Longxing County, outside the city at Grass Market.
Compared with before, Grass Market looked far more desolate. The effects of the autumn tax were becoming clear, and more and more people could no longer afford to do business.
How had life come to this?
Inside the city, however, it was the exact opposite. The streets rang with voices as people came out to watch the main road curiously.
The road ran straight through the county seat to the county office. Dozens of constables stood along it, clearing the way and driving people back. But the greater the commotion, the more curious the townspeople grew. Only when a prison cart rolled slowly out of the county office did they understand what was happening.
"So it's a street parade."
"Strange. There hasn't been any major crime in town lately, has there? Where did this prisoner come from, to warrant a prison cart and a parade?"
The crowd buzzed with speculation.
Before long, someone recognized the disheveled prisoner inside the cart. "He looks familiar. Isn't that Lord Liu from Vermilion Phoenix Tower?"
At those words, the noisy crowd fell abruptly silent. After a moment, someone cautiously whispered, "Vermilion Phoenix Tower... You mean Lord Liu Ye? I heard he and some hero were behind that upheaval a few months ago. A lot of constables died."
The crowd kept growing.
Naturally, they recognized Liu Ye. He was a local, a veteran of the county office, and the owner behind Vermilion Phoenix Tower.
The place erupted in uproar.
Someone who knew nothing about it asked around. "Why was Lord Liu arrested? Even if he committed a crime, surely he doesn't deserve to be paraded through the streets in a prison cart?"
"You haven't been in town lately, have you?"
Someone lowered his voice. "Haven't you noticed that more than half those damned black-clad constables at the county office are gone? They died in that upheaval a few months back."
"I was in the shop next door. Saw it with my own eyes. The bloodshed was something else—bodies were flying everywhere. They say a wandering hero did it. He heard about the autumn tax, saw injustice, and drew his blade to help. Even the magistrate was badly wounded."
"The autumn tax?"
The man asking looked baffled. "What's that got to do with us? They're only squeezing the Blackheads outside the city. Those mud-legged peasants hardly count as people."
"True enough."
"But thanks to that hero killing so many constables, the county office had to recruit decent folk like us. My cousin became a constable just two days ago."
"If that hero hadn't stirred things up, how would we have made our fortunes?"
"I see!"
The man finally understood. "Then he really was a hero. He might not have known black from white, but he did a good deed in the end."
Inside the prison cart, Liu Ye slowly raised his head.
"..."
Days without food or water had left him in terrible shape. If not for his foundation in External Arts Perfection, he would have died long ago.
The pain left by torture still wracked his body, yet his heart was unexpectedly calm. He felt only a little regret.
"What a shame. Little Wang's kindness went to waste."
He had only himself to blame for his fate. Instead of fleeing far away, he had clung to his hometown and chosen to take a post in Changle Commandery.
Looking back, he had still been angry then. Magistrate Xu Bingzheng had used sinister arts to control his subordinates; Xu had done wrong first. Liu Ye had returned to Changle Commandery partly to report him to the commandery office and seek justice. But he had been far too naive.
"Officials shielding officials. Always officials shielding officials..."
While the Transcendent who had recommended him for the commandery post, Madam Su's close friend, was still there, nothing had happened. As soon as she left, the commandery office moved against him.
Or rather, the forces behind Xu Bingzheng had.
He was only an old constable who had barely left Longxing County in his life. How could he contend with people who had spent decades scheming against one another in the commandery office?
He had brought this ending on himself.
At the thought, Liu Ye gave a bitter smile, but he also felt a measure of relief. At least he had not dragged anyone else down during his captivity.
Xu Bingzheng had gone to such lengths to bring him back from Changle Commandery because he wanted to know why a Transcendent had suddenly interfered in Longxing County's affairs, even having the Black Armor Battalion stationed outside the county seat—and who was directing it all from behind the scenes.
"But I don't know a thing."
Liu Ye breathed out, the air tasting of blood. This, he thought, was the one thing he had done right: he had deliberately kept himself in the dark.
The Transcendent's identity and origins? He did not know.
Why the Transcendent had intervened? He did not know.
Who was behind it all? He did not know.
Because he did not know, no amount of torture could wring a word from him. If he had known, he might well have told them everything.
Thank goodness he knew nothing.
The prison cart rolled on. Escorted by the county constables, it finally reached Grass Market outside the city, drawing the attention of the Blackheads gathered there.
"Lord Liu... How can it be him?"
"Why wouldn't it be? That Liu the Skinner took tribute from Grass Market for years and preyed on the locals. It's only right he got arrested."
"Oh, spare me. Lord Liu took tribute, but at least he actually did his job. The new man the county office sent after he left is worse, and he doesn't do a thing..."
"Why was he arrested, anyway?"
"I heard from someone who does business in town that it had something to do with the hero who fought his way into the city a few months ago. That hero killed the former chief constable too."
The talk grew louder and more confused.
"The former chief constable? I know him. He came to collect taxes in our village... That damned monster!"
"And Former Village—does anyone remember it?"
"Of course. It was near my home. Everyone there was slaughtered. The smell of blood still hasn't faded, and the earth is red... I say the hero was right to kill him!"
The prison cart drew closer.
At once, onlookers clapped hands over the mouths of the Blackheads who had been shouting in righteous anger. They dragged them away and warned them under their breath:
"Shh! Do you want to die?"
"What hero? He was a White Lotus Sect rebel. The county office posted a notice saying so. Who dares call him a hero? Do you want to lose your stall in Grass Market?"
At last, the prison cart entered Grass Market.
The two county constables guarding it swept cold, imperious gazes over the crowd. Wherever they looked, the Blackheads fell silent without meaning to.
The talk dwindled, and the silence grew louder.
Then the first clever man spoke up. "Come to think of it, calling Lord Liu... Pah, calling that Liu villain and the man from the other day rebels isn't wrong."
At last, voices rose again, but the tide had turned completely:
"Since the autumn tax, what family has had oil to cook with, rice for the pot, or salt at home? Life was hard enough. Grass Market was all that kept us going."
"Then that Liu villain threw the county seat into chaos, and business here suffered too."
"I still don't know where tomorrow's rice is coming from."
Of course, a few discordant voices remained amid the growing chorus. "What does any of that have to do with them? In the end, it's that damned autumn tax..."
But as the prison cart approached and the county constables glared at them, those dissenting voices were gradually buried beneath the crowd.
At some point, people began throwing things at the prison cart. A shared fury slowly took hold. They lacked the courage to defy the county constables, but they dared vent their feelings on Liu Ye inside the cart. After all, Liu Ye had been a constable too.
Throwing things at him was just as good.
Soon, only curses rang out. Everyone was delighted at the thought of seeing a constable killed, and they sang praises for it.
The two constables on the cart looked pleased.
Both came from "respectable, well-to-do families" in the city. They had never lacked rice or meat growing up, and had trained diligently in martial arts. That was how they had become constables when the county office began recruiting.
They had a task on this outing, too.
"Quite a few of these Blackheads have been dying lately, and more are gathering toward the county seat. We need to ease the pressure before trouble breaks out."
"Brother Lin, will you do it?"
The constable who spoke smiled. "I heard you volunteered to the magistrate for this job of pacifying the Blackheads. I imagine you've been preparing for it."
"You jest, Brother Liu."
Lin Wenhai shook his head. "I wouldn't call it preparation. First, we parade the prison cart through the streets and let these Blackheads vent the feelings they've bottled up for so long."
"Then we hand out food as disaster relief."
"Oh? Food?" Liu Fuguan looked surprised. "You're going to feed these Blackheads?"
"Of course not."
Lin Wenhai shook his head. "Food is for people. Feeding it to these Blackheads would be a shameful waste. A little bran will do."
A while later, as the prison cart neared the far end of Grass Market, Lin Wenhai ended their chat. He strode before the crowd, circulated his blood and qi, and announced the "disaster relief." Just as he expected, cheers from the Blackheads rang across Grass Market.
"Good. The matter's settled."
Lin Wenhai nodded. After all this, he knew the Blackheads' hearts would settle, and the situation in the county seat would stabilize.
Of course, these Blackheads would still die in the end.
The only difference was whether they all died at once or died off in batches, day by day. From his point of view, the latter was far less trouble.
The former might cause a disturbance. The latter would be much smoother.
He had solved the problem with nothing more than bran meant for livestock. The magistrate would surely think more highly of him when he returned to claim credit.
"Oh, right. With these Blackheads struck by disaster, more and more will gather outside the city. The human stakes my family uses for martial training have nearly run out, and practice doesn't feel right without them. You can't build a warrior's killer instinct. I might as well send someone out to buy a few sturdy ones. Call it charity."
Lost in thought, Lin Wenhai let his attention wander.
Only a sudden chill at his neck brought him back. He looked up and saw that, at some point, dark clouds had covered the sky.
It looked like rain.
Lin Wenhai suddenly felt cold. The people around him seemed to feel it too, and for the second time, the once-roaring crowd fell silent.
The prison cart kept moving.
Until now, the crowd had parted wherever it went. This time, however, a figure moved against the flow of people and stood in front of it.
"Who are you?"
Lin Wenhai frowned and instinctively put a hand on his sword hilt. He looked at the handsome young man who had stepped out of the crowd, but did not immediately call for violence.
The reason was simple. Though dressed in ordinary clothes, the man had a commanding bearing and a tall, powerfully built frame. He had certainly trained in martial arts, and there was no hunger in his face. Clearly he was no Blackhead. He was probably a wandering martial artist passing through, skilled enough that there was no reason to make an enemy of him over a condemned prisoner.
Better to ask his name and background first.
With that in mind, Lin Wenhai spoke again, cupping his hands. "Young hero, may I ask which school you belong to? We're carrying out official duties..."
Lin Wenhai thought his words perfectly reasonable.
To his displeasure, the young man gave no answer. Instead, he looked past him at Liu Ye in the prison cart.
Liu Ye froze too. Then his whole body trembled with emotion. The young man before him was so familiar he seemed to have stepped straight out of his memories. For a moment, Liu Ye thought his life was flashing before his eyes. Only after blinking several times did he believe the sight was real.
The next instant, he shook his head frantically, his hoarse voice thick with blood.
"Go! Get out of here!"
He did not know how the young man had survived that certain death, but now that he had, how could he throw his life away again?
Yet the moment he shouted, Liu Ye regretted it.
He wanted to change his words, to tell the young man to rescue him so they could flee together. But reason told him they could never get far with him as a burden.
They would only die together.
Better that he die alone.
After all, he had brought this on himself. The young man had already saved him once.
Liu Ye gritted his teeth, lowered his head, and avoided the young man's eyes. He dared not look again for fear his resolve would waver.
"Drip. Drip."
At some point, a fine mist of rain had begun to fall.
Raindrops struck the ground, making the chill in the air cut deeper. Then, at last, the young man spoke for the first time since stepping out of the crowd:
"Don't worry, Old Liu. You don't need to hide."
Those simple words made Liu Ye look up in bewilderment. It was as though he had returned to a rain-soaked night several months before, one he remembered all too well.
That night, he had been hunting a White Lotus Sect outlaw when he learned the young man had been caught in the fighting. He had thought him certain to die. Yet when Liu Ye reached the scene, all he found was the outlaw's body split in two and the young man standing in the curtain of rain, smiling faintly at him.
He had said the same thing then.
What had he said next?
At that moment, memory and reality overlapped. Liu Ye's eyes widened, but all he could see was the frosty white gleam reflected from a blade.
"It's raining hard tonight. Perfect weather to wash my blade."