Chapter 138 The Night of the Wang Family Purge: The Life and Death Line of the Second Pawn

The lamp in the Archives Room was relit.

The wick burned unevenly, dragging a flickering, undulating orange shadow across the wall.

Zhao Gang spread the slip of paper over the remains of the stone table that had broken into two halves. He pressed his palm against the corner of the paper and lowered his voice.

"Sun Qi's secret agent has been watching the Wang Family Outer Residence. The commotion inside hasn't stopped since half an hour ago."

Zhou Tie walked over, carrying half a broken spear, and lowered his head to scan the words on the paper.

"How many people are being purged?"

Zhao Gang raised a hand and spread his five fingers.

"At least five guards and three servants, all dragged into the dungeon."

His finger tapped on the paper.

"Zhang Erzhuang is first on the list."

Shen Yue leaned against the doorframe, her sword still at her waist; the brass buckle of the scabbard glinted in the lamplight.

"After Luo Qing was taken away from the courtroom, Wang Chongyuan knew there was a problem internally."

Lin Chen sat on the only stool that hadn't shattered, his black abyss blade laid horizontally across his lap. The bruise on the web of his right hand was particularly conspicuous under the light.

He didn't answer, merely staring at the paper for three breaths.

Zhou Tie grew anxious nearby.

"Inspector, the Wang family's interrogation methods are crueler than the yamen's. If Zhang Erzhuang is forced to open his mouth…"

Lin Chen raised his hand, cutting off the rest of Zhou Tie's words.

Light footsteps came from the courtyard entrance, followed by Sun Qi's signal: two short, one long.

Shen Yue stepped aside to clear the doorway. Sun Qi flashed in from the shadows of the corridor, clutching a narrow strip of paper. The handwriting on it was different from the previous ones—the strokes were crooked and the ink was faint, as if written in a hurry.

"Escort Officer Lu Qingshan sent this through the old canal secret passage."

Sun Qi handed the slip to Lin Chen.

Lin Chen unfolded it; there was only one line on the paper.

Zhang Tiezhu won't last three days; the Wang family's interrogation methods are harsher than the Criminal Chamber.

He placed the paper on his lap, palm resting against the scabbard of his black abyss blade, his thumb rubbing against the ridge of the crossguard twice.

No one spoke in the Archives Room for a moment.

Zhao Gang's scabbard bumped against the doorframe at his waist, the sound exceptionally clear in the silence.

When Lin Chen looked up, the darkness in his eyes was heavier than the night outside.

"We go tonight."

Zhou Tie's broken spear wobbled in his palm.

"Tonight?"

Zhao Gang took a half-step forward.

"Inspector, there are at least thirty guards at the Wang Family Outer Residence. With the purge causing such a commotion tonight, all their men must be on high alert."

Lin Chen didn't look at Zhao Gang, turning his gaze to Sun Qi instead.

"Did you bring the defense map of the Outer Residence?"

Sun Qi pulled a roll of old, multi-folded paper from his chest and spread it out on the remains of the table.

The paper showed the general outline of the Wang Family Outer Residence, the ink lines of varying thickness, with several places patched with charcoal pencil and densely annotated.

Sun Qi's finger tapped a spot in the northern corner.

"The dungeon is underground in the north corner of the Outer Residence. The entrance is here, with two iron gates and a passage of about eight steps in between."

His finger slid an inch to the side.

"There are three permanent guards: two at the Late Stage of Blood Refining, and one at the Tongmai Realm."

Zhou Tie leaned in to stare at the map, muttering under his breath.

"A Tongmai Realm expert guarding the dungeon door—the Wang family really thinks highly of Zhang Erzhuang."

Sun Qi continued, lowering his voice further.

"The commotion tonight is big, so the guards in the Outer Residence are rotating, and the intervals for the northern corner patrols are wider than usual. My secret agent has counted: every stick of incense time, there is a gap of less than half a cup of tea at the base of the north wall."

Lin Chen's fingertips tapped twice on the defense map, the points landing one after the other: one at the main gate of the Outer Residence, and one next to the mark for the old drainage outlet at the north wall.

"Two routes."

Zhao Gang's breathing grew heavier.

Lin Chen spoke steadily, every word landing firmly on the table.

"The overt route: Zhao Gang, take ten men, wear the Patrol Division uniforms, carry the Patrol Division lanterns, and go straight to the main gate of the Wang Family Outer Residence."

Zhao Gang paused for a beat.

"What for at the main gate?"

Lin Chen looked at him.

"Night patrol."

Zhao Gang ground his teeth, then suddenly grinned.

"I understand. Make a scene at the gate to draw their men to the front."

Lin Chen nodded, turning his gaze to Zhou Tie and Shen Yue.

"The covert route: I will take you two in through the old drainage canal at the north wall, straight to the dungeon."

Shen Yue moved her finger from the brass buckle of her scabbard and placed it on the hilt.

"Is the canal wide enough for two people to walk side by side?"

Sun Qi shook his head.

"Not enough. You can only go single file; even at the widest point, you can only turn sideways to let someone pass."

Zhou Tie weighed the broken spear in his hand, then set it on the floor.

"Can't take the spear in, it's too long."

He bent down and drew a short blade from his boot; the edge shimmered with a cold, cyan hue in the lamplight.

"I'll use this."

Lin Chen stood up and hung the black abyss blade back at his waist; the scabbard hit the edge of the stool with a dull thud.

"Sun Qi, stay at the canal entrance to provide support. As soon as the commotion starts on Zhao Gang's side, we go in. From entering the canal to reaching the dungeon, keep it within half a stick of incense time."

Zhao Gang gripped the hilt of his sword at his waist.

"Half a stick of incense?"

Lin Chen looked at him.

"How long can you hold out at the gate?"

Zhao Gang lifted his chin two inches.

"If those bastards from the Wang family don't make a move, I can cause trouble from the hour of the rat until dawn."

"What if they do?"

Zhao Gang pushed his sword half an inch out of the scabbard and pushed it back, his mouth set tight.

"Even if they do, I can hold out until you bring him out."

Lin Chen didn't say anything more and turned to walk toward the courtyard entrance.

After two steps, he stopped and looked back at Sun Qi, who was still squatting on the ground.

"When was the last time you went through that drainage canal at the north wall?"

Sun Qi thought for a moment.

"Three days ago. That afternoon, I followed the vegetable delivery cart around to the outside of the north wall and ventured twenty steps into the canal from the entrance. The water in the canal only reached my ankles, and the iron grate still had the gap cut last time; no one had repaired it."

Lin Chen went over these numbers in his mind and stepped out of the courtyard.

The night was so thick that the roof ridges across from the wall were invisible. The wind blew from the north of the city, carrying a smell of burnt wood—the lingering scent from the burning of Tingfeng Pavilion, which hadn't dissipated even now.

Wang Family Outer Residence.

The dungeon was in a stone chamber two zhang deep underground. The four walls were chiseled out of a single piece of stone, with water seeping through the cracks, and the air was fishy and acrid.

An oil lamp hung on an iron hook on the side of a stone pillar. The wick was half-gone, and the flame flickered unsteadily.

Zhang Erzhuang was locked to the stone pillar by two iron chains as thick as thumbs, his hands bound behind his back, his spine pressed against the rough stone surface. The front of his clothes was soaked through with blood, making it impossible to tell if it had flowed from the corner of his mouth or seeped from the wounds on his chest.

His face was swollen, his left eye socket bruised black, and there was a gash on his cheekbone scraped by iron, with the flesh turned outward, blood beads trailing down his jawline into the hollow of his collarbone.

Second Young Master Wang Pei stood three steps in front of him, holding a cup of tea; the steam from the tea rose in a wisp of white mist in the damp, cold air of the dungeon.

He took a sip of tea, handed the cup to the guard beside him, and let his gaze fall on Zhang Erzhuang's face, his mouth curling with the casual indifference of someone looking at an old object.

"Tiezhu, that name doesn't sound very good. The Wang family changed it to Zhang Erzhuang for you—how respectable."

Zhang Erzhuang's lips were split in two places, blood and saliva mixed together, smeared across his chin.

He didn't make a sound.

Second Young Master Wang Pei rolled up his cuffs two inches and crouched down, level with his gaze.

"I'm asking you for the third time: did someone hand that Inspector outside something from the Wang family?"

Zhang Erzhuang's throat moved, his mouth opened slightly, and he spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm onto Second Young Master Wang Pei's boot.

Second Young Master Wang Pei looked down at the bloody phlegm on the toe of his boot, and the casual indifference on his face vanished completely.

He stood up, took two steps back, and rubbed his blood-stained boot against the floor tiles.

"Bring the item over."

The guard on the left took a pair of iron tongs from a wooden box in the corner; the head of the tongs had been burned in a charcoal brazier, its surface glowing dark red, steam rising from the iron, releasing a smell of burnt iron in the damp dungeon.

Second Young Master Wang Pei took the iron tongs, weighed them in his hand, and let his gaze fall back onto Zhang Erzhuang.

"You've guarded the Outer Residence for seven years, and the Wang family hasn't mistreated you for a single day."

Zhang Erzhuang's eyeballs rolled within his swollen eye sockets, staring at the iron tongs, his pupils reflecting the dark red light.

He squeezed a word out of his throat.

"Pah."

Second Young Master Wang Pei pushed the iron tongs forward an inch, the head of the tongs less than two fingers wide from Zhang Erzhuang's left shoulder, the heat baking that patch of skin until it turned flushed.

"Zhang Erzhuang, you are a smart man. Among the thirty guards in the Outer Residence, you rank first—not because your fists are hard, but because your head is clear."

He pushed it another half-inch forward.

"Now use that clear head of yours and think: is it more painful to talk, or more painful not to?"

Zhang Erzhuang bit his teeth together, so tight that his left molar made a crisp sound, as if a corner had chipped off.

The iron tongs touched his shoulder. The fabric charred first, curling up a wisp of blue smoke, followed by the fine, sizzling sound of flesh being burned.

Zhang Erzhuang's body tensed into an arch within the chains, his back leaving the stone pillar and slamming back into it, the chains clattering loudly, the tendons on his neck strained to the point of almost bursting through the skin.

He didn't scream.

The only sound that leaked from his throat was a muffled grunt, cut short by his clenched teeth before it could even form.

Second Young Master Wang Pei withdrew the iron tongs, a small piece of charred cloth and skin sticking to the head.

He looked at the piece, tossed it into the water basin nearby; the tongs made a sharp sound as they entered the water.

"The first spot."

He looked up at Zhang Erzhuang.

"There are two more, take your time to think."

Outside the dungeon, behind the iron gate at the end of the passage, came the sound of light footsteps.

So light that the two guards standing by the gate didn't notice.

The other end of the corridor connected to an old drainage channel so narrow that only one person could pass through it sideways, the moss on the channel walls shimmering with a cold, eerie watery light in the darkness.

A hand reached out from the shadows of the channel entrance, five fingers pressing against the brick wall at the corner of the corridor.

The fingers were slender, with calluses between the knuckles, and a purplish bruise on the inside of the web of the hand.

Lin Chen's voice was so low it was almost a whisper, audible only to Zhou Tie and Shen Yue, who were two steps behind him.

"How many people are behind the iron door?"

Shen Yue poked half her head out from beside his shoulder and counted for two breaths in the darkness.

"Two. One on the left, one on the right. They're standing with their backs against the wall, hands resting on their sword hilts, legs unbent—they aren't standing very alertly."

Zhou Tie flipped his short blade in his palm, edge facing downward.

"I'll do it."

Lin Chen shook his head, withdrew his hand from the brick wall, and placed it on the hilt of his black abyss blade.

"Shen Yue, you go first. Subdue the one on the left, and don't make a sound."

Shen Yue's figure slid out from beside his shoulder, her footsteps landing on the water at the bottom of the channel without even causing a ripple.

Three breaths later, the throat of the guard on the left was seized from behind by a hand, the back of a blade pressed against his carotid artery, and he was dragged into the shadows of the corner, unable to utter a single sound from start to finish.

The guard on the right sensed something was wrong and reached for his sword hilt, but before he could draw it even half an inch, Zhou Tie's short blade was already pressed against his Adam's apple.

"Make a sound and you die."

Zhou Tie's lips were close to the man's ear, his breath cold.

The guard's knees went weak, his hand released the sword hilt, and Zhou Tie shoved him to the ground, bound his hands and feet with his belt, and stuffed a strip of cloth torn from his own sleeve into his mouth.

Lin Chen walked out from the corner, his gaze fixed on the iron door ahead.

The iron door was two fingers thick, bolted from the inside, and a sliver of dim, yellowish light leaked through the gap.

The light was mixed with the smell of scorched flesh.

Lin Chen's fingers tightened on the hilt of the black abyss blade, his knuckles making a soft cracking sound.

Second Young Master Wang Pei's voice came from behind the door, still clearly audible through the iron.

"The second spot—have you thought it over?"

Lin Chen channeled True Qi into his right arm and slammed his palm against the position of the bolt.

The Golden Core True Qi penetrated the iron door, blasting the bolt out of its slot, where it hit the dungeon stone wall and bounced twice.

The iron door swung wide open.

The lamplight poured out of the dungeon, illuminating half of Lin Chen's face.

He stood at the doorway, the black abyss blade still sheathed, his right hand resting on the hilt. Golden Core True Qi seeped from the soles of his feet, spreading an invisible pressure across the dungeon's stone tiles.

Second Young Master Wang Pei was still holding a second pair of red-hot iron tongs. The moment he turned and saw Lin Chen, the tongs slipped from his fingers, hit the floor tiles, bounced up half an inch, and rolled to the base of the wall.

The knees of the two guards beside him buckled slightly under that pressure. They gripped their sword hilts, but couldn't draw them; the muscles in their arms were trembling.

Lin Chen did not look at Second Young Master Wang Pei.

His gaze passed over Second Young Master Wang Pei's shoulder and landed on the person chained to the stone pillar.

There were two charred burn marks on Zhang Erzhuang's shoulders, the flesh curled back, the seeping blood and scabs mixed together, shimmering with a ghastly light under the lamplight.

Lin Chen took out the copper button from his bosom.

The copper button was only the size of a fingernail, its pattern worn blurred by time, but in the lamplight, one could still barely make out the outline of a small flower.

He walked past Second Young Master Wang Pei, past the two guards, and went straight to the stone pillar, placing the copper button beside Zhang Erzhuang's hand, which was locked by an iron ring.

The copper button made a soft sound when it touched the iron chain.

Zhang Erzhuang's eyes turned from the direction where the tongs had fallen. He first saw a pair of boots, then the dark, heavy blade at the waist, and finally, the copper button beside his palm.

His breathing hitched.

Lin Chen crouched down, bringing his eyes level with his.

"Xiaoyan's jacket is blue, with two buttons sewn on the right cuff."

Zhang Erzhuang's mouth opened, fresh blood seeping from the cracks.

Lin Chen whispered the last half of the sentence into his ear.

"Because she always wipes her tears with her right hand."

At that moment, Zhang Erzhuang's chains made the loudest sound in the dungeon.

He jolted up from the stone pillar, the chains stretched to their limit, the iron ring embedding itself into the flesh of his wrists, blood seeping out from under the skin, but his eyes were wide, ten times larger than when he was being burned.

Those bloodshot eyes stared at Lin Chen's face, the outline of the copper button reflected in his pupils. His lips trembled five or six times before he could wring a voice out from the depths of his throat.

"How do you have this?"

Lin Chen looked at him.

"Escort Officer Lu Qingshan sent me."

Zhang Erzhuang's mouth closed and opened, opened and closed. His entire body, from his shoulders to his fingertips, was trembling, the chains shaking along with him, clattering and causing the entire dungeon to vibrate.

Second Young Master Wang Pei finally snapped back to reality, took two steps back, and raised his voice.

"Lin Chen, you have trespassed into the Wang Family's private residence! My Wang Family..."

His words were cut off halfway.

Zhou Tie's short blade pressed against him from behind, the edge ice-cold, resting on the thinnest skin just below his Adam's apple.

"Young Master Wang."

Zhou Tie's lips barely moved, his voice squeezed through his teeth.

"The person you have locked in your dungeon is a witness related to a Patrol Division case. You have set up a private torture chamber and are torturing civilians."

He pushed the short blade forward half a fraction, the edge pressing a white mark into the skin.

"According to the great qian code, we can make an arrest on the spot."

Second Young Master Wang Pei's throat bobbed under the blade, the back of the knife pressing a shallow groove into that layer of skin, the tendons on his neck pulsing one by one.

His two guards wanted to move, but Shen Yue was already standing between them, her left-hand blade held horizontally across one man's chest, her right foot pinning the other man's sword scabbard that had fallen to the ground.

"Don't move."

Shen Yue's voice was icy.

Lin Chen unhooked a short rod shaped like an iron key from his waist and inserted it into the keyhole of the iron ring on Zhang Erzhuang's wrist. He channeled True Qi into it, causing two brass beads in the lock cylinder to burst, and the iron ring sprang open with a click.

Zhang Erzhuang's hands hung down from behind the stone pillar. The two circles of deep purple welts on his wrists were even deeper than Tao Donger's; the skin was abraded in several places, revealing the tender, pink flesh beneath.

Lin Chen hoisted him up from the ground.

Zhang Erzhuang's legs couldn't support him, his knees buckling outward. Lin Chen passed his arm under his armpit and caught his full weight.

Zhang Erzhuang's hand fumbled to reach the copper button beside his palm, his fingers trembling violently, and it took two attempts to grasp it.

After grabbing it, he pressed the copper button against his chest so hard his knuckles turned white.

His other hand clutched tightly onto Lin Chen's sleeve.

It was the exact same posture as Tao Donger.

The exact same strength.

As if afraid that if he let go, he would be thrown back onto those chains.

Second Young Master Wang Pei was cornered by Zhou Tie and Shen Yue, his complexion turning from iron-blue to black. His lips moved, but the words in his throat were suppressed by the short blade, and he couldn't squeeze out a single sound.

Lin Chen supported Zhang Erzhuang as they walked toward the iron door. When he passed by Second Young Master Wang Pei, his footsteps paused for a beat.

He didn't turn his head, only sweeping a glance at Second Young Master Wang Pei's face with his peripheral vision.

"Young Master Wang, keep those red-hot iron tongs."

His voice bounced around the dungeon walls, echoing for a long time.

"You'll find a use for them later."

Second Young Master Wang Pei's pupils shrank into two black dots when those words fell. The muscles at the corners of his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to say something, or as if something had seized his vocal cords.

Zhou Tie withdrew the short blade from his throat, stepped back, stared at him coldly for three breaths, then turned to follow Lin Chen.

Shen Yue was the last to exit the dungeon, kicking the two guards' swords into a puddle in the corner before the iron door slammed shut behind her.

The water in the old drainage channel was colder than when they had come, the freezing chill rising from the soles of their boots, submerging their ankles.

Zhang Erzhuang was supported as he moved forward, stumbling with every step. The two burn marks on his shoulders throbbed with pain in the damp air, causing him to tremble uncontrollably, his teeth chattering.

Yet, he never loosened his grip on the hand holding the copper button.

A sliver of moonlight shone through at the end of the channel. Sun Qi was crouching by the exit, and when he saw Lin Chen's figure emerge from the darkness, he let out a long breath.

"Things have escalated on Zhao Gang's side. A dozen people have come out of the Wang Family's front gate, and they've all headed toward the front."

Lin Chen climbed out of the channel and handed Zhang Erzhuang to Sun Qi.

The moonlight shone on Zhang Erzhuang's face, blood scabs and sweat mixed together, reflecting a face where the features were almost indistinguishable.

But those eyes were terrifyingly bright.

His hand, clutching the copper button, suddenly reached out and grabbed Lin Chen's wrist.

"Inspector Lin."

His throat was clogged with blood and phlegm, every word scraped out from the very bottom of his throat.

Lin Chen looked down at him.

Zhang Erzhuang's lips tore open at the deepest crack, blood gushing from the fissure. He didn't bother to wipe it, enunciating every word with sharp clarity.

"Xiaoyan is not dead."

Lin Chen stopped in his tracks.

Zhang Erzhuang's fingers embedded themselves into the flesh beside his wrist bone, the force so great it felt as if it would crush the bone.

"She is locked in a separate courtyard behind the Wang Family's back mountain, together with three other children."

His eyes were full of bloodshot veins, his pupils dilated to the maximum in the moonlight.

"The Wang Family is using them... to cultivate blood."