Chapter Eight: Master? Grand Tutor?

In just half a day, the entire order of the Eastern Capital had been upended. Not only did the bloodstains on Chang’an Street remain uncleared, but even the Grand Ceremonial Office, the Divine Strategy Command, the Ministry of War, the Imperial Clan Office, and the royal family within the grand Ming Palace were all shaken by the bloody massacre that had unfolded before the Shangguan residence.

At the far end of Hundred Flowers Alley stood a cluster of black buildings, looming like a man-eating demon. Every so often, bone-chilling screams could be heard, accompanied by muffled thuds. This was the Imperial Clan Office, charged with watching over the empire for the royal family. Only here could both the crimes of high ministers and the faults of the lowest palace maids and eunuchs—even royal princes and consorts—be judged and punished. None, once summoned to the Hall of Justice, could escape its reach.

Deep within, past a long corridor, stood a humble thatched hut, incongruous amidst the imposing halls of the front compound. Yet it was this unremarkable hut that struck such dread into the hearts of many in the Eastern Capital—so much so that few dared mention it at all.

Its wooden door, old and half-ajar, revealed a white-robed man inside, his back to the entrance, bent over his desk writing.

“Lord Commander, I have a matter to report,” a man prostrated himself seven steps from the hut, his voice trembling with anxiety.

“Speak,” came a voice from within: flat, yet laced with undeniable authority.

“Today, Xu Changhai of the Divine Strategy Command…” The man began, recounting in detail the events on Chang’an Street before the Shangguan residence.

“Lord, Xu Changhai has become utterly lawless—relying on his status as one of the Eight Great Generals, he dared to privately mobilize the Divine Strategy cavalry, killing openly in front of a first-rank military marquis’s mansion, and even crippling Shangguan Hong’s cultivation. What’s more, a youth among them cut down the Divine Strategy’s banner—personally gifted by His Majesty—which stood before the Shangguan gates. According to our spies, both Grand General Yang Ning and General Xu Changhai addressed the youth as ‘Young Lord of the House.’”

After finishing, the man furtively studied the white-robed commander’s expression. Yet the lord inside seemed indifferent to these affairs, asking calmly, “Rise. Since the Divine Strategy Command struck first, in your view, how should this matter be dealt with?”

“All those involved from Divine Strategy should be detained in the Imperial Clan Office, awaiting His Majesty’s written decree, and severely punished!” The man outside replied seriously, raising his head.

“Impossible,” the commander’s voice drifted out, unruffled. “The tension between Divine Strategy and Sacred Strategy is such that even Lord Sacrificial Wine dare not intervene—let alone His Majesty? To the Emperor, these matters are trifling. As for the so-called Young Lord—if Xu Changhai says he is, then so be it. For the future heir of the Divine Strategy Command to cut down a Sacred Strategy banner is no great affair. And if Shangguan Rui’s cultivation is crippled? So long as those old, reclusive figures from both sides remain uninvolved, it is all a trivial skirmish. The Imperial Clan Office need not meddle.”

The commander’s voice was as calm as a still lake, betraying no emotion. The man outside was taken aback. The office truly intended to ignore a street battle between two of the court’s greatest factions?

“But, my lord, if Divine Strategy continues unchecked, it will severely undermine the royal family’s prestige! And what of the Shangguan clan and Sacred Strategy—how will we answer to them?” The man wanted to say more, but the white-robed commander curtly interrupted, “That is not your concern. Remember: aside from reporting to His Majesty, the Imperial Clan Office owes no explanations to anyone. You can’t even see the purpose behind this affair, yet you dare want to interfere? Do you know who this Young Lord is? He is the Grand Preceptor’s disciple. Before visiting the Shangguan residence, he sent two letters to different locations—one of which went to the Grand Ceremonial Office. Wang Huai, if you value your life, go ahead and try to arrest anyone from the Divine Strategy Command.”

The commander’s voice was ice-cold, tinged with menace and impatience.

Wang Huai gasped. He had served in the Imperial Clan Office for a century. He knew much, if not all, of the Grand Preceptor’s history—especially that night sixteen years ago, when the Grand Preceptor, sword in hand, cut his way from one end of Chang’an Street to the other, erasing the mansions of countless nobles from existence, including those of three princely houses. Even so, the royal family had not uttered a word, and the Grand Preceptor’s post remained unchallenged in the Grand Ceremonial Office to this day.

“The Grand Preceptor… It seems the Eastern Capital is about to enter another period of unrest.” Only now did Wang Huai sense the bloody tide of violence quietly spreading through the city. The undercurrents within the Eastern Capital were beginning to surge…

In the great hall of the Divine Strategy Command, Li Fu sat in the second seat at the center, somewhat at a loss as he looked at the assembled crowd. The hall was packed, but neither Xu Changhai nor Yang Ning were present; most faces belonged to young officers. The two highest seats remained empty, as did the eight grand armchairs at the foot of the dais. Only Yang Zixu stood nearby; after a simple bandaging, his injuries were not serious.

“Are you truly the Grand Preceptor’s disciple?” Yang Zixu stood at attention beside him, lips barely moving as he whispered.

“Didn’t I tell you on the way here? How should I know if my master is really the Grand Preceptor…” Li Fu himself was utterly confused and had no answer for Yang Zixu’s questions.

“Then why did General Xu and Brother Yang Ning call you Young Lord?” Yang Zixu pressed on, unwilling to let the matter drop.

“Shut up and let me think for a moment, will you?” Li Fu rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“Of course I can, but only if you tell me—why do they call you Young Lord? And what exactly did you write in that letter you gave General Xu?” Yang Zixu was relentless in his questioning, ignoring Li Fu’s glare.

“I’m as clueless as you are! Can’t you just be quiet and let me sort things out?” Li Fu waved him off impatiently, refusing to engage further.

Truthfully, Li Fu’s own mind was awash with questions. Why had his master instructed him to cut down the banner? And how could the old man be so certain that the Divine Strategy Command would come to his rescue? Was he truly, as General Xu claimed, the Young Lord of the Divine Strategy Command?

And what was the real identity of his master? The Grand Preceptor? Xu Changhai had indeed declared him a disciple of the Grand Preceptor before the Shangguan gates. But why would the Grand Preceptor, holding so lofty a position, hide himself for decades in the countryside instead of serving openly in court?

Riddle after riddle flashed through Li Fu’s mind, leaving him utterly lost.

At that moment, Xu Changhai, Yang Ning, and three other generals entered the hall from a side door, carrying a letter that Li Fu immediately recognized as the one he had delivered that morning to the residence of the Loyal and Mighty General.

Xu Changhai bowed respectfully to him, which took Li Fu aback—he hurried to his feet to return the salute. Before he could rise, Yang Ning signaled Yang Zixu, who deftly pressed Li Fu back into his seat.

“Today, I have gathered you all here to announce an important matter. The Young Lord of the Divine Strategy Command has returned!” Xu Changhai straightened up, facing the assembled officers with a voice both commanding and resonant.

“He says so, but does that make it true?” came a mocking voice from the crowd, questioning Xu Changhai. “General Xu, what proof do you have that he is the Young Lord? As far as I know, the Chief has never married—where would a Young Lord come from?”