Volume One: The Emperor’s Sword Chapter 15: Becoming a Disciple
In front of the cell, Eunuch Nan patted the sturdy iron bars and burst into laughter, his delight unconcealed.
“We meet again! Ha! I wonder if the Marquis of Yun has ever heard the saying, ‘When the tiger descends into the plains, even dogs dare to bite.’”
Yun Que’s face showed a hint of surprise. “It’s only been a few days, and Eunuch Nan has finally achieved enlightenment and realized he’s a dog.”
“Who says I’m a dog! I am an imperial herald!” Eunuch Nan’s large face turned a shade of purple from anger.
“You just said it yourself—‘when the tiger descends into the plains, even dogs bite.’ You called yourself a dog!” Zhou Yuanliang, standing by, burst out laughing.
“Scoundrel! Are you looking to die as well?”
Eunuch Nan was about to order his men to teach them a lesson, but suddenly recognized Zhou Yuanliang. With a snort of contempt, he lost interest.
This man was like a slab of stubborn meat—no one in the Imperial City with any status wanted to cross Zhou Yuanliang. It wasn’t fear; it was pure loathing and disdain, the way one would recoil from a toad—just disgust, nothing more.
In terms of reputation, the Imperial City’s foremost scoundrel and the Marquis of Coldwater were neck and neck—both infamous to the extreme.
“I will never forget the hospitality you showed me, Marquis Yun,” Eunuch Nan said in a shrill, sinister voice. “Tonight, you’ll have a feast as well. This is called returning the favor in kind! Bring a basket of dung from the latrine!”
Two men took the order and headed toward the privy. But after just a few steps, the cell door beside them swung open. The pair crashed into it, seeing stars, and slumped unconscious to the ground.
From behind the door, Zhou Yuanliang swaggered out with a set of keys dangling from his hand, his gait exuding defiance.
“Marquis Yun, care for a bit of fresh air? Stretch your legs?” Zhou Yuanliang grinned, eyeing Eunuch Nan up and down, making the man uneasy.
“I was just thinking how dull it was in here.” Yun Que smiled broadly.
Before Eunuch Nan could protest, Zhou Yuanliang had already unlocked Yun Que’s cell.
“Prison break! Guards! Seize them!” Eunuch Nan shouted, but was quickly drowned out by the sounds of groaning and wailing.
Moments later, all the guards Eunuch Nan had brought were lying on the ground, thoroughly beaten. With Yun Que’s skills, he didn’t even need his flying sword. As for Zhou Yuanliang, despite his dissipated appearance, his martial prowess was impressive. There was a subtle flow of spiritual energy in his movements, clearly revealing cultivation.
From afar, the approaching jailers, upon seeing Zhou Yuanliang and Yun Que, promptly turned on their heels, pretending to see nothing. After all, Zhou Yuanliang could even get the keys to the imperial prison—he was a regular here and not someone to offend.
“You’re rebelling! Just wait until I report to His Majesty—he’ll punish you both—” Eunuch Nan’s tirade was cut short as Yun Que kicked him across the cell, smashing him into the wall. His face was bruised and swollen, and he was left speechless.
“He’s a favorite of the emperor’s. What do you plan to do with him?” Zhou Yuanliang lounged against the cell door, watching the spectacle.
“Why, we’ll treat him to another fine meal, of course.” Yun Que grinned. “Eunuch Nan has a rather unique palate—he’s fond of foul flavors.”
“No problem! Leave it to me!” Zhou Yuanliang rolled up his sleeves and headed for the latrine.
“But someone of Eunuch Nan’s rank deserves something hot and fresh.” Yun Que said, loosening his belt.
Zhou Yuanliang paused, then, suddenly enlightened, gave a thumbs up and followed suit.
Before long, the imperial prison echoed with Eunuch Nan’s agonized howls, which soon turned muffled, as though his throat had been blocked.
At midnight, two figures approached the prison gates. Zhou Yuanliang, as if he owned the place, produced the keys and swung open the heavy doors. Meanwhile, the guards leaned back against the walls or sprawled across their desks, snoring loudly in a deliberate chorus of feigned sleep.
With a creak, the doors opened. Before leaving, Zhou Yuanliang chuckled, “Banknotes are becoming worthless these days—five hundred taels gone in one wipe.”
The snores grew louder.
After all, with the son of the Grand Secretary as the culprit and a hefty bribe in their pockets, the blame could all be shifted onto the city’s most notorious scoundrel.
With a proud lift of his brow, Zhou Yuanliang showed off his resourcefulness to Yun Que.
But as he stepped through the gate, he abruptly froze.
Outside, a figure stood clad in heavy armor—the very general who had arrested Yun Que that morning.
Zhou Yuanliang’s grin faltered, and he quietly withdrew his outstretched foot.
“Damn it… Why did it have to be his shift? That’s Feng Yaojin, commander of the city guard—Foundation Establishment stage. Best of luck.” Zhou Yuanliang muttered, ready to slink back into his cell, the warning clear: don’t do anything reckless.
Yun Que’s brow furrowed slightly.
It was no surprise for the royal family to employ cultivators. The imperial prison was an important place; there would surely be experts on guard.
Yet at dawn, Sword Palace registration would begin—he could not remain imprisoned. He had to leave tonight.
He was preparing to fight his way out when the armored general rubbed his eyes, confused.
“What a damnable night! The wind’s so strong it blinded me. No one here—let’s make our rounds elsewhere!”
With that, the general and his men strode off.
Yun Que and Zhou Yuanliang exchanged bewildered glances. Why had a Foundation Establishment general failed to see two living, breathing men?
Safely out of sight, Feng Yaojin squeezed the bulging pouch of silver hidden in his robes and sighed. “Alas, I never wanted to bend the law, but the Mu family’s bribe was just too generous…”
Having escaped without incident, Zhou Yuanliang’s smugness returned tenfold.
“I’ve always despised that Eunuch Nan—tonight was a delight!”
“Aren’t you afraid of him seeking revenge?”
“What’s there to fear? At dawn, I’ll be inside Sword Palace. Even the emperor wouldn’t dare confront them over a dead eunuch.”
Yun Que shot him a surprised look.
So Zhou Yuanliang was a disciple of Sword Palace after all. No wonder he was bold enough to conspire against Eunuch Nan—he’d always had an escape route planned.
“What landed you in prison, anyway?”
“Oh, it was nothing—just a bit of groping.”
“Whose posterior did you grope?”
“The princess’s.”
Zhou Yuanliang managed a sheepish grin, then sighed mournfully. “Ah, if I’d known she was royalty, I’d have taken my time—one squeeze wasn’t worth it!”
Yun Que glanced sidelong at his companion.
The title of First Scoundrel hardly did him justice—First Rascal would suit him better.
“Tell me, has your esteemed father died of rage yet?”
“My father’s a Confucian scholar. He cultivates noble spirit—he won’t die so easily.” Zhou Yuanliang snickered. “By the way, what did you use to wipe earlier? Wasn’t that a yellow silk cloth? Looked quite fancy.”
“It was an imperial edict.”
“An edict… you wiped yourself with an imperial edict!”
Zhou Yuanliang bowed solemnly, cupping his fists in admiration. “There are always higher mountains—tonight, I admit defeat!”
Yun Que chuckled, waving a hand as if to say it was nothing.
As they spoke, the two of them reached a deserted avenue.
“It’s still some time until dawn. How about a late-night snack?” Zhou Yuanliang suggested.
Yun Que’s stomach was rumbling, so he gladly agreed.
They hadn’t gone far when a tall, slender woman appeared in the empty street ahead.
She stood with her back to them, a strange, heavy sword planted at her side.
“Are you Yun Que?” Her voice was gentle, yet carried a subtle authority.
Yun Que instantly sensed danger, especially from that sword—it radiated an invisible pressure.
“That’s me,” Yun Que replied, his right hand already resting on his storage pouch, ready to draw his sword.
He expected an assassin’s ambush, but the tall woman suddenly turned, her gaze piercing, and spoke words no one could have anticipated.
“Become my disciple.”