Chapter 121: The Night Between Fingers
Liang Xiaoxiao was dead, and the accusations he made before his death naturally carried great weight. However, the other witness to the incident at Zhou Garden—Zhuang Huanyu—aside from giving an extremely brief account of the situation, remained silent most of the time. Thus, many details in the deceased’s story were left unaddressed. Coupled with the fact that the person Liang Xiaoxiao accused was no ordinary individual, the Zhou Garden incident was inevitably dragged into a quagmire, with no progress made even after several dozen days.
Chen Changsheng’s identity was extremely special. The big shots in the Li Palace would certainly keep a close eye on this matter. During the Grand Examination, people had already noticed that Zheshe had a fairly good relationship with the National Academy. Moreover, this wolf clan youth had earned countless military merits on the northern snow plains and was highly regarded by certain divine generals of the Great Zhou military. How this matter would ultimately unfold, in many people’s view, still depended on Her Holiness the Empress’s decision. Thus, Zhou Garden became the focal point of countless gazes, because this was Zhou Tong’s residence. Her Holiness the Empress’s will had always been concretely manifested through this most insane and cruel mad dog. It was also because, after the court took Zheshe away from the Li Palace, he had been imprisoned here.
Few people knew of the legendary Zhou Prison—that great jail that had struck fear into countless ministers and generals. It was actually connected to Zhou Tong’s residence, front and back, separated by merely a dozen zhang and two flimsy doors. “Beautiful scenes and fine days, what a pity the sky,” was how people described Zhou Tong’s residence and Zhou Prison. The former boasted endless seasonal beauty, while the latter was a place of helplessness, where one could not see the blue sky.
A black rhinoceros pulled a heavy iron carriage, passing through the stone archway of Zhou Garden and entering the gloomy buildings ahead.
Even though it was this close, Zhou Tong still habitually rode in the carriage.
Only in this iron carriage, aside from when he was before Her Holiness the Empress, did he feel safe.
The black rhinoceros carriage arrived before the underground entrance to the prison. With a creaking sound, the carriage door slowly opened.
Zhou Tong slowly stepped down from the iron carriage, instinctively glancing at the night sky. His face looked somewhat pale under the starlight.
The moment he stepped off the iron carriage, the security level around Zhou Prison instantly escalated by several orders of magnitude. As for the shadows under the nearby eaves, no one knew how many cultivation experts were hidden there.
Zhou Tong was no weakling. He was a Star Gathering realm expert, a top-tier powerhouse even within the Great Zhou dynasty. Yet even so, he still lived with extreme caution. Unless required for interrogations, he rarely left Zhou Prison. Even when he did, most of the time it was to go to the imperial palace, and every trip was accompanied by countless guards. Because he knew very well that countless people wanted to kill him. If there were a ranking of the most wanted dead men on the continent, Su Li would definitely be behind him.
Entering the dark, cold cell, Zhou Tong looked at the wolf clan youth, whose body was a bloody mess with not a single intact spot. His expression showed no change, nor did it display any of the rumored perverse excitement—only calmness.
Ever since he had taken over the Ministry of Justice at Her Holiness the Empress’s command, Zhou Tong had interrogated countless prisoners, personally administered torture countless times, and witnessed countless horrors. There were many people worse off than Zheshe. He couldn’t possibly be moved by this. But he didn’t consider this numbness, nor would he allow himself to become numb from all this bloodshed. He insisted that only by maintaining his original intent toward his work could he continue to retain interest and freshness, and thereby keep his keenness toward many things.
Yes, Zhou Tong had always believed this was just a job. In his youth, he had studied the sage’s texts, but his policy essays were poor, so he turned to cultivation. He cultivated quite well, but because he was too old, he had no chance to enter the inner sects of those major schools. So he began to build connections, finally meeting Her Holiness the Empress at the Hundred Herbs Garden and taking on this job. Whatever line of work you’re in, you must love it and strive to do your best—whether studying the sage’s texts, practicing Daoist arts, or now punishing the people of the world. Zhou Tong had always demanded this of himself, and the facts proved he had indeed achieved it.
“At the hour of six and a quarter, you fainted from pain. By my calculation, you should have woken up from the pain by now. So I’ve come to ask you again: if those two women were the wings of the demon princess Nanke, why didn’t they join forces with that demon general couple to kill you all directly, instead of splitting up, giving you the chance to defeat them separately?”
Zhou Tong did not stand before Zheshe, staring into his eyes to pressure him, nor did he look at the case files on the table.
He stood at the only ventilation opening in the dungeon, quietly gazing at the stars in the night sky, appearing somewhat casual.
The case files on the table were Zheshe’s statement to Melisandre along the way. But after arriving at Zhou Prison, Zheshe had not spoken a single word. Zhou Tong knew very well that mental pressure meant nothing to this wolf clan youth. Having read through the files once, Zhou Tong remembered all the contents, including those inconspicuous details. He felt that, just like Liang Xiaoxiao’s dying words, Zheshe’s statement also contained many suspicious points. Yet he still asked casually, because he knew he didn’t need to put in too much effort—Zheshe wouldn’t admit to anything yet.
Asking this was just part of the job, a procedure, or rather a process—something mandated by Zhou Law. It was all work. Only by finishing this part could he move on to the next.
Hearing Zhou Tong’s voice, Zheshe finally reacted. But he still didn’t say a word; instead, he closed his eyes.
From Hanqiu City back to the capital, the Li Palace had sent a Red Cardinal to personally treat him. Now the toxins in his body were mostly suppressed behind his eyes. Though he still couldn’t see, it shouldn’t worsen, and his life was not in danger. He didn’t care about these issues. He was more concerned about what had actually happened in Zhou Garden. Why had the sky over Zhou Garden collapsed? Were Nanke and those demon experts dead? Was Chen Changsheng dead too? And… how was Qijian’s injury now—still unconscious, or had he woken up?
He focused on thinking about these things, hoping to alleviate the pain this way. But his face grew paler and paler, and sweat beads the size of soybeans kept rolling down his forehead.
An extremely fine needle pierced his brow, its tail pinched between Zhou Tong’s fingers, gently twisting.
Zhou Tong’s expression was very calm. It didn’t seem like he was administering torture, but rather like a doctor treating his patient.
Zheshe’s breathing grew more rapid, his brows furrowed deeper, and his body began to tremble violently.
The thin iron chains threaded through his body rubbed against his flesh, scraping off both rotten meat and newly grown tender flesh.
Zhou Tong lightly flicked the needle’s tail. Zheshe’s mouth was already full of blood, but he could no longer hold on. He cried out in agony, his hoarse voice echoing through the quiet, eerie Zhou Prison.
He wanted to faint, but the pain wouldn’t let him.
Life and death, pain and release—everything was between Zhou Tong’s fingers.
Mo Yu left Zhou Garden and headed toward the imperial palace. The wheels rolled over the blue stone slabs, bumping slightly.
She felt it would be better if a black sheep were pulling the carriage. But the black sheep didn’t like Zhou Tong and never followed her there.
Suddenly, the carriage stopped.
She gazed quietly at the cloth curtain before the carriage and asked, “Your Highness, what do you intend to do?”
Luo Luo’s voice was so clear and bright, like newly sprouted leaves in early spring: “I want to tell you all—just because the teacher hasn’t returned doesn’t mean the National Academy has no one left.”