Daming: Brother, there is no future for monks, let's rebel

Just then, a very faint "click" came from below the river surface, as if the ice had been tentatively pressed down.

The skinny man's eyes narrowed, and the fox fur on his shoulder tightened slightly: "Who!"

Before he finished speaking, a shadow flipped up from the crack in the ice, and with a flick of its long hook, it caught the ankle of the first shadowy figure.

As the shadowy figure stumbled and fell, another shadow rose from behind the tree roots, twisting a "toothed chain" in its hand and strangling the second shadowy figure's throat.

The skinny man pushed off with his feet, retreating three steps away. He pulled a short crossbow from the fox fur, the tip pointing at Li Gong's forehead.

"Fire the crossbows." A cold voice came from the wind.

The skinny man's fingers trembled slightly, but he quickly steadied himself and laughed: "What, 'Qianwang' has hired some江湖人 (jianghu people)?"

If the whistle sounds, the ambush troops outside the beach will arrive; if the line breaks, he will be unable to call for help.

"You guys are... well prepared." The skinny man gritted his teeth. "Who taught you that?"

"Sign it." Li Gong said calmly, "'Yideng' taught me."

A ruthless glint flashed in the skinny man's eyes. The moment the crossbow bolt was pulled, his figure was deflected by a tiny lead pellet. The bolt grazed Li Gong's ear and embedded itself in the bark of the locust tree.

The skinny man wanted to shoot another arrow, but his foot suddenly tightened, and he was dragged down from under the ice by something, falling face down onto the snow.

When he raised his hand again, the crossbow had been switched to his other hand—Zhu Han was standing beside him, having arrived at some unknown time.

"You've been watching me for three days." Zhu Han looked at him. "Which branch of the Yan people are you?"

The skinny guy grinned. "Guess."

“Third,” Zhu Han said, “The first route is to inspect the palace, the second to inspect the city, and the third to inspect the pass.”

The skinny man laughed, a cold laugh in his eyes. "Since you know that, you should know that we have more than three routes."

"I know." Zhu Han took the crossbow in his hand, casually snapped it in two, and said, "So you need to leave an opening along the way."

The skinny man's eyes flickered: "Keep me here?"

“No.” Zhu Han said casually, “Keep ‘Bai San’. Go tell him to sign in.”

The skinny man was silent for a few moments, then suddenly smiled brightly: "Good!"

He clapped his hands, and two people jumped out from behind him, put the "person" on the ground, let go of him, and stepped back.

The skinny man clasped his hands in a fist salute, turned and walked away, but after taking two steps, he turned back and said, "Marquis of Nan'an, the Yan people are no match for you."

"If you don't kill me tonight, I won't kill you tomorrow morning either," Zhu Han said calmly. "Go."

This time, the skinny man didn't look back; he sped away with the wind.

Soon, only the wind, snow, locust trees, and the box that had been opened a crack remained on the riverbank.

"Shall we uncover the person and take a look?" Hao asked Ying.

"Wait." Zhu Han stared at the 'person' without moving his gaze. "Wait two more breaths."

Two breaths later, he walked over, pulled the cloth out of the "person's" mouth, and untied the black cloth covering their head. The face was indeed "Sang Er".

Upon seeing the light, Sang Er gasped for breath, then managed to squeeze out a few words: "My...my husband..."

"What does your husband want you to do?" Zhu Han asked.

“Keep an eye on…keep an eye on Ciyun Temple.” Sang Er’s eyes darted around. “He said the Crown Prince…is not in the city.”

After saying those two sentences, he closed his eyes and fainted—not faking it, but from the cold.

“Send them back to the ‘changing point’ under the ‘Stone Buddha Bridge’,” Zhu Han said. “Lu Ting will receive his men first thing tomorrow morning—that’s enough.”

"Enough?" Hao asked Ying, puzzled.

"He knows enough that 'Qianwang' knows everything about him."

Zhu Han closed the box and fastened the iron ring, "That should be enough to deter him from signing anything recklessly again."

Li Gong handed the 'wild goose' card back: "Here's the receipt back to you."

"Keep it," Zhu Han said. "You'll need it on your next trip."

“I’ll go back to Yanmen again.” Li Gong clasped his hands in a fist salute. “I’ll use up the ‘half pair’ you gave me for you.”

"That's it once you've used it all." Zhu Han turned around. "Let's go."

Upon returning to the city, a glimmer of hope appeared.

In the alley behind Yonghe Hall, the empty coffin still remained, the 'signature marks' on the coffin rim covered by a thin layer of fresh snow.

Zhu Han stood at the door, took the last page of the three-page booklet from his sleeve, and stuffed it into a crack in the wall.

On the back of that page was the "system's" new "note": "Next sign: Meridian Gate, 5 AM, Fire Talisman Verification."

"Fire Talisman Sample Test?" Hao Duiying was confused.

“After burning the fake seal at the Meridian Gate,” Zhu Han said, “today we should burn the fake 'talisman'.”

"Whose?"

“Lu Ting’s,” Zhu Han said calmly. “He also has two ‘private seals’ in his possession, one for official seals and the other for money.”

How to cook it?

"Let him put it into the fire himself."

Zhu Han looked at the "signature marks" on the wall and thought, "The online lottery won't take his life, but it will take his hands."

"He's willing?"

“If he refuses, then let the Censorate agree.”

Zhu Han said, "The Censorate will be 'checking in' tonight."

He gently smoothed the wall, leaving a thin layer of powder on his fingertips.

The powder wasn't ash; it was an extremely fine mixture of stone powder and vermilion clay. Only those skilled in "signing nets" knew that a few swipes could restore the carved patterns.

After doing all this, he turned around and said, "Let's go to the Imperial Ancestral Temple."

What else is in the Imperial Ancestral Temple?

“I want a final 'shadow',” Zhu Han said. “Let me shut it off in front of everyone.”

Hao nodded to Ying and quickened his pace slightly.

The wind in the city subsided a bit, and the snow also lessened.

As dawn broke, the palace walls were tinged with a pale gold.

The drill ground in front of the Meridian Gate had been swept clean of snow, the gold bricks gleaming coldly, and flags fluttering at the four corners.

The smith from the Ordnance Bureau was already waiting. The pine resin in the copper basin was still burning, and the saltpeter was wrapped in rolls and placed on the corner of the table.

Zhu Han looked around and saw that the Censorate, the Secretariat, the Ministry of Rites, and the Embroidered Uniform Guard were all present, but Lu Ting was missing.

Hao turned slightly to the side and whispered, "He's scared."

“He dares not be late.” Zhu Han said with his hands behind his back. “The Meridian Gate is a place where Heaven hears all things. If he dares to be absent, someone will ask him tomorrow where his ‘private talisman’ came from.”

"What if he resists?" Hao asked Ying.

"Let him throw the things into the fire himself."

Zhu Han said calmly, "Just let go, and it's done."

As soon as the drums sounded, Lu Ting arrived.

His fox fur coat was frosty, and the soles of his boots were covered in mud, yet his expression remained stern.

He stepped forward and bowed: "Your Highness summoned me here for a 'fire test,' but I wonder what it is?"

"Inspect it for fakes." Zhu Han turned around and said to the Vice Minister of the Ordnance Bureau, "Open the basin."

The tinderbox raised its hand, and with a touch of the tinderbox, the pine resin ignited with a "whoosh," and the flames rolled half a foot high.

Zhu Han took out the scroll, unfolded it, and found several small wooden seals in red ink, two door charms, and a checklist.

Every item was brand new, except for the old red clay, which had a bitter and sour smell.

"Prime Minister Lu, please examine this."

Zhu Han handed him a vermilion seal, saying, "If you truly recognize the genuine seal, I will surrender today."

Lu Ting held the seal in his palm, paused for a moment, and then said with a forced smile, "It is exactly as I saw it."

"How many times have you met him?" Zhu Han asked.

“Too many.” Lu Ting looked up. “Thousands of official documents are circulated daily, both internal and external. As the prime minister, how could I not be familiar with them?”

"It has nothing to do with the truth." Zhu Han took the seal back from his hand, pinched it with his fingertips, and with a "crack," the wooden core split open, revealing the lead sheet inside.
"This seal is heavy; it sinks slightly more than a genuine seal in ink. You've been using fakes for so long that you can't distinguish the real from the fake, and your fingers have long been misled." Lu Ting's face turned cold. The ministers murmured amongst themselves.

Zhu Han, unhurriedly, picked up a small scale, and with a flick of the weight, placed the genuine seal and the fake seal on the plate. The genuine seal, delivered by the Central Secretariat last night, weighed a little over half an ounce, while the fake seal weighed half an ounce and four mace.

The smiths could tell the difference once they compared the numbers.

"Please." Zhu Han handed the fake seal to Lu Ting.

"What do you want?" Lu Ting's lips twitched.

"Please throw the fire," Zhu Han said. "The fake one has been in your hands the longest, so you should throw it first."

A moment of silence fell, even the wind seemed to shrink back. Lu Ting stared at the small wooden piece, his fingertips growing cold, as if gripping some kind of icy poison.

He saw the Embroidered Uniform Guards watching coldly from the side, the Minister of Rites with his eyes lowered, and two censors from the Censorate quietly moving half a step away from him, an inch further away.

He suddenly chuckled, but the smile was faint: "It's fake, so it should be burned."

As the wooden core was fired, the pine resin surged forth, and the red clay hissed and emitted a pungent odor.

The stoker pressed it down with an iron fork, and the seal cracked, the lead sheet softened, and dripped into a few pale tears.

Lu Ting lowered his eyes, his sleeve trembling slightly.

"The second one." Zhu Han handed over another one.

"Still burning?" Lu Ting asked.

"If you want to keep it as a memento, that's fine too," Zhu Han said calmly. "However, a memento is worth more than life."

Lu Ting took it without a word and threw it into the fire. Two crackling sounds from the fire felt like blows to his heart.

His face paled even more, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the officials of the Secretariat standing ramrod straight with their necks hunched over, as if afraid he would turn around.

“Gate talismans.” Zhu Han laid out two seemingly identical palace gate talismans on the table. “One is genuine, the other is fake. Prime Minister Lu, distinguish them.”

Lu Ting dared not accept, but this time the Minister of Rites stepped forward, cupped his hands and asked for permission: "Your subject will try."

The Minister of Rites brought a bowl of water and gently dipped the edges of the two door charms. Immediately, a thin red thread emerged from one of them. The Minister let out a very soft "Hmm": "This red thread is the old one. New charms don't need red threads. —Fake."

“The fakes, burn them,” Zhu Han said.

The Minister responded, picked up the fake talisman, and threw it into the fire.

The fire swallowed a black streak along the edge of the paper, the door talisman curled up, the red thread flipped over, and then it was gone.

“The booklet.” Zhu Han pressed down on the last thin booklet. “This is the ‘collation’ document that you copied on your desk. Prime Minister Lu, return it to Huo yourself.”

Lu Ting's gaze fell on the booklet, and a stiff smile suddenly appeared on his face: "Your Highness said it was on my desk, is that evidence?"

"If you want it," Zhu Han raised his chin, "I'll have someone send you a whole cabinet of it."

"No need." Lu Ting looked up and reached for the thin booklet. The moment his fingertips touched the back of the paper, he felt as if he had been burned and immediately withdrew his fingers.

But he still grabbed the corner of the book and threw it into the fire.

The booklet was turned over twice in the fire, and the ash on the back of the paper floated up and quickly disappeared.

The fire in the brazier dimmed slightly, and Zhu Han dusted off his sleeves: "The fire inspection at the Meridian Gate has come to an end. Record it in the Central Secretariat, and supervise it in the Censorate."

Two officials stepped forward, acknowledged the order, and each noted down the time and items, then affixed their seals.

Zhu Han turned to Lu Ting: "Prime Minister Lu, from today onwards, all the seals, tokens, and registers you need will be allocated by the Central Secretariat according to procedure. If you see 'wooden core and lead core' again, you know the consequences."

Lu Ting stiffened his neck and gave a reply, then turned to leave. Zhu Han suddenly called out to him, "Wait a minute."

"Is there anything else, Your Highness?" Lu Ting's body stiffened.

"You've been secretly using the two borrowing talismans," Zhu Han said. "One is for the seal, the other for the money. Hand them over."

"Why do you say that, Your Highness?" Lu Tingqiang smiled. "I am the head of all officials, how could I—"

"Words are useless," Zhu Han interrupted. "If you don't take it, who will dare to speak up for you outside the Meridian Gate today?"

The wind blew, and the fire grew even stronger.

Lu Ting's Adam's apple bobbed, and his hand inside his sleeve gripped the two small talismans tightly, as if he were holding two lives in his grasp.

After a moment, he finally took out the talisman and placed it in front of the fire.

The fireman raised his fork, his eyes questioning.

"Throw." Lu Ting gritted his teeth. "Throw."

The two small talismans were lit, and in the blink of an eye, the wooden core broke.

Lu Ting's face was deathly pale, and he couldn't even utter the words "please leave." He forced himself to bow and retreat.

The crowd dispersed, and Zhu Han stared at the fire as if he were looking at an old thread that was about to burn out.

Hao leaned closer to Ying: "He felt half empty inside today."

“It’s better to leave it empty.” Zhu Han lowered his eyes. “If it’s empty, he won’t dare to move around.”

"Beyond the Meridian Gate lies the Imperial Ancestral Temple."

Hao Duiying thought for a moment, "Will Your Highness still go to the ancestral tablet to read the 'print' today as scheduled?"

“As before,” Zhu Han said. “Let everyone see only one thing—he is still here, the seal is in his hands, not in anyone else’s.”

"What about the other side of Yanmen Pass?"

"We'll get back to you tonight." Zhu Han glanced at him sideways. "Let's see if that skinny guy has the guts."

As night fell over the city, the wind outside Shenwu Gate subsided, and the snow fell low.

The lamps were not lit in the side room behind Yonghe Hall. The lacquered coffin was still leaning against the wall, and the scratches on the edge of the coffin were so faintly visible that they were almost invisible under a thin layer of powder.

A layer of frost had formed on the window frame; when scraped off, it crumbled into dust.

Zhu Biao changed into a plain gray robe, sat in front of the couch, holding the three-page book he had read at the Imperial Ancestral Temple that day, his fingertips twirling the edge of the paper as if he were imitating the pauses in those three sentences.

Zhu Han pushed open the door and entered, deliberately wiping the snow off the soles of his boots on the threshold.

"Have you memorized it?" he asked.

“It’s ready.” Zhu Biao put the book down. “Uncle, I read each word with the correct pauses. The officials will understand and won’t ask any questions.”

“Very good.” Zhu Han sat down opposite him. “Tomorrow, change clothes and get a new haircut.”

You shall enter the palace at the seventh watch as usual, arrive at the Fengtian Hall a quarter before the hour of Si (9-11 AM), take your seat a quarter after the hour of Si (9-11 AM), and disperse at the beginning of the hour of Si (9-11 AM).

After the court session, walk along the Yonghe Corridor, passing through the crack in the wall on the right, and then through the central gate.

"Why go through the middle gate?" Zhu Biao asked.

“The steps at the middle gate are too loud,” Zhu Han said. “Some people like to count the steps.”

Zhu Biao understood something and nodded: "What about three days later?"

"Three days later, ascend the throne."

Zhu Han said, "You don't need to speak. The Secretariat will issue a decree, and I will respond. Just being here is enough."

“Uncle,” Zhu Biao looked up, “Father…is gone.”

"We'll discuss this further at the Imperial Ancestral Temple tomorrow."

Zhu Han looked at him, his voice neither loud nor soft, "Don't say it inside. The walls will remember."

Zhu Biao responded, lowered his eyelids, then raised them again: "About the Prince of Yan..."

"The people of Yan suffered a loss today, but they will take the imperial examination a second time tomorrow."

Zhu Han stood up. "They might not send troops, but they might send letters. Remember—don't accept any letters without an official seal."

Zhu Biao gripped the cloth on his lap tightly, his smile barely perceptible, but he still smiled: "I know."

"Okay." Zhu Han turned around. "Let's rest."

Just as he was about to leave, Zhu Biao suddenly called out to him, "Uncle."

"Ok?"

"If I can sit securely in the future,"

Zhu Biao paused for a moment, then said, "You shall leave the palace and go to your own residence."

"Let's wait until things are more stable before we talk about it," Zhu Han replied.

The door closed, a gust of wind swept through the corridor, and the lamplight flickered in and out of the crack, like breathing. (End of Chapter)