Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Employment Examination

Deep within the dungeon, where no sunlight ever reached, the jailer brought meals and then drifted back to sleep.

Squatting in the cold, damp stone cell, gnawing on a frozen, tasteless bun with a few salty radishes on the side, He Chang'an's mood, paradoxically, began to settle. Furious impotence was useless. Ultimately, if fate favored him, he would survive; if not, he could not escape disaster. Even if someone dragged him out now, forced his legs apart, and finished him off on the spot, he was too powerless to resist.

So he might as well eat and sleep, sleep and eat, and enjoy a final period of idle life as a shut-in. It was only a pity, he mused, that there was no computer or phone to pass the time...

Thus the days passed—one month, perhaps two—until, at last, someone came.

Was it the county constable? Was this truly the prison of Weiyang County? But that couldn't be; he'd escorted prisoners into the county jail before, and it was nothing like this...

Yang Zhen, the constable of Weiyang County, entered the stone cell at a measured pace. He glanced at He Chang'an, who was shackled, and sat down on the stone bench without expression, silent for a long time.

He Chang'an's heart was uneasy, yet he put on a face of aggrieved indignation. "Sir Yang, I am innocent!"

"Innocent?" Lord Yang looked him up and down. "And who has wronged you?"

"Well, they’ve put me in irons..." He Chang'an forced a bitter smile, moving his hands and feet, making the chains clink.

"I heard you did a great favor for the academy scholars. Care to explain?" Yang asked offhandedly, neither confirming nor denying the charge.

"Those scholars were too much, their hearts... well, their hearts are hard as stone!" He Chang'an quickly tried to absolve himself. "I only scolded and roughed them up a little, but after that, they all suddenly... broke through. What did that have to do with me?"

He wasn't about to risk his life with careless words.

"Scholars, after all, are often fragile and unsteady in mind—it’s no wonder they couldn't withstand your scolding," Yang replied lightly.

He Chang'an was left speechless; Yang had summarized everything in a single phrase, leaving him with nothing more to say. This was the art of awkward conversation...

"Here’s the matter: I was entrusted with giving you a test. If you pass, there will be great rewards," Yang suddenly smiled, lowering his voice. "If you fail, well... you understand?"

His gaze shifted slowly over He Chang'an, finally settling near his inner thighs for a moment.

He Chang'an instinctively squeezed his legs together and forced a laugh. "Sir Yang, I’m your subordinate. If you want anyone dealt with, just give me a look and I’ll be the first to do it for you..."

"Actually, I do need you to handle two individuals for me," Yang replied, half smiling, clapping his hands.

He Chang'an's heart sank with a sense of foreboding.

From the corridor came the heavy tread of boots.

Two men entered, faces stern, dressed in black and white, powerful in build—they were seventh-rank martial artists...

Damn, two of them? What was this about?

He Chang'an noticed their uniforms—deep red and black, without embroidery or ornament, a style entirely unfamiliar to him. The only notable detail was the bronze belts each man wore.

"These two were once my colleagues; they bullied me in the past," Yang said with a genial smile. "He Chang'an, if you can berate and beat them, helping them break through their bottleneck, you’ll have passed the test."

With that, he saluted the two men and left.

The iron door slammed shut and was locked from the outside, leaving He Chang'an dumbfounded.

This wasn't a test—this was the imperial examination, a one-shot deal...

He weighed his odds: he could handle three or four tenth-rank martial artists without much trouble, and with ninth-rank, he might scrape a win. But seventh-rank? That was two or three levels higher—he doubted he could even wrench their legs apart with his meager strength.

"Gentlemen," He Chang'an licked his lips and forced a grin, "forgive these humble surroundings. I’m sorry you must endure such discomfort."

He shuffled forward in his shackles, wiped the only stone bench clean with his sleeve, and said apologetically, "There’s only one seat, sirs..."

"I heard you helped the scholars break through their bottleneck?" one of the men asked abruptly. He had a scar on his face, and his voice was hoarse, as if his throat had been untroubled by words for days.

"Ah, rumors are a dangerous thing," He Chang'an sighed. "Those scholars are all learned and erudite, already on the verge of a breakthrough. They kept calling us martial artists crude and uncouth—I lost my patience and took action."

‘That’s the truth—the scholars’ breakthrough had nothing to do with me...’

"And then? They all broke through at once?" the other man, equally stern, asked.

"Yes, being bullied by a junior martial artist like me roused their fighting spirit, and they all broke through. Truly, it was my fault for provoking them..." He Chang'an studied their faces anxiously, probing and judging whether his words would get him into trouble, ready to amend himself at any sign of danger.

This wasn't about character.

The Eastern Investigation Bureau was infamous for castrating men...

The scarred man waved his hand indifferently. "There’s no need to discuss the scholars further. Let’s begin. We’re ready."

So direct? They were ready—but he wasn't!

"Gentlemen, this is my first time—I’m not sure how to proceed..." He Chang'an hesitated, truthfully uncertain what they expected of him.

"By mouth or by force, either way," the scarred man replied. "The scholars have made you out to be some miracle worker—turning stone to gold, the mundane into the extraordinary. I don’t buy it. Come on!"

He Chang'an’s heart raced. So that’s what this was—they wanted him to insult and beat them, hoping it would help them break through their bottleneck? The way rumors spread among scholars was outrageous! In this past month or so, those scholars must have concocted countless tales—he was probably being made out to be some kind of legend...

"Gentlemen, their breakthrough was pure coincidence—I played only a minor role," He Chang'an said carefully, forcing a smile, already paving his retreat.

"Jiangtou, I don’t see anything special about this kid," the other, sterner man said, eyeing He Chang'an from head to toe and making a snipping gesture with two fingers.

Damn, a single wrong move and it might be all over?

He Chang'an couldn’t help noticing that the man’s gaze lingered a moment too long below his waist...

"But in truth, I did play a small part," He Chang'an said with a bitter laugh. "Scholars are proud, their eyes set high, brave and unafraid of death, looking down on us martial artists. I merely treated their affliction with the right medicine—I felt they just lacked a bit of martial vigor..."

"I told you, enough about the scholars," the scarred man interrupted with a wave of his large hand. "Let’s get on with our business. If you keep stalling, you’ll be sent to the palace."