Merit Tarnished, Zhang Lingxiao Blocks the Way

The night wind blew through the dilapidated courtyard walls, carrying a chill mixed with the scent of decaying leaves and blood. Ye Qingxuan leaned against the broken wall, his breathing gradually calming. The nausea and confusion from killing were pushed back, deep into his heart.

He looked at the corpse at his feet, a thought becoming clear in his mind.

Report it. I must report it.

This was the only lifeline he could grasp, the only vine that could pull him out of this mire.

But how to report it?

Say I tracked him here and struck him down in a sneak attack? A temporary constable not on the official roster, tracking a notorious bandit at Body Tempering second stage – who would believe that? Say Mottled Fish was already on his last legs, and I just happened to get lucky? The coroner would examine the injuries to his throat, knees, and feet – each one precise and vicious, showing a strength no dying man would possess, nor a common youth could inflict by chance.

Lies, too, require a method. One flaw, and it would invite endless questioning.

His gaze swept over the scattered bricks and rubble in the courtyard, finally settling on a bluestone slab half-buried in the dirt, its edges rough and coarse.

A completely new idea gradually took shape in his mind. A method that was most plausible and best suited to his current identity.

He stood up, no longer hesitating. First, he lightly scuffed over the traces of the most intense fighting in the courtyard with his feet, making the chaotic footprints even more indistinct. Then, he grabbed a handful of dirt and smeared it repeatedly on the chest and knees of his coarse cloth shirt, creating the appearance of having tumbled and struggled.

Having done this, he walked to the bluestone slab, bent down, and exerted force, pulling it out of the ground. The stone weighed twenty to thirty pounds, one side flat, the other uneven and jagged with sharp corners.

He carried the stone to the corpse of Mottled Fish and squatted down.

He looked at the crushed Adam's apple under his knee, the skin still relatively intact, only the bone beneath shattered. He took a breath, raised the stone slab high, and aimed its rough side at the corpse's neck, smashing down hard!

"Pfft!"

A dull thud. Flesh tore, shattered bone and blood mixed together. The mark of the fatal wound was completely obscured by the blow, leaving only a bloody mess.

He lifted the stone slab again, repeating the process on the left knee he had kicked and broken, and the right foot's instep he had crushed. The muffled sounds of bone shattering followed one after another, each one adding to the grimness of the dead silence.

He wasn't desecrating a corpse; he was covering his tracks.

He was masking his exquisite martial arts skills with the crudest, most brutal method, disguising them as a desperate struggle, a lucky victory in a bloody fight.

Finally, he tossed the stone slab aside and kicked the corpse's abdomen and waist several times before stopping.

After finishing, he was covered in sweat, unsure if it was from exertion or tension.

He cast one last look at the messy scene, turned, and without hesitation, climbed over the courtyard wall, his figure quickly disappearing into the depths of the winding alleys in the Southern District.

The night was deep, past the third watch.

On the way to the Fengtian Division, Ye Qingxuan's steps were not fast, but they were steady. Each step seemed to be calculating something in his mind.

Half an hour later, the two imposing stone lions of the Fengtian Division began to take shape in the darkness. The lanterns at the entrance swayed in the night wind, casting two pools of dim yellow light.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

Two guards, leaning against the door and dozing, snapped to attention at the sound of footsteps, their hands on their sabers as they challenged him.

Ye Qingxuan emerged from the shadows, cupped his fists, and said, "Greetings, esteemed brothers. It is I, temporary constable Ye Qingxuan."

The two recognized him by the lantern light as a familiar face from the day and their vigilance lessened slightly. One yawned and asked, "So late, what is it?"

"I have made a significant discovery and need to report it immediately to the duty head constable." Ye Qingxuan deliberately made his voice sound a little rushed, his breathing slightly uneven.

The two exchanged glances. Seeing his disheveled clothes and dirt-smeared face, he truly looked like he had been through something. They were just guards and didn't want to pry, so they waved him on.

"Go in, find someone yourself."

"Thank you."

Ye Qingxuan strode quickly through the gates of the Fengtian Division.

The yamen at night was vastly different from the daytime bustle. In the empty courtyard, only a few ever-burning lamps cast long, thin shadows of the pillars and eaves. It was silent all around, only the sound of the wind could be heard.

He walked directly through the side courtyard towards the area where the head constables worked and held meetings.

As he rounded a moon gate, a figure blocked his path.

The man sat with his legs crossed on a grand official's chair that should have belonged to a head constable, idly playing with a jade pendant, his face full of boredom.

It was Zhang Lingxiao.

He was on duty tonight with his uncle.

Zhang Lingxiao looked up and saw Ye Qingxuan approaching. His brow furrowed first, then the corners of his mouth curled into a dismissive smile.

"Well, well, isn't this the Ye family's... constable." He deliberately drew out the word. "Why are you at the yamen in the middle of the night instead of dreaming in your bed?"

Ye Qingxuan stopped, ignoring his taunt, and cupped his fists. "Young Master Zhang, I have an urgent matter that requires me to report to the head constable in person."

"Head constable?" Zhang Lingxiao acted as if he had heard a joke. He stood up from the chair, stretched lazily, and slowly walked up to Ye Qingxuan, looking him up and down.

"My uncle and the others have already retired. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'll relay it for you later."

He patted Ye Qingxuan's shoulder, his meaning as clear as day: this credit, once you report it, will be mine, Zhang Lingxiao's.

Ye Qingxuan shifted his body slightly, avoiding his hand.

"This matter is of great importance, and I must report it myself."

His voice was not loud, but it carried an unyielding resolve.

The smile on Zhang Lingxiao's face vanished, replaced by a hint of sullenness from being offended. In the Fengtian Division, no temporary constable had ever dared to disrespect him like this.

"Ye Qingxuan, did you not understand what I said?" He took a step forward, almost pressing his face against Ye Qingxuan's. "I said they have retired! If you barge in now and disturb the head constables' peace, can you bear the consequences?"

Ye Qingxuan remained unmoved, merely sidestepping him and preparing to enter.

Seeing this, Zhang Lingxiao's expression turned cold, and he blocked the corridor leading to the back hall.

"Stop!" he shouted sternly. "Have you lost your mind? Take one more step, and don't blame me for apprehending you according to Fengtian Division rules!"

Ye Qingxuan's footsteps finally halted.

He turned around and looked quietly at Zhang Lingxiao.

Moonlight streamed down from the courtyard, casting their shadows on the ground. One defiant, the other serene.

"Young Master Zhang," Ye Qingxuan began, "I found traces of a remnant of the Green Fish Gang, 'Mottled Fish.' Moreover, I have already apprehended the individual."

Zhang Lingxiao's pupils contracted sharply.

"What did you say?"

"I said 'Mottled Fish' is dead. The body is in the abandoned brickyard west of the city," Ye Qingxuan enunciated each word clearly.

Thirty taels of silver!

One merit point!

These two phrases struck Zhang Lingxiao's heart like heavy hammers. The arrogance and gloom on his face were instantly replaced by a look of mixed shock and greed.

He stared intently at Ye Qingxuan, as if appraising a piece of merchandise.

"You?" he scrutinized Ye Qingxuan from head to toe, his tone full of disbelief. "You took down 'Mottled Fish'?"

"It was merely by chance."

"Where is the body?" Zhang Lingxiao pressed, his breathing quickening slightly.

"The abandoned brickyard next to the mass grave west of the city."

Zhang Lingxiao's eyes darted, and a thought immediately surfaced in his mind. He suddenly put on a smile and clapped Ye Qingxuan on the shoulder again, this time with much more warmth.

"Good! Excellent! Qingxuan, you've truly made a great contribution!" he said enthusiastically. "This matter is significant and cannot be delayed. How about this, you wait here for a moment, and I'll go report to my uncle right away!"

As he spoke, he turned to head into the back hall, his steps even more hurried than Ye Qingxuan's had been earlier.

But Ye Qingxuan grabbed his wrist.

His hand, calloused from years of practice, gripped Zhang Lingxiao's soft, tender wrist like an iron clamp.

Zhang Lingxiao cried out in pain and struggled, but couldn't break free. He angrily demanded, "What are you doing!"

"Young Master Zhang," Ye Qingxuan's voice remained calm, "I made the capture. I killed the person. I only ask for justice, to report this matter truthfully to the Chief Constable. I wouldn't dare to claim this merit solely for myself, but the primary credit must be mine."

"You..." Zhang Lingxiao was speechless.

He hadn't expected this young man, who usually appeared weak and easy to bully, to be so resolute now.

"My uncle is inside, how could I possibly snatch your merit?" he retorted defensively, though his voice lacked conviction.

Ye Qingxuan said nothing, merely tightening his grip on Zhang Lingxiao's hand by another three points.

They stood confronting each other in the corridor.

Ye Qingxuan knew that if he retreated even half a step tonight, this immense credit would vanish in an instant, and he might even be suspected of murder and theft of merit.

He could not retreat.

Zhang Lingxiao also knew that if he couldn't swallow this piece of meat that had been delivered to his mouth, his reputation as a young master of the Zhang family would be utterly ruined if word got out.

He also could not yield.

At the end of the corridor, a room door suddenly creaked open.

A slightly hoarse, aged voice emerged from within, carrying a hint of annoyance at being disturbed.

"What is all this clamor outside! Have you no manners!"