Chapter 102

The steam in the hall either condensed into droplets that trickled down pillars and beams onto the floor tiles.

Or was swept away by the wind.

With insufficient heat to replenish it, the mist in the hall had already thinned, revealing the surroundings more clearly.

The medicinal bowl left on the table had lost its noticeable warmth.

Because he needed to avoid light, Chu Tianshu had not let Haidonglai remove the cloth covering his head.

His needle technique was applied precisely, through the fabric.

Dozens of silver needles, long and short, stood upright on Haidonglai’s head.

The needle tails trembled slightly, occasionally tinged with a faint red hue.

That was the glow of Haidonglai’s soldier-soul energy.

Whatever form soldier-souls took—wind, fire, or ice—

their essence was always yin.

Moreover, they were in fact the warrior’s inner will, fused with the qi of the spirit realm, and perfectly aligned with the warrior’s body and mind.

A normal yin spirit entering the body brought both stimulation and heavy burden, but a soldier-soul imposed minimal strain on its host.

Allowing the soldier-soul to dissolve within the body, its power dispersing or even leaking out, offered little benefit to the warrior.

But if the soldier-soul were transported to the areas most severely inflamed, and Chu Tianshu then inserted needles precisely where the soldier-soul resided,

he could guide its yin spiritual nature to first suppress the worst inflammations.

At the very least, he had pulled Haidonglai back from the brink of sudden death.

The rest could be treated and nurtured later.

“Alright, the head is secured.”

Chu Tianshu wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow, exhaled, and sat back in his chair. “We’ll treat the heart and lungs after a while.”

Haidonglai asked, “If I wish to preserve even a sliver of my soldier-soul’s vitality, will it significantly slow the healing process?”

“No.”

Chu Tianshu drained his own cup of tea and said, “Even if you used up your entire soldier-soul, you still wouldn’t be able to engage in intense combat for half a year.”

“Then it’s better to preserve a bit of it, to transfer later to a new weapon.”

Cheng Xianzi sat nearby, hearing Chu Tianshu’s voice still dry, and pushed over the untouched cup of tea beside him.

Chu Tianshu took it and drank it down in one gulp.

Haidonglai closed his eyes, sensed his condition, and a look of unguarded delight crossed his face.

“Your medical skill is astonishingly effective on my injuries.”

Haidonglai pulled out a handful of gold leaves and placed them on the table. “This payment is far from sufficient.”

“If you desire gold or silver, I can ask Magistrate Zheng to advance it. If you have other demands, I will spare no effort to repay you.”

As Haidonglai spoke, a look of regret crossed his face.

“My greatest value was always my ability to kill. Now, with these injuries, that value has been greatly diminished…”

Chu Tianshu turned to look at him and raised one finger.

“General Haidong, let me repeat: you cannot engage in intense combat for half a year, or you may die before the fight even ends—I’ll have treated you for nothing!”

Haidonglai laughed. “I value my own life very much.”

“I worked tirelessly to earn this reputation and position, all to enjoy it. As long as I live one more day, I enjoy one more day of fame and power.”

He said calmly, “If I die, all of it becomes worthless.”

Chu Tianshu held a fresh cup of tea brought by the steward, gently brushing aside the tea leaves floating on the surface.

“Indeed. The dead cannot even drink a cup of water.”

Chu Tianshu asked, “So, you’ve always worn red robes and carried a red umbrella, just to make yourself more memorable?”

Haidonglai replied slowly, “Yes. When I joined the Imperial Guard as the foremost martial artist of Chang’an, that was part of my reasoning.”

“If I had entered the army, I’d have been bound by rigid rules and tangled in bureaucratic relationships—my achievements might never even be credited to me. I wouldn’t mind killing a few who steal credit, but it’s too troublesome.”

Cheng Xianzi, who had just lifted a fresh cup of tea, froze mid-motion.

“Are you thinking of yourself, Captain Cheng?”

Haidonglai suddenly said, “Years ago, several men led by the Military Governor of Weibo rebelled.”

“Your company held the city, blocking the rebels’ southern advance. I was nearby, seeking an opportunity to assassinate rebel officers, and secretly witnessed your actions.”

“Your Wind Blade, the Lanzhou Cut—excellent. I expected to see your name on the merit rolls, but later learned your entire company was annihilated.”

“The military intelligence reports mentioned nothing of your fate. Instead, the son of the Minister of War who led the reinforcements received the great credit.”

Crack!

A crack split Cheng Xianzi’s teacup; hot liquid seeped through his knuckles.

“They didn’t just steal my credit.”

Cheng Xianzi lifted his eyelids; his white pupils radiated an unyielding chill.

“Even the dead’s achievements and reputations are stolen—this is still the Great Tang? Is this what our Tang generals have become?!”

Haidonglai said, “The Lu family refused to follow the Two-Tax Law, secretly forming cliques and enriching themselves. I uncovered their involvement in that incident, and both father and son were beheaded by my Imperial Guard.”

“If you joined the Imperial Guard, you could have avenged yourself long ago—and cleared the injustice for countless soldiers like you.”

Cheng Xianzi sat stunned for a moment.

After that incident, he had lain bedridden for over a month, his eyesight worsening, his spirit crushed, and he became a border assassin.

He thought he had seen through the world, learned to preserve himself—but still intervened against the Yuwen family’s cruel young master.

He never imagined that the old enemy, who had once held high office and manipulated the world’s currents, was already dead.

“Hah!”

Cheng Xianzi gave a sudden, inexplicable laugh and exhaled deeply. “The passionate die. The cold-blooded die. It doesn’t matter whether your blood is hot or cold.”

“Ha! Good riddance.”

As if utterly oblivious to Haidonglai’s implied invitation, he said nothing, and suddenly stood up.

“Brother Chu, if you need help, just let me know.”

“Right now, I just want to see what new trick Wenzheng has come up with today.”

Chu Tianshu smiled. “Go ahead.”

Haidonglai sighed softly. “It seems he still has loyalty, but no ambition left.”

Chu Tianshu sipped tea to moisten his throat. “Not everyone needs ambition.”

Zheng Hui had held his tongue earlier, fearing disruption to the treatment.

Now, seeing Haidonglai could speak without issue, he couldn’t help asking, “What was your original purpose in coming to Nanzhao?”

Haidonglai’s expression turned solemn. “For the Imperial Guard.”

“Nanzhao has always been a critical region for the Imperial Guard. There are many hidden relay stations and pigeon lofts here.”

“After Nanzhao’s surrender ten years ago, oversight relaxed somewhat. But now, as the court prepares to wage war against Tibet, Nanzhao’s stance is crucial.”

“I re-examined Nanzhao’s records and found the Imperial Guard’s presence there greatly diminished.”

“Especially in and around the capital city—there are no Imperial Guard agents left at all.”

Zheng Hui was startled. “All killed?”

Zheng Hui was startled: “All perished?”

Haidonglai said, “If so many Imperial Guard agents had died in Nanzhao, I wouldn’t have only now noticed the anomaly.”

“Many weren’t killed—they were quietly reassigned over the past few years, moved to the borders, even recalled to Sichuan.”

“Some of these orders were processed by the Left Bureau, others by the Right Bureau. Some of the officers who issued them are dead; others are imprisoned.”

“Still others are alive, but when I questioned them about why they issued such orders, their explanations were plausible—claiming they acted according to circumstances at the time.”

Zheng Hui caught the key point: “There’s someone in the Tang court who understands the Imperial Guard well, and has conspired with Nanzhao insiders, subtly diluting the Guard’s presence here?”

The Military Governor of Huaixi could not possibly wield such influence over the Imperial Guard.

Haidonglai whispered, “I think the same. There’s a high-ranking traitor in the court.”

Zheng Hui gasped. “If such a dangerous man exists, the traces he left in Nanzhao must be nearly impossible to find.”

“Why didn’t you stay in the capital to investigate?”

Haidonglai replied calmly, “The court is too complex. Investigation would take too long. The court’s military campaign is imminent—we cannot afford delays.”

Chu Tianshu smiled. “The traitor targeted the Imperial Guard in Nanzhao, meaning Nanzhao is his focal point.”

“Even if we don’t know who the court traitor is, or what his next move is, if we go to Nanzhao and observe recent major events,

we can simply eliminate the most visible threat to the Tang—then his entire network will be torn open.”

Haidonglai raised his gaze, a smile now visible in his eyes.

“You truly understand me!”

Haidonglai’s expression turned cold and dark. “But I never expected to encounter the Tibetan Grand Priest and over thirty royal monks.”

Zheng Hui sighed. “People from the Tang court. People from the Huaixi Military Governor. People from Tibet.”

“And yet, someone in Nanzhao has conspired with so many factions.”

“The rumors against the Tang must be part of their plan.”

At this, Chu Tianshu’s face darkened, as if half his features had vanished into shadow.

There are always such people—heartless, one after another—treating the lives of the masses as mere pawns to be dropped at will.

Duan Zhong’s ambition, Huaixi’s near-rebellion, Tibet’s prolonged warfare—all that was expected.

Duan Zhong harbored ambitious designs; Huaixi was effectively in rebellion, and though Tibet had been at war for a long time, that too was acceptable.

In the Tang court, there were also powerful men who treated the Tang people as if they were not human.

Even though one knew this had always been the case throughout dynasties, it still felt repulsive.

“Killing just one local leader from Nanzhao isn’t enough.”

Chu Tianshu tipped his head back and swallowed the tea leaves whole, chewing the stems as he said, “Give them a chance to all surface—then kill them all.”

Zheng Hui’s expression turned uneasy: “That sounds similar to what Lord Hai originally planned, but don’t we lack sufficient strength now?”

“Not necessarily.”

Chu Tianshu countered, then smiled, “Besides, Lord Hai’s original plan was to wait until the enemy showed themselves, then rush in and kill them on the spot.”

“Not only is it uncertain whether such a small force could succeed against overwhelming numbers, but even if it did, the fight would be too brief—there wouldn’t be enough time for their allies to hear of it, grow anxious, and then reveal themselves.”

Hai Donglai listened with interest: “How do you plan to do it?”

Chu Tianshu said, “First kill a minor figure to give them a jolt, then create a situation so publicly undeniable they cannot refuse—drawing the world’s attention, while giving enough time…”

Zheng Hui focused intently on the latter half—exactly how it would be done.

But Hai Donglai, before hearing the rest, said, “Your first words reek of killing intent—you’ve wanted to kill that man for far longer than just a day or two.”

“You strike me as a straightforward man—why wait until now, inventing so many excuses?”

Chu Tianshu admitted it openly.

“I hate most of all having a crossbow pointed at my head—I’ve wanted to kill him for a long time.”

“Yet the world is full of deep ravines and gorges—even the wind, free and unbound, may strike a wall when it blows wildly at first.”

“Only by finding the right pivot can one, through many twists and turns, not only avoid loss but grow stronger, gathering an unstoppable momentum.”

Chu Tianshu’s gaze sharpened; he swallowed the tea leaves, his mouth filled with a fragrant, lethal aura.

“I’m not waiting—I’ve been moving forward all along. Though each step seems leisurely, none have ever stopped.”

Now, the wind already carried the clear, metallic ring of golden energy!

(End of Chapter)