Chapter 10.2

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The man, too terrified to comply, kept running desperately, with the constables hot on his heels.

Fan Changyu initially assumed he must have committed some crime, but a passerby clicked his tongue in disapproval. “They say new officials bring a fierce ‘three fires.’ That newly appointed military governor in Huizhou—true to the Wei family’s reputation—claims to be targeting bandits but sends no troops to deal with the real mountain brigands. Instead, he’s turning his wrath on refugees fleeing from the north, as if these poor, displaced people have done something wrong…”

So, it turned out the constables were chasing a refugee. Remembering Captain Wang’s words, Fan Changyu felt an uncomfortable pang.

She glanced at the man who’d spoken. He and his companions all wore identical long robes, the same style she’d seen Song Yan wear—the official uniform of the county school scholars. It seemed these men were all students from the local academy.

One of the man’s companions sneered, “The Wei family practically controls the empire, while the royal power fades. The entire Dayin Dynasty has rotted to the core, like decayed wood! Now that the military power in Huizhou is in the hands of the Wei father and son, I wouldn’t be surprised if they changed the dynasty’s name to Wei.”

Although Fan Changyu had never left Qingping County, she knew who they were talking about. The Wei family referred to none other than Prime Minister Wei Yan and his son, Wei Xuan.

Sixteen years ago, when Crown Prince Chengde died leading a campaign in Jinzhou, the old emperor passed away soon after, overcome by grief. In the aftermath, Wei Yan helped the young emperor ascend the throne, maintaining control of the court for over a decade. Today, in the Dayin Dynasty, the common people only knew the name of the prime minister, not the emperor.

His son, Wei Xuan, was even more ruthless, likening himself to a crown prince, with bloodstains from countless loyal ministers and generals on his hands. His reputation was one of unrestrained cruelty.

Ordinary citizens, preoccupied with their daily lives, only knew what the officials allowed to circulate. It was the scholars—those studying for the imperial exams and analyzing current events—who had a better grasp of the hidden truths.

Intrigued, Fan Changyu couldn’t help but listen more closely.

The scholar who had spoken earlier continued, “Without Marquis Wu’an defending the great northwestern pass, who knows how long this land will remain peaceful? Even if Wei Yan harbors ambitions, I doubt he has the nerve to sit on the dragon throne himself!”

The name of Marquis Wu’an, Xie Zheng, was renowned across the dynasty, though his reputation was controversial. His father, General Xie Linshan, had died a hero defending Crown Prince Chengde during the campaign in Jinzhou, standing firm with a heart pierced by arrows, dying upright against the army’s banner. Xie Zheng’s uncle, however, was none other than Wei Yan, the powerful prime minister who had controlled the court for over a decade.

This complicated family background made Xie Zheng a figure of great contention. Raised by his uncle, the prime minister, many court officials viewed him as a staunch member of the Wei faction. Xie Zheng’s methods only added fuel to this perception—his iron-fisted, ruthless approach was said to mirror his uncle’s.

Xie Zheng became infamous at seventeen in the campaign to retake Jinzhou, a victory that still left people trembling. After taking Jinzhou, he reportedly slaughtered the entire city, sparing not even the youngest children. His 800 elite cavalry, their armor stained red with blood, earned the terrifying moniker “Blood-Robed Cavalry.” The mere mention of his name or that of his soldiers sent chills through those who remembered.

The Northern Jue people were particularly terrified of his name; the mere mention of it sent them fleeing. It was Xie Zheng who had reclaimed the twelve Liaodong prefectures, lost to the Northern Jue since the previous dynasty. For his impressive military achievements, he was granted the title of Marquis Wu’an before even reaching the age of twenty.

To uphold peace through martial might—he was the only person in history to be given this title.

With such an unstoppable weapon in his hands, Wei Yan had been able to hold the position of prime minister, overshadow the emperor’s authority, and dominate the court for so many years. Ministers condemned Xie Zheng as a member of the Wei faction, yet they still relied on him to defend the borders. Some even claimed that if Xie Zheng held the frontier, the nation would remain stable; if he set his sights on the court, chaos would ensue.

Hearing the scholar say, “Without Marquis Wu’an guarding the northwestern pass,” Fan Changyu felt a strange pang of unease. Someone nearby voiced the question in her mind: “What happened to the Marquis Wu’an?”

The scholar replied, “Haven’t you heard? After the battle in Chongzhou, Marquis Wu’an’s fate is unknown. But his command in Huizhou has already been handed over to Wei Xuan, so it’s likely he’s fallen.”

The crowd erupted into a buzz of chatter, with many questioning the truth of the scholar’s claim. While people feared Marquis Wu’an for his merciless approach to life and death, they could not deny that he was a pillar of strength in the northwest, defending the Dayin Dynasty.

If that pillar had fallen, who else could uphold the northwest and keep the realm secure?

The scholar, frustrated by the barrage of questions, retorted, “If you think I’m lying, go find out for yourselves! See if the military governor in the northwest hasn’t just been replaced!”

Having overheard all this news of national importance, Fan Changyu walked home with a heavy heart. Chongzhou bordered Jizhou, and if the conflict spread, she didn’t know where she could take her sister to find refuge.

Recalling that Yan Zheng had fled from Chongzhou, she thought it might be worth asking him when she returned—perhaps he knew something about the fate of Marquis Wu’an on the battlefield there.

Chongzhou was just an uprising by a rebellious prince; how could it have brought down the mighty War God of Dayin?

As she turned the corner, nearly reaching the entrance of the alley, she ran into a woman who lived nearby. With a warm smile, she greeted her, “Aunt Tao, off to buy groceries?”

Aunt Tao nodded but seemed hesitant to speak, her expression somewhat strange, as if something was on her mind.

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