Chapter 303: Hello Chang'an
Chapter 303: Divine Retribution
Zheng Ji swiftly arrived at the altar in the city and saw Zheng Chao kneeling atop it, reciting the many sins of the Zheng clan in repentance before Heaven.
He first ordered his servants to seize Zheng Chao’s young attendant, then ascended the altar himself. Facing the mass of disaster-stricken commoners crowded below, he could see even more people streaming toward the site from afar.
Most of those gathered were victims of the flood. After more than half a month of inundation, they were homeless and starving, their faces haggard and unkempt.
As they lifted their heads toward the man standing high above them—his robe and hair neat, his long sleeves flowing—they were struck by a sudden realization: those who truly suffered from this calamity did not seem to include these noble clansmen.
The man’s tone remained calm, yet carried the innate superiority of one accustomed to command, as though merely deigning to speak to them was already an act of condescension.
“I am Zheng Ji, the head of the Zheng clan. Ever since my elder brother was deposed as clan head, he has harbored resentment and spoken irrationally. His words today are the ravings of a madman—none of you need take them seriously.”
He cared little whether the commoners believed him or not; it was enough merely to provide an explanation—one that branded Zheng Chao as insane and thereby nullified his words.
He approached his kneeling brother, lowering his gaze. “Brother, matters of the clan are many. Cease this nonsense and return home with me.”
Saying so, he extended a pristine hand.
Zheng Chao looked at that hand—so clean and pale. Having spent days repairing the dikes alongside Cui Jing, he had long forgotten the sight of such unblemished skin.
But that purity and refinement were only surface deep, much like the so-called noble clansmen who adorned themselves in gentility.
Zheng Chao gazed at that hand and asked, “Jianzhi, do you still remember what we were most often taught in our childhood studies?”
Zheng Ji said nothing. In truth, he had long disdained to answer him.
“It was the Way of the Gentleman,” Zheng Chao said. Grasping Zheng Ji’s hand, he used it to slowly rise, then released it. “From youth, we were taught the highest principles of a true gentleman.”
“Your courtesy name, Jianzhi—taken from jianji, ‘to benefit all’—do you recall its meaning? To bring blessing to all living beings, to let all under Heaven partake in well-being—that is jianji.” As Zheng Chao spoke, he turned his gaze to the crowd of commoners below. “I always believed that once we grew up, we would indeed use what we had learned to bring benefit to the world.”
“But when I came of age, they suddenly changed their tune!” His voice trembled with bitter laughter. “The Way of the Gentleman was cast aside—only self-interest remained! When I spoke to them again of righteousness, they called me mad!”
“Why is that? What kind of world permits such reasoning?” His voice rose higher, his expression fierce and pained, his eyes bloodshot. “These so-called noble clans are but robes of false virtue! They believe themselves pure and lofty, severing the road to the heavens, while those humble commoners and poor scholars below are, in their eyes, no better than insects, as filthy as mud, as ignorant as beasts!”
Zheng Ji remained unmoved by his anguish. He merely took out a handkerchief and wiped a speck of dirt from his fingers, his lips curving into a mocking smile. “Brother, such naïve words—better saved for home.”
Zheng Chao took several steps back. “Such a clan of nobility does not deserve to exist!”
He raised a trembling hand and pointed directly at Zheng Ji. “Were it not for you, it would not perish in this manner. It was you who colluded with Xu Zhengye, your arrogance and blind ambition that have doomed not only the Zhengs, but all noble families of Zhongyuan! The innocent clansmen should not die for your crimes!”
Zheng Ji’s expression finally shifted.
The murmurs among the crowd grew louder. His eyes darkened, and he spoke in a low, chilling tone. “No, the Zheng clan has not lost—nor has it reached its end.”
Zheng Chao’s voice was hoarse, full of sorrow and fury. “What counts as defeat to you? Must you see every member of the Zheng clan die before your eyes, until none remain, before you will admit it?”
Even now, his cousin sought to gamble with the lives of their innocent kin for one final act of defiance.
Zheng Ji looked him in the eyes, and in a voice only the two could hear, said coldly, “And what of you, Brother? Do you truly believe that mere almsgiving and prayers can save the Zheng clan?”
Zheng Chao met his gaze. “No. That alone is far from enough. There are still two more things that must be done—and one of them, I must do myself.”
Zheng Ji frowned instinctively and was just about to speak when—without warning—Zheng Chao raised his hand. A gleam of steel flashed.
“Pchh—”
The dagger plunged straight into Zheng Ji’s chest.
“Ling’an told me—first lure you here, then make you lower your guard, and finally strike with certainty…” Zheng Chao’s voice quavered, but his eyes were resolute.
“You…” Zheng Ji’s face contorted, his eyes wide in disbelief. His complexion turned deathly pale. He struggled to lift his hand, gripping Zheng Chao’s wrist in an effort to push him away.
But Zheng Chao clasped the dagger with both hands and drove it deeper. The force of it made Zheng Ji stagger backward.
“Thud!”
Zheng Ji collapsed. Zheng Chao fell upon him, still clutching the dagger, tears streaming down his face. “Jianzhi… You never thought I’d kill you, did you? Even I never thought I would!”
He pulled the blade free and plunged it down again.
Below the altar, screams erupted.
Zheng Ji had been standing with his back to the crowd; only now did the people see what had transpired.
Several of Zheng Ji’s followers cried out in horror. “Zheng Chao, you dare murder the clan head?!”
They tried to rush up the altar, but were blocked by hidden guards whose faces were unfamiliar.
“The madman plotted this all along!” the Zheng clansmen shouted. “Fetch the patriarch at once!”
The scene descended into chaos. Even the monks seated on the altar chanting sutras turned pale and rose in alarm—only to find their path blocked by a girl with a sword.
“Masters, there is no need for fear,” Chang Suining said calmly. “This, too, is part of the ritual.”
The monks: “…”
No one had mentioned this part of the ritual!
Seeing the sword in her arms and the guards behind her, the lead monk forced himself to utter a trembling chant and politely asked whether any more “ritual parts” would follow.
The youngest novice was ashen-faced. Would they, too, be “part of the ritual” before it ended?!
“No,” Chang Suining said, turning her gaze toward Zheng Chao, who knelt upon the ground. “No more shall die.”
Zheng Chao tore a strip from Zheng Ji’s blood-soaked robe, lifted it high together with the dagger, and cried out with trembling voice, “O Heaven and Earth, gods and Buddhas above! I have slain the true culprit of our sins!”
The scene was both solemn and chilling.
A few frightened commoners whispered, “He truly must be mad…”
“Seems he’s gone insane.”
“…”
“No—he’s not mad!” a young scholar suddenly exclaimed, face pale with shock. “He is the Gentleman of the Thatched Hall!”
The Gentleman of the Thatched Hall?!
How could it be him?
Almost all in Xingyang had heard that name—especially among the learned.
From about seven or eight years ago, in an abandoned thatched hall outside the city, there suddenly appeared a man who began lecturing there.
At first, no one went to listen, but since he did not collect any tuition and allowed everyone to attend, before long, he had a few students.
Later, the reputation of this “Thatched Hall Master” spread. The number of students coming to listen grew ever larger, though his lectures were irregular—sometimes he disappeared for three or five days—but even so, there were always scholars eager to come and hear him.
No one knew this Thatched Hall Master’s surname or given name. He never showed his face, always wore a dull gray robe and a bamboo hat veiled with black gauze, claiming that his face had been disfigured and was unfit to be seen.
Now, he had been recognized—because of his voice.
A man’s face may be hidden, but his voice cannot deceive those who often listened to him lecture.
The dozen or so scholars gathered before the altar were utterly stunned.
They had never imagined that beneath the Thatched Hall Master’s hat lay the identity of a son of the Zheng family.
“The Eldest Master of the Zheng family is the Thatched Hall Master!”
The cry quickly spread through the crowd, drawing more and more scholars to the site.
And along with them came the troops led by Li Xian.
The Zheng family clansmen, already in a panic, turned pale when they heard Li Xian had arrived.
“How could he come so fast…”
The family head had clearly ordered men to ambush Li Xian on his way into the city—
Where were those men?!
The crowd of commoners was forced aside as the soldiers advanced toward the altar. The Zheng clansmen, seeing this, turned ashen with despair.
The family head was dead, and the blade of slaughter had arrived...
One clansman staggered backward, drawing something from his sleeve. His expression hardened with grim resolve.
Moments later, three sharp and piercing arrow whistles rang through the air above the crowd.
The altar stood at the main road leading to the Zheng family estate.
By the time Li Xian reached it, he had already been informed of Zheng Ji’s death.
As his horse slowed near the altar, he raised his head toward the darkened sky.
When the last echo of the whistle faded, he smiled faintly.
“To report now—don’t you think it’s a little too late?”
His smile disappeared as he looked toward the altar and shouted,
“The Yuan family of Luoyang has already confessed! The collusion between the Central Plains aristocrats and Xu Zhengye was all under the command of the Zheng family head, Zheng Ji!”
Then, coldly, he gave his order:
“Arrest all members of the Zheng clan! Any who resist—kill without mercy!”
At once, the soldiers behind him surrounded the altar on all sides.
At that same moment, within the Zheng estate, those aware of the signal stood stunned and dismayed.
Three arrow whistles meant the plan had failed—but how could it fail so quickly?
They had arranged an ambush! Why had it been of no use?!
Moments later, panic-stricken servants ran into the hall to report:
“The family head Zheng Ji is dead—slain by Zheng Chao himself!”
“Heaven has abandoned the Zheng clan…!”
An elderly clansman spat blood and collapsed, supported by those beside him.
“The Zheng clan may perish—but we must not let those vile thieves take our legacy!”
“Since matters have come to this, we shall carry out the family head’s final orders!”
Several clansmen rushed out of the hall.
For generations, the true heirloom of every aristocratic clan had never been their wealth or estates, but the rare and precious books passed down through the ages.
As the foremost of the Central Plains aristocratic families, the Zheng clan’s collection was vast.
Their books were stored in several library pavilions, their locations kept secret and protected by mechanisms and guards day and night.
This was true of other great clans as well.
Thus, in recent days, Li Xian had tortured and executed countless sons of noble houses to force them to reveal where their collections were hidden.
The keys to the Zheng clan’s libraries were always held by the family head—
but last night, Zheng Ji had given those keys to his clansmen.
“I have already slain the culprit Zheng Ji!
By the order of blood and seniority, I am now the Zheng family head!”
On the altar, Zheng Chao knelt with his forehead to the ground.
“I am willing to offer all of the Zheng family’s lands, estates, and collections!
I am willing for the Zheng family of Yingyang to be reduced to commoners!
I am willing, bearing my guilt, to lead our surviving sons throughout the realm to lecture and preach—
to return ourselves to the world, and atone for the Zheng clan’s sins!”
When he finished, he struck his head again against the wet altar, splashing muddy water.
At that very moment, the libraries he spoke of were about to be consumed by fire.
Within the three pavilions of the Zheng family collection, pine oil had been poured across the floors.
“…So be it, so be it!”
“Today, I will perish alongside the Zheng clan’s teachings!”
A clansman, weeping in despair, reached for a torch from a servant’s hand—
but before it could touch the ground, an arrow pierced his knee, knocking him forward.
Footsteps echoed sharply as soldiers entered the library.
The startled servant dropped the torch—
A figure leapt forward, catching it midair and exhaling softly, “That was close…”
Cui Ling’an handed the torch to another man.
“Take it out and extinguish it.”
The injured clansman, dragging his wounded leg, stared up at the tall, straight figure entering the room. His voice trembled in fury:
“It’s you… Cui Ling’an!”
“You—what are you doing?!”
Having already been attacked, he no longer harbored illusions of help.
Cui Jing ignored him, ordering his men to extinguish all flames, remove the torches, and guard the building inside and out.
The wounded man was soon dragged out and thrown onto the stone steps.
“It’s you! You ruined the family head’s plan—it was you!”
“This is your mother’s clan—you share the same blood!”
“Cui Jing, you aid the wicked and disgrace all noble families—may Heaven strike you down!”
Cui Jing did not respond.
He soon saw Zheng family members fleeing in terror—
women clutching their children, hairpins falling loose, ornaments scattered.
Others shouted curses at him in hatred.
A young man suddenly rushed forward from the side, sword raised toward Cui Jing.
Cui Jing did not order his men to harm him.
He simply reached out, gripped the blade, and snapped it in half with his bare hands.
The youth stumbled backward, clutching the broken sword, eyes red with fury.
“Cui Ling’an—you will be condemned by Heaven!”
The young man before him remained calm, his expression deep and cold as still water.
“If Heaven condemns me alone, but the rest of you can live—what of it?”
He turned and walked away.
The youth stood frozen, gripping the broken sword in silence.
At last, he dropped to his knees, howling in anguish.
Back at the altar, Li Xian was about to seize Zheng Chao when a figure appeared before him.
His eyes narrowed.
“General Ningyuan—why are you here?”
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