Chapter 396: Imperial Prison Interrogation

Chapter 396 – The Edict of Imprisonment

A corridor carved in the style of the earlier Ming dynasty gleamed with dim light, its two sides lined with countless symmetrical rooms. On the doors of each room, a single image dominated: the fierce visage of a lion’s head, carved with unyielding precision. This was the visage of the Shiba.

The Shiba.

Between the doors of each room lay a colossal wall, halfway across, housing a shrine within. Within its sacred space, three divine statues were enshrined.

At the center of the chamber sat the spirit of the jailor, an old man with a gentle smile, his eyes radiating kindness.

Alongside him, two small, monstrous figures loomed, their eyes burning red with malice. Their gaze swept across the room, eyes never leaving the figure of the Shiba, until his silhouette vanished from view. The eyes, still locked on the lion’s head, remained stubbornly fixed, relentless in their pursuit. The scene was disturbingly vivid.

This was the prison of the Dog Mountain Jade Robe Guards.

As for why such a monstrous appearance was built, the reason remained unknown to the Shiba himself.

He simply knew that since he became a Jade Robe Guard, the place had grown to this form. For so many years, it had never changed.

The Shiba wandered the corridors, the echo of his own footsteps the only sound. His ears rang with the memory of the steps he took. He lifted his gaze, and the walls were not stone, but a shroud of black mist, obscuring everything.

Yet, the Shiba was not alone in his sorrow. Beyond the mist, the spirits of the thousand households of the Eastern District gathered, their shrines silent and somber. Above them, the imperial capital’s two capitals, with their three provinces, stood as the highest shrines.

Rising one by one, the highest shrines could summon prisoners from below, their chains drawn tighter.

As for the other households, their shrines stood parallel to his own, unconnected, their fates as intertwined as their spirits.

The Shiba walked forward, unyielding, until he reached the deepest chamber. There, the prison door stood before him, its iron bars gleaming in the dim light.

“You’ve grown quite imposing,” the Shiba remarked, his voice steady. “But the edict is still in place.”

The chamber was silent except for the faint rustle of silk robes.

“Speak, then,” the Shiba said, stepping forward.

His voice was calm, but his eyes held a quiet resolve. “I don’t know what to say. But I’ll do my best.”

The Shiba’s words were met with a silence that pressed heavier than any wall.

Then, the air shifted. The shadows behind him stirred, and a single black figure emerged, its presence as sharp as a blade.

The Shiba’s eyes narrowed. “This is no ordinary mist. It’s the spirit of the Eastern District’s most notorious jailor.”

The figure lunged.

The Shiba’s hand closed around the weapon at his side, its edge biting into the air. The blade struck true, and the figure fell, crumpling to the floor.

The Shiba watched as the creature’s body dissolved into nothingness, its final breath a whisper against the mist.

The corridor fell silent once more.

Yet, in the distance, the echo of footsteps faded, and the shadows seemed to shift, as if something was watching from the darkness.

On either side, the shop signs are inscribed in the characters of the Great Ming Empire, yet their syntax differs from that of the present Wa district.

It is plain to discern that this is the visage of Wato before it was reduced to a Wa district.

Compared with the earlier stench‑laden, lifeless prison, the present surroundings have improved by more than a notch.

Yet Water‑village Five‑tooth’s eyes tightened unbidden into needle‑pointed darts, and a flicker of anxiety rose upon his taut skin.

“Does it feel a little familiar? That’s precisely it—everything has been fashioned from the memories you hold of ‘home.’”

Lord Wu, arms crossed, leaned against the courtyard gate: “A prisoner, once he steps into the imperial jail, will have many of the thoughts he keeps hidden surface before us—such as these now. The deeper ones, however, must be spoken by you yourself.”

Wu, however, offered no concealment, laying out before Water‑village Five‑tooth the whole rise and fall of this world, one by one.

“Since these are the shallow things lodged in my mind, do you think I would care?”

At that moment, Water‑village Five‑tooth bore no wounds upon his flesh, clad in a black, patterned haori hakama, standing upon the threshold before the gate, his face a mask of cold amusement.

“Whether I care or not—let us see first.”

As Wu’s words ceased, the crowd that had been passing before the gate seemed to accelerate like a surveillance reel, then abruptly halted.

A white‑haired old Wato man appeared before the gate, his posture bent, a cane in hand, even standing made him tremble.

He seemed ill at ease in his surroundings, pacing uncertainly for a moment before slowly raising his gaze to the iron‑colored face of Water‑village Five‑tooth.

“Are you… Five‑tooth?!”

The old man’s deeply lined face lit with excitement, his speech quickening: “You weren’t sent to the Ming criminal district? When did you return?”

“Listen—these Wato exiles still daydream of becoming the victorious side, truly obstinate in their ways.”

Wu’s lips remained still, yet his mocking words crystal‑clear entered Five‑tooth’s ears.

“Five‑tooth, do you not recognize me? I am your Nakamura uncle.”

The elder shuffled closer, tapping his cane lightly against Five‑tooth’s shin: “Scoundrel, now that you hold office in the Ming realm do you dare ignore your elders? Hear me—no matter how many Ming slaves you command, to me you remain that mischievous Five‑tooth!”

Water‑village Five‑tooth pressed his lips together, silent, eyes fixed on Wu, his fists clenching with a crisp crack.

“I advise you to speak with him first; this old man is no phantom of your mind.”

Wu smiled: “To thrust his fragile consciousness into the imperial jail, I expended no small effort.”

It is no illusion—it is a living man!

A sudden gasp seized Five‑tooth’s heart; cold words broke from his clenched teeth: “My affairs have nothing to do with them—this is the way of the brocade‑guarded guard?”

“The brocade‑guarded guard’s deeds are not subject to direction by a single crane.”

Wu sneered: “Moreover, rebellion implicates seven clans, clearly stipulated in the Great Ming law. The guilty are not limited to him alone!”

“Five‑tooth, why do you stay silent—have you truly forgotten my uncle?!”

The elder’s whiskers trembled, his anger at Five‑tooth’s indifference boiling: “Come, return to my home; I must hear in detail how you have, these years, dealt with the treacherous hearts that still plot rebellion against the Ming dogs!”

Only a thin, desiccated palm, like parchment, covered Five‑tooth’s fist; at the touch he recoiled like a spark, his whole body trembling, instinctively wishing to fling the old man’s hand away.

Yet he was aghast to find himself utterly immobile, unable even to close his eyes, save for the movement of his lips.

Nakamura continued his chatter, the crowd gathering at the gate swelling to dozens, each seeming to know Five‑tooth, their greetings rising in a lively chorus.

The sorrow in Five‑tooth’s eyes deepened; among these folk were neighbors from his youth and friends he had later befriended as a crane in the crane‑clan.

In his memory, many of them still lived within the Wa district, yet now they stood here.

The meaning behind it spoke without words.

The sole luck is that none of them are kin bound by blood to him.

“There will be.”

Wu, as if he could pierce the heart, laid bare Five‑tooth’s hidden thought.

“Though those you conceal are deep, we cannot dig them out directly; yet you must not forget the purpose of the brocade‑guarded guard—any thread suffices to locate a soul. The man is already on his way, and soon he shall be delivered to join you.”

“Wu!”

A sudden, mournful howl rang through the street, startling the assembled crowd into frozen stillness before the gate.

At the same time, Five‑tooth’s shout seemed to lift the veil of confusion from these minds; their bewilderment faded, replaced by acute anxiety and dread.

“What place is this? I was working in the Kanazawa‑jo Lu clan workshop, am I not?”

“Five‑tooth, where am I? Why am I here?!”

“Five‑tooth.”

Amid the chaotic clamor, Wu’s voice remained clear: “You dare to become a crane and still worry for kin and friends? From the very day you plotted rebellion, did you not foresee this ending? Are you not a touch too naive?”

“Five‑tooth, have you committed some offense in the Ming district?”

The elder named Nakamura, sensing the nuance, grasped Five‑tooth’s sleeve and whispered: “Hurry, let me block this man. Rest assured, my age shields me from his wrath.”

Wu’s brow lifted, he glanced at the elder, and continued: “Your crane treats ordinary folk as expendable insects; the brocade‑guarded guard is no saint either.”

“I can tell you these are but an iceberg fragment of those implicated in the Edo disturbance; the magistrate’s list numbers in the thousands—whether you know them or have forgotten them, all will perish because of you!”

Five‑tooth’s lips trembled, the light in his eyes dimmed.

Wu, having read every flicker of expression upon Five‑tooth’s face, softened his tone: “Five‑tooth, you are a martial rank of the sect, your blood still burns; I believe you retain a spark of righteousness and do not wish your deeds to implicate others. If you now confess, I may grant you clemency, releasing them all from the imperial jail and ceasing further arrests.”

“How can you be sure you speak truth?”

“I, Wu, dislike deceit, and you have no other choice.”

Wu, with detached calm, said: “In truth, whether you speak or not matters little; we can obtain the answers we seek from other mouths. Do you think your hideout with Chaku would have been exposed otherwise?”

Five‑tooth drew a harsh breath, asking: “Is it the State of Hagi that betrayed us?”

“He is swifter and sharper than you, now a broker for the brocade‑guarded guard, no longer needing to endure this jail.”

Five‑tooth’s face was etched with bitter hatred: “The crane will never forgive him!”

“Who knows if it is he?”

Wu scoffed: “And even if we knew, what then? Within the crane there are many peaks; the rivalry among the lords rivals the schemes against the brocade‑guarded guard.”

“Moreover, Chu Ke is dead, you too are in the jail; who would stir us over two exposed cranes? Your leader, the crane of Kakeru.”

“Think carefully: since the magistrate’s edict to capture began, has the crane’s king shown his face, contacted you? Now he may be hidden somewhere, perhaps fled the Wa district entirely. He has become a stray dog of no further use.”

“Your aim is not the crane?”

Five‑tooth, hearing the subtext of Wu, fell silent a while, then asked: “Then what would you like to know?”

“I wonder why the age of chaos cultivated an outsider like you into a martial chief of the clan, and then placed you within the crane.”

Wu blinked, a faint smile curving his lips: “This, surely, is the secret deepest in your heart, is it not? The Spring Dragon of the Age of Chaos.”