“Wusu Dashi actually died at Zezhou?”

Hearing the new resident of Liuyun Temple, Wang Jingrong, speak of the Battle of Changyuan Mountain, Yao Xishui was shocked and startled, finding it hard to believe that a hundred and forty to fifty thousand Mengwu elite had once again been slaughtered by Liang forces like chickens and dogs. The Southern Court Great King Wusu Dashi had also been wounded by artillery stones in the chaos and failed to survive the night?

“What have we been fighting for all these years?” Zhou Yuan grinned with a smile, yet it carried infinite melancholy and bitterness.

Wearing a specially made padded jacket, squatting with clasped hands in a corner of the temple courtyard basking in the sun, his disheveled beard and hair all white, he looked exactly like an old country farmer, completely devoid of the bearing he once had as Vice Minister of Works of Great Chu.

Lu Qingxia stood forlornly before the courtyard, seemingly unable to imagine that the heroic lord Wusu Dashi of a generation had died so quietly and without notice.

“Xiao Yiqing drank poison and died—he did not disappoint Wusu Dashi’s friendship with him!”

Yun Puzi had been writing several large characters inside the room. Hearing Wang Jingrong in the courtyard telling Zhou Diyu, Lu Qingxia, and Yao Xishui about the final fates of Xiao Yiqing and Wusu Dashi, he couldn’t help but sigh through the window.

Yun Puzi’s complexion was actually even better than Zhou Yuan’s. His white hair was tied in a Daoist topknot, and under his Daoist robe he wore a yellow fox fur for warmth—Wang Jinguan had been sent to Liuyun Temple for confinement yesterday, but last night Han Wenhuan had obtained a jar of newly brewed fine wine and pulled him over to taste it. Becoming pleasantly drunk, he had stayed at the Han mansion. Upon waking this morning, after drinking a restorative with Han Wenhuan, he had returned to Liuyun Temple to meet Wang Jingrong.

Yun Puzi still remembered what Wang Jingrong looked like over forty years ago when he first came to work at Prince Lu’s mansion. Although Wang Jingrong was currently detained at Liuyun Temple as a war criminal, the meeting of old acquaintances was always something worth celebrating.

He walked out of the room, beckoned a young Daoist attendant over, and instructed him to prepare some fine wine and spirits for noon.

“Old Daoist Yun, have you seen the fire-subduing crossbow?” Seeing Yun Puzi emerge from the inner room, Zhou Yuan shifted over and asked, “Is it made by grinding red lead into powder, loading it into an iron tube, and firing projectiles?”

In his early years with the Dragonfinch Army and at Taowu Military Prefecture, Zhou Yuan had been in charge of the Works Division. Later in Yueyang he managed the Provincial Works Department and eventually served as Vice Minister of Works of Great Chu. Although he had now become a prisoner, he was still quite interested in manufacturing techniques.

“Fire-subduing powder, fire-subduing crossbow—those are names to mislead outsiders. In the confidential manuals within Luoyang Academy, these two things are called gunpowder and muzzle-loading smoothbore cannon. Han Qian personally directed this project, and it was indeed evolved from red lead.”

Standing proudly in the courtyard, since smoothbore cannons had been deployed in actual combat, some matters would gradually be declassified. Yun Puzi picked out the general details to explain to Zhou Yuan and the others.

“When I first arrived in Luoyang from Jinling, I already saw the smoothbore cannon. However, at that time the powder charge could only fire a ten-pound iron ball five hundred paces—its power was somewhat stronger than the spring-arm scorpion crossbow, but ultimately there was still no urgent need to deploy it in actual combat. The fear was that you people and the Mengwu would steal and learn it. The mountains behind this temple were initially the testing ground. For secrecy, this temple was acquired by the government and the Daoists originally stationed here were expelled. In the end, it benefited this old Daoist—otherwise, there would be no place to accommodate you all today. Later, when the smoothbore cannon’s range improved and the noise grew louder, the testing ground was moved to a deep valley in Mount Song. I haven’t paid attention to this matter for over two years now. Can they really shoot three thousand paces now?”

When Yun Puzi said he hadn’t concerned himself with these matters for the past two years, Zhou Yuan didn’t suspect him of lying, nor did he think he had truly escaped worldly affairs or lacked qualifications to inquire about these secrets. Perhaps in Yun Puzi’s eyes, he had long determined that the realm would ultimately be unified under Han Qian’s hands—it was only a matter of sooner or later.

At this moment, the sound of horse hooves rang out beyond the temple courtyard.

Wang Jingrong was still like a startled bird, fearfully standing up to look outside, but his view was blocked by the tall courtyard wall. Zhou Yuan, Lu Qingxia, and Yao Xishui merely looked toward the temple gate with puzzled expressions, wondering who was intruding upon Liuyun Temple at this time.

Earlier, when Yun Puzi resided at Liuyun Temple, besides several ordained Daoist disciples, he also had two guards by his side. When Zhou Yuan, Lu Qingxia, Yao Xishui and others were imprisoned at Liuyun Temple, the Inspectorate’s Criminal Division had established a branch office here, with over ten clerks and soldiers permanently stationed.

Zhou Yuan, Lu Qingxia, and Yao Xishui could receive specifically authorized visitors at the temple, but their freedom of movement was still strictly limited and monitored—they were, after all, sentenced to life imprisonment.

Soon, they saw the central courtyard gate opened from outside. A cavalry unit halted in the front courtyard, clustered around a plain and simple carriage.

Seeing Chun Shisanniang lift her skirt and descend from the carriage walking over, Yun Puzi asked curiously:

“Since when have you had such a grand retinue?”

“Some days ago I petitioned the palace and obtained His Majesty’s permission to take Mother and Xishui to stay at the wine shop for two days during the Lantern Festival. I came at noon to fetch Mother and Xishui. On the road I encountered Captain Du and learned that His Majesty and the Second Consort had temporarily decided to come here for an excursion. I accompanied Captain Du and hurried ahead…”

“She is Chun Rong’er, the daughter of you and Chun Lianghui?”

This was Wang Jingrong’s first time meeting Chun Shisanniang. Hearing her call Lu Qingxia “Mother,” he asked Lu Qingxia once, then looked at Chun Shisanniang in surprise for a while, vaguely seeing traces of an old acquaintance’s features, and sighed.

“When Liang forces plundered Prince Lu’s mansion, Chun Lianghui cursed them once as violent and base, but Zhu Wen ordered him flayed and sliced in the death of a thousand cuts. He survived in agony for three days before dying—it was truly tragic…”

“The old affairs of the previous dynasty are already like passing clouds—why think of these things?” Yun Puzi said with displeasure.

“If you weren’t thinking of these old affairs of the previous dynasty, would you have brought Lady Lu to this temple?” Wang Jingrong countered.

“You, oh you—when you first came to work at Prince Lu’s mansion, you loved to stir up trouble. After all these years, even as a prisoner, you still haven’t changed this nature. Back then, this old Daoist admired Qingxia, but as I couldn’t marry and start a family, I specifically asked Prince Lu and the princess consort to help arrange her marriage with Chun Lianghui, who excelled in both character and poetry. Now that all these old affairs are laid open, what of it?” Yun Puzi didn’t quarrel with Wang Jingrong, directly laying out the old affairs himself to see what this prisoner could stir up with these past events.

Seeing Wang Jingrong had nothing to say, Yun Puzi looked at the Imperial Guard Battalion Commander Du Hongyin, who had come over to pay his respects, and asked: “How did His Majesty think to come to this remote mountain wilderness for an excursion?”

Having heard from Chun Shisanniang, Yun Puzi now knew this cavalry unit was the vanguard escort for Han Qian taking Wang Jun on an outing.

Liuyun Temple naturally couldn’t be considered remote mountain wilderness—crossing the Yi River from Luoyang and traveling southeast for over ten li would reach it. The back mountain was considered a branch of Mount Song. But as national lord, Han Qian was normally surrounded fore and aft even when walking around Shangyang Garden and rarely left Shangyang Garden, let alone the city.

Du Hongyin could ignore any questions from Chun Shisanniang and wouldn’t casually reveal the purpose of Han Qian and Wang Jun’s outing, but before Yun Puzi he respectfully replied:

“His Majesty originally intended to summon Wang Jingrong of Guanjiang Tower to Shangyang Garden for questioning. Noble Consort Shu happened to mention that the weather was fine today and rarely this warm. His Majesty then decided to come directly to Liuyun Temple to visit Daoist Master Yun. Military Prefect Li, Military Prefect Tian, Duke of Han and other lords are accompanying…”

Hearing Du Hongyin say that Han Qian had made such grand arrangements specifically to come interrogate him, Wang Jingrong—whose composure and bearing cultivated over these years had already been lost completely after his capture—now looked anxiously at Yun Puzi, forgetting that moments ago he had wanted to use old affairs to provoke Yun Puzi.

Yun Puzi paid no attention to Wang Jingrong, summoning the temple administrator and instructing him to work with Du Hongyin to handle reception arrangements.

Du Hongyin took over Liuyun Temple’s defenses and arranged security. After the time it takes to burn an incense stick, everyone saw a large cavalry force approaching the temple.

Han Qian, Wang Jun, and Zhao Ting’er rode side by side and dismounted before the temple’s main gate. They saw young County Princess Han Wenyuan impatiently struggling free of Han Qian’s embrace, wanting to jump down and run about.

Besides Li Zhigao, Tian Cheng, Han Daoming, Feng Yi, Qin Wen, Yin Peng, Wang Zhe, Wen Ruilin and other high officials, Cao Zhe and Sima De, who had arrived in Luoyang yesterday with the forces escorting Wang Jingrong, were also among the attending entourage.

“Daoist Master Yun truly grows younger with age! I heard from Uncle that Grandfather pulled you into the city last night and you drank to complete intoxication. I worried you hadn’t recovered from your hangover and that coming so early would disturb you.” Han Qian smiled as he entered the courtyard, exchanging pleasantries with Yun Puzi.

“Now I have no opportunity to get thoroughly drunk—the body truly doesn’t spare anyone. Besides, there are many people watching. The slightest attempt to indulge in drinking once, and who knows how many people crowd over to advise against it. It’s endlessly vexing!” Yun Puzi sighed.

“Ha ha, I won’t follow your words down that path, lest you use my words to silence those who advise you against drinking,” Han Qian laughed heartily and said, “This wine really should be consumed less…”

Seeing Wang Jingrong, Lu Qingxia, Zhou Yuan and others standing in the corner, Han Qian beckoned them forward and asked: “It seems you’ve already reminisced about old times—today when discussing northern desert affairs with Zhigao, I thought you should be able to offer some advice. Zhigao also said we should give you an opportunity to atone for your crimes through meritorious service, so I came to see if you have any good strategies to present…”

Hearing Han Qian say this, Lu Qingxia realized that Wang Jingrong being sent to Liuyun Temple immediately after being escorted back to Luoyang had been intentional, but she didn’t know what Han Qian’s true intent was…