Chapter 025: The County Constable

“Sir County Constable, we’ve discovered a secret passage.”

A shout rang out from within the courtyard, startling even Yao Qian, who had been deep in thought outside. He looked up, brushing the black ash from his hands and clapping them clean before strolling into the courtyard.

By the time he entered the room, Old Wang and two guards had already ventured down the hidden passage. Yao Qian glanced toward it—the entrance was concealed beneath the bed. He wondered who had uncovered the mystery of the bedboard.

He suppressed the turmoil in his heart; now was not the time for such shadowy thoughts. Idle speculation was pointless—without enough strength, no amount of pondering would change his fate. He seated himself by a chair, closed his eyes, and feigned rest, restoring his energy. Barely the time it takes for an incense stick to burn had passed when voices echoed from the passage, growing steadily louder and more chaotic.

As the noise intensified, those in the room drew their swords and blades, ready to defend themselves. Yao Qian did the same, just in case.

After a short wait, a series of coughs signaled Old Wang’s return from the passage, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. One after another, haggard men and women crawled out after him. Most were dressed in rags, their bodies exuding a strange odor, and their faces pale, as if they had endured great torment, both physically and mentally.

They emerged, their expressions vacant and stiff, like soulless shells—walking corpses.

When the two guards who had entered with Old Wang finally came out, their faces were still ashen, trembling as if they had witnessed something unspeakably horrific.

Old Wang sighed. “Yuan Zhen, take these people outside first. As for this place, it can no longer be kept.”

Watching the three, Yao Qian could guess that the scenes within the passage had tested the limits of human endurance. He said nothing, merely pointed to two of the guards and led the group out of the courtyard.

He walked in front, followed by the dazed young men and women, with the two guards bringing up the rear.

Following their original path, Yao Qian led them to the front courtyard, where a stench of blood immediately assailed his senses. Bodies lay strewn across the ground in a rough circle—especially within the inner ring, where corpses were piled atop one another and blood flowed down to form small pools.

Spotting the crossbow bolts lodged in the bodies, Yao Qian realized how Old Wang and his men had managed to turn the tide. Without the repeating crossbows, their mere ten-strong group, even in a tight formation, would have struggled to survive, let alone claim victory.

But he quickly pushed the thought aside. Upon leaving the estate, not long after, he saw Old Wang and the others emerge from the courtyard, leading the survivors toward the government offices in the east of the city.

They had been gone only the time it takes to drink a cup of tea before flames rose from the southern mansion, blazing like a giant torch and painting the dark sky a vivid red. Fortunately, the estate was desolate and isolated—otherwise, it never would have served as Chen Shanqu’s base for human trafficking.

Upon returning to the government office, the prefect and his advisors took care of resettling the rescued people. Old Wang led Yao Qian to the best medical clinic in Pingyang for treatment.

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, two days passed.

The most talked-about event in Pingyang during those two days was the downfall of the underworld kingpin, “Heart-Crushing Palm” Chen Shanqu, who had terrorized the city for decades. The authorities had executed him, unmasking him as the mastermind behind Pingyang’s human trafficking network.

The case sent shockwaves through the city’s criminal underbelly; law and order improved overnight, and the people hailed the upright officials, leaving the prefect beaming with pride.

In the rear office of the magistrate’s court, the prefect, his face aglow with delight, grasped Yao Qian’s hand. “This time, it’s all thanks to you, Yuan Zhen. You rid the people of a plague. As I promised, so long as you could remove Pingyang’s bane, the government would reward you with two hundred taels of silver.”

He glanced outside and called, “Bring in the reward!”

Three men in blue brought in trays heaped with silver ingots. It was Yao Qian’s first time seeing so much silver laid out before him—the last time, though the sum was thousands of taels, it had only been numbers on paper. This was tangible, dazzling silver.

Yet, inwardly, he was calm; to someone whose worth was already in the thousands, two hundred taels was not a fortune.

“My thanks, sir,” he said.

Though he no longer cared much for such things, appearances had to be maintained. Besides, his injuries were severe—his face was still pale, his strength barely at half its peak, and it was uncertain how long recovery would take. Two hundred taels was hardly enough to compensate for such wounds.

During those two days of recuperation, he and Old Wang had already discussed matters. Capitalizing on this accomplishment, they would see him promoted to county constable of a subordinate town, just as Chen Zekuan had been.

He had no great ambition for official rank, but the protection of government office could only help him. If things turned sour, he could slip away as Chen Zekuan had, always putting survival first.

“Sir, Yuan Zhen risked his life for you and the court in eradicating this villain, nearly dying in the process. Is two hundred taels enough to reward such service? Would that not seem too harsh on one of your own?” Old Wang spoke up, bowing with a somber face.

The rotund prefect stroked his beard, looking even more like a sly old rat, and nodded, squinting his eyes. “Well said, Old Wang. Yuan Zhen, if you have any requests, speak freely. I am always generous to my own men.”

Before Yao Qian could reply, Old Wang continued, “Indeed, sir, all in the yamen have seen your tireless devotion to the people of Pingyang, but the common folk cannot know your heart. Since Yuan Zhen has done so much, and since there is a vacancy for county constable in Kunyang, why not let him serve there for a time, so he may return and continue in your service with even greater merit?”

The prefect, who had been smiling contentedly at the praise, suddenly scowled, his mood shifting as fast as turning a page. “What? Send Yuan Zhen to Kunyang? That’s rather far, and he’s not yet healed. Perhaps we should reconsider?”

But Old Wang, knowing full well the prefect’s tendency to procrastinate, pressed firmly, “Sir, we all know how much you care for Yuan Zhen, but outsiders cannot see your intentions. Besides, this experience will benefit both him and you; he’ll return even better able to serve you in the future…”

After much debate between Old Wang and the prefect, the latter finally, reluctantly, agreed. When his wounds were healed, Yao Qian would depart for his new post in Kunyang.

At last, satisfied with the arrangement, Yao Qian, though still not fully recovered, took his leave.