HCAW 41

Chapter 41 – Seeking Cracks with a Puff of Dust

Several days later, in the third hall of the Penglai prefecture, the Mohe Guard sat on a rattan chair adorned with floral carvings, eyes closed in thought.

After a long while, he slowly opened his eyes. On the desk before him stood a lacquered sword stand, holding a sword sheathed in black sandalwood wrapped with python skin. The sword pommel was carved with a dragon design. When drawn, the blade gleamed white as snow. This was none other than the former emperor’s sword—Hanguang.

This sword had been seized from Fang Jingyu. At present, Fang Jingyu had been taken into the Inner Prison under the charge of being the son of Emperor Bai. Back when the Mohe Guard saw the mark left on Young Master Tao’s chest by the sword scabbard, he had already suspected something: the Langgan Guard had always treasured this sword bestowed by the former emperor. In the past, when he and the Yu Ji Guard surrounded him, the Langgan Guard had once revealed the sword, but afterward pretended to be mad and foolish, insisting that the sword was no longer in his possession. The Xian Mountain officials had nearly scraped three feet off the ground of the Fang estate but found nothing in the end.

Yet the sword had appeared in Fang Jingyu’s hands—why?

There was no need to say it aloud. It must have been the Langgan Guard who entrusted the sword to Fang Jingyu. However, the Mohe Guard knew well how the Langgan Guard cherished it—he would never hand over a sword bestowed by the former emperor to a child who had severed ties with the Fang family, unless that child had a deep connection with Emperor Bai.

The Mohe Guard understood—this was no coincidence. He could almost be certain: Fang Jingyu was the orphaned son of Emperor Bai.

Thoughts churning, he paced to the birdcage and toyed with the tern inside. Just then, a warden came to report, “Lord Mohe Guard, Fang Jingyu is willing to confess!”

The Mohe Guard’s eyes snapped open, delight flashing across his face. “Good!”

“However, he says he will only submit to the law after seeing you…”

“Take me to him!” The Mohe Guard slapped the desk and stood.

To hear Fang Jingyu’s confession as soon as possible, the Mohe Guard had already spoken to the Yu Yin Guard and lingered in the third hall for several days. In those days, he was anxious and restless, pacing constantly like a griddle cake flipping in a pan.

Now, he followed the prison guards into the Inner Prison. The place was flooded with filth, bloodstains mottled the walls—like a hellscape painted on a temple fresco. Even the dim light filtering through the small window seemed tainted.

Fang Jingyu was chained to the wall with iron shackles. He hadn’t been seen for days. His hair was a tangled mess, bloodstains covered his body—red and black like a patchwork quilt. His face was bruised and purple, but his expression was as hard and cold as iron. The guards had tortured him with the “hanging firewood” method, beating his limbs with batons. It was unknown how many rods had been broken during these days.

Standing outside the cell, the Mohe Guard shouted, “Fang Jingyu, do you admit your crimes?”

Fang Jingyu kept his eyes closed. After a while, he said, “This official acknowledges his guilt.”

The Mohe Guard hadn’t expected him to yield so readily and chuckled. “So you finally understand the situation. Jingyu, your father and I are old friends. I feared you would linger too long here and not survive the winter due to your injuries. Fortunately, you’ve come around quickly. Now tell me—what crime have you committed?”

“In the Laws of Penglai, it is written: ‘Crossbows, spears, banners, insignia, and prohibited books and seals—items forbidden to private possession—are contraband; both parties are guilty and such items shall be confiscated by the state,’” Fang Jingyu replied. “I concealed an imperial sword without reporting it to the Penglai Prefecture. I should indeed be punished and request to be sentenced with confiscation and flogging.”

The Mohe Guard’s smile froze.

This was certainly not the answer he had been waiting for. He wanted Fang Jingyu to admit with his own mouth that he was the “Emperor Bai’s son,” harboring treasonous intentions!

“Nonsense! Was it an ordinary sword you hid? It was the sword of the former emperor!” the Mohe Guard lost control, his face wrinkling like bark as he stepped forward and kicked the iron bars hard, roaring, “Where did this sword come from? Was it given to you by the Langgan Guard?”

Feigning confusion, Fang Jingyu replied, “My father had such a sword? I am poorly educated and truly unaware of its origin. I simply thought the design on the scabbard looked nice—I even thought it was a deer carved on it—so I kept it with me.”

“I asked where the sword came from!”

“Picked it up from a pile of corpses in Milu Village,” Fang Jingyu said. “It was dark at the time. While fighting the leader of the ‘Da Yuan Dao’ sect, my sword accidentally broke, so I grabbed one off the ground. As for what it looked like, I didn’t get a good look.”

Utter nonsense! The Mohe Guard was seething. He already knew the Langgan Guard was far from the dullard he pretended to be, and Fang Jingyu was clearly no fool either. A nearby prison guard raised a baton and struck Fang Jingyu’s arm hard, shouting, “Lies! There’s no way you wouldn’t recognize the imperial emblem on that sword!”

Fang Jingyu grunted, then after a while said, “I’m just a commoner, truly ignorant. And even if I could recognize it, I’d only know the current emperor—how would I know what the former one’s emblem looked like?”

The guards exchanged looks, momentarily speechless. Some were secretly anxious—they’d thought a few days of torture would make this boy confess, so they could get his signed confession and pass judgment quickly. Who would have thought he’d play dumb with such a glib tongue! Then again, considering how famously ugly his handwriting was during his time in Penglai Prefecture, perhaps his claim of limited knowledge wasn’t entirely unbelievable.

“More lies! How could there be an imperial sword in Milu Village?” another guard barked.

“There was the Da Yuan Dao sect leader in Milu Village, and most of the sect members were entrenched there too. Since they already harbored treasonous intent, it’s only natural for them to possess objects of the late emperor,” Fang Jingyu replied, sounding perfectly self-assured.

The Mohe Guard paced in front of the cell, feeling as if he were tangled in a knotted intestine—his mind in chaos.

He had originally planned to charge Fang Jingyu with treason, and then present this great service to Emperor Changyi in exchange for a reward. Therefore, he couldn’t subject Fang Jingyu to tortures that might cost him his life. A conviction of treason would allow for immediate execution, but for lesser charges, the punishment would have to wait until the official execution day a month later, when the National Preceptor held the command banner.

“You are the orphan of Emperor Bai. Do you admit this or not?”

Fang Jingyu said, “This official is merely ignorant and unlearned, and failed to recognize the former emperor’s emblem, which is why I mistakenly kept the sword. How is it that overnight, I’ve become Emperor Bai’s son? I am a son of the Fang family. Though I’ve left home, the Langgan Guard is indeed my birth father.”

“My grandson saw you conspiring with rebels! You harbor traitorous intent!”

“Does your grandson have any physical evidence that I intended rebellion? When and where did he supposedly see me? When his leg was broken, I happened to be training with the Yu Yin Guard on the drill field. Are you implying that the Yu Yin Guard is lying? If there’s no evidence, it’s slander. Unless you call him here and let us confront each other face-to-face.”

At this, Fang Jingyu, rarely, gave a slight smile. The smile was like the full moon in a clear sky—cold, serene, and bright.

“Ah, I forgot. Your esteemed grandson is now beneath the Nine Hells—dead men bear no witness.”

The Mohe Guard trembled all over.

“You… you! The officials of Xian Mountain found Da Yuan Dao texts in your home! You worship wicked sects and conceal rebellious intentions!”

Fang Jingyu said, “Those were confiscated by me in Milu Village. I’ve been gravely ill and recovering from my wounds, so I hadn’t yet submitted them. If you doubt me, there are dozens of Xian Mountain officials who accompanied me to Milu Village who can testify. After returning, I fell unconscious and only recently was able to sit up and regain some strength.”

The Mohe Guard’s shrimp-like eyes bulged with fury.

He felt as if he stood before a stone wall—Fang Jingyu’s defenses were airtight. Though he could still charge him with privately holding an imperial object, the evidence on hand couldn’t prove he was Emperor Bai’s son. And if there wasn’t enough proof, even if he extracted a confession through torture, once he was presented before Emperor Changyi, Fang Jingyu would surely recant in court and bite back at him. If that happened, the error he and the Yu Ji Guard had made years ago in misidentifying the orphan of Emperor Bai would be exposed—and the consequences would not be worth it.

Suddenly, the Mohe Guard felt caught in an impossible position.

He strode quickly out of the Inner Prison, fists clenched tight. Without waiting for a carriage to be prepared, he ordered the Xian Mountain officials to follow and galloped off toward the Fang residence. He had once sent men to investigate the place, but the household staff had been tough to deal with. Though most of them were elderly and missing limbs or eyes, they included old retainers who had fought alongside the Langgan Guard. The officers had been beaten senseless and returned with nothing.

The Mohe Guard thought to himself that the top priority now was to obtain a piece of the Langgan Guard’s bone. A single imperial sword proved nothing. Similarly, the “bone-drip” could only verify that Fang Jingyu was not the Langgan Guard’s son. But if these two pieces of evidence were combined, perhaps Emperor Changyi would believe him—that Fang Jingyu was the orphan of Emperor Bai!

However, before he even reached the Fang residence, a mournful funeral song drifted from afar:

“The dewdrops vanish at dawn, only to fall again—but one who dies, when will they return?”

It was the Xielu¹ ancient Chinese funeral lament or elegy—a dirge traditionally sung at funerals to mourn the dead being sung.

A funeral procession emerged from the gates. The mourners carried silk banners, leading out a snow-white hearse. An old woman smashed a mourning basin in front of the gate.

The Mohe Guard was stunned and immediately dismounted. The accompanying Xian Mountain officials rushed forward, shouting, “What’s going on? Who died in the Fang family?”

An elderly servant in white came out from the procession and, seeing the Mohe Guard, hastily knelt and said, “My lord, the Langgan Guard… Lord Fang Huaixian has already passed. The body has been in repose for some time—today is the funeral.”

“The Langgan Guard… has already died?” The Mohe Guard was dumbstruck.

He had heard that the Langgan Guard had long suffered from chronic illness and madness, and had little time left—but to die at this exact moment?

The old servant’s hands trembled as he presented a death notice listing the Langgan Guard’s birth and death dates. The Mohe Guard glanced at it, then crumpled it into a ball and flung it to the ground. Suddenly his eyes widened and he shouted, “Stop!”

The funeral attendants halted, glancing at each other in confusion. The Mohe Guard strode toward the hearse and lifted the canopy. Inside lay a pine coffin. Ignoring the wailing servants and maids, he drew out an iron hook and pried out the seven large nails sealing the lid.

Even in death, he had to obtain a bone from the Langgan Guard to perform the bone-drip test on Fang Jingyu!

But then, the Mohe Guard froze. The coffin was empty—at its center was only a small nanmu wood box. He pried it open with the iron hook. Inside was only a pile of ashes. Not a single bone remained.

A maid beside him murmured, “The… the old master said the flesh decays easily. Better to follow the customs of Yiqu—gather firewood and burn the body. That way he could pass on in purity…”

“Ordinary fire couldn’t reduce a whole body to ash! There must still be bone fragments! Where did you hide them?!” the Mohe Guard roared.

“Th-they’re gone. The old master gave strict orders—he wanted his remains to be clean after death. If there were any fragments left, they had to be pounded and burned again. What remains of the master… is only this box of ashes.”

Silence fell.

In the cold wind, the old man suddenly burst into laughter—loud enough to drown out the cries of all thirty-six pallbearers.

After a long moment, the laughter cut off.

The Mohe Guard clutched the nanmu urn, toppled backward, his eyes rolled up—he collapsed in a dead faint, like a candle suddenly snuffed out.

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  ancient Chinese funeral lament or elegy—a dirge traditionally sung at funerals to mourn the dead