Chapter Fifty-Seven: Selecting People, Consecutive Trials

Peng Liang was startled, rushing with his sword to shield the official, the blade spinning swiftly in his hand. In the dim glow cast by the candlelight within the room, only the faint, fragmented sound of "ding ding" could be heard.

At the very moment the window burst open, Di Ying lunged forward, tackling Yao Cong to the ground. The commotion quickly subsided. Peng Liang remained vigilant, not pursuing the assailant. Di Ying promptly rose to inspect the criminal they had been interrogating.

As expected, the criminal, who was closer to the window than they were, was dead. The hidden weapons were not only aimed at Di Ying but even more so at the person he had been questioning.

Peng Liang dared not pursue. Nor did Di Ying allow it. If the villain could orchestrate a diversion once, there was every possibility of a second or third attack. Someone with Wu Qiongsi’s temperament would rather eliminate Di Ying and Yao Cong than merely silence those who might leak secrets.

“We’ll go to the main house,” Di Ying said, instructing Peng Liang to guard himself and Yao Cong as they made their way to the main house to stay with Chen Hehua’s parents.

The two elders had not been attacked, which allowed Di Ying to breathe a partial sigh of relief. Yet, anger simmered within him. Wu Qiongsi—just how little did he think of Di Ying?

“Wu Qiongsi must really look down on us, don’t you think? Sent only one person to kill Wu Minzhe’s parents; sent only one to kill us. The one who tried to ambush us outside the window just now—it was only one person, wasn’t it? Was it that bodyguard Zhang An?” Yao Cong, restless, paced in circles, muttering.

“Mm,” Di Ying replied, then continued, “Wu Qiongsi knows we’re powerless against him. If he can get rid of us, he will; if not, he’ll eliminate the witnesses. He doesn’t see any of this as terribly important. He’ll simply reduce trouble wherever he can.”

Di Ying’s expression was grave, his tone heavy. The Wu family’s power was overwhelming; to them, he and Yao Cong were little more than jesters.

Di Ying stood, watching the chaotic shadows of the trees dance across the ground. When dawn began to break and the two attendants who were to escort Wu Minzhe’s parents returned, Di Ying finally had Yao Cong lead them in relocating Chen Hehua’s parents.

He himself took Peng Liang and went directly to the Left Jinwu Guard camp. For what purpose? To select men!

Had not His Majesty said so? If he needed men, he could come here to choose; after selecting, he need only report to the emperor. So he had to choose, or else he’d always be short-handed and unable to accomplish anything.

He didn’t pick many, just ten. Ten young, sturdy, skilled men, unmarried, with clear, upright eyes.

“I know that being transferred from Jinwu Guards to become my personal guards is something of a demotion for you. But—protecting His Majesty is for the empire, and protecting me is also for the empire.

I won’t lecture you with high-sounding principles, nor can I promise you anything, not even guarantee your safety. I am an official in charge of criminal cases; danger is ever-present. You will be the ones who stand with me through hardship and peril.

You may decide for yourselves; I won’t force you.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than ten knees hit the ground. Ten strong voices rang out in unison: “We pledge our lives in service to Master Di!”

With that change in address, their intentions were clear. Di Ying reached out to help each one up.

At that moment, Zhao Peng jumped up before Di Ying could assist, grinning, “Sir, you finally came to find us! Your order to select men had already reached the Left Jinwu Guard—we’ve been waiting so long our necks are stretched thin.”

Sun Jun kicked Zhao Peng, then scratched his face sheepishly as he said to Di Ying, “Honestly…we weren’t that interested at first.

Just as you said: the Jinwu Guards are prestigious, and we worked hard to be chosen. Suddenly, to become private guards—more toil, more hardship, and the title isn’t even as impressive.

But later, we heard about your deeds.

To be frank: it was so satisfying. My mother said you’re a good man, a good official, and told me to protect you well.”

Before Sun Jun finished, Qian You chimed in, “Sir, we’ve been hoping for this ever since. Training hard every day, just to be chosen by you. Now that it’s happened, I can finally give my parents an answer.”

Master Di’s approachable manner stirred the ten into lively chatter, each expressing their anticipation and excitement, paying little heed to the dangers that lay ahead.

Di Ying was moved—these were true sons of the empire, full of righteous vigor.

So, before the others, jealous enough to want to fight these ten, could act, Di Ying hurriedly led his new men out of the camp.

As they walked, Di Ying made a suggestion: “For ease of remembering and to protect your identities, I’ll assign you numbers. From now on, you’ll be called by your numbers, not your names.”

The ten nodded in unison, turning their attention to him.

Di Ying had them line up by age and assigned numbers: Zhao Three, Xu Four, Qian Five, Liu Six, Shi Ten, and so forth, leaving One and Two vacant.

Zhao Three asked, “Sir, are you saving One and Two for someone special?”

Di Ying smiled warmly, “In the future, whoever proves himself most capable can move up to those spots.”

Hearing this, the ten immediately rolled up their sleeves, eager to compete. Di Ying stopped them, pointing to Peng Liang, “This is Peng Liang, a fifth-rank sword-bearing guard. He will be your leader. If any of you can defeat him, your position can change.”

No sooner had he spoken than the ten raised their fists to Peng Liang. In Peng Liang’s star-bright eyes, a spark ignited.

Di Ying, smiling, stepped aside to let them determine their rankings. Soldiers submit to strength; it’s all decided through combat.

…

Meanwhile, elsewhere.

After Zhang An reported to him, Wu Qiongsi waved his hand dismissively, “As long as you’ve eliminated that person, that’s enough. Leave the rest; you don’t need to concern yourself further.”

When Zhang An left, Wu Qiongsi summoned his second son, Wu Xiangjin.

He instructed him, “Di Ying is a lawless sort, stubborn too. Now that His Majesty favors him, he’s overstepping and meddling in your affairs.

I can’t move against him just yet, so you should lay low for a while and don’t leave the manor.

His caseload is mountainous; once he’s busy for a stretch—and with me shielding you—he’ll set your matter aside.

Then you may act freely.”

Wu Xiangjin listened, pursing his lips inwardly but outwardly responding respectfully.

…

Wu Qiongsi was correct in one thing: Di Ying, indeed, spun like a top, never stopping.

The courtroom of the Right Division of the Dali Temple, which he oversaw, was open from dawn till dusk, hearing case after case.

“Shen Qi, you broke into a house. When discovered by the owner, your murderous intent arose, and you killed the owner before fleeing. Do you admit to this?”

“I do not! I didn’t kill anyone, I didn’t kill anyone—I am innocent!” Shen Qi cried out desperately.

“Innocent?”