Gale-force winds whipped up muddy waves on the Tongzhou river, rain hammering the ground until it shattered into a misty white spray.
Third Master Tie and his hundred or so blade-wielding men scrambled back to a street corner dragging themselves, not daring to look back once.
On the gangway before the Tongjin Sluice Gate, the atmosphere was so thick with tension it felt ready to drip.
Lu Wenzhao was still lost in wild fantasies about all the cunning schemes Xu Youde and his son had supposedly cooked up.
If Xu Wuyou had any clue what this accountant was imagining, he’d surely burst out laughing on the spot.
At this moment, he finally understood just how his younger sister felt when she was stuck up in the northern borderlands—there was truly nothing quite like the sweet pleasure of grinding arrogant fools who thought themselves clever under your heel!
Just then, from deep within the thick fog over the river, came a sudden, dull blast of a horn.
A three-story-tall tower ship forged ahead against the wind and waves, bulling its way through the small skiffs scattered across the water, bearing straight down on the dock.
At its prow flew a tall black-gold banner nearly ten feet long, whipping and cracking in the storm, bearing the two bold characters: “Tong Ji.”
The heavy wooden gangplank was dropped onto the stone quay, sending puddled water splashing in every direction across the gangway.
A dozen or so men dressed in Tong Ji attire, red sashes tied around their waists, charged down first, positioning themselves in two neat rows, standing ramrod straight.
Then came an elder, around sixty years old, with a sturdy frame, stepping down the gangplank.
He wore a dark gold waterproof cloak patterned with the longevity character pattern, his stride brisk and fierce. In his hands he spun a pair of century-old lion-head walnuts—masterpieces of fine, tight closure—their bones clicking together, “ka-ka,” as clear and cutting through the rain curtain as if right beside your ear.
This was the man who had ruled the Tong Ji Waterways Guild for thirty years as their Supreme Guild Chief: Lei Zhen.
He stood stock-still at the center of the gangway, broad and imposing, carrying himself with the old-school swagger of a river lord who needed no harsh words to inspire awe.
Behind Lei Zhen came Hall Master Chen of the Fragrant Water Sect, along with heavyweights from several other branches—an undeniable show of force.
He ambled unhurriedly to the middle of the gangway, his murky old eyes sweeping past Lu Wenzhao before fastening like hooks on Xu Wuyou, who stood on the stone steps, sheltered under an umbrella.
“Hall Master Xu, you put on quite the show of authority.”
Lei Zhen spoke as he turned the lion-head walnuts in his hands.
“I’ve held sway on this stretch of the Tongzhou river for thirty years. I pay homage to our forefathers. I live by the code of precedence and rank — be it of the sect or of the world!”
He took one stride forward, his walnuts freezing mid-turn, and his voice cut straight through the rain-soaked air: “Your Water Range Hall is one of the six divisions under our Tong Ji Waterways Guild. Yet you bypassed the Council Hall, reported to no Guild leadership, and lowered the Tongjin Sluice Gate without authorization!”
Lei Zhen pointed a finger straight at Xu Wuyou’s face. “Defying your elders, transgressing the chain of command, cutting off the lifeblood of your own brothers! The death sentence for breaking guild protocol—can a green boy like you carry that weight?!”
This tirade came armed with age and experience first, then traps woven from guild rules designed to entangle.
Any ordinary hall master, confronted so publicly by the Guild Chief like this, would have weighed his options carefully.
Xu Wuyou didn’t even raise an eyelid.
He brushed a few specks of rain from his sleeve, turned his head slightly, and took from Lao Zhou the ledgers of the Huitong Silver Exchange Account.
Without a single unnecessary word, Xu Wuyou flicked his wrist.
The ledger book cut a sharp arc through the air.
It landed with uncanny precision in a puddle right before Lu Wenzhao’s boots.
Muddy water splashed up, spattering Lu Wenzhao’s head and face.
His face twitched violently, eyes glued to the sopping book, but he couldn’t bring himself to bend over and pick it up.
“Protocol?” Xu Wuyou laughed — a dry, cutting sound. “Guild Chief Lei wants to talk about rules? Then let’s first talk about how your Senior Accountant Lu here has violated the imperial law of the court.”
Lei Zhen, finding himself as the dignified guild chief completely ignored and publicly humiliated, felt his rage surge.
The motion of rotating the walnuts in his hand stopped. “You pull out some unknown, fake ledger from who knows where and try to sling mud on the brothers of the guild? Xu Wuyou, do you really think the Tongji River Guild is your Xu family’s private backyard, to be twisted and toyed with as you please?”
“The three-year-old master ledger from Huitong Silver House,” Xu Wuyou said, utterly ignoring Lei Zhen’s roar, his voice clear and sharp as a blade.
“In the ninth month of Yongtai’s seventeenth year, the old seal of Guangyi Commercial Firm withdrew forty thousand taels of silver; in the twelfth month of the eighteenth year, the Shang family’s annual tribute deposit was redeemed for one hundred thousand taels. This silver, laundered through the bank, ended up in the cellar beneath Lu Wenzhao’s private estate south of the city.”
Xu Wuyou stepped forward, his gaze boring into Lu Wenzhao’s face like an awl.
“That money was originally the illegally embezzled fortune of Minister of Revenue Shang Qitai. Lu Wenzhao, in the gap you exploited while laundering money for the Shang mansion, you managed to pry these hundred thousand-plus taels of silver straight from your master’s grasp.”
“What boldness. Truly, what boldness.”
As these words fell, the only sound on the dock was the rain hammering the ground.
Hall Master Chen of the Fragrant Perfume Hall, standing behind Lei Zhen, felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and cold sweat pour out when he heard the phrase “Shang family’s annual tribute deposit.”
In the past few days, Lu Wenzhao had frequently visited the various halls, promising heavy bribes to win them over, claiming he wanted to reorganize the guild.
Just two days earlier, Hall Master Chen had accepted two thousand taels of silver notes Lu Wenzhao sent as a token of respect.
He had originally thought this pedantic scholar had scraped together some private savings to climb the ranks. He never imagined the banknotes used to curry favor with the hall masters were actually the Shang family’s death warrant money!
Hall Master Chen’s head buzzed as he suddenly grasped the trick of it all.
Lu Wenzhao had taken the Shang family’s dirty money to buy goodwill. If the Imperial Police launched an investigation, the whereabouts of these hundred thousand taels of embezzled silver would fall squarely on the shoulders of the hall masters who had taken the money, making them scapegoats!
Lu Wenzhao had been using them all as sacrificial lambs to shield himself from the government’s executioner’s blade!
Looking back up at Xu Wuyou on the high platform, Hall Master Chen felt his legs go weak.
The Xu father and son were too ruthless!
While Xu Youde pushed for the four-seal joint verification policy and abolished old seals in the imperial court, Xu Wuyou held his forces still in Tongzhou, allowing Lu Wenzhao to freely spread his bribes everywhere.
Hall Master Chen’s hand on his knife handle trembled, and he ground his teeth in fury.
Lu Wenzhao staggered, his lips turning pale, as he pointed at Xu Wuyou and roared.
“Slander! This ledger is forged! I have been loyal and devoted to the guild—you can’t use such despicable tricks to drive a wedge between brothers!”
“Loyal?” Xu Wuyou pointed toward the two large ships forced to drop anchor in the river’s middle.
“The two ships, Zhenhai and Polang—supposedly needing hull repairs—are drawing water three and a half feet deep! Where is that hundred thousand taels of silver they carry supposed to be shipped?”
Xu Wuyou struck where it hurt most: “Lu Wenzhao, you saw the Shang mansion on the verge of collapse, so you planned to abandon these brothers who risked their lives for you to take the blame in the capital, while you pocket the stolen silver and flee south to live comfortably as a wealthy retiree!”
Lu Wenzhao’s legs nearly buckled, and he stood rigid in the wind and rain.
All his dirty little schemes had been stripped bare in public by Xu Wuyou, flesh and bone laid open.
Hall Master Chen could no longer hold back. He yanked his steel blade half from its sheath, spat a bloody wad of saliva in Lu Wenzhao’s direction, and without hesitation, took three big steps backward.
The other hall heads and leaders exchanged glances, then followed suit, stepping back as well.
In just a few breaths, the gang members who had crowded around Lu Wenzhao scattered completely.
Lu Wenzhao stood alone in the wind and rain, with no one around him.
He turned to look at the hall masters, who looked as though they could devour his flesh, yet he could no longer muster any particular hatred in his heart.
After scheming for half a lifetime, in the end, not a single person remained to block a blade for him.
His legs gave way, and Lu Wenzhao collapsed completely into the muddy water.
Lei Zhen, watching the situation spiral out of control before him, could no longer maintain his composure.
He, the Guild Chief of the Tongji Grain Transport Guild, had men under him pocketing huge sums of money, forming factions, and even planning to abscond with the funds.
And he had been kept completely in the dark, a total fool.
In a desperate bid to salvage the last shred of dignity as the supreme chief, Lei Zhen gritted his molars and raised a finger, pointing at Lu Wenzhao in the mud. "Men! Seize this disloyal wretch! According to guild law, three cuts through his vitals, then stuff him in a pig cage and sink him in the river!"
Just as a few loyal men were about to roll up their sleeves and step forward, Xu Wuyou raised his hand, coldly cutting off their words.
"Guild Chief Lei, take a rest," Xu Wuyou said, looking down at Lei Zhen from on high with undisguised pity in his gaze. "Of the timber holding up your seat as supreme chief, how many sound beams are left?"
Lei Zhen glared at Xu Wuyou, his broad chest heaving violently. "What do you mean by that! I’m cleaning house within the guild—since when do you have the right to meddle?"
"Shang Qitai has overseen the Ministry of Revenue for twelve years. In those twelve years, half of the Tongji Grain Transport Guild’s hall masters have been replaced, and every account manager has become a lackey of the Shang household."
Xu Wuyou took two steps down the stairs, closing in on Lei Zhen.
"In the fifteenth year of Yongtai, the Southern Granary leak; in the seventeenth year, the grain loss at Baima Ferry—every single incident was handled by them bypassing you directly. That dragon-head throne of yours has long been hollowed out by worms."
"Every day, beyond lighting incense before the founder’s shrine, what boat can you still dispatch, what single tael of silver can you withdraw?"
Every word struck home like a dagger.
Hit in his fatal weakness, Lei Zhen’s aged face turned purple as liver.
Of course, he knew he had been marginalized, but he had always relied on his seniority to maintain a false pretense of dignity, hoping those under him would still spare him some face.
Now, that last fig leaf had been torn away by Xu Wuyou in public, leaving him not even a shred of decency to cover himself.
"You... you..." Lei Zhen’s finger trembled as he pointed at Xu Wuyou, so furious he couldn’t even speak properly.
