Chapter Twelve: Layers of Suspicion

The woodshed was in utter disarray. The chef had died a gruesome death—his abdomen split open, entrails spilled across the floor. He hadn’t died instantly; judging by the overturned items scattered about, he had struggled, crawling to the door before finally succumbing.

The scene was so horrific that Qingqing couldn’t help but scream, while Ning Xue, older and trying to remain composed, still fought the urge to retch.

Two young servants, A’dong and Iron Pillar, clung to each other in terror. They were of low rank and often berated by the chef for their clumsiness; in private, they had even cursed him, wishing him dead. But now, with his corpse before them, they were petrified, and memories of his better moments surfaced instead.

After all, he was a man of the world, and Lei Wanchun was the first to regain his composure. He commanded, “The killer can’t have gone far. Judging by the way this man was gutted, the murderer is no ordinary foe—and surely his true aim was not merely a chef’s life. Everyone, return to the main hall at once. Stay together until dawn, then report this to the authorities.”

Everyone regrouped in the hall, placing Zhang Jiuling and the two young ladies at the center. After all, the old Prime Minister had survived an ambush just days ago—the true target might well have been him.

Yu Chaoran fetched his bow and arrows from his room, keeping a vigilant watch on the doors and windows. If that daring assassin dared show himself, he would surely be shot through on the spot.

The atmosphere in the hall was suffocating—every rustle or whisper set nerves on edge.

Li Bai’s response was strange; he sat drinking cup after cup, while Yu Chaoran seemed to understand why. The others didn’t dare question it.

“Yu Lang is missing,” Zhang Xun said in a low voice.

“No need to worry. I’m right here,” Yu Lang replied, strolling in with his hands behind his back.

Yu Chaoran glared. “At a time like this, what are you running about for? Just stay with the rest of us!”

“Very well,” Yu Lang agreed with a smile. As he passed Iron Pillar, he suddenly swung his staff, aiming for the young man’s back.

Iron Pillar raised an arm to block, then bent low and kicked Yu Lang away. Yu Chaoran caught Yu Lang steadily, absorbing the remaining force of the blow.

Almost simultaneously, Lei Wanchun moved to seize Iron Pillar.

Zhang Xun merely smiled, as if he had known Yu Lang’s plan all along.

After Lei Wanchun had securely bound Iron Pillar, he asked, “What’s going on?”

Yu Lang replied with a smile, “You’re all overly anxious. The chef wasn’t killed by the assassin, but by this very servant who brought us the news—Iron Pillar.”

“You all left in a hurry, but I took a closer look. Besides being gutted, the chef was also missing a fingertip—he must have been tortured for information. An assassin targeting Prime Minister Zhang would hardly bother interrogating a chef, nor would there be any valuable secrets he could reveal. Such a brutal method—disembowelment—suggests a vendetta. So the killer had to be one of the two servants. A’dong was here serving us food the entire time, so the only one left is Iron Pillar. That’s why I tested him, and as expected, he fought back with the skill and alertness of a practiced fighter.”

Yu Lang spoke unhurriedly. In his previous life, he had been a fan of detective novels; given the chance, how could he not show off his skills?

“Young master, that’s just your imagination. Do you have any proof?” Iron Pillar refused to confess.

Yu Lang continued, “The chef was out buying ingredients, so he must have been carrying coins. I searched his clothes and found nothing. They’re probably still on you—unless you were clever enough to stash the purse elsewhere. But there’s another piece of evidence: there’s a scratch on your left cheek, and under the chef’s severed fingernail, there’s still some flesh…”

“Enough! I confess,” Iron Pillar spat bitterly. “That fat bastard—always docking our pay, gorging himself while my wages can’t even feed my family. I begged him, humbled myself, but not only did he refuse, he humiliated me. Once, I was a man of the road, proud and unyielding. I couldn’t stomach this injustice any longer.”

Tears streaming down his face, Iron Pillar turned to Yu Chaoran. “Old master, you’re a good man. When you were in charge, he didn’t dare dock our pay. Ever since the Li family took over, our lives have only gotten harder. I alone am responsible for what I’ve done. I only hope that, after my death, you’ll watch over my family.”

With that, he bit through his tongue, ending his own life—a swift and resolute man.

Yu Chaoran was stricken with grief. Iron Pillar had always been a simple, honest man, toiling for his family. In years past, when Yu Chaoran had given him a little extra at New Year, the man had wept with gratitude.

The company was left shaken. Even Yu Lang fell silent. The world was not as black and white as he had imagined. He had deduced Iron Pillar’s motive—greed—but not the suffering he had endured, nor the chef’s arrogance and abuse of power. Had he known, perhaps Iron Pillar would never have been forced to such an extreme.

Perhaps this was but a microcosm of the great Tang Dynasty—a mighty empire, but beneath its strength, countless parasites slowly gnawed away at its backbone. How much farther could this hollow shell go, surrounded by wolves and tigers?

Suddenly, applause rang out from outside. “Brilliant, simply brilliant.”

Li Yu entered the hall, hands clasped behind his back, a broad grin on his face. “What a show, Yu Lang, what a show. You make it harder and harder for me to want to kill you.”

Lei Wanchun positioned himself before the others, blocking Li Yu’s path. Though Lei Wanchun was a head taller and broad of shoulder, he felt the sinister, snake-like menace of this frail young man, and realized he was at a disadvantage.

Li Yu raised his hand with easy grace. “Allow me to finish the tale. My original plan was to have the chef add some bone-softening powder to the pot, but the chef’s intentions were discovered by this servant—oh, Iron Pillar. Iron Pillar cut off the chef’s finger, demanding to know who had ordered him to drug the food. The chef dared not speak; after all, his family’s lives were in my hands. Iron Pillar, in a moment of rage and longstanding hatred, gutted him and took his money.”

As he spoke, Li Yu burst out laughing, as if it were all an amusing tale. “I could have stopped all of this, but whether or not the bone-softening powder was added didn’t matter much to me. Watching the story unfold was far more interesting—so I waited until now to appear. Truly, it was worth it. Iron Pillar was a man of his word—he confessed to the crime, but didn’t mention his services to the Yu family. Perhaps he feared weighing on your conscience, young master. Tell me, does your conscience trouble you now?”

Yu Lang trembled uncontrollably, overwhelmed by his own powerlessness. He couldn’t defeat Li Yu. On a rash impulse, he had misjudged Iron Pillar. Guilt and sorrow choked him—his lips parted, but not a word would come.

Zhang Xun stepped forward. “Yu Lang, you have nothing to reproach yourself for. The killer’s fate is beyond dispute, and he made his own choice. You didn’t drive him to death. What you must do is punish the mastermind and care for Iron Pillar’s family. Don’t let a few words shake your resolve.”

Others offered comfort as well, and Yu Lang’s heart eased a little.

Lei Wanchun glared coldly at Li Yu. “You seem quite confident that you can take on everyone here alone?”

Li Yu shook his head with a smile. “Of course not. I’m not here to kill—I’m here to die.”

The hall erupted in shock.

His gaze was both triumphant and mad. “The son of Prime Minister Li Linfu—Vice Minister of the Imperial Sacrificial Court—dead here in your midst. You—yes, you, and you—all of you in this hall, not one of you can escape blame.”

“You’ll all die!” His voice was as deep and menacing as a wolf’s growl.

The Sword Sage had declared: whoever dared kill Yu Lang, he would hunt them to the ends of the earth, exterminating their clans. But if it was the law of Tang that demanded blood, could even the Sword Sage slaughter all under heaven for one life? Li Yu was intoxicated by his own cunning. That was his way—often not caring whether his schemes succeeded, so long as he could savor the game.