Chapter 3: Unexpected Developments

The next moment, the onlookers were shoved aside, and seven or eight military officers entered, clad in black robes, wearing thin-soled speed boots, and carrying swords slung across their waists.

“Young Master, these are from the Military Patrol Office,” Bai Zhan frowned.

Zhao Ti nodded. “Kaifeng Prefecture has yacha and juncha; the yacha handle only internal affairs, while patrols and arrests outside are the juncha’s duty—they’re part of the Imperial Guard, under the command of the Left and Right Military Patrol Offices.”

“Huh!” The lead officer, a fat-faced man with pale, greasy skin, glanced at the sprawled ruffians and immediately spotted Gao Qiu; his lips twitched.

“Who did this? Has the criminal fled?” He drew his sword, causing the bystanders to scramble backward.

“Officer, it… it was those killers!” A yellow-faced man with shifty eyes and half-opened shirt revealing tattoos shouted loudly.

“Young Master, these are likely the ruffians’ gang. Earlier, they kept their distance and went to summon the military officers when things turned bad,” Zhou Dong mused.

“Zhou Master is right,” Zhao Ti smiled. “The ones who slipped away dare return.”

“How bold you are! In broad daylight, assaulting people in the marketplace—you’ve nearly killed them!” The fat officer brandished his sword. “Kneel and bind yourselves at once! Come with me to Kaifeng Prefecture to confess and face trial!”

Su Da growled from the front: “You military officer have no reason! You don’t even ask why before dragging people off?”

“Reason? What reason!” The fat officer glared at the groaning Gao Qiu on the ground. “Injuring someone is reason enough; maiming them is a grave crime!”

“These ruffians played football in the street, beat merchants, and insulted my Young Master—they deserved to be beaten. I didn’t kill them, that’s mercy enough!” Su Da snorted.

“You audacious scoundrel, still talking back!” The fat officer was furious. In Dongjing, public order was usually good; aside from gang clashes over territory, street brawls like this were rare.

Gang clashes never got reported unless someone died, and even then, they were hidden. Kaifeng Prefecture turned a blind eye. But street brawls like this? They had to be arrested.

“So what if we talk back?” Su Da shrugged indifferently. “These ruffians started it—they deserved it. You want to take us back? Dream on!”

“Where do you come from? Are you bandits from outside, sneaking into Dongjing to plot treason?” The fat officer, enraged, shouted: “Arrest them all! Anyone who resists gets swords and spears!”

No sooner had he spoken than the other officers drew their steel blades and moved forward.

Su Da glared: “You dare!”

The fat officer hated him intensely. Though he hesitated seeing the maimed ruffians, his official status and armed presence gave him confidence—he gritted his teeth, ready to cut down this brute first.

But then Yu Er stepped forward with a chuckle, suddenly pulling out an object and holding it up: “Dare you lay hands on us?”

The object was a palm-sized bronze plaque, engraved with patterns, showing hidden clouds and dragons. One side bore the inscription “Yuan San Shi Ba Hao”; the other, three seal-script characters: “Huangcheng Ling.”

“You… you…” The fat officer froze mid-step, his face turning ashen. Every official in the system knew this token—it was the exclusive emblem of the Huangcheng Si, the Imperial Palace’s special military bureau.

The Huangcheng Si was the Emperor’s personal guard, responsible for protecting the Emperor and imperial family, overseeing military officers and civil officials, and handling secret missions.

Like the later Jinyiwei and Niankanchu, though less brutal, it operated independently of all other government bureaus, uncontrolled and wielding immense authority.

Sweat dripped from the fat officer’s brow; he cursed inwardly. He never imagined these men were Huangcheng Si agents—not only could he not touch them, even his superiors, the Left and Right Military Patrol Commissioners, dared not.

“So? Still want to take us back to Kaifeng Prefecture?” Yu Er’s smile vanished, his voice cold.

Su Da now pulled out another token: “Look closely, you bird of an officer. See who we are. Even if we broke the law, Kaifeng Prefecture has no authority to arrest us!”

His token differed slightly from Yu Er’s: Yu Er’s read “Yuan San Shi Ba Hao”; his read “Di Shi Jiu Hao.”

Huangcheng Si agents were numbered by the sequence Tian, Di, Yuan, Huang; each had a fixed number for internal records and mission assignments—no one used real names.

When Zhao Ti left the palace to establish his household, he took not only his original eunuchs and maids, but also seven men from the Huangcheng Si.

These seven had followed him since childhood, serving as his personal bodyguards whenever he ventured outside the palace into markets and alleys.

Bai Zhan was one of them, numbered “Di Shi San.”

“L-Lords of the Bureau…” The fat officer forced a sickly smile. “This is a case of mistaking kin for strangers—we didn’t know you were on official business. How would I dare arrest you? I had no idea you were on duty…”

Yu Er stroked his sparse yellow beard: “We’re not on official business. We merely acted against injustice. These ruffians played football in the street, beat merchants, defied the law, and terrorized the neighborhood—we had to teach them a lesson. Report the aftermath to the Military Patrol Office.”

The fat officer’s heart sank. He knew Gao Qiu’s background. If these were ordinary ruffians, even if killed by Huangcheng Si agents, as long as there was clear evidence of crime, the authorities would clean it up. But Gao Qiu was a protégé of the Little Su Minister, now a personal attendant to Prince Duan—neither the Military Patrol Office nor Kaifeng Prefecture could handle this.

“This…,” the fat officer gritted his teeth. “Lords of the Bureau…”

“Speak up, spit it out!” Su Da snapped.

“Lords of the Bureau, that… that Gao Qiu…” The fat officer didn’t want to take the blame—he couldn’t bear it—and wanted to reveal Gao Qiu’s identity.

But before he could speak, hoofbeats rang from afar; the onlookers gasped and turned.

The Song Dynasty forbade horseback riding in the marketplace unless under military emergency or special circumstances. Yet peace reigned; military threats were rare. Everyone was puzzled.

Several riders galloped toward them. At their head rode a eunuch with a red face, dressed in palace attire, holding a whip and scanning ahead.

“Is the Gao Qiu who plays football here?” The eunuch pulled his reins tight, his voice shrill.

The crowd fell silent. Gao Qiu lay on the ground, but no one dared answer.

Seeing no response, the eunuch frowned and leaned forward: “What’s going on? Who are these people on the ground?… Oh! Isn’t that Gao Qiu? Who did this to him?!”

He leapt off his horse at once; his guards followed, pushing through the crowd toward him.