Han Zhi felt he had sufficient confidence to fulfill his promises to Zhang Run. He never hesitated to scheme against people with the worst malice, and no one was exempt. Yet Zhang Run was the first person he’d liked in his youth, the one who made him realize he simply couldn’t fall for a woman. As long as it didn’t affect his own interests, he didn’t mind keeping someone he still rather liked.
But living exactly as one pleased was difficult—first, one needed sufficient bargaining chips. He assigned more men to blend into the marketplaces and outskirts, redoubling his efforts to search for that group of people who’d slipped through their grasp.
Even Wei Yanxi felt this was truly searching for a needle in a haystack. Wiping away sweat, he asked if they should consider other methods. “Last time we made such a huge commotion, they’ll definitely be extremely cautious. They probably won’t show themselves anytime soon. Continuing to search like this isn’t working.” The manpower and resources being expended were extraordinary, and recently people from the Imperial Guard had been watching them.
“Chen Xiang’s side is a bottomless pit. If we keep making such a fuss, who knows how much silver we’ll have to throw in.” Guan Shan also urged, “Yanxi makes sense. It took us two years just to get close to that group, but now we’ve startled the snake in the grass. They probably won’t come out to operate for a very long time.”
But Han Zhi wasn’t anxious. On the contrary, he maintained tremendous patience regarding this matter. After hearing Guan Shan and Wei Yanxi’s discouraging words, he wasn’t even angry. He looked over the records in his hands again and again, then smiled. “No, quite the opposite. Our people have been following them for some time now. The records submitted earlier clearly note that during this period their activities have been very frequent. Since their activities are frequent, that means they constantly have things to do. Now that we’ve destroyed this hideout of theirs, they must find another.”
He’d never been one to fear trouble—otherwise he wouldn’t have spent two years searching for the group that killed Song Chuning. He had the patience to play this game with them.
“Many things seem difficult when you think about them, like aimlessly searching for a needle in a haystack. But if you use your brain, you’ll know that no matter how difficult something is, there’s always a place to start.” Han Zhi dipped his brush in cinnabar and circled several spots in red on the paper, pointing them out to the two men. “If you don’t believe me, look carefully—weren’t our people frequently losing track of them in the capital outskirts?”
With this illustration, both Wei Yanxi and Guan Shan’s eyes widened in astonishment.
A cunning rabbit has three burrows—meaning the residence near the Huangdaxian Temple in the capital was likely just one of their hideouts. They had another one. And according to the pattern over these two years, their other hideout was very likely in the capital outskirts.
“Search suspicious locations in batches.” Han Zhi casually tossed the brush on the table, his face wearing its customary cold smile. “Stuff more money Chen Xiang’s way and make a big commotion. Tell everyone we’re looking for escaped slaves from our estate. The more of a fuss we make, the less they’ll be able to sit still. Once they can’t sit still, they’ll come out looking for connections.”
After several days of high-profile searching and creating disturbances, a rabbit finally came crashing into the tree.
He sat in the residence they’d searched countless times before, not even lifting his eyes as he gave a cold laugh. “Speak honestly—if I’m in a good mood, I might spare your life.”
This was the first thing worth celebrating this year besides obtaining Zhang Run’s forgiveness, so even though it was a cold laugh, he tried to control himself to not seem too sinister. He put his hands behind his head and leaned comfortably into the rocking chair.
The person below made no sound, lips pressed tightly together, looking prepared to die.
Guan Shan viciously pressed against the back of the man’s knees from behind, forcing him to kneel on the ground. His eyes looked at Han Zhi. “Heir, should we use torture?”
Han Zhi’s face held a smile, but that smile didn’t reach his eyes even slightly. He stretched out his leg and kicked the man’s chin. The man was sent tumbling backward in a somersault, the back of his head striking the steps with a heavy thud, dark threads of blood seeping from beside his lips.
Guan Shan had already nimbly dodged to the side. Han Zhi extended his foot and patted the dust off his shoe, then walked a few steps to stand before the man, placing his foot on top of his head. His voice was cold. “I’ve been giving you face—you should take it. Though this place isn’t quite the Ministry of Justice’s prison, it’s not much worse. If you’re stubborn with me, I have plenty of ways to make you wish you were dead!”
His eyes swept over the man’s body once, his gaze settling on his hands—the palms had thick calluses, and even the tiger’s mouth had old scars that looked years old. He’d actually been a soldier. Han Zhi’s suspicions grew tremendously. He crouched down and gripped the man’s hand, examining it carefully for a while, his face still holding an inexplicable smile. “Even if you say nothing, I have ways to find out your identity. Wouldn’t it be more worthwhile to suffer less and tell me whose man you are?”
Han Zhi’s grip was extremely strong, wrenching the man’s fingers backward almost perpendicular to the back of his hand. Soon the man’s fingers made a crisp cracking sound, his index finger hanging limply—clearly broken.
The man broke out in a forehead full of sweat, his whole face pale as he leaned back. His hair was plastered wetly to his face and neck by sweat, yet he still gritted his teeth without making a sound.
Ma Wangkun wasn’t truly this tough—he was just a man who’d lived his whole life without much to look forward to, only hoping to see his son and daughter advance and find good matches. Song Chuyi had been utterly benevolent and righteous to his family members, arranging everything well for them. If he betrayed her now, never mind whether Song Chuyi would spare his parents, wife, son and daughter—even Cui Shaoting and Cui Yingshu wouldn’t let him go.
When he’d been a bandit, he’d already carried his head on his belt. Having lived through so many years of bloodshed and violence, he’d never expected to still be alive. Even if he truly died at this man’s hands this time, exchanging it for his family’s lifetime of peace and prosperity would be worth it.
Having resolved himself to certain death, he instead felt that the burning pain from his jaw and fingers wasn’t really pain anymore. He tilted his head back, gritting his teeth and staring at Han Zhi’s cold smile without uttering a word.
Han Zhi hadn’t expected him to suddenly laugh. When he saw the man’s provocative smile, he couldn’t help but laugh in extreme anger, kicking him in the abdomen and sending him flying far away. He turned to order Guan Shan, “Spread the word—say I’ve captured one of the bandits who committed the crime back then!”
If this man wouldn’t talk, he naturally had other methods. He’d grind him down slowly, make him try every kind of pain, and see if he’d confess. Even if he didn’t confess, his accomplices outside would grow anxious.
Taking out a handkerchief to wipe his hands, he stared darkly at the next room for a long while, revealing a meaningful smile.