Chapter 203 — The Trustworthy Old Man

When Shen Mu heard the news, he frowned slightly and glanced at the Imperial Preceptor Jingping beside him. The Imperial Preceptor's face was filled with grief. "I must go to the Prince of Zhenbei's mansion and offer my condolences," he said.

Shen Mu asked in a low voice, "Imperial Preceptor, why has the Prince of Zhenbei rebelled?"

"He is not rebelling against the emperor. He is rebelling against me, for the Ling clan's throne."

The Imperial Preceptor said softly, "My power had grown too great. It made him uneasy; he felt certain I would overturn the Ling rule. You are right — I ought to take a wife. Keep Heaven's principle in the heart, yet grant human desire its share as well."

A strange expression crossed Shen Mu's face.

A man like the Imperial Preceptor, setting up a household and a family? It had a touch of the absurd — and yet it was precisely what was about to happen.

"I must first return to my mansion and change into plain mourning clothes. The Prince of Zhenbei rendered great service to the state. Though he never approved of the way I handle affairs, he was a man worthy of respect, and I must pay my respects."

The Imperial Preceptor parted from him, saying, "Once I am in the capital, my injury will no longer require your attention."

Shen Mu nodded. The Imperial Preceptor had once been gravely wounded in a surprise attack, yet his injuries had long since healed, which showed that a miracle physician must be at his side. Once in the capital, Shen Mu's treatment was no longer needed.

When the Imperial Preceptor returned to his mansion, he suddenly grew alert. He did not enter through the main gate but vaulted straight in over the wall. He cast his eyes around, and everything seemed in place — all the wards and seals of the house stood intact.

Still he did not relax in the least. He called out in a low voice, "Old Fu? Yuanqing?"

No voice answered. The Imperial Preceptor's mansion was strangely silent.

He walked deeper in, and when he reached the great hall he saw several of the mansion's servants and guards bound up tight and stacked on one another like a human pyramid.

The Imperial Preceptor frowned, and then he saw Fu Yuanqing. The Little Poison King had been stripped of his clothes, bound hand and foot with cords, and hung from the rafters of the hall. His tongue lolled out, tied with a golden cord from which hung a great iron weight of unknown heft.

A frown on his face, the Imperial Preceptor sent a flicker of sword light from his fingertip, slicing the golden cord and then the ropes about his body. Fu Yuanqing fell and hit the ground hard. Only then did the Imperial Preceptor realize that all of his cultivation had been sealed — even the divine storehouse inside him was sealed, and not a scrap of his power could be drawn out.

The Imperial Preceptor undid his seal, then removed the seals on the other servants and guards as well, and asked with a dark face, "What happened?"

"I don't know."

Fu Yuanqing shook his head, ashamed. "I was sealed before I saw a single thing, and then I was strung up. Still without seeing anything, my tongue was pulled out and an iron weight hung from it — I couldn't even call for help!"

"Master, has our mansion become haunted?"

The other servants looked terrified as well. "I saw nothing either, and the next thing I knew I was stacked up with the rest, unable to move!"

"Haunted?"

The Imperial Preceptor shook his head. "Not a ghost. It is simply that the man moved so fast none of you could even see him. I know who it is. He broke into my mansion for no other reason than to take back his leg while I was away. If I am not mistaken, the vault where I keep my treasures should already be empty."

He led everyone to the vault. The seal on the vault was still there, untouched.

Fu Yuanqing breathed a sigh of relief and laughed. "You've guessed wrong, Imperial Preceptor. The seal is still intact. I expect the thief couldn't break your seal, so he never touched the contents of the vault."

The Imperial Preceptor sighed. "A phantom leaves no trace; to steal heaven and pass the sun, why need he undo any seal? He could pass straight through it without touching a single thread of it. The vault is indeed empty."

No one believed him.

The Imperial Preceptor opened the seal and pushed the door in. The room that had held all manner of precious things stood utterly empty, cleaned out to the last speck.

And on the wall facing the door, where a painting had hung — the Sword God Bearing His Sword, painted by the crown prince of the kingdom of Tiantu in years past — that painting was also nowhere to be found.

In its place hung a page of writing so crooked and so hideously ugly it was a shock: "Imperial Preceptor Jingping, I have taken back my leg, and I accept with thanks all the treasures you hoarded. I took very good care of your servants, so no need to worry. Oh, and I slept in your bed, and when I woke up I left a nice heap of dung in it. I also brewed you a pot of fragrant tea in your study. Our grievances are settled — no need to thank me!"

The Imperial Preceptor's face darkened. He whirled and hurried to the bedchamber. When he threw back the covers, the reek was overwhelming; he pinched his nostrils and waved his hand. "Old Fu, throw it out! Throw it all out!"

Old Fu hastily rolled up the quilt and the mattress too, but the whole bed still stank. Old Fu asked, "Master, must we throw out the bed as well?" "Throw it out!"

The Imperial Preceptor waved his hand and hurried off to the study, where a rank, urinous odor hung in the air. There was a yellowish liquid in the teapot, clearly not tea.

With a sweep of his sleeve, the Imperial Preceptor sent the teapot and cups flying out the window, his face livid. "Wretch! Taking back his own leg I could pardon, but he eats, drinks, shits, and sleeps in my mansion and ruins my peace! Old Fu, prepare new tea things and fresh bedding."

Old Fu hesitated for a moment. "Master, there isn't much money left in the house..."

The Imperial Preceptor was taken aback, then mused, "The emperor's rewards won't arrive for several more days. My salary is drawn once a month, but it isn't settled until the start of the month. Is this month's salary already gone?"

Old Fu said, "When you set out this time, you took more than half your salary with you. Of what was left, modest gifts had to be given when the princes and ministers marked their birthdays, and gifts when their households gained children. A few days ago the Empress Dowager in the palace had her birthday, and I prepared a gift — but the palace still found it shabby."

The Imperial Preceptor's head ached. "And now that the Prince of Zhenbei has passed away, I must prepare another gift. Is the house truly out of money? Is there anything left to pawn?"

"Well..." Old Fu hesitated and made no answer. The Imperial Preceptor looked around. The house was not small, yet it held only a few pieces of furniture — nothing that could be pawned.

He had always held that dallying with playthings saps ambition, and so his food, clothing, and daily expenditures had all been kept to the barest minimum, with no antiques to speak of. What he collected tended to be strange oddities — the Lame Elder's divine leg, the Tiantu crown prince's painting, and such — and those very objects had been stolen away by the Shadow Thief, who had slipped into his house.

"Can I draw my salary in advance?"

Old Fu asked, "Master, would you throw away all sense of face?"

The Imperial Preceptor hesitated. "Could I borrow a bit?"

Old Fu shook his head. "There's a war on, and the gentlemen who are close to you have all marched off with troops and are away from home. Besides, you've already borrowed from them many times without ever repaying — people would speak ill of you. With the heads of their households away, who would lend money to me if I went calling? Unless you went yourself."