Chapter 36: In That Case, Let's Kill Someone
“I greet you, my lord.”
Cao Ying and Lady Yi once again knelt.
“No need for such formality.” Yang Xuan felt like the leader of a makeshift theatrical troupe, with only two stray cats at his side.
Cao Ying rose, stroked his beard, and said, “My lord, the word ‘rebellion’ seems a bit inappropriate.”
Lady Yi nodded, frowning and clutching her chest. “You are the rightful heir, my lord. That old dog and his son are nothing but impostors!”
The two racked their brains; Cao Ying plucked out a few more beard hairs, Lady Yi pressed at her chest, disregarding her pain…
“How about…”
“How about…”
They fell into a quarrel. Lady Yi grew angry. “And you call yourself a strategist? What a disgrace!”
Cao Ying smiled and stroked his beard. “Back in the day, the late Emperor Filial and Respectful often praised me greatly.”
Yang Xuan gestured for silence. As they looked at him, he said, “Suppressing the traitors!”
Seeing their surprise, Yang Xuan rose and headed toward the privy, his voice drifting back faintly: “Only with a just cause can the words be righteous!”
“Brilliant!” Cao Ying exclaimed with a face full of integrity. “The late Emperor Filial and Respectful died under suspicious circumstances, and now the Li father and son are mere impostors, usurping the throne… If my lord raises an army as the heir of the late emperor, the cause is just.”
In the privy, Yang Xuan sighed. “I have many more slogans: ‘Do not say the stone man has but one eye, for Heaven itself has died’… All sorts of strange ones. Vermilion Bird, Vermilion Bird…”
But who could he raise an army with now? Three people, a single horse, and their entire fortune amounted to a thirty percent share in Yuanzhou Ramen. The poorest uprising in history—if Yang Xuan claimed second, no one would dare claim first.
A foundation must be built!
Yang Xuan pondered as he squatted.
At breakfast, Cao Ying and Lady Yi were clearly more respectful toward Yang Xuan.
As Yang Xuan ate, Cao Ying stood nearby, reading aloud a letter from Yang Lue.
“Upon learning that my lord had entered the Imperial Academy, I drank myself into oblivion.”
That fellow hadn’t touched a drop in fifteen years—must have finally relapsed.
Yang Xuan chewed a piece of mutton, finding it a bit tough.
“The plan to become an official is sound. At present, our foundations are shallow. If we act rashly, we invite only suffering.”
“Therefore, you must devote yourselves to assisting my lord in Chang’an. Should anyone harbor disloyalty or show disrespect, I, Yang Lue, swear to spend my life exterminating their entire family!”
Threatening to wipe out families at the drop of a hat—classic Yang Lue.
“Three directions,” Yang Xuan mused after much thought. “The Left Chancellor, the Wang family, the Imperial Academy. But most importantly… a smith must first harden his own iron.”
Cao Ying praised, “My lord’s insight is profound. But today is a grand occasion—shouldn’t we celebrate?”
Yang Xuan was silent for a long time.
“In that case, let’s kill someone.”
…
Tonight, the moon is shrouded, and the wind is high.
“I have composed a poem,” Cao Ying declared.
In the pitch-black alley, he clutched a wineskin, took a deep swig, then stood with hands clasped behind his back, ready to recite.
From the shadows behind, Lady Yi said ominously, “Don’t summon any vengeful spirits.”
Cao Ying’s poetic mood was broken, leaving him groping for the next line as if constipated.
Meanwhile, Lady Yi silently gazed at the sky.
Why did our lord order us to kill?
And to specifically target He Huan’s chief guard.
She simply couldn’t understand!
Hoofbeats approached—someone was coming.
Lady Yi vanished into the darkness.
Ahead, Cao Ying pressed at his throat and leaned against the wall, retching violently.
A lone rider approached at a leisurely pace.
Upon the horse was Yuan Qing, chief guard of the He family.
Ever since He Huan had been savagely beaten by He Jincheng, gloom had hung over their household. He Huan no longer went out, leaving Yuan Qing with little to do. That day, he had gathered with some old friends at Pingkang Lane, drinking heavily, and was only now making his way home.
Up ahead, a drunkard was vomiting noisily.
The stench was overwhelming!
Yuan Qing frowned and spat, “Worthless cur!”
No one enjoys running into a drunkard. Yuan Qing belched, spurred his horse, and prepared to pass quickly.
But just as he drew level with the drunkard, the man braced both hands against the wall and flung himself into the air, fists forward, eyes gleaming coldly—there was not a trace of drunkenness about him.
Yuan Qing’s reflexes were impressive. He kicked off, leaping into the air, hands curved like talons, striking down from above.
Bang!
They clashed and parted instantly. Sensing his opponent was not his equal, Yuan Qing sneered, “Come to court death, have you?”
Like a swooping falcon, he chased after the retreating drunk.
To the side, a young girl sat outside her house, chin in her hands, lost in thought. Hearing the flutter of robes, she looked up and exclaimed in awe.
“Come quickly, look—a celestial being!”
In midair, Yuan Qing glanced at the girl. The remnants of wine in his blood stirred a strange thrill in his heart.
He kicked off the wall, accelerating forward.
Ahead was the drunkard’s back.
Die!
Yuan Qing gathered his inner energy and drove his right fist toward the man’s spine.
The drunkard suddenly darted left, with Yuan Qing in hot pursuit.
Abruptly, the drunkard spun around and punched with all his might.
Their fists collided.
In that instant, a glint of light flashed from the shadows.
Something soft and flexible whipped out, trembling as it moved, reminding Yuan Qing of a courtesan’s silken touch.
A soft sword!
Yuan Qing drew a deep breath and dropped downward.
Bang!
Only now did their fists truly connect.
Yuan Qing sneered—then his expression changed dramatically.
He had pulled his punch, intending to use the force to retreat, but to his shock, the drunkard had withdrawn even more.
It was almost as if he’d offered no resistance.
It was calculated!
Yuan Qing’s body lunged forward.
The drunkard used the force to flip backward, kicking off with both legs.
Yuan Qing instinctively swept his legs aside, twisting his body in an impossible manner to dodge the soft sword.
Only then did a hand emerge from the shadows—pale, with fingernails tinted a delicate shade of clove.
With a flick, the soft sword twisted like a viper.
A flash of blood at Yuan Qing’s neck.
His head flew into the air.
He saw the young girl turn and excitedly shout into the house.
And then, from the shadows, a woman stepped forth.
Moonlight peeked through the clouds, shining down as the woman gave a foxlike smile.
“My lord wished you dead tonight. You will not live to see the dawn.”
Yuan Qing’s final thought… Who is her lord?
Moments later, a girl’s scream echoed through the alley, “There’s a dead man!”
…
He Huan sat on a cushioned stool while a physician changed the dressing on his leg.
“Be careful, young sir. A hairline fracture may seem trivial, but if it lingers, you’ll suffer whenever it rains.”
He Huan’s handsome face was marked by impatience. “Faster.”
The physician sped up his work.
Footsteps hurried in.
“What is it?” He Huan looked up, an ominous feeling rising in his chest.
A servant burst in, face ashen. “Young master, Yuan Qing is dead.”
Bang!
He Huan kicked the physician aside, pain shooting up his leg.
“Who did it?”
…
Yang Xuan sat in his room, studying and contemplating.
Faint footsteps sounded outside.
“My lord, the task is complete.”
These two truly possessed some skill. Yang Xuan realized he’d underestimated them. He’d sent them to kill for authority’s sake, but now he needed to offer comfort.
“You’ve worked hard. Rest early.”
Outside, Lady Yi murmured in puzzlement, “Why is it that, after killing Yuan Qing, I feel even closer to our lord?”
Cao Ying nodded, clearly sharing the sentiment.
Inside, Yang Xuan typed four words.
—A token of allegiance!
Lines of text appeared on the screen.
—Lin Chong said, “I have committed a capital crime, so I come to join you. Why do you doubt me?” Wang Lun replied, “If you are sincere, show your loyalty with a token.” Lin Chong answered, “I am literate; give me paper and brush, and I will write one.” Zhu Gui laughed, “Master-at-arms, you are mistaken. All true men, when joining, must offer a token of allegiance: you must go down the mountain, kill someone, and bring back their head. Only then will we trust you. That is the meaning of a token of allegiance.”