Chapter 6

This was the first intention behind Wang Yang’s strike against the handsome boy and the strong man—he used his vinegar-drenched fingers to draw a small circle on their right arms while slapping them.

The vinegar on his fingertips was already thin; after tracing the circle on the dark hemp fabric and evaporating in the air, it became nearly invisible to the naked eye. But once heated, the residual vinegar would lose its water, concentrate, and make the mark stand out clearly.

Moreover, when fabric reaches a certain temperature, it chars black—that temperature is called the “carbonization point.” Fabric soaked in vinegar has a lower carbonization point than normal fabric, so when exposed to flame, the vinegar-stained areas would char first.

(Hemp is a type of fabric; in medieval texts, when “fabric” is mentioned, it often refers to hemp fiber—hemp weaving isn’t necessarily inferior cloth. Large hemp and qingma produce coarse fabric, while zhuma can be spun into high-grade textiles, not cheap at all—see below.)

To Wang Yang, this was nothing remarkable, but the soldiers had no idea. Seeing it, they were all stunned, convinced this was truly some kind of northern spy code. Their belief in Wang Yang’s identity as a member of the Langya Wang clan deepened further. Who else but a person of great stature would know such things?

The strong man and the handsome boy could not see the marks on the fabric, only shouting curses and accusing Wang Yang. In desperation, the handsome boy even claimed Wang Yang had murdered someone and carried a major crime! The strong man roared that Wang Yang intended to rebel!

They said whatever would draw attention.

But these frantic, exaggerated claims only made them less credible—and undermined the credibility of their earlier testimony that Wang Yang was impersonating someone.

The squad leader had no interest in their nonsense. He hurriedly asked: “My lord, what does this pattern mean?”

Wang Yang said: “It’s the sun. The barbarians have always worshipped the sun and moon. Haven’t you read in the Records of the Grand Historian: ‘The Chanyu goes out at dawn to bow to the rising sun, and at dusk to bow to the moon’?”

The squad leader had never read the Records of the Grand Historian—he only shook his head. Wang Yang then spoke with even greater solemnity: “Do you know how many northern spies cross the border each year? How many recruits they’ve cultivated? Even within the army, they have moles! Otherwise, the moment I saw you, I would have exposed them—why wait until now?”

This was a question Wang Yang had wanted to explain earlier, and one of his biggest vulnerabilities: if those four were truly northern spies, why hadn’t he revealed the truth from the start?

Wang Yang had already prepared his answer, but offering it proactively would seem forced. Now, by casually mentioning it in passing, it sounded natural.

The squad leader had been suspicious, but hadn’t found a chance to ask. Hearing Wang Yang’s explanation, his doubts lessened considerably.

Wang Yang continued: “Northern spies crossing the border are numerous, their ranks complex and disconnected. To identify each other, some imprint secret marks on their right sleeves. When traveling in groups, those with the mark are primary, those without are secondary. This is state secrets—I can say no more. If you think your life is long enough, go ahead and spread it abroad.”

“No, no! I would never dare spread it!” the squad leader bowed in panic.

Wang Yang noticed—this was the first time the squad leader had called himself “this humble servant.”

“Liar! He’s a liar! Don’t believe him! He doesn’t even bear the Wang surname! He’s killed people! Several of them!”

“He’s fake! He’s an impostor! A fraud! He intends to rebel, to usurp the throne!”

The strong man and the handsome boy screamed wildly, losing all restraint, almost hysterical.

Wang Yang glanced at the two men, writhing and clawing, desperate to see him dead. He hardened his heart and asked the squad leader: “What should be done with these two?”

The squad leader said: “Take them back, interrogate them harshly.”

Wang Yang shook his head: “Too troublesome.”

“Then what does my lord suggest...?”

Wang Yang said nothing, only looked at Xu Bian’s corpse.

The squad leader followed his gaze and felt a chill:

“This... isn’t proper. They’re northern spies—taking them back, we’ll surely extract something.”

Wang Yang smiled faintly at the squad leader: “Proper? When we first met, you shot two without asking, and planned to hand over captives to your superiors for amusement—what kind of propriety is that?”

The squad leader looked embarrassed and quickly explained: “The Aqulin area forbids night travel. The darkness was too thick, and there was the Lu Yang order...”

Wang Yang waved him off: “Don’t worry—I don’t care about such trivialities. I’m just reminding you: keeping these two may not be wise. They don’t know what to say or what not to say.”

“Wang! May your whole family die in torment! You plot to harm others—your books have rotted in your dog’s belly! xxx, xxxx!”

“Don’t believe him! He’s not from the Langya Wang clan! You fools have all been fooled by him! xxxxx! I xxxx!”

The strong man and the handsome boy grew angrier, hurling increasingly vile curses.

Wang Yang whispered: “Look—they’re diehards. Take them back, you won’t extract a word, not even an admission of being spies. Then they’ll fabricate lies in their confessions, and you won’t gain merit—you’ll incur blame. Kill them, and you’ve slain four northern spies. Take them back, and you’ve brought back two hazards.”

“But... but there’s too little evidence of the northern spies. Without confessions, just that ‘sun’ mark...”

“You don’t need the ‘sun’ mark at all. I’ll testify for you. With the Langya Wang clan’s word, that’s the greatest evidence! I vouch for the four spies’ identities. You and your men killed the spies and saved me—you’ve earned great merit!”

The squad leader had been waiting for this. He immediately bowed and clasped his fists: “As you command!”

He then ordered: “Lao San, Ding Jiu, by Wang’s Young Master ’s order, execute these two spies.”

Wang Yang knew the squad leader deliberately emphasized it was his order—he didn’t care. These two had to die.

The strong man, needless to say, was cruel and without bounds—he had killed Xu Bian. He deserved death.

The handsome boy hadn’t done much evil, but he had exposed Wang Yang’s false identity as a vagrant first, then accused him of impersonating the Langya Wang clan afterward—purely the mindset of a petty man. Had Wang Yang been less lucky, dragged down by him, he might have died without ever knowing how.

“Aye!” Lao San and Ding Jiu drew their blades and advanced toward the strong man and the handsome boy.

Seeing they were truly about to be killed, the two turned pale with terror. The handsome boy screamed: “Dr. Wang! Dr. Wang, I’m sorry! Brother Wang! I truly know my mistake! Give me one chance! I’ll obey you from now on! I’ll be your servant! I don’t want to die! I just got here! I’m the protagonist—”

The strong man was far more defiant: “You’ve all been fooled! He’s the northern spy! He’s the biggest one! Report him to the general—he’ll reward you handsomely!”

The blade was already at his throat. Knowing his end had come, he glared and roared: “You little brat! You’ve broken the law! Murder! Incitement to murder! You’ll never go back! You’ll die a wretched—”

The blades slit their throats instantly. Their curses cut off.

Wang Yang turned away. He felt his limbs cold and numb, as if all strength had been drained from his body.

This was his first time taking a life. But he felt no regret.

Surviving in ancient times after crossing over had never been easy—he’d always known that.

The squad leader said: “My lord, please come with us to meet our Xue Duizhu.”

Wang Yang still faced away, coldly snorting: “Meet him? A lowly clerk—why should I go to him? Go back now. Tell him I’m here. Have him come to me immediately.”

Wang Yang wasn’t putting on airs—he was physically weak, his legs numb, afraid of showing weakness before these soldiers. More importantly, he didn’t want to meet the Duizhu at all.

His words might fool these soldiers, but whether they’d fool the Xue Duizhu was uncertain.

He hoped the squad leader would take all the soldiers away, so he could slip off unnoticed.

Seeing Wang Yang’s lofty demeanor, the squad leader bowed deeply: “Yes, yes! I’ll go at once!”

Wang Yang was pleased as the squad leader prepared to leave—but just as the squad leader took one step, he turned back:

“In such a desolate place, my lord, how can you travel without guards?”

Without asking Wang Yang’s opinion, he ordered: “Lao San, Ding Jiu, stay behind to serve the lord.”

The black-haired spearman immediately said: “Squad leader, the four corpses still need decapitation and gathering. Lao San and Ding Jiu can’t guard the lord while doing that—let me stay too.”

Ding Jiu glanced at the black-haired man. Wang Yang inwardly groaned.

The squad leader thought a moment, then said: “Very well.” He added in a near-whisper: “Be careful. Don’t let him run.”

The black-haired man nodded.