Chapter 52: Borrowing the Blade

Two guards approached, pressing their hands firmly onto Li Zaixing’s shoulders, attempting to force him to his knees before Wang Hong. Yet the instant their hands touched him, Li Zaixing’s body suddenly shimmered; both guards recoiled as though struck by lightning, crying out involuntarily and stumbling back.

Li Zaixing’s expression darkened. He brushed his sleeves and spoke, “Lord Wang, restrain your thunderous wrath for now. I merely seek clarity—why must you press so relentlessly? Are you hoping to coerce a confession by wielding your power?”

Nan Jiyun’s eyes narrowed; he raised a foot, ready to act. But Li Zaixing’s words made him hesitate, and he quietly withdrew. He fixed his gaze on Li Zaixing, surprised. Li Zaixing’s movements had not been dramatic, and the guards showed no signs of injury, yet they cried out together as if confronted by something inexplicable. Nan Jiyun grew wary; he knew the strength of those seasoned men. If not for something truly unusual, they would never lose composure in Wang Hong’s presence.

“How dare you!” Wang Hong was incensed by Li Zaixing’s open defiance. How could a mere commoner speak so boldly to him, the esteemed Censor-in-Chief and Magistrate of the Capital? Such insolence could not be tolerated. “Seize him!”

“Wait.” Li Zaixing raised a hand, blocking the guards who were about to pounce. Turning to the furious Wang Hong, he enunciated each word, “I came here to bear witness for the Princess and her family—not to challenge you, Lord Wang. If the case itself does not interest you, then I shall take my leave.”

At the mention of the case, Wang Hong shuddered. Rising, he strode before Li Zaixing, pushing aside Wang Zhun and demanded in a low voice, “Where is the imperial daughter now?”

Li Zaixing shook his head. “Lord Wang, you are wise. The foreign girl beside me is not the imperial daughter.” He turned to Princess Yongmu’s family, giving a respectful gesture and said apologetically, “I never imagined that a foreign girl would cause such trouble for the Princess’s family. I am truly sorry. Princess, you have suffered unjustly.”

Princess Yongmu, greatly relieved, nodded repeatedly. Raising her head, she met Wang Hong’s furious glare and quickly lowered it again.

Li Zaixing frowned inwardly. The dignified Princess, reduced to a meek rabbit before Wang Hong—what a humiliating fate for her. Conversely, Wang Hong’s arrogance was equally astonishing. On what grounds did he command such authority? Was it Li Linfu—or even the Emperor? Li Linfu remained a minister, less noble than the Princess herself. The Emperor… but he was her own father. How could it have come to this?

Wang Hong sneered. “You say so, and that settles it? Where is the foreign girl now?”

Li Zaixing frowned. “She has left the city. She won’t return for several days.”

“Several days?” Wang Hong sneered, his voice harsh. “That means you cannot prove anything!”

Li Zaixing returned the sneer, for this was precisely the effect he desired; he had deliberately sent Mitra away. When Wang Hong was desperate to exonerate himself, he would insist that Mitra was the imperial daughter. Without concrete evidence to refute it, he would cling to his claim. In this scenario, the Princess and her kin would be branded uncooperative, deserving punishment, and any troublesome commoner like Li Zaixing would be condemned to death.

Despite the Tang laws’ caution regarding execution, Wang Hong cared little for Li Zaixing’s fate when his own honor was at stake.

Li Zaixing understood his own insignificance, so he sought to implicate the Princess’s family. Wang Hong and his son could bully Princess Yongmu, but to falsely accuse the Princess was another matter entirely. Li Bi’s plan from the outset had been to drive Wang Hong into the trap of slandering the Princess, thus provoking the Emperor’s ire.

In Li Bi’s strategy, the Princess was merely a tool, as was Li Zaixing. The Princess could endure humiliation, even be beaten; Li Zaixing could face punishment, even death. As long as the ultimate goal was achieved, it was worthwhile in Li Bi’s eyes.

But this was Li Bi’s plan, not Li Zaixing’s. Li Zaixing was determined to seize the initiative.

Watching Wang Hong disregard Princess Yongmu, Li Zaixing secretly smiled coldly, though his face remained calm. “The Princess is His Majesty’s daughter, sister to the imperial daughter. Could she not distinguish between the two? Even if Mitra were truly the imperial daughter, would the Princess harm her own younger sister? Your accusation, Lord Wang, is far too crude. You claim the Princess cannot prove her innocence—yet what evidence do you possess to support your charge?”

“What did you say?” Wang Hong, confused, glared sidelong at Li Zaixing. “Repeat yourself.”

“I ask, Lord Wang, how you can prove you are not deliberately slandering the Princess?” Li Zaixing deftly shifted the topic, casting a glance at Wang Zhun. “Lord Wang, today you berate the Princess and seek to punish me. Is it truly for the sake of the investigation, or rather personal vengeance? Your son contended with us, lost at the pitch-pot, then lost at football. Is this resentment prompting you to use your official powers for revenge?”

“Outrageous!” Wang Hong roared in fury.

Li Zaixing remained unperturbed, continuing, “Does Lord Wang not recall? Some days ago, your son, celebrating Wei Yingwu’s success as a new scholar, tried to impress a famous courtesan and invited Eleventh Young Master for a game of pitch-pot. Eleventh Young Master declined, so I stepped forward. Alas, your son’s luck failed him—he lost badly, and even barked like a dog…”

At this, Li Zaixing laughed aloud, glancing at Wang Zhun, whose face flushed crimson in shame and anger. He lunged forward, intent on violence, but Wang Hong stopped him, glaring coldly at Li Zaixing.

“Three days ago, I played football with Wei Sanlang. Your son barged in uninvited, insisting on competing and resorted to foul tactics, but failed to best the tiger and was bitten instead. All witnessed it that day—it cannot be falsified. Today, Lord Wang arrives in full regalia, accusing the Princess of harboring the imperial daughter, summoning me for questioning, and immediately threatening violence. To my eyes, this is not an inquiry, but personal vendetta. How do you explain yourself, Lord Wang?”

Li Zaixing finished, surveying Wang Hong with evident challenge in his gaze.

Wang Hong was livid. The esteemed Censor-in-Chief and Magistrate of the Capital could make the Princess cower, yet now stood accused by a commoner of abusing his power for revenge—such insolence was intolerable. He blocked the flushed Wang Zhun and sneered, “Such a glib-tongued scoundrel. If I don’t show you the true force of authority, you won’t understand what official power means. Guards, seize—”

Before he could finish, Li Zaixing, who had been smiling, suddenly darkened. He lunged forward, striking Wang Zhun’s grinning face with a swift punch. Wang Zhun, caught completely off-guard, had never expected Li Zaixing would dare attack him. Though Li Zaixing had humiliated him before, he had never laid a finger on him—even at the football grounds, despite Wang Zhun’s provocations, Li Zaixing had always refrained. Wang Zhun had subconsciously believed Li Zaixing feared his position and would never dare harm him.

Thus, he had repeatedly pressed Li Zaixing.

But now, Li Zaixing proved utterly unafraid. His punch was so swift that Wang Zhun had no time to react.

With a crash, Wang Zhun was hurled into a corner, landing heavily and knocking over a folding screen with a loud clatter.

Wang Hong was stunned, the rest of his words stuck in his throat. He stared wide-eyed at Li Zaixing, who advanced like a fierce tiger, forgetting even to dodge.

Seeing Li Zaixing crouch and step forward, Nan Jiyun knew trouble was brewing. Without a word, he drew his saber from his waist, raised it overhead, and struck at Li Zaixing’s back, shouting, “Watch the blade!”

Though Li Zaixing lunged forward, he had been watching Nan Jiyun’s every move. Nan Jiyun stood behind him, his gaze never leaving Li Zaixing. Li Zaixing knew Nan Jiyun was focused on him.

And he was focused on Nan Jiyun.

After sending Wang Zhun flying, Li Zaixing pressed forward to threaten Wang Hong, forcing Nan Jiyun’s hand. Whether Nan Jiyun announced his attack or not, Li Zaixing would never underestimate him.

Knowing Nan Jiyun’s reputation, Li Zaixing could not possibly ignore such a formidable opponent.

Nan Jiyun had been his main concern from the very start.

As Nan Jiyun struck, Li Zaixing abruptly halted his forward motion. His right leg, which should have advanced, subtly shifted direction. Using his left leg as an axis, he twisted, changing from a forward lunge to a sidestep toward Nan Jiyun, raising his left arm vertically and his right hand, clenched, guarding his abdomen.

Two Forms Stance!

In a split second, facing Nan Jiyun’s attack, Li Zaixing’s left arm traced a half arc, deflecting Nan Jiyun’s saber arm. His hand, swift and secure, seized Nan Jiyun’s left wrist, pulled it forward, and his right hand, transformed into a palm, silently slipped beneath Nan Jiyun’s left ribs. Using the momentum of his turn combined with Nan Jiyun’s own force, he sent Nan Jiyun forward.

Nan Jiyun, his blade missing its target, realized disaster had struck. He tried to recover, but it was too late. Li Zaixing’s maneuver carried him forward half a step, and, in a flash, the saber landed on Wang Hong’s neck with a dull thud. A spray of blood erupted.

Nan Jiyun’s face turned deathly pale; he released the saber, retreating in panic.

Wang Hong was equally stunned, staring in disbelief at the blade embedded in his shoulder, staggering backward. “You… you…”

Li Zaixing pressed Nan Jiyun’s shoulder, leaned close to his ear, and chuckled, “Nan Eight, those skilled in riding and archery often neglect their footwork—you shouldn't blame yourself so much.”

Nan Jiyun looked into Li Zaixing’s smiling face and in an instant understood everything. Li Zaixing had planned this all along; while Nan Jiyun watched him, Li Zaixing watched back. Even Nan Jiyun himself had been caught in Li Zaixing’s scheme.

Unfortunately, it was too late. His blade had struck Wang Hong’s neck, and it seemed Wang Hong had no hope of survival.

Nan Jiyun’s mind was blank, incapable of grasping Li Zaixing’s banter.

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