Volume One: Supervisors and Students Chapter Two: The Political Correctness of the Ming Dynasty

Jinyiwei?

Hearing this identity, Huang Ming couldn’t help but feel his heart tighten. As someone with some knowledge of Ming dynasty history, he naturally knew this infamous secret organization by reputation. Oh, my father is Huang Jin, so he should count as one of their own—then there’s nothing to worry about...

At the same time, Huang Bingkun added, “I am a man of Eunuch Huang, and it is my duty to ensure your safety, Young Master Huang.”

As they spoke, the group strode forward, nearly out of the not-so-large prison. Just as they reached the entrance, however, several people blocked their path. At the forefront stood a middle-aged man in a blue official robe, his face dark as he sternly questioned, “Who are you to be so bold, daring to remove a major criminal from the Southern City Commandery without approval?”

His imposing presence swept over the group, and as he glanced at the guards, they all lowered their heads, not daring to breathe loudly.

Huang Bingkun frowned at the sight of this man, but quickly forced a smile. “So, Censor Zhou is here. It’s late—haven’t you gone home yet?”

Censor Zhou ignored the question, continuing to stare at Huang Bingkun and the young Huang Ming beside him, exerting pressure and demanding an answer.

Seeing the situation, Huang Bingkun could only muster the courage to reply, “Today’s case at noon concerns the stability of the capital and is related to the White Lotus rebel sect. As Jinyiwei, we must investigate thoroughly, which is why we have come to take the relevant person.”

“So, you’re with the Jinyiwei. No wonder you act so recklessly!” Censor Zhou sneered coldly, suddenly stretching out a hand. “Hand it over!”

“What?”

“The travel permit, of course. Without it, why should the Jinyiwei have the right to take prisoners from other offices?” Lord Zhou replied icily, causing the faces of the Jinyiwei officers to stiffen.

To most people, the Jinyiwei enjoyed enormous privileges in their investigations and arrests, not needing paperwork or approval like other officials. But in truth, only a select few had such unchecked power; usually, they needed proper procedures—namely, the travel permit. Of course, in many cases, no one dared demand to see it.

But Lord Zhou now reached out for it, clearly confident they couldn’t refuse.

Even worse, the Jinyiwei officers really didn’t have the permit. Their hearts faltered, their expressions changing accordingly.

This shift was immediately noticed not only by Lord Zhou, but also by Huang Ming, who sensed trouble.

“No travel permit? Then you may not take this man!” Lord Zhou declared firmly, pointing at Huang Ming. “Guards, seize this important suspect and return him to his cell. Wait for the relevant officials from the Shuntian Prefecture and the Ministry of Justice to interrogate him!”

He deliberately named those two powerful law offices, intending to pressure the Jinyiwei representatives.

With such authority behind him, the soldiers quickly stepped forward, ready to seize them, about to push the Jinyiwei aside.

“Impudent! Who dares to obstruct the Jinyiwei? Do you really think we’re easy to deal with?” The Jinyiwei captain, now furious, gripped his waist and drew half his blade. “Let’s see who dares come forward!”

This action startled the soldiers, making them hesitate. The Jinyiwei’s infamy was not something lowly troops could challenge.

Yet before the Jinyiwei could act, Lord Zhou shouted harshly, “Insolence! This is the Southern City Commandery—a critical site. How dare you cause trouble here!

“I now have reason to suspect you’re not Jinyiwei at all, but criminals in disguise, attempting to rescue a prisoner under the pretense of chaos!

“Guards, arrest them all! If they resist, execute them. Even if they are truly Jinyiwei, entering the commandery prison without a permit and attempting a jailbreak is a capital offense!”

With the official’s orders and encouragement, the soldiers' courage surged.

Yes, times had changed.

No longer were the secret police untouchable, forcing even ministers to step aside. What was there to fear?

Immediately, they raised their weapons, poised to attack, spreading out to surround Huang Ming and the other three.

Now, the Jinyiwei captain and his two subordinates were thoroughly at a loss, finally realizing the times had indeed changed. It was no longer the era of Emperor Zhengde’s rule.

The new emperor, influenced by the ministers who supported his ascension, was steadily distancing himself from the secret police, stripping their power. If they resisted now, they’d gain nothing.

“I’ll give you one last chance. Surrender the suspect and leave, or none of you will walk out!” Lord Zhou pressed again, raising a hand, signaling he could order an attack at any moment.

What should they do?

The Jinyiwei captain was torn.

If he surrendered and left the suspect behind, the reputation of himself and the Jinyiwei would be ruined, though the secret police were already waning. But the key issue was the suspect was the son of Eunuch Huang—any mishap would be unbearable.

As he struggled in vain, a voice sounded from behind him: “Wait!”

That voice… Huang Bingkun turned in surprise, seeing Huang Ming break free from their support, step forward, and face Lord Zhou directly. “I have a few words to say.”

He had realized that, for all their supposed prestige, the Jinyiwei meant little to this censor.

The secret police had always been despised and excluded by mainstream officialdom, and now, with their patron gone, their power had diminished further.

Therefore, relying on them to get him out was futile—he had to save himself.

“Is this your place to speak? A criminal who colluded with bandits, caused chaos in the capital, and assisted the escape of the infamous Skyward Tiger…” Lord Zhou sneered.

“Do you have evidence?” Huang Ming retorted loudly.

“What?”

“I ask, you repeatedly claim I colluded with bandits and assisted the escape of a major criminal—do you have proof of these accusations? I am a sixteen-year-old boy, unable to harm even a chicken. How could I possibly commit such acts?” Huang Ming raised his hands for all to see his frail body.

As the official could not answer, Huang Ming stepped forward and spoke loudly, “Besides, what benefit would I gain from such actions? There is nothing for me to gain!”

“Who knows what motives a eunuch’s son might have? People like you are good for nothing but evil!” A voice came from behind Lord Zhou, another official accompanying him, his tone full of contempt.

Huang Ming arched his brow—at last, he grasped the crux of the matter.

He had always wondered why a sixteen-year-old boy would be drawn into such a major case, treated as a major suspect and imprisoned. Now he understood.

It was about identity. It was about the Ming dynasty’s own political correctness.