Chapter 105: Use My Own Technique Against Me?

The Poison Scorpion’s lips trembled, his voice shaking: “You… how did you do this?”

Jiang Mingyu stared at the Poison Scorpion, his tone dripping with mockery: “You’ve heard I wiped out hundreds of Western Xia cavalry, but do you know how they died?”

The Poison Scorpion instinctively pressed: “What do you mean?”

As Jiang Mingyu explained, the Poison Scorpion felt a chill, as if an invisible hand had clamped around his throat.

He realized he was trapped—his plan had utterly failed, and Jiang Mingyu before him seemed to wield some impossible power.

Jiang Mingyu’s expression remained cold, his voice laced with disdain: “It means the method I used back then was nearly identical to the one you just prepared.”

He launched into a detailed account, laying out every detail without mercy.

The Poison Scorpion sat stunned, as if struck by wave after wave, unable to recover.

Jiang Mingyu continued: “If we’re being polite, I’m your ancestor when it comes to schemes and tricks.”

“From the moment you feigned surrender, I knew it was a trap—set for me.” He dismantled each step of the Poison Scorpion’s plan like unwinding a precision mechanism.

Jiang Mingyu’s tone teemed with mockery: “With your two-bit tricks, how dare you show your face before me? Still think His Majesty went blind? Still want to burn paper money for me?”

His voice dripped with mockery, as if taunting a foolish clown.

The Poison Scorpion’s face turned from red to pale, desperate to crawl into a crack in the floor.

Jiang Mingyu’s eyes held contempt: “You called me mud that won’t stick to the wall—then what are you? Mud that won’t even stick?”

He goaded further: “You really think your schemes are flawless? To me, your little tricks are no different from a clown on stage.”

Jiang Mingyu’s tone grew even more contemptuous: “You say I’ve passed my naive years? I say you, Master Pei, are adorably childish.”

He sneered: “A brain short on weight—do you really think you’re fit to scheme against me?”

Jiang Mingyu’s voice brimmed with disdain: “To be honest, your head only serves to make you taller—it does nothing else.”

Under Jiang Mingyu’s mockery, the Poison Scorpion lost the last shred of his dignity, his fury and shame twisting together.

His face contorted, as if on the verge of collapse.

The Poison Scorpion cried in disbelief, voice shrill and rapid, terror and despair etched on his face: “You drank the poisoned wine—why didn’t you die? Why?!”

Jiang Mingyu slowly raised his damp sleeve, his voice calm: “See clearly? While the lamps were dim, we poured all the poison onto our sleeves—this was my plan from the start.”

“As for why I knew the wine was poisoned—it was because your men brought the wrong wine, and your odd behavior gave you away.” Jiang Mingyu spoke slowly, each word deliberate: “You thought you could outwit me? How naive.”

“Now your bandits and you are surrounded by my troops—will you surrender, or not?” Jiang Mingyu raised an eyebrow.

The Poison Scorpion scanned the room quickly, realizing escape was impossible. He forced a twisted smile: “Lord Jiang, you’ve gained the upper hand this round. But you’re still in my hands—my men still have a chance to live.”

Before he finished, he yanked a dagger from his waist and pressed it to Jiang Mingyu’s throat, his voice icy: “Order your men to let us go—or I’ll kill you!”

“I’m a nervous man, easily startled. If my hand slips and I miss my aim, I’ll be terribly sorry, Lord Jiang.”

Jiang Mingyu frowned, yet showed no fear—only a weary shake of his head: “On the way here, my men said you were clever. Looks like we misjudged you.”

“Can’t you see the situation? You think holding me hostage lets you walk away alive?”

Jiang Mingyu suddenly asked: “Tell me, do you know a bandit named Old Yu on Black Wind Ridge?”

The Poison Scorpion nodded: “He was the most feared gang leader in Shangmu—who doesn’t know him?”

Jiang Mingyu smiled: “You’ve got some sense. Then do you know who killed him?”

As the Poison Scorpion hesitated, Tukesiluo, cloaked in a dusty mantle, spoke softly: “I did.”

The Poison Scorpion, stunned, felt his vision blur—and his wrist holding the dagger went numb.

By the time he reacted, the dagger was already firmly held in Tukesiluo’s hand.

Tukesiluo traced the blade’s edge with a finger, skeptical: “This thing can kill?” He applied slight pressure—the gleaming dagger snapped cleanly in two.

Jiang Mingyu shook his head: “Show me your last tricks—let me see what else you’ve got.”

The crisp clatter of the fallen dagger shattered the Poison Scorpion’s final illusion of control.

His legs buckled—he collapsed to his knees before Jiang Mingyu: “My lord, I was wrong. I’ll never dare again.”

“I’ll disband my gang at dawn tomorrow and return to farming. Please spare my life.”

His voice was dry, as if he hadn’t drunk water in days—his plea to return to farming and beg for mercy filled every word.

Jiang Mingyu sneered: “You won’t get that chance. If you were me, would you spare someone who tried to kill you?”

His voice was mocking and cold: “In your own words, your fate is one: die far from home.”

Jiang Mingyu ordered loudly: “Arrest these bandits. Anyone who resists—kill on sight.”

Hundreds of bandits, faces ashen, were forced to submit and be bound.

Tukesiluo asked: “My lord, how shall we handle this treacherous Poison Scorpion?”

Jiang Mingyu surveyed the scene: “Keep them all under close watch. Tomorrow morning, I still have use for them.”

Jiang Mingyu commanded: “Dog Egg, take your men and search the gang’s hideout thoroughly—see if any stragglers remain.” Hu Zi, bearded and gruff, answered with a grunt and dragged the still-pleading Poison Scorpion out.

As the Poison Scorpion and captives were led away, Jiang Mingyu’s stomach growled loudly. He immediately snatched a chicken leg from the table and shoved it toward his mouth.

Seeing him devour like a starving ghost, Zhuge Yu rushed forward to stop him: “Master, what are you doing? Don’t you want to live?”

Jiang Mingyu didn’t hesitate—he bit down hard: “The poison was all in the wine. This is fine.”

His expression was certain, as if he’d already seen through the Poison Scorpion’s tricks. Zhuge Yu stared, surprised, then nodded.

“The Poison Scorpion may have stored plenty of grain, but he wouldn’t be so wasteful. If they poisoned the wine, they wouldn’t touch the food.” Jiang Mingyu’s tone was confident.

He waved to the soldiers before him: “What are you standing around for? Eat! Three days of dry buns—meat’s far better.”

Seeing their county magistrate eat without restraint, the soldiers—who rarely tasted meat—quickly joined in, enjoying a long-awaited feast.

The only complaint: the wine and meat left outside the hall had grown tough to chew.

Zhuge Yu, of noble birth, looked down disdainfully at Jiang Mingyu, who devoured meat with grease dripping from his lips: “Gulping like a beast—what decorum!”

Yet even Zhuge Yu couldn’t resist the scent. After hours without food, his stomach began to protest.

After brief inner struggle, the ever-meat-fed Mr. Zhuge joined the feast without hesitation: “So good.” His face glowed with satisfaction.

As the crowd feasted hungrily, Li Dog Egg burst in, panting: “My lord! We’ve found something huge!” His voice trembled with excitement.

Jiang Mingyu still chewed meat, his words muffled: “Found what?” Li Dog Egg didn’t answer—he grabbed Jiang Mingyu’s arm and dragged him straight to a secret chamber.

Inside, stacks of gleaming silver ingots shimmered under the candlelight.

“This is…” Jiang Mingyu’s eyes widened, disbelief etched on his face. “My lord, preliminary estimate—at least tens of thousands of taels of silver!”

Li Dog Egg replied nervously, unsure of Jiang Mingyu’s reaction.

Jiang Mingyu fell silent, then gritted his teeth: “Of course. This Poison Scorpion has preyed on this region for years—how much wealth has he stolen from the people?”

“Wait—by tomorrow at the latest, I…”

Before he finished, another soldier ran in: “Outside, we’ve found more strange things—you must see them yourself!”