Chapter 212: Karma

Chapter 212: Karma

Xuan County, Huangzhou, lay north of the capital. In the early morning of the second month, the cold still cut to the bone.

The county gates had barely opened when a mob of smoke-blackened, half-naked monks came staggering in, half-carrying one man and dragging another, and raised a ruckus at the county office, wailing that bandits had hit San Gui Temple.

A pack of half-naked monks parading down the street was bound to turn heads.

Before they even reached the county office, a good number of townsfolk had already gathered to rubberneck.

The late emperor had revered Daoism above all, obsessed with alchemy and chasing immortality elixirs. Who knows if he'd already ascended to the heavens, and what post he was pulling up there in the celestial bureaucracy?

But the current emperor clearly wanted nothing to do with Daoism—he just couldn't say so outright, out of filial piety.

The underlings were experts at reading the boss's mind.

New emperor, new courtiers, after all.

Though the public mood hadn't yet swung to "crush Daoism, exalt Buddhism," Buddhism still quietly held the upper hand over Daoism.

Buddhist temples got generous government funding, and monks could travel more freely than in the last dynasty.

What bandit would dare rob a Buddhist temple?

Not even leaving a tiny mountain shrine alone?

No matter where you go, folks love a good show.

Watching a bunch of half-naked men march into court to lodge a complaint was a sight to behold.

The county office entrance was jammed with gawkers, all dying to see what kind of freak case this was.

The abbot, Dharma name Liao Ran, cradled his hurt arm, his face full of grief, and told the story of last night.

The monks of San Gui Temple, out of the goodness of their hearts, had let this man stay the night.

But in the dead of night, the man locked the dormitory doors from the outside, planning to torch the place and kill everyone inside.

Luckily, the arhats in heaven watch over the good.

Two monks with bad stomachs had gone out together to use the latrine and weren't locked in. They saw the fire, rushed back, busted down the doors, and saved everyone.

The bastard hadn't gotten far before the monks, their vow against anger blown to hell, caught up with him. A fight broke out. The man was a savage, even managing to bust the abbot's arm.

If a young monk hadn't picked up a rock and bashed the guy's skull, knocking him out cold, who knows what worse could've happened!

Hearing this, Guo Pengxing, the magistrate of Xuan County—who'd been dragged to court at dawn, yawning and annoyed—suddenly sat up straight, wide awake.

A bandit?

Bandits were just what he needed!

In Dayu, armed robbery with forced entry was a top-tier capital offense. Even if they got nothing, it was a hundred lashes and exile three thousand li—let alone theft, arson, and attempted murder.

Forget killing—just hurting someone was a hanging offense!

Since bandits were almost always sentenced to death, for many local officials, catching one meant they could pin every unsolved case in the county on him.

Too many lice, no itch; too many debts, no worry.

Magistrate Guo was thrilled, but he hid his glee and put on a kind face. He politely called for a doctor to treat the injured, pale-faced old abbot Liao Ran, and even made a point of assigning three or four monks to go with him.

The only question left was: what the hell was there to steal in this dirt-poor mountain temple?

All the monks said they had no idea and dutifully handed over the loot found on the "bandit," along with his travel pass, flint, and other personal stuff.

Magistrate Guo didn't pay much mind to the old ledger.

His eyes landed on the big cloak.

It was worn, but it was top-grade black fox fur, not a single white hair in it, and in great shape.

With quality like that, it'd fetch at least a hundred taels of silver.

No wonder the guy had been tempted by greed and taken the risk.

But Magistrate Guo wasn't stupid.

He pinched a corner of the fox fur and spoke to the monks kneeling in a row in front of him: "Buddhism teaches compassion, forbids killing, forbids greed. So how does an expensive fox fur end up in the abbot's room? And if you had valuables in the room, how could you just let an outsider stay there? Don't you know the saying, 'Don't show off your wealth'? This goes against both Buddhist rules and plain common sense. What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Hit with Magistrate Guo's rapid-fire questions, the monks down below traded confused looks.

What fox fur?

That gentleman back then had just casually taken off the coat and used it to wrap up the ledger.

He'd been so casual about it that nobody would've guessed the thing was worth anything.

Still, no matter how confused they were, all they had to do was tell the truth.

The older monk, shaking with nerves, bowed low: "Your Honor, this was left by the previous abbot before he passed. You say it's fox fur… we had no clue."

"Also, that benefactor… no, that bandit… said his father had once been taught by the previous abbot and had come to our temple to repay a vow. Seeing it was getting dark, we worried he'd get attacked by wild animals in the mountains, so we let him stay. Our San Gui Temple is shabby and poor, and afraid we couldn't host him properly, the abbot gave up his own room so the man could sleep well. Who'd have thought we were letting in a wolf?"

Magistrate Guo couldn't find a hole in that story, so he turned to the ledger.

The book was ancient, the pages brittle, with a few appraisal slips for paintings and calligraphy tucked inside.

Magistrate Guo was just over forty, and since officials were posted away from their hometowns, he'd only vaguely heard of the fake treasure case in Huangzhou Prefecture. So he never linked this case to that old, closed matter.

In his mind, the fox fur and the ledger were just personal stuff the previous abbot had owned before becoming a monk.

What the bandit had really been after was just that old fox pelt.

So, at a subtle nod from Magistrate Guo, the clerk dipped his brush and logged the evidence: one black fox fur coat, one ledger.

To be safe, after sending that group of monks to rest, Magistrate Guo called back the ones who'd gone with the abbot to the doctor and asked them the same questions.

The answers matched to a T.

The witnesses' stories didn't contradict each other, and in Magistrate Guo's eyes, the case was now seventy percent solid.

Seeing the "bandit" was bleeding from the head and out cold, Magistrate Guo ordered the court adjourned for the day, to be reconvened later.

Back in his office, he gleefully rounded up the county clerks to figure out which big unsolved cases in the county and prefecture could be pinned on this guy—every last one of them.

Even if he refused to confess, no problem. There were plenty of ways to make him sign.

Magistrate Guo's annual evaluation this year depended entirely on this gift-wrapped idiot who'd walked right into their laps!

Still, to be on the safe side, he ran a background check using the identity and travel permit found on the "bandit."

If the guy had a family and a home, it'd be a real hassle to frame him, and he'd have to think it through.

After a few days of digging, great news came in—

The identity and travel permit were forged!

Forging official documents was a capital offense punishable by death by dismemberment!

When he heard this, Magistrate Guo was so happy he ate an extra half bowl of rice.

When Han Meng came to and found himself in a county jail crawling with bedbugs, he felt like he'd stumbled into a nightmare.

But before he could even cry out in protest, the jailer laid into him with a staff, sending him crawling around, yelping in pain.

Once he was beaten senseless, they shoved a confession in front of him.

It listed all kinds of crimes, big and small—from swiping a pair of shoes or some cured meat from some household, to killing a family of three farmers on the outskirts. The list went on and on.

The jailer sneered and set a brush and a box of ink paste in front of him: "You know how to write your name? If not, just draw a circle and slap your thumbprint here. Easy, right!"

Hearing this, Han Meng's eyes nearly bulged out of his head in rage.

He'd done this exact thing so many times he'd lost count!

Once he signed, it was all over!

He screamed at the top of his lungs: "I'm—"

The jailer's face hardened, and he smashed his staff across Han Meng's mouth, knocking out three or four teeth.

As Han Meng spat blood and hunched over in agony, it suddenly hit him why they were doing this.

This magistrate had already decided to pin these crimes on him.

They didn't give a damn about his name or his story.

Beat him into submission! Beat the fight out of him!

Beat him so bad that even if an imperial envoy showed up to question him, he wouldn't dare complain!

This was exactly the kind of dirty work he'd done for Lord Zhang back in the day!

Every blow, every lash that landed on Han Meng hurt so vividly, as if across time and space, through countless broken bodies, they now landed square on his own!

When his tongue, stiff with pain, finally loosened up, Han Meng's spine was completely broken. He grabbed his head and sobbed: "I confess! I confess!"

Others might not get how bad this was, but he sure did!

The jailer's orders were to get his mark, dead or alive.

He could genuinely beat him to death and then drag his hand to make the mark!

As long as he was alive, there was still a sliver of hope.

When Lord Zhang sent him, he'd thought it over carefully, debating whether to send two men.

It was precisely because he worried that too many people involved would draw attention that he'd sent just one man to scope things out.

If he didn't come back soon, the lord would definitely send someone else.

Then, with someone to vouch for him, he might still have a way out!

But beaten half to death, he completely forgot the capital was slammed with work over the imperial exams.

As Minister of the Imperial Ancestral Temple, Zhang Yue had to oversee the ceremonies honoring Confucius and the God of Literature, set up the spirit tablets and incense tables in the exam halls, and rehearse the ritual music—he was swamped.

Meanwhile, Magistrate Guo was so eager to get results that he pushed the case through as fast as possible.

Better sooner than later.

With the capital busy with exams, if he could get the Ministry of Justice to wrap this up fast, he might even score a promotion!

To make it happen, Magistrate Guo went all out, bribing the clerks at the prefectural office to make sure the case files sailed through to the Provincial Surveillance Commission under Huangzhou, and then on to the Ministry of Justice in the capital.

By early March, the case file landed on the desk of Vice Minister of Justice Yu Xiuqun.

As he read the file, Vice Minister Yu caught a faint whiff of something off.

According to the file, the criminal stopped at a small mountain temple for the night, got tempted by the valuables he saw, tried to torch the place and silence the witnesses but failed, got caught by the monks, and was handed over to the county office, where he confessed to his past crimes.

The case seemed pretty cut-and-dried.

It wasn't unusual for catching one crook to drag up a bunch of old cases.

What bugged Vice Minister Yu more was the ledger wrapped in that fox-fur cloak.

Didn't the guy want the cloak?

If he was after money, why the hell would he run off with that beat-up ledger too?

Aside from that one tiny doubt, the file was otherwise meticulously put together, with no other holes to poke.

Vice Minister Yu wasn't sure if such a minor suspicion was enough to send the case back for retrial.

During the exam period, the Ministry of Justice was just as slammed; just preventing cheating ate up nearly all their manpower.

So, after work let out at dusk, Vice Minister Yu grabbed a jar of good tea and went to see his buddy Zhang Yuanye, the Chief Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, to talk the case over.

After hearing Yu out, Zhang Yuanye took a sip of tea: "Your suspicion makes sense."

Yu Xiuqun sighed: "Ah, I'll ask the Minister tomorrow."

Zhang Yuanye set his cup down: "Even if this case came to the Court of Judicial Review, I'd kick it back. You might as well check that ledger tomorrow to see if anything's off, then go talk to Minister Xu."

As he talked, staring at the clear tea, Zhang Yuanye suddenly laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"From what you said, one of the evidence items in this case is a black fox fur cloak?"

"Yeah. Something wrong with that?"

"That lord... yeah, that one—he had a black fox cloak like that years ago. He loved that thing and wore it every winter. Zheng Sanshui said he was a thousand-year-old fox spirit, and the lord gave him a beating for it. Maybe he didn't like Sanshui bringing it up, so he stopped wearing it after that."

A trace of nostalgia crossed Zhang Yuanye's face: "Ah, it's been so many years since then..."

...

Meanwhile, in the Tongzhou prefectural office.

The osmanthus tree in the rear courtyard doesn't bloom in spring, so to pretty the place up, Le Wuya brought out the string of bells Zhi Jie had given him at Nanting and hung them on the tree to welcome the season.

He also got everyone in the office to hang cloth strips inscribed with blessing phrases under each bell, wishing for peace and good fortune for Tongzhou.

Zhong Piaoping stood directly before Le Wuya, spelling out his thoughts one by one.

Ever since discussing the old case with Le Wuya and Yuan Zijin, Zhong Piaoping couldn't stop mulling it over.

As they say, where there's a will, there's a way, and sure enough, he dug up something.

After all, the Huangzhou counterfeit treasure case had made quite a name for itself back in the day.

He'd chewed on it for a long time, finally piecing together some threads.

If the lord didn't send his trusted men to investigate, nor contact his connections in the capital, then the spot where he stashed the ledger has to be watched by someone tied to the Huangzhou counterfeit treasure case!

Even if that person wasn't a victim of the case, they've got to be someone with deep ties to the victims.

If Zhang Yue or Zhang Kai sent someone to check it out, the guardian could seize the opportunity to stir up trouble, create a scene, and have a legit excuse to detain the intruder, reporting it to the authorities to blow the whole thing up.

But some things just didn't add up for Zhong Piaoping.

"The place where the ledger is hidden must be a remote area," he said to Le Wuya. "If someone went there and took only the ledger, that'd be a dead giveaway. But what if the local officials followed the trail of the ledger, figured out how big a deal it was, and then swept it under the rug?"

"That place indeed has nothing of value," Le Wuya said, cracking melon seeds with Er Ya, both of them going at it with gusto. "So... somebody left something valuable sitting there."

Zhong Piaoping blinked. So that was the angle.

He pressed, "But after all these years, the guy watching the ledger might've died or moved on—too many variables. How can you be so sure?"

Le Wuya shot back, "How do you know I'm so sure?"

That one threw Zhong Piaoping for a loop.

Le Wuya smiled. "That case is ancient history; it's a dead case, plain and simple. Finding life in death—how easy do you think that is?"

And there were way more variables than just one or two.

When Le Wuya had told Liao Ran back then, he'd made it clear that getting justice would be an uphill fight.

He had done his best to tell them what to do—how to make a big stink to get the public's attention, how to stage the scene after the fire to look like a hasty escape without even having time to get dressed, how to fake injuries that were bad enough to back up the robbery charge but wouldn't leave lasting damage...

But the variables were still endless.

Liao Ran might leave, might die, or might change his mind over time, not wanting to stir up trouble and just let someone walk off with the ledger.

Someone greedy might spot the fox fur cloak for what it was, swipe it, and sell it.

The ledger might be lost or damaged.

The monks at Sangui Temple might not all tell the same lie and slip up on the stand.

The magistrate of Xuan County might be a timid official who actually listens to what prisoners say; if Zhang's men revealed their identity, he might get cold feet and bury the whole thing, acting like it never happened.

...

Beyond all that, success required perfect timing.

Up until Le Wuya's death in his previous life, such a moment had never come.

He had carried that secret to his grave.

Yet fate was such that he was reborn by sheer chance, giving that secret a chance to see the light of day again.

Le Wuya gathered the melon seed shells on the table. "Even in the worst-case scenario, if the Zhang family really takes the ledger away, at least we'll have done them a solid, keeping the uncle and nephew in check, and dragging Luan Yuqiao down first so he can't mess with me."

"As for the rest, leave it to heaven and human hearts."

If heaven wills it...

If human hearts remain unchanged...

If justice still exists, then let this be an answer to the sixty-one lives lost.

Author's note:

The bullet fired decades ago has finally found its mark.