Chapter 179

Several days passed, and the Embroidered Uniform Guard from multiple cities rapidly approached Lingyun City, their movements conspicuous, all forced marches, with outsiders speculating whether another major incident had occurred.

Inside Lingyun City, the Embroidered Uniform Guard's actions were equally pronounced, with personnel constantly deployed, occasionally arresting several individuals and taking them to the Censorate.

Because Yang Wan'an and two Vice Censors of the Censorate kept uncovering new people.

Even the Minister of the Temple of Heaven was arrested, though this was expected by everyone, as Xu Kong, as Vice Minister of the Temple of Heaven, would not easily be convicted if he did not nod in approval.

However, the more people arrested, the colder the heart of Ji Han, the Garrison Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard in Lingyun City, became.

He had failed to detect problems in his own jurisdiction, only to have his superior discover them instead.

At that moment, several Golden Core cultivators walked in from outside the Censorate gate—Ma Qing and his associates, the Deputy Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

They had just returned to Tianxing City, barely settled, when they received an urgent order and hurriedly rushed to Lingyun City.

Upon entering, Ma Qing saw the courtyard filled with high officials hung up for display.

Ma Qing showed no hesitation, striding directly toward Ji Han.

Ji Han's expression panicked: "Deputy Commander Ma, I..."

With a slap.

Ma Qing's palm landed squarely on Ji Han's face: "What do you mean 'you'? Such a major case and you haven't caught a whisper?"

"What use is keeping you? Are you just eating for free?"

Ji Han tried to speak, but only met with relentless slaps and furious scolding.

This was Ma Qing's intention—he wanted to protect Ji Han, as the more Ji Han spoke, the more mistakes he would make; better to say nothing and endure the beating.

Despite hanging so many officials, none had been made to confess against Ji Han, indicating Ji Han was indeed not corrupt, and no evidence had been found linking him to the case—possibly due to other reasons—but at least his character was unblemished.

But how could Ma Qing's little tricks escape Shen Qing's notice?

Ma Qing delivered dozens of slaps, swelling Ji Han's face, then glanced cautiously at Shen Qing, discovering Shen Qing silently observing them.

"Acting, keep acting—why stop? I quite enjoy the bitter meat stratagem."

Ma Qing gave an embarrassed laugh, approaching Shen Qing: "Lord Shen, I know this Ji Han—he won't be corrupt, he's diligent in his duties, and since we haven't uncovered this case, it can't all be blamed on him."

"It's that Yang Wan'an hid too deeply, and Ji Han lacks your discernment, Lord Shen; had it not been for your involvement, this case might never have been uncovered."

This statement first affirmed Ji Han's integrity, then lavished praise on Shen Qing.

It was flattery, yet genuinely pleasing to hear.

Shen Qing snorted: "Do you think flattering me helps?"

"Death penalty can be avoided, but living punishment cannot escape—clear all merits on the record, demote yourself to the rank of Captain and serve two years there."

Ma Qing turned to glance at Ji Han, who immediately stepped forward, eager to speak, already satisfied.

He had thought his official hat would be lost, but instead he was merely demoted to Captain for two years?

Two years? For a Grand Master, that's but a blink.

Ma Qing wanted to kneel and kowtow.

Shen Qing raised a finger to stop both: "Enough—I'm tired of wasting time on this."

"Where is the information on the Prince of Warmth?"

Ma Qing waved his hand, signaling Ji Han to step aside, then produced a dossier from his sleeve and handed it to Shen Qing.

"Lord Shen, I've already gathered it—this is the most comprehensive intelligence on the Prince of Warmth from the Garrison Command."

Shen Qing unfolded the dossier: "Does anyone else know about this?"

Ma Qing shook his head: "No—only the four of us know, and we've been rushing nonstop, without rest."

Shen Qing's summoning of the Embroidered Uniform Guard merely meant assembling them—no mention of moving against the Prince of Warmth—while the Lingyun City Guard was under strict surveillance, so outsiders had no idea why Shen Qing was mobilizing the Guard.

Shen Qing examined the dossier: the Prince of Warmth was a single-character title, having earned some merit during the founding of the Great Martial Dynasty a thousand years ago, thus wielding considerable influence—even surpassing many princes.

Yet the Prince of Warmth had died hundreds of years ago; the current title is hereditary, his power diminished compared to antiquity, though a dead camel is still larger than a horse—his influence remains significant.

The current Prince of Warmth, Wei Ting, is said by outsiders to be ill and unusually obsessed with money.

The Prince of Warmth's estate has four Golden Core cultivators, the highest being a man named Wind Leg Wu Xun, whose cultivation reaches the fifth level of Golden Core, managing all affairs of the estate as its senior steward.

Ma Qing interjected: "Lord Shen, lately the martial world rumors say Wu Xun may not have many years left—last time seen, he already bore the aura of death."

"He might die within three years."

The implication was clear: waiting three years to act against the Prince of Warmth would be the better choice.

Shen Qing smiled: "Three years is too long—I'm too lazy to wait."

Ma Qing, standing aside, grimaced, suddenly realizing Shen Qing's rise to prominence had taken less than three years—how could he possibly wait three years?

At that moment, a scholar entered the Censorate: "Boss, the Embroidered Uniform Guard has assembled."

Shen Qing rose and strode toward the Censorate gate.

He waved his hand: "Execute all these officials; in half an hour, assemble at the Western City Gate."

Yulin River.

The winter wind swept through, snowflakes drifting down—along the way, no villages were visible, only the cries of birds and beasts.

This is the Prince of Warmth's estate: within fifty miles, no civilians may reside.

A narrow road bears the ruts of carts, several wagons creaking as they pass—these are the wagons delivering supplies to the Prince of Warmth's estate.

Dozens of wagons arrive daily to deliver goods.

A wagon driver blew on his reddened palm, removed his hat, shook it, and a flake of snow fell: "This damned weather keeps getting colder."

A man looked up at the sky: "Indeed—this year's snowfall is unusually heavy."

"Say, brother, do we really have to keep delivering to the Prince of Warmth's estate? They pay less than others."

The wagon driver gave a bitter laugh: "No choice—he's the Prince of Warmth; better to suffer a loss than die."

Another man shook his head and sighed.

At that moment, a black shadow flashed past, cutting off their path and stopping their wagon.

The man opened his mouth to curse, but when he saw clearly that the figure was an Embroidered Uniform Guard, he swallowed his words back.

The man turned his head and saw an even more shocking sight.

Only then did he see that behind him, at some point, over a thousand Embroidered Uniform Guards on black horses had appeared.

They wore black nightclothes, moving through bloodstained silence; their horses were black-scaled cloud-stepping steeds, passing over snow without a sound.

In the distance, even more Embroidered Uniform Guards could be seen, raising their heads; through the wind and snow, a faint white flood dragon could be glimpsed.

The coachman, having never seen such a sight, trembled and drove the carriage straight into the ditch by the roadside.

At that moment, a horse stopped beside him, a hand reached out and pulled him up—it was the scholar.

"Old sir, are you going to the Prince Wen's mansion?"

The coachman nodded: "This sir, we will make way for you immediately."

The scholar smiled and shook his head.

"Then you don't need to go; turn back now."

"From now on, there will be no Prince Wen's mansion."