Chapter 109: Wang Zhe

One day later, they arrived at the state capital.

Before the towering, solemn city gate, Jiang Mingyu on horseback could not help but sigh: “You shouldn’t have come.”

Tukeslu frowned deeply, his gaze anxious as he looked at Jiang Mingyu, his voice low.

His hands gripped the reins tightly, knuckles whitening from the pressure.

Tukeslu, draped in a snow-white greatcoat, smiled: “Isn’t it too late to say this now?” he countered, his eyes cold, a faint sneer curling his lips.

His sharp gaze swept over the city gate like a drawn sword.

“The governor already said it: if it’s fortune, no harm comes; if it’s disaster, no fleeing avoids it. Let’s enter the city.”

He sighed helplessly, then resolutely led the way inside.

His wide white greatcoat billowed behind him, his stern profile radiating resolve.

Behind him, Jiang Mingyu shook his head in resignation and followed Tukeslu’s steps.

He sighed, half-laughing, half-exasperated, and followed Tukeslu into the city.

He watched Tukeslu’s back with complex eyes, his heart filled with deep emotion.

As they entered the Inspector’s residence, Jiang Mingyu, who had been uneasy moments before, gradually calmed.

He took a deep breath, his gaze hardening, his spine straightening. His steps grew steady and strong, his expression composed once more.

Thinking of his earlier worries, he silently mocked himself: “Even if there really is some trick, what can it matter?”

He clenched his fists, deliberately ignoring the unease in his chest.

“I fear not even the Xixia cavalry who kill without blinking—why should I fear the Prince of Qi?” He clenched his fists tighter, summoning courage.

His chest rose and fell as he drew in a deep breath.

“As long as I live today, I will one day lead an army myself and take the Prince of Qi’s life—once and for all.” His eyes blazed with furious fire.

His pupils gleamed, his voice firm and resolute.

Jiang Mingyu glanced calmly at Tukeslu beside him, then stepped forward, heading straight for the main hall.

His steps were unwavering, no trace of hesitation left.

His spine straight, his aura fully unleashed, he faced everything head-on.

Wang Zhe looked exactly as before: dressed in official robes, his beard streaked with gray, a faint smile still on his face.

Jiang Mingyu bowed slightly: “Inspector, may I ask why you summoned me?” He spoke with proper respect, posture upright, eyes clear and unyielding.

Wang Zhe lifted his gaze from the documents on his desk: “Jiang Da Ren, how have you been lately?” he asked with a warm smile, his tone gentle, his face radiant—as if he held no ill will toward Jiang Mingyu.

Jiang Mingyu’s expression remained respectful: “Thank you for your concern, I am as ever.” He answered humbly, his eyes fixed on Wang Zhe.

His demeanor was submissive, his responses cautious.

Wang Zhe rose and scrutinized Jiang Mingyu from head to toe: “Jiang Da Ren, you have great audacity,” he said, narrowing his eyes, his tone suddenly chilling.

Jiang Mingyu remained unruffled on the surface, but inwardly thought: Is it beginning already? His face stayed calm, his fists clenched tightly inside.

Beside him, Tukeslu’s expression subtly changed; his grip on his sword scabbard tightened.

His brows knitted deeply, his eyes locked on Wang Zhe, as if trying to pierce through his thoughts.

Jiang Mingyu smiled calmly: “What have I done to provoke such outrage that it has reached the Inspector’s ears?” He asked humbly, his expression deferential.

Wang Zhe did not soften his tone: “Jiang Da Ren, before me, will you not speak the truth?” he raised his voice, his tone stern.

“You led troops to purge bandits—such a major matter, and you didn’t even inform me?” He pressed forward, adopting an interrogative stance.

“Are you afraid I’d steal your glory?” Wang Zhe teased, aiming to mock Jiang Mingyu.

Hearing it was about this, Tukeslu—who had been on edge—finally exhaled in quiet relief.

He loosened his grip on his sword, his shoulders relaxing.

Jiang Mingyu’s tense body also relaxed unconsciously: “A minor matter, how could I dare trouble you?” He replied humbly.

“Now that the bandit threat in Shangmu has been quelled, I can focus entirely on the Xixia.” His tone was earnest, showing loyalty.

Wang Zhe paced: “Jiang Da Ren, this is no minor matter,” he stopped, his expression serious as he countered.

“I will submit a memorial to the court, petition His Majesty to grant you merit.” He revealed another purpose.

“If His Majesty learns of your actions in Shangmu, he will surely be pleased.” Wang Zhe’s words carried hidden meaning.

Jiang Mingyu smiled faintly: “All due to your wise guidance, Inspector—I dare not claim credit.” He deflected humbly, cautiously probing.

The situation was still unclear—better to proceed with caution.

He secretly speculated on Wang Zhe’s intent, his face calm, his vigilance heightened.

Wang Zhe waved his hand: “Jiang Da Ren, no need for such formality,” he smiled warmly, adopting a friendly demeanor, his lips curved gently, radiating approachability.

“From your annihilation of the Xixia to your recent bandit purge, I can see you are an exceptional talent.” Wang Zhe praised, a flicker of approval in his eyes, nodding in affirmation.

“I regard you as one of my own—I wish to speak plainly with you. Would you care to listen?” He asked with a touch of flattery, leaning forward, hands on the desk, signaling intimacy.

He fixed his gaze on Jiang Mingyu’s eyes; the earlier smile vanished.

His expression turned serious, his thick brows furrowed, his mouth downturned—his whole aura shifted to one of serious intent.

Jiang Mingyu thought inwardly: Just say it already—I’d rather not waste time dancing around with you.

But outwardly, he quickly donned a look of humble fear: “I beg you to instruct me.”

Wang Zhe nodded: “Jiang Da Ren, if I recall correctly, you once served as His Majesty’s childhood companion,” he hesitated slightly, then bluntly revealed Jiang Mingyu’s identity.

His tone was certain, his eyes sharp.

“Though you are stationed in Shangmu, you must have heard whispers of court affairs.” Wang Zhe speculated, his gaze deep as he studied Jiang Mingyu.

“Now that His Majesty has ascended the throne, his foundation is still unstable—many are watching the dragon throne.” He hinted at court turmoil, his voice low, his expression grave.

He continued, speaking to himself: “The rift between His Majesty and the Prince of Qi grows wider every day.” His pace quickened, his emotion rising; he rose and paced the room.

“The Prince of Qi’s defiance of His Majesty is common knowledge—what he intends to do is known throughout Da Feng.” Wang Zhe continued, his face troubled, sighing repeatedly.

“To speak plainly—though I shouldn’t—the Prince of Qi’s rebellion is inevitable.” His voice was barely audible, like a sigh, his face etched with worry.

Jiang Mingyu showed no reaction on his face, but inwardly weighed Wang Zhe’s intent.

Wang Zhe’s words were aggressive—suspicious. Was he trying to recruit him against the Prince of Qi?

He analyzed silently, his expression calm, his vigilance heightened.

Jiang Mingyu, who had been waiting for an opening, seized the moment: “Inspector, has something happened?”

He feigned concern, pressing Wang Zhe.

His brows knitted, his eyes fixed, his demeanor anxious.

Wang Zhe snorted: “You must have known long ago that Tang Cheng secretly went to Shangmu.” He spoke with disdain, his gaze sweeping toward Jiang Mingyu.

His tone dripped with contempt; he smirked, watching Jiang Mingyu with calm amusement.

“That man has treacherous ambitions—he plans to use your recruitment in Shangmu to bring me down.”

Wang Zhe said, his voice filled with outrage.

He clenched his fists, veins bulging, eyes blazing with anger, his lips twitching in fury.

“Though I have special authorization from the Ministry of Military Affairs, if the Prince of Qi exploits this, it will be another major problem.” He sighed, appearing worn out.

His shoulders slumped, he pressed his hand to his forehead, his face weary.

“Fortunately, I discovered it in time and gave Tang Cheng a stern warning—he abandoned the matter.”

Wang Zhe said proudly, lifting his chin, self-satisfied.

He puffed out his chest, raised his head, his smugness obvious.

Jiang Mingyu, upon hearing this, was overjoyed.

He quietly exhaled—Tang Cheng’s information had not leaked; he was still safe.

His expression finally relaxed, a small smile appearing, his gaze drifting unconsciously toward Tukeslu.

He never imagined that even in the state capital, Tang Cheng’s news had not reached anyone.

Jiang Mingyu glanced at Tukeslu; both saw relief in each other’s eyes.

Then he feigned concern: “One can be a thief for a thousand days, but one cannot guard against thieves for a thousand days.” He wore a worried expression.

He sighed, hands clasped tightly, brows furrowed, as if burdened by future troubles.

Wang Zhe signaled him not to worry: “Relax, Jiang Da Ren,” he comforted with a cheerful smile.

“On the very night I warned Tang Cheng, I submitted a full report to His Majesty.” Wang Zhe explained, his gaze open, his posture earnest.

“His Majesty is already prepared—even if the Prince of Qi tries to stir trouble, it won’t amount to much.” He spoke carelessly, confident and smiling.

Jiang Mingyu, hearing this, felt uneasy inside.

If Wang Zhe allied with His Majesty, and he angered the Prince of Qi, how could he survive?

He worried inwardly, yet forced a smile onto his face.

But Wang Zhe continued, speaking to himself: “Jiang Da Ren, you’re one of He Xiang’s men—I won’t beat around the bush with you,” he shifted tone, cutting straight to the point.

A sly smile lingered on his lips, a glint of cunning in his eyes.

“He Xiang is barely holding on himself—I must find another patron.” He explained his reasoning, his tone firm.

He shook his head, as if He Xiang was powerless.

“I know you once served as His Majesty’s companion—would you be willing to speak well of me to His Majesty when the time comes? I will help Him overthrow the Prince of Qi and remove this threat.” Wang Zhe’s eyes held a flicker of hope as he looked at Jiang Mingyu.

He clasped his hands together, earnestly pleading for Jiang Mingyu’s aid.

Jiang Mingyu, hearing this, was elated.

Wang Zhe wanted to recruit him—this was an excellent opportunity.

He widened his eyes in excitement.

“Inspector Wang, rest assured—I will personally report to His Majesty.” He agreed readily, his face glowing with joy.

His lips couldn’t help but curl upward, his eyes alight with excitement.

From his earlier words, it was clear Wang Zhe valued him greatly and hoped he would align with Jiang Mingyu’s faction.

Jiang Mingyu silently speculated that helping Wang Zhe board His Majesty’s carriage would solidify his own position.

He had already envisioned a bright future in his mind.

Jiang Mingyu could also use this opportunity to further expand his influence in Shangmu and prepare thoroughly for the elimination of Prince Qi.

A flicker of cunning glinted in his eyes, and a sly smile curved his lips.

Wang Zhe nodded with great satisfaction: “Good, Lord Jiang, I was right not to misjudge you. I’ll rely on you even more from now on.” He spoke approvingly, beaming.

He patted Jiang Mingyu’s shoulder in agreement, signaling their seamless cooperation.

His face was plastered with smiles, so wide they nearly reached his ears.

Jiang Mingyu couldn’t help but smile bitterly: “That’s all future talk—let’s wait until I’ve crushed the Western Xia, who will come sooner or later.” He changed the subject, indicating his determination to work hard.

The smile faded from his face; his tone grew serious once more.

His lips tightened into a straight line, and his brows furrowed deeper.

Jiang Mingyu thought: if his own head became a Western Xia chamber pot, all this would be empty words.

He clenched his fists tightly, realizing everything still rested on his ability to survive.

His fingernails dug deep into his palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks.

Wang Zhe sighed: “True, this is the paramount concern right now.” He nodded in agreement, sounding resolute.

He slammed his fist on the table, producing a loud “bang.”

“Crushing the Western Xia completely would also benefit His Majesty.”

He continued, a spark flashing in his eyes.

His voice rang loud and his tone was passionate.

“With such achievements, it would add another layer of security to His Majesty’s throne.”

He echoed Jiang Mingyu, declaring his support for confronting the Western Xia.

He nodded vigorously, slapping his thigh in approval.

As he was speaking with growing enthusiasm, a yamen runner suddenly burst in: “My lord, Lord Tang requests an audience.”

Wang Zhe froze at the sound, his expression shifting slightly; his words cut off mid-sentence.

He and Jiang Mingyu exchanged a glance, both seeing confusion in the other’s eyes.

Both raised their eyebrows, staring at each other in silence.