Chapter 37: Scholars Can Kill Too

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Ouyang Rong lay awake in the darkness, his eyes closed but sleep nowhere near him.

The more he thought about it, the stranger it seemed.

Why had his merit suddenly increased in the middle of the night? He had not done anything just now—only given a few offhand instructions.

Could it be that sending Banxi back and refusing her hint that she wanted to share his bed had saved her? Or perhaps… giving pastries to Old Cui and the clerks so they could rest had saved them?

If so, did that mean something had happened in the eastern storehouse?

Ouyang Rong immediately rolled off the desk and rushed outside.

When he reached the vicinity of the eastern storehouse, he indeed caught sight of a dark shadow flashing across its roof in the distance. A moment later, the graceful figure of his junior sister burst from the doorway below, sprang nimbly onto the roof, bent her bow beneath the moon, and loosed an arrow before giving chase. Chaos erupted outside the eastern storehouse.

With a short sword borrowed from his junior sister hanging at his waist, Ouyang Rong gripped the hilt and advanced warily. From the soldiers and clerks he encountered, he quickly learned what had happened and let out a sigh of relief. But when he heard that Old Cui was still inside the eastern storehouse, stubbornly continuing to work, concern returned. He exchanged no more than a few words with Qin Heng outside before entering directly…

And there, Ouyang Rong witnessed a scene that left him speechless.

“What are you doing?”

The old man, who had been quietly working all this time, swayed on his feet.

Without turning his head, Ouyang Rong reached out and stopped Qin Heng and the other soldiers from rushing inside.

He said gravely, “Put down the lamp.”

Old Cui silently nodded, released his grip, and let the lamp fall onto the stacks of account books drenched in a strange liquid.

In an instant, a volcano of flame erupted across the table.

The fire even spread along the edge and onto the old man standing before it. The strange liquid seemed more flammable than oil; the blaze rose with terrifying speed. Had Ouyang Rong not lunged forward at once and shoved Old Cui aside, the old man would have been swallowed by the flames the next second.

“Magistrate Ouyang, the account books!”

Qin Heng seized a bucket of well water and was about to throw it onto the table, but Ouyang Rong snatched it from him. The first bucket doused Old Cui’s head; the second did the same. Fortunately, little of the strange liquid had splashed onto him. The fire had flared quickly—and was extinguished just as quickly.

Even so, Old Cui was severely burned. Most of his hair, beard, and eyebrows had been scorched away, making him look like a red carrot freshly pulled from the earth, its root still caked with mud.

The flames consuming the piles of account books on the table were not put out until the seventh bucket of water. Nothing remained but ash.

Qin Heng and the other commanders opened their mouths, but no words came out.

“All of you, get out.”

Ouyang Rong did not even glance at them or at the embers on the table. He dragged over a chair, collapsed his weary body against its back, and stared at the old man writhing on the floor before him, curled up like a shrimp. His five fingers tightened around the sword hilt.

Only the two of them remained in the room.

“Why?” the young magistrate asked.

“I’m… sorry.”

“No, no. You’re not the one you owe an apology to.” Ouyang Rong shook his head, lowered his eyes, and forced out each word. “Tell me. Why?”

“Your old servant… did consider refusing.”

“But you did not.”

“When I fled here during the famine that year, it was the Liu family’s porridge shed that saved my life.”

“That wretched porridge shed could save anyone?” Ouyang Rong laughed.

“That is how it is now. When Old Master Liu was still alive, it was different. He would never have allowed the three brothers to behave as they do today… In those days, the Liu family’s porridge shed did not strip people of their possessions, and it truly saved some lives.”

“I thought you were a sleeper agent planted by the Liu family, placed here long ago because they anticipated that someone would bring troops to inspect the accounts.”

“I am no death soldier. I found my position at the county office myself. After Old Master Liu died, I lost contact with the Liu family for many years. I even thought they had forgotten me. But… they still came looking for me.”

Old Cui shook his head with a bitter smile. “Young Master.”

The young magistrate drew his entire body into the broad chair and calmly answered, “Hmm.”

“I owe the Liu family this debt. I must repay it.”

“By burning yourself to death?”

“If I burn the accounts, my debt to the Liu family is settled. But I will have failed you, Young Master, and the thousands of refugees outside the city.”

“What kind of rotten logic is that?”

“Even you think it makes no sense…” Old Cui murmured toward the ceiling. “I have spent my whole life balancing accounts, yet I still miscalculated this final entry?”

“So dying would make everything right?”

“An old man’s life is cheap…”

“Your life is indeed cheap.”

Ouyang Rong nodded. “You committed a vile act, so your life is cheap. But it did not have to be. You were the one who chose to debase yourself.”

Old Cui froze. Ouyang Rong’s voice was firm.

“No true man is born with a worthless life. Whether he is noble or base depends only on whether he does noble or despicable things. And you? Which are you—noble or despicable?”

“I…” Old Cui’s body began to tremble, but he could not utter another word.

Ouyang Rong leaned forward, bracing both elbows on his knees. He looked coldly down at the fear dawning in the old man’s eyes.

“Is justice worth less to you than a single bowl of porridge from more than a decade ago?”

“I…” Old Cui stammered weakly. “I thought you could win, Young Master… If only one family were burned, there would still be the other twelve. It would not affect the relief effort…”

“The Liu family is the chief culprit. If the Liu family does not fall and we move against the other twelve first, it would be no different from driving away wolves only to raise tigers—or even forcing wolves and tigers to join hands. It would be a path to certain death. Besides…” Ouyang Rong asked calmly, “Whether I ultimately win has anything to do with whether you commit a despicable act?”

Old Cui stared blankly, opening and closing his mouth without managing to speak.

Ouyang Rong rose and looked toward the distant mountains outside the window before delivering his verdict.

“A meal’s kindness must be repaid. I respect you as a man. But to see a small favor and forget the greater justice—you have brought shame upon the men of Wu-Yue.”

Pain twisted across Old Cui’s face. Clutching his head, he burst into tears, his hoarse voice heavy with remorse.

“Young Master, I… I was wrong… I miscalculated the accounts… I wronged you…”

“No. The person you wronged most was not me. Go apologize to the refugees outside the city.”

A flicker of light appeared once more in Old Cui’s eyes. It was a complicated light: guilt, regret, hope for survival, and pain at the thought of the future.

“All right. I’ll apologize. I’ll do more to atone for my sins. For the rest of my life, I’ll work like an ox or a horse for them…”

Ouyang Rong shook his head. “There is no need to make things so complicated. A portion of your life will do.”

“What portion…”

Before the old man could finish his bewildered question, the young magistrate strode forward and swept his sword sideways.

A head fell. The headless body toppled backward onto the floor.

The young magistrate stood where he was, the stroke completed as smoothly as a scythe through wheat. He lowered his head and glanced at the sword in his hand—and at Old Cui.

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The sword’s cold gleam illuminated a face of charred flesh, its eyebrows burned away.

It was a fine sword. Its white blade bore no blood, only droplets sliding down it like mercury.

He could slay dragons.

Ouyang Rong, who had killed a man for the first time, wiped the blood splattered across his face with the fabric at his shoulder. He stood still and tried to return the sword to its sheath, but after several attempts he could not guide it into the opening at his waist. In the end, he gave up, took the sword in one hand, seized the severed head in the other, and turned to walk slowly out.

In the courtyard stood Xie Lingjiang, Commandant Qin, Yan Sixth, and Deputy Magistrate Diao. The group had gathered silently outside the door, their eyes widening as they watched a magistrate with the air of a frail scholar emerge carrying a severed head in one hand.

Xie Lingjiang held two broken sections of a bronze beast mask dangling from her fingers. She looked at her senior brother anxiously and stepped forward to speak, but Yan Sixth caught her sleeve from behind.

The young magistrate’s bloodstained face was frighteningly calm.

He casually tossed the severed head before them.

“Traitor.”

The entire courtyard fell silent.

“Take it to the city wall and hang it there,” he added.

A complicated look mingled with awe and fear appeared in everyone’s eyes. As Ouyang Rong advanced expressionlessly, the crowd ahead of him parted of its own accord.

Only Deputy Magistrate Diao, who had just arrived and knew nothing of what had happened, remained as long-winded as ever. He hurried forward with a deeply troubled expression.

“Ah, Magistrate, I told you we shouldn’t investigate, shouldn’t investigate! What if we found something? People could die! If there’s a problem, we can discuss it amicably. Governing such a large county, with so many gentry clans and powerful families, requires a small fire and a slow simmer…”

Ouyang Rong abruptly drew his sword and hacked forward.

“Simmer your mother’s head.”

“Ah! Help! Help me!”

Deputy Magistrate Diao was so terrified that his soul nearly fled his body. Clutching his head, he fled like a rat. Ouyang Rong pursued him with a dark face and sword in hand. Diao shouted for help at the top of his lungs, but no one dared intervene to stop the enraged magistrate. Everyone simply stood by in a daze and watched. Even those who happened to block the path of their pursuit silently stepped aside…

And so, under the eyes of the entire crowd, the magistrate and deputy magistrate of the county staged a desperate race for their lives in the courtyard.

“Magistrate, calm down… Please, calm down… Ah!”

Unfortunately, Deputy Magistrate Diao was a lifelong office drone, forever drowsy after rising at dawn and proud of his ability to survive on all-night vigils. How could he outrun Magistrate Ouyang, the second-place winner in his school’s hundred-meter race?

He had not even completed half a circuit when he let out a miserable scream. A flying kick from behind sent him sprawling face-first into the dirt, while his official hat went sailing over the courtyard wall.

Ouyang Rong straddled Deputy Magistrate Diao, one hand pressing down on the man’s narrow head. He drove his sword into the ground beside Diao’s neck, the white blade almost entirely buried in the soil.

The hairs on Diao’s neck nearly brushed the edge of the blade. His soul practically left his body. Eyes bulging and neck craned, he looked like a duck pinned to a chopping block, waiting to have its head cut off.

“Magistrate, spare my life! Spare my life! Sob, sob…”

“Always chattering… Grinding away in my ear every day. You’re kneeling there begging for food, and you still want to drag me down with you?!”

“I’m not! I truly only want what’s best for you, Magistrate… Please calm down! Calm down!”

Ouyang Rong pried open Diao’s eyelid with his fingers. The man’s bloodshot eyes stared directly into his own terror-filled gaze. Ouyang Rong’s right hand rested on the hilt beside Diao’s neck. With the slightest forward shove, he could claim another fresh head.

“Calm down?” The young magistrate tilted his head. “Tell me why I should calm the hell down. If you can’t answer, I’ll chop off your head to consecrate the banner, then lead the troops to the Liu family and knock on their door. I’ll confiscate every last household!”

“...!”

Deputy Magistrate Diao.

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