Chapter Seventeen

The chill of the night was profound and silent, a deep darkness enveloping the entire royal manor. Lanterns hung along the path, their red flames flickering faintly, while the only other sounds were the quick, cautious, and frequent scuffing of boots against stone tiles.

Jiang Hubao was drenched in cold sweat as he hurried swiftly toward the main courtyard. The servants following behind held their breath, moving silently and without delay.

The closer they approached the main courtyard, the more personal guards stood watch in the cold night. Their eyes were indifferent, hands gripping waist daggers, exuding a murderous aura like an oppressive black cloud looming overhead.

Just as they reached the main gate, a piercing, familiar, heart-wrenching scream shattered the night air, immediately followed by the dull thud of heavy blows striking flesh, and faint cries of a terrified woman pleading for mercy.

Listening to Jiang Sihai’s agonizing wails under the rod, Jiang Hubao’s hair stood on end. His legs, planted firmly on the threshold, suddenly went weak. Fortunately, a servant behind hurried to steady him.

“Manager Jiang, you can’t back down now! The Prince has summoned you; you must go. Besides, the steward is counting on you!” whispered one attendant, clutching his sleeve tightly.

Jiang Hubao swallowed hard, wiping the sweat from his face with a trembling hand, then steeled himself and pressed forward.

The capital’s royal manor had been empty for many years. He had lived here steadily with Jiang Sihai for a long time, and had long since ceased to see such a fearsome scene. Yet, having come from the palace, he could still maintain his composure.

It should have been time for rest, but suddenly calamity struck. Just as he took off his boots and covered himself, the door was violently broken open. The messenger announced that Jiang Sihai had committed a grave offense, the master was furious, and had ordered him to be beaten with the rod, with all manor managers required to witness the punishment.

Frantically dressing and running all the way here, Jiang Hubao roughly knew the nature of Jiang Sihai’s crime. Now, hearing the desperate cries of the woman pleading, his certainty only deepened.

Passing through two more courtyard gates, the flames inside were bright, the stench of blood mingled with the wind, faintly invading his nostrils.

The horrifying scene unfolded before his eyes. Jiang Hubao and the managers behind him were shaken to their core. A long bench was placed in the center. On either side stood two palace guards brought to the capital, holding heavy round rods high, mercilessly striking the bound Jiang Sihai, who lay face down on the bench.

In front of the bench knelt three plump women dressed in pink gauze skirts, huddled together in fear, trembling as they watched Jiang Sihai’s punishment, crying until they were barely human, terrified that they might be next.

Looking up, atop the steps sat the master in a grand rosewood chair. His black hair was unbound, a thin silk black robe loosely draped over his lithe form, his features shadowed and indistinct, exuding a formidable presence.

Beside the chair, kneeling with a straight back and bowed head, was another man.

The managers who had rushed from outside were stunned but dared not linger. They quickly ran to the foot of the steps and fell to their knees in a scattered throng.

Yet, after they knelt, no order came from above. The moonlight shifted, and Jiang Sihai’s cries gradually weakened until silence fell.

“Your Highness, Jiang Sihai has fainted!” a guard reported loudly.

Zong Lin’s lips curled slightly. “Oh? How many more blows remain?”

“Ten more.”

The words hit Jiang Hubao like a bucket of ice water.

Ten more blows—Jiang Sihai was old; after enduring ten more, even if he did not die, he would be ruined.

Without time to think further, Jiang Hubao instinctively scrambled to the foot of the steps, prostrated himself, and wailed, “Your Highness! I beg for your mercy! Allow this servant to take the ten blows meant for the steward!”

Zong Lin’s gaze was cold and sharp as he looked down on him. “You wish to take his punishment?”

“Yes!” Jiang Hubao was drenched in cold sweat but saw no way back. “Your Highness, I owe the steward my upbringing and guidance. I call him master and treat him like a father. It is only right for a disciple to bear punishment for his master, a son to bear punishment for his father! Please, Your Highness, grant mercy and let this servant take the steward’s punishment!”

“Such a godson is more loyal than some who have blood ties,” Zong Lin said, “Granted.”

Jiang Hubao kowtowed deeply. “Thank you, Your Highness! Thank you, Your Highness!”

He hurriedly rose, helped untie Jiang Sihai from the bench, and lay down himself. The guards raised their rods, and the sharp pain made him scream instantly.

Zong Lin withdrew his gaze and glanced at the man kneeling beside the chair. “Do you know your crime?”

He Cheng clenched his fists tightly, regret flooding him. Gritting his teeth, he whispered, “I know, Your Highness.”

“Speak.”

“I should not have acted against my master, presumptuously guessing his intentions. Nor should I have colluded with Jiang Sihai in vile acts that sullied your reputation. I betrayed Your Highness’s trust.” The hulking man’s eyes were red and aching.

He never imagined Jiang Sihai would be so brazen as to hide three maids within the Prince’s bedchamber!

Even more, he regretted his own foolish words. The master’s discernment was clear; making him kneel here meant he already knew why Jiang Sihai had brought such women.

He had made a grave mistake and deserved punishment.

“Fifteen strikes with the military rod.”

“Yes!”

He Cheng rose, bowed, and without looking back, sprinted out of the courtyard.

Though every blow seared with fierce pain, no further strikes came; Jiang Hubao was soaked in sweat, barely keeping consciousness.

Of course, he heard the fifteen blows.

A sudden jolt sharpened his mind; the pain made it clearer.

Two guards lifted him from the bench and handed him to accompanying servants, who took him and Jiang Sihai back to their quarters.

Jiang Hubao lay across the spring bench, hair plastered to his face, casting a distant look at the master on the steps.

If it were only his master being punished, he could guess reasons—perhaps the women chosen displeased the master, or the acts were too indecent, offending his master’s taboos.

But why was Commander He being punished?

Was it simply for informing his master about what kind of women he might like?

No, He Cheng was the master’s most trusted confidant, having fought alongside him for years. Knowing the master’s preferences in women was nothing unusual, and even if some information leaked, such a severe punishment was inexplicable.

The military rod was far harsher than the manor’s punishment rod. Fifteen blows could lay even a seasoned warrior low for ten days or more, even with the best wound care.

Jiang Hubao gasped for breath, eyes darting restlessly.

Something was wrong.

He had to think carefully.

When the master first arrived in the capital, there were no peculiarities in his private quarters. But ever since returning from the palace, things had changed.

And He Cheng’s descriptions were detailed—to temperament, figure, even age.

Yet his master said he had no personal attendants.

Thus, the information He Cheng had might not have come from years of close service.

It seemed more like it came from... a particular person.

Jiang Hubao’s eyes widened, realizing he might have uncovered something monumental.

A woman? One from the palace, not too young?

Could it be from one of the noble families—

“Ugh! Hiss!”

Startled, Jiang Hubao bit his tongue.

“Manager Jiang, are you alright? Hang on, we’re almost there!” a servant leaned down beside him.

Jiang Hubao forced himself to wave him away with a weak arm. “I’m fine.”

Cold sweat dripped down, but beneath the tangled hair, his eyes burned with fierce intensity.

If his suspicions were not entirely wrong, he might gain the master’s trust even before his own teacher.

But the time was not yet ripe; he had to wait patiently.

Exhaling a long, heavy breath, he sank back down, satisfied.

...

The main courtyard was only cleared late into the night. Servants replaced beds, tables, and chairs, closing the doors tightly. A faint light filtered through the papered windows, quietly spilling outside.

Zong Lin stood before the Treasure Pavilion, polishing his long sword, which had accompanied him for many years.

These days, he slept much later than before.

Not out of self-torment, but because if he fell asleep, he could not help but see that woman.

And when he awoke the next day, it was to a cold bed and an empty pillow.

At such times, he couldn’t help but wonder: did she sleep soundly at the same moment?

He sneered inwardly. Surely she did. She refused to face him, never heard his voice, perhaps did not even know who he was. She had a man to accompany her at home—how could she suffer the torment of lustful dreams as he did?

In his dreams, she seduced him into the vilest acts: entering his bed on the first night, then growing more brazen, leading him to the deepest, deserted parts of the garden for illicit rendezvous.

Many times, he wanted to kill her—a shadow with a soul but no body, her repeated soft whispers dragging him down, making him lose his honor and become a puppet, helplessly manipulated.

What enraged him most was that tonight, three beautiful women lay across the bed, yet his heart was filled only with murderous fury, no desire. He wished only to tear apart those foolish servants who imagined him a licentious, unprincipled fool.

But in dreams, he lost control. His rage was useless. He was like a marionette pulled by her strings, a dog beneath her skirt, unable to resist her beckoning, compelled to taste every inch of her.

What humiliation.

What injustice.

Why was he the only one tormented?

He turned his wrist, the sword’s gleam catching his eye before slowly sheathing it.

Lying on the bed, eyes closed, dark tides roiled within.

If this went on much longer, he might truly lose his mind.

But if that day came, he vowed to take that woman with him to the underworld.