Love Lock

Chapter 282 I'm Just a No-Negotiator
As if Heaven could sense the joys and sorrows of humankind, the sky suddenly changed color as soon as Emperor Jing and his entourage of eunuchs entered the territory of the Dali Temple.

This wasn't the first time he'd come here, but each time he'd returned empty-handed, without any real breakthrough, which had completely dampened his enthusiasm for seeking entertainment with Consort Ru.

Today, he is determined to find out the whereabouts of "Em Sixteen," even if it means resorting to any means necessary.

Zhao Zun had built an impregnable fortress in Tuomugou and possessed powerful weapons like the "Aimu Sixteen." Cangzhou was no longer safe, and he accepted it.

But weapons as powerful as "Aim XVI" must be extremely rare. He was willing to bet that even Zhao Zun's Cangzhou army couldn't equip every soldier with one.

He had seen with his own eyes that the strangely shaped divine weapon was hidden in the Brocade Pavilion. It was Zhao Zun's weakness and his only hope.

Before Zhao Zun becomes powerful enough to conquer other states, he must obtain a sample of "Aim XVI" from Wei Chengchao and then order the Ministry of Works to manufacture it overnight. Otherwise, he will be subject to Zhao Zun's control at every turn.

That day, he was dragged to the Empress's palace by the little princess. After comforting the Empress, he went to the front hall.

He didn't sit idly by; instead, he suddenly thought of the problem of replicating "Em XVI" and immediately put it into action.

He had personally seen the design of "Em XVI" and thus judged that it must have been cast from refined iron. He immediately issued an edict to strictly control iron mining and casting within the Great Jing Dynasty and personally formulated the rules and procedures for this control.

The leaden-gray clouds hung low, and the biting north wind, carrying fine ice pellets, lashed against the windows of the Dali Temple, making them whistle and rattle.

The streets and alleys of the capital were more desolate than usual, with few pedestrians.

A thin layer of frost, not yet melted, covered the bluestone pavement. Occasionally, pedestrians would hurry along, their necks hunched. Heavy cotton curtains completely covered the shops. Only the firelight emanating from the depths of the Dali Temple dungeon offered a comforting warmth in the cold, damp space.

Inside the interrogation room, three meters underground, the heat and the stench of blood mingled together.

The torches on all four walls cast shadows of people onto the seeping stone walls, which twisted and contorted into terrifying shapes as the flames danced.

The bronze furnace in the center was burning brightly, and as the charcoal crackled and popped, several branding irons were already glowing red-hot, their tips gleaming with an eerie orange light.

Eight racks made of fine iron surrounded the furnace, each rack holding a raggedly dressed key manager from various branches of the Wei family.

People who were once living in luxury are now being chained up like livestock awaiting slaughter, including Wei Dahai, the newly appointed Minister of the Court of Judicial Review.

He hung his head and was bound to the rack, his disheveled hair obscuring his face. His official robes had long been stripped off, revealing the whip marks on his back that had not yet scabbed over.

This member of the Wei family, who had just enjoyed his time as the Minister of the Court of Judicial Review for a few months, is now personally living in a single cell in the dungeon of the Court of Judicial Review.

There was a square ventilation opening at the top of the interrogation room, and Emperor Jing was standing behind the ventilation opening with his arms crossed, watching the interrogation inside.

The iron grille of the ventilation vent cast diamond-shaped spots of light, and the fur collar of Emperor Jing's black sable fur coat trembled slightly in the darkness.

He pressed his thin lips together, his long fingers rhythmically tapping his elbows. His gaze shifted from the furnace fire to the row of pale faces on the rack, finally settling on Wei Chengchao's twitching calves.

A cluster of sparks suddenly erupted in the furnace, reflecting a bloodshot hue into the emperor's eyes.

In the corner, a water vat filled with ice water was being used by the jailer in charge of the interrogation to soak linen cloths. The clanging of chains mingled with suppressed groans, creating an eerie echo in the sealed stone chamber.

Beside the stove sat a worn-out desk, where Mao Lang, the newly promoted Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, sat upright, his eyes occasionally glancing toward the vent.

On the execution record beside him, the four small red characters "Refuse to sign" were gradually blurring in the heat of the room.

The humid heat, mixed with the stench of blood, permeated the narrow interrogation room, and Mao Lang's hands trembled slightly under the desk.

Emperor Jing personally supervised the inspection behind that ventilation shaft again today. Mao Lang secretly glanced at the construction site, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

If he still "refuses to sign" today, his newly appointed position as Minister of the Court of Judicial Review may be ruined, so he is taking even more ruthless measures than before.

"Beat him again!" Mao Lang shouted at the dying Wei Dahai.

With a sharp crack, the whip fell heavily.

"Tell me, what has your Wei clan done behind His Majesty's back?" the jailer asked fiercely, brandishing his whip.

"Ah!" Wei Dahai screamed, "No...nothing...nothing at all."

"Stop hitting him, sir! Stop hitting him! If you have any questions, come at me!" Wei Dahai's father struggled and shouted.

"Please, stop hitting me."

"My lord, my lord, please spare us!"

The others also pleaded for mercy.

“My Wei family is His Majesty’s own family, so how could we act recklessly behind His Majesty’s back?” Wei Dahai said intermittently.

Not getting the answer they wanted, the jailer ignored their pleas for mercy and continued to crack the whip. Wei Dahai's screams of agony echoed through the interrogation room once more.

"Sir, he has already received thirty lashes," the jailer reported in a low voice, wiping the bloodstains from his face.

Mao Lang, the Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, fixed his gaze on Wei Dahai, who was on the rack.

This young man from the Wei family, who was not yet twenty years old, had his white undergarment torn to shreds by the whip, revealing the bloody and mangled flesh beneath.

After he finished speaking, he lowered his head weakly, sweat mixed with blood flowing down the rack and onto the ground, accumulating into a small dark red puddle.

"Young Master Wei, why are you doing this?" Mao Lang came out from behind the desk, took two steps closer, and his boots made a sticky sound as they stepped on the pool of blood.

He leaned down and whispered in Wei Dahai's ear, "You are young and strong, with a bright future ahead of you. As long as you sign and confess, I will guarantee your life."

Wei Dahai slowly raised his head, a wan smile tugging at his cracked lips: "Lord Mao... a new official taking office... his first three moves... and this fire has fallen on my Wei family... it's truly... an honor..."

"Insolence!" Mao Lang's expression changed drastically, and he took a step back. "Keep hitting him! Keep hitting him until he tells the truth!"

The sound of the whip slicing through the air rang out again. This time, Wei Dahai did not scream in agony. His body convulsed violently with each lash, but he clenched his teeth and remained silent.

It wasn't until the fifth lash that he managed to squeeze out a muffled groan through his teeth.

"Speak! Is it true that the Wei clan is secretly colluding with the Turks, secretly aiding the enemy, and plotting a rebellion?" Mao Lang demanded again in a stern voice.

Wei Dahai gasped for breath, his throat making a bellows-like sound: "I told you, the Wei family... a hundred years of loyal service... His Majesty's own family... how could they..."

Mao Lang's gaze unconsciously drifted towards the air vent. It was dimly lit there, but he clearly saw a bright yellow hem flash by.

Cold sweat streamed down his back.

That damn Wei Dahai, he's so stubborn.

He had meant well, thinking that Prime Minister Wei, a veteran of three reigns, was old and frail, easily defeated. Wei Dahai, on the other hand, was a branch of the Wei family, young and strong, and could withstand the attack. Therefore, he targeted Wei Dahai first. If Wei Dahai readily confessed, Prime Minister Wei would be spared physical punishment. But now it seemed Wei Dahai didn't want to accept his favor, so he wouldn't hesitate to be ruthless.

"Prime Minister Wei!" Mao Lang suddenly turned to the old man in the corner, "Your nephew is tough, what about you?"

The over-sixty-year-old Prime Minister Wei slowly raised his head, his white beard stained with blood. Upon hearing Mao Lang's words, a trace of pain flashed in Prime Minister Wei's cloudy eyes, but he quickly straightened his hunched back.

“Lord Mao,” Prime Minister Wei’s voice was hoarse but firm, “I have served as prime minister for decades, assisting the late emperor and the current emperor, and have never been disloyal. My Wei family has been loyal to the emperor and the country for generations, and this heart is as clear as the sun and the moon.”

Mao Lang sneered and strode up to Prime Minister Wei: "Prime Minister, do you know why His Majesty suddenly investigated the Wei family?"

He lowered his voice, "Because someone witnessed Wei Gongzi's Jinxiufang taking advantage of the caravan's purchasing opportunities to secretly transport supplies to the Turks."

Prime Minister Wei was shocked, then shook his head: "Absolutely not! Since my son has made great progress, he has been running a business in the capital and has never left the capital. How could he have been in cahoots with the Turks?"

"Yeah?"

Mao Lang smirked, thinking: You have your clever plans, but I have my countermeasures. Today, I will make you confess no matter what.

Thinking of this, Mao Lang pulled a letter from his sleeve. "Your Excellency, this letter bears the Wei family's private seal, and its contents... are utterly treasonous!"

Prime Minister Wei's eyes widened, his trembling voice straining as he tried to read the letter: "Don't talk nonsense, this is impossible..."

"Uncle! Don't believe him!" Wei Dahai suddenly struggled on the rack. "It's a forgery! The Wei family seal has never left our side!"

A flicker of panic crossed Mao Lang's eyes, then he shouted sternly, "How noisy! Guards, gag him!"

After the jailer stuffed Wei Dahai's mouth with a rag, he turned to Prime Minister Wei, and his voice suddenly softened.

"Prime Minister, you are a veteran of three reigns, and His Majesty cherishes your memory. If you confess to the crime of treason, His Majesty promises to punish only the ringleader and spare the lives of the rest of the Wei family."

Prime Minister Wei's aged face trembled violently. He looked at his nephew Wei Dahai's bloodied and mangled back, then at the so-called "evidence" in Mao Lang's hand, and suddenly struggled to kneel down.

“Lord Mao,” Prime Minister Wei looked up, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Mao Lang, his voice choked with emotion, “I swear on my life that the Wei family has no ulterior motives. If you and His Majesty insist on an explanation… I am willing to confess on behalf of my entire family, I only beg… I only beg for the release of my son… and my clan.”

"Father! Ugh... Ugh..." Wei Chengchao writhed wildly on the rack, his eyes wide with rage.

Mao Lang subconsciously wanted to look up at the ventilation shaft. What Emperor Jing wanted was a confession from the entire Wei family, not just an old man taking the blame.

He sneered and suddenly grabbed Prime Minister Wei by the collar: "Prime Minister, you've reminded me that your son hasn't been interrogated yet!"

Prime Minister Wei struggled and crashed into the rack, the iron chains rattling loudly.

Mao Lang had already turned and walked towards Wei Chengchao, his boots leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the ground.

The charcoal in the stove crackled and popped. He casually pulled out a red-hot branding iron, its tip gleaming with a chilling orange light.

"No! No!" Prime Minister Wei suddenly burst into a heart-wrenching scream, the shackles on his wrists clanging as they were broken. "Lord Mao! He's nothing but an ignorant and dissolute playboy..."

Sparks from the branding iron grazed Mao Lang's cold, stern profile. Wei Chengchao trembled violently on the rack, his brocade robes soaked with cold sweat, the approaching red light flickering in his pupils.

"No...don't come any closer..." His teeth chattering was clearly audible. "I...I really don't know anything..."

Mao Lang stopped three steps away from him, the heat from the branding iron filling the air between them.

He suddenly chuckled, but his voice was more chilling than the air in the dungeon: "Young Master Wei, your father and these guys are all very stubborn, none of them will say a word."

The branding iron slowly traced a scorching path through the air before Wei Chengchao's eyes. "Then... I'll have to ask you to explain."

The red-hot iron block suddenly approached his nose, but before it even touched him, that coward Wei Chengchao let out a scream that sounded inhuman.

Dark water instantly spread to his groin, and his head lolled to the side as he fainted.

With the branding iron hovering half an inch from his face, Mao Lang raised an eyebrow at the instrument of torture in his hand, then glanced at the limp Wei Gongzi: "This... you've already fainted?"

The jailer holding the whip was trembling with suppressed laughter. Mao Lang tilted his chin without turning his head, and the jailer immediately picked up a bucket of salted ice water and poured it over Wei Chengchao's head.

Wei Chengchao sprang up like a fish out of water, waking up with a cough, his eyelashes still wet with water droplets, and met Mao Lang's ambiguous smile.

"Young Master Wei has just woken up, shall we... continue?" As the branding iron was raised again, a series of desperate cries erupted in the dark room.

"Speak," Mao Lang's voice was like ice water, "How did you use the Jinxiufang caravan to secretly deliver supplies to the Turks?"

The branding iron swayed slightly as he spoke, reflecting a flickering red light in Wei Chengchao's bloodshot eyes.

"I'm innocent, Your Honor! I know nothing!" Wei Chengchao cried out hoarsely, the shackles clanging against the rack with a chaotic sound.

His legs trembled, and he desperately tilted his head back, veins bulging on his neck. Cold sweat dripped from his chin onto the red-hot branding iron, making a hissing sound.

“I… I just go to Jinxiufang every day, and all the business matters are handled by Tang… by that Tang Xiaotong!”

Suddenly, Mao Lang slammed the branding iron into the charcoal brazier, sending sparks flying.

He leaned closer, his fingers lightly tracing Wei Chengchao's convulsing cheeks, his tone full of disbelief.

"You're the owner; all the caravan's documents require your signature. How can you tell me you didn't know anything about it?"

As he spoke, Mao Lang suddenly grabbed Wei Chengchao's chin, with such force that he almost dug it into his flesh.

Wei Chengchao's saliva spilled uncontrollably from the corners of his mouth, and there was a strong smell of urine coming from beneath him.

"Really...really. Manager Tang doesn't let me get involved in anything. He just lets me show up at the shop every day. I'm just a figurehead..."

The pain in his chin made his legs kick unconsciously under the rack, and the tattered soles of his boots rubbed two wet marks on the bluestone slab.

A gust of cold air suddenly rushed in through the upper vent.

Mao Lang looked up and caught a glimpse of the narrow shadow swaying slightly, as if a garment was fluttering past it.

Mao Lang's Adam's apple bobbed; he seemed to already see Emperor Jing's impatient expression. He immediately released his grip, and as he turned, the hem of his official robes billowed in a sharp arc.

"Then I'll ask you a second question," Mao Lang said, walking around behind the desk. "Where are those sewing tools you brought back from out of town? Why can't we find them at Jinxiufang?"

"Huh? This... what is the tool for, sir?"

A look of bewilderment crossed Wei Chengchao's fearful and desperate face.

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