Chapter 479: Redress Grievances and Collect Debts

Chapter 479: Seeking Redress and Collecting Debts

"I never expected that the first to arrive at Himeji Castle would be you; this is somewhat beyond my expectations."

Zhou Heyu's smile was calm; his handsome, scholarly face showed no trace of panic despite Yun Cong's death.

The black-clad servant, forced back by Li Jun's punch, stood beside him with hands bound, his gaze cold and fixed on Li Jun.

"In my plan, I originally intended to use this fool Yun Cong to lure out either Gui Wang Da or Qian Fengting, one of their deputy thousand-households, and win a favorable impression before Lord Xu with their heads. But things don't always go as wished."

Zhou Heyu sighed, the carefree air of an aristocratic scion, and smiled at Li Jun: "Now that this Emissary Yun Cong, the traitor of the Jinyiwei, is dead, you have avenged Qilong. I presently have no desire to kill you, lest I merely benefit another."

Having said that, Zhou Heyu raised his arm and flicked his sleeve: "Let me remind you, Wang Changting is no saint. If all goes as expected, he should already know you left Qinshan Castle. If you don't want your backyard to go up in flames, you had best scurry back to Qinshan and guard your turf."

Li Jun glanced up and down at Zhou Heyu, his eyes undisguised with scorn and a sneer tugging at his lips, clearly regarding him as an arrogant fool. This caused the Commissioner of Himeji Castle's face to darken.

"Do you think I came to Himeji Castle merely to kill a battalion commander like Yun Cong?"

"Or perhaps you still wish to kill me? Hahaha!"

Zhou Heyu narrowed his eyes, smirking: "If you seek redress for a grievance with a debtor, you must first possess the ability to champion others' cause and collect what is owed, wouldn't you agree, Commander Yan?"

"If you overreach, you will only waste your own life. Being here in Himeji Castle, coming to aid has already repaid your debt to Qilong; if you persist, the next to fall will be your own people from Qinshan. Lose Qinshan, and what will you have to bargain with the disciples of Pei Xingjian?"

Zhou Heyu clasped his hands behind his back, speaking lightly: "Between the dead and the living, which weighs more—you surely can't be confused about that?"

"In the eyes of Zhou Heyu, scion of an imperial aristocratic clan, human life is merely a weight for measuring profit and loss."

"As for grudges, feuds, and brotherhood-in-arms, they are merely a pretext for him to seize profit under a righteous guise."

Zhou Heyu believed that, given the present circumstances, this Jinyiwei commander would surely make the right choice.

But Li Jun's next words instantly evaporated Zhou Heyu's composure.

"The living will not die, but for those who have perished, I too must vent this foul anger."

Li Jun raised his arm and lifted his blade, the edge pointing straight ahead!

"Otherwise they cannot close their eyes, and I cannot rest easy!"

"Good, good, good."

Zhou Heyu laughed furiously, no longer bothering with the notion of causing Wang Changting a little trouble, and snarled: "It seems you are determined to oppose me today, Chen Zong!"

"The old servant is here."

The black-clad servant stepped forward at the sound.

Zhou Heyu said coldly: "Kill him, and I will grant your descendants three slots to have the Zhou family seal removed."

"Thank you, sir."

Hearing Zhou Heyu's reward, the old man named Chen Zong instantly beamed, his aura sharpening with a bone‑chilling killing intent.

"Are you the martial officer named Li Jun, subordinate of Su Ce?"

Chen Zong's icy gaze fell upon Li Jun, and he said in a low voice: "Before I followed the young master into the Japanese region, I had heard that remnants of the Huangtian Sect had fled here, forsaking ancestral rites, taking in a pirate called Huangshi Yan, and besmirching the reputation of the martial officers."

"I had intended to use this opportunity of the young master's appointment to dispose of them all together, but you got there first. Still, to slay Huangshi Yan and drive out that Huangtian Sect rabble counts as a service you and Su Ce have rendered to the martial officers."

Chen Zong's tone turned cold: "It's a pity you dare to speak insolently to the young master today; your fault can no longer offset your merit."

Two withered, shriveled hands protruded from his sleeves, their slowly closing fingers producing a muffled pop.

"That punch you just threw is the Five‑Grade See‑Dragon‑Unburdening Fist of the Changshan Zhen Ding school; its force carries a hint of the former sect master Zhao Jiguan—respectable. But if you think that by killing a spawn‑born aberration with this modest skill you can overturn the natural order, you are greatly mistaken."

"What is your martial rank?"

Li Jun stared at this defiant old man, his brow heavy with solemnity.

Chen Zong declared proudly: "Great Accomplishment Martial Rank Four!"

Li Jun's tightly furrowed brows suddenly relaxed, his pressed lips curving into a smile as he laughed silently.

Bang!

Chen Zong did not know why Li Jun still dared to wear such an expression before him, but this brazen attitude truly ignited his fury.

He let out a cold snort, his form vanishing instantly, and in the blur he was already lunging at Li Jun.

"Chen Zong of the Yiyang Gate: 'Today I shall, in Su Ce's stead, teach you juniors how to behave!'"

Two specter‑like figures, nearly impossible to pin with the naked eye, tangled and collided, their ear‑splitting sonic booms erupting from the gate before and blasting upward over the office.

At the same time, outside the Himeji Castle office, a throng of Zhou clan forces gathered, countless cold‑glinting gun barrels aimed at the few remaining Jinyiwei of Himeji Castle.

"Sir, we will cover your breakout."

A Jinyiwei clutched the unconscious Jishan, reached down to snatch a blast‑arrow gun from a corpse, and looked ferociously at Zhou Jiujiu.

"What breakout? We're surrounding them!"

After Zhou Jiujiu tossed out that remark, he ignored the bewildered Jinyiwei, feigning to wipe sweat from a brow that held none.

"Damn it, I almost got bluffed by that old coot."

Zhou Jiujiu muttered under his breath, eyes dropping to his chest: 'Old Horse, when did you install this portable feature?'

"None of your business,' the Horse King replied in a deep, resonant voice that echoed in his ear."

"You old lecher, you actually feel embarrassed?"

Zhou Jiujiu chuckled, amid the bewildered stares of the Jinyiwei, he lifted his gaze to the sky.

"Let's make a wager: how long do you think this pompous old fool can last in Li Jun's hands?"

"Five moves."

Zhou Jiujiu smirked: 'You're giving him too much credit; I say three.'

"What are we betting on?"

"Just bet."

Zhou Jiujiu hadn't finished speaking when a thunder‑like boom exploded overhead.

The sweeping blast hurled the struggling Jinyiwei to the ground again, and even Zhou Jiujiu instinctively ducked his head.

Thud!

A figure plummeted from the sky, striking the open ground before the Himeji Castle magistrate's office and carving out a pit a zhang wide and deep.

"Impossible."

A shrill howl rose, only to be driven back into his belly by the following heavy punch.

Boom!

With the crater as epicenter, the hard ground within a five‑zhang radius rippled like a stone tossed into a lake, spawning terrifying fissures.

"It's over; no more bets."

Zhou Jiujiu shook his head with a wry smile, his face full of resignation.

"The game hadn't even begun, and it was already over."

"A slave bearing the seal of the Ru scholars, his flesh rotting and stinking, dares to point fingers at Huangshi Yan?"

Li Jun no longer gazed at the corpse reduced to putrid mush beneath his feet; he stepped onto the office steps, his right hand hanging at his side dripping blood that trailed a scarlet line with each step.

Chen Zong, who claimed to have mastered the martial fourfold perfection, proved utterly feeble before Li Jun—not merely because the solitary path suppressed the sect, but because he was, in truth, no true martial four at all, merely a hollow façade.

The sour, musky odor emanating from his body was familiar to Li Jun; he had once smelled it on a martial sequence corpse that the remnants of the rebel cult had forged into a Yellow Turban strongman back in Chengdu Prefecture.

The Confucian sequence seal belongs to one of the Six Arts, namely 'driving' or 'governance'.

Essentially it differs little from the Daoist sequence or the Yellow Turban strongmen; its advantage lies in preserving the seal-bearer's autonomous consciousness.

But for the martial sequence, it is a chronic poison.

Pure flesh and blood infused with another's will—decay is merely a matter of time.

Within the guardhouse, Zhou Heyu watched Chen Zong being slain with effortless ease by Li Jun, yet he did not flee; he remained rooted, his aura as deep and steadfast as a mountain, undiminished in the slightest.

But out of sight, the ten fingers clasped behind his back were intertwined, fingertips blanched, trembling incessantly.

Clang.

Li Jun drew the embroidered spring blade lodged beside Yun Cong's corpse, its tip touching the ground and dragging forth a shrill screech.

"Kill me, and you gain only a hundred harms, no benefit at all."

Zhou Heyu locked eyes with Li Jun and declared loudly, "I can join you against Wang Changting; his death for my life."

Smack!

The cold blade lightly slapped Zhou Heyu's cheek.

Li Jun wore a half‑smile, asking, "What rank of Confucian sequence are you?"

"Confucian sequence five. But I am a man of the Runan Zhou clan."

Zhou Heyu, oblivious to the present disgrace, struggled to steady his voice amid the blood‑choked air that threatened to suffocate him.

"If you back Yang Bai Ze, you will inevitably clash with Wang Changting; even if you defeat him, the Wang clan behind him is notorious for vengeance and will not let it rest. With Pei Xuanjian's ability, at most he can shield Chen Qisheng—not you."

Li Jun laughed, "He cannot protect me—do you think a mere sequence five like you can?"

"The Runan Zhou clan can!"

Zhou Heyu had already forgotten that this embroidered‑uniform guard was merely his peer in rank.

Seeing Li Jun open his mouth to respond, Zhou Heyu, like a drowning man clutching a straw, cried urgently, "I can send you back to the homeland; once you enter Henan Province, no one in the Great Ming realm will be able to move you—not even the Buddhist or Daoist orders!"

"What grand authority!"

Li Jun's brow twitched; he smirked coldly, "But I didn't kill you outright because I don't wish to discuss these terms with you."

"I know that mere survival won't satisfy you; tell me what you want, and speak it plainly."

Before the urge to live, Zhou Heyu's feigned composure fell away like petals in a gust, vanishing swiftly.

"If you feel Chen Zong's earlier words offended you, I can hand over his entire family's seals for you to vent your rage; with a single thought, every relative—old, young, or child—will have their consciousness erased, turned into mindless puppets at your mercy. How does that sound?"

Zhou Heyu's fervent, eager gaze was utterly doused by the two icy words Li Jun uttered.

"Kneel."

"What?"

Zhou Heyu's placating smile froze instantly; he stared at Li Jun, stunned.

Smack—another sharp crack.

The slender blade drew a scarlet line across his cheek.

"I command you to kneel."

Zhou Heyu no longer doubted his ears; the burning sting on his face sent shivers through his heart.

Was it to preserve dignity, or to kneel and beg for life?

Zhou Heyu had little time to hesitate; the instant the blade's edge touched his throat, the Pacification Commissioner of Jilu City drove his knees hard into the ground.

"Kneel outside the door."

"Li Jun you"

Pfft!

A left arm was sheared off at the shoulder; the spurting blood stained Zhou Heyu's blue official robe crimson.

Arcing electricity seared the flesh at the wound; in the flickering light, the beast embroidered on his chest insignia lost all trace of its ferocious fangs and claws.

Having resolved to abandon dignity, every subsequent humiliation became bearable.

This is the Confucian gentleman's principle of not standing beneath a perilous wall.

Zhou Heyu lowered a fearful visage, clutching his arm wound, and crawled on his knees to the guardhouse entrance.

At that moment, beneath the steps, every member of the Zhou clan had already knelt.

Amid a sea of bowed heads, the surviving Jilu City embroidered‑uniform guards all bore wounds, each gripping a blade.

Even the revived Jishan, expending his last ounce of strength with a severed arm, leaned on the spring blade embedded in the ground, his blood‑red eyes fixed on the kneeling Zhou Heyu, his unrecovered tongue able only to emit hoarse, ragged groans.

"Kowtow." Li Jun's tone was flat, devoid of feeling.

"Yan Jun, I."

A foot planted on Zhou Heyu's occiput, crushing his words and driving his skull hard into the earth.

"How has it come to this."

A sigh drifted from somewhere unknown; Li Jun ignored it, his icy eyes suddenly surging with a fierce killing intent!

"Qiu Long, watch well!"

The spring blade, wrapped in wind, fell; a head tumbled down the steps, layer by layer.

Upon the blood‑less, death‑still features, Zhou Heyu's eyes widened; shafts of cold light flashed from his dim pupils.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Each blade's cry followed close behind; the head struck the ground like a kowtow, blood spurting as if poured wine.

The Jilu City embroidered‑uniform guards honor their robes with the lives of foes.

They honor the centurion Qiu Long, the battalion commander Heavy Armor, and the squad leader Red Eye.

"Ah!!!"

Jishan bellowed aloud, his voice mournful yet exhilarated.

"How has it come to this?"

Li Jun turned his gaze; a vermilion projection slowly appeared before him.

"For a few insignificant embroidered‑uniform guards, to drive oneself to a dead end—is it worth it?"

Li Jun crooked his elbow, gripping the blade, and wiped away the blood.

"Who are you, then?"

A man in vermilion robes smiled faintly: "Envoy of the Wa region, Xu Hai Chao."

The Edo City hundred‑household office.

Sandalwood incense flowed; Buddhist chants drifted.

The Ming King sat cross-legged upon the rush mat; behind him, a Buddha statue lowered its brows in a gentle smile, its exposed arm half flesh, half machinery, the outstretched index finger resting precisely upon the precept scar upon the Ming King's crown.

"Brother."

Ran Deng burst through the door all at once, his voice urgent: "The defenders of Gangshan City's Jiao Wood Dragon and Shiga City's Ye Lao have all fallen under the assault of the Confucian Order's aristocracy; they cannot hold out much longer—should we send reinforcements?"

The projections swirling around the Ming King froze mid‑dance, hanging silently in the air, myriad phantom eyes fixed unblinkingly upon Ran Deng.

An inexplicable chill crept over his heart; Ran Deng's face tightened, and without thinking he stepped back a pace.

"Brother?"

The Ming King, eyes closed in meditation, slowly opened his lids; within his pupils gleamed an inhuman gold.

Ran Deng pressed his palms together, sank to his knees, his visage reduced to a blank wooden mask.

"Disciple Ran Deng, I bow before the Buddha."

"Do you know your fate?"

Ran Deng answered reverently: "To feed the hawk with my own flesh is to settle the karmic debt."

The Ming King nodded in satisfaction, then rose to his full height and strode purposefully toward the outer chamber.