Chapter Thirty-Four: Power Intensified

He Zhizhang’s certainty was not without cause. Chang Yuankai, in his early years, served as the Commander of the Shuofang Army, overseeing military affairs in the north. At that time, seeking to provide his son Chang Hao with the best education, Chang Yuankai hired a renowned local scholar. But Chang Hao, being incorrigible, preferred riding and hawking to books and learning. He soon provoked the scholar’s ire and was expelled from his tutelage. Feeling humiliated, Chang Hao set his dogs on the scholar and ordered his men to beat the man so savagely that the scholar was left crippled.

The incident caused quite a stir. Though Chang Yuankai used his power to suppress the scandal, he could not silence the whispers of the world. From then on, no reputable scholar was willing to become Chang Hao’s tutor.

Later, when Chang Yuankai was recalled to the capital as Grand General of the Imperial Guards, Chang Hao became even more reckless, emboldened by his father’s position to commit all manner of outrageous acts. The notion that such a man could ever reform himself might have been credible to He Zhizhang, but to suggest that Chang Hao, a notorious wastrel, could produce an impeccable examination paper equal to that of a seasoned scholar or offer insights on statecraft rivaling those of an experienced official—this, He Zhizhang could not believe.

He Zhizhang’s words poured over Chang Hao like a bucket of cold water, making him shudder from head to toe. Unlike Lu Ze and Feng Zhi, who were genuinely learned and could, with exam questions in hand, consult their books and rely on their own knowledge to craft excellent answers, Chang Hao was the very epitome of a hopeless student. Even with the books before him, he could not pass muster. Upon getting the test questions through illicit means, his first thought was not to seek the answers himself, but to enlist someone else’s help. As the matter could not be made public, he had no choice but to turn to his father, who, for the sake of his inept son, spared no effort and sought out Chancellor Cui Shi.

Cui Shi, scion of the preeminent Cui family and currently serving as Chancellor—a former top scorer in the imperial examinations—privately looked down on Chang Yuankai. Yet he clearly understood Chang Yuankai’s value in the current political climate: as Grand General of the Left Imperial Guards, Chang Yuankai commanded the northern palace troops, responsible for guarding the northern approach to the palace. Meanwhile, the Ministry of Appointments was already firmly in Princess Taiping’s hands, and the southern palace troops were her personal blade. As long as Chang Yuankai remained loyal to Princess Taiping, she would effectively control both northern and southern palace troops—a great boon to her ambitions.

Thus, Cui Shi readily agreed to Chang Yuankai’s request and personally wrote all the answers. For the classics and histories, he consulted the texts and composed flawless responses word by word; for poetry, he spent three days crafting the verses; and for the policy essay, as a high official, he naturally had unique insights on river management and border defense. All Chang Hao had to do was memorize the answers.

This affair was closely guarded, but now, with someone exposing it so plainly, Chang Hao’s guilty conscience was obvious. He barked, “What nonsense! I conduct myself with honor. If you slander me again, I’ll tear your mouth to shreds…” Even as he spoke, his bravado was fading. He stepped forward and, coming closer, recognized He Zhizhang, exclaiming in shock and anger, “He Zhizhang?”

He Zhizhang sneered coldly once more. “Indeed, it is I. Weren’t you looking for me to demand an explanation? Then let me be clear: your essay score has been annulled—by my hand.”

Chang Hao’s mind erupted in fury. He reached out to drag He Zhizhang from his horse, shouting, “A mere petty official, not only corrupt but now annulling my score? I’ll make you—” But before he could finish, he found himself unceremoniously dumped on the ground. He Zhizhang, a skilled horseman, had pulled the reins and dodged Chang Hao’s attack, his mount sidestepping just enough to knock Chang Hao over.

Seething on the ground, Chang Hao roared, “How dare you strike me! Beat him! Beat him soundly!”

The thugs accompanying Chang Hao, eager to prove themselves and win favor, needed no further invitation. At once, several charged toward He Zhizhang.

Feng Asan was the first to rush in, shouting, “How dare you bully our young master! I, Feng Asan, will not stand for it!” Trying to show his mettle, he even announced his name, swinging his guard’s cudgel at He Zhizhang’s arm with all his might. He calculated carefully—his blow would not kill, but would appear serious enough to intimidate.

As he imagined the effect his blow would have, Feng Asan’s brutish features twisted into a grimace. But before his cudgel could land, a sharp pain shot through his abdomen and, as if flying through clouds, he was sent hurtling through the air.

Only then did Feng Asan realize that someone had appeared in front of He Zhizhang’s horse—a man who, with a single kick, had sent him flying.

The newcomer was Pei Min. He Zhizhang had sent word early that morning, saying he would return that night and that wine should be readied to reward their efforts. Curious about the exam results, Pei Min and Zhang Xu had been chatting and waiting. Around midnight, Pei Min faintly heard He Zhizhang’s voice. Curious, he stepped out, and upon reaching the gate, saw a crowd harassing He Zhizhang in the street corner. Without hesitation, he rushed to help, arriving just in time.

After delivering the kick, Pei Min felt a tinge of surprise. He had never considered himself particularly strong, yet this kick had sent a man weighing over a hundred pounds flying—a most unexpected result.

Before he could reflect further, another guard lunged at him with a cudgel aimed straight for his chest. With He Zhizhang behind him, Pei Min could not evade, so he resolved to take the blow head-on. He grabbed the tip of the cudgel, intending to deflect the force. But to his astonishment, as soon as he applied his technique, the weapon was wrenched from his opponent’s grasp.

Pei Min was once again dumbfounded—the strength in his body felt entirely unfamiliar.

A master swordsman is intimately attuned to his own strength, yet Pei Min now found himself unable to gauge his power. It was as if he had been suddenly enlightened, his strength now entirely different from before.

For the past three months, Pei Min had been occupied with the imperial examinations, neglecting his sword practice. His skills were so advanced that this temporary lapse should not have resulted in any decline, let alone a sudden increase in strength. He recalled the regimen of health practices passed down by Sun Simiao, which he had practiced every morning without fail to ward off cold.

Could it be…?

A sudden thought struck Pei Min. Gripping both ends of the guard’s cudgel, he exerted force, and the pole—thick as a child’s wrist—snapped cleanly in two.

The shorter segment matched the length of his cherished three-foot sword. Surveying the uncertain, hesitant thugs before him, he charged forward.

Wielding the broken stick like a blade, he plunged into the crowd like a tiger among sheep, scattering a dozen guards in panic and chaos, their cries echoing through the night.

At that moment, a middle-aged man in the uniform of a constable burst into the fray. Without so much as asking questions, he drew his sword and lunged straight at Pei Min, the blade flashing coldly for the kill.