Chapter 254 — Read Aloud

CHAPTER 254

Read Aloud

The Hall of Ten Thousand Strikes stood on the northern ridge of Martial Palace, and it had been built so that no visitor could stand in it without feeling small.

Its pillars were red stone, each thick enough to hold up a gatehouse. Its floor was black marble worn smooth by generations of boots. At the far end, on a dais of nine steps, sat an old man in a plain grey robe with his hands resting on his knees.

Wei Chengyuan did not look like a man who raised his voice. He had not needed to for forty years.

“The border post sent this at dusk,” Deputy Qu Jiang said. He stood three steps below the dais, holding a single sheet of paper with a Sky Pavilion postal slip pinned to its corner. “It came by public post, addressed to the Hall's record office. The clerk opened it before he saw the sender.”

“Read it,” Wei Chengyuan said. “Aloud, Qu Jiang. I would like to hear what my clerk heard.”

Qu Jiang bowed and cleared his throat. Around the hall, inner disciples and elders stood in two quiet rows.

“To the esteemed hall of Martial Palace,” Qu Jiang read. “Thank you for your generous deposit and your instructive visit. Three storage rings were received in good order. One junior was escorted home with a full bill for medicine, and the amount of time lost to guidance has been entered at a fair rate. We hope to host you again.”

He paused.

“There's a signature,” Qu Jiang said.

“Read that, too,” Wei Chengyuan said.

“Gongsun Ce, Artificer Hall,” Qu Jiang said.

The hall was very quiet.

Wei Chengyuan took the letter and slowly read it himself. The inner disciples waited in silence. He held the paper near the candle at his elbow, checking the signature before laying it down.

“Who is Gongsun Ce?” Wei Chengyuan asked.

“The Third Prince of Great Song, Elder,” Qu Jiang said. “He was named core disciple at the Quarterly Assessment, first place. He builds puppets.”

“Puppets,” Wei Chengyuan said.

“And the champion?” Wei Chengyuan said.

“Shi Feng is listed as an inner disciple,” Qu Jiang said. “His name appears nowhere on this letter. Only on the medical bills.”

Wei Chengyuan put the paper down on the table and folded his hands.

“The spar series,” Wei Chengyuan said. “Three of my disciples. Three rings. And a prince signs the thanks.”

“Yes, Elder,” Qu Jiang said.

“Why?” Wei Chengyuan said.

Nobody answered.

“Think,” Wei Chengyuan said. His voice was neither loud nor unkind. “He has taken three of my disciples' rings, and sent me a polite letter, and signed it with the name of a royal prince.”

He tapped the paper once.

“Someone put a prince’s name between me and this debt,” Wei Chengyuan said. “Perhaps Artificer Hall wants us to believe Great Song stands behind the champion. Perhaps the boy means to kill with a borrowed knife and simply wants my anger directed elsewhere. Either way, they expect me to hesitate. I’ll answer the name they supplied.”

He turned his head toward the secretary seated at the side of the dais.

“Write from Martial Palace’s Hall of Ten Thousand Strikes to Gongsun Ce, Third Prince of Great Song, core disciple of Artificer Hall,” Wei Chengyuan ordered. “Protest the unlawful retention of our disciples’ property under the guise of friendly spars. Put ‘unlawful’ in it twice. Deliver it before witnesses.”

The secretary dipped a brush and began to write.

“Do not mention the champion. Do not mention Shi Feng at all. If the boy wants a prince in front of him, let the prince understand what it means to stand there,” Wei Chengyuan said.

In the front row, Yuan Kuang's jaw tightened.

Yuan Kuang stood with thick wrists behind his back and a fresh scar across one hand. He’d been an inner disciple barely a month. Since the spar series began, he’d sharpened his saber twice. He wanted the chance to use it.

“Elder Wei,” Yuan Kuang said.

Wei Chengyuan looked down at him from the dais. It was not an invitation. It was the look of a man who allowed one sentence.

“This disciple asks to carry the protest,” Yuan Kuang said. “In person. To the border market.”

“Why?” Wei Chengyuan said.

“He’ll be there on market day,” Yuan Kuang said. “We’ve never seen him fight. If he’s shielding Shi Feng, let him prove he can. If not, he still owes us an answer for putting his name on that letter. Whoever tied the bell must untie it.”

Wei Chengyuan looked at Yuan Kuang for a long time.

“A challenge is not a protest,” Wei Chengyuan said.

“No, Elder,” Yuan Kuang said.

“A formal challenge, with witnesses, by one inner disciple to a core disciple of another sect, is a friendly spar,” Wei Chengyuan said. “Under the rules Artificer Hall posted at the border market.”

“Yes, Elder,” Yuan Kuang said.

“Then carry the letter,” Wei Chengyuan said. “And do not lose.”