Chapter 743: Leaving the Capital for the Rivers and Lakes

Doo—!

At the third watch of the Yin hour, a low horn echoed from the corner tower of the Forbidden City.

The Zhuque Gate groaned open amid the grinding of gears and winches.

Five hundred Xuanjia Jinwu Guards lined both sides of the imperial road, holding vermilion shields embossed with bronze nails inscribed “Silence” and “Keep Clear,” while behind them stood Ritual Officers from the Taichang Temple, bearing nine-streamer black banners.

The statue of the Sui Lun Zhenjun stood over twelve feet tall, making the surrounding crowd seem minuscule; it was carried slowly forward on a black iron palanquin by three hundred and twenty military strongmen.

This was the state sacrificial hall, solemn with music and ritual; all court officials, high and low, had arrived, yet not a single soul dared make a sound—only walking in step with the procession.

At the first watch of the Chen hour, the Jingyang Bell rang within the palace.

Emperor Xiao Qixuan ascended his carriage wearing the twelve-symbol ceremonial robe and crown, followed by stern-faced leaders of the Daoist sects: Zhang Tianshi from Longhu Mountain and Qiu Changchun from Zhongnan.

Below the vermilion steps of the Sheji Hall, the Commandant’s Firearm Unit formed a human wall, their matchlock rifles propped on the ground, barrels glinting cold blue in the morning light.

As the statue was slowly carried into the hall by the strongmen, the Minister of Public Works recited aloud from the “Yu Ren” chapter of the Kao Gong Ji, while twelve white-haired Grand Officiants from the Zongrenfu shook the “Mountains and Rivers Banner,” adorned with countless bronze bells.

Then came the elaborate ritual of opening the eyes.

Simultaneously led by several Daoist patriarchs—a spectacle unseen in a hundred years, last seen only at the founding of the Great Xuan Dynasty.

Yet Emperor Xiao Qixuan’s face remained grim.

To fall short at the final step, to compromise at the last moment—it was still unsightly.

At that moment, commotion erupted outside the hall: four giant oxen, dyed black, were driven to the steps, their ears tied with copper plaques marked “Shuntian Prefecture Official Pasture.”

The Deputy Minister of Ritual pierced their necks with a jade dagger; their blood flowed into a bronze dew-collecting basin, each step strictly conforming to ancient rites.

The court officials stationed outside the temple exchanged glances of varied meaning.

If they had previously harbored doubts about the emperor’s grand project of erecting this statue, the presence of the major Daoist patriarchs now left no doubt as to its importance.

Of course, they knew nothing of its true nature.

Most were merely considering how to position themselves at the forefront of this transformation…

……

Within and beyond the Nine Gates, in alleys and markets, the noise was equally loud and lively.

Along Zhuque Street, crowds surged thickly; on both sides of the imperial road cleared by the Jinwu Guards, human walls rose in layers, all tiptoeing and craning their necks toward the palace gates.

Windows of tea houses and taverns on the second floor were packed solid; even bold children clung to the window frames, their small heads pressed tightly together.

Among the crowd, vendors moved like fish through gaps, hawking: “Protective peach charms—touch them for the Zhenjun’s blessing!”

“Mint water, sour plum soup—refreshing and thirst-quenching!”

The jingling of peddlers’ copper bells mingled with the cries of infants in mothers’ arms and the coarse chatter of men, blending into a buzzing din.

The air reeked of wheat from steamed buns and sesame cakes, greasy smoke from freshly fried doughnuts, mixed with the stench of sweat—forming a strange, thick odor.

In addition, folk music troupes in the streets added to the festivity, their wind and percussion instruments clashing in loud, exuberant northern style.

Several acrobatic troupes had hastily cleared open spaces; lion dancers leapt and twisted, drawing cheers, while restless children mimicked them, draped in colorful rags, twisting and weaving through the crowd…

……

The Wangjiang Tower in the southern city was the tallest tavern in the south.

From its fourth-floor pavilion, one could see the distant sails on the Tonghui River and hear the drumming and music drifting from the imperial city.

The air was thick with alcohol; the table was littered with empty cups and plates.

Kuai Dayou picked his teeth, while Lin Fatty’s round face beamed with a smile as he eagerly refilled Luo Mingzi’s cup. “Master Daoist, drain this cup—don’t dwell on those troubling matters.”

Across from them, the young scholar Kong Shangzhao sat with his head bowed, idly tracing the rim of his coarse porcelain cup with his fingertips.

Sensing the moment was right, Kuai Dayou gave a glance; Lin Fatty cleared his throat and pleaded earnestly to Luo Mingzi: “Master Daoist, without Master Kong, we cannot possibly find the legendary ‘Bohai Qiu Wood’ in the south!”

“His knowledge of ancient texts and maps is even better than my Lin Fatty’s entire shipyard inventory! Could you please make an exception…?”

The Commandant’s Office had been returned to the control of the Grand Eunuch Zhao Wujiu.

He was a ruthless man; their original plans were now unusable. Hearing Luo Mingzi was recuperating at home in gloom, they had come to beg his help.

Luo Mingzi said nothing, merely leaned against the window frame, gazing at the bustling docks, letting out a short, bitter chuckle—as if mocking himself.

He did not turn, his rough fingers gripping the cup, knuckles white: “Young Master Lin, even you are trying to deceive this humble Daoist…”

Slowly turning his head, his face stubbled with blue beard, weary but calm, he looked at Kong Shangzhao: “If you wish to join Li Yan and others and venture into the rivers and lakes, then go. I won’t stop you.”

Kong Shangzhao’s face lit up; he rose at once, bowing deeply, his eyes filled with shame: “I promised Master Daoist I would join the Commandant’s Office—now I break my word…”

“No need to explain.”

Luo Mingzi waved him off, tipped back the cup in one swallow, then slammed it down hard, his gaze turning cold and hard.

“This spectacle the capital has staged…”

His voice sank, carrying a faint trace of sorrow: “The matter of the Qiankun Academy—both the Enforcement Hall and I were pushed aside. Though the Daoist patriarchs forced His Majesty to compromise, future suppression of the Daoist sects will only intensify.”

“I’ve heard His Majesty has ordered Zhao Wujiu to investigate the Jianmu affair. Now I’m forgotten by all; soon I’ll be forced to obey others’ orders.”

“I, Luo Mingzi, am no man chasing wealth or status—but the Jianmu demons have not yet been slain, the capital’s situation is complex, and I do not know if there will ever be hope again.”

He exhaled, as if shedding a heavy burden:

“Go. You are brilliant, and already a thorn in the eyes of some in the Commandant’s Office. With the capital in this state, I can no longer protect you—better to leave now.”

Kong Shangzhao nodded sharply, eyes slightly red, speechless.

Luo Mingzi had not only helped him out of trouble, but shown him trust and opportunity.

Since childhood, his clan had deemed him mad; these past days, though exhausting, were the first time he could truly act—thanks to Luo Mingzi’s unconditional faith.

But before he could speak, Luo Mingzi shifted tone, his expression turning grave: “Yet as you journey south with the Twelve Yuan Chen, you must also do me one favor.”

“Easy!”

“Not one—hundred, even!”

Lin Fatty and Kuai Dayou beamed, slapping their chests in promise.

Luo Mingzi nodded slightly, scanning them all: “Coastal piracy in the south rages fiercely; many Daoist disciples have been lured overseas with heavy pay, leaving the sects vulnerable—demons run rampant, heretical sects rise again.”

“Recently, a ‘Ghost Opera Troupe’ has committed several major crimes—its methods are deeply sinister! In Shu, they once conspired with Jianmu demons.”

Leaning forward, Luo Mingzi lowered his voice: “I’ll ask Li Yan to help investigate. Kong, your mind is sharp—travel with Li Yan and watch closely: is this the Jianmu demons’ plan?”

“I’ll remain in the capital—so this matter isn’t left unattended.”

Lin Fatty rushed to promise: “Master Luo, rest assured! I know every dock and waterway—if there’s any demonic trickery, I’ll dig up clues three feet deep!”

Kuai Dayou nodded vigorously: “Yes, yes! Whatever demons, leave it to us!”

Though Kuai Dayou was a skilled artisan, he was young, impulsive, and had clashed with the elder masters of the Craft Guild—he longed to leave the capital and travel far.

But going alone felt too lonely.

To make this happen filled him with quiet joy.