Chapter 14: Watching with Detached Eyes

Chapter 14: A Cold, Detached Observation

In the afternoon, the scorching sun blazed overhead.

Qin Yuan returned to the capital, to the Left Historical Academy.

He had abandoned the Yellow Lotus Sect leader halfway through.

He had already fulfilled his promise to Zhu Hongdeng, the Grand Protector of the Yellow Lotus Sect, to save someone.

If the Yellow Lotus Sect leader were ever caught again, Qin Yuan would choose to watch with cold detachment.

After a moment, Qin Yuan was stunned.

Where was everyone?

The vast Left Historical Academy was completely deserted.

Surely they hadn’t all fled?

Where was the scholarly integrity of our dynasty?

After a long wait, Qin Yuan appeared at the home of the academy’s director.

People everywhere were in mourning attire.

He had already learned that seven days ago, the academy director—who had never appeared in any records before—had suddenly died.

The cause of death was somewhat absurd: due to extreme obesity, he had fallen into the latrine while using it and could not get out.

“Yuanda, you’re still alive!”

A young man approached, overjoyed.

“What do you mean, I’m still alive...” Qin Yuan smiled as he greeted him.

This young man was an editor named Lü Yunfei; his given and courtesy names were both Yunfei.

“Brother Yunfei.”

“Yuanda, after you disappeared, we reported it to the authorities, but there was no news of you. We all thought you were dead and even held a funeral for you,” Lü Yunfei said awkwardly.

Qin Yuan felt like hitting someone, yet was somewhat touched.

These people were poorer than one another, yet they were willing to spend money arranging a funeral for him.

After a while, led by Lü Yunfei, Qin Yuan met the chief editor, Shao Guilin, who had lost weight.

“Why has the chief editor become so thin?” Qin Yuan asked.

Lü Yunfei suddenly burst out laughing.

Qin Yuan looked at him blankly.

“Because he was scared to death by the director’s passing,” Lü Yunfei whispered.

The director had died only seven days ago.

Before Qin Yuan could even ponder further, Shao Guilin stood up and immediately fainted.

He must have gone several days without eating.

After regaining consciousness, Shao Guilin said, “You’ve returned just in time—return the money we spent on your funeral.”

That... was no fun at all.

Eventually, Qin Yuan returned half the money.

Everyone understood; they all knew Qin Yuan was a poor wretch.

What? Gulong and Jing Yao were wealthy?

So what did their wealth have to do with me, Qin Yuan?

“Let’s go pay respects to the director,” Shao Guilin said.

When Shao mentioned the director, Qin Yuan noticed his heartbeat quickened.

Shao Guilin was the chief editor; he was qualified to vie for the director’s position.

But only qualified.

His competitor had some backing—a brother named Wei Ting.

“Alright,” Qin Yuan said, about to go.

Suddenly, someone hurried in, shouting, “Yesterday, Marshal Wei launched a surprise attack that annihilated the Yellow Lotus Sect. On the way back, they captured the Yellow Lotus Sect leader who tried to rescue his subordinates.”

Everyone in the courtyard froze.

...

On the seventeenth day of the sixth month, twenty-seventh year of Chonghui, at dawn, heavy mist and dense clouds hung low.

The main street of the capital was lined with crowds.

All eyes were fixed on the empty city gate.

After a long wait, the sound of horse hooves echoed as Wei Ting led several hundred elite Right Army guards into the city.

Though few in number, each was either a master of external martial arts or internal cultivation.

But the common folk’s attention quickly shifted behind them.

Soon, steel-made prison carts appeared.

Unlike before, when the populace would hurl rotten eggs, vegetable leaves, stones, and shout curses with passion, the street fell into silence.

It was as if someone had muted everyone.

The people would always vote with their feet on who was good or bad.

If not for the Yellow Lotus Sect’s desperate resistance, the Haixi nations might have suffered much longer.

At the Quanjude Tavern nearby, Qin Yuan held a wine cup, watching the Yellow Lotus Sect leader locked in the cart, his scapula restrained, his body stained with blood.

Clearly, he had escaped, so why return to face death?

Another fool.

“The Yellow Lotus Sect has been wiped out, the Haixi nations repelled, and Great Hun is safe for the time being,” said Lü Yunfei, also holding a wine cup.

Safe? It was more likely on the brink of collapse.

Qin Yuan guessed that once the old witch dowager died, Wei Ting would rise to power.

At Wei Ting’s level, it was no longer a matter of desire.

Before him lay two paths: advance and live, or retreat and die.

Wei Ting was clearly no Yue Fei.

“I don’t understand one thing. The Yellow Lotus Sect leader is so formidable—how was he captured by Marshal Wei?”

Lü Yunfei pointed at the prisoner in the cart, puzzled.

The Yellow Lotus Sect leader had battled three top masters of the Haixi nations; even an eight-year-old in the capital knew that.

That was because Wei Ting was far stronger.

“Maybe he was poisoned,” Qin Yuan said casually.

“That’s the only possibility,” Lü Yunfei agreed wholeheartedly.

After the prison carts passed, the people below erupted with impotent rage.

“When they used him, they called him a righteous hero. Once done, they discarded him like a worn-out mule. Shameless.”

“Not just shameless—utterly disgraceful.”

“May Marshal Wei’s head suffer misfortune.”

Wei Ting was nicknamed “Wei Big Head” by the people because of his unusually large head.

“Do you think Chief Editor Shao can become director?” Lü Yunfei suddenly asked.

Qin Yuan glanced at his colleague, who clearly hoped for a revival, but said nothing.

Whether Shao became director made no difference to him.

“Yuanda, do you know why I like hanging out with you?”

Lü Yunfei smiled.

“Why?”

“Because you’re not interested in fame or fortune.”

Please omit the last word, Qin Yuan thought.

...

A few days later, on a damp morning after a night of rain, Qin Yuan, usually lazy, rose early.

After receiving documents from the Left Historical Academy, he rode his beloved little donkey to the deserted prison.

Today, he was to record the Yellow Lotus Sect leader’s case.

Suddenly, Qin Yuan felt less like a historian and more like a chronicler of famous sayings.

Uh, something seemed off—the guards had multiplied several times.

“Stop!”

“I’m a recorder from the Left Historical Academy, on official duty—”

Before Qin Yuan could finish, he was cut off.

“The governor has ordered no one may enter.”

Qin Yuan accidentally dropped a silver ingot.

“Your money fell,” someone said, restraining temptation, glaring at him. “But the silver ingot isn’t mine.”

Surprisingly, the Right Army guards had excellent discipline.

Qin Yuan was just about to leave when a plain figure appeared.

It was Wei Ting, Governor of Qingzhou—no, of Qing, You, and Yu’s three provinces.

His promotion had been decreed just yesterday.

“Let him in,” Wei Ting said calmly.

“Thank you, Governor,” Qin Yuan bowed in gratitude.

He took a few steps inside, then turned back to pick up the silver ingot from the ground, sharing a shy smile amid Wei Ting’s speechless gaze and the resentful eyes of the Right Army guards.

Then he followed the jailers into the filthy, chaotic prison.

Wei Ting returned to a carriage nearby.

Inside was a small table piled with meat—both raw and cooked—emitting a rich aroma.

He sat down and devoured the food ravenously, heedless of grease or choking, eating as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

(End of chapter)