Chapter 1101:

Not only was Huang Xiaohe utterly bewildered, but the young official and He Shanxi were equally perplexed. Could this person be Mu Xin’s friend from the martial world?

But such an obscure and frivolous nickname—how bizarre!

To everyone’s surprise, Mu Xin herself looked equally confused, hesitating as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t.

In the martial world, encountering a stranger who suddenly greets you with the familiarity of a decades-long neighbor—while you can’t recall them at all—is nothing short of awkward.

Though Mu Xin was merely a second-rate martial artist, a third-rate heroine, and a bottom-tier “immortal maiden,” she had still wandered the martial world for over a decade. She had met all sorts of people, most of whom were mere acquaintances she barely remembered. Without an eidetic memory, how could she possibly recall every face?

Xu Baozao stood dumbfounded. Had Xu lost his mind? Calling that woman “Fairy Sister”?!

The patrons of Qingmei Fang watched as the man strode forward, ignoring everyone else, his eyes fixed solely on the woman. He grinned broadly and said, “Fairy Sister, don’t you remember? In the last year of Yonghui, at the Lantern Festival in Wuzhou’s Old Jiao Terrace, you saved three people—one of them was a scoundrel with a wooden sword at his waist, surnamed Wen. You took pity on us and even treated us to a meal of Longyuan Tower’s Songjiang perch. Before we parted, you bought a bag of Yongjia tangerines for me to eat on the road.”

Mu Xin blinked and tentatively asked, “What about Old Huang?”

The man, now standing on the steps outside the threshold, replied with a carefree smile, “Gone.”

“So many years have passed,” Mu Xin sighed, then gazed deeply into the man’s eyes. The corners of her lips curled up slowly, like a crescent moon rising from the branches, and she murmured softly, “It really is you.”

The man nodded with a smile, then glanced sideways at the seemingly arrogant but shrewd young official, and briefly eyed the military sabers at the waists of the two elite soldiers behind him. As for Huang Xiaohe, who had overpowered He Shanxi of Sword Pool, he seemed unworthy of even a glance. The man descended the steps and stood before Mu Xin.

Reunited after so many years, the two stared at each other in silence—either their bond wasn’t deep enough, or they simply didn’t know where to begin.

The young master surnamed Liu showed impatience and said with a faint smile, “It seems both of you are accomplices of the assassin. Along with the man and two women at that table using a child as a decoy, you’ll all accompany me to the yamen.”

Pointing around like a general reviewing troops, he included He Shanxi, Gao Tingquan, and others in his sweep. “Let me be blunt—resist, and you’ll be executed on the spot.”

Feigning sudden realization, he “kindly” reminded, “If anyone here is outraged, feel free to lodge a complaint at the local authorities or imitate the assassin. I’ll accept it all.”

The man sitting opposite Xu Baozao abruptly stood up, glaring at the young vice-minister of the Ministry of Justice’s Qingli Department. With righteous indignation, he declared, “Lord Liu, as a vice-minister of the Qingli Department, you hold a fifth-rank position! How dare you knowingly break the law, inciting the Song family’s disciples to commit murder in broad daylight? Moreover, you’ve arrogated the power to execute without trial—this is an abuse of authority!”

The young official, unfazed, smiled gently and asked, “And you are?”

The man pushed his son behind him and replied firmly, “I am Han Yanping, a clerk of Yicheng County in Bozhou!”

The young official paused, then sneered, “You nearly scared me to death. I thought I’d stumbled upon some noble in disguise. Turns out you’re just a petty county clerk. Han, do you know that even your magistrate isn’t qualified to cozy up to me?”

Han Yanping straightened his back, embodying the pride of a scholar, and said coolly, “No matter how high your rank, Lord Liu, it can’t surpass the laws of Liyang.”

The young master sighed, looking at the low-ranking local official with pity. “A frog at the bottom of a well.”

Huang Xiaohe said coldly, “Clerk Han, when I wear the copper fish pouch at my waist, I have the authority to execute any official below the county magistrate in emergencies—with only a record at the Ministry of Justice and no subsequent repercussions.”

The young man chuckled. “This law was personally established by Minister Liu of our Ministry of Justice and approved by His Majesty the Emperor. Do you have any objections, Clerk Han?”

Hearing this for the first time, Han Yanping muttered in despair, “How can this be… This is outrageous…”

Before the dust could settle, another storm arose.

The already tense patrons of Qingmei Fang were startled again, many wishing they could slap themselves for coming here to drink.

From the street corner emerged two groups. The first was small—a middle-aged man dressed like a poor scholar, exuding refinement. To his left was a slightly older man in Shu brocade robes, around forty, bearing both scholarly grace and official prestige. To his right stood a gaunt, cold-faced elder in his sixties, a long saber at his waist and a copper fish pouch identical to Huang Xiaohe’s.

Behind them were over a dozen exceptionally formidable guards, clearly not ordinary soldiers.

These guards maintained a distance of about twenty paces.

At Qingmei Fang, the young master surnamed Liu, upon seeing the central man, displayed rare deference. He descended the steps and bowed slightly in greeting.

Many drinkers instinctively rose, not daring to remain seated.

Seeing the “common folk” in the tavern on edge, the central man smiled and gestured for them to relax. “Please, carry on as you were.”

Then, lowering his voice, he frowned. “Liu Yu?”

Liu Yu, the vice-minister of the Qingli Department, approached and first bowed to the man in brocade robes before addressing his “uncle” softly. “Uncle, the man on the ground is a martial artist from Dongyue Sword Pool. He openly attempted to assassinate me.”

The man Liu Yu called uncle asked, “You’ve never met before. Why would he try to kill you without reason?”

Liu Yu replied calmly, “He acted out of rage.”

The middle-aged man said nothing, merely observing his overly concise nephew.

Liu Yu took a deep breath and added, “Uncle, Mr. Huang can vouch for me.”

The man suddenly smiled. “I trust you wouldn’t dare incite public outrage, Liu Yu.”

Liu Yu forced a smile. “Uncle, don’t scare me like that.”

The man in brocade robes, who had remained silent until now, clasped his hands behind his back and gazed at the martial artists in Qingmei Fang. He said coldly, “There’s no public outrage in Bozhou. Before taking office, I heard that the Song family of Dongyue Sword Pool is quite remarkable—called the foremost martial clan, their wealth and influence rivaling that of generations of high-ranking officials. It was even joked that if a rebellion broke out in Dongyue, the Song family’s word would carry more weight than the military orders of the regional governor and generals! So I’ve always wondered—how lofty is this Song family that most officials in Bozhou feel like tenants in their own land, calling themselves ‘parents in other counties, grandsons in Bozhou’? I wonder if, after I officially assume office, I’ll even be allowed through their gates.”

Though his tone was light, the underlying message was crystal clear to up-and-coming officials like Liu Yu.

The words were laced with lethal intent—more deadly than Huang Xiaohe’s swift sword.

The official didn’t lower his voice, and Han Yanping caught about half of it. First shocked, then flushed with anger, he opened his mouth to speak—only for his wife to grip his sleeve tightly, tears in her eyes as she shook her head.

Han Yanping looked down at his children, his heart wrenching, lips trembling.

His career didn’t matter. Even his own safety could be set aside. But with his wife and children caught in the storm, how could he act on impulse like Mu Xin of Sword Pool?

Torn, Han Yanping stood frozen.

Liu Yu’s uncle whispered, “Handle this as you see fit—neither dragging it out nor tipping them off. The balance is yours to strike.”

Liu Yu beamed. “Don’t worry, Uncle.”

The man nodded and strolled away down the left street.

The brocade-robed man, who had scorned the Song family, also refrained from further discussion, sticking to idle chatter.

The saber-wielding elder and Huang Xiaohe, both six-fish masters recorded by the Ministry of Justice, never once exchanged glances.

Mutual disdain wasn’t exclusive to scholars.

Huang Xiaohe’s copper fish pouch was earned through merit, while the elder’s came effortlessly as a first-grade Diamond Realm warrior.

Moreover, one was a swordsman, the other a saber-wielder—it’d be stranger if they got along.

Liu Yu’s arrogance neither swelled nor diminished. Perhaps influenced by the two senior officials, the young scion of the Liaodong aristocracy adopted a more measured, bureaucratic demeanor. He didn’t bother with petty figures like Clerk Han Yanping and his family, nor did he press He Shanxi and Mu Xin further. He didn’t even acknowledge the man who had intervened earlier.

But this didn’t mean Liu Yu was merciful. Having used Huang Xiaohe’s swift sword, he now wielded the bureaucracy’s subtler blade. Liu Yu revealed his decisive side, proving he wasn’t just a pompous noble.

The patrons of Qingmei Fang didn’t dare linger, scattering like startled birds—some even forgetting to pay, though none of the staff dared protest.

“Magistrate Li, please take the corpse to the local yamen for identification before further action.”

Li Xinyuan, the Ministry of Justice’s magistrate, obeyed and left, one of the saber-wielding soldiers dragging the body away.

Liu Yu approached He Shanxi and Mu Xin, who stood side by side. First, he smiled at the young pair hiding behind them.

“Half-ripe plums are too tart. Honestly, I only wanted to borrow your charm as a drinking companion—no ill intent. But fate can be kind or cruel. Ours is the latter. Little girl, don’t be so quick-tempered in the future. What’s the martial world but a pond? No matter how grand, it’s just the Listening Tide Lake of the Xu family in Beiliang.”

“Little one, little one—I’ll remember your Longye Ye family.”

Liu Yu found no thrill in toying with the boy, Ye Geng, and quickly turned his attention to the two Sword Pool women.

“He Shanxi, this turmoil is far from over. Whether it ends in fortune or disaster depends entirely on you… and this Miss Mu.”