Chapter 1000: Will You Come With Us?

Pan Yun watched them disappear into the distance; when she turned back, the Embroidered Uniform Guard assigned to follow Xue Shao had arrived.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard’s primary area of operation remained Beijing, and their main targets were officials in the capital; they only left the city on specific missions.

Not every censor had an Embroidered Uniform Guard trailing them.

At least, when Pan Hong served as censor, he never had one—whether in Beijing or inspecting the northern frontier, no Embroidered Uniform Guard accompanied him.

Xue Shao was an exception, not because of himself, but because of the special nature of the region he inspected.

Jiangnan.

A region that had been treated differently since the founding by Emperor Taizu.

Jiangnan was wealthy, and its people were cunning, so Emperor Taizu imposed heavy taxes to break its power and ease the burden on the state treasury.

It worked at first, but Jiangnan’s scholar-gentry and merchants were extremely clever; within a few years, only Jiangnan’s farmers bore the heavy taxes.

Worse, they even dared to pluck Emperor Taizu’s beard—while the founding emperor still lived, they orchestrated a massive examination fraud in Zhejiang, Jiangxi, and Fujian.

Even though that attempt ended in failure, their efforts never stopped.

Land consolidation in Jiangnan and parts of Fujian had always been the most severe; no matter how upright an official arrived there, he left stained with ink—black and slippery, drenched in oil.

Those who refused to compromise rarely lasted three months; they either died or were dismissed, imprisoned, or driven out for various reasons.

Not to mention the Jiangnan Censor.

Before Xue Shao, this post had always been held by Wang Zhen’s men.

Each year, a trip to Jiangnan brought Wang Zhen vast amounts of gold, silver, and jewels, and so both sides coexisted peacefully for another year.

Thus, when Wang Zhen initially pushed Xue Shao into the role of Jiangnan Censor, he was sending him to his death.

But no one expected Xue Shao’s extraordinary luck.

He evaded repeated assassination attempts, and through his position as Censor, he accomplished much—removing numerous corrupt officials, even uncovering corruption among local scholar-gentry.

Among them were the hidden agents Wang Zhen had painstakingly planted, some even serving the former emperor.

That was why the former emperor assigned Embroidered Uniform Guards to watch Xue Shao—not to protect his safety, but to remind him to be prudent: some people must not be touched;

and to gather intelligence on Jiangnan.

So when the new emperor ascended the throne and Xue Shao was once again appointed Jiangnan Censor, this time with his jurisdiction expanded to Fujian and Guangdong, the new emperor reinforced the guard with additional Embroidered Uniform Guards.

This time, the Embroidered Uniform Guards served a different purpose.

The emperor knew Xue Shao was talented and would one day become a pillar of the state; he sent the Embroidered Uniform Guards to him both to protect him and to collect intelligence on Jiangnan.

As Jiangnan Censor, Xue Shao had long intended to reform Jiangnan—to alleviate the crushing tax burden on farmers and restructure the regional bureaucracy, turning Jiangnan into the true treasure house of the Great Ming.

After learning of this ambition, the emperor valued him even more.

Thus, the Embroidered Uniform Guards accompanying Xue Shao now had An Chen as their captain, with a full small unit at his disposal.

An Chen had previously been ordered to escort the Prefect of Jiujiang Prefecture to Beijing; he had only just arrived in Chaozhou this morning.

Because he was on the road and communication was poor, he only learned upon arrival that the State Preceptor was with Xue Shao.

Before he could even breathe a sigh of relief, he heard Xue Shao had become involved in military reorganization.

Excellent—this time he wasn’t targeting some prefect, but a Battalion Commander, even the Regional Military Commissioner.

This involved military authority.

But An Chen felt no difficulty; instead, he grew exhilarated. Military authority—who among the Embroidered Uniform Guards hadn’t dreamed of wielding it?

The vast majority of Embroidered Uniform Guards came from military veterans or sons of noble families.

Regardless of ability, with their status, who hadn’t dreamed of commanding troops?

So he hurried as fast as he could, arriving just before Xue Shao and Pan Yun departed for their next destination; he blocked their path, staring intently at them: “Are you two heading to Guangzhou Prefecture?”

Xue Shao frowned; he had always gotten along well with the Embroidered Uniform Guards—he investigated his cases, occasionally asked them for help, and was always generous, sharing half the credit for every case he solved, so they never interfered with his investigations.

Always, Xue Shao operated in the open, the Embroidered Uniform Guards in the shadows, and the team had always followed Xue Shao’s lead.

This was the first time An Chen had intervened midway in his investigation.

Xue Shao was displeased: “Yes. Is there a problem?”

“No problem, but I’d like to join you.” An Chen’s gaze swept over the ornament hanging from Pan Yun’s waist.

There hung a tripod the size of a fist—he knew it was a treasure capable of traveling a thousand li in a single day.

Xue Shao said: “We’ve always operated separately. You can go on your own.”

“I must protect you, Master Xue.”

Xue Shao pointed to Pan Yun: “With the State Preceptor here, I am perfectly safe.”

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After a moment’s silence, An Chen said: “Master Xue, you’re heading to Guangzhou Prefecture to target the Guangdong Regional Military Commissioner, aren’t you?”

Xue Shao’s gaze lightly settled on him.

An Chen said: “Master, military men differ from civil officials. Push them too far, and they’ll do anything. As the saying goes, scholars rebel and fail after three years, but if a general rebels, it takes only a thought. We all come from the military; our understanding of troops and soldiers surpasses yours and the State Preceptor’s. If trouble erupts in Guangzhou, we can step in.”

The other Embroidered Uniform Guards immediately stepped forward two paces, watching the two with hopeful eyes.

Xue Shao fell silent in thought; Pan Yun had already softened.

She was unyielding with strangers, but weak to kindness from those she knew.

She knew these Embroidered Uniform Guards well; their puppy-like gazes were impossible to resist.

Besides, they were Embroidered Uniform Guards.

The Great Ming’s Embroidered Uniform Guards had one primary requirement: they had to be good-looking, with fine physiques and appearances.

Of the five present, only An Chen looked rough—he was that way due to age and a scar across his face; before the scar, he had been quite presentable.

Pan Yun cleared her throat, her eyes shifting: “So many people—it’s a bit crowded.”

The Embroidered Uniform Guards exchanged glances, preparing to act, when their leader spoke calmly: “We don’t mind crowding, and we won’t bump into the State Preceptor or Master Xue.”

Instantly, the Embroidered Uniform Guards turned from foes to allies, becoming brothers-in-arms once more, all gazing at Pan Yun with shining eyes.

Pan Yun hesitated.

An Chen said: “This is known only to heaven and earth—we swear not to tell a soul. Neither the Dao Record Office nor the Celestial Master’s Mansion will learn that the State Preceptor carries mortals through the skies.”

“It’s a deal!” Pan Yun agreed at once.

Half a quarter-hour later, the Three Treasures Tripod was packed with people: three Embroidered Uniform Guards and Xi Jin squatted at the bottom, staring wide-eyed at each other, while An Chen and another stood together, eyes wide, gazing down at the receding earth and shrinking cities.

Pan Yun glanced at them, impressed by their courage—daring to look downward without fear of dizziness.

The three squatting Embroidered Uniform Guards kept tugging at the legs of the two standing men; wasn’t it time to switch places and let them stand and look?

The two standing men held the tripod’s rim with one hand and gripped their trousers tightly with the other, motionless, gazing downward at the magnificent landscape of the Great Ming.