036 Whose Gold Is It?

Chapter 036: Whose Gold Is It?

At the entrance of the main hall, the tip of a golden boot appeared first.

San Fengzi’s eyes, which had been lazily rolling upward, instantly snapped back, his panic vanishing.

Jie Tang rushed over to Fang Rulai’s side in a few quick steps, his gaze signaling, What now? The crown prince’s sudden, well-prepared arrival clearly spelled trouble—could they still proceed?

When the crown prince was not present, taking down Qitian Daoist Temple would have been a preemptive strike, perhaps even a warning to the prince within the palace. Yet now, with the prince so close, if they stripped his people bare before his very eyes, it would be no less than slapping the prince in the face before the entire court. The chain of consequences that might follow, in confronting the true mastermind so directly, was something they hadn’t even had time to rehearse, much less devise countermeasures for.

Fang Rulai looked at the tightly clenched corner of the official robe in her palm. She had calculated her every move, yet she had underestimated the crown prince’s acuity—was all about to be lost at the final step?

She could not bear it!

Fang Rulai abruptly turned to Guan Shiyin. She refused to accept defeat! Even if things had exceeded her plans, she would not allow the outcome she had worked for to be altered.

Beneath the bridal veil, Guan Shiyin laughed with abandon—since he had agreed to let her act as she wished, whatever she did, he would cooperate without hesitation.

From beneath the veil, Guan Shiyin’s index finger slipped out, pointing through the air at the half-visible crown prince at the hall’s entrance—go ahead!

For reasons unknown, this small gesture suddenly filled Fang Rulai with confidence.

“Jie Tang, throw this fake secretary out to the main hall entrance!” Fang Rulai’s voice was not loud, but to those trained in martial arts, every word was clear as day.

San Fengzi’s eyes darted in alarm—you dare!

The crown prince, with one foot just over the threshold, paused minutely. Was this a direct challenge to his imperial authority?

“Alright.” Jie Tang, indifferent to the consequences, responded readily, bent his knees, and hoisted the secretary onto his shoulder.

Fang Rulai released the sleeve and gripped the hem, “Throw him!”

At her command, San Fengzi—already immobilized by Guan Shiyin—was hurled like an oversized radish by Jie Tang.

Nor was Fang Rulai idle; as Jie Tang exerted his strength, she crouched and yanked hard downward with both arms.

Whoosh—San Fengzi was sent flying toward the main hall entrance.

Rip—the official robe was torn off San Fengzi in one swift, upward motion by Fang Rulai, and the dark blue Daoist robe sailed conspicuously over the heads of the gathered commoners.

Hearing the commotion, some, driven by curiosity, turned their heads to look.

Just then, the shrill voice rang out again, “The dragon steps over the threshold—kowtow!”

At once, everyone bowed low, foreheads to the ground, “Long life and everlasting health to the Crown Prince!”

In that instant, a black shadow darted in from outside, heading straight for the airborne San Fengzi.

Were they trying to snatch him away and erase the evidence? Fang Rulai’s eyes flashed coldly as she was about to call out to Guan Shiyin, but before she could speak, his figure had already appeared in midair at a preternatural speed.

Red and black shadows collided, each move quick as lightning. Fang Rulai could only see flickers and afterimages, unable to make out the details of the exchange.

At the entrance, the crown prince stood frozen, one foot on the threshold. If he remained still, the bowing crowd dared not so much as lift their heads.

Fang Rulai seethed: Damn this rotten imperial system—if you have the guts, stop oppressing people with your status!

The crown prince cast a disdainful glance her way, curled his finger, and instantly, dozens of black shadows surged into the hall, launching themselves at Guan Shiyin in midair without breaking stride.

Guan Yue intervened in time, but two fists are no match for four; the red shadow was soon beset by black, the balance tipping dangerously.

“Ah, whose gold is that?” Fang Rulai suddenly cried out. Instinctively, those kneeling twisted and turned—where, where?

Guan Shiyin swiftly reached into his robe and scattered something. “Up there!” he called.

Not stopping to question the absurdity, the crowd instinctively looked up—smack!—a golden bean struck one squarely on the forehead.

Ah, it really was gold!

The minds of the common people cleared in an instant, and they raised their heads again, eager for more. But as they looked up, they froze—what’s with that flying Daoist robe? And those black-clad men trying to escape with the robe—what was happening?

Meanwhile, Guan Shiyin and Guan Yue, having scattered the gold, deftly withdrew from the fray. When the crowd looked up, they did so as well, feigning shock with a gasp.

The black-clad men, caught in the act of spiriting San Fengzi away, were also stunned. Never in their training had it occurred to them that someone would dare pull tricks before the crown prince himself. Getting caught red-handed was, in their doctrine, an outright failure—and failure meant only one thing: death.

Suddenly, the hall fell deathly silent.

In that hush, Jie Rou’s childish voice rang out again, “Abbot, look! I told you the secretary was wearing a Daoist robe!”

The crowd jerked their heads down in terror—they should never have looked up for a mere gold bean. See what trouble it had brought! The magistrate had tried to force a confession, but the secretary really was connected to the Daoists. Even the crown prince seemed to have come to stop something… They dared not think further. Ignorance, after all, preserved life.

At last, the crown prince crossed the threshold. This time, without prompting, no one dared raise their heads; they all wished they had never set foot in this court this morning.

Fang Rulai extended her hand, tossing the official robe to the ground. “This humble monk begs the crown prince to uphold justice for the people!”

“Amitabha.” Jie Tang and the young monks pressed their palms together, none bowing.

The crown prince’s gaze was venomous, his murderous intent toward Fang Rulai barely concealed—how dare you!

Fang Rulai remained unruffled—it was you who started this!

The crown prince curled his lips—do you think you’ve won? With but a word, I could have everyone in this hall silenced forever! Secrets? You’ll only speak them before the King of Hell.

Fang Rulai raised an eyebrow coolly—in front of everyone, before you’ve ascended the throne? Would you really dare order a massacre? Crown prince, did you get your head caught in the door on your way out?

You! The prince’s eyes nearly shot fire. Why had nobody warned him that this little monk from Fahua Temple was so cunning? He had issued a secret order for the temple’s seizure at the start of the month, yet half a month had passed with no progress—worse, his own men were falling ever faster.

His face darkening to the extreme, the prince’s fingers clenched audibly—he had been forced to make a public stand in less than three exchanges! This monk must not be allowed to live.

Thank you, dear readers, for your support! Qing Ye bows three times in gratitude.

Truly, is this the rhythm of bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new? A new year, a new image—the old phone may be lost to the washwater, but it’s time for an upgrade! Don’t hesitate, let’s stride boldly toward the newer version!

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