Chapter 306: A Duel of Wiles (Part 1)

As the rain fell thicker and faster, the last trace of daylight above the standing water died out, leaving only a few dim mining lamps casting blurry halos on the muddy puddles, barely illuminating a corner of the mountain's foot.

From a distance, Xiaolianzi Mountain seemed to slump to one side, like a gaunt, shattered corpse.

The mountain's shadow lay silent, exuding a deathly, stagnant calm.

Zhong Piaoping was recovering from injuries, so Le Wuya had instructed him to rest at the yamen. Le Wuya himself, accompanied by Qin Xingyue, Zhou Wenchang, and a dozen or so clerks and attendants from the yamen, rode out into the rain toward the mine.

At the only entrance to the mine on the official road, a row of grim wooden barricades stood.

Sharp blades gleamed atop the crude tripod frames of thick timber, forming a defensive barrier, with soldiers standing guard nearby.

As Le Wuya's party approached, the guards silently bowed their heads and worked together to move the barricades aside to let them pass.

Zhou Wenchang found this somewhat surprising.

The barricades had been set up to keep passersby from riding into the disaster relief site—a measure meant to maintain order.

But before he'd left, Zhou Wenchang had ordered them taken down.

Now the barricades looked freshly polished—blades gleaming, tung oil glistening with a new sheen under the mining lamps.

Zhou Wenchang mused—perhaps Secretary Lin, ever thorough, had deliberately set them up again to show the censor how orderly Dansui's relief efforts were.

Le Wuya slowed his horse to a walk as he entered, glancing sidelong. He noticed the soldiers at the checkpoint silently moving the barricades back into place, then falling in step, clustering around the rear of the procession.

He exchanged a look with Qin Xingyue.

A classic trap—closing the door to beat the dog.

These soldiers weren't good for much, but they were masters at surrounding and cutting off escape—no doubt practiced on those miners.

Zhou Wenchang kept his eyes fixed ahead, but his hand gripped the reins, knuckles whitening.

...Something was off.

The mood was off, and so were the faces.

He knew nothing of military tactics, but he could smell a conspiracy brewing.

At the foot of Xiaolianzi Mountain, most of the garrison soldiers had gathered, their mud-stained uniforms all darkened to the same shade by the rain.

They'd been standing silent in the rain for a long time.

And they weren't carrying shovels or pickaxes—instead, they carried sabers and clubs.

In the gray mist, their faces were blurred, looking at a glance like row upon row of stone statues.

Beneath his neat official robes and black gauze hat, Zhou Wenchang's hair stood on end.

With no way out and no time to run, he casually dismounted, looked around, and asked, "Where's Secretary Lin?"

The lead soldier gave a slight bow, his voice hard and cold: "He went up the mountain on patrol with Special Envoy Wang."

Zhou Wenchang nodded as if he understood, then quietly murmured a few words to his personal attendant.

The attendant kept his composure and walked off alone.

The soldiers' eyes followed the departing figure, a flicker of hesitation in them: only one man was leaving—should they make their move now?

In that moment of distraction, Zhou Wenchang spoke up: "This is the Left Assistant Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate, Wenren Yue—Surveillance Commissioner Wenren. Why haven't you paid your respects?"

After the soldiers hastily bowed, his tone shifted to a warmth and cordiality that was just right: "Imperial Censor, please look—these are the loyal, brave soldiers guarding the mine. Since the disaster struck, they've labored day and night on the front lines. Without them, these dead souls would still be buried in the mud for who knows how long. Your subordinate was just thinking of petitioning for their merits—could the Imperial Censor report this upward, open the treasury as a grace, and reward them according to their deeds, to comfort these soldiers?"

Le Wuya shot him a meaningful glance.

Zhou Wenchang truly deserved credit for running this whole scheme—his instincts were razor-sharp.

Catching a whiff of blood, he immediately dangled rewards to calm these restless men.

Sure enough, a few soldiers' eyes began to flicker.

Right.

The censor was still in Dansui—even if Magistrate Zhou wanted to silence them, he wouldn't dare slaughter them all right in front of the censor, would he?

Why should they fight to the death with Magistrate Zhou right here?

They could collect their rewards openly and fairly, and even if they planned to slip away later, they'd have some silver to see them through.

Silver—that was always the most practical.

With that thought, some hands on sword hilts gradually loosened their grip.

Others, still wavering, were already starting to regret:

If they'd known it would come to this, why bother tying up Secretary Lin and driving Special Envoys Wang and Ji into Xiaolianzi Mountain?

Now they were in too deep to back out—how was this going to end?

A smile played at the corner of Le Wuya's lips, as if he truly agreed: "Magistrate Zhou speaks well—attentive to the common folk, a model for all. This reward should indeed be given."

Then he changed his tone: "But I wonder if A Shun has any family—some compensation should be sent to them as well. Even if he slipped up in a moment of weakness, he still contributed to this mine. The court can't let hearts grow cold."

At the word "compensation," the soldiers' expressions changed again.

A Shun... dead?

He'd been escorting that captive back to the yamen in good health—how did he die?

No one believed A Shun had just been struck dead by a falling meteorite on the road.

There had to be something more to it!

Tormented by speculation, the squad leader who'd been in charge of A Shun couldn't help but speak up: "May I ask, sir, how... how did A Shun die?"

Le Wuya asked, "And you are?"

The squad leader answered meekly, "Wu Shun was my man."

"He died of heatstroke—his internal organs were nearly cooked. Truly a gruesome sight."

Le Wuya replied lightly, sending a chill through everyone's hearts, then turned to Zhou Wenchang: "Magistrate Zhou, since the heat harms the body, you might have mung bean soup brewed at the foot of the mountain each day and distributed to the brothers. It clears heat and detoxifies—most fitting—and would prevent another incident like A Shun's. Don't you think?"

Zhou Wenchang forced a faint smile, but his cold eyes locked onto Le Wuya without blinking.

He was sure—this Imperial Censor had sensed something too.

He was vying with Zhou Wenchang for these soldiers' allegiance and loyalty.

Under the scrutiny of many sharp-eyed gazes, Zhou Wenchang held up under the pressure, a genial smile back on his face: "The Imperial Censor is benevolent. That was careless of me—I should have thought of that. I'll take care of it right away. A Shun... poor fellow, he was a simple, honest guy, married just last year. His wife works at the Ruixiang Cloth Shop west of Dansui County..."

With that, his smile—partly there, unreadable—swept like a cold needle, slow and silent, across every soldier's face.

Go ahead and make your fuss, but don't forget your families.

At this, many faces went pale, and one by one, heads dropped.

The ones with no family to worry about who might have stepped forward were held back firmly by the men beside them.

Le Wuya, ignoring the small stir in the ranks, gave a slight smile, his eyes narrowing: "Magistrate Zhou is truly meticulous—he's got a clear account of everything in his head."

His gaze swept over the tense faces, calm and unhurried: "No point standing here in the rain. It's pouring out here, and there's a chance of another landslide on Xiaolian Mountain. Is there any man here who knows the terrain and wants to come up with me to take a look? If so, when it comes time to hand out rewards, this little inspection trip can count toward your share."

The soldiers below went rigid, frozen in place.

There's something wrong with that mountain—who'd dare go up there?

Besides, just moments ago, Wang Cheng and Ji Zhun had fought their way back, retreating into Xiaolian Mountain and breaking through the encirclement. The soldiers had only dared to hold the passes like before, sealing off the mountain, trapping the survivors inside, and keeping them from coming down.

They'd sooner die than go back up that mountain themselves.

Seeing their uneasy expressions, Le Wuya smiled: "Aren't Secretary Lin and Special Envoy Wang supposed to be inspecting up there? I'll go and meet up with them."

Zhou Wenchang, reading the looks on their faces and the tension in their bodies, knew these reckless soldiers had probably gone too far. He immediately stepped in to cover for them: "The mountain is extremely treacherous—your life is too valuable to risk in such a dangerous place. I'm not much of a cartographer, but I've drawn a map of the terrain and waterways after the landslide, with all the danger spots clearly marked. Would you care to take a look?"

His words were watertight, and he'd subtly taken the soldiers' side, as if he truly cared about Le Wuya's safety and the men's troubles.

Le Wuya: "Magistrate Zhou is indeed thorough. Let's have a look."

Zhou Wenchang replied with a humble bow: "You flatter me, Your Excellency."

Even if there was nothing strange about the mountain, Zhou Wenchang couldn't let him get the soldiers alone.

He'd already gotten a taste of this man's silver tongue and cunning.

He couldn't give him the chance to divide and conquer!

Le Wuya followed Zhou Wenchang to a nearby thatched shelter out of the rain.

Soon, Zhou Wenchang's trusted attendant brought out the terrain map.

So that's what his earlier orders had been about.

After handing the map to Le Wuya, while he was bent over it studying, Zhou Wenchang whispered something to the attendant.

The attendant went rigid, stared at Zhou Wenchang for a moment with a flicker of panic in his eyes, then bowed and hurried off.

Before Zhou Wenchang could turn around, he heard Le Wuya ask quietly: "What are you sending him off to do now?"

"To deliver a message up the mountain," Zhou Wenchang said casually. "To have Secretary Lin and Special Envoy Wang come down. The rain is coming down hard and dangerous—one careless slip, and they might fall into a ravine. That would be unfortunate."

Many soldiers picked up on the implication in Zhou Wenchang's words.

Indeed, that miner Liang Xiu had hidden on Xiaolian Mountain for so long, only to end up "accidentally slipping" and getting smashed to bits.

On a rainy day, on muddy ground, anything could happen, right?

These soldiers didn't dare leave on their own.

The icy rain soaked through their clothes, but it couldn't put out the fear churning in their chests.

They'd come here ready to fight Zhou Wenchang to the death.

But when it came down to it, these fish—these soldiers—realized they couldn't muster the nerve to die.

If they could just scrape by, cover things up for a while, send the Imperial Censor off, then deal with the witnesses like they'd done with Liang Xiu, collect their rewards, and hide away with their families—that was a way to survive.

But some of them didn't see it that way.

They felt a chill run down their spines.

A special envoy sent by the court, a constable with no rank—killing him was no big deal.

But from the way he talked, Secretary Lin, who'd been with him day and night, could be killed without a second thought?

Then what about them? Weren't they just fish on his cutting board, meat under his knife?

Le Wuya pretended not to notice the undercurrents among the soldiers.

Clearly, Wang Cheng's provocation had worked.

But these soldiers, who'd been eyeing Zhou Wenchang with hostility, ready to sell him out, had been talked down by his smooth words.

Something stirred in Le Wuya's eyes: He needed to break this deadlock, shatter their unbreakable alliance.

Just now, he could have deliberately provoked these soldiers, revealing his knowledge of Xiaolian Mountain's secrets, and pushed them into attacking him.

But he chose not to put himself in danger.

Someone had told him his life wasn't cheap—it was valuable.

Le Wuya's fingertip traced across the map.

These soldiers were so tense, unwilling to go up the mountain with him, which meant Wang Cheng and Xiao Ji were probably safe for the time being.

What he wanted was simple:

Since there were no surviving miners to testify, he'd have to make new witnesses out of the living.

Since the miners' uprising had been quietly suppressed, he'd start another one.

So, with these wavering soldiers, with his own suspicions, with the uneasy uncertainty still lurking on Xiaolian Mountain—what was Zhou Wenchang really after?

He looked up and met Zhou Wenchang's questioning look.

The other man wore his usual smile, with that touch of put-on meekness: "Your Excellency, any instructions?"

Le Wuya: "This map is beautifully made. Magistrate Zhou, you've put real thought into this."

"You're too kind, Your Excellency."

Le Wuya: "Are there any other documents?"

"What would you like to see, Your Excellency?"

Le Wuya's eyes curved in a smile: "If you would, Magistrate Zhou, please bring out the inventory records for all explosives stored in the mines."

Magistrate Zhou Wenchang's smile froze instantly, and that mask of cowardice seemed to crack ever so slightly.

...

As dusk settled and the city of Dansui was on the verge of closing its gates, a convoy of carriages and riders galloped in, heading straight for the county office.

A refined, handsome young man dismounted with ease, presented his token to the guards on duty, and asked in a clear voice: "Excuse me, is Magistrate Zhou in the office?"

Before long, Wen Huan received the summons and, in great alarm, bustled out with Deputy Magistrate Jian in hurried little steps, heedless of the muddy ground, and knelt prostrate with a thud: "This humble examination candidate Wen Huan pays respects to the Sixth Prince!"

Zhi Jie replied in a gentle tone: "Rise."

He explained succinctly: "I oversee matters of the Ministry of Works. The sudden mudslide at Xiaolian Mountain in Dansui falls under the administration of mountain and water resources, so I have petitioned His Majesty for permission to inspect the post-disaster reconstruction efforts."

Having briefly stated his purpose, he pursed his lips and cast his gaze deeper into the office: "Has the Censorate's special envoy from the capital, Wen Ren, been here?"