The entire street fell into a sudden, dead silence.
The once-shouting Supervisor Zhang went silent instantly, his face turning deathly pale.
The bailiffs holding their staves froze as if turned to stone; one particularly cowardly man even dropped his club with a loud clatter.
“The… the Iron Eagle Guard…”
Someone whispered in a trembling voice. The crowd scattered instantly, retreating ten feet back in the blink of an eye.
Several minor officials who had been watching the show felt their legs give way, sinking to the ground and not even daring to raise their heads.
Black-armored guards lined both sides of the street, the sound of their iron boots hitting the ground with a rhythmic, heart-chilling precision.
Between them, a luxurious official sedan was lowered. As the curtain was lifted, the crowd parted like a tide, revealing the man in the center wearing vermilion official robes.
Supervisor Zhang’s knees buckled, and he flopped into a kowtow. “This humble official greets the Lord Chancellor!”
Jin Hong had never seen Gu Huaiyu, but in the Great Chen Dynasty, there was only one Lord Chancellor who held such absolute power over the court. He was a man loathed by everyone under heaven, yet feared by all.
The Emperor of Great Chen sat high above, but everyone knew the one who held the true reins of the world was not the young Emperor, but the Chancellor.
Jin Hong had served in the Northern Frontier Army for years. The highest official he had ever seen was an Inspector General, and even that high-and-mighty lord wouldn’t even have the right to speak while kneeling before the Chancellor.
Thus, when Gu Huaiyu stepped forward, Jin Hong’s knees hit the ground before he even realized it.
The powerful statesman walked slowly toward the group, the hem of his official robes brushing past the lowered heads of the crowd. “Since when did the Ministry of Revenue start handling criminal sentencing? Are you looking to merge with the Court of Judicial Review?”
Hearing this, Supervisor Zhang broke into a cold sweat. He crawled on his knees to Gu Huaiyu’s feet, pointing at Jin Hong and wailing, “My Lord! This brute trespassed into the Ministry and intended to assault a court official!”
Gu Huaiyu had intended to leave it at that, but then Zhang made the mistake of adding a self-righteous remark: “These captains from the Northern Frontier Army are bullying the Ministry of Revenue now. You must seek justice for me!”
“A captain of the Northern Frontier Army?”
Gu Huaiyu raised an eyebrow slightly, finally ceasing to be a mere observer.
He looked toward the blood-soaked young man, as if looking at a piece of rough, unpolished jade.
Of course he remembered this man—though his role in the original novel wasn’t extensive, this young general was like a nail that ran through the entire plot. He still remembered a specific line from the book:
“If Pei Jingyi is a wolf, then Jin Hong is the hound he tamed—bloodthirsty, loyal, and obedient only to his master.”
Gu Huaiyu stared at the back of the young man’s bowed head. “Jin Hong?”
Jin Hong’s entire body stiffened as he slowly looked up.
Supervisor Zhang was stunned. He stammered, “My… My Lord… you know this…”
Gu Huaiyu rested his chin on his fingers, seemingly deep in thought. “Five years ago, in the report of victory sent by Pei Jingyi during the twelfth lunar month, your name was mentioned.”
“The night raid on the Eastern Liao pass during the snowstorm. You circled around and burned their granaries, didn’t you?”
The blood from Jin Hong’s forehead dripped into his eyes, blurring the silhouette of the Great Chancellor. For a moment, he forgot how to respond.
The wind brushed past his neck, so cold it felt numb. He belatedly realized he was breaking out in a cold sweat.
After that battle, he had carried the frozen corpses of his brothers back to camp. The report had been sent up, but the rewards were meager and all word of it had vanished within half a month.
He thought those events were buried in the snow forever, yet here was a man digging them out of the dust, reciting them word for word.
Gu Huaiyu’s white boots stepped over the wet blood on the bluestone, stopping right in front of him.
Jin Hong’s face suddenly flushed a deep red, the color spreading from his forehead down his thick neck. His Adam’s apple bobbed violently several times before he squeezed out a few broken words: “My… My Lord.”
A snow-white silk handkerchief fluttered down from a vermilion sleeve, landing right in Jin Hong’s rough palm.
“Clean your face,” the Lord Chancellor’s voice was as light as a feather. “I do not like looking at a face covered in blood when I speak.”
Jin Hong held the handkerchief, his thumb instinctively brushing the silk texture. This material was softer than the finest cashmere at the border, carrying a faint scent of agarwood. He hurriedly wiped his face, but his rough skin snagged the delicate silk threads, creating a faint tearing sound.
Gu Huaiyu suddenly leaned down. “Do you expect me to pull you up personally?”
These words startled Jin Hong so much he practically bolted upright, nearly bumping into the Chancellor’s chin. Clutching the blood-stained handkerchief, he stammered, “I… I will buy you a new one…”
“No need.”
Gu Huaiyu turned and began strolling into the Ministry of Revenue, tossing a light command over his shoulder: “Follow me.”
Jin Hong stood frozen as if struck by lightning.
It wasn’t until Gu Huaiyu was three paces away that he snapped out of it and rushed to catch up, his heavy footsteps echoing in the empty courtyard.
Once he was behind Gu Huaiyu, he abruptly checked his momentum, his large frame hunched comically, like a bear trying to walk on its tiptoes.
The officials of the Ministry of Revenue, still kneeling on the ground, wished they could find a crack in the earth to crawl into. They all regretted not speaking up for Jin Hong earlier, missing their chance to curry favor with the Chancellor.
