Chapter 102: The Day of Yin and Yang

Yanwu County was, after all, merely a minor magistracy. There were only two jailers, both well past their fifties, who took turns standing watch every other night.

"Cough, cough, cough. You two are lucky; tomorrow is the Yin-Yang Day, so no heads will be rolling."

The old jailer cast a glance at Feng Yewu and Lu Jue, who were huddled together for warmth. After a few raspy coughs and a remark of grim fortune, he departed. The two captives exchanged a look; Feng Yewu’s eyes were filled with confusion, unable to comprehend the meaning of "Yin-Yang Day." Lu Jue offered a weak, gentle smile and explained it to him. Feng Yewu sighed and whispered, "It is but one extra day. It cannot change the outcome."

Enduring his injuries, Lu Jue pulled Feng Yewu closer into his embrace. Having poured out their hearts to one another, they spoke little, yet each cherished these few remaining moments all the more.

The next day, the Yanwu County magistracy was deserted, as if everyone had forgotten the existence of Feng Yewu and Lu Jue. Even the jailers on duty were nowhere to be found. The arrival of the Yin-Yang Day meant that not only in the small town of Yanwu but across the entire fiefdom of the Prince of Pingyi, every household was preoccupied with ancestral rites, and all official business had been set aside.

After midday, Magistrate Fang Yang and his secretary, having just finished their ritual offerings with their families, had barely sat down when a sudden gust of wind swept through the hall. Yang Guang appeared in the back office, expressionless, standing directly before them. He spoke in a cold, sharp tone: "Why were those two not executed today?"

Fang Yang and the secretary were startled by Yang Guang’s sudden appearance. They had not even caught a glimpse of how he had arrived. A chilling murderous aura permeated the air. Exchanging a fearful glance, they replied tremblingly, "My lord, you may not be aware, but we have a custom here: it is forbidden to perform executions on Yin-Yang Day. Even the executioner has gone home to pay his respects. There is simply no one available."

Upon hearing this, Yang Guang’s brows furrowed slightly, and his icy gaze shifted to the secretary. The secretary felt a chill run down his spine; he immediately knelt, nodding frantically to confirm the truth of the matter. Yang Guang knew he could not easily handle the task himself. Seeing that the two men appeared sincere under his interrogation, he suppressed his urge to kill and gave a brief, stern warning: "No later than tomorrow. Do not fail me." With that, he turned and left, leaving the two men in a state of panic and unease.

At the Prince of Pingyi’s residence, after the meal, the Princess and the servants were busy preparing for the evening’s rites. The Yin-Yang Day rites required worship at both dawn and dusk. When Prince Wang Changgeng had heard from the Princess that morning that it was Yin-Yang Day, he had felt a tremor of doubt. In all his calculations, he had forgotten this custom. Since no word had arrived from Yanwu County by the time the midday meal was over, he understood that no news would be forthcoming today. Yet, there was also no movement from the Prince of Beichang. Wang Changgeng could no longer sit still; an irrepressible anxiety made him pace the hall like an ant on a hot pan.

... ...

Far away in the capital, Wei Nanqi was busy with Sun Changxi, pouring over old case files in hopes of finding a trail. Suddenly, a servant reported that a man and a woman were seeking an audience. The man claimed to be the heir of the Prince of Changwu and begged for help, saying that "Young Master Ye" was in danger.

Both Wei Nanqi and Sun Changxi had visited the capital’s music house and had heard of "Young Master Ye," which made their hearts tighten. Was "Young Master Ye" not the alias of Feng Yewu? Wei Nanqi hurried to have his subordinates bring the two inside.

A moment later, a man and a woman appeared, looking utterly disheveled and clad in simple, coarse garments. Chen Pingwu was supporting a very weak Wang Jia as they walked into the Ministry of Justice, travel-worn and weary. Wei Nanqi looked at Chen Pingwu with a hint of doubt. He had once met Chen Pingwu at court, but the man’s current appearance was so plain that Wei Nanqi dared not confirm his identity. Sun Changxi stood quietly by Wei Nanqi’s side, his eyes filled with vigilance.

Chen Pingwu helped Wang Jia to a seat before bowing and cupping his hands to Wei Nanqi and Sun Changxi. "Which of you is Magistrate Wei?"

Wei Nanqi nodded slightly, acknowledging his identity. "I am Wei Nanqi. You say Young Master Ye is in danger—do you have proof?"

Wei Nanqi was a cautious man. Although Chen Pingwu’s demeanor carried a trace of aristocratic grace, it was difficult to fully trust him based on words alone. Furthermore, the idea of the Prince of Changwu’s heir coming to save Feng Yewu was suspicious. Chen Pingwu, fueled by worry for Feng Yewu, felt a surge of anger. Proof? If there were proof, would he have needed to come begging for help? Just as he was about to retort, the weak Wang Jia spoke up.

"Magistrate Wei, I have a token... a token personally given to me by Young Master Ye."

Chen Pingwu paused, then quickly walked over, took the token, and handed it to Wei Nanqi. Wei Nanqi examined the waist medallion Lu Jue had entrusted to Wang Jia. He believed it, for such an item would be nearly impossible to seize unless Lu Jue were dead, and Wang Jia possessed no martial arts, while Chen Pingwu, though skilled, was clearly no match for Lu Jue. However, when he saw the envelope, he was stunned.

Wei Nanqi frowned, looking at Wang Jia with a questioning gaze. As it turned out, the evidence Feng Yewu had personally obtained from Li Ru’s home and given to Wang Jia had, for some unknown reason, been soaked in water, leaving the text completely blurred and illegible. Wang Jia saw this and bowed her head in shame and despair.

Chen Pingwu urged anxiously, "I will explain the matter of the letters later! Saving him is the priority now!"

Hearing this, Wei Nanqi and Sun Changxi immediately nodded and began arranging for their men to depart at once.

Back at the Yanwu County magistracy, Fang Yang and the secretary struggled to their feet, bracing one another. Born into poverty, they had spent the first half of their lives clawing their way to their current positions. Yet, facing a master of slaughter like Yang Guang, they were but ants trying to shake an elephant.

"Secretary, it is fated. Neither you nor I can escape this," Fang Yang sighed helplessly. The secretary gave a bitter smile and nodded in resignation. After sitting back in his chair, Fang Yang’s gaze shifted, and he looked at the secretary with sincerity. "Secretary, you should leave. Once we kill those two tomorrow, I fear both our lives will be forfeit."

Yang Guang’s murderous aura had confirmed Fang Yang’s suspicions: the Prince of Changwu had sent this man to eliminate them once the task was done. Having felt the unfathomable pressure of Yang Guang’s presence, Fang Yang knew his time was short; this must be the legendary power of a Grandmaster. The secretary looked at him with lingering attachment; they had walked this path together for so long, and he found it hard to simply abandon Fang Yang.