Chapter 92: Great Tang Internal Security

Though mentally calculating matters concerning the troublemakers, Chu Tianshu ate lunch with a good appetite.

He could now control his digestive capacity, no longer feeling hungry as easily as before.

But since he trained, he could not possibly maintain his digestion at the bare minimum of just a little grain and water.

A steamed fish and a dish of lamb per meal were mandatory; everything else was secondary.

Though stir-fried dishes did not yet exist, the way Wen Family Tavern prepared lamb resembled stone-grilled meat, sprinkled with powdered zhu yu and salt.

The lamb’s natural richness, enhanced by salt and the spiciness of the zhu yu, was the tavern’s most barbecue-like seasoning for meat dishes—closest to the taste of Chu Tianshu’s hometown barbecue.

It was that kind of barbecue that highlighted the meat’s aroma, where seasonings served only as accompaniments, never overshadowing the main ingredient.

Paired with qingjing rice, it was utterly irresistible.

By the time Chu Tianshu finished lunch, the number of guests in the building had increased.

It was time again for Dao Baishu’s storytelling.

“Today, the old man will tell of how demons schemed to sow discord, and how General Fu Bo pacified Lingnan!”

Dao Baishu stepped onto the stage and raised his paper-mâché hammer.

“The Han Dynasty’s General Fu Bo, Ma Yuan, was said to be the first master of the Thundering Old Man’s Golden Hammer.”

“After his death, his martial soul dispersed, but these twin treasures were of exceptional quality, passed into Li Yuanba’s hands, who then cultivated a martial soul within them—his dominance surpassing even Ma Yuan’s.”

“Li Yuanba’s martial skill was unmatched under heaven, yet he was young and knew nothing of civil governance; General Ma, however, excelled in both civil and martial arts.”

“When Lingnan rebelled, General Ma crushed the bandits, then governed the region: he built irrigation canals, promoted commerce, and nurtured the people, making Central Plains folk and Lingnan folk as close as one family.”

“But demons, their hearts unrepentant, interfered secretly, using dark arts and deceit to turn Central Plains folk against Lingnan folk.”

“How many commoners were manipulated by them? How many bones were trampled beneath their feet—all to satisfy their selfish desires…”

At this point, Dao Baishu’s righteous fury overflowed; he swung the paper-mâché hammer high into the air, as if to crush the demons of old with a single blow.

“What dark schemes did these demons devise? What demonic arts did they wield? And how did General Ma resolve it all? Listen closely, and I shall tell you!”

Most in the hall listened with eager anticipation, for Dao Baishu’s storytelling was indeed meticulous and captivating.

Moreover, General Fu Bo Ma Yuan was rumored to have once come to Nanzhao, erected bronze pillars to honor heaven, and taught the locals civilization—earning him considerable fame among Nanzhao’s people.

People loved hearing stories of famous figures.

The Thundering Old Man’s Golden Hammer further linked Ma Fu Bo with Li Yuanba, adding even more anticipation.

But some, after hearing only the beginning, sensed a deeper meaning.

This tale of demons sowing discord openly spoke of Lingnan.

But secretly, it likely referred to Nanzhao.

It matched the recent rumor that “Nanzhao people’s wealth has been stolen by Tang people.”

Some thought even deeper.

Dao Baishu was not a Tang person.

He was Bai, and from a prominent Bai clan—just like the Nanzhao royal family.

Some who had not fully believed the rumor now, after hearing it repeated, began to harbor uneasy feelings toward the Tang.

Now, hearing Dao Baishu speak of hidden malice behind the scenes, that faint unease turned into the chilling realization: someone was using their grievances.

Chu Tianshu noticed the shift in the crowd’s expressions, walked to the counter, and smiled softly: “Was this your idea, Madam Wen Jing?”

Madam Wen Jing, watching the stage, shook her head: “I didn’t tell Old Dao any of this.”

Cheng the Blind said: “Seems the old man has his own intentions.”

“No wonder he always insists on disclaimers—he’s secretly fond of veiled references, building himself a shield first.”

Chu Tianshu spoke words others barely understood, smiling broadly: “His storytelling is excellent—excellent precisely because it’s veiled yet carries pure righteousness.”

Cheng the Blind sighed: “But how much good can it truly do?”

“If we can’t find and kill those scheming behind the scenes, all we do is patch leaks after the sheep are gone, guard against thieves a thousand days—there will always be a lapse.”

Cheng the Blind tightened his grip on his scabbard, his expression restless.

“It’s infuriatingly slow!”

Madam Wen Jing patted his shoulder.

Chu Tianshu said: “Don’t rush. If they truly want to escalate this, their moves will only grow more frequent—and their mistakes more obvious.”

“Besides, after you killed those three targeting Madam Wen Jing, and the authorities took the bodies—any group wanting cohesion must harbor some desire for revenge. What if they discover you once killed one of their noble sons…”

“Ha, they’ll strike the tavern again. More men will come. Their leaders will be stronger, higher-ranked.”

Chu Tianshu’s eyes gleamed slightly: “That’s our opportunity.”

Cheng the Blind said gravely: “But we only have suspicions—we can’t use them to ask the authorities for more guards.”

The authorities’ current focus is protecting those few who’ve been attacked but not yet died.

As they spoke, a young, strong man entered through the door, dressed as a servant, yet carrying a strong medicinal scent—mainly from the sack on his back.

“You’re Master Chu, correct?”

The pharmacy attendant said, “I’m from Zi Jin Pharmacy. These are the herbs for you—where should I put them?”

Chu Tianshu said: “Follow me.”

He led the attendant toward the guest rooms.

The “Breaking Shaolin” fist manual recorded many herbal formulas, but some herbs were unavailable in Nanzhao.

For example, “Ci Wu Jia”—in this era, it was found only in northern Tang.

Chu Tianshu selected formulas using herbs easily obtainable in Nanzhao, adjusting quantities based on his knowledge of his own body and pharmacology.

His current herbs were mostly ginseng, huang jing, du zhong, ba ji tian, and zi jin teng.

Since he ordered large quantities each time, the attendant packed them into a knee-high sack for him, to be crushed and mixed with sand himself.

Behind the main hall of Wen Family Tavern lay a courtyard, with kitchens and storage rooms on either side.

Beyond the back wall of this courtyard was a new yard, paved with stone bricks, flanked by low trees and flowers.

The new yard was surrounded on three sides by guest pavilions, each two stories high, with four rooms per floor—clearly sizable.

Yet compared to the bustling main hall,

the guest rooms were quiet during the day.

Chu Tianshu’s room was in the northern pavilion.

As he entered the pavilion, his steps paused slightly.

Each floor had four rooms, each needing to be comfortable.

Thus, there was no space for a reception hall—only a five-foot-wide corridor upon entry.

On either side of the corridor stood wooden walls, behind which lay the rooms.

Raw wooden pillars, carved doors and windows.

Chu Tianshu stood in the corridor, as if seeing the wooden walls for the first time.

The pharmacy attendant asked: “What’s wrong?”

Chu Tianshu turned to him, pupils slightly bright: “I’ve visited your pharmacy before—why haven’t I seen you?”

“We have many attendants—how could a guest know them all?”

The attendant smiled, offering the sack: “Please take your herbs.”

BOOM!!

The sack suddenly burst.

The attendant’s right hand pierced through the sack, his fingernails turning black and sharp, fingers warping grotesquely.

Once uneven, the fingers now aligned symmetrically around the middle finger.

When fused, they resembled a meticulously forged black iron spearhead.

This piercing force far exceeded the damage of a normal man’s palm thrust.

At this moment, a thin strip of cloth, as thick as a little finger, bulged from his black belt, glowing bluish.

After becoming a martial family, the Yuwen clan, besides ancestral techniques, specifically gathered highly concealed qi-strengthening and blood-refining arts.

This attendant’s martial soul resided in his belt—named “Lion-Man Belt”—and the corresponding qi-strengthening method was “Lion-Man Spear!”

When activated, this martial soul granted strength like a wild beast and hands like iron spears.

Yet as he thrust forward, the air beside his arm suddenly swelled slightly.

That was Chu Tianshu’s hand moving.

His gesture was neither fist nor palm—more like a handshake.

Palm forward, sweeping in one motion—but so fast that air compressed beneath his palm, creating abnormal turbulence.

PSHHH!!

The fake attendant’s wrist was seized by Chu Tianshu’s hand.

In martial soul state, his arm was as hard as stone.

Yet Chu Tianshu’s grip shattered his sleeve, tore flesh and muscle, and cracked bones.

Thin streams of blood even spurted from between Chu Tianshu’s fingers, spraying onto the floor.

The fake attendant’s face twisted in disbelief and excruciating pain.

Chu Tianshu’s hand flicked instantly.

The fake attendant felt a force surge into his body like a tidal wave—his skin quivered, the shock traveling through his entire frame—then the wind changed abruptly.

BOOM!!

With one flick, Chu Tianshu transmitted force, hurling the fake attendant like a weapon—smashing straight through the right wooden wall.

Inside the right room, a burly man gripped a long blade, ready to strike.

The wall shattered, causing his expression to flicker—already, the fake waiter’s two legs had swept horizontally across the brute’s body.

The brute’s chest caved in instantly, ribs snapping, blood spraying as he flew backward and slammed into the corner.

The wooden wall on the left also exploded apart, shards spraying into the corridor.

Three men hidden in the left room had burst out.

Their wrist guards, belts, and short knives each glowed as they struck simultaneously.

Chu Tianshu stepped back one pace, using his rear foot as an axis; as his heel struck the ground, shockwave energy surged through his entire body and poured from his right hand.

A violent “whoosh!!” echoed through the air.

The fake waiter’s body swung back like a massive iron whip, whipped around by Chu Tianshu.

He swept all three into the range of his strike.

Thud!!!

The three men’s attacks landed on the fake waiter almost simultaneously.

Then all three figures felt a powerful shockwave rebounding against them, their faces trembling, chests constricted, as they were thrown backward.

Crash! Clatter!

The tables, chairs, potted plants, and beds inside the left room were smashed to pieces by their violent, stumbling retreat.

But at that moment, the corridor above suddenly flared bright.

The second-floor floor was destroyed by a force.

Yet this time, no sound of splintering or shattering wood came forth.

Because the force that shattered the floor was both ferocious and clean.

Ferocious in that, under this blow, every wooden plank within the seven-foot length and five-foot width corresponding to the corridor below turned to powder.

Clean in that the force discharged only upon those planks.

Not a single crack spread to the surrounding wood.

Thus, the entire process produced no extraneous noise.

Only a faint vibration, as if something had trembled lightly.

A flash of blade-light descended, accompanied by a torrent of falling wood dust and splinters.

Chu Tianshu’s eyes flickered—he sensed the blade’s aura had already enveloped him; if he retreated, he would face a storm of relentless pursuit.

He could certainly handle such pursuit, but his instinct from years of fist art training led him to choose a better response—he suddenly released his grip, and his body slanted forward in a thrust.

The fake waiter’s body still hung suspended in midair.

Chu Tianshu appeared to the left of the fake waiter; the blade-wielder appeared to the right.

The vertical blade-light suddenly shifted, slicing horizontally from right to left.

But in the next instant, Chu Tianshu appeared at the position beneath the fake waiter’s feet.

Two figures, like wind-tossed fluff and fluttering butterflies, circled the fake waiter’s body once.

The surrounding dust was stirred by their momentum, forming a fleeting vortex.

But Chu Tianshu merely circled once—while the blade-wielder’s slashes crisscrossed chaotically.

In the blink of an eye, Chu Tianshu appeared inside the right room.

The fake waiter’s body hit the ground, split into over a dozen pieces.

The blade-wielder stood at the broken opening of the left room; the dust had thinned, revealing his face.

He was a burly middle-aged man, with large eyes, a sunken nose, bristly short beard, and a massive blade four feet long, as wide as a palm, thick and heavy.

Just now, wielding such a blade, he had moved as lightly as if it were a razor-thin, cicada-wing blade.

“Excellent sword art. Your killing intent is far more refined than those hidden in the room.”

Chu Tianshu’s ears twitched slightly—he heard commotion and shouts from the main hall ahead, faint clashing of weapons.

But even if a battle erupted there, it posed no threat as refined as this swordsman before him.

“I’m glad you’ve come to me willingly—but your target was originally Lady Wenzheng, wasn’t it?”

Chu Tianshu brushed his right sleeve, dispersing the dust beside him, smiling faintly, tone laced with curiosity.

“Why then is the real expert here?”

The blade-wielder snorted coldly.

“No need for pretense. These people in this inn have lived in Nanzhao for years—how could they possibly know our Yuwen family’s movements?”

“The only sudden newcomer is you!”

The blade-wielder lowered his center of gravity, breathing slightly heavier.

“The Tang Imperial Secret Service is truly extraordinary—you’ve sensed traces and sent someone to eliminate us!”

“You may not be one of the two Commanders of the Imperial Secret Service, but your skill is far from ordinary.”

“I, Yuwen Tongxin, shall today strangle a talent of the Imperial Secret Service—removing a great threat to the future of the Yuwen family!”

Chu Tianshu’s eyebrows twitched.

“So I’m Imperial Secret Service, am I?”

Chu Tianshu murmured, “I’ve heard the reputation of the Tang Imperial Secret Service is like that of demons—should I be more brutal, then?”

(End of Chapter)