Chapter 21: Chapter Twenty-One: The Spirit of Heroic Righteousness

In the eastern part of Shangjing, on Chongwu Street, every mansion is that of a military officer or a general.

Outside the residence of Han Xiu, Minister of War.

“Please announce me—I, Chen Ji, seek an audience with Minister Han.”

Chen Ji said anxiously.

The gatekeeper sized up Chen Ji, then impatiently waved him off: “Go away, go away! Where did this madman come from? Do you think you can just walk in and see our master?” The gatekeepers rolled up their sleeves, ready to drive him out.

“This is the token Master Han gave me!”

Chen Ji pulled out a black iron token from his robe.

The token was old and damaged, one corner severed cleanly by a sharp blade; one side bore the characters “Zhenbei Army,” the other “Hundred-Commander Han Xiu.”

This was the token Han Xiu once held as a Hundred-Commander in the Zhenbei Army; after being wounded and leaving the northern frontier, he gave three such tokens to the descendants of fallen heroes, declaring that anyone in need could come to his home with it.

The lead gatekeeper recognized the token and bowed repeatedly:

“Forgive this humble servant’s ignorance, Young Master, please wait a moment—I’ll go inform the master at once.” He hurried inside and soon returned with Li, the household steward.

“So it’s Young Master Chen. Minister Han is not at home at the moment—has something troubling you?”

The steward, around fifty, wore a scholar’s headband and exuded quiet elegance; as he spoke, he gestured Chen Ji inside.

They had met before. Every year, Han Xiu privately aided the descendants of the three fallen heroes; in earlier years, he handled it himself, but after rising to office and becoming burdened with duties, he entrusted the task to Li.

Chen Ji’s situation was unusual—his father died fighting in the northern frontier, his mother perished in an epidemic.

Each year, after receiving silver from Han Xiu, Chen Ji gave every last tael to the impoverished descendants of fallen heroes.

Han Xiu once remarked: “This boy carries a spirit of ‘heroic righteousness.’”

“When will Master Han return?”

Chen Ji asked urgently.

“He should be back soon. If you have an urgent matter, tell this old man—I may be able to help you first.”

Li smiled.

Chen Ji didn’t think Li could help, but he told him anyway—he had come to Han’s mansion for the first time to ask Han Xiu to plead for Lu Fang.

Li’s smile faded when he heard of Chen Ji’s clash with Xiao Jincheng, the grandson of the Three Excellencies.

He thought that was the end of it.

Then he heard that Chen Ji’s “friend” had publicly killed Xiao Jincheng!

“Ah!”

Li’s voice trembled.

The Xiao family was among the most powerful nobles in Shangjing; if their heir had merely exchanged harsh words, Minister Han could have mediated.

But killing a Xiao heir? Even Han Xiu, Minister of War, would be powerless.

Chen Ji kept talking…

When Li heard the killer was a disciple of the Half-Sage Xu Han Yi, had forced the Inspector Xiao Xun to kneel, and was protected by Inspector Liu Wenyu, his body went numb.

“Young Master Chen, this matter is too grave for this old man to handle. Minister Han should be returning from the palace soon—please wait in the study.”

Li led him to the study, then left with a bitter smile.

About half an hour passed.

Han Xiu returned from the palace still in his court robes; upon hearing from Li that Chen Ji had come because “Lu Fang killed Xiao Jincheng,” he entered the study with unmistakable admiration.

“Uncle Han.”

Chen Ji bowed and blurted out: “Today, I had a… with Xiao Jincheng, grandson of the Three Excellencies…”

Han Xiu raised a hand, stopping him:

“I already know the full story from the palace. Don’t worry, Your Majesty sees clearly—he knows Xiao Jincheng provoked first, seeking to kill Lu Fang. He has only ordered Lu Fang confined and given thirty strokes of the cane.”

Xiao Jincheng had insulted the Zhenbei Army; Chen Ji had spoken out against tyranny.

Han Xiu had seen the truth through the memory talisman—he was glad he hadn’t misjudged Chen Ji; the boy’s rare spirit of “heroic righteousness” surpassed even his father’s.

Chen Ji exhaled in relief: “That’s good. That’s good.”

Han Xiu mused: “The Xiao family has lost a direct heir—they won’t let this go easily. Stay away from Lu Fang as much as you can, or you’ll be dragged down with him.”

Chen Ji bowed deeply: “Uncle Han, I know you mean well, but I cannot do that.”

“Sigh! Your stubbornness!”

Han Xiu sighed, knowing Chen Ji’s nature, and changed the subject:

“In a few days is your father’s anniversary. Light some incense for him on my behalf. You’ve helped so many impoverished descendants of fallen heroes—do you still have enough silver? When you leave, I’ll have…”

…

Li’s residence on Wanfeng Street.

After respectfully seeing off Liu Wenyu, Li Yu paced over to Lu Fang, who lay slumped on a chair, and said:

“You’ve got guts—killing Xiao Jincheng on your first day at Wenyuan Academy. Don’t you know he’s the grandson of the Three Excellencies, his grandfather was the former Minister of Literature, and his father is Minister of Justice?”

“Ouch, ooh…”

Lu Fang had just received thirty strokes of the cane; every movement made him grimace. He snapped: “Xiao Jincheng was trying to kill me—was I supposed to just stand there and let him? I’m your little uncle. Mind your tone.”

Li Yu frowned, rolled his eyes:

“The Xiao family has a grudge against our sect. Next time, Little, Teacher, Uncle, think twice before acting—you might walk right into their trap.”

“The Emperor only confined you and gave you thirty strokes because Xiao Jincheng attacked first, and because of Grandmaster’s reputation. Next time, it won’t be so simple.”

Lu Fang asked: “What grudge does the Xiao family have with our sect?”

Li Yu’s expression grew colder as he spoke:

“When Xiao Wanlin was Minister of Literature, he also held the post of Minister of War. On the northern battlefield, to protect his own family’s dozen or so sons in the Zhenbei Army, he allowed thirty thousand soldiers to be wiped out by the barbarians.”

“When Grandmaster found out, he slapped Xiao Wanlin over a hundred times. That’s how the feud began.”

“Ever since, Xiao family disciples and descendants have seized every chance to accuse our sect’s members before the throne—whether they’re right or wrong.”

Lu Fang lowered his voice: “Master is, after all, the greatest beneath a Sage—hasn’t he ever thought of wiping out the Xiao family?”

In terms of power, Half-Sage Xu Han Yi should have been more than equal.

Li Yu shook his head, smiling bitterly: “First, Grandmaster isn’t that kind of man. Second, the Xiao family’s ancestors were among the Three Excellencies, with several Half-Sages still standing. Xiao Wanlin was former Minister of Literature; their disciples and descendants fill the court and the provinces.”

“And they’re imperial in-laws—their power is far greater than you imagine. Just be careful around the Xios from now on.”

“No wonder Xiao Jincheng dared kill openly,” Lu Fang muttered coldly.

Did he regret it? Of course not. Someone tried to kill him, threatened to kill his whole family—what was there to regret?

Ask if he regretted it? Of course not—others wanted to kill him, threatened to kill his whole family; what did he have to regret?

A high-pitched voice came from outside the parlor.

A fat man with a protruding belly waddled in, swaying heavily, then dramatically unfurled a fan, grinning with self-assurance: “I heard your little uncle Lu Fang is here—I’ve urgent business with him.”

This man was He Zixuan, son of the Minister of Literature.

He had once held a nominal post as a Censor in the Ministry of Revenue.

After the Minister of Literature founded the Great Zhou Literary Gazette, the Son of Heaven transferred him to oversee all matters related to the Gazette.

After Wen Xiang founded the Great Zhou Literary Gazette, he was transferred by the Son of Heaven to handle all matters concerning the gazette.