MSW Chapter29

61

The moment Mu Peixuan spoke those words, it felt as though Duan Linzhou’s heart had stopped in his chest. He stood frozen, stunned, unable to recover for a long while. Instinctively, he tried to look at Mu Peixuan’s expression, but the arm wrapped tightly around his waist held him in place. All he could glimpse was the faint flush on the young man’s ears.

 

The kiss was light, laced with affection and care, landing softly on his cheek, yet it pressed down on Duan Linzhou’s heart like a thousand pounds. He wanted to smile, he should have smiled, but he simply couldn’t.

 

Mu Peixuan didn’t know that when Duan Linzhou had married him, there had indeed been a trace of affection hidden in his heart.

 

He had lived for so many years, grown used to beauty and charm, and was no stranger to admiration, both from men and women alike. Yet perhaps because his ambitions lay elsewhere at the time, he had never felt even the slightest stir of interest toward anyone.

 

Until he met Mu Peixuan.

 

The first time they met, he hadn’t even gotten a clear look, it was just a fleeting glance. Yet that proud, sun-bright figure lingered in Duan Linzhou’s memory for a long time. At the time, he was worn out from merely trying to survive. All he did was have someone look into Mu Peixuan’s background; he had always been one to settle debts, whether of kindness or resentment.

 

As for anything beyond that, there wasn’t much. In the face of life and death, what did romance matter? It was but a fleeting shadow.

 

In these three years, countless renowned physicians had examined him, but each one only shook their head in sorrow. The pity in their eyes became unbearable for Duan Linzhou. He shut himself away for a long period until one day, while staring at the frail, pale figure in the mirror, he suddenly grew calm.

 

“Life and death are destined”, those four words echoed in his mind over and over, and he had no choice but to accept them.

 

Then Duan Linzhou became Duan Boss once again.

 

At first, the thought of marrying Mu Peixuan had never crossed his mind, at least not seriously. It wasn’t until that day at Weixiang Lou, right after he had finally handled a few difficult merchants, that the idea began to take root. Duan Linyu had made his illness public knowledge, and everyone knew that his time was limited. Openly or secretly, countless pairs of eyes were now fixated on the Duan family, eager to take his place.

 

Duan Linzhou pressed a hand to his aching brow. As he gazed out from the railing, he saw a few riders pushing through the crowd, heading toward him.

 

At the head of the group rode a striking young Tianqian, seated high on horseback, casually twirling a gem-studded riding whip in his hand, head tilted as he chatted with the person beside him. It was mid-spring, and the apricot blossoms along the street were in full bloom, brilliant and lively, in shades of soft red and snowy white, mingling in a dazzling display.

 

The person beside him said something, prompting the young Tianqian to raise his brows and smile, full of youthful spirit and carefree charm.

 

As he watched the procession pass by, Duan Linzhou turned to Liu Guang beside him and asked, “Who is that?”

 

Liu Guang craned his neck and watched for quite a while before saying, “That should be Xiao Junwang from Marquis Annan Mansion.”

 

Duan Linzhou instantly remembered — Mu Peixuan. The name lingered on the tip of his tongue for a moment before he swallowed it down.

 

Duan Linzhou had never imagined that Mu Peixuan would one day say the word “like” to him with such earnestness.

 

But to say he had never wished for it at all — that would be a lie. Those two words were so precious, and now that Duan Linzhou had truly heard them, it felt like fate was toying with him. The joy came mingled with a flood of guilt, leaving him momentarily speechless, his body trembling ever so slightly. Sensing something, Mu Peixuan couldn’t help but wonder if he had been too abrupt. He knew Duan Linzhou could be thin-skinned at times, and the thought made him instinctively lower his head to check. But just then, Duan Linzhou lowered his head as well and suddenly reached out to tightly embrace Mu Peixuan’s waist, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

 

Duan Linzhou’s gesture was far too intimate, Mu Peixuan froze for a moment, then let out a soft laugh.

 

Mu Peixuan did, truly, like Duan Linzhou.

 

At times, he found himself wishing Duan Linzhou were a kunze. That night during the Lantern Festival, when Duan Linzhou coughed up blood and collapsed unconscious, had truly shaken him. Even after he regained consciousness, the lingering dread in Mu Peixuan’s heart remained, as if at any moment, Duan Linzhou might once again go deathly pale and fall limply into his arms.

 

And yet, Duan Linzhou remained distant and hard to grasp, which only deepened Mu Peixuan’s anxiety and unease. It struck him then that Duan Linzhou had never truly bared his heart to him. The question felt far too sentimental for him to ask aloud. But thinking carefully about the days they had spent together, he thought, Surely Duan Linzhou liked him. Didn’t he?

 

If it were merely for the sake of the Duan family, then now that he had already married into Marquis Annan Mansion and become his Junwang Fei, Duan Linzhou had no reason to go to such lengths for him.

 

Duan Linzhou likes me, Mu Peixuan thought, and the surge of emotion in his chest was unmistakable. It wasn’t just joy, he was genuinely, profoundly happy.

 

62

Liu Sanjiu was indeed quite capable.

 

The day after receiving Duan Linzhou’s order, he made his way to the yamen prison. Inside were three men, they were the ghost-masked assassins who had been wounded and knocked unconscious during the Lantern Festival attack. The yamen had specifically summoned a physician to keep them alive, but given their serious injuries and the fact that they were death warriors, it was no easy task to both preserve their lives and extract information. Torture was arduous, and interrogation was even more challenging.

 

Liu Sanjiu asked the physician a few questions and ordered someone to prepare medicine to keep the prisoners alive. Then he told all the prison guards to leave. The guards instinctively looked toward Zhou Xing. Zhou Xing was from Marquis Annan Mansion, while Liu Sanjiu held no official rank, Liu Sanjiu had been brought here by Zhou Xing.

 

Zhou Xing glanced at Liu Sanjiu. The Kunze was short and slender, seemingly frail; if not for the curved blade at his waist, he would have been no different from any ordinary Kunze. But Zhou Xing was Mu Peixuan’s trusted aide, and before they came, Mu Peixuan had given clear instructions: everything was to follow Liu Sanjiu’s lead.

 

Zhou Xing waved his hand and said, “Everyone, leave.” Then, turning to Liu Sanjiu with a smile, he added, “Brother Liu, let me lend you a hand.”

 

Liu Sanjiu gave him a peculiar smile, sizing him up from head to toe, and said, “Stay if you want.”

 

For the next three days, aside from washing up, Liu Sanjiu did not step out of the prison even once.

 

Three days later, Liu Sanjiu finally stepped out of the prison, with Zhou Xing trailing behind, his steps unsteady and his face pale. The two of them were about three paces apart, both carrying a faint scent of blood.

 

During these three days of interrogation, even though Zhou Xing was a Tianqian, he had nearly reached his limit. He had witnessed firsthand how Liu Sanjiu managed to pry open the mouths of the ghost-masked men. Just thinking about it made his scalp tingle. He never imagined a Kunze could be so ruthless.

 

Liu Sanjiu hadn’t done something like this in a long time. Though he felt a bit fatigued, his mood was surprisingly light. He glanced at Zhou Xing and suddenly asked, “Has Lord Zhou ever tamed the eagle?”

 

Liu Sanjiu didn’t wait for Zhou Xing to answer and muttered to himself, “Five years ago, someone gave our Boss a gyrfalcon. I stayed awake for five or six days without rest and managed to tame the bird, making it obedient.” He glanced at Zhou Xing, showing a grin that revealed his bright red lips and white teeth. Yet, there was an unsettling sense of danger in his smile, which Zhou Xing instinctively sensed. Liu Sanjiu continued, “If his bones are too tough, break them one by one. If he refuses to talk, pull out his teeth. If his skin is too thick, peel it away piece by piece. Sooner or later, he’ll talk.”

 

“Some people have hearts darker than beasts, yet their willpower isn’t even as strong as that of a prey or livestock.”

 

Liu Sanjiu casually handed the stack of rice paper, stained with dry ink, to Zhou Xing and said, “Go make the report.”

 

Zhou Xing asked, “Won’t Brother Liu go with me?”

 

Liu Sanjiu replied indifferently, “No need.”

 

Zhou Xing didn’t insist, smiling as he said, “Then, Brother Liu, you should rest. This time, you’ve worked hard.”

 

Liu Sanjiu said nothing and turned to leave.

 

Soon after, the confessions were brought before Mu Peixuan.

 

The ghost-masked men had low status, merely being death warriors, and didn’t know much. However, the few confessions they extracted were enough to reveal that the uprising in Fengzhou was indeed connected to the Arles tribe. What caught Mu Peixuan’s attention most, though, was the mention of the three characters “Jiulian Sect[mfn]Nine Lotus Sect[/mfn]” in the confessions.

 

The Jiulian Sect had appeared in recent years in Fengzhou, Longzhou, and other impoverished regions. They worshiped a statue of a holy lord, revered by the sect’s followers as the “Jiulian Holy Lord,” and believed that those who followed it would attain eternal life. No one knew when this heretical religion emerged, but its followers continued to grow in number. Among these deathsworn, one of them was a Jiulian Sect believer.

 

Since Mu Peixuan said life and death were of no concern, Liu Sanjiu had shown no mercy, and by the time those confessions were obtained, the ghost-masked men’s pupils had already dilated, their bodies drenched in blood. One of them, in his final moments, suddenly regained a flash of clarity, raving deliriously, ‘Just wait, Shengzun[mfn]Holy Lord[/mfn] will lead us to purge the world of its corruption. You, the lackeys of Daliang, will not have a good death.’

 

After saying that, the man collapsed on the ground, calling out “Shengzun” a few times, his face full of reverence, before widening his eyes and dying.

 

Mu Peixuan furrowed his brows tightly. He had heard of the Jiulian Sect before; it was a matter from the previous year. Last year, a flood in Ruizhou caused the Qing River to overflow, inundating much of Ruizhou and severely affecting the surrounding counties.

 

When Mu Peixuan and Xu Ying led a guard to assist with the disaster relief, they saw more than ten people worshiping a statue of Buddha. After observing for a moment, he asked, “What Buddha are they worshiping?”

 

Xu Ying rode forward to ask, and the villagers, trembling, replied that they were worshiping the Jiulian Holy Lord.

 

Xu Ying immediately laughed and said, “What kind of Buddha is the Jiulian Holy Lord?”

 

His tone was too casual, which displeased the villagers, though they didn’t dare to express their frustration. One of the older villagers spoke up, saying, “You gentlemen may be unaware, but the Shengzun is the world’s blessing. We dare not provoke his wrath like this.”

 

Xu Ying rubbed his nose and later remarked, “I think it’s just some scam artist who appeared out of nowhere, deceiving these ignorant villagers.”

 

Mu Peixuan didn’t give the matter much thought either.

 

If the uprising in Fengzhou was being secretly incited by this so-called Jiulian Sect — Mu Peixuan’s face instantly darkened. He turned to Zhou Xing and said, “Prepare the horses, we’re going to the yamen.”

 

Mu Peixuan had once heard of how, in the previous dynasty, heretical sects had risen in rebellion. They hid behind the common people, manipulating them for their own purposes, making it difficult to defend against.

 

From this, it seemed that Ruizhou might also have Jiulian Sect followers.