Chapter 150 — The Crown Prince's Visitor

CHAPTER 150

The Crown Prince's Visitor

Wei Chengyuan came to the medical court after the evening meal.

No procession announced him. The Martial Palace delegate walked through the gate with one attendant, handed his badge to the guard and entered before Jin Jian had finished straightening his robe.

Sima Yu tried to sit up.

Pain stopped him halfway.

“Stay where you are,” Wei Chengyuan said.

He took the chair beside the bed. His late Golden Core cultivation filled the small room without any deliberate release of pressure. Gao Rui lowered his eyes and carried the empty medicine bowls outside.

Jin Jian waited at the door.

“You requested a private visit,” Wei Chengyuan said.

“Yes,” Sima Yu replied. “It concerns the Wei branch in Yunze.”

The delegate's gaze sharpened.

Jin Jian understood the glance that followed and stepped out. The door closed quietly behind him.

Sima Yu had prepared the order of his words while the healer worked. He began with names rather than accusations.

“Wei Renshan,” Sima Yu said. “His son Wei Kuo. Their disappearance, the later investigation, and a sword brought into Great Liang's capital.”

Wei Chengyuan rested one hand on the chair arm.

“What do you know?” Wei Chengyuan asked.

“Shi Feng travelled through Yunze,” Sima Yu replied. “He had dealings with the Wei household before he reached us. A maker's mark on his sword was recognized later.”

“By whom?” Wei Chengyuan asked.

“Pei Rong,” Sima Yu said. “That recognition doesn't prove the killing. I understand the difference.”

Wei Chengyuan's expression suggested he preferred the qualification to a confident lie.

Sima Yu continued.

“There was also a private witness account in the Wei inquiry,” Sima Yu said. “Gao An. I don't possess his original statement. I can give you the route by which it was reported.”

“Then give me that,” Wei Chengyuan said.

The prince pointed toward the drawer beside his bed. Wei Chengyuan opened it and took out the prepared paper.

Sima Yu had written only what he could support. Adding a false detail might interest the delegate for one evening and destroy the usefulness of the rest tomorrow.

He wanted a lasting problem for Shi Feng.

Wei Chengyuan read the page twice.

The Yunze branch was distant. A Great Sect contained more Wei relatives than any one elder could keep close to his own table. Distance didn't make the deaths pleasant, especially if a nineteen-year-old had carried a dead clansman's sword through markets where the maker's mark could be recognized.

“Why didn't your court send this earlier?” Wei Chengyuan asked.

Sima Yu kept his breathing shallow.

“The evidence was incomplete,” Sima Yu replied. “My authority over the relevant offices was also reduced.”

“Because you used royal service against this same man,” Wei Chengyuan said.

Sima Yu said nothing.

The delegate folded the paper.

“I watched your match,” Wei Chengyuan said.

The prince's face tightened despite the medicine dulling his pain.

“He concealed what he could do,” Sima Yu said.

“Everyone conceals something,” Wei Chengyuan replied. “You concealed a pill badly.”

Sima Yu looked down at the bandage across his chest. There was no useful answer to that.

Wei Chengyuan rose.

“I'll verify what you've given me,” Wei Chengyuan said. “If you have facts, send facts. Keep your embarrassment out of them.”

He left with the paper inside his sleeve.

Jin Jian returned after the delegate passed through the outer gate.

“Will Martial Palace intercede?” Jin Jian asked.

“Not over the notice,” Sima Yu replied.

The court officer looked disappointed, then relieved that he wouldn't need to delay the report again.

He set fresh water beside the bed. Sima Yu didn't drink it.

His thoughts followed Wei Chengyuan instead. A private account would need checking. Pei Rong would need questioning. Someone would trace the sword, the road, and the dead men whose absence had first made the Wei household search.

Shi Feng had survived royal servants.

Let him explain himself to Martial Palace.

Sima Yu closed his eyes and found no comfort in the thought. The crack in his foundation remained where it was. Revenge imagined from a bed couldn't repair it.

At his inn, Shi Feng was eating a bowl of noodles when a Martial Palace attendant entered the common hall.

The man asked Kang Liu which room belonged to Great Liang's Shi Feng. His voice was polite, and he carried no written summons.

Kang Liu pointed toward the back table instead.

Shi Feng put down his chopsticks.

The attendant, Meng Qi, approached and bowed slightly.

“Delegate Wei Chengyuan asks whether you possessed a sword acquired in Yunze,” Meng Qi said.

Shi Feng looked at him for one quiet breath.

“Yes. I sold it to Pei Rong at Shuanghe Ferry,” Shi Feng replied.

“May I ask how it came into your hands?” Meng Qi said.

“You may ask,” Shi Feng replied. “I'll discuss it with the person who wants to know.”

Meng Qi's expression barely changed. He had enough training to recognize an answer that wouldn't improve through repetition.

“I'll report that,” Meng Qi said.

He left without touching the table or raising his voice.

Shi Feng resumed eating. The noodles had begun to soften, but they were still warm.

He didn't need much time to guess where the inquiry had begun.

Sima Yu had spent the day in a medical bed. His servants couldn't kill Shi Feng, and his own strength had failed before the stands. Information was one of the few weapons left within reach.

Wei Chengyuan's surname supplied the rest.

Shi Feng finished the bowl and paid. Upstairs, he took the sale note from his everyday bag and checked Pei Rong's seal. The merchant owned Wei Renshan's old sword now. His current blade was the plain refined artifact he'd purchased after entering Foundation Establishment. He remembered Wei Renshan advancing on him, certain that a dead son entitled him to another person's life.

That memory hadn't become less clear with distance.

Shi Feng folded the sale note again and put it beside his travel papers.

Tomorrow, twenty-seven people would emerge from the second round. He intended to be ready for the trials after that.

Martial Palace could bring its questions when it was ready to ask them directly.

He checked the practice appointment once more and set it beneath the lamp. Questions from a sect delegate could wait; his own work still required steady hands in the morning.