The night was deep, inside the study of the Minister of Revenue's mansion.
Shang Qitai sat upright in a grand armchair, holding a Jian ware hare's fur teacup in his hand.
Kneeling below was a precinct chief of the Tongji Shipping Guild, trembling as he reported, without missing a word, everything that had happened at the Tongzhou docks.
When he heard that Qian Zhongwen had personally written an IOU and stamped it with the Grain Bureau's official seal, Shang Qitai's fingers paused slightly as he stirred the tea foam.
"Eight thousand taels of compensation silver, over a hundred crippled soldiers, and forcing a ranking official into submission on the street." Shang Qitai showed no sign of the expected thunderous rage; instead, he let out an abrupt, short laugh. "What a masterstroke—staking everything on a desperate gamble. This fellow Xu not only strikes ruthlessly but also knows how to ride the currents."
"I thought he was just a brute who only knew how to use force. I truly underestimated him."
The precinct chief broke out in a cold sweat and kowtowed cautiously. "My lord, Chief Clerk Qian is being escorted to the capital. If he can't withstand the torture in the Three Judicial Ministries and spills the guild's secrets..."
"He's already a dead man." Shang Qitai took a light sip of tea. "The pawn Qian Zhongwen is spent, but this game of chess is far from over."
"Since young Master Xu likes to ride the currents, I'll lend him that very force—and use it to stoke a wicked fire that will reduce the entire Xu family to ashes."
He set down his teacup and fixed his gaze on a shadow lurking in the dark corner of the study. "The warehouse scribe from Tongzhou docks—has he been brought in?"
The shadow bowed its head. "My lord, he's already locked in the cellar of the western courtyard."
Shang Qitai's eyes were as calm as an ancient well. "The embezzlement case would be a hassle under joint trial by the Three Judicial Ministries. So let's turn it into a factional struggle."
"Go. Qian Zhongwen is finished. Use a dead man to set the trap."
In the western courtyard cellar, it was cold and damp.
The Grain Bureau's warehouse scribe was tied hand and foot to a wooden stake, a rag stuffed in his mouth. He stared in terror as several expressionless black-clad assassins approached, carrying food boxes.
When the boxes opened, they held no food, but a bowl of pitch-black aconite poison, reeking of bitter almonds, and a white muslin inner garment.
"Mmph... mmph!" The scribe struggled desperately, his pupils dilating from sheer terror.
Without a word, the assassin pinched the scribe's jaw, pried open his teeth, and forced the bowl of poison down his throat.
In mere moments, the scribe's eyes rolled back, and gouts of black blood gushed from his mouth and nose.
His body slumped like a mud doll drained of its bones, leaving only faint, weakening spasms.
Another assassin swiftly spread out the white garment, grabbed the scribe's hand while it was still warm, and smeared it with the black blood pouring from his mouth.
Holding the scribe's finger, the assassin inscribed characters on the garment—the strokes were harsh, twisted, and ghastly.
"The Xu clan is overbearing, murdering officials in cold blood. Soldiers are framed, and I die with resentment."
After writing these sixteen chillingly stark characters, the assassin pressed the scribe's fingerprint—smeared in blood—firmly at the end.
Everything was perfectly orchestrated, with a merciless precision.
The next morning, the dust-laden Complaint Drum in front of the Shuntian Prefecture office was sounded.
The drumbeats fell like a sudden rainstorm, startling the entire street.
The Prefect of Shuntian hastily convened court, only to find kneeling below several women and children dressed in mourning white. They were the family of the Tongzhou Grain Bureau's warehouse scribe.
The woman leading them raised high that bloodstained inner garment, now a dark brown, and her piercing wail cut through the air:
"Great magistrate, seek justice! Xu Wuyou, master of the Water Transport Hall of the Tongji Shipping Guild, allowed his savage soldiers to murder a government clerk! My husband refused to collude in corruption and was silenced! This blood-letter is our cry for justice! Great magistrate, seek justice!"
The blood garment billowed open in the wind, those sixteen blood-red characters like a sharp steel blade, stabbing straight into the heart of the capital's political vortex.
Like wings on the wind, the news spread through every government office in the capital within half an hour.
Shang Qitai's scheme was precise and deadly.
The embezzlement case required evidence. But a "martial man persecuting a scholar" factional storm only needed to stir up emotions.
The civil officialdom of the Great Dry Empire bore a deep, instinctive wariness and contempt toward military men and hereditary lords.
Now, the Xu father and son had not only overstepped their authority to detain a Revenue official but had also allegedly driven a clerk to his death. In the eyes of the civil officials, this was sheer, outrageous insolence.
The Censorate erupted.
Led by Liu Zhao, a group of purist censors, their nerves already frayed from recent gossip-mongering, were inflamed by the sight of that blood-written garment, and their indignation flared.
"Xu Youde, a mere Vice Minister overseeing grain finances, dares to indulge his family's criminal bastards to frame colleagues and commit murder under the emperor's very nose!" Liu Zhao slammed his palm on the desk, his eyes bloodshot.
An old censor beside him shook with rage. "The martial men are so overbearing! If they are not severely punished, where is the rule of law?! Where is the Way of governance?!"
Liu Zhao wrote furiously, the tip of his brush nearly tearing through the paper.
In barely an hour, the censors' impeachment memorials against Xu Youde and his son piled up in the Office of Transmission like a small mountain.
The charges escalated from "extrajudicial murder of officials" and "consorting with savage soldiers" all the way to "plotting rebellion."
Outside the capital, at the Water Transport Hall headquarters.
"Big Boss! Something huge has happened! That warehouse scribe from Tongzhou died last night! His wife took a blood garment to the Shuntian Prefecture this morning and accused us of driving her husband to his death! Now those censors in the city are biting at us like madmen, demanding you and your father be thrown in chains and imprisoned!"
Xu Wuyou's hand, wiping a blade, paused. The steel reflected back a pair of icy eyes.
He listened quietly, without slamming the table in anger. Instead, he let out a laugh that was bitterly cold.
"Fine work, Shang Qitai. Fine work, you old fox." Xu Wuyou stood up and sheathed his saber with a clang. "I used eight thousand taels and a bright stratagem to cut off his retreat. He counterattacks with a single human life as a shadow play, churning this whole pond into mud."
"Boss, what do we do? Those penniless literati are impeaching us with everything they've got—they'll drown us in spit alone!" Pang Yu paced about nervously.
"Even darker than me." Xu Wuyou took a deep breath, a cruel glint flashing in his gaze. "Since he's discarded all decency, let's not play this as a civil opera anymore."
"Pang Yu, saddle a fast horse. Send this news immediately to my father."
"Tell him our opponent has tipped the table over. Tell him to get his coffin money ready."
At noon, the sun blazed fiercely.
Inside the study of the Earl Chengyi's mansion.
Xu Youde's hands trembled slightly as he read the secret note delivered from the city outskirts.
Shang Qitai, that old villain's heart, was black beyond measure.
Throwing away a pawn wasn't enough—he had to weaponize a dead man, twisting a solid corruption case into a death-game factional struggle where the Xu family was accused of driving an innocent official to his death.
If this charge was made to stick, not even the emperor could save the Xu family.
"My Lord..." Butler Xu Fu stood beside Xu Youde, not daring to breathe too loudly as he watched his master's pallid face.
In the bottomless mire of court intrigue, this self-proclaimed "corrupt official" who had stumbled into his career on luck was tasting, for the first time, the metallic reek of death's approach.
His opponent had never intended to back down. His opponent had drawn his blade and come for the life of everyone in the Xu family!
Boom!
Xu Youde straightened up. The face that usually wore a fawning, mercantile smile was now twisted into a mask of demon-like savagery.
“Fine... fine, Shang Qitai!” Xu Youde gritted his teeth. “You schemed over the army grain, and I held back! You set traps to frame me, and I held back! Now you want my son’s life to cover up that dirty ledger of yours in the Ministry of Revenue?”
“Do you really think I, the Earl Chengyi, am made of mud? Do you really think I wouldn’t dare to fight you to the death?!”
The next day, at the crack of dawn.
Outside the Meridian Gate of the Great Qian Forbidden City.
Civil and military officials gathered in small clusters beneath the jade steps, waiting for the morning court bell to ring.
That day, the air carried a stifling, murderous tension.
The censors were all rubbing their hands together, their gaze every now and then shooting like poison-tipped arrows toward Xu Youde, who stood alone at the edge of the crowd.
Xu Youde still wore that slightly ill-fitting crimson second-rank official robe, hands tucked into his sleeves, back hunched.
As always, he wore that simple-minded, even timid smile on his face.
Just then, a steady set of footsteps approached.
Shang Qitai, the Minister of Revenue, walked slowly into the square, surrounded by a group of his subordinates.
He wore a first-rank official robe embroidered with a crane, his expression solemn and sorrowful, like a loyal minister and good general who mourned the loss of a vital pillar but still cared for the realm.
Spotting Xu Youde, Shang Qitai stopped, waved his attendants away, and walked over alone.
“Vice Minister Xu,” Shang Qitai said in a very low voice, laced with feigned regret. “I’ve heard about the case at Shuntian Prefecture. That boy Wuyou—after all, he’s still young and hotheaded. We’ve served as court officials together for years. If there’s anything I can do to mediate before the Emperor, just say the word.”
Every word of this speech feigned concern, but every syllable was a deadly thrust. The implied message: your son is doomed, your Xu family is finished.
Xu Youde straightened up slightly. That old face, always tinged with a touch of vulgarity and cowardice, suddenly leaned close to Shang Qitai.
Their gazes clashed fiercely in the cold wind of dawn.
In a voice only the two of them could hear, Xu Youde clapped Shang Qitai on the shoulder with calculated familiarity.
“Lord Shang, the chess game you’ve played is truly ruthless.”
Shang Qitai’s eyes turned cold. “Vice Minister Xu, watch your words. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Xu Youde let out a low chuckle. He reached out and brushed some dust from Shang Qitai’s official robe, his tone as casual as if he were discussing what to eat for breakfast.
“You don’t need to understand. I just wanted to remind you, Lord Shang —”
Xu Youde took a half-step back, bowing slightly, but a savage gleam blazed in his eyes like a hungry wolf.
“When the morning court starts, Lord Shang, don’t you dare blink.”
