58 The Heart of Wuji II (2/2)
Bang–––
Yet another hit occurred when the gong stick, which had pierced through the gong and flew toward the entrance, smashed right into it.
Amid the gongs, Meng Fuyao's crisp voice could be heard declaring, ”Three knocks and blood will pour. This lousy gong lasted only one strike, so I had no choice but land the second knock on your door. I'll be going for a head for the third knock, and as for whose blood will stain my clothes... I can't say for sure yet.”
The bailiff stood rooted to the ground, his once sluggish look immediately turning muddle. Turning to see a big round dent on the entrance door, he stroked his head with a trembling hand and stuttered, ”I'll go inform him. I'll go...”
”No need!” A cold shout came through as the door opened. An old, sharp-chinned man stood behind it, a big batch of bailiffs following behind. The door guard hurriedly rushed over to greet him.
Ashen-faced, Master Su waved his sleeve, howling, ”Who dares to cause such a scene? Destroying property and insulting me? Do you really think I have no place in this court?”
Meng Fuyao cast a glance toward him. 'That's Old Sir Su, the assistant official? A Han man himself but unwilling to help his brothers? The Old Sir Su that would rather throw his men out to the Rongs?”
She glared at him, subconsciously gritting her teeth. After some time, she let out a beaming smile and clasped her hands sweetly together. ”I lack in manners, Sir Su.”
”Now you know it? What a pity. That's not enough to get you out of trouble,” Sir Su stared furiously at the fellow before him, convinced that the latter's switch from arrogance to deference had everything to do with his authoritative powers. Confident, he flung his sleeve, shouting, ”Men! Take him down, use the cangue on him for three days and leave the citizens hanging dry.”
The bailiffs responded immediately, rushing forward to grab Meng Fuyao, who obediently let them tie her up. Zong Yue stood by the side, watching calmly with no plans of intervening. Only when a bailiff clumsily slammed into her shoulder did his eyes twitch a little.
Upon seeing that Meng Fuyao was dragged away by a bunch of men, whose hands were clamped against her shoulders, Zong Yue could no longer control the twitching of his brows. ”Hold on.”
Meng Fuyao turned around grumpily. 'You're too impatient. I'm not done playing.'
Ignoring her look, he stated simply, ”It's not convenient to cangue this person.”
'Eh?” Sir Su knitted his brows. ”Who do you think you are to tell me what and what not to do?” Sir Su's nose was high up in the air, and without even giving Zong Yue a glance he continued impatiently, ”Take away-” He stopped abruptly.
Opposite of him, Zong Yue had extended a palm out, revealing a black tablet. On it, a glistening and golden De had been embossed.
It was King De's command tablet that symbolized the descendants of the imperial family, and it was as good as having the prince with them at that moment.
”Zong Yue,” he introduced politely and amiably. ”I'm just an ordinary person whom the King had very kindly been favoring. I have been given the right to travel between the mansion and the fiefdom. There's no need to say, but this hall your seventh-grade self is residing in is, in fact, the King's Hall of the Tiger's Might. There shouldn't be a problem for me to speak a few words here, then.”
Sir Su stood still.
Zong Yue.
The legendary man.
His origins were mysterious, and he had studied under a doctor in the mountains. He was naturally talented and intelligent and had started journeying when he was 20. Across the five region continents, martial arts were commonly practiced, and the imperial family was no exception. Injuries and illnesses were inevitable parts of life that did not pick and choose victims.
Even high-status people were not safe from them, so physicians had always been highly regarded. Needless to say, a god-like figure like Zong Yue was a man that monarchs from respective nations hoped to win over. He had long been licensed to move about freely, without the need to pay respect to monarchs upon encounters. Kings who wished to see him would need to make formal invites. Countless lives had been owed to him, and while he was merely a physician, his status was no lower, or even higher than that of a prince.
If Zhangsun Wuji was a god-like in the field of politics, Zong Yue was the equivalent in the field of medicine; the former took land, power, and lives whereas the latter saved lives and cured illnesses.
A man like Sir Su couldn't normally get close to Zong Yue, and for him to be looking right at the clean-looking youth, dressed in a snow-white robe, he was lost for words.
Zong Yue smilingly pointed at Meng Fuyao before asking courteously, ”Can you let my friend go?”
”...Ah, yes, yes!” Sir Su hurriedly ordered his men to release her.
He had wanted to let Meng Fuyao go, but she did not comply. Shunning the men, she asked, ”Why are you untying me? I want the cangue! Move aside!”
”Don't untie me. No!” Meng Fuyao shamelessly dodged their hands, determined to stay tied up. ”Cangue, cangue! How are you going to hang the citizens dry if you let me go?”
She sneered and jumped through the door and toward the inner hall. ”Where's the cangue? Quick! Let's not waste time!”
Helpless, the bailiffs let go and looked pleadingly at Sir Su. After a long time, Sir Su walked over to Meng Fuyao and personally untied the ropes. ”Little fellow, I have been rude. Please don't take offense...”