Chapter 128
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The night wind swept through the forested wilds. From within the shadowy outlines of the distant mountains came the occasional howl of wolves. Amidst the woods, a rustling sound—shasha shasha—could be heard. The leaf-covered ground bulged slightly in places, the movement spreading closer and closer.
Whoosh—
The mound burst open. Dead leaves and clumps of soil scattered in all directions as Sun Yingxian shot out from the ground. The moment his feet touched earth, two Divine Movement Talismans slapped onto his thighs with a pa pa sound. The fallen leaves swirled up again as his figure hunched low and streaked forward in a blur, darting out from the foot of the mountain.
“Didn’t return to Lu Family Village, then where could he have gone?”
The Daoist, running with supernatural speed, had taken two pouches of dry rations made by Li Jinhua, and now, under the canopy of countless stars, he made his way back through the night. What had happened in the capital, he dared not tell Lu Laoshi or Li Jinhua. He merely claimed to be wandering the land, passing through and dropping in for a visit. While the woman prepared food for him, Sun Yingxian had quietly set up a formation at Lu Liangsheng’s home—anyone bearing the aura of officialdom would enter from the front, only to exit from the back.
“With Old Lu’s temperament, he shouldn’t be seeking death. He’s still got that old toad and the ghost girl with him…”
As stars and moon gradually withdrew from the night sky and a pale light appeared in the east, Sun Yingxian had already reached the official road. He met some traveling merchants along the way and inquired for news. Word had it that the capital had already issued a wanted order and was scouring the land for the demon scholar. Whether they’d catch him or not, Sun Yingxian wasn’t the least bit concerned.
As dawn brightened, in the dim light, the Daoist sat on a roadside rock, tearing at a large white steamed bun, chewing absentmindedly.
“…Curse your ancestors—how the hell is this Daoist supposed to find you all?”
Looking around, the official road linking the capital to the He Valley Prefecture was growing livelier with merchants and travelers. The nearby teahouses had come to life as well. Bamboo steamers were opened, letting out thick clouds of hot steam. Many who had traveled overnight from all directions came here to rest and enjoy a piping hot breakfast.
“…Still haven’t caught the evildoer? Back in the capital, His Majesty flew into a rage and cursed out a good number of officials.”
Travelers and peddlers from all corners of the land gathered together, usually exchanging tales and useful bits of information.
“If not for Minister Min of the Ministry of Personnel stopping him, His Majesty might’ve already sent people to arrest that scholar’s entire family.”
“Though that demon shattered the Golden Luan Hall, for the Son of Heaven himself to go after the scholar’s kin in some backwater village—honestly, that’s making a mountain out of a molehill. Makes him look utterly intolerant.”
“If he were so tolerant, why would the scholar smash the golden hall? Word is, His Majesty insulted the man first. All the scholar did was speak of that business in He Liang Prefecture…”
“There was such a thing?”
Someone slapped the table with a loud bang.
“If it were me, I’d have smashed it too!”
“Speak cautiously—don’t spout nonsense!”
At a neighboring table, a guest waved his hand, while another took a sip of thin porridge and sighed.
“Speaking of it, that scholar, in a fit of rage, smashed the Golden Hall—ended up implicating his esteemed teacher. Have you heard of Sir Shuhua? He’s now been thrown into the imperial prison…”
Sir Shuhua?
Outside the thatched pavilion, Sun Yingxian swallowed a mouthful of his steamed bun, hurriedly stuffed the rest into his bag, and no longer rested. He invoked the Earth-Escape Incantation, and with a shua, he burrowed into the ground. A small mound bulged up and darted swiftly across the open plains, taking a shortcut straight toward the capital.
Other than Lu Liangsheng, the Daoist had always kept his distance from scholars. In his eyes, these Confucian types were either rigid and pedantic, stubborn beyond belief—or overly scheming, chasing profit with petty tricks, weak and frail, lacking any backbone.
But in truth, aside from Old Lu, Wang Shuhua indeed stirred a rare sense of respect in him. And as the one who had once instructed Lu Liangsheng, no matter what, Sun Yingxian had to make a trip.
If there was any chance—he’d pull him out of that prison himself.
By the time he reached Tianzhi, it was already well into the afternoon. Sun Yingxian first paid a visit to Minister Min Changwen’s residence. But the latter was not home—he hadn’t returned since attending morning court.
Changing course, the Daoist headed for the Ministry of Justice’s prison. He had not yet cast a spell to slip inside when he encountered someone just outside.
—Zuo Zhengyang.
“Move aside! Good dogs don’t block the path!”
Sun Yingxian roared, about to invoke a spell to pass through the prison walls. Half his body had already phased through when he was yanked back by the collar and thrown aside.
“Insolence! This is the imperial prison—how dare you break in to rescue someone!”
In the alley beside the Ministry’s prison, Zuo Zhengyang gripped the hilt of his blade with one hand, blocking the furious Daoist with an outstretched arm. His eyes were stern and commanding. After staring at him for a while, his tone softened. “Even Minister Min won’t allow you to act recklessly. He’s already gone to the palace to plead with His Majesty.”
“Plead my ass.” The Daoist shoved his arm away and stepped back.
“If that man were truly magnanimous, he wouldn’t take out his anger on an old man!”
But he was swiftly cut off by Zuo Zhengyang’s rebuke: “You’re wrong this time. While it’s true there’s some venting of anger involved, Lord Shuhua brought this upon himself—he confronted the Emperor directly! That’s why he was thrown into prison!”
He turned slightly, stepping aside to open a path, and waved his hand.
“If you don’t believe me, go in and ask him yourself. See if what I said is false!”
Sun Yingxian was momentarily stunned, then shot a fierce glare at Zuo Zhengyang—and at the brand-new Ministry of Justice chief constable robe he wore.
“This Daoist will ask for himself.”
They walked straight out of the alley and, together with Zuo Zhengyang, entered the Ministry of Justice’s prison. After passing through a narrow corridor, the space grew dim. The air reeked of dampness and mildew. All around were the sounds of wailing and cries of injustice. The jailer leading the way barked harshly from time to time, banging the wooden bars with his stick.
“Shut it! Who’s wailing about injustice—Father’ll give you a lashing or two!”
Zuo Zhengyang walked along one side. Having come from a constable background, he was long accustomed to life and death; the cries within the prison stirred little emotion in him. Only the elderly man they had come to see—an old acquaintance—prompted him to speak during their walk.
“Lord Shuhua’s temperament is far too fierce, and his reputation too great. His Majesty hadn’t dared vent his anger on him before… But some time ago, Lord Shuhua went alone to the Xuan Yang Gate, and beat the Summons Drum. Even Minister Min didn’t know about it. Later on, who knows how he offended the Emperor—he was thrown into prison after that. Let’s hope Lu Liangsheng never finds out. That’d be a real mess.”
The Daoist gave only a cold snort after hearing that.
“This is the place.”
The jailer took out a brass key and removed the chains. Zuo Zhengyang remained outside, letting the Daoist enter on his own.
“You’re at least an old acquaintance of Lord Shuhua. Try to talk some sense into him.”
Only then did Sun Yingxian give him a brief nod. He stepped inside. Through the small window high up in the cell, sunlight streamed in. Dust motes danced in the golden beams.
The old man sat cross-legged in a shadowed corner. He wore a grimy prison robe; his hair, tied in a loose, graying topknot, was disheveled and pale, half covering his face. His body bore no visible wounds—clearly, Zuo Zhengyang had taken care to protect him.
In the corner, Wang Shuhua seemed to hear the approaching footsteps. He lifted his face slightly. Upon seeing Sun Yingxian walk into the beam of light, a smile touched his lips.
“Little Daoist, it’s been a long time.”
Once always grinning and flippant, with an air of irreverence, the Daoist now squatted silently across from the old man. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he spoke:
“Lord Shuhua, this Daoist has come to take you away.”
