Seeking Truth with a Sword

Chapter 713 - 643 Blood Mist

Standing atop the stone steps, Cui Yixian halted his advance and surveyed the temple before him.

White brick, cyan tile, vermillion eaves; the door handles bore two copper rings tinged with verdigris. Behind the hollowed wooden window lattices, a layer of yellowed paper was pasted. It appeared no different from an ordinary temple, except for that invisible barrier that blocked all Spiritual Sense and sound.

"..."

Cui Yixian stood still. Chen Danqiu was right inside the door—a mere knock away, and the future of the Cui Family, the Academic Palace, Yu Country, and indeed the whole world would shift.

"What’s wrong?"

A voice arose from behind. Cui Yixian turned to behold a smiling Xi Yangyu, who patted the proud head of a stone lion and said leisurely, "Sword Cultivators ought to be resolute and bold, striving forward with a keen spirit. Hesitation and dithering like this is uncharacteristic of you."

Cui Yixian’s face was as expressionless as a still, ancient well. "...What are you trying to say?"

"I am saying," Xi Yangyu became solemn, "no matter what choice you make, brother, be sure it is truly what your heart desires. You’re a peerless Sword Cultivator; there isn’t anyone who can force you."

What does he mean?

Cui Yixian stared into Xi Yangyu’s earnest face, his gaze intensifying.

The Cui Family had long hoped Cui Yixian would take over from Lian Xuanyao as the Mountain Master and had urged him many times, both overtly and covertly. He had put aside all these promptings.

The document announced today was likely released by the Cui Family; having grown impatient, they had decided to force the issue.

Could it be—has Xi Yangyu guessed something?

Not far away, the flickering flame of a stone lamp before Lian Xuanyao’s grave illuminated the two men standing in silent confrontation.

DANG DANG DANG—

Twenty bell chimes rang out from the bell tower of the Academic Palace.

The time was Hai Zheng.

————

In the underground prison of the Ministry of Justice, a disheveled, middle-aged prisoner clung to an iron window set slightly above the outside ground, silently counting the bell chimes.

Twenty rings—it was time.

He jumped back onto his bed, took a deep breath, and with his purplish-black fingernails, lightly knocked on the bed’s edge, creating a rhythmic sound.

"At dusk, I lodge at Stone Pit Village; an officer comes at night to seize men."

"An old man climbs the wall to flee; his old wife goes out to see."

The poetry recited in the dead of night awakened the other prisoners; cursing and the thudding of feet kicking against walls erupted.

The prison guards resting in the guard post at the entrance also heard the disturbance and hurried over, brandishing their Water and Fire Sticks.

"How furious the officer’s call! How bitter the woman’s tears!"

"Listen to the woman’s lament; her three sons guard Ye City."

Another prisoner also began to knock on his bed frame, reciting poetry in response. Then a third, and a fourth...

"Shut up! Do you want a beating?!"

The guards, hearing the growing chant, their expressions turning exceedingly grim, stood in the corridor and shouted angrily.

This "Stone Pit Officer" was composed by Du Gongbu after witnessing the tragic scenes of war and the people’s destitution. There was nothing inherently wrong with the poem itself. However, Haotian believers had recently begun using it to attack the Yu Kingdom’s Court, implying that the Yu Country’s extensive conscription was causing widespread unrest, effectively turning it into a "rebellious poem."

Song Shaoyuan, having also heard the commotion, stepped into the prison. His gaze swept across the cells on both sides and settled on an elderly man with gray hair. He couldn’t help but frown and ask, "Zhang Xinghuai, why are you involved in this too? You could have been released in just two more months. Why bother getting mixed up in this?"

The elderly man whose name was called shrank his neck. He was a political prisoner, a remnant from the Holy Empress’s era. Technically, he was only an accomplice and hadn’t committed any actual atrocities. However, he had been kept imprisoned because a powerful figure outside did not wish to see him freed.

That powerful figure had died of illness a few months ago, and the Ministry of Justice no longer had a reason to keep him detained, planning to release him in due course.

Years in prison had worn away all of Rui Xinghuai’s sharp edges. He leaned against the wall, head bowed, and spoke softly, "Chief Secretary Song, our relationship... it’s been alright, hasn’t it?"

"It’s been fine."

Song Shaoyuan nodded. Zhang Xinghuai’s crime hadn’t been severe, so his treatment was much better than that of other prisoners. He could not only read and write in his cell but was also frequently allowed above ground. While shackled, he would assist the clerks with processing documents.

"Then why are you approving my release?"

Zhang Xinghuai’s voice seemed to come from afar. He slowly turned his head, his face disappearing into the shadows. "I’ve been imprisoned for most of my life and no longer remember what it feels like to live outside.

"No one outside recognizes me. No one remembers that I was once the distinguished Advanced Scholar and Guanglu Doctor—I, who even had the honor of being close to the Holy Empress’s phoenix bed.

"Here, I am the respected Mr. Zhang. Outside, I’m just a useless old man with no family or friends.

"Tell me, why are you approving my release?"

Song Shaoyuan was at a loss for words; he could understand Zhang Xinghuai’s predicament but was powerless to help.

"Chief Secretary Song, you are a good man."

Struggling to stand, Zhang Xinghuai braced himself against the bed and shuffled to the cell door. Staring intently at Song Shaoyuan, he whispered, "Run!"

Run from what...?

Before his thoughts could fully form, Song Shaoyuan saw Zhang Xinghuai’s fingers rapidly swell, followed by his arms, shoulders, chest, abdomen...

Zhang Xinghuai, along with the other thirty-odd Haotian believers imprisoned in various cells who were all chanting "Stone Pit Officer" at the top of their lungs, swelled to their limits.

"Haotian above!"

The faces of the Haotian believers twisted, their eyes nearly bursting from their sockets, yet they still screamed themselves hoarse, praying.

Then, the explosion.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!!!

The shockwave instantly tore through the iron bars of the cell doors, and the solid prison crumbled like a sandcastle.

A fierce wind whipped up sand and stone, and the intense light seared his eyes. Song Shaoyuan only remembered someone pushing him before he was sent flying into a wall.

"Chief Secretary Song! Chief Secretary Song!"

The prison guard’s loud shouts pulled Song Shaoyuan back to consciousness. He groggily opened his eyes to see clear moonlight illuminating the isolated, crumbling ruins. Guards and inmates, dead or grievously wounded, lay amidst the rubble, wailing in agony.

Ignoring how this disaster might affect his future career, Song Shaoyuan, clutching his bleeding forehead, was helped to his feet by a prison guard. He then looked to one side.

Chief Clerk Liu—who had asked for his help earlier that day and had just pushed him to safety—had taken the full force of the explosion. He was now a mangled, decapitated corpse, identifiable only by his clothes.

Sorrow spread through Song Shaoyuan’s heart, followed by anger and confusion.

The Ministry of Justice Prison, like other important institutions, was protected by Prohibitions against Magic and equipped with fine dogs for detection.

How had these Haotian believers managed to circumvent all defenses and orchestrate an explosion?

SHH...

A fine, rustling sound, like falling raindrops, rose from the cracks in the broken bricks and tiles.

The survivors stood dumbfounded, staring at the rubble beneath their feet from which the strange sounds continued to emanate.

In the next moment, the flesh and blood of all the prisoners who had died in the self-detonations swiftly evaporated. It atomized into a vapor that rose from between the bricks and tiles, coalescing into a dense cloud of blood mist.