Chapter Thirty: The Trial (Part One)

“If you truly wish to learn martial arts, cousin, I have nothing to object to. But if not, well, hehe…” Faced with Helan Minzhi’s eager gaze, Li Xian did not immediately reveal the solution but instead laughed it off, deliberately keeping him in suspense.

“Tsk, Xiao Qi, are you trying to see your elder brother make a fool of himself? Why bother with all these tricks? Just say it, don’t beat around the bush. As long as it gets me out of this wretched duty, whatever you want, you have only to ask.” The moment Helan Minzhi sensed he had a chance, he slapped his chest and swore a solemn promise.

“Cousin, I’ve heard that someone at the Hongwen Academy has submitted a petition, claiming that ‘The Annals of Thirty Kingdoms’ compiled by Xiao Fang and others from Former Liang is riddled with errors and ought to be rewritten. The matter is as yet unsettled; why not seek this position for yourself?” Li Xian laughed, stepped closer, and lowered his voice in a whisper.

“Hongwen Academy? ‘The Annals of Thirty Kingdoms’? Ah-ha, what a splendid idea! If it works, I’ll host a banquet for you, Xiao Qi, and we’ll drink till we’re drunk!” At first, Helan Minzhi was puzzled, but soon his face lit up with wild delight. He laughed heartily, clapped Li Xian on the shoulder, then, without waiting for Li Xian’s response, pursed his lips and gave a whistle. A white horse shot out from behind the screen wall; Helan Minzhi dashed forward, seized the reins, and vaulted nimbly onto the saddle. With a carefree wave to Li Xian, he galloped off in a flash.

How unlucky, what ill fortune—to step out and run into such a pile of dog muck! Watching Helan Minzhi leave without so much as a proper farewell, Li Xian cursed inwardly but said nothing more. Head down, he walked to the carriage already waiting by the screen wall, waved his hand, and ordered, “To the Southern Parade Ground.” With those words, he bent over and slipped into the carriage, paying his followers no mind.

This was a dangerous sign—a harbinger of further trouble ahead! Though he had successfully sent Helan Minzhi off, Li Xian did not feel relieved; instead, his expression grew grim. He knew full well that Helan Minzhi was nothing more than an unruly wastrel, capable only of sowing chaos but never accomplishing anything worthwhile. What truly worried him was Wu Meiniang’s interest; recalling her ruthless methods, Li Xian could hardly feel at ease. Yet once the arrow is loosed, there’s no turning back. For the sake of a future free from constraint, however difficult things might be now, Li Xian could only grit his teeth and bear it.

Encountering someone like Helan Minzhi, the Crown Prince would surely have his hands full—who knows if history might repeat itself. The struggle against Wu Meiniang would be long and arduous; though Li Xian took it seriously, he was not afraid. After a brief consideration, he set it aside, shifting his thoughts to Helan Minzhi’s forthcoming “old affair” at the Hongwen Academy. In his previous life, Helan Minzhi had indeed served there—a branch of the Eastern Palace—presiding over the compilation of ‘The Annals of Thirty Kingdoms.’ From this perspective, Li Xian had not altered the course of history much, merely advanced it by a year.

In Li Xian’s view, Helan Minzhi’s quest for a post at the Hongwen Academy was unlikely to meet resistance. The reason was simple: compiling history was a noble endeavor, far more prestigious than learning martial arts. Such a task, which could leave one’s name in the annals, would be supported wholeheartedly by both the Lady of Korea and the Lady of Wei. Whichever of them spoke on his behalf, the Emperor would not refuse, and even Wu Meiniang, if she had other designs, could hardly oppose it openly. Thus, Li Xian had managed to send the stinking dog that was Helan Minzhi straight to the Eastern Palace. He wondered how the gentle and scholarly Li Hong would cope with the frivolous and unruly Helan Minzhi—at the thought, Li Xian’s lips curled into a mocking smile.

The Southern Parade Ground, as its name suggested, lay on the south side of the Imperial City, serving as a training arena. Though called a parade ground, it was not particularly large—barely thirty acres, too small for a proper military review. But it sufficed as the assembly point for the Sixteen Guards of the Southern Bureau. Of course, should all the guards gather at once, it would still be inadequate. Fortunately, the various units seldom interfered with each other, each attending to its own duties. Today, it was the Left Vanguard Guard’s turn to drill; the ground was theirs. From afar, Li Xian could already hear the shouts and commands echoing from within, making his heart itch with anticipation—he longed to witness the martial prowess of the assembled officers.

“Halt! This is a military zone—no unauthorized entry!”

The more urgent the matter, the more likely things were to go awry. Indeed, as Li Xian and his party neared the gate, a sharp shout suddenly rang out, stopping the carriage in its tracks.

“Mind your manners! His Highness, the Prince of Zhou, arrives! Stand aside!” Gao Miao, who followed beside the carriage, feared disturbing Li Xian and, knowing they had come by imperial command, would not let a few patrolling sentries make him lose face. He strode forward and barked his orders without hesitation.

Damn it, this is bad! Though Li Xian sat upright in the carriage, his ears caught everything outside. Hearing Gao Miao’s blustering, his heart sank; he couldn’t wait for the carriage to stop and quickly bent down, lifting the curtain and jumping out. His movements were swift, but alas, he was still too late.

“Insolence! How dare you disrupt military protocol—seize him!” As Li Xian had anticipated, it was better if Gao Miao didn’t put on airs. His shouting immediately enraged the lead officer, who glared and drew his sword. With a single command, more than a dozen guards unsheathed their blades, murderous intent rising. Poor Gao Miao, merely a minor eunuch with little experience, was instantly terrified, his face blanching as he stumbled backwards.

“What are you doing? What is the meaning of this? Do not alarm His Highness, the Prince of Zhou, you—you…” Though his legs were shaking, Gao Miao refused to yield, stammering as he invoked his master’s name to try and intimidate them.

Foolish boy, what are you playing at? Digging a pit for me to fall into, damn it! Seeing Gao Miao stubbornly holding out, Li Xian inwardly lamented. The reason was simple: the Left Vanguard Guard’s general was Su Dingfang, a veteran commander. The title “Prince of Zhou” carried weight elsewhere, but meant nothing before Old Su. Clearly, these patrolmen were acting under his orders, intent on giving Li Xian a taste of humiliation. Even if Li Xian followed proper protocol, he would still face obstacles, let alone with Gao Miao’s high-handed antics—was this not handing himself over on a platter?

“Wait a moment.” Despite his annoyance with Gao Miao’s rashness, Li Xian could not let him suffer alone. He hurried forward, shielding Gao Miao behind him, and bowed to the officer, smiling politely. “Greetings, General. I, Li Xian, come by imperial command and have urgent business with General Su. I ask you to grant me passage.”

“Hmph, imperial command? Where is your edict?” Seeing Li Xian himself step forward, the officer no longer threatened him with a blade, but still showed no courtesy. He extended his hand, bluntly demanding to see the imperial decree.

The edict did exist; it had been publicly announced half a month ago and was archived in the Emperor’s secret cabinet. Naturally, Li Xian had no copy on him, and even the recent orders were mere verbal instructions, with no written proof. Where could Li Xian possibly produce such an edict? Was he to return to the palace and ask the Emperor for another? Not only would the Emperor likely refuse, but even if he agreed, it would take too long—by the time Li Xian obtained the decree, the parade ground exercises would surely be over.

“General, I reported to His Majesty days ago and the edict has already been proclaimed. I come with the Emperor’s verbal instructions, but I do not have a written decree. If you would be so kind, please inform General Su that I am here to pay my respects and request an audience. Would that be agreeable?” Knowing the officer was intentionally making things difficult, Li Xian could only respond with patience and humility, finally forgoing mention of the edict and simply requesting to see Old Su.

“So, Your Highness merely wishes to visit General Su—is that correct? Did I hear you right?” There is a saying: one does not strike a smiling man. Li Xian had lowered his posture so far that the officer could not maintain his cold demeanor. He paused, then spoke deliberately, word by word.

“Yes, precisely so. I ask you to grant me passage.” Under the eaves, one must bow—Li Xian smiled broadly and nodded in response.

“In that case, I will go and make the report. Whether it succeeds depends on General Su’s availability. Please wait here.” The officer glanced at Li Xian, saluted with proper military decorum, and strode through the gate. The other guards remained at attention, blades in hand, closely monitoring Li Xian’s group, showing no signs of relaxing.

Oh, Grand Historian Li, you’ve truly landed me in a fix—of all people to recommend, you chose a subordinate of Old Su. Are you trying to make me look foolish? Well, I suppose there’s more drama to come; today is unlikely to go smoothly for me. Watching the officer disappear inside and not return for a long while, Li Xian could only silently lament. He realized that his quest to find a master would be fraught with obstacles, and if things went badly, he might become the laughingstock of the capital. But having come this far, he could not simply turn back. Resigned, he waited patiently. As time dragged on, his anxiety grew, the torment akin to ants scurrying on a hot pan…