When Pan Lin died, Li Jianting had just turned the corner from critical danger. The palace maids and eunuchs attending inside had no time to weep with relief before they were all thrown into prison. The Crown Prince had been poisoned, and the Bureau of Wine, Vinegar, and Noodles was immediately sealed off; all the eunuchs on duty were jailed. Fu Man, relying on his seniority from the Tianchen Emperor’s reign, took charge of the case and subjected them to brutal torture.
“Ancestor! Ancestor!” A young eunuch could not endure the beating, collapsing over the bench as he cried out, “Spare my life!”
Fu Man wore a python-patterned robe with trailing hem, a smoked-dome hat on his head, hands clasped behind his back as he examined the calligraphy and paintings on the wall.
The eunuchs wielding the rods were remnants of the old Eastern Depot, well-versed in such methods. They beat the young eunuch until he nearly fainted.
“Ancestor… spare me…” he sobbed incoherently.
Fu Man turned back and said, “The Crown Prince fell ill while under your service. If you want to live, you’d better give me a clear account.”
These attending eunuchs had all entered the palace after the Tianchen Emperor’s time. Even now, they did not know what poison the Crown Prince had taken—there was nothing they could confess.
Fu Man, patient, said, “Think carefully about what the Crown Prince ate and wore that day. The Bureau of Wine, Vinegar, and Noodles is full of all sorts of people—who knows if a few ill-intentioned ones slipped in? You deal with them often; how is it that now you can’t recall anything?”
The eunuch caught the hint but did not dare speculate recklessly. He stammered, unable to speak.
Fu Man flicked his sleeve in frustration and ordered the old eunuch with the rod to continue. The young eunuch was beaten until blood seeped from his mouth. Clutching the bench, he whimpered, “Stop—stop! Ancestor! I’ll talk!”
Fu Man ignored him.
Swallowing blood, the eunuch said, “That Bureau of Wine, Vinegar, and Noodles… and the Directorate of Imperial Gardens… there were some unfamiliar faces…”
Only then did Fu Man turn slightly, coaxing softly, “You interacted with them?”
The eunuch shook his head frantically, not daring to admit it. He looked up, testing Fu Man’s expression, and cried in a low voice, “I don’t recognize them.”
“If you don’t recognize them, how do you know which bureau they belong to?” Fu Man guided him deliberately. “Someone must have told you.”
“The gatekeepers… in the hall…”
“Tsk.” Fu Man bent down. “Gatekeepers can get near the Crown Prince? Whoever serves him daily knows best.”
The eunuch hardly dared breathe, following his lead. “It’s usually Feng Quan who serves him…”
Fu Man lightly clapped his hands. “There you have it.”
With the case in Fu Man’s hands, the real culprit would never be found. Acting under Han Cheng’s orders, he had planted people inside Li Jianting’s palace. The poison had nothing to do with the Bureau of Wine, Vinegar, and Noodles—the problem lay with the chopsticks used during Li Jianting’s meal that day. When the Crown Prince collapsed, chaos filled the hall; Fu Man had already arranged for a switch, cleaning everything up.
After leaving the hall, before he could exit the courtyard, Fu Man saw several sedan carriers waiting under the locust tree outside. The supervising officials from the Ministry of Justice had just departed. Alarmed, Fu Man lifted his robe and stepped forward with a grin. “Which noble person is looking for me? A word would have sufficed—why come in person? What a coincidence, I still have a case to handle and can’t get away…”
The curtain lifted. Han Cheng sneered. “A few days apart and this dog thinks he can put on airs in front of his master. What, I can’t summon you anymore?”
That damned bastard again!
Fu Man bent obediently. “This servant thought it was those old fools from the cabinet, clinging like sticky plasters and pestering me about the case—I was just annoyed. Who would have thought it was you? As you say, when I see you, it’s like… a fledgling swallow returning to the nest!”
Feigning foolishness, he knew Han Cheng liked this sort of flattery.
Sure enough, Han Cheng’s expression eased. He dropped the curtain and said, “Follow.”
Fu Man cursed all the way in his heart. When they arrived and he saw it was Han Cheng’s private residence, he knew it was about the Crown Prince’s case. He had barely stepped inside before seeing blades gleaming everywhere. Forgetting whatever flattery he had prepared, he dropped to his knees with a thud.
“Look at that courage of yours,” Han Cheng said, pouring tea without letting him rise. “Thinking of becoming another Pan Rugui? You think you’re worthy?”
“Not worthy, absolutely not!” Fu Man braced himself on the ground, forcing a smile. “This servant is just a lowly wretch—how could I compare to the old ancestor? I wouldn’t dare harbor such thoughts.”
Han Cheng set the teapot down. “I told you to poison Li Jianting. What poison did you use?”
Cold sweat seeped down Fu Man’s back. He dared not hesitate. Following the answer he had rehearsed countless times, he said, “As instructed, I used ‘Ji Zhui.’”
“That’s strange,” Han Cheng mocked. “That poison can kill several strong men, yet it couldn’t kill one woman?”
Fu Man felt a chill at the back of his neck—the blade was already there. The muscles in his face twitched. Suddenly he slapped himself, his expression changing as he burst into tears. “Those words pierce this servant’s heart! How would I dare conspire with outsiders to harm my own master? Besides, Xue Yanqing and Kong Qiu look down on eunuchs, treating us like beasts. I truly used ‘Ji Zhui.’ The chopsticks are still there—I wouldn’t dare be careless!”
Half crying, he wiped his tears.
“I’m puzzled too—truly baffled! That was ‘Ji Zhui,’ yet the Crown Prince only vomited a few times and recovered. Isn’t that like seeing a ghost?”
Han Cheng’s face turned ashen. Li Jianting’s life or death would determine the direction of the entire situation. He had even deployed the Eight Camps, betting on the Crown Prince’s certain death—yet Li Jianting survived. The reason the Dancheng case remained unresolved was precisely because investigations would continue. With the Pan clan gone, the next target would be the Helian Hou family—everyone in the seven cities was on edge.
“Did you mention the poisoning to anyone?”
Fu Man hurriedly said, “I wouldn’t dare!”
“You’d better not!” Han Cheng suddenly hurled the teacup. “You’re the one who botched this, and you’ll be the one to clean it up! None of the people in her palace can be spared—take this chance to kill them all.”
If Li Jianting had truly been poisoned with Ji Zhui, she would have died without question. Either someone had swapped the poison, or Fu Man had never used Ji Zhui at all. In any case, none of the attendants in her palace could be left alive—others might be mixed among them.
Eunuchs were cunning. Rootless creatures were the quickest to shift with the wind, and Fu Man was no exception. With the great clans weakened, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t harbor other ambitions. Keeping him alive might prove disastrous.
Han Cheng was inherently suspicious, now like a startled bird. He rose, stepping closer to Fu Man, murderous intent already forming.
Seeing death imminent, Fu Man shouted in desperation, “Grand Secretary ordered me to investigate this case—there is still a way to turn things around! Commander, you need not worry. I will clean everything up. The Ministry of Justice officials are all familiar faces—if anything goes wrong again, I will present my head to you!”
Han Cheng could not truly kill him at this moment. Seeing his pale face and spineless demeanor, he said, “If you fail again, even if I want to spare you, the Empress Dowager won’t. If you want to become an ‘ancestor,’ you’d better have the ability!”
Fu Man repeatedly agreed, still shaken.
While Qu Du lay under endless rain, the battlefield remained clear and bright. The three battalions rotated commanders; today it was Xiao Chiye’s turn at the First Battalion. Lu Guangbai came out of the command tent to greet him. Xiao Chiye removed his helmet and greeted him.
Lu Guangbai leapt up to catch the helmet, eyeing the dent on it. “Hason’s gotten better at using trebuchets than we have.”
Xiao Chiye handed the reins to Chen Yang, standing in place as he removed his arm bindings. “Yesterday the watchtower in the Second Battalion was smashed. Send word to Master—have the military craftsmen head there.”
“Ji Ming has already dispatched a batch of craftsmen this way. If you can’t wait, I’ll have the Bianbo Battalion’s craftsmen fill in.” Lu Guangbai returned the helmet to Chen Yang. “The Third Battalion’s walls have been repaired and collapsed again. Master Qianqiu doesn’t have spare hands for you.”
Xiao Chiye’s skin had darkened under the sun these past days. Watching the fierce hawk circling above the camp, he said, “The number of Biansha cavalry is increasing.”
After Duanzhou’s scorpions were wiped out, Hason began a fierce offensive. It became most evident in the third month—Xiao Chiye noticed Hason was frantically gathering forces in the east. The Biansha cavalry numbers were rising rapidly. Last year, they could only attack with their main force and use spare troops for flanking raids. Now, Hason could split his forces to attack two battalions simultaneously.
“Amur stationed Hason in the north but hasn’t moved south himself,” Lu Guangbai said. “He’s expanding territory deep in the desert, forcing the remaining six tribes to submit. The additional cavalry Hason commands now likely comes from Amur’s reinforcements.”
Xiao Chiye wiped the dust from his face, thoughtful.
“But Hason’s recent attacks have been unstable,” Lu Guangbai continued.
A’chi had been killed by Xiao Chiye. Hason had expected that once Xiao Chiye returned to the battlefield, he would lead the new iron cavalry out beyond the camp walls—but he did not. That meant Hason could not confront Xiao Chiye’s new forces directly. It was as though their positions had reversed. The unknown was an unpredictable danger—Xiao Chiye was taking away Hason’s initiative.
“Hason fights battles he’s certain to win, both north and south,” Xiao Chiye said, flicking his bone ring. “Part of his victories comes from his familiarity with opposing commanders.”
Qi Zhuyin’s battle had proven this. Xiao Jiming had recognized it and disrupted the battlefield’s rhythm. When Hason encountered the Libei cavalry again, he understood what Xiao Jiming was doing.
Xiao Jiming was the kind of commander Hason disliked most—because he neither rushed nor lost pace. He remained perpetually calm. This was both his nature and his style. Knowing he could not defeat Hason outright, he never sought to win in momentum. In recent months, everything he had done was to steady Libei’s rhythm. The cavalry was recovering; even if they could not win, they would no longer be led by the nose.
“Hason grows anxious even at the gates,” Xiao Chiye said in a low voice. “After all, he only wants to win.”
Xiao Jiming was saving the opportunity for Xiao Chiye.
Lu Guangbai looked at him. “Amur has poured his life’s work into Hason. His victory represents Amur’s dignity before the twelve tribes. If he cannot win this battle, he cannot become the future Great Khan.”
Xiao Chiye did not care why Hason wanted to win. He only wanted Hason’s head.
Understanding this, Lu Guangbai did not continue. “Hason’s anxiety also comes from the south. The Grand Marshal has attacked the Qing Shu tribe—they’re under pressure from both sides.”
But was Hason truly anxious because of the northern and southern battlefields?
Xiao Chiye felt that Hason’s recent fierce offensives carried another meaning. Perhaps they were a smokescreen to conceal his true target. Rather than continuing to grind against Libei and Qidong, Zhongbo was the easiest place to strike.
Hason excelled at deception.
Like a wolf crouched in the darkness, Xiao Chiye watched Hason’s every move—his understanding of Hason had already surpassed Hason’s understanding of him.