Chapter 307: Magical Duel (Part 2)

Wang Su hinted that Zhou Wenhuan should find a way to deal with Le Wuya, naturally aiming to downplay things and not dwell on how formidable Le Wuya's backing truly was.

His close ties with the Sixth and Seventh Princes, with General Dingyuan, with the son of the First-Rank Dragon Tiger General, and with the current new Zhuangyuan—these were, of course, things to steer clear of mentioning.

As for Jie Jitong, who had succeeded Le Wuya as Grand Secretary, Zhang Wenyuan of the Court of Judicial Review, and Provincial Judge Zheng Miao—they also treated him quite warmly.

Better to leave such connections unmentioned.

Though Zhou Wenhuan was a Changmen Guard with more inside knowledge than most, his reach only extended to the surrounding prefectures and counties.

Thus, he was completely caught off guard:

Wasn't this man named Wen Ren just like him—someone who'd failed the imperial exams and only gotten his post by buying grain?

Hadn't he climbed the ladder by stepping on colleagues, exposing their faults, and grabbing at their weaknesses?

The way the Sixth Prince talked about him—that look, that tone—how... how...

Zhou Wenhuan couldn't articulate it clearly, but a cold dread shot straight to the top of his head.

This was bad.

His elder brother was easygoing, hesitant, and had dragged his feet on taking care of Wen Ren Yue; now with a Sixth Prince backing him, how were they supposed to handle this?

In the dim lantern light, Zhi Jie could see the sweat beading on his nose and his face going pale. It was like he had a bit in his mouth and couldn't speak. Zhi Jie's heart also went cold.

Deputy Magistrate Jian, not knowing what was going on, replied, "Your Highness, Surveillance Commissioner Wenren went with Magistrate Zhou to check out the site at Xiaolian Mountain."

Zhi Jie pushed down the faint unease in his chest: "Surveillance Commissioner Wenren has always been diligent, working around the clock, just like always."

Praising his teacher first was never a bad move.

Deputy Magistrate Jian had a look of "how do I even say this": "..." Diligent?

Then who was the one sprawled out at the inn, dead asleep for two whole days?

...

Le Wuya, who'd been on the road for days without a decent rest, still had blazing eyes and showed no sign of fatigue.

The drizzle turned into bean-sized raindrops, pounding against the oilcloth stretched over the shed.

Zhou Wenchang's expression shifted for only a moment.

Soon, he pulled himself together—so fast that even Le Wuya had to admire it.

From the very bottom of the tall pile of ledgers, he pulled one out and handed it to Le Wuya: "Imperial Censor, this is the record of gunpowder stored at the Xiaolian Mountain mine. Please take a look."

Le Wuya didn't reach for it.

He looked at Zhou Wenchang and only said, "What's on paper doesn't mean anything. Important things need to be seen with your own eyes to be believed. Where's the gunpowder stored? Take me there."

A mudslide could be an act of nature, or it could be man-made.

The disaster happened at the mine, and the most likely human cause of a mudslide would be improper storage of explosives.

When he'd left the capital, Le Wuya had already thought of this.

That was why he'd traveled at lightning speed, racing against the clock—to minimize the chance for local officials to cook the books.

Gunpowder was a matter of military significance, not easy to buy in bulk; it could only be stockpiled bit by bit, like ants moving a mountain, and was the hardest thing to replace.

Hearing this, Zhou Wenchang looked troubled: "Imperial Censor, I'm afraid that won't work."

"Why?"

"The explosives are all up on the mountain, now buried under the mudslide. I'm afraid they'll be hard to find for a while. Please give us some leeway, let us take our time digging them out. I'm just worried that with all the water and mud, most of them might already be ruined. When the time comes, I'll file a formal report with the prefecture for write-off, making sure all the paperwork is in order. You need not worry, sir."

"So you're saying there could be another explosion?"

"What do you mean, 'another'?" Zhou Wenchang's smile was fawning, but he was quick on his feet: "Yunxing doesn't understand what you mean, Imperial Censor."

Le Wuya looked at him quietly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth: "Magistrate Zhou, you really impress me."

Facing Le Wuya's loaded praise, Zhou Wenchang looked genuinely confused: "Imperial Censor, Yunxing is slow-witted and really doesn't get what you mean..."

Le Wuya saw right through it.

He wasn't slow. He was too smart for his own good.

Zhou Wenchang had no intention of accounting for the "missing explosives."

He planned to pass it all off as a "natural disaster."

If that didn't work, he'd blame "human error."

The only thing Zhou Wenchang hadn't expected was that Le Wuya, without asking about anything else, would go straight to demanding to see the explosives—his gaze seeming to see right through his schemes. That made his heart skip a beat.

But no matter—there was still time.

He'd already planned the perfect destination for the "lost" explosives.

Le Wuya continued, "Have the three soldiers who guarded the mine been found?"

Zhou Wenchang naturally shook his head, looking regretful: "Your subordinate is incompetent; we still haven't found them."

Le Wuya: "If they were buried with the miners in the mudslide, they shouldn't be that hard to find. How come all the miners' bodies have been found, but only theirs are missing?"

"Your subordinate finds it strange too. I've told the soldiers to search not just the base of the mountain but Xiaolian Mountain itself, and not to give up easily. The Xiaolian Mountain mine is the economic lifeline of our county, sure, but no matter how precious, it can't be worth more than human life."

With that, Zhou Wenchang put on a pained look: "To me, every life weighs more than a thousand jin."

Le Wuya tapped his fingers lightly on the table: "Zhou Yunxing, you're very different from the person they say you are."

Zhou Wenchang said with self-deprecation, "I was convicted and demoted; the talk in the capital must not be kind."

"Wrong," Le Wuya said. "There are still old colleagues in the Censorate who remember you. They say you were accomplished young, loyal, steady, and gentle, unafraid to speak your mind—just short on luck."

The word "luck" stabbed Zhou Wenchang's heart like a needle, making him lose his composure for a second.

But only for a brief second.

That young Bangyan of the past—riding into the capital, parading through the streets with flowers in his hat, full of vigor and pride—had long been buried somewhere in these ten long years.

He hadn't looked back in a long, long time.

Prompted by Le Wuya, he glanced back at the past, and instantly recoiled, his hair prickling on end.

Now, he huddled under a small rain shelter, standing over the wrongfully slain souls of more than three hundred men, all just to cover up the death of one man.

He was way more than just "a little short on luck"!

Take Le Wuya, for instance—he'd burst onto the scene after Zhou Wenchang, shot up the ranks, and had enjoyed unwavering favor ever since. Even at his lowest point, only in the last few months of his life, and even his death came easy—no torture at all, just dying in prison.

Now that guy was the lucky one!

Nothing breeds resentment like comparison.

His usually rock-solid composure nearly shattered on the spot, just from thinking about that Le Wuya he'd never even met.

Zhou Wenchang took two deep breaths of the hot, humid air, feeling more than a bit wronged.

He'd been nothing but dutiful and obedient, secretly looking into mining corruption for the Emperor, hardworking and careful. Even if he had no great achievements, his hard work had to count for something, right?

If a court-appointed Mining Inspector died because of a miner riot, ten years of his careful work would go down the drain.

Was it so wrong to look out for himself a little?

Those miners who beat the inspector to death were rebels under the law, were going to die anyway. He'd even given them a clean death—buried in their sleep by the mudslide, peaceful and over with.

And still, was he supposed to be hounded by this censor from the court?

Zhou Wenchang thought bitterly—surely his luck, bad as it was, couldn't be that rotten?

He answered, "Your Excellency, I'm past thirty now; how could I still act like a young man?"

"Fair enough." Le Wuya stroked the mole on his lip. "I just worry that since the gunpowder hasn't been found, if it blew up right now, wouldn't the soldiers down the mountain, you and me included, all be buried here?"

His voice was crisp, cutting through the rain, reaching the ears of the soldiers outside who still clung to false hope.

Zhou Wenchang smiled. "...If the Imperial Censor is worried, you can head back to Dansui first. I'll hold things down here; don't worry."

"They're not back yet. I want to leave with Wang Cheng and Xiao Ji."

"Fine." Zhou Wenchang agreed easily. "Let's go together—having company on the road sets my mind at ease too."

...

While Le Wuya and Zhou Wenchang traded words, deadly danger was brewing on Mount Xiaolian!

Wang Cheng yanked Ji Zhun aside, dodging a blade that slashed down through the rain and wind!

Though the sergeant had ordered them to take prisoners alive, these soldiers had the blood of three hundred miners on their hands, and with bloodlust from the chase, they didn't give a damn about orders now.

Wang Cheng wasn't at full strength, fighting back the surging blood and dizzy spells. He shoved Ji Zhun hard forward, then spun around, deftly deflecting the incoming blade with his saber.

Seeing the huge gap in his opponent's defense, he hesitated, then held back from a killing blow, flipping the hilt and slamming it hard into the man's ribs!

The soldier's ribs cracked with a sharp snap, and with a howl, he passed out.

Wang Cheng staggered up, waited for the ringing in his ears to fade, then opened his eyes.

...This mess he'd started had worked out a little too well.

Still, the soldiers' near-mad frenzy was deeply suspicious.

After that desperate run for their lives, Ji Zhun had formed a bond of shared hardship with him.

He reached out to steady Wang Cheng: "Hey, you okay?"

Wang Cheng waved a hand: "I'm fine."

Ji Zhun glanced around frantically for other pursuers, but his eyes landed on a familiar figure crouched on a crooked tree a few dozen paces away, watching them.

Ji Zhun's heart leaped with relief and warmth, and he nearly blurted out "Your Excellency."

Qiu Sinian moved like a ghost, sliding silently down the tree and striding off in one direction.

Ji Zhun quickly hauled Wang Cheng along: "Let's move!"

Wang Cheng asked: "Where are we going?"

"Just go!" Ji Zhun said hastily. "Better than staying put, right?"

Qiu Sinian had planned to lead them to where he'd found the severed leg, hoping they might find more remains.

But as he neared the bushes, he spotted a figure braving the rain and wind, crouched on the ground, digging at something.

Qiu Sinian, a master of stealth, silently hid nearby to watch.

Ji Zhun and Wang Cheng showed up right after.

Despite his panic, Ji Zhun still had the instincts of a Changmen Guard—he grabbed Wang Cheng and pulled him into a muddy pit, leaving only their heads and eyes above to spy.

Wang Cheng narrowed his eyes.

He never forgot a face.

That guy with his butt sticking up in the air—he looked like Magistrate Zhou's personal attendant, who'd stood nearby during the trial.

Under three pairs of eyes, the man dug up a box tightly wrapped in oilcloth, its lid sealed shut.

He slung the box onto his back and pulled out a rolled-up parchment map.

If Le Wuya could see it, he'd recognize it as a copy of the terrain map of mountains and rivers.

...Clearly marked on it were the spots at high risk of a second collapse.

After checking his bearings, the man stashed the map and trudged on, stumbling through the mud.

Wang Cheng had gotten over his dizziness by then, and he and Ji Zhun crept after him on tiptoe.

The attendant reached a hidden cave and crawled inside on all fours.

The moment they got close, both Wang Cheng and Ji Zhun's faces went pale.

Even through the rain, they caught a sharp smell of saltpeter mixed with dirt!

Inside the cave, the man shoved aside the camouflaging rocks, revealing neatly stacked gunpowder covered by tarps!

All the gunpowder left over from the mountain explosion was buried here.

Panting, the attendant opened the box he'd brought in.

Inside was a complete steel-wheel firing mechanism.

Steel wheel, flint, and priming powder—everything was there.

He swallowed hard, then deftly put the whole thing together.

As he worked, Wang Cheng seemed to sense something and looked up—his face went pale with shock.

Somehow, a figure had appeared on the big rock above the cave.

A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky.

In that flash, the whole landscape lit up, revealing Qiu Sinian's cold, stern face.

He clung to the rock wall's edge, watching the man's every move from above. When he noticed Wang Cheng looking, he put a finger to his lips.

Wang Cheng quickly caught on and pressed his own finger to his lips, telling him to keep quiet.

Qiu Sinian, who couldn't talk anyway: "..."

...The people around the lord just keep getting more and more annoying.