Chapter 144: Killing a Man? Killing a Dog!

“Many thanks to you, sir, for your understanding. This way, I can give an account to His Highness the Crown Prince.”

“This [Ode of the Great Roc] is a piece that His Majesty cherished deeply in his youth. His Highness, with his benevolence and filial heart, sought it out many times. Upon learning that the essay was in your possession, he sent me here to trouble you.”

The young man clad in black robes was exceedingly courteous and well-mannered.

His words carried warmth and ease.

One could not tell that his hands were covered in blood.

Seated across from him, the white-haired elder bore a scholarly grace despite his age. He replied: “Commander Zhou is too polite.”

“His Majesty is benevolent and virtuous, and the Crown Prince is both kind and filial. It is the blessing of the realm, and the fortune of the common folk.”

“Like the Great Roc, soaring upon the whirlwind to the heavens.”

“This [Ode of the Great Roc] ought to be presented to His Majesty and His Highness. How could I have the heart to accept these gold and silver treasures?”

As he spoke, he motioned for his disciples to return the offerings to the carriage. But the commander gently raised his hand to stop them, smiling faintly: “That won’t do. To take it without offering a price—is that not robbery? If His Highness were to hear of it, he’d break my legs for sure. Please, sir, do accept it.”

“With the end of the year approaching, the Crown Prince is quite eager.”

“I won’t stay to disturb you further.”

With a final smile and a cupped-fist salute, the youth tapped the ground lightly with the tip of his foot and floated gracefully into the carriage.

Drawn by spirit beasts, the opulent carriage finally departed. Only after the procession had vanished from sight did the retired third-rank court official—who had withdrawn from court affairs for many years—let out a quiet breath. Beside him, a young disciple of the household could not help but remark: “That lord has such an overwhelming presence. When he glanced at me just now, I couldn’t move at all.”

The elder sighed. “He is the Left Commander of the Crown Prince’s Hidden Dragon Guard. Though officially a fifth-rank martial officer now…”

“Such a rank isn’t especially high in the capital.”

“Yet even third-rank generals would treat him with no small measure of respect in this city.”

A younger man nearby said: “The Hidden Dragon Guard… I hadn’t imagined they would be so courteous and refined.”

“Courteous and refined?” The elder said no more.

He only added, “To us, of course, they are courteous and refined.”

The young man looked puzzled.

The elder did not continue his explanation.

From what he knew, this Left Commander had risen from the lowliest of origins. In his youth, he’d survived by eating meals from a hundred different households. After the death of his parents, the village folk had been willing to help him find a way to live. It was he himself who had refused to spend a lifetime digging in the earth for food and had instead taken the initiative to enter the palace in search of a path.

By reason, such a background should have instilled deep sympathy for the common people.

Yet after his rise to power, he grew ever more deferential to those above, never daring to show the slightest discourtesy; while toward the common folk, he became all the more arbitrary—quick to strike or scold, his face often twisted in aversion.

A friend had once sighed to the elder and said:

“He harbors deep resentment toward his humble birth. Having once seen the splendor and extravagance of high places, he became ashamed of his past. When he sees the common folk, he sees the shadow of what he once was—and the flaws he now tries to conceal.”

“Twisted grief and rage—thus comes humiliation turned to hatred.”

“It is such a man who is truly a petty villain.”

“We must remember: treat him with respect, but keep your distance. Do not provoke him in the slightest—he will remember it forever.”

Yet that very friend who had once spoken those words to the elder was swept up in a major case just half a month later. In the end, his household was ransacked, and he perished.

There might have been a chance for leniency, but the one handling the case had been none other than Commander Zhou of the Hidden Dragon Guard. It was said that the judgment had been unusually severe.

The elder narrowed his eyes.

Back then, it had been he who reported his good friend’s case.

Only then had he managed to save his own skin.

And just now, it suddenly came back to him—when that Commander Zhou first entered the palace all those years ago, his name had been Zhou Dacai.

Later, after following the Crown Prince in studying the classics and learning to read, he cast away his own name—cast away his ancestral surname.

He took a new name: Nuchang (lit. Joyful Slave).

The title of Commander Zhou was merely how outsiders referred to him—because they dared not call him by his real name: [Nuchang].

Even in servitude, he found joy. What is this…

Upon the wide avenue, the carriage rolled forward.

Within, the young man in ornate robes unfurled the [Ode of the Great Roc], then replaced it with a newly prepared scroll. Upon seeing the carefree strokes and faint traces of righteous qi between the lines, he gave a small nod. “This is indeed the genuine article… With this matter resolved, His Highness the Crown Prince can finally be at ease.”

In recent days, the Crown Prince’s temperament had become exceedingly restless and anxious.

The Young Prince, meanwhile, remained in a deep, unending sleep.

The young man could vaguely sense that it all stemmed from a prior incident.

The Crown Prince now wished to offer up the [Ode of the Great Roc] to flatter the Sage Emperor.

To secure his own position and title.

This much, the youth understood well—he belonged to the Crown Prince’s retinue. Naturally, he had to give it his all.

The original scroll of the Ode of the Great Roc was carefully switched out and put away. A rider galloping alongside the carriage leaned over and said: “Commander, shall we pay that old gentleman another visit? Perhaps we can politely ask him to return the gold we gave him?”

Before the words had even settled, the effeminate youth beside him lashed out with the scroll he had just withdrawn. It struck the rider square across the forehead. His vision blurred instantly, and he nearly fell from his horse. He instinctively raised a hand to clutch his head, blood already streaming from between his fingers, but he dared not utter a single word of complaint. He simply bowed his head in silence, blood dripping freely to the ground below.

The young man said indifferently: “To take an item, one must offer payment. This is the natural order of things—Heaven’s unshakable law.”

“And this, no less, is a treasure.”

“Did you take him for some base-born peasant?”

“Something to be handled however we please?”

“Yes, yes…”

The effeminate young man spoke indifferently: “These people still have their uses. His Highness the Crown Prince will need their reputation in the future. Right now, the Fourth Prince has close ties with the aristocratic families and bears a name of literary refinement; the Seventh Prince, on the other hand, enjoys close relations with the second generation of the military clans. For the Crown Prince to truly suppress these two, he must win over these reclusive scholars and famed men of the world.”

“On ordinary days, killing off some lowly commoners is one thing — people who grovel in the dirt, no better than swine or dogs.”

“Even if they die, no sound will be raised for them.”

“But to lay hands on these people…”

“Is that meant to cause trouble for His Highness?”

The expressions of several valiant riders subtly shifted. The effeminate youth continued in a calm voice: “Since you serve under His Highness, you must understand how to lessen his burdens — know whom you may touch, and whom you must not. Know when those you mustn’t touch may, in fact, be touched.”

“Outsiders often say we are dogs.”

“But to be a dog — that, too, is a profound art.”

“To be the dog of the Celestial Empire’s nobility is still far better than being a commoner who scrapes at the dirt for food.”

Everyone responded affirmatively. Someone else burst out laughing and said: “They want to be dogs? Hah! They’re not even qualified.”

He raised his warblade and knocked it against his warhorse’s tack, laughing loudly as he chanted:

“To be a man — one must rise at the third watch, sleep at the fifth,

Through winter and summer, toil without rest.

Generation after generation, never rising above the crowd.

Never rising!”

“But to be a dog — one may wear brocade, don silk,

Sleep past sunrise without fear.

Every day and night, a bridegroom anew.”

“Who would choose to be a man?”

“Better to be a dog!”

“Better to be a dog!”

Laughter erupted from all around. These men were the Crown Prince’s personal guards — the future imperial bodyguards of the Son of Heaven himself. They called themselves dogs, but in truth, they were mocking the ignorance of the common folk. Even the most illustrious of noble clans feared them somewhat. Take this most recent outing, for instance — sent to deal with the remnants of the Sage’s old affairs. Among the surviving soldiers in Jinzhou, there had been an old veteran whose daughter was exceedingly beautiful.

And possessed a steely spirit. Many had longed to defile her. The old soldier, in a fury, donned his battle robes once more and unsheathed his ancient Xuan Sword.

His presence was formidable.

It gave them quite the shock.

But after all, that old soldier had once fought a valiant battle. To defend a small village, he’d stood alone against the siege of dozens of demon clans. His heavy armor was torn apart in that slaughter; his body aged and broken, his bones already invaded by demonic qi. He had become nothing more than a silver-plated wax spear — pretty to look at, but useless in truth. Heh. A few moves were all it took to shatter his leg bones, to pierce through his joints — yet the man still did not die.

Only then could they slowly, thoroughly amuse themselves with his beautiful daughter in front of him.

A pity that the girl was indeed strong-willed. She chose to bite through her tongue and end her own life, robbing them of any true pleasure.

Still, there was one of the rougher sort, unrefined and unbothered by such things, who took her while her body was still warm.

The old veteran saw it all — his grief and rage tore through the heavens. He cried out, demanding justice, and drew his blade for a final stand. But in the end, he was skewered to death.

Useless old fool.

Justice? Justice lies with us.

That so-called Xuan Sword, forged of Cold Iron? It had long since rusted, ah, hahahahaha—

Amidst the uproar of wild laughter and crass jesting behind him, the effeminate youth lowered his gaze. He knew well what sort of men served beneath his banner. Every single one of them was the kind that could die ten thousand deaths and not be mourned — and that was exactly why they were useful. If any of them had even the slightest trace of moral restraint, they would not be fit to serve as the knife in an imperial household’s hand.

To be such a blade, one must be sufficiently filthy, thoroughly tainted. Only then would an emperor entrust them with such tasks.

Only then could they survive.

This entire group had already learned far too many secrets and had dirtied themselves deep enough, so Zhou Nuchang no longer worried. The Crown Prince needed a blade. The Emperor, too, would need a knife to do the work that could not sully his own hands.

As long as that need remained, their lives were secure.

After all, when has there ever been an emperor who committed no dirty deeds?

The only difference is that the Emperor must not dirty his own hands. Which is exactly why they exist.

It was both handy and satisfying to use.

Before the Crown Prince’s downfall, there was no need to fear retribution. But once the tide turned against him, they would become his greatest stain. By then, not only would their enemies seize upon the opportunity to denounce them, but even the Crown Prince himself would be the first to strike them down, eradicating them to the greatest extent possible, all to preserve himself.

Thus, they were like grasshoppers tied to the same rope.

And so, he had to dirty his own hands—make himself an outcast among the nobles and ministers, and shunned by the common folk—becoming a solitary minister with no one to rely upon.

The Emperor had once met Zhou Nuchang.

Afterward, he said to the Crown Prince:

A fine blade indeed.

Not a man, but a blade. A blade need not be good or bad.

When the old soldier’s daughter wailed and cried, he stood outside with his hand resting upon his blade. At times, his mind would drift back to his childhood, to that older girl from next door who used to sneak him meat buns to eat. Later, he heard she had married. He had once slipped out of the palace gates, and on that day, watched her depart in bridal red, her face adorned in wedding makeup. He gave her all the silver he had saved over the past five years, saying it was in exchange for the buns she had once given him.

Even if he was beaten half to death afterward for returning late to the palace, he harbored no regret.

Was this sobbing girl now someone else’s cherished elder sister?

At this thought, a wave of melancholy welled up within him.

And so he walked off to another place, lest the sound of her crying disturb his heart.

The carriage now traveled north for a time, then veered south.

But suddenly, the carriage slowed. Zhou Nuchang frowned slightly and asked: “What is it?”

One of the mounted riders bowed low and replied: “Strange… it just started to rain.”

Zhou Nuchang frowned. “Rain?”

He placed the [Ode to the Great Roc] to one side and carefully covered it with a length of crimson silk from south of the river, before lifting the curtain. As expected, he saw a fine drizzle falling steadily. Looking ahead, the road that had earlier been clear and bright was now shrouded in mist.

For reasons unknown, Zhou Nuchang suddenly felt a tremor of unease in his heart.

And then, the thought struck him—though his subordinates were all men with bloodstained hands and hardened hearts, even they understood: some things must never be spoken aloud. There were matters one could do, but not discuss.

Why then, were they now speaking of past events? Of loose ends left behind in Jinzhou?

They had been influenced!

Was it the Buddhist Divine Insight of Another’s Heart? Or a Daoist art at work?

Zhou Nuchang’s pupils constricted. One hand dropped to the hilt of his blade as he growled, “We’re under attack!”

His heart turned ice-cold in that instant.

The secret had been leaked!

Though practitioners of fortune-cultivation and martial paths did not possess the pure spiritual feedback of orthodox Daoists, nor the six divine abilities of the Buddhist schools, when a killing intent emerged, they too could sense it beforehand—especially those like him, who tread the blood-soaked path. Looked down upon by the orthodox sects they might be, but they were far from ordinary.

Though they were but the Crown Prince’s personal guards, far from comparable to the elite troops of the borderlands,

In that instant, they still exuded a chilling aura of the battlefield. As one, they drew their blades.

The sound of steel rang out—blades howling within their scabbards—emitting bursts of tiger-like roars that sent a shiver through the air. Even the falling rain seemed to pause slightly in the void, then suddenly scattered outward, as though turning to steam. The flow of Human Dao Fate shifted and churned, transforming into the illusory form of a flood dragon that writhed and roared amidst the rain.

The downpour grew heavier,

Enveloping everyone within it.

Not a single soul escaped.

An endless killing intent cloaked the mist-laden rain.

Impossible to dispel.

Murderous intent drew near.