Chapter 103: The Grace of Yang Wu

Sun Sheng saw the Duke of Dongping smiling without answering, and felt a slight displeasure in his heart. He thought to himself, "I am here burning with anxiety like an ant on a hot pan, yet you are completely unconcerned—is it a case of the emperor being calm while the eunuch is frantic?" Upon thinking of this phrase, Sun Sheng spat a silent "pah, pah" and muttered to himself that he was certainly no eunuch.

Li Hongji took a leisurely sip of tea and smiled. "Prime Minister Sun, do not worry. This duke has already taken action to teach them a lesson."

Sun Sheng’s eyes lit up. "Duke of Dongping, what is your brilliant strategy?"

Li Hongji hummed twice with an air of self-satisfaction and smiled. "Prime Minister Sun need not fret. This duke already has preliminary intelligence. Once this matter is verified, we will be able to overthrow the Prince of Qi in one fell swoop and ensure he never rises again!"

Sun Sheng grew somewhat excited. It seemed the Duke of Dongping had been prepared all along, causing him to worry for nothing. At this thought, Sun Sheng reaffirmed that choosing the Duke of Dongping, Li Hongji, was the right decision. Just then, a burly man hurried in. Seeing that Sun Sheng was also present, he furrowed his brows slightly, yet still approached the Duke of Dongping and whispered a few words into his ear.

The expression on Li Hongji’s face shifted, and his brows knitted together. He remained silent for a long time after hearing the report. Finally, he waved his hand to signal the man to withdraw.

Sun Sheng stroked his beard, sensing that the Duke of Dongping appeared to have run into trouble. Sure enough, after a moment of silence, Li Hongji spoke. "The situation has suddenly become a bit tricky. It seems the plan must change."

"What does old man require me to do?" Sun Sheng’s expression also turned grave; he had never seen Li Hongji wear such a look.

"I will naturally handle this matter myself," Li Hongji shook his head, then immediately added, "As for Yang Lian, his negotiations with the Han state must under no circumstances be allowed to proceed smoothly. Can Prime Minister Sun submit a memorial to impeach Yang Lian for incompetence?"

Sun Sheng stood up, bowed to Li Hongji, and said, "This old man understands. I shall attend to it right away."

Sun Sheng’s efficiency was indeed remarkable. An hour later, a memorial with ink not yet dry was delivered into the hands of Li Jing. Sun Sheng was a master of calligraphy, and his handwriting was exceptionally fine. In fact, throughout the court of Great Tang, figures like Chen Jue, Feng Yanji, Han Xizai, Chang Mengxi, and even Zha Wenhui and Sun Sheng, were genuine scholars, leaving behind many poems for posterity.

However, no matter how fine one's handwriting or how brilliant one's essays, they had little to do with governing a country, let alone leading troops in battle.

Li Jing narrowed his eyes, carefully examining Sun Sheng’s memorial, and then handed it to the Prince of Qi, Li Jingsui, who stood nearby. "Prince of Qi, this is Prime Minister Sun's memorial. Have a look."

Li Jingsui nodded, took the memorial, and read through it. "What Prime Minister Sun says is not without reason. However, Liu Xin has been much more well-behaved these past few days."

"Do you mean we should continue to use Yang Lian?" Li Jing asked.

Li Jingsui cupped his hands. In this matter, he had only ever played a role of adding fuel to the fire. He remembered very clearly what Yang Lian had said to him: the Emperor detested factional struggles, so the two of them maintained a distant yet polite relationship, appearing not overly close. "Your Majesty, if you doubt a man, do not employ him; if you employ him, do not doubt him. Furthermore, negotiations require patience. Your Imperial Brother might as well give him a few more days."

Li Jing nodded. "Neither the people of Han nor the Khitans are easy to deal with, and this negotiation is truly a difficult task for him. If Yang Lian successfully resolves this matter, I shall richly reward him."

Upon returning to the inn, Yang Lian immediately summoned Lin Renzhao and Chen Tie to brief them on the day's events.

Lin Renzhao found it exceedingly strange. Having been in Jinling for two or three years, he had never even heard of this organization. It now appeared that this organization harbored suspicions toward Yang Lian, and he pondered how to track down the mastermind behind the scenes. Chen Tie was the least able to contain himself and immediately clamored to report the matter to the authorities.

Yang Lian was rendered speechless. If reporting to the authorities could solve anything, he would have done so long ago; why wait until now?

The three conferred for a brief moment and agreed that they must all exercise caution in the near future. As for the Tiger Claw organization, they would simply have to investigate it gradually. After the two men departed, Yang Lian had his meal. When the moon climbed to the treetops, he donned night-cloaking garments and slipped stealthily toward the southern part of the city. Yang Lian recalled a specific place—the very house Mi Shiwei had taken him to when he first arrived in Jinling. Back then, he had even encountered someone else inside that house, though he had remained hidden in the shadows and could not make out the person's appearance at all.

In the days that followed, Yang Lian had returned a few times with no success, but now that place came to mind once more. Having lived in Jinling for a year, Yang Lian had long since committed the patrol routes and exact schedules of the night watchmen to memory. Under the cover of darkness, he easily reached the South City.

This dilapidated neighborhood remained filled with garbage, stagnant sewage flowing at random, and an overpowering stench that nearly induced vomiting. Forcing back his nausea, Yang Lian drew closer to the house. As he approached, the dwelling remained dead and desolate, its entrance choked with trash. The door that had fallen down long ago still lay flat across the ground; nothing much had changed.

"A full year has passed," Yang Lian sighed softly, stepping inside on tiptoe. Moonlight, like a delicate veil, draped over the interior. Yang Lian narrowed his eyes, pacing slowly and examining everything in the room. When he stepped into a side chamber, his breathing suddenly grew shallow. From the outside, the house naturally showed little change, and the layers of garbage and dust on the floor might easily trick one into thinking no one had set foot here at all.

Yet when Yang Lian clearly saw what lay within the room, he could not help but draw in a sharp breath of cold air. A few paces ahead, a spirit tablet had actually been erected! Furthermore, Yang Lian was certain he had never seen this tablet before. Placed beneath the tablet was an incense burner, already filled with ash, with the remnants of several incense sticks still resting inside.

Someone had been here paying homage! Yang Lian heightened his vigilance even further, stepping closer to the tablet. Utilizing the moonlight filtering through from outside, he started once more. The characters inscribed upon the tablet astonished him—it was none other than the spirit tablet of the Martial Emperor of Wu! What kind of person would erect a spirit tablet for the founding ancestor of Wu here? Did this person not fear being discovered?

While Yang Lian was still in a state of shock, his ears suddenly twitched. Hearing a rush of wind, he hurriedly sidestepped, but it was already too late. From the shadows, a remarkably slender man launched an attack.

The lean man was likewise dressed in night-attire, his face veiled with black cloth, lending him an aura of deep mystery. What surprised Yang Lian somewhat was that despite the black-clad man's frail appearance, his movements were extraordinarily swift, agile as a civet cat. Moreover, as they exchanged blows and their arms and palms inevitably collided, Yang Lian could feel immense strength emanating from the man's limbs.

"When did Jinling produce such an extraordinary martial artist?" Yang Lian thought to himself, not daring to lower his guard in the slightest. The two of them exerted themselves within the cramped room, trading over twenty moves amid a flurry of rising dust.

"Cough, cough!" The man in black suddenly coughed twice. Yang Lian also felt a tickle in his nose, but he managed to suppress it.

The man in black, however, continued coughing incessantly. The dust affected him greatly, causing his movements to slow down. In a duel between experts, victory or defeat hangs on a split second. The man's coughing provided Yang Lian with an opening, and he drove his fist—roughly the size of a hammer—straight toward the man's chest. The man in black failed to fully block it, his ongoing coughs disrupting his rhythm, and he took a solid blow to the chest. Feeling a sharp pain, he stumbled backward two steps. Suddenly, he felt a coolness on his face as his black veil was ripped away by Yang Lian.

The man in black hastily raised his sleeve to shield his face, but it was already a step too late. In the dim moonlight, his features were exposed entirely. Yang Lian could not help but be stunned. Seizing this opportunity, the man in black likewise reached out and tore the black cloth from Yang Lian's face.

Upon seeing Yang Lian, the man was even more astonished, letting out an involuntary gasp, "Why is it you?"

"That phrase would rather seem to belong to me," Yang Lian said, his wariness undiminished as he leaned his body slightly forward, poised to strike.

The man in black blinked his eyes rapidly, then suddenly smiled. "I understand. You truly are him."

Yang Lian stared coldly at the man in black. "Zhou Ye, what on earth is your purpose in coming here in the dead of night?"

The man in black was indeed Zhou Ye. He gazed deeply at Yang Lian for a moment, then abruptly dropped to his knees before him. Taken aback, Yang Lian stepped back twice, still eyeing him with suspicion.

Zhou Ye bowed deeply to Yang Lian and said, "Zhou Ye pays respects to Your Royal Highness the Crown Prince."

Yang Lian narrowed his eyes and closely scrutinized Zhou Ye. "Zhou Ye, you have mistaken the person."

Kowtowing, Zhou Ye replied, "Impossible, how could I ever be mistaken? Your Royal Highness the Crown Prince, though the former state has perished, there are still countless patriots yearning for our lost country. Zhou Ye has never dared to forget. This house was once the gathering place for restoration loyalists, though it has long since fallen into ruin."

With these words, Zhou Ye rose to his feet, groped around on the floor for a moment, and fished out a stick of incense. He ignited it and inserted it into the incense burner. The room gradually grew brighter. Yang Lian could see that tears still lingered on Zhou Ye’s face, his features slightly distorted by a mix of agitation and excitement.

Yang Lian watched Zhou Ye calmly, still unable to fully gauge the man's true intentions. After all, the state of Wu had perished several years ago, and furthermore, Zhou Hongzu had been the very man who captured and executed Yang Meng, the Prince of Lanchuan, back then. How could Yang Lian not harbor suspicions?

"The former state has perished, yet the magnificent and heroic bearing of the Martial Emperor remains fresh in our memories. Thanks to the Martial Emperor's blessing, the people of Jiangnan have been able to live in peace and contentment. It is a pity that the rivers and mountains of Wu ultimately fell into the hands of that treacherous scoundrel Li Bian! That three-faced hypocrite, though his mouth is full of benevolence and righteousness, acts no better than a beast. I long to strip off his skin and drink his blood! I hate him, oh, how I hate him!" As he spoke, Zhou Ye slammed his forehead against the floor with loud thuds, the sound echoing painfully in Yang Lian's ears.

Zhou Ye continued to weep, his voice resembling the mournful crying of an oriole, filled with deep sorrow.

The flame of the incense stick flickered, casting shifting, obscure shadows across Zhou Ye's face.

Yang Lian let out a lingering sigh. Zhou Ye's display made him appear credible.

Suddenly turning his head, Zhou Ye fixed his gaze once more upon Yang Lian, his eyes regaining their intensity. He threw himself back down before Yang Lian and pleaded, "Your Royal Highness the Crown Prince! Your Royal Highness, that you did not die is our sole hope! Will Your Royal Highness lead us to restore the Great Wu?"

A flicker crossed Yang Lian's eyes. After a moment of thought, he stepped forward to help Zhou Ye up. "Zhou Ye, the state of Wu has already fallen. Why must you harbor such a relentless obsession?"

Zhou Ye slowly stood, glanced at Yang Lian, then turned his gaze back toward the spirit tablet of the Martial Emperor. He shook his head, his tone resolute and unwavering. "Absolutely not! I, Zhou Ye, am a subject of Wu in life and shall be a ghost of Wu in death. Through this life and this existence, that is something that can never, ever change!"

With that, Zhou Ye looked back at Yang Lian and asked, "Are you truly not His Royal Highness the Crown Prince?"