Chapter 56: The Prisoner's Dilemma

Blood, test, bone!
These four words felt like four death warrants, nailing themselves fiercely into the hearts of Chen Yong, his wife, and Liu Biao.
The entire Golden Throne Hall fell into an eerie, dead silence.
"Nonsense!"
Chen Ziang was the first to react. He pointed at Zhao Yi as if looking at a complete madman.
"Proving paternity by blood involves taking blood from a living person and dripping it onto dry bones; if the blood enters the bone, they are kin. Even this method has always been fraught with controversy! And now you claim you want living blood to recognize a pile of flying ashes mixed in pottery clay?"
"Zhao Yi! You are merely playing the ghost, fooling His Majesty and making a mockery of all the civil and military officials!"
"Oh?" Carrying the black earthen jar, Zhao Yi strolled leisurely toward the basin of clear water, not even looking back as he said, "Lord Chen, you only know the surface, not the depth."
He gently placed the earthen jar into the clear water, and the pitch-black vessel instantly sank to the bottom.
"Why is a living person alive? Because they have blood."
"Why is blood alive? Because within the blood hides a person's vital essence—their soul!"
"When a person dies, the soul disperses, but that vital essence remains in the bones, lingering for forty-nine days without completely dissipating!"
"Chen Yong, let me ask you: from the moment the person died to the time they were baked into pottery, how many days passed?"
Zhao Yi's words were like a needle, striking straight at Chen Yong's fatal weakness.
Chen Yong's chubby face turned instantly pale. His lips trembled, unable to utter a single syllable.
His wife, Mrs. Chen Li, was even more terrified. Her legs went weak, and she collapsed directly onto the floor.
Ignoring them entirely, Zhao Yi continued expounding his "scientific theory."
"The vital essence in the bones was scorched by temperatures of over a thousand degrees, and yes, most of it dispersed. But a tiny fraction would have fused indissolubly with the pottery clay!"
"This fusion is invisible to the naked eye, but it is right there!"
"And the blood of direct blood relatives contains that exact same vital essence! All I need to do is summon the biological daughter of the deceased, Qin San, and have her drop a single drop of blood into this basin of water."
Zhao Yi extended a finger and tapped the crystal-clear water.
"That drop of blood will seem as though it has grown eyes; it will seek out that earthen jar on its own, seeking the place that carries its father's vital essence!"
"When that happens, the blood will seep into the jar, and the water color... will naturally turn red!"
"This shall be ironclad proof!"
Zhao Yi spoke with absolute finality, every word ringing with conviction.
The civil and military officials stood dumbfounded, listening in utter bewilderment.
This entire theory was something they had never heard of before, yet somehow... it strangely made a lot of sense!
Especially Chen Yong and his wife, who were mere country bumpkins—how could they have ever encountered such a notion? To them, what Zhao Yi was saying was not reason at all, but a death curse summoned straight from the netherworld.
In this instant, Chen Yong's psychological defense line completely shattered.
He felt as though he could already see that basin of water transforming right before his eyes into a blood-red abyss of hell!
Just when everyone assumed Zhao Yi was about to summon Qin's daughter into the hall to perform "magic" on the spot, Zhao Yi suddenly stopped.
He gazed at the earthen jar in the water, a look of profound reluctance crossing his face.
"Alas."
He heaved a long sigh.
"Forget it."
He turned around and bowed deeply toward Wu Mingkong upon the dragon throne.
"Your Majesty, the deceased deserve the utmost respect. Qin San has already been left without a complete corpse, and his soul is further imprisoned within this filthy vessel—that is tragedy enough. Your servant truly cannot bear to employ such methods to disturb his departed spirit."
At this, everyone was utterly bewildered.
The test is off?
You spent all that time building it up, making oaths and swearing vows, and now you say you're not going to test it?
Chen Ziang's aged face showed stunned disbelief first, followed by wild joy!
He understood! Zhao Yi was just bluffing! He didn't know any damn "bone-blood testing" at all!
"Zhao Yi!" Chen Ziang was about to launch into an attack.
But Zhao Yi preempted him, speaking in a tone filled with benevolent compassion.
"Though we cannot test the bones, the truth must never be covered up!"
He whirled around sharply, pointing a finger at Chen Yong and his wife, who were practically frightened out of their wits.
"Your Majesty! This servant begs for an imperial decree to detain these two separately and interrogate them apart!"
"This servant refuses to believe that there are truly undying lovers in this world willing to live and die together!"
"The moment one of them breaks and confesses, in order to save their own skin, they will shift all the blame onto the other! When that time comes, the truth will naturally come to light!"
"Your Majesty, this is known as... the Prisoner's Dilemma!"
Upon the dragon throne, Wu Mingkong watched Zhao Yi performing with such immense zest down below, a trace of imperceptible amusement flashing across her gorgeous phoenix eyes.
She understood now.
This scoundrel had never intended to solve the case using that so-called "bone-blood test" from the very beginning.
Every single piece of foreshadowing, all that supernatural posturing, had served only one single purpose.
To break their minds!
First, he used an unheard-of "scientific theory" to completely demolish the murderers' psychological defenses, plunging them into a massive terror of the unknown.
Then, he cast out this "Prisoner's Dilemma."
This was his true lethal strike!
Interlocking links, advancing step by step.
This Zhao Yi—he was wicked, but his wickedness was... rather admirable to her.
"Granted."
Wu Mingkong spoke calmly.
" Guards! Take Chen Yong to the side hall! The rest of shall remain in the main hall and await further orders!"
"No! Don't!"
Hearing that they were to be separated, Mrs. Chen Li let out a piercing shriek. She tried to lunge forward to grab her husband, but was forcefully pinned down by two imperial guards.
As Chen Yong was dragged away, his entire body had gone limp like a puddle of mud. His chubby face was drained of even a shred of color, and his eyes were filled with utter despair and terror.
He looked back once at his wife.
That glance was laden with profound meaning.
Standing to the side, Liu Biao was already drenched in cold sweat from head to toe.
He looked at Zhao Yi; this young man's methods were simply too ruthless!
Chen Ziang's heart had also sunk to the very bottom.
He knew it was over.
...
The side hall.
Only Zhao Yi and Chen Yong remained.
Zhao Yi sat boldly in an armchair, sipping leisurely from a cup of tea brought by a eunuch, without even sparing a glance at Chen Yong, who was kneeling on the floor and shivering uncontrollably.
"Chen Yong."
After a long while, Zhao Yi finally set down his teacup and spoke lazily.
"You know what? I happen to believe very strongly in true love."
Chen Yong jerked his head up, looking at him uncomprehendingly.
"Especially couples like you two, who can commit murder together, dump the corpse together, and fire pottery together—that kind of affection, tsk tsk, must certainly be more genuine than gold."
A harmless, amiable smile hung upon Zhao Yi's face.
"So, I am extremely curious to see just how much that wife of yours truly loves you."
"I have given her a chance."
"As long as she stands in the Golden Throne Hall right now and takes all the blame upon herself alone—claiming she committed the murder, dumped the body, and masterminded the whole thing, having nothing whatsoever to do with you, Chen Yong—"
"I will release you on the spot."
"Not only will I release you, but I will also memorialize His Majesty, declaring that you, Chen Yong, showed righteousness above family and performed a great service! I will reward you with a hundred liang of gold, ensuring you live out the rest of your days free from worry over food and clothing, and taking an eighteen-year-old maiden as a bride won't even be a problem."
With every sentence Zhao Yi uttered, Chen Yong's complexion grew a shade paler.
"Of course," Zhao Yi changed the subject, his smile turning abruptly bone-chilling.
"This chance is also offered to you."
"As long as you confess right now and pin everything on her, you will likewise have performed a great meritorious service."
"As for her..."
"Murdering her husband—no, murdering a merchant—she shall face death by a thousand cuts, her bones shall be ground to dust, and her soul shall never find redemption!"
"Make your choice."
Zhao Yi leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.
"By the way, a word of advice: there is only one chance. Whoever speaks first lives. If you're late, there will be nothing left."
"I... I didn't do it!" A roar like that of a trapped beast burst from Chen Yong's throat. "I didn't do anything! I didn't kill him! It was... it was Qin San himself! He was drunk and fell into the kiln and burned to death! It has nothing to do with us!"
"Oh?" Zhao Yi arched an eyebrow. "And those three knife wounds on his shins—did he carve those himself, too?"
Chen Yong's body stiffened abruptly.
Just when Zhao Yi thought he was about to confess, Chen Yong suddenly fell silent.
He knelt there with his head lowered, his plump body heaving violently as if undergoing some agonizing internal battle.
Zhao Yi waited a moment, and seeing that Chen Yong still refused to speak, he was not in the least bit anxious.
Unexpectedly, he stood up and stretched lazily.
"Very well, it seems your love for your wife is truly deep. I'm going outside to smoke a cigarette; think it over carefully."
With that, he actually strolled right out of the side hall.
The moment he stepped outside, he saw that Wu Mingkong was already standing waiting in the courtyard.
"Well? Couldn't get a confession out of him?" Wu Mingkong looked at him.
"Almost." Zhao Yi grinned.
He stepped closer to Wu Mingkong and lowered his voice.
"Your Majesty, what do you think is the most agonizing thing in this world?"
Wu Mingkong said nothing, merely watching him.
"It is waiting."
A fox-like glint flickered in Zhao Yi's eyes.
"Especially in a confined space, waiting for an unknown judgment that determines your life or death."
"That Mrs. Chen Li is inside the Golden Throne Hall, unable to see or hear. Right now, there is only one thought in her head."
"Did my husband confess?"
"Will he sell me out just to save his own skin?"
"The longer I stay outside, the tighter that string in her heart pulls."
"Once that string snaps on its own, I won't even need to interrogate her—she'll confess to everything."
Zhao Yi finished and let out a smug chuckle.
"Your Majesty, this is known as... psychological game theory."