“In truth, the Eastern Capital branch of the Pure Gate Sect has known for some time about Tatargan’s salt smuggling. We had a rough idea of those private stockhouses too — but the Pure Gate Sect and the Persians had never interfered with each other’s affairs, so naturally it wasn’t our place to expose him.” Elder Ding said. “However, the Young Sect Master said that since the investigation had come right under our noses, we might as well deal with Tatargan and his lot while we were at it. He also said that those people were like a persistent rash — an eyesore and an irritant — and the only way to find what we truly needed to find was to clear them all out first.”

Hua Yitang cut him off with a weary gesture. “Leave out the self-congratulatory filler and get to the point.”

Ding Kun: “Ahem — in short, the Young Sect Master felt this abandoned garden’s location was suspicious, so he instructed me to bring the Seven Stars along to take a look. We had barely set foot inside when the little beggar boy shot off Jin Ruo’s back like a loosed arrow, shouting something about ‘Sister Xue’ — and vanished in a blink. The Young Sect Master gave chase, and in the next moment, he too was gone. Now — you can imagine how frantic that made us! I called in all the Pure Gate disciples in Fujiao Ward — dozens of people, inside and out — and no matter how we searched, we couldn’t find them. Some of us even got lost in here and couldn’t find our way out. Lady Lin, Hua the Fourth — you are both widely experienced, so tell me — are we dealing with a ghost wall here?”

Hua Yitang’s fan snapped open. He swept it back and forth twice. “There is no such thing as a ghost wall. There is a formation array in this garden.”

Ding Kun was taken aback, glancing around in alarm. “What kind of formation? Where is it?”

Tianshu frowned. “Could it be these strange stones that Hua the Fourth is referring to?”

“They are called lake rocks — not strange stones.” Hua Yitang rapped a knuckle against the half-man-height boulder beside him. The garden’s stones were all of roughly the same height, with withered yellow grass poking through their holes and crevices like tufts of wild, wild-haired little dolls. “And it is not some extraordinary formation. To put it plainly — it disorients one’s sense of direction, causing the illusion of being turned around, making it easy to get lost. You thought you had been circling the garden for a long time — in truth, you were going around the same small patch of ground over and over. The areas further in, you never reached at all.”

Ding Kun was elated. “Then surely the Fourth Young Master has a way to break the formation?”

Tianshu: “Breaking any formation requires selecting the proper exit route according to the principles of the Mysterious Gate and Concealed Armor method. Hua the Fourth — just tell us which way to go, and we will follow without question.”

Hua Yitang let the corners of his eyes lift just slightly, fanning himself with serene composure. “Do not be hasty — allow Hua to have a look first.”

Under the star-bright, eager gazes of everyone present, Hua Yitang sauntered forward in his own unhurried way — wandering left, strolling right, climbing up a boulder to shade his eyes with his fan and peer into the distance, then dropping back down, retracing his steps along the way they had come, and shuffling back.

Everyone: “Well?”

Hua Yitang maintained his professional expression of calm assurance. “Simple, simple,” he said, and even as he spoke, he edged over to Lin Sui’an’s side and tugged at her sleeve. Lin Sui’an raised an eyebrow and looked at him sideways.

Hua Yitang’s fan covered his mouth as he made a series of vague, hedging sounds. “This formation is somewhat tricky. Conventional methods will not break it — an unconventional approach is required.”

Lin Sui’an: “……”

In other words — this self-proclaimed half-expert can’t crack it, can he?

Hua Yitang heaved an elaborate sigh, snapped the fan shut, and rapped it against his palm. “Ah, Hua Yitang was too hasty — this formation bears the name of the Formation of the Hundred Evils of Ox-Ghosts and Snake-Gods, and cannot be compared to any ordinary illusory-path array. Fortunately, none of you have been inside for too long — but had any of you remained for more than two hours, the malevolent energy within the formation would have invaded your mind. The results, at minimum, would be madness — at worst, death!”

Everyone went pale with alarm. Ding Kun cried out, “Then what are we to do?!”

Hua Yitang raised a calming hand. “Do not be alarmed. Though this formation is formidable, there happens to be a treasure at hand capable of breaking it — which, given the circumstances, is a stroke of extraordinary fortune within misfortune.”

The Seven Stars looked at one another, bewildered. “All we see here are wild grass and stones. What treasure?”

“Why, it is naturally—” Hua Yitang snapped his fan open with a flourish and waved it flamboyantly at Lin Sui’an, “—the blade in our Lady Lin’s hand — Qian Jing!“

Everyone: “Pardon?”

Lin Sui’an looked at Hua Yitang, completely at a loss for words.

“Qian Jing — Qian Jing — one thousand impurities — all things vile and demonic, this blade shall purify.” Hua Yitang intoned solemnly. “What are mere ox-ghosts and serpent-demons against such a blade?!”

Lin Sui’an could not hold it in any longer. A helpless laugh burst out of her.

The Pure Gate members’ expressions of hopeful anticipation had transformed, one by one, into the blank, lifeless stares of dead fish. You are making fools of us, aren’t you?!

Exposed in his deception, Hua Yitang showed not a flicker of shame — instead he held his fan aloft in a solemn, oath-swearing gesture. “Every word Hua Yitang has spoken is the absolute truth, sincere and unwavering!”

“Right then. Understood.” Lin Sui’an shook her head in helpless resignation. She stepped forward, drew Qian Jing, and with a lazy backhanded sweep — a slender green line of light, like a laser cutter — she cleaved the nearest boulder in two. Everyone’s jaws fell open. The rock was exceptionally hard — ordinary blades could not have touched it. That Qian Jing was a renowned blade went without saying, but what was even more astonishing was the strength and angle of Lin Sui’an’s technique. What looked completely effortless was in fact exquisitely controlled — something only a supreme master forged through countless battles could produce.

Hua Yitang shook with suppressed laughter, wearing an expression that very clearly said: See? Told you I wasn’t wrong.

Lin Sui’an flexed her wrist, found the feel of splitting the boulders rather satisfying, and warmed to the task — three steps and two strides forward, horizontal sweep, vertical chop, diagonal slash, backhanded arc, straight thrust, another horizontal sweep. Crack, crack, crack — she cut a path through them all, the blade’s wind gusting, green light scattering across the sky. Hua Yitang fanned himself and strolled in Lin Sui’an’s wake, with the Pure Gate members clicking their tongues and filing behind Hua Yitang, going deeper and deeper.

The garden was larger than any of them had imagined. Ding Kun and the others quickly realized they had reached an area they had never been before. The wild grass here was barely trampled — clearly no one had passed through here recently. All of a sudden, Tianshu crouched down, pressing his cheek close to the ground and peering through the roots of the grass. “Someone has been here before.”

Lin Sui’an split a boulder and glanced back. “Was it Jin Ruo?”

Tianshu looked somewhat chagrined. “My tracking skills aren’t very good — I can’t tell.”

Ding Kun scratched his head. “If only the Young Sect Master were here — his tracking ability would find the Young Sect Master!”

Lin Sui’an: “……”

Elder Tenth, you really are a remarkable thinker.

Hua Yitang: “It tells us we’re headed in the right direction. Onward!”

The further they went, the taller the grass became, and the fewer the boulders — adding to Lin Sui’an’s tasks the role of a grass-cutting machine in addition to boulder-splitter. After another quarter of an hour or so, a low-lying area appeared ahead. Lin Sui’an stopped and stood on tiptoe to peer over. Something large and dark seemed to lurk within the grass. She turned back. “There is something ahead.”

Hua Yitang leaned in to have a look. “Too much grass. Can’t see clearly.”

Lin Sui’an nodded. She sent Qian Jing spiraling from her palm — spinning like a blade of a rotary scythe, sweeping one full arc — and the blade returned to her hand. The grass was shaved clean in one sweep, revealing a massive boulder standing alone at the center of the clearing — more than a person’s height, over five chi wide at its base, its form jagged and contorted, radiating a quality of cold, silent menace.

“Shall I split it?” Lin Sui’an asked.

Hua Yitang shook his head. “Most likely the eye of the formation — do not disturb it lightly.” He gestured for everyone to hold their positions and, using only the tips of his shoes to test the ground in the low area before him, lifted his robes and tiptoed carefully to the side of the boulder. He circled it once, then his expression shifted entirely. He plastered himself against the boulder like a gecko, ear pressed flat against the stone for a long moment — then sprang back and shouted, “There’s a sound!”

Everyone surged forward in a rush, pressing themselves against the boulder like a spread of plasters, seven or eight of them in every awkward configuration. They held their breath and listened — and indeed, a faint, rhythmic knocking reached them: Thud-thud. Thud. Thud-thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud. Thud-thud-thud—

Tianshu: “That is the Pure Gate Sect’s secret signal!”

Ding Kun: “It’s coming up through the stone — there’s someone underground!”

Hua Yitang, disregarding any concern for cleanliness now, threw himself onto the ground and ran both hands carefully along the base of the boulder, working his way around the perimeter. He pulled out several clumps of grass roots with force, excavated a small hollow, and plunged his sleeve up to the elbow inside, feeling about. “There is an iron implement beneath — it may be the mechanism for a concealed door!”

“Everyone stand back!” Lin Sui’an delivered three swift cuts to the boulder, dividing it into upper, middle, and lower thirds, then landed three firm kicks — thud, thud, thud — and most of the stone went sailing. She drove both hands into the ground below the remaining base, and with one sharp heave, flipped the rest of the stone and its entire base onto its side.

The group swarmed over it, using their blades as shovels and digging furiously. Soon, a rusted iron ring emerged — the very thing Hua Yitang had felt moments ago. They dug another foot down and uncovered a broad expanse of rust-mottled iron plate. The ring was set into the plate, and the plate’s edges had rusted entirely into the surrounding earth.

The knocking from beneath was growing clearer — someone was unmistakably down there. Lin Sui’an cut away four lines of rust around the perimeter, dropped into her stance, and gripped the iron ring with both hands, hauling upward. The plate groaned open a crack. Everyone scrambled in to help. With nine people’s combined effort and exhaustive labor, the plate at last came free — it was three inches thick, and beneath it was a dark, black opening that plunged without visible end.

Hua Yitang produced a luminous pearl and tossed it in, then bellowed at full volume: “Whoever is inside — person or ghost — make some noise!”

The pearl’s faint glow fell in a straight line downward and was soon swallowed by the darkness. Then, after a long pause — click.

And from within the pit came Jin Ruo’s voice: “You — what’s your surname again — Hua — you’ve hit me in the head with that thing!”

He sounded perfectly full of energy.

The group erupted in collective joy, all crowding to the edge of the pit, calling out “Young Sect Master” in turn.

Lin Sui’an let out a long breath. Only then did she notice that she had been straining so hard her arms were trembling slightly. Hua Yitang sat down heavily on the ground, bared his teeth at Lin Sui’an with what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile.

Ding Kun ordered the Pure Gate members to braid their personal rope lengths together into a thicker rope and lower it into the pit. The rope trembled as though something heavy had been tied to it — and everyone chanted together and hauled upward in unison. As whatever was attached to the rope rose inch by inch toward the opening, the expressions on their faces grew stranger and stranger by the moment.

It was not Jin Ruo — but a slender-framed young woman, hair disheveled, clutching the little beggar boy fiercely to her chest.

Lin Sui’an quickly stepped forward, freed the young woman and the little beggar boy, and took the handkerchief from Hua Yitang to gently wipe the young woman’s face. She was delicate-featured, appeared to be around fifteen, her cheeks sunken with hunger, but her eyes were bright and clear.

The little beggar boy tightened both arms around the young woman’s neck, showing a mouthful of small white baby teeth. “Master Hua the Deity — I found Sister Xue!”

Hua Yitang froze. “You are… Zhong Xue?”

The young woman gave a small nod.

“She’s out! Another young lady!” Ding Kun shouted.

The second person lifted out was a foreign girl — clothing in tatters, face caked with dust, so starved she had nearly lost consciousness. Then came the third, the fourth… the tenth. Other than Zhong Xue, all the rest were young foreign girls.

The eleventh — was Jin Ruo. He gripped the edge of the pit and hauled himself out with nimble ease, spitting out mouthfuls of dirt. “Nearly got buried alive — lucky I’m hard to kill.” He crossed to Zhong Xue in two steps and gave the little beggar boy a firm smack on the backside. “Next time you go crawling into some hole without telling anyone, I’ll tan your hide!”

Lin Sui’an gave Jin Ruo a firm smack on the back of the head. “And the next time you go running off on your own — I’ll use you for sparring practice.”

The little beggar boy rubbed his bottom, very aggrieved. “But I saved Sister Zhong.”

Jin Ruo rubbed his head, also very aggrieved. “I saved a lot of people, too!”

Lin Sui’an shot them both a look. Jin Ruo fell silent at once.

Ding Kun, who had the most situational awareness of anyone present, hurried over to smooth things over. “Young Sect Master — what happened down there with these young ladies?”

Jin Ruo spat again in disgust. “That bastard Tatargan — as if everything else weren’t enough — he was also trafficking in human beings!”

The Court of Judicial Review’s prison was located within the Imperial City, home to the Court of Judicial Review itself — one of the Eastern Capital’s most renowned central detention facilities. It held over two hundred cells with a capacity for more than five hundred prisoners, and was organized according to the rule that “the noble and the common, men and women, are not to share the same prison.” It was divided into the Men’s Prison, the Women’s Prison, and the Three-Grade Courtyard. The Men’s and Women’s Prisons require no explanation. The Three-Grade Courtyard was rather exceptional — it was a specialized prison for officials of the third rank and above, occupying its own separately constructed section of the compound. To call these cells cells was generous — in reality they were indistinguishable from ordinary residences, complete with garden, side rooms, and flowerbeds. The high-ranking officials confined within enjoyed their freedom of movement curtailed, nothing more; all other aspects of daily life remained identical to what they experienced outside. It was a prison in name only, and as such, had become something of a signature feature unique to the Court of Judicial Review’s prison.

The prison warden, Old Liang, felt both apprehension and helplessness when it came to these privileged inmates of the Three-Grade Courtyard. Those not yet convicted had to be handled with the utmost delicacy — who could say when the tide might turn in their favor? Those already convicted still could not be offended — as the saying goes, even a lean camel is bigger than a horse.

He had thought the Three-Grade Courtyard was already trouble enough — but today, a new batch of inmates had arrived, and they were proving to be an even greater headache. The ringleader was Fujiao Ward’s headman, one Tatargan — a Persian. By convention, foreign nationals charged with crimes were designated “hua wai ren fan” — persons of foreign jurisdiction — and were to be first verified for nationality and citizenship, then transferred to the Foreign Peoples’ Prison under the Court of Foreign Affairs, where the Court of Foreign Affairs, the Ministry of Justice, and the Court of Judicial Review would jointly deliberate and reach a verdict.

Foreign defendants were, after all, a delicate matter requiring prudent handling, lest some diplomatic incident be sparked. Besides, the Foreign Peoples’ Prison was not far away — also within the Imperial City, through the Chongguang North Gate, past the Left Spring Residence, and a short turn south — a walk of at most half an hour. Yet today, against all convention, Court President Chen had set his jaw like iron and insisted on detaining these Persians within the Court of Judicial Review’s own prison — even personally donning his official armor to oversee the interrogation.

Old Liang had dropped several hints — overt and subtle alike — but Court President Chen had not heard a word of them. Even the usually accommodating Deputy Court President Zhang Huai had turned a deaf ear. Having no other recourse, Old Liang could only grit his teeth and proceed according to the Court of Judicial Review’s own rules — tidy up the interrogation room, prepare the questioning instruments, and pray that this wretched case would be resolved swiftly, once and for all.

Old Liang had served as warden for sixteen years and had seen every kind of scene imaginable. But today’s lineup at the interrogation table was genuinely extraordinary — outlandish in a way that permeated everything.

Court President Chen was the presiding judge. Deputy Court President Zhang and Investigator Ling served as the left and right associate judges. This was all perfectly regular. But the observers were a peculiar lot — a young gentleman dressed in elaborately ornate robes, a young woman with sharp, striking eyes who had the brazen nerve to carry a blade on her person, and another young gentleman with a complexion so gloomy and dark he looked as though he had been dragged out of a rat hole. These three were seated side by side off to the side — with snacks to eat, no less — and their bearing and demeanor gave less the impression of people present to witness a court proceeding than people who had arrived on an autumn outing. Old Liang had looked them over several times before finally recognizing the one in the most ostentatious outfit as the extraordinarily famous Fourth Young Master Hua of the Hua Family. No wonder he could be so outrageous with Court President Chen sitting right there — who, throughout the entire Tang Kingdom, would dare provoke the Hua Family?

When the actual interrogation of Tatargan got underway, Old Liang finally understood why Court President Chen had refused to transfer the case to the Court of Foreign Affairs. This Persian had truly committed every manner of unconscionable act — smuggling contraband salt, trafficking illegal tea, keeping hired thugs, bullying the populace, levying unauthorized taxes, trafficking in human beings. The evidence was watertight and complete. Every single charge carried a death sentence many times over.

Tatargan seemed to have accepted his fate as well. He knelt on the ground curled in on himself and confessed to every charge without resistance — until Court President Chen asked one particular question, and he froze entirely.

Chen Yanfan: “Confess at once — how you proceeded to murder Chen San’niang, Qu Si’niang, Feng Er’niang, and twelve other women!”

Tatargan: “I have never killed anyone! I have never, not once, killed anyone!”

Ling Zhiyan: “Was it not you who abducted Zhong Xue?”

“Zhong Xue?” Tatargan paused. “Ah — this — before heaven and earth I swear, I have always dealt in foreign girls. This was the first time I tried to deal in a Tang-registered girl from a good family. I hadn’t even managed to sell her yet when the Court of Judicial Review came knocking. Does that count as attempted trafficking?”

“I’ll give you attempted!” Chen Yanfan’s spittle sprayed directly into Tatargan’s face.

Tatargan kowtowed repeatedly. “Yes, yes, I am guilty beyond measure. But as for murder — I genuinely have had no part in it! I deal in human beings for profit, and these girls are all money to me. Why would I kill them? If I kill them, I lose the investment! As for those — what were they called — San’niang, Er’niang, Si’niang — the word around the ward is that it was all done by the creature called Xiang Liu! You haven’t caught Xiang Liu, so you can’t come and make me your scapegoat! This is a terrible injustice, my lord! Please, my lord, see clearly!”

“Was this truly your first time abducting a Tang Kingdom woman?” Hua Yitang spoke up suddenly.

“I can provide the names of the buyers for all my previous transactions involving foreign girls — feel free to investigate!” Tatargan raised his hand in a solemn oath-swearing gesture, then paused. “Would this count as… mitigating service, my lords?”

“Consider it counted — absolutely.” Chen Yanfan’s oil-gleaming forehead caught the cold, harsh candlelight of the interrogation room and reflected it back. “You were originally going to die eight times. Now dying once will be sufficient.”

Tatargan started screaming like a slaughtered pig. “I am a Persian national! The laws of your Tang Kingdom have no authority over me! I demand to see the officials of the Court of Foreign Affairs! I demand to see the Persian Ambassador!”

Chen Yanfan stared at Tatargan with a cold, flat glare. “I don’t care what country you’re from — as long as you do business and reside in our Tang Kingdom, you will abide by the laws of our Tang Kingdom! Men — take him to the cells and hold him, pending—”

“Court President Chen, one moment!” A loud call rang out from beyond the interrogation room door, and a group of people strode in hurriedly. At their head was a young official in a red robe, followed by a golden-haired, blue-eyed Persian in opulent attire, bearing an expression of imperious disdain.

“Luo Shaoqing, Junior Chief of the Court of Foreign Affairs, presents himself before Court President Chen and Deputy Court President Zhang.” The red-robed official cupped his fists in salute and made introductions. “This is Sha Shamu, Persian Ambassador to the Tang Kingdom. He has an urgent matter to bring before Court President Chen.”

Sha Shamu made a brief, perfunctory bow toward Chen Yanfan, then spoke several words in Persian to Tatargan. No one present understood a word — except Hua Yitang, who made a quiet, dismissive sound.

Lin Sui’an: “What did he say?”

Hua Yitang: “He said — Tatargan, do not worry. These Tang people cannot convict you.”