Chapter 125: The Stern Official's Bell (Part Two)

By July 31st, the officials of the Great Tang court were relieved to have survived this grim month. Yet, on this very night, the Eastern Capital of Luoyang knew no peace.

Internal strife broke out among three families of the Li clan. After several unidentified servants and concubines were killed, the conflict turned inward, with family members and nephews turning on one another. They colluded with agents from the Lijing Gate, surrendering evidence and witnesses of their own kin’s conspiratorial activities. Hou Sizi, the commander of the Lijing Gate, was a step too slow; by the time his officers arrived, the Plum Blossom Inner Guard had already wiped out all three Li households.

Beyond these three in the Eastern Capital, similar bizarre events occurred involving two families in Ruzhou and one in Daozhou. Families turned against each other, exposing their own scandals and providing the Plum Blossom Inner Guard with the perfect pretext to strike. In total, six families—dozens of masters and nearly a hundred servants—were eradicated, leaving not a single soul alive.

On the first day of the eighth lunar month, the scent of blood still hung in the air as officials walked the streets. The high-ranking ministers and nobles, traveling to the Taichu Palace for the morning assembly, felt as though the journey were a thousand miles long. Those who were unaware of the true situation feared that the sudden violence at the end of July signaled a month of bloodshed ahead. Those in the know, however, understood that the Plum Blossom Inner Guard’s ruthless purge had nothing to do with Empress Wu or the state of the court; it was merely the result of a few rash tongues having offended Quan Ce.

The ministers gathered at the Zetian Gate, awaiting the imperial summons. Whispers circulated: "These cruel officials are bullies beyond measure," and "They have forgotten their ancestors; they are unworthy of being called men." Yet, when it came to taking action, they fell into a heavy silence. They knew they needed to deliberate at length and slowly sway the Empress's heart rather than offer themselves as pointless sacrifices. Having reached this consensus, they looked at one another, feeling the ugliness of their own reflection—the mask of the "loyal and filial subjects of the Li clan" had been utterly stripped away.

During the morning assembly, after the political discussions, the ritual of sycophancy began. Officials took turns singing the Empress’s praises, racking their brains to test the boundaries—desperate to claim credit for supporting her rise, yet terrified of overstepping the line.

Once this subsided, the Palace Censor and Lijing Gate official, Hou Sizi, stepped forward. The court held its breath, praying silently not to be bitten by this mad dog. "Your subject, Hou Sizi, reports: I was pulled from obscurity by the Empress and blessed with a marriage by her hand. Her grace is so deep that I could not repay it even by shattering my own body," Hou said. His words shocked the court; the notorious "White Impermanence" god of death actually sounded dejected. "However, my repeated failures in duty have made it impossible to serve the state or alleviate the Empress's burdens. I hereby impeach myself for incompetence and pray for your punishment."

The Empress, seated on her throne, glanced at him coldly. "I am aware of your loyalty, Minister Hou. Do you have plans for where to go?" Her words effectively granted his request to resign. The courtiers were stunned, their nerves tightening again. This coordinated performance between sovereign and subject surely masked some unknown peril.

Hou Sizi showed no joy, his face remaining somber. "I possess no great talent, but I have long aspired to military life. I wish to lead an army to the frontiers, pursuing the enemy and guarding our borders." The words were heroic, ringing with a resolve to sacrifice his life.

The Empress laughed. "You are not yet thirty, Minister Hou. Why demean yourself so? I am in need of men; I would not waste a talent so easily. If you wish to serve in the military, the position of General of the Thousand Ox Guard in the Eastern Capital is vacant. You shall act in that capacity. However, this guard is unique; you must act with caution. If you encounter difficulties, you may seek guidance from Quan Ce or Yao Huan."

"I am useless, yet you concern yourself with me," Hou stammered, his emotions overwhelming him. He prostrated himself on the blue carpet, weeping bitterly. The Empress waved a hand, ordering the attendants to help him up and escort him out to rest.

With this precedent set, the officials—especially the Li clan faction—traded meaningful glances. Hou Sizi was as cunning as a ghost; this display of resignation was clearly a retreat to safety, as if he sensed the political tide shifting. The Empress’s kind words and new appointment looked exactly like a reward for service.

If Hou Sizi could land on his feet, would the pack of "hungry wolves"—the deputies of the Six Circuits—also escape unscathed, holding onto critical positions while evading justice? This was unacceptable. Letting one go was already too much; they couldn't let the whole nest escape. *We must ensure these "loyal and filial" Li clansmen don't die in vain.*

"I, Palace Censor Huang Chang, impeach General Shi Wanjun of the Left Leopard-Tao Guard," one official finally shouted. "He has abused his imperial mandate, engaging in wanton slaughter and insatiable greed while patrolling the Shannan circuit." It was the censors who tested the winds first; they were immune to the usual repercussions of speech. Huang Chang was clever, targeting the newly promoted, less-established Shi Wanjun, who, despite his military rank, was essentially a henchman of the cruel official Lai Junchen.

The Empress frowned. "The Six Circuits commissioners were meant to serve the people, yet the number of treacherous and corrupt officials is shocking, especially in the Shannan circuit. Let the Ministry of Justice review the files of Shi Wanjun’s administration. Report the truth—neither exaggerating nor concealing."

The Minister of Justice stepped forward to receive the decree. With this response, the Empress’s attitude remained strictly focused on the case at hand, revealing nothing of her true stance on the cruel officials. The Li clan’s "loyal and filial" subjects, refusing to stand under a crumbling wall, immediately retracted their claws and fell silent, waiting to see what would happen next.

After the assembly, perhaps ashamed of their own behavior, the Li faction did not gather; they dispersed in awkward silence. Meanwhile, Dali Temple Chief Di Renjie emerged from the Ministry of Justice’s prison, his belly protruding, and immediately drafted a memorial upon returning home. He impeached several cruel officials at once—Zhou Xing, Qiu Shenji, and Suo Yuanli—cursing them roundly. The Empress read them, but kept them in the palace without reply.

Di Renjie grew depressed. He discovered that the Jiannan Shaochun wine he usually bought was now being sent as imperial tribute; it was no longer sold in the markets. Only high-end shops carried it at exorbitant prices, far beyond his salary. In a fit of rage, he submitted daily impeachments. The Empress still did not grant his wishes, but neither did she remove him. Hearing of his love for the wine, she even gifted him two jars. Unexpectedly, with the wine in hand, Di Renjie’s literary inspiration surged, and he impeached them with even greater fervor.

Within days, the memorials piled up like a mountain. At first, a small attendant could carry them; later, it took two men; finally, they had to be moved in large chests by four men.

On the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival, at Suo Yuanli’s residence in Nongchun Square, Quan Ce stood silently at the back gate with his Plum Blossom Inner Guard subordinates. The autumn rain fell, drumming against their bamboo hats.

Aohan, stubborn as ever, insisted on being the thorn in his side. "Commander, you say that to kill without limit is to cease being human. Six Li families, over a hundred lives lost because of your rage—are you still a man?"

"I am a man," Quan Ce replied coolly, glancing at him. "A man with a temper."

Aohan’s breath hitched. Beside them, the Green Snake Lady and the Black Widow stifled their laughter.

"What was Ni Shan’s crime? Why use his life as a catalyst?" Aohan finally managed to ask.

"He knew it himself," Quan Ce smiled. Ni Shan had dared to play both sides, leaking information to the Censorate; he had to die. "I do not hate my enemies; I only hate traitors."

The back gate creaked open. Two shadowy figures carrying a corpse stepped out, only to freeze at the sight of the men waiting there.

On that Mid-Autumn night, because Suo Yuanli had secretly assassinated members of the Plum Blossom Inner Guard, slandered the government, and plotted rebellion, he was caught red-handed. His entire household was arrested, and the evidence was turned over to the Ministry of Justice. Suo Yuanli resisted violently and was killed by the Black Widow.

From then on, every five days, the cruel officials—first Qiu Shenji, then Shi Wanjun, and finally Zhou Xing—were cornered by the Plum Blossom Inner Guard. They suddenly turned over a new leaf, shifting to a vegetarian diet, and were all handed over to the Ministry of Justice for trial. Not one was dealt with extrajudicially; instead, the Guard creatively invented a new punishment: framing them with their own methods.

By the end of August, Zhou Xing, the luckiest of them all, was sentenced to exile three thousand miles away. However, thirty miles outside the capital, his carriage spontaneously combusted, and no body was ever found.

In the late autumn, Luoyang was filled with news of deaths, yet the city felt an unprecedented, warm glow.