72: Chapter 72: Key Clues Emerge

Water droplets splashed against the stone slab, making a crisp sound.

Chen Xuan stood still, his ears catching the sound of footsteps coming from the passage behind him.

Those four figures walked further and further away, their breathing, the rustling of their clothes, and the crackling of torches gradually swallowed by the darkness.

Until the last glimmer of light vanished around the corner, he was the only one left in the entire secret passage.

Only then did he slowly pull the "old archives memorandum" from his bosom and open the first page.

The pages were yellowed, the edges slightly curled, and they smelled of a mixture of aged ink and damp stone when touched.

He gently rubbed the handwriting with his fingertips, reading line by line.

The handwriting was scrawled yet coherent, and the ink varied in shade; it was clearly written in haste, but it was definitely not a forgery. When he turned to the third page, his finger paused.

"On the seventh day of the third month, Vice Minister of Revenue Zhang Weizhou received five thousand taels of silver to destroy the disaster relief account books from the Yongchang era."

Below was another line of small text: "Subsequent funds were handled by the Shadow Sect, transferred in three batches into private accounts at Jiangnan banks."

Chen Xuan narrowed his eyes. He had heard the name Vice Minister Zhang Weizhou before. Not because of his political achievements, but because of his mouth; at court meetings, he always wore an expression of concern for the country and the people, talking about cutting expenses and increasing revenue, and purging corruption, yet behind everyone's back, he was the one raking in the most.

There had long been rumors in the streets that three cellars full of silver ingots had been dug up in his backyard, but the next day the family moved away, and no one mentioned it again.

But did he really dare to destroy the disaster relief accounts? That was a matter that would cost him his head.

Chen Xuan flipped back a few more pages and discovered it wasn't just one transaction.

On the eleventh day of the fourth month, Vice Minister Zhang Weizhou instructed his subordinates to swap the military grain procurement list; on the twentieth day of the fifth month, he suppressed local disaster reports, causing relief to be delayed in three prefectures... Every entry recorded the time, amount, and person in charge, and there were even a few places with simple markings, like a flow chart for some underground money trail.

This wasn't ordinary corruption. This was the systematic hollowing out of the national foundation.

He closed the booklet and leaned against the stone wall, catching his breath. Cold air crawled up along the brick seams, pressing against his back and slipping into his clothes. He didn't move, his mind racing.

This web was even larger than he had imagined. A Vice Minister of Revenue would not dare to do this without someone higher up backing him.

But the question was, who was backing him? Did the Empress know? If she knew, why didn't she act? If she didn't know, then her eyes and ears were too ineffective.

Even more troublesome was that token with the character "Shadow".

He pulled that black iron token from the inside of his belt and turned it over to look at it in the faint light.

The distorted character "Shadow" was carved extremely deep, as if it had been gouged out with a Sharp Weapon.

This didn't look like something from within the imperial court's establishment; it looked more like a token from a Jianghu organization.

But for Jianghu people to interfere in court politics and even make high-ranking officials do their bidding, that was no ordinary power.

He suddenly recalled the scene during the fight just now. Those black-clad death soldiers moved in unison, coordinated perfectly, and did not panic in the face of battle.

These weren't thugs thrown together temporarily; they were elites trained for many years. Moreover, their first reaction wasn't to silence him, but to trigger the self-destruct mechanism, which showed they cared more about the evidence than the people.

These people came with the intention of covering up the truth.

And Vice Minister Zhang Weizhou was the key figure hiding behind the scenes. Catch him, and he could follow the vine to find the melon and uncover the entire line.

But how to catch him?

Break into his mansion directly? No. Vice Minister Zhang Weizhou was a second-rank official; his home was heavily guarded, and there were yamen runners patrolling outside. If he were abducted in the middle of the night, the entire capital would be in an uproar the next day.

Even if he could defeat all the guards, he would not escape the charge of assassinating a high-ranking official afterward. The Empress could take the opportunity to push him out to appease public opinion.

Appeal directly to the Empress? That wouldn't work either. This kind of matter couldn't be done openly. He only had this booklet in his hands right now; there were no corroborating witnesses, no signatures, no seals.

If he threw a piece of paper up there, with one sentence from Vice Minister Zhang Weizhou about "forgery and framing," he would instead become the clown.

He must obtain ironclad proof first.

He slowly worked out a path in his mind: Step one, check the accounts. The banks, transfer paths, and procurement lists mentioned in this booklet were all clues.

As long as he could find the original vouchers, even just one, he could nail down part of his crimes. Step two, find the people.

These transactions couldn't have all been handled personally by Vice Minister Zhang Weizhou; there must be minor officials or accountants below who handled them. Prying open one mouth would lead to more. Step three, wait for the right moment. Wait until the chain of evidence was long enough, then hand it over to the right person to act.

The Empress might be an option. But she wasn't a fool, and she wouldn't easily accept such a hot potato.

Unless this fire wouldn't burn her, but instead could help her clean out dissidents.

He twitched the corner of his mouth and whispered to himself: "Old fox against old fox, it depends on who loses their patience first."

Just as he was thinking, a muffled sound came from afar, as if a section of the stone passage had collapsed.

Dust fell from above, hitting his shoulders. He looked up and saw a few more cracks in the wall, and the wind in the air had changed direction, becoming a bit more urgent.

This place was about to collapse.

He carefully tucked the booklet into his inner pocket, put the token back, patted the dust off his clothes, and stood straight.

The fight just now had consumed a lot of energy, and his calves were still a bit sore, but he didn't stop. Now was not the time to rest.

He turned and walked toward the exit.

His footsteps crunched lightly on the gravel. The faint light ahead grew brighter, and he could already see traces of moss on the rock walls. He knew that walking out meant reaching the surface, the streets, and the crowds.

There, he had to pretend that nothing had happened, rendezvous with the four women, return to the base together, and then eat, drink, and chat as if nothing were the matter.

But he knew that some things were already different.

Walking to a place a dozen steps from the exit, he suddenly stopped.

He looked back at the dim secret passage. Here lay lies, and here also hid the truth. In the slaughter just now, many people died, but it was exchanged for this thin booklet.

Was it worth it? He couldn't say for sure. But he knew that if he didn't do it, he would hear the cries of the starving commoners before they died every time he slept at night.

He raised his hand to wipe his face, then habitually wiped his nose tip with his index and middle fingers.

"Since I can't hide from it, then I'll overturn this banquet table." He said softly.

After speaking, he stepped out.

Outside, the sky was not yet fully bright, gray and dim, and the streets were quiet, with only a few dog barks coming from the distance.

He stood at the alley entrance, took a deep breath of cold air, and felt his lungs clear up.

He straightened his collar, confirmed the booklet was still there, and then walked in the direction the four women had left.

On the way, he encountered an old man sweeping the street early, who was working with his head down and didn't look at him. When he passed by, the old man didn't look up either.

Very good. No one noticed him.

He walked neither fast nor slow, like an ordinary person returning home at night. The wind blew up his clothes, but his hand in his sleeve kept pressing against his chest, feeling the presence of the booklet through the fabric.

He knew that every step from here on had to be steady.

Vice Minister Zhang Weizhou was not someone to be trifled with; his cronies were spread throughout the Six Ministries, and his students and former subordinates were countless.

Acting rashly would only result in him being branded a madman making false accusations. But now, he had clues, a target, and a plan.

The rest was patience.

He turned through a narrow alley and saw a figure standing under the eaves ahead, wearing a red dress, standing on tiptoe and looking around.

It was Zhao Hongling.

She saw him and immediately waved: "Hey! You finally came! Did you pee for that long?"

He grinned: "Held it too long, couldn't get it out."

"Stop talking nonsense!" She glared, "Everyone is worried to death, and you're still dawdling!"

He walked over and patted her shoulder: "What's the rush? The matter has only just begun."

She frowned: "Your expression is wrong, what happened?"

He shook his head: "Nothing, just thought of some new clues."

"What clues?"

He didn't answer, just moved his hand away from his chest and smiled: "We'll talk later. Let's go back first, I'm hungry."

Zhao Hongling still wanted to ask, but he had already started walking forward, his back straight, his steps steady.

She was stunned for a moment, then followed.

The wind blew through the alley entrance, picking up a fallen leaf, which swirled and landed in the spot where the two had just been standing.

On the ground, the leaf lay quietly, its veins clear, like an unopened map.