Chapter 330: Zhao Qian Slays Hui Neng, Destroys the Stone Statue

The man's monk robe was torn ragged, his bald scalp frozen purple, his head bowed so his face couldn't be seen, only a strip of his rope‑tightened, reddened neck was exposed.

Chen Yan smiled lightly, his hand holding the tea cup tilted a bit, the tea forming fine ripples: "The bald donkey Zhao Qian is holding, dharma name Hui Neng!"

The voice was full of amusement.

"Hui Neng?!"

Yuwen Ze raised his voice sharply, the tea cup slipped from his hand, clanged crisply on the table, scalding tea splashed on the back of his hand, yet he didn't notice, staring fixedly at the bald monk below: "Isn't this the master who claimed a dream from the Buddha and passed down the verse?!"

Yuwen Ze was not interested in Buddhism, and knew few great monk masters.

But this Hui Neng of Tan Hua Temple had become too famous in Chang'an lately…

After all, that verse about plotting a coup was indeed spoken by him!

"It's him!"

Chen Yan raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly.

The cold wind slipped through the window cracks, making the candle flame flicker wildly, and also cleared Yuwen Ze's muddled mind a bit, suddenly realizing something. He looked at Chen Yan, words stumbling: "A Xiong, old Zhao the brute has hauled Hui Neng over, could it be that…?!"

The bold speculation got stuck in his throat.

"Exactly."

Chen Yan gave a slight nod.

"The one behind, covered by a red cloth, is the one‑eyed stone statue from the Wei River…," his voice was calm and even, as if stating an ordinary matter.

As he spoke, he suddenly raised his hand, his fingertip pointing obliquely toward the east side of the execution ground, where a three‑person‑tall object stood.

It was draped in a heavy red cloth, its edges rustling in the cold wind, clashing with the surrounding grim execution implements.

"A Xiong has no intention to stop, nor to set a trap, just came to watch the spectacle…," Yuwen Ze narrowed his eyes, his mind racing, calculating.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up…

This is probably the very pit my own A Xiong dug!

Around the Xi Shi execution ground, the crowd grew denser; the merchants of Xi Shi abandoned their stalls, the porter set down his load, and even the old man selling sugar paintings at the alley entrance pushed his cart in…

The densely packed heads swayed in the cold wind, like wheat waves stirred by the breeze.

The crowd that had been murmuring low suddenly erupted; someone pointed at the bald monk pinned to the execution pillar, voice filled with incredulous astonishment: "Look!"

"Isn't that Master Hui Neng!"

The shout, like a stone dropped into boiling water, instantly churned the whole discussion.

An old woman with a vegetable basket tiptoed forward, squinting with her cataract‑clouded eyes for a moment, then slapped her thigh and shouted: "Hey, you don't say that, it really is Master Hui Neng!"

The young daughter‑in‑law beside her also nodded, her voice full of surprise: "How did the old man get bound to that pillar?!"

The crowd, like a wasp nest pricked open, buzzed sharply louder.

A lay devotee who often offered incense at Tan Hua Temple squeezed to the front row, watching the tattered monk robe and tear‑streaked face of Hui Neng, stamping his foot anxiously.

The onlookers' gazes just shifted from Hui Neng when a figure dressed in a dark python robe beside the execution pillar drew their attention.

A peddler who had just rushed in from Outside City, bearing a shoulder pole, tiptoed and stared for a while, tugged a neighbor's sleeve, and asked in a coarse voice: "Who is that fierce‑looking person next to Master Hui Neng?"

An old woman clutching prayer beads stared at Zhao Qian's python robe, her finger suddenly froze, the beads scattering on the ground unnoticed: "He's wearing a four‑claw python robe, not under sixty years old, and his face is full of flabby flesh!"

"Could it be…?!"

One should know that only a pillar‑state or a princely king can wear a python robe…

Yet among the royal princely kings, none are of such age!

The scholar beside the peddler adjusted his crooked headscarf, exclaiming in surprise: "It's the Duke of Chu shown in the verse, Zhao Qian!"

"It's the Duke of Chu!" the cloth shop owner opposite, stroking his beard, echoed, "I've seen him on patrol from afar…"

The murmurs in the crowd gradually twisted into a single thread; a physician carrying a medicine box pushed to the front, frowned and muttered: "What does the Duke of Chu intend by seizing Master Hui Neng?"

The earlier peddler, still bearing his pole, answered in a gruff, resonant tone: "I don't know! This wolf‑hearted, ambitious pillar‑state is certainly up to no good!"

As the chatter threatened to overturn the execution ground, a few angry shouts rang from the crowd's periphery, the crisp clash of iron armor echoing: "Silence!"

The leading man, dark‑skinned, scanned the arena with his round eyes, his voice booming like a bell: "Old Zhao the pillar has something to say!"

Immediately, the private soldiers stepped forward, their waist‑long swords half‑drawn, cold light flashing; the previously noisy crowd instantly shrank, the chatter like a strangled throat gradually quieted.

The timid already retreated, even the previously loudest peddler, still bearing his pole, shut his mouth muttering.

"What a great official authority!" many subjugated townsfolk couldn't help cursing inwardly.

"Citizens of Chang'an, perhaps some of you know me…"

Zhao Qian inhaled deeply, then cleared his throat sharply; the cough rang harshly in the silent execution ground, and he declared loudly: "I am the current pillar‑state, Grand Minister of Justice Zhao Qian!"

He paused deliberately, his gaze sweeping the faces below—some reverent, some doubtful—then abruptly turned, extended a hand still shackled, pointing at the bound Hui Neng: "And he—"

"Surely many of you have heard of him, the Tan Hua Temple monk Hui Neng!"

"Ugh—!"

"It's not the old monk!" shouted the bound Hui Neng in his heart.

"That verse wasn't spoken by the old monk!"

"It was someone impersonating…"

Hui Neng strained to defend himself, but his mouth was tightly gagged.

He couldn't utter a single sound!

Before the sermon that day, he had already been drugged, unaware who was impersonating him…

And as soon as he awoke, the Duke of Chu's private soldiers stormed Tan Hua Temple, seized him, giving him no chance to plead!

Zhao Qian stared intently at Hui Neng on the pillar, his graying beard bristling with anger, each word forced out like teeth‑gritted: "These days in Chang'an, the uproarious verse was deliberately fabricated by this rogue to deceive hearts!"

"I, here, must defend myself with a single sentence: the so‑called Zhao Rang Chiwu, the so‑called Xin Yuan Zhaolong, are pure slanders and fabrications!"

"I have devoted my life to loyalty to the sovereign and the state; how could I commit treason!"

"This rogue's motives are inscrutable; he is a spy sent by the Qi State to sow chaos in Great Zhou!"

As soon as Zhao Qian finished speaking, the audience fell into a death‑like silence, then erupted into even more turbulent chatter, like an ant hill that had been pried open.

"A Qi State spy? Impossible!" a white‑bearded old man with a cane slammed his staff onto the ground, "Master Huineng has lived in Chang'an for nearly thirty years; he was lecturing at Tanhua Temple when I was still a kid. If he were really a spy, his tracks would have shown long ago!"

Several elderly neighbors beside him nodded, and an old woman wrapped in a thick cotton coat voiced doubt: "Master Huineng is a spy?"

"Master Huineng has been at Tanhua Temple for decades, relieving disaster victims, accumulating virtue, spreading the Dharma widely—how could he be a spy?"

"The Duke of Chu must be going mad, biting people at random!"

"Even if the verses were fabricated..." the accountant in a blue robe sneered, "then how should we explain the one‑eyed stone statue in the Wei River?"

"We can't say the statue is a spy too, can we?"

One could pin the blame on Master Huineng as a living person, but slandering the one‑eyed stone statue as a spy would be excessive, right?

This inanimate thing can't suddenly gain sentience and then side with the Qi State, can it?

"Exactly!"

Even the merchants who had been watching for fun furrowed their brows and muttered to those beside them, "I feel the Duke of Chu is trying to cover something up, only making it more obvious..."

"I heard someone mention that one‑eyed stone statue..."

Zhao Qian looked at the murmuring crowd below, then suddenly laughed; his hoarse laugh was resolute, like cold wind sweeping through dead wood.

He raised his hand to halt the Private Soldiers' shouts and shouted, "The demonic artifact inscribed to confuse people's hearts is also here!"

Before his words finished, he gave a signal to the Private Soldiers below.

Two Xuan Armor men strode forward to the object covered with a red cloth; with a snap of their wrists, the heavy red cloth went "whoosh" as it was ripped away, revealing the bluish‑gray stone statue beneath — the very one‑eyed stone statue.

The inscription "Do not think the stone man with one eye incites the world to rebel along the Wei River" glimmered with a cold light in the dim daylight.

"Master Huineng and the one‑eyed stone statue are both present; what exactly does the Duke of Chu intend to do?"

The common folk below, witnessing the scene, exchanged puzzled looks, full of confusion.

Zhao Qian smiled wryly, his voice bearing a confident ferocity: "Today I will personally smash this one‑eyed stone statue and personally slay that rogue bald donkey, to crush the rumors of usurping and rebellion!"

"To prove my innocence!"

The crowd below instantly erupted into chaos.

"What?!"

"He not only wants to destroy the one‑eyed stone statue, but also to kill Master Huineng?!"

Everyone was stunned.

"Master Huineng is a preeminent monk of our age; the Duke of Chu acting thus—does he not fear retribution from the Buddha?!" the accountant in a blue robe, his hands trembling, demanded loudly.

Zhao Qian's gaze, like frozen iron, locked tightly onto the one‑eyed stone statue.

He snatched the iron hammer from the Private Soldier's hand; the cold seeping up the iron shaft crawled up his palm, yet it could not extinguish the madness in his eyes.

"Demonic thing!" he growled low, swinging the iron hammer and smashing it hard at the statue's single eye.

A crisp "Clang!" rang out, and bluish‑gray stone shards scattered.

The hammer fell repeatedly, smashing the statue's head and body into fragments; in an instant it became a pile of broken stone.

After shattering the statue, Zhao Qian spun sharply, his scarlet eyes sweeping toward Master Huineng on the execution pillar.

A Private Soldier immediately handed him a long sword, its blade flashing a dazzling light in the sun.

"Die!" Zhao, the veteran minister roared, swinging the sword; the blade cut through the cold wind with a sharp whoosh.

"No—!" a heart‑rending cry rose from the crowd below.

The moment the blade descended, Dugu Zhao galloped in from afar, his voice hoarse with urgency: "Brother Zhao, please don't kill Huineng!"

But whether he hurried or lagged, he still arrived a step too late.....

Fresh blood spurted out, staining the tattered monk's robe red, and also reddening the Qingshi Shiban beneath the execution pillar.