Chapter 78
Ning Yi smiled silently. From her angle, Feng Zhiwei could see a dim sparkle in his lidded eyes.
After laughter and conversation, the group eventually dispersed. Feng Zhiwei walked them to the gate, and just as she was letting out a breath of relief, grateful that Shao Ning had not started any chaos, she heard clashing metal in the front yard. “Assassin!” Someone cried as weapons were unsheathed.
Feng Zhiwei’s heart tightened and all the princes exchanged a glance before rushing forward faster than she could.
People fought intensely in the front yard, many guards wearing the uniforms of different mansions were working together against two makes men in grey. The grey men were like ghosts, plunging here and dashing there, the swords in their hands unpredictable as they flashed at and spilled blood, pushing back the guards.
Feng Zhiwei stood for a moment, observing, almost immediately detecting the weirdness of the scene.
One of the assassins seemed to fight aimlessly, not even fighting to kill, the long sword in his hand systematically striking the guards back by hitting their left shoulder, never missing.
Just as the assassins seemed about to break through the encirclement, a man suddenly flew over, a large object clutched in his left hand. Feng Zhiwei locked onto the figure as he wobbled in the air, recognizing the blue and white porcelain vase used for the front yard water lilies…
The man clutched the vase as water spilled all around, tottering over the the battle strewn yard and smashing downward. The Sleeping Lilies flew as water erupted outwards, spraying the assassins and forcing them to cover their eyes. As the grey men retreated, waving their swords in front of them, the vase smasher dashed through the broken porcelain and struck out with his sword, the cold metallic light gleaming.
“Cha!”
Two swords clashes, glittering metal sending rays like sunlight, and a swing was followed by bloody light.
Three left shoulders were pierced with holes.
The assassins trembled and, after throwing down a smoke bomb, fled in separate directions.
The vase smasher stood still, holding his shoulder as he gasped in pain. Feng Zhiwei examined him for a moment, recognizing Ning Cheng, Ning Yi’s personal bodyguard.
He glared in the direction that one of the assassins had fled, shouting angrily: “Sima Guang[1] smashed the vase! Sima Guang smashed all the vases!”
Feng Zhiwei was speechless. Sima Guang Smashing the Vase was a legend told in the Da Cheng Dynasty, but who this Sima Guang actually was was completely unclear, all that remained of the historical record was a comment the Shen Yin Empress had made six hundred years ago, describing the man as someone who worked housing demolition and relocation.
The yard was filled with chaos, all the princes disturbed. They quickly ordered their guards to give chase as they hurriedly bid farewell to Feng Zhiwei. She walked them to the mansion gates, peering up at the Imperial Palace, some darkness pooling in her eyes.
That night, hurried horses broke the silence of Dijing’s center road.
As the day dawned, the Hu Zhuo tribe Prince pounded the Imperial Court Drum outside the palace gates, the deep, low bass of the drums chasing away the mists and clouds as the dark sky brightened.
The loud drum beats woke half of the city. The drum had been placed outside the Imperial Court by the Tian Sheng Emperor when he had founded the dynasty, and anyone who suffered great injustice could pound the drums and call forth a court of justice. The drums were largely symbolic, representing the importance and sanctity of civil affairs.
The threshold for “incredible injustice” was really too high, and as time passed the drum became a simple ornament, and now that someone dared evoke the symbol, all of Dijing trembled.
“Millions of Huo Zhuo people bow before the great Tian Sheng Emperor. Today, Daerza, guard of the Fei Peng Branch of the Hu Zhuo tribe, detained by the Ministry of Punishments, was found dead, poisoned by the order of a Tian Sheng Prince.
The false charges that trapped Daerza was still unresolved and now a true criminal goes free. The United Twelve Hu Zhuo Tribes hereby swear an oath, not suffering an existence alongside this criminal. We beg the Emperor, the wise and just ruler of these lands, to investigate this matter and capture this great offender, resolving this great injustice Hu Zhuo has suffered.”
A Hu Zhuo man dressed in a dark green robe, a white cloth wrapped around his head, stood pounding the drum, his sleeves falling to his shoulders and revealing his powerful arms.
The morning sun pierced the clouds layer by layer as the many gates to the Imperial Palace opened up, one after another. The Tian Sheng Emperor was summoning the ministers and servants for an Imperial Court session at the hours of dawn.
Glaring sunlight shattered over the thousand jade stairs, the paved white square as if surrounded by heavenly clouds. Through the pale mist, a dark-green-robed with a jade white head-binding approached, a corpse carried in his arms.
Bringing a corpse to the Palace!
The impropriety shocked the ministers as they all watched the man approach the throne.
The Tian Sheng Emperor sat on high, a terrible expression on his face.
The man approached, his straight arms almost perpendicular to his body, extending the stiff corpse before him. In the early morning, it was as if he wore the rosy mists of dawn as he pierced the wind, not caring in the slightest the sanctity of the court, daring beyond belief.
The Palace Guards crossed their spears and blocked the way, calling out with disdain: “Such impudence before the Son of Heaven? Leave now!”
With a clattering cry, spears like a forest pointed downwards, forming an iron wall guarding the court.
“Is it that corpses are not allowed in the palace?” The man lifted his chin, a sneer dancing on the corner of his lips. Finally, he placed the corpse on the ground.
Just as everyone was letting out a sigh of relief, their hearts at ease at the sign of the arrogant prince acquiescing to the rules…
The man moved with the speed of lightning!
He knelt, his hands like steel as he stabbed into the corpse’s chest, cutting downwards and retrieving a section of the liver!
The Chang Yi Guards standing watch on the jade stairs were used to bloody scenes, but they were still not prepared for this strange and disgusting move, their hands softening as their faces contorted in disgust. A young rookie guard was so shocked that his spear fell from his hands and clattered on the stairs.
“A corpse is not allowed, but I must bring the evidence of poison. Is this alright?” The man declared, the organ perched on his flat extended palm, his face impassive as his sharp words filled the court.
“Let him pass!”
The resounding order rang out from the perch of heaven, but the man approached without fear, carrying the liver into the Golden Palace.
“Your Majesty!” He cried out, not even bothering to finish a proper bow as he held out the liver. “This Minister’s innocent follower was murdered. I have here the poor man’s liver, the dark green color a clear sign of poison. If Your Majesty cannot trust my words, summon the Director of the Imperial Institute of Medicine!”
While the Princes and Military Officers were handling the scene well, the civilian ministers were clearly disturbed, many of them stepping backwards and on the verge of vomiting.
The men before them looked around, a smiling sneer on his face.
Feng Zhiwei stood near the end of a group of scholars, examining this loud and infamous Hu Zhuo Prince.
The man was tall and strong, his powerful eyebrows tapering sharply, his bright honey skin smooth around his open collar, but his peculiar irises even brighter. When they stared at you, they were like amber wine, but from the side they sparkled with a subtle purple. Catching the sun, they shone like radiant diamonds.
His features were not delicate, but greatly expressive, his emotions a dance upon his face, calling forth the golden grass of the wide, endless steppes.
The Hu Zhuo Prince, Helian Zheng.
As he turned his eyes met Feng Zhiwei’s and the prince saw a pair of misty, distant eyes filled with curiosity and confusion, without any fear or disgust.
[1] 司马光(17 November 1019 – 11 October 1086), courtesy name Junshi, was a Chinese historian, writer, official, and politician.