Zhijie: "Has your secret guard caught up yet?"

Xiang Zhijie looked back behind him and replied: "Not yet."

No sooner had he spoken than he got a light but firm tap on the head with the fan.

Xiang Zhijie: "?"

Le Wuya, ever fair, gave Wen Ren's head a tap too.

Wen Ren knew this was his punishment for answering wrong.

He held his forehead but still humbly asked: "Then, Magistrate, what are we to do?"

Le Wuya put on a stern face: "You want to know?"

Wen Ren: "Yes."

Le Wuya ducked his head, shoulders shaking, and finally burst out laughing: "We're not going into the city!"

Wen Ren: "...Huh?"

Le Wuya laughed and scolded: "The crime didn't happen inside Xingtai city, you idiot! Otherwise, how would they have fled after a midnight murder? Were they supposed to wait for the gates to open at dawn?"

His voice rose as he scolded, brows arched, radiating a rare liveliness that neither could look away from.

Having teased his two disciples, his companions from past and present lives, Le Wuya with a flourish turned his horse's head: "Let's go!"

Wen Ren: "Going to check out the murder scene?"

Le Wuya stroked his chin and gave another unexpected answer: "I'm getting a shave!"

...

Along the main road, craftsmen gathered in small groups—tea sellers, knife sharpeners, bowl repairmen, farriers. They strolled along the roadside, and whenever travelers paused to rest, they swarmed over, hawking their wares to scrape together a living.

It wasn't long before Le Wuya and his companions ran into a barber.

With the sun well up but not yet at its peak, they set up shop under a massive, sky-covering tree, enjoying the cool shade.

By the time his shave was done, Le Wuya had gotten the full story of the Xingtai murders.

It matched what Magistrate Shao had said, but with far more detail.

"The Yin family, alas—good people don't get rewarded." The barber had long perfected the art of talking a mile a minute without spraying a single drop of spit. "They kindly took in that bunch, but who'd have thought they were letting a pack of wolves in?"

Le Wuya closed his eyes, looking relaxed, enjoying the service while probing: "Do the Yin and Hang families live close together?"

"They're in the same village—one at the east end of Yin Family Village, the other at the west end."

Le Wuya: "Then the Yin house must not have been big enough."

The barber was intrigued by the conversation: "What do you mean by that?"

Le Wuya said lazily: "Over a dozen bandits—why split between two houses instead of staying in one?"

The barber took the soft, steaming towel off his chin and chuckled: "This old man wouldn't know. I live in Zhang Family Village, next to Yin Family Village, seven or eight miles of mountain roads away. Last year, my daughter married into Huang Family Village, next to Yin Family Village..."

Le Wuya stopped pressing further and continued listening to the trivial tale of his daughter raising two piglets after marriage.

Wen Ren and Xiang Zhijie exchanged a glance.

Le Wuya's question seemed casual but struck right at the heart of the matter.

Generally, bandits and robbers concentrated their forces for a job—one heist every six months, living off it for half a year.

Either they robbed one household in force, or they wiped out an entire village in one go.

Robbing two wealthy families in the same village on the same day was genuinely strange.

Still, it was possible that the Yin or Hang households didn't have enough rooms to house over a dozen people, so some had gone elsewhere for lodging and committed another robbery on the side.

As they chatted, the barber brought up the magistrate of Xingtai.

"Magistrate Shao, now there's a good official."

As he said this, the barber's weathered face took on a hint of genuine solemnity and warmth: "Ever since Magistrate Shao arrived, he hasn't added any new taxes on us. Before, we wouldn't have dared set up our stalls like this. In broad daylight, people got robbed and killed—one slash, and your head was gone, along with your stuff. Now it's peaceful and quiet. I can give folks shaves and clean their ears, and it's real nice. This peace is all thanks to Magistrate Shao, who makes his rounds several times a day."

Le Wuya opened his eyes, staring up at the thick canopy of leaves above, and after a pause, asked, "Have you seen him?"

"Seen him? Sure have," the barber replied. "I've even given him a shave. See, this here's the very blade."

With that, he proudly held up the dull silver razor in his hand.

"I gave Magistrate Shao a shave, and he paid me, not a single coin short. I've lived for decades and never seen an official this honest and clean. Oh, and his money pouch had patches on it—I heard his late wife embroidered it, and he loves it so much he won't throw it away..."

Listening to the barber's endless chatter, Le Wuya could tell:

This Magistrate Shao really had the people's support.

Prefect Lyu's assessment was from a higher-up, so it didn't really count.

Qi Wuhu was always fair and spoke well of him, but he'd never worked with him day in and day out.

Only the common folks who'd lived here for years, willing to sing his praises—that was the real proof.

As they talked, another squad of local soldiers came down the main road and, without a word, demanded to see their IDs.

Half an hour ago, when Le Wuya and his crew first stopped their horses here, a patrol of local soldiers had passed by, five men to a group, checking for unfamiliar faces.

Seeing them show up, the barber puffed up with confidence: "See, sir? Magistrate Shao really looks out for us."

Le Wuya narrowed his eyes at the group.

Whether he cared or not didn't matter.

What mattered was that both squads of soldiers passed through, and not one of them asked these tradesmen for a single favor. They checked them and left, without bothering anyone.

Local soldiers were usually recruited from village militias and organized into squads, and their quality was all over the place.

Even regular troops had a bad reputation for "sweeping through like a comb," using their muscle and blades to bully the common folks and squeeze the countryside—that was the norm.

Strict discipline could only be kept among personal guards.

Even under General Dingyuan and General Zhaoyi, you couldn't avoid having scum like that.

For a county magistrate to whip a ragtag bunch of local soldiers into shape like his own personal guards—even when he wasn't in the county, they didn't slack off or bully the people—took real skill. Le Wuya was almost tempted to drop his investigation and go make his acquaintance instead.

After that squad of soldiers drank the tea the stall owner eagerly served, wiped their mouths, and left, Le Wuya stood up, checked his face in the scratched bronze mirror, and paid five copper coins, satisfied.

Back with his two companions, Wen Ren Yue had clearly been thinking the same thing: "Still investigating?"

Le Wuya: "Yes."

Wen Ren Yue asked, genuinely curious, "What else seems suspicious?"

"Hard to say." Le Wuya mounted his horse. "...Let's just treat this as a special trip to prove he's innocent."

Hearing him say "innocent," Zhi Jie opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped.

He remembered what had happened four years ago.

When that snowstorm that nearly buried heaven and earth started coming down, he knelt straight up in front of the Zhaoming Hall.

The emperor's personal eunuch, Xue Jie, stomped his feet anxiously and wailed, "Sixth Prince, for a great criminal, why put yourself through all this?"

Zhi Jie stared hard at the brightly lit Zhaoming Hall and said, "He is innocent. If there is guilt in all directions, it lies in..."

His last words were swallowed up by the sudden wind and snow, gone without a trace.

Xue Jie hadn't caught the last part, and seeing his just-grown body swaying in the cold wind, he said sadly, "Le Wuya is guilty—the worst traitor since Dayu was founded. This is the emperor's decree, spoken from his golden mouth, and it can't be changed!"

Zhi Jie: "He is my teacher. That too is the emperor's decree, spoken from the golden mouth, and I will not change it for a lifetime."

Seeing his unyielding resolve, knowing his heart was as hard as iron and could not be turned, Xue Jie softened his voice: "If you freeze your body, how am I to answer for it?"

"If he... is destined to freeze to death in the wind of rumor and snow..." Zhi Jie exhaled a misty breath, "then what harm is there in me accompanying him on this final stretch?"

Xue Jie had nothing more to say and could only turn back to report.

Back then, it was so cold, and yet so warm.

Heaven and earth were one expanse of white, the north wind howled sharply, stripping away the warmth from his body.

But inside him burned a fire, blazing brightly, occasionally filling him with warmth and dizziness.

Now, the scorching summer sunlight poured down on Zhi Jie.

Unlike that false warmth of the past, this time it was genuine warmth and heat.

Zhi Jie believed Le Wuya was innocent—from beginning to end, he had never doubted it.

So, he was willing to believe in what his teacher believed.

He too leaped onto his horse, his eyes filled with layers of memories, but when it came to words, only a brief phrase escaped: "I'll go with you."