Chapter 21: Life Is But a Play, All Depends on One’s Performance

Chapter 021: Life Is But a Play, All Depends on One's Acting

In the solemn hall of judgment, as Sanfengzi and Little Ten had just rounded the crowd of commoners gathered to hear the case at the entrance, they immediately spotted Fang Rulai on the dais, wailing and weeping.

Little Ten wore a look as though he'd seen a ghost. "How are you here?" He had made sure all three—the master and servants—were inside before setting the fire, and had waited at the gate until the flames died before leaving. How, then, had this person before him survived both the inferno and his watchful eyes?

At the sound of his voice, Fang Rulai turned, first shrinking back in fright, then, with a furious roar, lunged forward. "Villainous priest, give me back my young master and my brother!"

With her hair wild and loose like a madwoman, her face almost entirely hidden save for those bloodshot eyes visible through the strands, she appeared to all present as the very image of a woman driven hysterical after surviving calamity.

Little Ten instinctively raised his foot to kick her away, unwilling to let her get close. Yet, as his foot touched her garment, before he could exert any force, Fang Rulai had already thrown herself to the ground, letting out cries that could shake the heavens.

"Heavens above, good people, open your eyes and witness! This is the true face of those so-called cultivators—murder for greed, and even here in the court, they dare to silence a witness!"

With her cries, all eyes turned toward Little Ten, now filled with suspicion and reproach.

Enraged, Little Ten raised his hand with murderous intent. "Madwoman, how dare you slander me in court!"

Fang Rulai shrieked, scrambling away to hide beneath the magistrate’s desk. "Your Excellency, save me! Save me!"

At that moment, Sanfengzi stepped forward and blocked Little Ten, signaling with his eyes: If you strike her, you fall right into her trap. Stand down!

He pulled Little Ten behind him and gave his horsetail whisk a flourish, addressing the magistrate. "Boundless Heavenly Venerable, I am Sanfengzi, abbot of the Qitian Daoist Temple, paying respects to Magistrate Yin."

He flicked his whisk again, sending the magistrate a subtle look: The rest is up to you.

Magistrate Yin nodded slightly, signaling reassurance.

"Master Sanfengzi, this lady, Miss Hong, accuses you of murder for profit. Do you confess?"

"Boundless Heavenly Venerable! Your Excellency, I have always devoted myself to cultivation, unwilling to harm so much as an ant. How could I murder for profit? Surely, there must be some misunderstanding..."

"You're lying!" Fang Rulai leapt out from under the desk, cutting him off. "I saw you with my own eyes—setting the fire that killed my young master and my brother!"

Sanfengzi turned to her with a half-bow. "Boundless Heavenly Venerable, Miss Hong, is it? In broad daylight, under heaven’s gaze, one should not speak baseless accusations."

"I'm not making things up..."

But Sanfengzi interrupted her calmly. "Boundless Heavenly Venerable. Your Excellency, I suddenly recall that Miss Hong’s brother once told me she was kicked in the head by a donkey at age three, and has been prone to occasional fits of madness ever since. Perhaps..."

He left the sentence hanging, but his look of sympathy toward a madwoman was enough to sway the common folk: As expected, a venerable master like Sanfengzi would never commit such a crime.

Little Ten now understood how to play along. He stepped forward. "Boundless Heavenly Venerable, everyone, the Qitian Daoist Temple has stood for twenty years, always dedicated to spreading the Dao and cultivating virtue. Even the late emperor was a devout follower, and our previous abbot, Kong Kongzi, now lectures regularly before the Crown Prince himself. With such standing, why would our temple risk its reputation for murder?"

His logical, well-reasoned words won many nods.

"That's right! It's the imperial temple—why would they need to kill for profit?"

"Indeed. If that woman were telling the truth, wouldn’t it mean the late emperor and crown prince were poor judges of character?"

"Look at her, hair wild, raving mad—maybe her mind really isn’t right, just as Master Sanfengzi says."

...

With his back to the crowd, Sanfengzi shot Fang Rulai a cold glare: See? Cross me, will you? If you’re lucky enough to survive, you should have hidden away quietly. Why jump out to accuse us? You may not live to finish your accusation.

Fang Rulai glanced at the crowd, now looking at her askance, and then at the smug Sanfengzi. Suddenly, she turned and knelt before the dais. "Your Excellency, I have evidence."

The hall fell silent.

The commoners stopped muttering. Evidence?

Magistrate Yin shot Sanfengzi a glance—had he left something behind?

Sanfengzi looked sidelong at Little Ten, who shook his head confidently—no.

"Very well, present it," the magistrate ordered.

Fang Rulai produced a piece of rope from her bundle. "This is a length of oil-soaked rope my brother pressed into my hand as he rescued me last night. He said, if he couldn’t save the young master as well, I was to take this to the authorities."

She held the rope out, turning to Sanfengzi. "Villainous priest, oil-soaked rope is only used to ignite great fires, yet it was found near the guest quarters—which didn’t even have a kitchen. How do you explain this?"

Sanfengzi frowned, cursing Little Ten and the others inwardly for their ineptitude, but outwardly remained poised. "Boundless Heavenly Venerable. Our temple receives many visitors. Such a rope could easily have been carelessly dropped by one of our guests."

Magistrate Yin dismissed the rope with a wave. "Indeed, an unmarked object cannot serve as evidence."

Fang Rulai sneered, raising her bundle. "And what of these marked items?"

She withdrew a Daoist robe. "Take a good look—this is embroidered with your temple’s name! I found it myself near the exit from the guest quarters. Not only that, but here are your temple’s special firelighters and more oil-soaked rope. How do you explain these?"

Sanfengzi shot Little Ten a glare, about to reply, but Fang Rulai pressed on. "What now? Will you claim these were also left by outside guests?"

She shook out the robe, displaying it for all to see. "Everyone, observe! This is a special robe for Qitian Temple Daoists, not the kind given to visiting practitioners. See? There’s no ‘gift’ character embroidered on the inside of the belt!"

"Ah, that’s right!" someone in the crowd exclaimed. "My father received a robe for his merit last year, and there was indeed a ‘gift’ character on the belt."

"So, Miss Hong speaks the truth? Then Master Sanfengzi..."

All eyes once again burned with suspicion, now trained on Sanfengzi and Little Ten.

"You—you people!" Little Ten was driven nearly to curses by the fickleness of the crowd.

Sanfengzi grabbed him. He understood now—this Miss Hong was thoroughly prepared. No matter how he argued, she would have a counter ready.

Magistrate Yin’s glance urged: Argue, or I’ll be forced to follow the law.

Sanfengzi closed his eyes. Let the law proceed, then.

The magistrate looked uncertain. Prison?

Sanfengzi gave a sharp nod—yes, prison. It’s easier to do dark deeds in the dark.

"Guards! Take Sanfengzi and the others accused of murder for profit to the dungeon. The verdict will be given another day!"

Fang Rulai breathed a long sigh of relief—at last, she could return safely to the temple.

But just as she stepped away, the magistrate called her back. "Miss Hong, wait."

Something more? Fang Rulai looked puzzled.

With fatherly kindness, Magistrate Yin smiled. "Miss Hong, you’ve traveled far and are now all alone. As your official, how could I ignore the plight of a citizen so afflicted?"

He waved, and two bailiffs blocked her path. "Escort Miss Hong to the lady of the house for a hearty meal and some rest, and only then send her home!"

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Thank you to 2568751845, Ke lk, Zhao Jinlu Kui, Stinky Egg Haha, and Qingye for your generous support.

And one more thing: Compared to my relaxed approach to writing, it seems you all care about the story’s progress even more than I do! Some of you help with recommendations, others share tips on how to promote. The contrast makes me feel a bit unmotivated... waterfall sweat!

So, let’s not rush with the recommendations. Though I’ve never had any issues before, who knows what the future holds? If I ask for promotion and then drop the ball myself, wouldn’t that be embarrassing? It’s better to wait until there’s more content, so I can have confidence when inviting readers. I’m always working hard!

Thank you all for your concern—I remember every bit of it. Much appreciated.

This book is first published here.