Chapter 340 — The Bill to the Chief Disciple

CHAPTER 340

The Bill to the Chief Disciple

The Herb Hall of Cuiping Town was full by the second lamp.

Farmers stood along the walls with their hats in their hands. Three tables faced one another across the floor. At the head sat Lin Langtian in his best robe, with the inspector's seal on a cushion in front of him and a look of deep, solemn justice on his face.

“Martial Palace,” Lin Langtian said. “State your complaint.”

Yuan Kuang rose with a new belt and a face full of resentment.

“Three charges,” Yuan Kuang said. “First, Shi Feng killed the guardian alone, with no witness. Second, he stole my token and left it at the den to frame my team. Third, a stolen kill is void, so the lotus is ours.”

“Is that all?” Lin Langtian asked.

“It’s plenty!” Yuan Kuang snapped, offended by the question.

“Junior Brother, sit,” Lin Langtian said, as Shi Feng began to rise. “You're injured. This senior brother will speak for you. It's cheaper.”

He stood, and the room grew quiet.

“On the first charge,” Lin Langtian said, “the witnesses are a dead serpent sixty feet long, and Zhu Liu's receipts. Martial Palace counted nineteen strikes yesterday. The Valley counted nineteen too, and was kind enough to note that fourteen of those landed in already-open wounds. Is Martial Palace now saying its own strikes did not count?”

A ripple of laughter ran down the farmers' bench.

“That's not the point!” Yuan Kuang said.

“The second charge,” Lin Langtian continued. “A token was found at the den. It's yours. You say it was stolen. Excellent. Then I ask the hall: what sort of sect loses an inner disciple's token while its sentry walks the rope every hour?”

“…”

“A sect whose sentry was asleep,” a farmer muttered.

“Or a sect that doesn't know where its tokens go,” Lin Langtian said, gazing at the ceiling. “Which, to be fair, is also the answer to many questions about Martial Palace.”

“You insult us!” Yuan Kuang shouted.

“I’m describing what happened,” Lin Langtian replied. “Third charge. Shi Feng killed the serpent and took the lotus. Asking for it afterward doesn’t make it yours. Water that has been spilled can’t be gathered back.” He pressed a hand over his heart. “Friends, I have watched a great many truces. I’ve never seen a team lose so thoroughly and then expect the judge to pretend it won.”

“And one more thing,” Lin Langtian said, and his voice dropped. “The male serpent. It walked a day and a night to find its home. It went past every camp on this shelf. Past the Valley's. Past mine. It went to one tent. Do you know why?”

No one spoke.

“I'm only asking,” Lin Langtian said. “I'm an innocent man with a banner.”

The Valley's table rose.

Bai Chenxi stood first, with her sword at her hip and her face like frost. “The Valley witnessed Shi Feng's strikes,” Bai Chenxi said. “All twelve, in front. We also witnessed Martial Palace's nineteen, behind. We don't call that a fair truce.”

“We don't,” Su Wanning said, on her feet. “We think it was cheating! Big cheating! The kind that makes you want to...”

“Su Wanning,” Ling Qingzhu said.

Su Wanning sat. Ling Qingzhu did not rise. She spoke from her seat, without looking at anybody, in the calm voice she used for official matters.

“The Valley has no complaint against Artificer Hall,” Ling Qingzhu said. “The Valley withdraws its claim to the lotus. We have a complaint about Martial Palace's counting. We'll file it with the inspector.”

“You're welcome to,” Lin Langtian said happily. “Zhu Liu, a receipt.”

Yuan Kuang looked from the Valley table to the farmers, and from the farmers to Lin Langtian's solemn, shameless face. His mouth worked. His team shifted behind him.

“We're leaving,” Yuan Kuang said thickly. “A gentleman's revenge is not too late even after ten years. Martial Palace will hear of this.”

“Hear what?” Lin Langtian asked. “A record of its own nineteen strikes? Take a copy.”

They left with nothing. Zhu Liu rushed after them with a stamped copy anyway.

Shi Feng stood at the inn counter at dawn.

The innkeeper, a round man named Lou, laid out the bill with great respect. Four rooms, six nights, one ox stall, one bathtub, one broken chair. One hundred and sixty-three stones. At the bottom, a clean space for a signature.

Shi Feng took the brush. Beside it sat the Chief Disciple's seal, which Lin Langtian had handed to him the night before with a yawn and the words, “Stamp the ruling, Junior Brother, I'm tired.”

He wrote in a flat, clear hand: Chief Disciple Lin Langtian, inspection expenses. He stamped it twice.

“This is the Chief Disciple's own seal,” Innkeeper Lou said, peering at it.

“It is,” Shi Feng said.

“He’s responsible?” Innkeeper Lou asked, checking the seal again.

“He's the inspector,” Shi Feng said. “Every inspection pays for itself eventually.”

Innkeeper Lou studied the red seal. It was genuine, and the written instruction named the Chief Disciple himself. He bowed, satisfied that he could collect the bill.

Upstairs, a window creaked.

Shi Feng picked up his bag. Behind him, the stairs shook as a man in nightclothes raced down them with one boot on. Lin Langtian reached the foot of the stairs, saw the counter, saw the bill, and stopped dead.

“Junior Brother!” Lin Langtian cried. “My seal!”

“You lent it,” Shi Feng said.

“For a ruling!” Lin Langtian protested, rushing toward the counter.

“It was a ruling,” Shi Feng replied, holding the signed bill where he could see it.

“Innkeeper!” Lin Langtian said, spinning. “This is a misunderstanding...”

“One hundred and sixty-three stones,” Innkeeper Lou said, rolling up his sleeves.

Lin Langtian ran. Innkeeper Lou ran after him. They went out of the door and down the street at full speed, one hopping on a single boot, the other waving a bill like a cleaver.

Zhu Liu watched from the doorway. “Senior Brother Shi,” Zhu Liu whispered. “That's the first inn he hasn't escaped.”

“I know,” Shi Feng replied, pleased that he’d finally reached the counter first.

Sima Lan took her ledger from under her arm and wrote a single line.

“Inn Bill War,” Sima Lan read aloud. “Won.”

“It was a ruling,” Shi Feng said.

From far down the street, over the shouting, came a faint delighted cry.

“LESSON FIFTEEN!” Lin Langtian howled. “WELL DONE, JUNIOR BROTHER! I'LL BE BACK FOR MY SEAL!”