Border Soldier: My fiancée snatched credit and broke off the engagement, so I promptly became a marq

Zhao Hong did not die.

When Lin Qinghe arrived at the dungeon, he was curled up on a straw mat, his lips were blue, his fingers were digging into his throat, and he couldn't utter a complete sentence.

Half of a rough porcelain bowl lay on the ground.

The bowl contains millet porridge.

A few grains of undissolved black powder floated on the surface of the porridge.

Lin Qinghe glanced at it only once before tossing the medicine box to Zhou Tie.

"Hold him down."

When Zhao Hong heard that he was to be pressed down, he struggled desperately.

Zhou Tie pressed down on his shoulder.

"Don't move if you don't want to die!"

Lin Qinghe used a thin tube to force-feed him the medicine, then forced him to vomit twice more. The dungeon reeked of sourness and bitterness; by the end, Zhao Hong looked like he had been pulled out of water.

She used a silver needle to pick up the black residue from the bottom of the bowl, smelled it, then dipped a little in and smeared it on the dead rat meat she had caught from the corner of the wall.

Before half a cup of tea was finished, a bluish tinge appeared on the edges of the meat.

"It's not an upset stomach."

Lin Qinghe placed the silver needles on the white cloth.

"It's aconite residue mixed with the bitter taste of frostbite medicine. The amount isn't large; it's not enough to kill him immediately."

Yan Heng asked, "What do you want?"

"First the throat will be damaged, then the hands and feet will be injured."

"A person is alive, yet unable to speak or write."

Upon hearing this, Zhao Chenglie slowly slid down, supporting himself on the wooden fence.

This is even more ruthless than killing someone with a single blow.

Han Wenshan needed a "living Zhao Hong" so that the military judge could see that the witness was still alive; he also needed a Zhao Hong who could no longer testify about Miao Jiu, the mass grave, and the old military license plate.

Yan Heng instructed the clerk to record the medicine dregs, the porcelain bowl, and the time of meal delivery, and then ordered someone to check the grain depot's serial number. Du Song stood by, neither stopping him nor urging him to check.

His old case is still on the three lists.

In his eyes, Zhao Hong's poison could be tested slowly, but Chen Mu's privately established military power had to be determined today.

Zhao Chenglie looked through the wooden fence, his face deathly pale.

"Will my father die?"

Lin Qinghe didn't have time to comfort him.

"It's up to fate."

"Who sent the porridge?"

The guard knelt at the door, trembling violently.

"The people from the grain bureau."

"Which grain commissioner?"

"Never seen him before. He was wearing a short jacket from the White Wolf Depot's grain garrison, and the token he was holding was genuine."

Yan Heng picked up the wooden sign from the ground.

The cards are real.

But the person ran away.

Han Wenshan arrived very quickly.

He stood outside the cell door and glanced at Zhao Hong.

"It's normal for a person awaiting punishment to have an upset stomach due to their weak constitution."

Zhao Chenglie suddenly lunged at the wooden fence.

"Was it you?"

Han Wenshan didn't even lift his eyelids.

"Your father altered the register for the Zhao family, colluded with barbarians, and stole credit; many people want to kill him."

"Why are you specifically pointing to me?"

Zhao Chenglie's teeth chattered.

He used to be afraid of Han Wenshan because he was afraid of officials, soldiers, and the Zhao family losing their backing.

This time is different.

For the first time, he realized that this person really would kill his father.

It's not about scaring.

It's not about hitting someone a few times.

It was a bowl of porridge that rendered the survivors unable to speak again.

Zhao Hong suddenly grabbed his son's sleeve.

He had no strength in his hands, but he gripped them very tightly.

Zhao Chenglie bent down and heard only the broken breaths coming from his father's throat.

There isn't a single complete word.

But Zhao Chenglie understood the lip movements.

Don't go.

Back at Black Pine Ridge, he thought that once they reached White Wolf Pass, the Zhao family would have a chance to turn their fortunes around. Now, his father would rather stay in the Black Stone Fortress dungeon than get on the escort vehicle to White Wolf Pass.

The very people who once supported the Zhao family have now become the ones who most want to silence them.

Chen Mu did not come.

Du Song forbade him from leaving the front of the three lists, and Lin Qinghe forbade anyone from carrying him anymore.

When the lame man was brought in by the military officers, he was carrying a split piece of wood in his arms.

Du Song ordered the notice to be taken down, and the military officers transported the wooden planks away for sealing. While no one was looking, the lame man picked up a piece of the fallen edge.

Yan Heng saw it.

"Throw it down."

The lame man didn't throw it away.

He pointed to the bowl of porridge: "There's a mark on the bottom of the bowl."

Everyone lowered their heads.

The rough porcelain bowl was covered with mud on the outside, and there was only a ring of black ash at the bottom.

The lame man squatted down and wiped himself with his sleeve.

Half of the burnt-out character "赤" was visible.

Anato was held outside the door and recognized at a glance.

"Red Iron Treasury".

Han Wenshan turned his head: "How can an old bowl be linked to an armory?"

Anato leaned against the wooden railing, sneering.

"The people of Chitieku use these bowls for eating and drinking. The iron dust in the warehouse is heavy, and the white bowls will turn black in three days, so they burn characters on the bottom to prevent them from mixing with the bowls used for storing butter."

Yan Heng looked at He Wenbai.

He Wenbai's face was grim.

"Chitieku did indeed use a batch of coarse porcelain with a bottom printing."

"When?"

Two years ago.

Han Wenshan said, "The bowl from two years ago is already overflowing with filth."

"Yes." Yan Heng put the bowl into the document bag. "So it's just a record, not a definite one."

Han Wenshan's eyes darkened slightly.

This is exactly the method Chen Mu has always used.

Not enough to warrant a conviction.

Leave a trace first.

Du Song then entered the dungeon.

He glanced at Zhao Hong, then looked at the bowl in Yan Heng's hand.

"The poisoning will be investigated separately."

"Today, we will first examine the unauthorized establishment of military power."

Zhao Chenglie roared, "My father almost died!"

Du Song's voice remained unchanged: "So you're still alive."

"As long as you're alive, you can wait."

"Major cases in the Military Law Department cannot wait."

Zhao Chenglie was stunned.

Old Chai was held on the other side, and he was furious as he listened.

"Is a human life less important than that old piece of paper of yours?"

The military officer's sword sheath was held horizontally.

Old Chai's back injury hadn't healed, and he groaned when he was hit.

Du Song looked at him.

"The temporary review team has been disbanded; you're now just a kitchen helper."

"A second offense against military law will result in twenty strokes of the cane."

Old Chai gritted his teeth and refused to bow his head.

"The twelve strokes haven't been returned yet."

"Even if it's twenty more, I can still remember it."

Du Song's eyes turned cold.

Han Wenshan smiled.

What he most wanted to see was the cooks unable to hold back.

As long as these people break through military law, storm the dungeon, and snatch witnesses, Chen Mu's unauthorized establishment of military power will no longer be an old case being used to convict him, but a crime being committed in the present moment.

Yan Heng clearly saw it too.

"Take Old Chai back to the military court."

"The Han family's personal guards are not allowed to touch it."

Du Song looked at him: "Yan Heng, you're protecting too much."

Yan Heng said, "I will protect those who are alive."

"Now that everyone's dead, what grounds will Lord Du use to convict them?"

The two stared at each other for a moment.

Du Song did not persist.

Yan Heng then replaced the original four guards in the dungeon.

The water needs to be tested by two people at the same time.

The food was first tested by military officers before being sent to the prison.

Even emptying chamber pots had to be registered in front of the clerk.

Han Wenshan stood outside the door watching without interfering. He had already intervened once; forcibly stopping him again would only implicate him in the poisoning case.

But the cooks in the camp were not at ease.

Before Lao Chai was taken away, he saw two untouched rice bowls in the corner. He asked whose they were.

The guard said, "One bowl is for Zhao Chenglie, and one bowl is for Anado."

Old Chai's expression immediately changed.

The food delivered in the same batch was poisoned in Zhao Hong's bowl, but the other two bowls were not necessarily clean.

Lin Qinghe put all three bowls into the medicine box and then had the wooden bucket used for delivering food sealed up. There was a small piece of hardened black oil stuck to the bottom of the bucket, which didn't look like kitchen grease, but rather like the oil used to seal armor boxes.

Anato took a sniff through the wooden fence.

"There was iron ash mixed in with the butter."

"The taste of Red Iron Crate."

The line circled back to the person with the missing finger.

The other party took more than half a book.

They've already reached into the dungeon.

Zhao Hong finally caught his breath.

He opened his eyes, but the first person he saw was not Zhao Chenglie.

It's that bowl.

He raised his hand and pointed twice.

"You recognize him?" Yan Heng asked.

Zhao Hong's throat was poisoned, so he couldn't speak and could only nod.

"The Red Iron Citadel?"

Zhao Hong nodded again.

"Is it related to Miao Jiu?"

This time, he pressed harder.

Han Wenshan's expression changed.

Yan Heng immediately ordered the clerk to bring paper.

Zhao Hong's hands were shaking violently.

The pen was shoved into his hand, and after a long while, he only managed to draw a crooked line.

Zhao Chenglie gripped the wooden fence, his eyes red with anxiety.

"Dad, slow down."

Zhao Hong gritted his teeth and began to write again.

The first character was only half written.

Suddenly, the sound of horses neighing rang out outside the dungeon.

Immediately afterwards, a military officer rushed in.

"Lord Yan!"

"People from the Red Iron Clan have arrived."

"By order of Lord Du, we are to bring back to Bailang Pass the case of the medicine box theft and Zhao Hongyi."

Yan Heng suddenly looked at Du Song.

Du Song remained expressionless.

"I issued the transfer order."

"Blackstone Fortress has no right to judge the Red Iron Treasury."

Han Wenshan smiled slowly.

The pen in Zhao Hong's hand fell to the ground.

He shook his head frantically.

Outside the gate, twelve guards from the Red Iron Warehouse had already dismounted.

The person at the very front was wearing leather gloves.

When walking, the right foot goes deeper.

The left foot is shallow.

Ma Liu was still protesting his innocence in the military court tent.

Hearing the sound of horses' hooves outside, he suddenly stopped shouting and peered out through the crack in the tent.

Every three steps the man took, his left foot would gently splay outwards.

It was exactly the same as the half-footprint left under the shed by the well.

Ma Liu turned to report the news, but his short chain caught on a wooden stake. He fell and his knee went numb; he bit his sleeve and didn't dare to cry out.

The area outside was filled with people from Chitieku and the Han family.

He shouts, and the other person knows that his footprints have been recognized.

For the first time, Ma Liu held back his words.

He pressed himself against the tent flap, watching the feet walk toward the dungeon.