Zhāng Tāng sat studying Guān Mò — whose mouth was still bleeding — with not a trace of pity in his expression.

A man like this, in Zhāng Tāng’s estimation, would not be too harshly punished even by death by a thousand cuts. So long as he gave a complete confession, that verdict would not be unjust.

In strict legal terms, the offense didn’t technically meet the threshold for that — but this case was singular. The first great case of the new Dàníng dynasty. A heavy sentence was certain.

“You are fortunate beyond all measure.”

Zhāng Tāng poured a cup of tea, turned as if to offer it to Guān Mò, then made a show of catching himself: oh right, you can’t drink.

He sat across from Guān Mò and breathed out slowly.

“Someone like you doesn’t deserve such luck. But then — who can argue with the timing?”

He settled into his seat and held the cup to his nose, taking in the fragrance.

“You won’t die. That much you can rest assured of. And you won’t be pressed to say too much — that, too, you can rest assured of. The former is because Xú Jì cannot afford to fall yet, so you cannot be killed. The latter is also because Xú Jì cannot afford to fall yet, so there’s nothing you need to say.”

A flash of fear crossed Guān Mò’s eyes. His already pale face grew worse.

He understood.

“Before long, His Majesty will announce your crimes. But these crimes are not so grand — nothing more than… you grew too greedy, plotted to bring down Lù Dàren in order to seize his post as Minister. This is, of course, your error alone. It has nothing to do with anyone else. Nothing to do with the Chancellor.”

Zhāng Tāng continued: “When word of your case reaches the Chancellor, he won’t be thinking about how to save you. He’ll be thinking about how to get rid of you quickly — because by the law, you won’t be sentenced to immediate execution. He will likely appear before His Majesty overcome with grief, saying what a mistake he made in judging your character. Then he’ll go to Lù Chónglóu and offer a sincere apology — probably the same speech again about how badly he misjudged you.”

He said: “If you’re eliminated, the Chancellor can breathe easy. If you merely disappear — vanish — then he will find that very troubling.”

He looked at Guān Mò: “So think about it for yourself — do you want Xú Jì to try to save you, or don’t you?”

Guān Mò immediately shook his head.

Of course he didn’t want it. He knew what kind of man Xú Jì was. Would Xú Jì ever do something that damaged his own interests for Guān Mò’s sake?

“Good. It seems you understand.”

Zhāng Tāng set down the cup, reached over, took Guān Mò’s jaw, and snapped it back into place. Zhāng Tāng was no martial expert, and no physician either — the speed with which he accomplished this was likely nothing more than experience through repetition.

Guān Mò recovered the ability to speak and immediately began pleading through tears: “Zhāng Dàren, please save me — you must save me!”

Zhāng Tāng said: “You’ve already understood what you need to do. That’s why you’re begging me. Because you’ve realized I’m probably the only one who can.”

Guān Mò nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes — from now on I am completely at Dàren’s disposal. Whatever you command, I will do. Whatever you need me to say, I will say.”

He understood clearly: from the moment he’d fallen into the Judicial Bureau’s hands, he was as good as a dead man. He knew too many of Xú Jì’s secrets — Xú Jì would never allow him to live another day.

Zhāng Tāng leaned forward slightly: “When you were in Xú Jì’s presence, were you always so cooperative?”

That question left Guān Mò at a complete loss. The silence grew awkward.

“Never mind,” Zhāng Tāng said evenly. “I won’t make things needlessly difficult for you. The Judicial Bureau will guarantee your safety. Publicly, you will be announced as dismissed from your post for violating the law and expelled from the capital.”

“Someone will impersonate you leaving the city. Where they go is no concern of yours. There may even be a staged assassination — and the fake you will die at the hands of killers.”

Guān Mò nodded vigorously again at this.

“You will be kept alive in a secure location until the day His Majesty requires you to step forward. Do you understand?”

“I understand, I remember everything. Dàren, don’t worry — I know what I need to do.”

Zhāng Tāng gave a quiet affirmation, stood, and walked out.

Guān Mò seemed to lose all his strength the instant the door closed. He sank to the floor, face the color of ash.

In those few short moments, he’d pieced together most of what had truly happened.

He’d been calculated against from the start. Before he’d ever sent his people to the Wàngdòngtíng Teahouse, Lù Chónglóu had already been placed under tight imperial protection.

His men appearing at the teahouse had simply handed His Majesty an opening.

And Guān Mò himself was far too insignificant to be the real target of any imperial scheme. His Majesty could remove him effortlessly at any time.

His Majesty’s real target is the Chancellor…

The thought chilled him to the marrow. Before Xú Jì had left the capital, he’d told Guān Mò that His Majesty stood firmly behind the Chancellor.

Now, thinking about it — that confidence, that self-satisfaction — it had all been hollow.

But what choice did he have?

Escape, then go to Xú Jì to warn him? He wouldn’t survive that either.

Set aside everything else — the moment a fugitive sought out Xú Jì, that alone would be enough to bring Xú Jì down. Xú Jì would kill him first before risking that.

The only path to survival was obedience. Someday, when His Majesty needed him to stand up and testify against Xú Jì — if he did as required, if His Majesty felt a moment of clemency, there was still a chance at life.

An official career? Forget it. Forget it forever. Just surviving would be the greatest fortune.

He was Xú Jì’s confidant, yes — but when survival was at stake, when the choice came down to trusting His Majesty or trusting Xú Jì, he would choose His Majesty without hesitation.

—

While Guān Mò sat thinking all this through, Lǐ Chì had arrived at the Judicial Bureau.

He listened as Zhāng Tāng walked him through the case in detail, then nodded and looked toward Yè Xiǎoqiān: “Get the man and take him to the palace. Find a place to hold him.”

Yè Xiǎoqiān bowed: “Your Majesty, I will.”

No one could have imagined that Guān Mò would end up hidden inside the palace — not even Guān Mò himself.

Lǐ Chì looked at Zhāng Tāng: “You still have things to do — go and do them. I’ve ordered you to go and catch up with Xú Jì on his tour. If he asks you about this case, tell him Guān Mò simply lost his mind and dared to frame a senior official.”

Zhāng Tāng bowed: “Understood.”

Lǐ Chì said: “The reason I’m sending you to follow Xú Jì now is that I worry after a month on the road, his killing intent will grow heavier and heavier — people who shouldn’t die may get caught up in it. Your presence will make him more cautious. He’ll restrain himself somewhat.”

Zhāng Tāng asked: “Your Majesty — if, when I arrive, I find that Xú Jì has overstepped in some way, should I act?”

Lǐ Chì shot him a look. Zhāng Tāng immediately lowered his head and didn’t dare say another word.

Gāo Xīníng also shot him a look — one that said: you’ve been at my side this long, and you’re still this thick?

After being glared at by Gāo Xīníng, the formidable Zhāng Tāng actually stuck out his tongue — visibly contrite.

Lǐ Chì let out a laugh, and looked at Zhāng Tāng: “Do that again and let me see — you, of all people, making that face.”

—

At the same time. The residence of the Academy Director.

Master Yān walked in to find those three old men once again engineering some bizarre contraption. They’d built a shed in the courtyard and spent their days tinkering inside it with tireless enthusiasm.

The Academy Director’s house had a whole room set aside just for their inventions, and it was nearly full.

“Freeloading again?” The Academy Director glanced at Master Yān.

“I have the latest news,” Master Yān said with a smile. “Care to hear it, elders?”

“Stop being coy,” said the Academy Director. “Don’t say it and leave. Say it and stay for dinner.”

Master Yān chuckled and lowered his voice: “Vice Minister of Personnel Guān Mò has been taken in by the Judicial Bureau. He’ll likely be stripped of his post very soon.”

The Academy Director sighed. “My granddaughter I raised has a head full of gossip. And my students — apparently the same.”

The Long-Browed Daoist looked at him: “Has it occurred to you that might be your fault?”

The Academy Director glared at him fiercely.

“His Majesty clearly had no plans to move against Xú Jì,” Master Yān continued, “and yet he’s moved first against Guān Mò, Xú Jì’s closest ally. This will surely unsettle the Chancellor.”

“If you have a theory, just say it,” said the Academy Director. “Why do you keep fishing for our opinions?”

Master Yān smiled again.

He said to the Academy Director: “Your student was only afraid of thinking it through wrong… It seems likely that although His Majesty has no intention of moving against Xú Jì for now, he also can’t allow Xú Jì to expand his influence without limit.”

The Academy Director said: “Not entirely foolish, are you.”

The Long-Browed Daoist continued weaving what looked like a small basket, saying: “His Majesty is willing to let Xú Jì grow stronger and stronger. But certain key individuals must be removed. Right now, Guān Mò is that key individual, so removing him was inevitable. In the future, when another person close to Xú Jì becomes that key individual, that one will be removed too.”

The Academy Director said: “His Majesty can let Xú Jì’s disciples spread across the realm — posts everywhere, Xú Jì’s people everywhere. But within the court itself, not so many can hold real power.”

Master Yān nodded: “Having more of them out in the provinces doesn’t matter much. But if too many of the court’s key positions are all held by Xú Jì’s people — that could cause real trouble.”

“Rubbish!”

The Academy Director glared at Master Yān.

“What trouble could it possibly cause?”

He made a dismissive sound: “His Majesty didn’t remove Guān Mò because he’s afraid of real trouble. He removed Guān Mò because he doesn’t want people like that disrupting the game. In other words — His Majesty is playing a game. He removes the uninteresting pieces, keeps the interesting ones. That’s the kind of game His Majesty wants.”

He looked at Master Yān: “Even if Xú Jì recruited a large faction, even if many powerful court officials were close to him — could they really change the outcome? ‘Real trouble’ — with a word from His Majesty, the imperial army enters the capital. Where exactly is this ‘real trouble’ supposed to come from?”

Master Yān, thoroughly put in his place, dropped his gaze: “Then perhaps I should learn to weave a basket too.”