Chapter 105: Chapter 104. No trace left behind.

Chapter 104.

The group surged forward, ushering Yin Chengyu to the head seat where he settled in command. As always, Xue Shu stood dutifully by his side, calm and poised.

Zhou Zhiling, however, was far from composed. Though he had managed to shake off the terror of Xue Shu’s earlier display of murder, the sight of Yin Chengyu struck a new chord of dread in him. His gaze flitted nervously, his face drained of color, and despair etched itself into his wide, panic-stricken eyes.

This time, there was no escape. He was done for.

The bold ambitions he once clung to, dreaming of climbing to unimaginable heights, now lay shattered. All that remained was fear—raw, unrelenting, and paralyzing. The shrewdness that had served him so well in the cutthroat world of commerce failed him here.

With trembling lips, he finally murmured, “Your Highness, the Crown Prince…”

Yin Chengyu's gaze bore into him, sharp and unforgiving. “Who told you to raise private soldiers?” His voice was measured, yet its weight pressed down like a blade. He tapped a finger idly on his knee, his tone casual, almost indifferent. “Was it Shao Tian?”

Zhou Zhiling’s heart seized at the mention of the name. Merchants like his family had no business dabbling in military affairs, much less funding private armies. But money talks, and it was clear that Zhou Zhiling’s wealth had been funneled into supporting someone bold enough to take that risk.

Hearing Yin Chengyu’s offhand reference to “Shao Tian,” Zhou’s fingers twitched, and a sickening chill coursed through him. Forcing a thin veneer of composure, he replied, “Your Highness, I’m afraid I don’t understand. Yes, I’ve had dealings with some of the bandits in the region—but only to ensure safe passage for my goods. I would never dare involve myself in anything so treasonous.”

Yin Chengyu didn’t flinch. He leaned in ever so slightly, his voice smooth, yet cutting. “Oh? And when did these dealings begin?”

Zhou Zhiling squirmed under his scrutiny. The Crown Prince’s reaction was unreadable—had he bought the lie, or was he simply toying with him?

With no choice but to press on, Zhou stammered, “Approximately two years ago…”

“Two years,” Yin Chengyu mused, a dangerous smile curling his lips. “Ambitious, aren’t you, Zhou Zhiling?”

The words landed like a hammer, and Zhou Zhiling’s chest tightened with a crushing sense of foreboding. He couldn’t fathom what part of his story had given him away, but the Crown Prince’s tone made it clear he was already ensnared.

“Your Highness… I don’t understand what you mean,” Zhou Zhiling forced out, his voice cracking.

Yin Chengyu didn’t bother explaining. He didn’t need to. “From what I’ve gathered,” he continued lazily, “there weren’t nearly this many bandits in Wangtuo Ridge before. How many are there now? And where do they hide?”

His words were deliberate, and though he said “bandits,” each syllable dripped with the accusation of “private soldiers.”

The air was suffocating.

A crime like harboring private armies carried a sentence of complete annihilation—not just for him, but for his entire family. Zhou Zhiling’s instincts screamed at him to deny everything, yet the Crown Prince’s piercing gaze left no room for retreat.

“Your Highness,” he began weakly, “I… I’ve told you all I know. Any additional matters are beyond me.”

Yin Chengyu’s stare was unrelenting, dissecting him as though he were a pathetic insect pinned to a board. Zhou Zhiling shrank under the intensity but clung desperately to silence, knowing that admitting the truth would seal his fate.

“You truly believe,” Yin Chengyu drawled, his voice sharp as a dagger, “that your denial changes anything? The Second Prince may be dead, but the crime of stockpiling soldiers to stage a rebellion doesn’t simply vanish.”

The statement hit Zhou Zhiling like a physical blow. His eyes widened in terror, but Yin Chengyu wasn’t finished. “Shao Tian’s desperation drove him to have you attempt to assassinate me. Did you truly think that someone as calculating as him would let your family survive once your usefulness was spent?”

“You’re out of options,” Yin Chengyu declared coldly. “Confess now, and there might still be a way to redeem yourself through service. Keep resisting, and when the Eastern Bureau gets their hands on you, you’ll be begging for death before they’re through.”

As if to underscore the point, Xue Shu cast a lazy glance in Zhou Zhiling’s direction. His expression was detached, as tranquil as it had been earlier when he calmly strangled Fan Hu to death with a length of iron wire.

Killing wasn’t a task for him—it was merely a reflex.

Zhou Zhiling’s composure crumbled entirely. Pale as a corpse, his lips quivered, and his mind raced with equal parts fear and regret. For what felt like an eternity, he knelt trembling on the floor, the oppressive silence crushing him into submission.

Finally, he collapsed forward, banging his head against the ground as he choked out his confession. “I’ll confess! Please, Your Highness, have mercy!”

He spilled everything.

Two years ago, Shao Tian’s trusted agents had approached him, ordering him to secretly raise troops under the guise of protecting his business interests. To mask their intentions, they had partnered with the notorious bandit leader Fan Hu of Phoenix Mountain. Zhou’s family supplied funds and provisions, while the bandits recruited and trained over 7,000 men, hiding them in the mountain’s caverns. When needed, these soldiers posed as bandits to carry out their orders.

This is why there are so many bandits around Wangtuo Ridge.

Zhou Zhiling thought back to when he had been persuaded by those enticing promises—great achievements, noble titles, glory. Looking back now, all he felt was regret.

The Zhou family's business was thriving, sure, but only within the bounds of Huguang. Beyond that—northward or even as far as Wangjing—there were far too many families with more power and influence. And to make matters worse, his family’s descendants were utterly useless. Not a single one of them had managed to pass the imperial examinations or enter the bureaucracy.

His wife's family, the Shaos, did have some distant ties to the prominent Shao clan in Wangjing, but those ties were tenuous at best—a few customary holiday gifts sent to the capital, and that was the extent of it.

So when trouble arose in the Zhou family’s business dealings in Wangjing, and the Shaos stepped in to help, Zhou Zhiling saw an opportunity—a chance to latch onto this towering tree of power.

He bent over backward to accommodate the Shao family, doing whatever they asked. And it seemed to work. The Shao family began to take him seriously. Shao Tian himself even met with him personally, dropping hints of support and encouragement during their conversation.

Then came the day when one of Shao Tian’s trusted aides approached Zhou Zhiling with a request. Shao Tian wanted a group of loyal, reliable guards trained. Could Zhou Zhiling help find suitable candidates? Zhou Zhilin agreed without hesitation, eager to please.

But by the time he realized these weren’t ordinary guards but highly trained private soldiers, it was too late.

He was riding a tiger and couldn’t dismount. When he tried to confront Shao Tian about it, the man casually explained the truth: these soldiers were being raised in secret for the Second Prince.

The Second Prince, favored by the Emperor, had become a formidable rival to the Crown Prince. Fearing for his position, the Crown Prince had already attempted several assassinations. The Second Prince, cornered, had no choice but to raise a personal army in secret—loyal, elite fighters to protect him and secure his future.

If they succeeded, and the Second Prince ascended the throne, the Zhou family would be rewarded as key contributors.

If they failed? Well, it was just a few thousand soldiers. With the Second Prince involved, no one would dare stir up too much trouble.

Caught in a web of ambition and desperation, Zhou Zhilin couldn’t back out now. He’d been blinded by greed and was in far too deep to turn back.

The scheme had seemed like an opportunity too good to pass up—a chance to earn the Second Prince’s favor and secure unimaginable power. But now, staring into Yin Chengyu’s cold, calculating eyes, Zhou Zhiling could see only his ruin.

It was both a case of riding the tiger with no way to get off and being utterly bewitched by temptation.

“Since then,” Zhou Zhiling began, “I’ve been keeping those soldiers under my wing. At first, the Shao family sent trainers, but once they got the hang of it, Fan Hu took over, keeping them in line while they trained themselves. Every month, like clockwork, I’d send Lord Shao a report.”

When word came that the Second Prince was dead, Zhou Zhiling had thought about disbanding the private troops.

But Shao Tian wouldn’t allow it. He claimed he had a use for them and made Zhou Zhiling continue harboring them. Then, just before the Crown Prince arrived in Huguang for disaster relief, a letter from Shao Tian arrived, full of veiled threats and hollow promises.

Zhou Zhiling had no choice but to comply.

“I’d never dare harm the Crown Prince,” Zhou Zhiling sobbed pitifully, tears streaking his face. “But Shao Tian has my secrets. I can’t defy him.”

“Where are the letters? Hand them over.” Yin Chengyu’s voice was cold as steel, unshaken by Zhou Zhiling’s theatrics.

Sniveling, Zhou Zhiling wiped his tears and scrambled to his feet, crawling over to a hidden compartment behind a wall. With trembling hands, he pulled out the letters and offered them up.

“At first, messengers delivered his commands, but later, everything was written down,” Zhou explained. The stack was meager—five or six letters, each bearing a seal.

Yin Chengyu examined them, his gaze sharp and calculating, before tossing them aside. “Not Shao Tian’s handwriting. The seal doesn’t match either.”

Zhou Zhiling’s face paled as if struck by lightning. He clutched the letters, stammering in disbelief. “Impossible! These orders came directly from Lord Shao! He even met me in person to discuss them…”

His voice faltered, the truth choking him.

Shao Tian had set the trap, and Zhou Zhiling had walked right into it. Those letters he’d kept as leverage were worthless. Shao Tian had been one step ahead, covering his tracks while pulling Zhou Zhiling deeper into his web.

Or perhaps, this had always been Shao Tian’s plan: baiting Zhou Zhiling like a pawn. As the Crown Prince had warned, Zhou Zhiling’s family was destined to be discarded, no matter the outcome.

Deflated and broken, Zhou Zhiling slumped to the ground, his face ashen with despair.

Yin Chengyu felt no pity. Shao Tian’s scheming was obvious, but Zhou Zhiling’s downfall stemmed from his greed. He’d played himself into ruin.

Shao Tian’s reasoning was clear—he was a loyalist to Yin Chengzhang, grooming private troops in Huguang not necessarily to rebel, but as a precaution. Fate, however, had its twists. Yin Chengzhang was dead, Shao Tian’s intricate plans disrupted.

Even if Shao Tian defected, Yin Chengyu wouldn’t trust him. The man’s track record was a minefield. Once Yin Chengyu ascended the throne, Shao Tian would face reckoning.

From Shao Tian’s perspective, anyone but Yin Chengyu on the throne was preferable. So, Shao Tian had made his move, leveraging the private troops one last time. If the plan succeeded, he’d escape unscathed. If it failed, a few forged letters and Zhou Tian’s testimony wouldn’t be enough to incriminate him.

What Shao Tian hadn’t accounted for was Xue Shu’s unexpected presence in Huguang.

Yin Chengyu cast a glance at Xue Shu, a smirk tugging at his lips. Having a clingy companion had its perks.

If Xue Shu hadn’t been there, Yin Chengyu could’ve turned the tide, but it wouldn’t have been as seamless.

Noticing Yin Chengyu’s gaze, Xue Shu blinked, then moved closer, brushing his fingers against Yin Chengyu’s. That fleeting touch sent a shiver up Yin Chengyu’s spine. He curled his fingers slightly, his smirk deepening. Hidden beneath his sleeve, he let his fingers trail teasingly across Xue’s palm.

The light, feathery motion was enough to make Xue Shu’s breath hitch, his eyes blazing.

But the instigator had already turned his attention back to Zhou Zhiling. “The city gates are under bandit control. I need to get out. Do you have a way?”

Crushed and consumed by resentment toward Shao Tian, Zhou Zhiling barely hesitated. If the Crown Prince could return safely to the capital and take Shao Tian down, Zhou Zhiling would call it a victory. If he had to die, Shao Tian wasn’t going to get off easy either.

Desperately eager to please, Zhou Zhiling crawled to Fan Hu’s lifeless body, fumbling for the token at his waist. “The troops are stationed on Phoenix Mountain. They’re loyal to Fan Hu. This token will grant you passage. I still hold some sway with them. If I take the token, they won’t stop us at the gate.” He hesitated, glancing nervously at Yin. “Your Highness and the others could disguise yourselves as my attendants. But we’ll need to keep the group small.”

Yin Chengyu nodded, appraising Zhou Zhiling’s disheveled state. “Clean yourself up. I’ll change into something less conspicuous.”

Relieved he wasn’t being punished, Zhou Zhiling scrambled to prepare.

Yin Chengyu issued crisp instructions to Xue Shu: “Leave four or five elite guards to exit the city with us. The rest stay behind, regroup with Jiang Zheng and Qi Wu, and consolidate the city’s forces. Be ready to strike when ordered.”

Xue Shu handpicked the guards, while the others swiftly dealt with Fan Hu’s body and gathered gray robes for disguises. Quietly, they dispersed to connect with Jiang Zheng.

Once Yin Chengyu and his group had donned the servant garb, they hitched a cart and followed Zhou Zhiling toward the city gate. The night was heavy, but the tension was sharper still.

———TN:

Wait a minute… a pillow?

For sitting? Please.

We all know what that means.

Did they finally tangle the sheets?

Did they finally tear each other apart?

I'm dying to know.

I need details.

I need the juicy details.