A Word Spoken, the Hall Astonished

Chapter 21: A Single Word Stuns the Hall

The bailiffs held back the curious onlookers and were about to close the doors when Qianshan, quick-witted and agile, squeezed his way inside. He waved off those trying to greet him and flexed his wrists, his knuckles popping with a crisp, sharp sound. He couldn't help but think that he would soon be venting his pent-up frustration on this young scholar.

As the saying goes, when a scholar meets a soldier, reason is hard to come by. These scholars were sharp-tongued, but they were at least satisfying to beat up—certainly more so than a sack of grain. At the thought of the visceral pleasure of fists meeting flesh, Qianshan let out two strange, guttural chuckles.

Zi Bofeng sensed the eerie movement behind him and glanced back, only to see a tall, burly man dressed as a soldier staring him down. Seeing Zi Bofeng look over, the man bared his teeth in a menacing grin, his white teeth gleaming. He flicked the catch on the long saber at his waist, his Baleful Intent chillingly palpable.

Well, what is this situation? A Hongmen Banquet? Surely they won't just execute me the moment I step into the hall?

When he was beating the drum earlier, Zi Bofeng had been riding a wave of adrenaline. Now, he suddenly felt his legs go weak. Did I... did I just do something incredibly reckless?

However, having come this far, there was no turning back.

Zi Bofeng steeled his resolve, his posture becoming even more defiant than before.

A moment after Zi Bofeng entered the main hall, the Prefect, looking slightly weary, emerged from within. He sat in the center seat, rubbed his temples, and asked, "Who is it that beats the drum to seek justice?"

As he looked up, his eyes didn't land on Zi Bofeng first, but on Qianshan. He cast an inquiring look his way, only to see Qianshan slowly shake his head.

Though he had braced himself for this, the Prefect was still deeply disappointed, and his irritation grew. Looking at the young man below, he found him detestable in every way.

"Student Zi Bofeng," Zi Bofeng said, cupping his hands in a salute before the Prefect's stern face, his tone neither servile nor overbearing.

"What grievance do you have? Why did you not submit a petition to state your case?" The channels for scholars and commoners to seek justice were quite different.

"This student intended to request an audience with the Prefect, but your schedule was too full, and I could not wait any longer. Thus, I resorted to this desperate measure. I beg for your forgiveness, My Lord."

"Forgiveness?" The Prefect was in a foul mood and replied impatiently, "Whether you are forgiven depends on whether you are guilty. Speak—what is your grievance, and whom do you accuse?"

Zi Bofeng glanced left and right. Only the Prefect had emerged; the chief clerk and others were absent. On either side stood seven or eight bailiffs. To one side sat a small table where a secretary was scribbling furiously, clearly recording the proceedings. Not far behind him, the fierce soldier was still playing with the catch of his saber, producing a rhythmic click-clack sound. Seeing Zi Bofeng look over, he flashed another vicious expression.

Zi Bofeng steeled his heart and said, "Reporting to the Prefect, this student seeks justice for the three hundred souls of Lower Yan Village. The person I wish to accuse is none other than you, My Lord!"

The moment the words left his lips, the entire hall was stunned!

The bailiffs on both sides stared at one another in disbelief. The secretary's mouth hung open, a drop of ink falling onto his chest, and the annoying click-clack sound ceased entirely.

Everyone was frozen in shock.

"What did he say?" someone muttered in a thick, local dialect, clearly bewildered.

"What?" Even the Prefect thought he had misheard. Was this Zi Bofeng a former actor? How could a story from a play manifest in reality? Thinking his exhaustion had caused auditory hallucinations, he quickly picked at his ear and took a sip of tea to calm his nerves. "Say that again!"

Zi Bofeng repeated himself, his voice ringing out clearly, devoid of any trace of cowardice.

The Prefect was utterly bewildered. Between anger and amusement, he asked, "Why do you accuse me, and of what?"

He waved a hand to signal the restless Qianshan to remain calm and listen to what Zi Bofeng had to say.

"I accuse the Prefect of three crimes: first, appointing incompetent subordinates; second, failing to exercise proper oversight; and third, imposing unreasonable taxes."

The Prefect looked down at Zi Bofeng from his high seat.

This Zi Bofeng did indeed have a reputation for talent, and that brilliant essay of his had been truly magnificent—the Prefect himself had praised it endlessly. But that small shred of goodwill had been washed away by the wood-carving incident. Although the furious Prefect hadn't pursued it further, he knew that the one who had turned his beloved root carving into two chubby dolls was none other than the boy before him.

This brat was truly detestable!

Furthermore, the mention of "taxation" struck a raw nerve. It was truly a case of touching the sore spot!

Seeing the Prefect lift his teacup again, the bailiffs on both sides tightened their grips on their Prestige-Breaking Staves, waiting only for the Prefect to clear his throat before they rushed forward to beat the boy senseless.

Clearly sensing the sudden tension, Zi Bofeng stopped stalling and declared loudly, "The Prefect allowed incompetent fools to oversee taxation, resulting in ledgers riddled with errors—is this not appointing the incompetent? And to use these error-ridden ledgers as a pretext to increase taxes—is this not a failure of oversight? Since the grounds for these taxes are baseless, is my charge of unreasonable taxation not justified?"

"Audacious!" Qianshan roared, moving to seize Zi Bofeng. The Prefect was a man he viewed as a father; how could he allow anyone to insult him so?

Moreover, if others didn't understand the Prefect's difficulties, how could he not? The Prefect was kind-hearted and cared deeply for his people, bearing all the pressure on his own shoulders—he was a rare, virtuous official.

"Wait." Though the Prefect's face was dark enough to drip ink, he raised a hand to stop Qianshan. His eyes remained locked on Zi Bofeng. Having held high office for so long, his official aura pressed down on Zi Bofeng like a surging flood.

In Zi Bofeng's eyes, the Prefect before him seemed to have something akin to spiritual power flowing through him, making the pressure even more immense.

Zi Bofeng took a deep breath and said, "I have evidence. Does the Prefect dare to have the official in charge of taxation confront me?"

He took a ledger from the wooden box he carried: "These are all the accounts for Lower Yan Village over the past fifty-three years. Every stroke is clear, and every year's taxes have been paid in full. Why then must Lower Yan Village pay three more years of taxes? Does the Prefect know that to pay these three years of taxes, the villagers have been forced to scrape the bottom of the barrel, selling their own children? If these taxes are collected, Lower Yan Village will cease to exist!"

This final cry, resonant and firm, silenced everyone in the hall.

If these taxes are collected, Lower Yan Village will cease to exist!

The Prefect's eyes widened, and for a moment, he was speechless. He considered himself an upright official who governed well; his people should be living in peace and prosperity, not struggling to survive. How could collecting back taxes lead to the destruction of a village?

"You lie! You are fear-mongering! You are spouting nonsense! You are being unreasonable! You... you..." Before the Prefect could speak, someone else erupted. Hu Caijun charged out from behind, pointing at Zi Bofeng and hurling insults.

After he finished, Hu Caijun realized he had been far too impulsive and quickly apologized to the Prefect.

Zi Bofeng looked at Hu Caijun with cold eyes: "So, it was you who deceived and incited the Prefect. You say I am spouting nonsense and being unreasonable, but let me ask you: when has Zi Bofeng ever spoken a lie?"

Hu Caijun stammered, unable to utter a single word in response.

The golden reputation of "Zi Bofeng, Who Only Speaks the Truth" was far too famous. The people he had offended could have lined up from the Mengcheng Prefecture office all the way to the city gates, yet not one of them could refute that claim.

Indeed, he did not change his name, nor did he hide his identity; he was the one and only "Zi Bofeng, Who Only Speaks the Truth."

The Prefect clutched his forehead. He had thought he'd brought in a capable assistant, but who knew he was actually a pig-teammate?

"My Lord, this student requests your permission to verify the accounts face-to-face with Hu Caijun. If I am wrong in the slightest, I am willing to accept the punishment for insulting the Prefect and slandering an official! If I am correct, I ask that you grant justice to the three hundred souls of Lower Yan Village."

The Prefect frowned for a moment and said, "Hu Caijun, are you willing?"

Hu Caijun felt a surge of joy; the Prefect remembered his name. He hurriedly replied, "This student is willing!"

He was confident that his attainments in arithmetic far surpassed those of Zi Bofeng, not to mention that every entry he had calculated had been verified by the accounting office. For Zi Bofeng to dare confront him in court was truly seeking his own death.

Before long, several desks were set up in the courtroom. Zi Bofeng and Hu Caijun examined each other's ledgers. The more Hu Caijun read, the more alarmed he became; these entries were clear and precise, not at all like the work of a layman. He was astonished, wondering if Zi Bofeng was actually skilled in arithmetic as well. He would have to be careful.

However, after flipping through for a moment, he found a few suspicious spots and noted them down one by one. He felt secretly pleased, as he had specifically verified these areas and was certain that Zi Bofeng was wrong.

Zi Bofeng looked at the ledgers in his hands with an expressionless face. After both sides finished checking the accounts, they handed them over to two accountants for reconciliation. After a long while, the accounts were verified, and the accountants reported to the Prefect first, "Reporting to My Lord, this humble one has finished the verification. The vast majority of these two ledgers are identical, but there are discrepancies in these few places..."

After speaking, the Prefect had the ledgers brought to him. He checked those specific spots several times, nodded slightly, and looked up, saying, "Zi Bofeng, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Hearing the tone of the accountants, Zi Bofeng felt an immediate sense of relief.

Those few discrepancies were traps he had set himself, while the places where the real tampering had occurred were invisible to laymen. It seemed these fellows could only be considered laymen after all.

With a relaxed demeanor, he said, "Is the Prefect referring to page thirty-six, page one hundred twenty-two, page one hundred fifty-seven..." Zi Bofeng recited them as if counting his own family treasures, then smiled slightly and continued, "These are indeed the erroneous places. Tax collection has always followed market rates. Seven years ago, the winter was exceptionally long and spring arrived late, so the harvest was delayed. That year, taxes were actually collected before the harvest, yet the calculations were based on post-harvest grain prices, hence the error... Five years ago, heavy snow blocked the mountains, causing fur prices to skyrocket, and one-third of the value was undercalculated..."

After this explanation, Hu Caijun shouted indignantly, "You are spouting nonsense!"

"Do you dare to go and verify this with me? The ledgers from the past ten years must still exist at the various merchant firms; we need only check their average prices to know the truth."

"You are talking rubbish! Even if that were the case, the final price wouldn't differ by this much!"

Record of Raising Monsters