027 Shift the Blame onto the Plain Blue Banner!
"My lord, are you alright?" Jiang Nan asked, her expression tense.
"Ah, nothing to worry about; just a narrow escape."
Two assassins lay at his feet—one dead, one wounded. Jiang Qingyun walked over and pressed his blade against the throat of the survivor.
"Why did you attempt to assassinate me?"
"You corrupt official, the Axe Gang won't let you off! You won't be this lucky next time."
Jiang Qingyun looked thoughtful for a moment, then pressed his blade down, ending the assassin's life.
Silencing him!
Jiang Nan, standing nearby, wore a complex expression, but she knew this was not the time to ask questions. She would wait until they returned to the estate.
...
Soldiers gathered in increasing numbers.
Only then did Jiang Qingyun heave a sigh of relief, inwardly congratulating himself on his caution. His armor was damaged at the chest, likely from the initial axe throw. Public speaking, he realized, was indeed a high-risk endeavor.
"Men of the Gendarmerie, listen up! Search the entire city for the assassins!"
"Yes, sir!"
The scene was chaotic.
Jiang Qingyun found Zhao Zesheng and whispered, "No matter what, you must bring me a few suspects today."
Zhao Zesheng understood immediately, dropping to one knee to accept the order. Zhou Cang, standing by, caught the implication as well.
The Master was looking to frame others, to stir up trouble. The phrasing might not have been precise, but the logic was sound.
Half an hour later...
The West City Gendarmerie arrived.
An hour later...
The Daxing and Wanping County offices also deployed their bailiffs, shouting and bustling about as they rounded people up.
As the storm broke over the South City, opportunistic rogues emerged from every corner.
...
The West City Gendarmerie ran about the most enthusiastically and shouted the loudest, but they didn't actually arrest anyone.
The Daxing bailiffs rounded up seven suspects, and the Wanping bailiffs caught twelve. Among the suspects were men, women, the elderly, and the young; the only thing they had in common was that they were all slightly well-off.
Jiang Qingyun had to accept this "favor," feeling as though he were being played for a fool.
Yan Mou had escaped, though he was struck in the back by an arrow.
It was no small feat that he managed to get away; it was all thanks to his gang brothers' unconventional methods—they stuffed him into a dung cart to pass through the city gate. He was safe, of course, but infection was inevitable.
Following this turmoil, the Axe Gang temporarily vanished from the South City, and their leaders voluntarily withdrew from the Tongzhou docks.
In short, the incident had a massive impact.
Everyone in the capital knew about it.
...
Jiang Qingyun, at the center of the whirlpool, did not rest for a moment, interrogating the six "suspects" brought in by his men throughout the night.
Zhao Zesheng had served as an official in the South City for a long time and knew the situation inside out. He had rounded up "lone wolves" of the underworld—men with no homes, no families, and no relatives—a group of petty criminals.
These were the easiest people to frame.
"Give me the whip."
Pig-like squeals echoed through the prison.
The others looked at their seemingly out-of-control Master, bewildered.
After dozens of lashes...
"Men, keep beating them! We must get to the bottom of the mastermind."
"Yes, sir!"
...
Jiang Qingyun brought a chair and sat to oversee the scene personally.
Zhao Zesheng hesitated for a moment before leaning in to whisper, "My lord, who do you suspect sent the assassins?"
"It is highly likely the work of factions within the Banners."
"Ah?"
"Indeed. A group of conspirators plotting against the Emperor is hidden within the Eight Banners. These people are deeply entrenched, hold high official ranks, and have many followers. *Cough*, but I cannot reveal my source of intelligence to you. Do you understand?"
Zhao Zesheng’s expression turned solemn, and he nodded repeatedly.
He recalled the rumors of the Master’s chance encounter with the Emperor.
So that was it.
Jiang Qingyun took in the change in his expression, dipped his finger in his tea, and wrote "Kerkun, Niulu Zhangjing of the Bordered Blue Banner" on the table.
He patted Zhao Zesheng on the shoulder and left with a meaningful look.
Back home, time to sleep.
At seventeen, it was the perfect age for self-care.
...
The interrogation lasted until dawn the next day.
Fan Chengmo, the Censor of the South City, along with Magistrate Wu Jinyan of Daxing and Magistrate Shang Zhou of Wanping, were invited to listen to the suspects' confessions.
The suspects, beaten into bloody pulps, spoke in weak, trembling voices as they recalled their "crimes":
"...Kerkun, the Zhangjing of the Bordered Blue Banner, gave me 100 taels of gold to find a chance to kill Master Jiang Qingyun. I don't know what grudge they have between them; I only know this..."
The three officials were struck with terror, wishing they could become deaf.
Kerkun and Urt were close friends! They had fought side-by-side; their bond was one of life and death.
Fan Chengmo was particularly shocked. Only now did he understand why his father had repeatedly warned him to be wary of Jiang Qingyun and to transfer departments as soon as possible to leave the vortex of the South City.
Zhao Zesheng nodded.
The jailers immediately dragged the man away and brought in another.
"...My lord, I confess. I took 30 taels of silver from Tan Er to help him kill someone, but I didn't actually do it. Please, spare my life..."
"...My lord, I was blinded by greed, I took 10 taels from Tan Er to act as a lookout..."
Within the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, four suspects had confessed everything.
...
Zhao Zesheng respectfully held the confession, covered in fresh fingerprints, and walked over.
"Censor Fan, Magistrate Shang, Magistrate Wu, please take a look. If there are no errors, please sign here."
...
Fan Chengmo jumped, waving his hands hurriedly. "No, no, I cannot sign this. This whole affair was orchestrated by your Master Jiang; it has nothing to do with me."
Magistrates Shang and Wu echoed his sentiments.
Zhao Zesheng was, after all, of a lower rank; he couldn't force the three superiors to sign at knifepoint.
He could only smile awkwardly. "My lords, please wait a moment. My master will be here shortly."
He shouldn't have said that; it only served as a reminder to the three men.
They sprang up from their chairs and headed straight for the exit, desperate to leave this place of trouble. Zhao Zesheng tried to stop them, and in the ensuing struggle, they stumbled all the way to the prison gate.
...
At the prison entrance, under the sunlight, a figure blocked the path.
Zhao Zesheng was overjoyed. "My lord, you’ve finally arrived."
Jiang Qingyun was not in his official robes, but in hunting attire with a sword at his waist. He walked into the prison step by step.
The passage was narrow, forcing the three men to retreat continuously.
"Censor Fan, you are the Censor of the South City, the high official sent by the Censorate to supervise the Gendarmerie. How can you even think of staying out of this? Or do you doubt the veracity of these confessions?"
"Master Jiang, this is simply too sensational. Kerkun Zhangjing is the trusted favorite of Prince Raoyu. This, this..."
"Censor Fan, Prince Raoyu Abatai is already dead. Would you like to go down and invite him up to prove that Kerkun is loyal to the Great Qing and the Emperor?"
Fan Chengmo fell silent.
He was rendered speechless. Every word from Jiang Qingyun was a trap, and he dared not respond.
...
Jiang Qingyun’s tone turned sinister as he handed over a brush.
"Censor Fan, you can either sign as a witness or sign to state that you do not recognize my methods. I can tell you that everything that happened yesterday and today will reach the Emperor exactly as it occurred. Right and wrong will eventually be settled."
"Time is short and the task is heavy. Will the three of you please?"
Fan Chengmo took the brush, which felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, and reluctantly wrote: "The above testimony is all heard by my own ears. Censor of the Censorate, Fan."
The other two, with miserable expressions, followed suit.
Zhao Zesheng, standing to the side, felt his blood boiling. He couldn't help but think his master was truly formidable.
"Thank you for your hard work, the three of you."
"Farewell, farewell."
The three men fled as if pursued by ghosts, hurrying out of the prison.