Chapter 70: The Fish-Gut Sword

Seeing that I did not understand, Zhao Shuihe reminded me, "The man Zhuan Zhu assassinated was King Liao of Wu, who was notoriously cruel and suspicious, especially wary of assassinations."

At that time, the world was in utter chaos, and the practice of assassination was rampant. Every ruler was on high alert. They were constantly surrounded by bodyguards, and every single dish had to be inspected multiple times to ensure absolute safety before it was served to the royal family. Even when Zhuan Zhu presented the dish back then, he was completely naked, terrified of concealing any hidden weapons that might betray his intent to assassinate the king upon seeing him.

Her words quickly enlightened me, making me realize that the fish held profound significance.

Noticing that I had grasped some of it, Zhao Shuihe continued, "Think about it, if Zhuan Zhu had concealed a sword inside the belly of the fish, would those guards really have been foolish enough to let a stranger present a fish directly to the King of Wu without thoroughly inspecting it?"

"Are you saying..." I seemed to piece something together.

With perfect timing, Zhao Shuihe laid it out for me, "In truth, Zhuan Zhu did not use a sword to commit the assassination at all. What he used was a fishbone!"

"A fishbone?!" I gasped.

Indeed, if a fishbone had been used, all the previous doubts fell into place, and the scene of the assassination of King Liao of Wu flashed vividly before my mind's eye.

The fish meat had been thoroughly checked by the king's bodyguards and found to be completely untainted—no daggers, no short swords, nothing except a slightly hardened fishbone.

Stripped bare, Zhuan Zhu carried the platter bearing the fish as he approached the King of Wu. Just as the king caught the fragrant aroma of the roasted fish and his mouth began to water, Zhuan Zhu suddenly offered, "Shall I debone the fish for you, Your Majesty?"

Then, with absolute composure, he pulled the spine out from the belly of the fish.

Because what Zhuan Zhu extracted was merely a fishbone rather than a dagger, the guards took no action, assuming it was simply part of the process of consuming roasted fish.

Yet, none of them could have anticipated that this particular fishbone was extraordinarily rigid, as sharp and lethal as a bronze sword.

Seizing the moment when everyone's guard was down, Zhuan Zhu executed a strike akin to a "rainbow piercing the sun," using that very fishbone to deliver a fatal blow that instantly smashed the King of Wu's skull.

In the wake of this heart-pounding assassination, the spine—as rigid as a dagger and capable of taking a life—was exaggerated in tales over time until it finally became the legendary "Fish-Intestinal Sword," ranked among the Ten Great Famous Swords, though it always felt somewhat awkward no matter how one looked at it.

After all, anyone using common sense would realize that Zhuan Zhu could never have smuggled an actual sword in to assassinate the King of Wu; he wouldn't even have cleared the poison-tasting checkpoint.

At this thought, I drew in a sharp breath and shook my head slightly. "That roasted fish was crafted by the 'Shadow Chefs'? They used a specific kind of fish and cooking technique to transform the bones of a single roasted fish into a lethal weapon?!"

Zhao Shuihe nodded and pressed on, "Do you know the story of how two peaches killed three warriors?"

I shook my head, admitting I had never heard of it.

Zhao Shuihe explained that Yanzi, the prime minister of the State of Qi during the Spring and Autumn period, used a mere two peaches in a cunning plot that resulted in the immediate, blood-spattered execution of three warriors whose merits overshadowed their ruler's. The cruelty of the scheme and the viciousness of the strategy were practically peerless in antiquity.

Zhao Shuihe reminded me, "And yet, Yanzi enjoys a stellar reputation in Chinese history. He respected the wise, loved the common people, and possessed the capacity for tolerance and forbearance—he is the epitome of a gentleman. How on earth did he suddenly have a brainstorm and come up with such a venomous plot to slaughter loyal retainers?"

At a loss for words, I stammered, "Well... perhaps it was an idea hatched by his strategist... Wait, are you saying..."

Zhao Shuihe nodded, clarifying further, "The 'Shadow Chef' who devised this plan for Yanzi did not use poison, but strategy. He brilliantly manipulated psychological principles: first by having Yanzi praise how extraordinarily delicious the peaches were to whet the appetites of the three generals, and then offering only two peaches for the three of them."

Shuige stopped there, but I understood the principle completely.

In modern terms, the method Yanzi used to eliminate the three warriors applied "food psychology and color psychology."

My former platoon leader had once said, "Food can bring a person to life, and food can also lead a person to death." In other words, under specific conditions, "appetite" can transform into an impulse for slaughter; otherwise, the idiom "two tigers fighting over a single prey is bound to leave one wounded" would never have come to be.

Hearing Zhao Shuihe's words, a sudden realization dawned on me, accompanied by an involuntary shudder of bone-chilling dread.

My knowledge of the history of the Spring and Autumn period was limited, but I knew a few famous figures, and I also knew that behind the deaths of many of these people, "food" and related matters had played a driving, fueling role.

Furthermore, the deaths of these historical figures were exceedingly bizarre and uncanny, utterly defying explanations of poisoning, illness, or mere carelessness.

For instance, Duke Jing of Jin, a renowned figure in Chinese history, was originally in robust health with no premonition of death whatsoever. Yet one day, while eating, he was suddenly seized by a sharp abdominal pain and ultimately tumbled into a latrine pit, drowning in waste.

Take another example: Duke Huan of Qi, the hegemon of the Spring and Autumn period. He was a monumental ruler of his generation—even the Son of Heaven held him in awe—yet he was ultimately starved to death. His corpse was crawling with maggots before anyone even noticed, a truly pathetic and sigh-worthy end.

Curiously, the person he trusted most was a chef named Yiya. This chef had been utterly loyal to Duke Huan, even going so far as to slaughter his own son and cook him for the duke to eat, solely to satisfy the ruler's gluttony and absurd whims.

Yet it was this very Yiya who, at the moment when Duke Huan trusted him most and desperately needed him, underwent a drastic change in temperament, not only instigating a violent rebellion but literally starving his own master to death.

Behind every single plot connected to food, one could vaguely sense the faint, lingering shadow of a ghost drifting back and forth.

Food, conspiracies, vicious plots, and bizarre demises.

Could all of this be the handiwork of those so-called "Shadow Chefs"...?

At this thought, a cold shiver ran down my spine. At the same time, I turned my head to look at Wang Hou, who lay unconscious and afflicted by the food curse.

I could not help asking Zhao Shuihe, "How do you know all of this?"

Zhao Shuihe replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world, "I am a member of the Zhao family, inheritor of the Five Viscera Temple. I ought to know these things. On the contrary, what about you... didn't Zhao Haipeng ever tell you?"

I shook my head helplessly.

While my old platoon leader had indeed spoken to me about the dark history within the culinary underworld when he was alive, I had never studied it in depth, leaving me with only a half-baked understanding of many issues.

Still, it was fortunate that Zhao Shuihe knew! Now was the time for her to honor her promise.

Therefore, pointing toward Wang Hou on the bed, I said to Zhao Shuihe, "You lost our culinary duel. It's time to keep your word and lift the curse from me and my comrade."

A flash of panic suddenly crossed Zhao Shuihe's face, though she quickly composed herself, forcing a chuckle as she replied, "Lift the curse? Oh, absolutely! I'll lift it right away. However... you have to satisfy one condition of mine."

Good grief! Is there anyone more shameless than this? She lost the bet and still dares to negotiate conditions! By breaking her word, wasn't she afraid of being struck down by heavenly lightning?

Moreover, I could tell from her flustered expression... could it be that she had no idea how to lift the curse at all?!

Faced with Zhao Shuihe's additional demands, alongside my suspicions came a rising wave of impatience. Yet, considering she was my only lifeline, I had no outlet for my frustration.

Suppressing my anger, I demanded, "What condition?"