Daming: Brother, there is no future for monks, let's rebel

Zhu Yuanzhang tapped his fingers lightly on the dragon table, the sound deep and resonant.

"Brother Han, who is the person you want to investigate?"

Zhu Han looked up, his eyes sharp as knives: "The truth."

Zhu Yuanzhang's eyes flashed, and he remained silent for a long time.

"Okay, go ahead and check."

"My brother obeys the order."

These four short words stirred up a silent storm in the hall.

The rain began to fall again, fine as silk. Zhu Han, dressed in black, rode a black horse and left the palace through a secret passage at the Meridian Gate. Zhu Biao accompanied him, not wearing official robes.

"Uncle, where are we going?"

"Go to where he died."

The sound of horses' hooves dampened the bluestone. Outside the Ministry of Justice prison, the wind howled. Zhu Han dismounted and pushed open the unlocked side door.

The courtyard was pitch black, with only the sound of the wind.

"Shen Lu, light the lamp." The firelight illuminated the bloodstains in the corner of the wall.

Zhu Han approached, his fingertips brushing against the bloodstain, and said softly, "Look."

Following the direction he pointed, Zhu Biao saw a single character faintly carved on the wall – “Pardon”.

"Pardon?" Zhu Biao was taken aback.

Zhu Han slowly said, "Before he died, he wrote this character. It is the 'pardon' in 'pardon,' and it can also mean 'proclamation of an imperial edict.'"

"What do you mean?"

"He was pardoned, but died after the pardon."

Zhu Biao's expression changed slightly: "So that means... Father Emperor pardoned him first, and then ordered his execution?"

Zhu Han shook his head: "Perhaps someone is impersonating the emperor."

The wind blew in through the broken wall, extinguishing half a lamp.

Zhu Han said softly, "The person who killed him must have been familiar with palace laws, prison systems, and penal procedures."

Zhu Biao asked in a low voice, "Who in the inner palace can do that?"

"There is only one person—Wu Zhen, the chief steward of the imperial guard."

Zhu Biao's heart skipped a beat. Wu Zhen was Zhu Yuanzhang's most trusted old eunuch, who had been by the emperor's side since he was a boy.

"Uncle, do you want to ask him directly?"

“Asking him is useless.” Zhu Han’s gaze was like iron. “We have to make him reveal his own weakness.”

The following day, the court convened at the Meridian Gate. Zhu Yuanzhang summoned Wu Zhen to the palace to report back.

Wu Zhen was thin and walked slowly as he knelt and kowtowed.

"This servant obeyed the order and disposed of Lan Yu's body the night before, strictly adhering to the law without error."

Zhu Yuanzhang nodded: "Good. You have served me for many years and have never lied to me."

Zhu Han stepped forward slowly, his voice calm: "Does Lord Wu recall anything unusual about Lan Yu's body when he died?"

Wu Zhen was taken aback, then bowed and said, "Your Highness, the body is upright, with a white rope around its neck. The jailer confirmed that it was a suicide by hanging."

"Oh?" Zhu Han smiled. "Then do you know why the mud beneath his feet is so spotless?"

Wu Zhen's expression changed, and he lowered his head, asking, "What does Your Highness mean?"

"I'm asking you—why was the scene cleaned up?"

Zhu Yuanzhang frowned slightly.

Zhu Han approached slowly, his tone unhurried: "You thought burning the body would erase the traces, but you forgot that there is still blood on the beam. That blood flowed backward, not hanging down."

The hall was completely silent.

Wu Zhen's forehead was covered in cold sweat. He looked up to argue, but Zhu Han coldly interrupted him with a single sentence: "Did you do it, or were you acting on someone else's orders?"

Wu Zhen was terrified and knelt down without saying a word.

Zhu Han suddenly drew his short knife and stuck the blade into the crack of the gold brick in front of him, his voice low and deep: "If you don't tell the truth, blood will flow."

Zhu Yuanzhang slowly spoke: "Wu Zhen, I ask you—who gave you permission to move Lan Yu?"

At that moment, Wu Zhen finally broke down, kowtowing repeatedly. "Your Majesty, spare my life! This servant...this servant only carried out a message from the Imperial Concubine, saying that Lan Yu had confessed to palace secrets and could not be spared!"

Zhu Biao's expression changed drastically. Zhu Han asked coldly, "Whose message did the Imperial Concubine receive this time?"

Wu Zhen said in a trembling voice, "She said it was the Emperor's will..."

The entire hall was deathly silent.

Zhu Yuanzhang's fingers slowly tightened. Zhu Han raised his eyes and said softly, "Brother, have you pardoned Lan Yu?"

Zhu Yuanzhang said in a deep voice, "Pardon."

“Then he shouldn’t have died.” Zhu Han’s tone was slow, but every word seemed to carry the weight of iron. “What killed him was not Lan Yu’s crime, but the Consort’s fear.”

Zhu Yuanzhang's expression changed from gloomy to cold, and from cold to furious.

"Guards—bring Lady Chen into the palace!"

A moment later, Consort Chen was brought into the palace. Her face was pale, but she still tried to remain calm.

"Your Majesty," Zhu Han slowly stepped forward, his tone calm, "the death of Lan Yu and the case of Luo Xuan both point to you."

"I am innocent!" Consort Chen cried out. "Lan Yu accused me of stealing jade. I was only trying to save my own life!"

Zhu Biao said coldly, "To protect yourself, you have to kill someone?"

Consort Chen's sobs grew louder: "It was Lord Wu... He said that if Lan Yu were kept alive, it would ruin His Majesty's reputation, and he told me—he told me to order someone to get rid of him..."

Wu Zhen collapsed to the ground, exclaiming, "Your Majesty, it was clearly you who issued the decree!"

Consort Chen screamed: "You're talking nonsense!"

Zhu Yuanzhang was furious and slammed his fist on the table, shouting, "Enough!"

The wind inside the hall seemed to be shaken away as well.

Zhu Han stepped forward, knelt down, and said, "Your Majesty, the truth of this case is now clear. Lan Yu died in a palace coup, and the Consort and Wu Zhen cannot escape their guilt."

Zhu Yuanzhang's hand trembled a few times before he slowly raised it.

"Chen is to be executed."

"Wu Zhen was beaten to death at the Meridian Gate."

The order was given, and the hall fell silent.

As Consort Chen was dragged away, she was still crying out, "Your Majesty—I truly did this for you!"

Zhu Yuanzhang closed his eyes, his voice hoarse: "Take him away."

Zhu Han remained prostrate on the ground, and Zhu Biao remained silent as well.

After a long silence, Zhu Yuanzhang slowly spoke: "Brother Han."

"The minister is here."

"In this palace, no one has dared to speak the truth for too long."

Zhu Han looked up, his eyes calm: "Therefore, your subject is here."

Zhu Yuanzhang looked at him with a complicated expression. After a long while, he said in a low voice, "You are the Zhu family's blade. You killed the filth, but you also tempered the heart."

Zhu Han said in a deep voice, "If the mind is not sharpened, the knife will become dull."

Zhu Yuanzhang turned around, his shadow stretched long by the candlelight, and his voice came softly: "You and the Crown Prince, return to Chengtian tomorrow. I need some peace and quiet."

The morning light was still faint, and the dew in front of the palace gate shimmered white on the stone steps.

The horses exhaled mist from their nostrils, and their armor plates tapped gently against each other beside the saddle, like a bell tolling secretly.

Zhu Han mounted his horse, glanced back at the high wall, and said calmly, "Let's go." Zhu Biao tightened his cloak and rode alongside him, asking, "Uncle, Father has ordered us to return to Chengtian immediately. Do you still have any unresolved issues?"

"If you hold onto a knot in your heart, your path will go astray." Zhu Han gazed at the wind surging out of the city gate. "Don't tie it."

Shen Lu clasped his hands in response and waved for his personal guards to form a line, protecting the front and rear. As the procession exited the Meridian Gate, the morning drum on the city tower sounded for the second time, its echoes rushing from the roof tiles all the way, as if urging them to leave the shadow of the city behind.

A hundred li outside of Jinling (the name of the place is not mentioned here, only the road), the terrain is flat, with withered willows intertwined along the roadside, and winter sparrows occasionally startled into flight, their dark shadows scattering and then gathering again.

The sky was clear and bright, as if sliced ​​by a knife, but the wind was as hard as sand.

“Uncle,” Zhu Biao lowered his voice, “the palace has made everything clear about Lan Yu’s matter, but I always feel like someone hastily covered it up.”

“The tighter you cover it, the harder it is to extinguish the fire.” Zhu Han didn’t even look at him. “When we get to Chengtian, I’ll let the wind blow in.”

"But if the wind gets in, the fire could get bigger."

"So you have to choose the right window." Zhu Han's lips curled up slightly, a smile that was both ambiguous and not quite a smile.

As they were talking, the vanguard suddenly reined in their horses. The scout turned around and whispered, "A section of the Shilingkou ferry crossing ahead has collapsed; it was man-made."

Zhu Han looked up and saw two old locust trees that had been cut down lying on the edge of the shallows in the distance, their trunks blocking the water's surface, and there were also freshly broken pieces of sand on the bank.

When the wind blows, the saw marks on the tree trunk faintly gleam with moisture.

"There's no going around it," Shen Lu said.

"We'll go around, and there will be people waiting." Zhu Han spurred his horse forward, his voice unhurried. "Let's go this way."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a hissing sound came from the grass on the bank, like a snake flicking its tongue. Immediately afterward, a bundle of arrows cut through the wind, heading straight for the horse's head.

"Lie down!" Shen Lu flicked his wrist, pulling Zhu Biao's reins back. He and his horse were already close together. The shields clanged, knocking the first volley of arrows into the water. The front line used their horses as a shield, while the rear line drew their bows with a "click," deflecting the arrows.

In the mist, figures sprang up and then suddenly ducked, a cold glint of a knife flashing across the top of a reed.

"The Jiang'an Knife Gang's movement techniques," Shen Lu sneered. "Dare to stop us here?"

“It wasn’t them.” Zhu Han stared at the opposite bank. “The knife was just borrowed.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he was off the saddle, his toes touching the edge of the guard's shield—like a bird skimming the water—and his second step was already on the fallen locust tree. His shoulder was slightly tilted, and his crescent blade was drawn less than half an inch from its sheath, yet a cold light had already risen.

The two men in black were about to meet them when the half-inch of cold light made their eyelids twitch.

In an instant, before the blade even fell, the two men retreated. Zhu Han twisted his ankle, and with a slight turn of the blade, the bark of the locust tree split open, sending splinters flying straight into the black-clad man's eyes.

"Ah—!" One of them subconsciously raised his hand, revealing the back of his hand—a thin line was etched on his wrist bone, like a burn mark.

A glint flashed in Zhu Han's eyes: "Grip the crossbow wrist."

He didn't chase, but only took half a step back, the blade resting flat against the tree trunk: "Show me another wrist, and I'll know who you are."

Another man in black spoke coldly through the fog: "Your Highness need not pretend not to know. We are here for the Crown Prince; leave the person here, and you will all be able to cross the river safely."

Zhu Biao, who was on the shore, heard this and simply spurred his horse forward, saying in a low voice, "Do you think I'm a commodity?"

The man in black chuckled: "Whether His Highness is a commodity or not is not for you to decide. Today, we only recognize the person."

"You recognize it?" Zhu Han chuckled lightly. "Then you recognize this knife of mine."

As he finished speaking, the blade sank slightly, and the shimmering water seemed to be suppressed inch by inch.

The man in black suddenly froze: "The 'Wild Goose Returns' of the old Huaixi army...where did you learn it from?"

“The guy who beat up your master.” Zhu Han turned his head. “Get lost.”

The man in black paused for a moment, then suddenly whistled a short whistle.

Three short figures suddenly rose from the reeds, carrying their belongings, and retreated. The archers on the shore wanted to give chase, but Zhu Han raised his hand to stop them.

"Tell them to deliver a message." He sheathed his sword. "Tell them that if they want the crown prince, they'll have to pass through my city first."

The man in black gritted his teeth but ultimately didn't go any further.

Several figures disappeared in the wind, as if swallowed by the water.

Shen Lu looked at the two fallen locust trees and asked, "Should we let them go?"

"Keep this line." Zhu Han flipped back onto his horse, his tone indifferent. "Take it back and see whose foot it ends up on."

Zhu Biao was silent for a moment, then spoke in a slightly soft voice: "If I had really fallen into their hands just now—what would Uncle have done?"

"If you fall into the hands of anyone, I'll chop off their hand." Zhu Han said this without any emotion, as if stating a perfectly ordinary fact.

Zhu Biao smiled, his eyes shining brighter as if the wind had blown the water away: "Then I won't go."

As the procession moved, the sun rose high above the treetops, and the weather began to warm up.

The horse left deep and shallow hoofprints on the muddy ground, heading north without turning or dodging, pressing straight ahead.

When the city walls were being built, the banners on the walls stood securely, and the cries of the people selling their wares squeezed through the cracks in the walls, carrying the scent of everyday life.

The city gate official knelt to greet him, but Zhu Han merely raised his hand and said in a flat voice, "Rise, all of you."

"Your Highness," Shen Lu said in a low voice, "I have changed the patrols in the city to one every quarter of an hour."

"Don't change it too tightly," Zhu Han said after a moment's hesitation. "If it's too tight, people's hearts will be thrown into chaos first."

As soon as he stepped into the mansion, a short, stocky figure rushed up to him in the courtyard and kowtowed from several feet away: "Your Highness! It's good that you're back!"

"Zhao Desheng," Zhu Han said with a laugh, "why is your head still so stubborn?"

Zhao Desheng raised his face, his eyes gleaming: "Since the Prince isn't here, I'll be tough. If anyone comes to inquire whether His Highness the Crown Prince is coming back—I'll say, 'He'll come back with a single stroke of the Prince's sword, and a head will roll to the ground!'"

"Who will come to investigate?" Zhu Han asked casually.

“‘Yaxiang’s’ peddler.” Zhao Desheng scratched the back of his head. “He’s keeping his mouth shut. I had someone slap him twice, but he still won’t spit it out.”

"Crow Alley?" Zhu Biao frowned. "That's an unlucky name."

“The street that sells herbs,” Shen Lu said, “also sells other things.”

Zhu Han nodded: "Let's go tonight."

Upon hearing this, Zhao Desheng's eyes welled up with tears of joy: "Your Highness wants me—"

"Stay." Zhu Han glanced at him. "Your face is too familiar. The place I'm going to doesn't recognize faces, it only recognizes footsteps."

He turned to look at Zhu Biao, "Follow me."

Zhu Biao nodded.

At night, the wind from Chengtian was even colder. The city was full of low houses, with blocks of dried peat hanging under the eaves, their sharp edges clearly visible in the moonlight.

"Yaxiang" is located at the end of a sloping alley. The storefront is small, with a string of black straw sandals hanging on the door.

A sliver of light shone through the door, like a cat's eye.

Zhu Han walked ahead, his arms hanging limply, the backs of his fingers touching the seams of his clothes.

Zhu Biao stepped back half a step, keeping his eyes fixed on the shadow beneath his feet—the shadow moved very steadily.

Someone inside asked in a low voice, "What do you want to buy?"

“Buy the grass that Xing grabbed,” Zhu Han replied.

As soon as the latch was released, a wisp of old smoke escaped from the crack in the door. Inside was a thin man with a face like cracked tree bark and red veins in the whites of his eyes.

“Strangers.” He glanced at the two of them and smiled. “The grass you caught while you were awake isn’t worth much. Look at this, you two—” He pulled out a cloth bag from the bottom of the cabinet, opened it, and inside was fine black powder, like the ash after rain.

"What is this?" Zhu Biao asked.

“‘Returning Soul’,” the man smiled without showing his teeth, “blowing on the pillow, like pulling someone out of a dream and then putting them back in. A peaceful death.”

Zhu Biao's heart sank: "How long are you going to sell this?"

"Why are you talking about this? I won't stop you if you don't want to buy it." The man tapped his knuckles on the counter. "One tael of silver for a packet, it'll work."

"Luo Xuan..." Zhu Han suddenly spoke up, "Do you know him?"

The man's hand stopped. After a brief pause, he slowly resumed knocking: "I don't know him."

“His throat was cut,” Zhu Han’s voice was neither loud nor soft, “but he still smells of this.” He pointed to the packet of black powder, his gaze indifferent.

The man's smile froze: "You're joking."

"I don't joke with dead people." Zhu Han stepped forward, gently placing his hand on the counter. "But you, who do you want to play with tonight?" (End of Chapter)