“Your subject cannot make an identification.”
“Never mind — the weather has been growing hot faster than expected. When the box first arrived, I could still barely make out King Kang’s face.”
So this was the King Kang who had been assassinated. The killer was truly audacious — they had even sent his head to the capital, an open act of provocation.
Xiao Zhun’s lips pressed thin: “May I ask Your Majesty — was this done by the Bai Family?”
The man behind the gauze screen set down the censer and walked a few steps in Xiao Zhun’s direction. His shadow wavered on the screen as though he were looking down at him with appraisal. “Whether it was or was not, it will not change my decision to level Bijiang.” He paused, then continued: “I wish to know — in Marquis Qinghuai’s opinion, what kind of blade killed King Kang?”
The remains in the box were severed cleanly at the neck. The cross-section faintly showed a spine cut straight through — apart from the seeping marrow and blood, the cut surface was remarkably smooth.
Xiao Zhun did not rush to give an answer: “With only the head before me, I cannot determine whether there are other lethal wounds on the body. However—” his gaze settled on the sharp, clean edge of the flesh and bone, “—the cut across King Kang’s neck is most unusual. It would not have been made by an ordinary sword or blade.”
“Oh?” From behind the gauze screen came a drawn-out, meaningful sound. “Not a sword or blade — then what manner of weapon?”
Xiao Zhun hesitated for a noticeable moment before responding evenly: “Your subject is no coroner. I cannot determine the answer at a glance.”
“Hmm, I only asked on a whim. Though I have heard it said that among the jianghu, there is a weapon made of fine wire — when used with sufficient force, it can cut through gold and stone. Has Marquis Qinghuai perhaps heard of this?”
The composure on Xiao Zhun’s face began to crumble — imperceptibly, yet unmistakably — though his body remained perfectly still. Unless one stood face to face with him, no one could see his emotions in this moment.
In his mind, an overwhelming flock of ravens seemed to sweep past, mixed with the chaotic pounding of hooves, the labored breath of a young man, the heavy scent of rain before a downpour, and the relentless, heart-rending arc of a silver net closing in from all sides—
“Marquis Qinghuai?”
Xiao Zhun lowered his head slightly further, his voice as steady as ever: “Your subject… has never heard of it.”
“Oh? Then it must be nothing but rumor.” The figure behind the gauze screen seemed to lose interest in an instant, turning back toward the desk, his voice cooling: “I have a great many documents to review. Does Marquis Qinghuai have anything further?”
In truth, Xiao Zhun had not yet had a chance to state his purpose since entering the hall — he did not know whether the Emperor had done this deliberately. He collected himself and spoke: “Your subject fears that his foster daughter Xiao Nanhui is too young to bear the responsibility of Right General, and worries she may cause trouble for Your Majesty.”
“Does Marquis Qinghuai know that the three bandit chiefs of Mount Zhong were slain by Xiao Nanhui?”
Xiao Zhun was visibly startled for a moment, then replied: “Your subject did not know. She never mentioned it — I suppose she encountered them during her unauthorized excursion to Huozhou.”
A low, subdued laugh rang out. Xiao Zhun rarely heard this man laugh, and he always felt that laughter carried little genuine warmth.
“There is no need for Marquis Qinghuai to be modest. A mighty father raises no mediocre daughter — in my view, she is excellent indeed.”
There was something peculiar in these words. Before Xiao Zhun had time to discern the deeper meaning, the voice continued: “You came last month to this side hall to work on the Linglong Niche — have you made any progress?”
This was a signal that the topic of Xiao Nanhui was closed. Knowing that pressing further would be futile, Xiao Zhun could only answer the question at hand: “Your subject has now solved seven or eight layers. Given another hour or so, it should be solved.”
“Very good.”
The Emperor lightly tapped his desk. The black-robed chief attendant, who had dissolved away like smoke moments before, drifted back out from somewhere, holding something in his hands — the nine-fold Linglong Niche.
“This Linglong Niche was left behind by my mother. I only brought it out before to pass the time. If you can solve it, I will take it as bringing joy to my mother’s spirit, and grant you one request. Only — what you ask of me, have you thought it through?”
Xiao Zhun’s gaze fixed unwaveringly on the intricately crafted object, no larger than a fist. After a long pause, he finally bowed his head: “Your subject has considered it. I humbly ask His Majesty to grant that your subject be appointed commander of the campaign to recover Bijiang.”
The Emperor’s silhouette swayed behind the gauze screen, shifting and shimmering like a reflection in a lake stirred by wind.
“We… grant it.”
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