Chapter 83: Beheading Mountains Before the Prime Minister's Residence—Is Haoran Playing Such Games?

With the mind stepping into the transcendent realm, everything was already vastly different from before. Perception of the surroundings was greatly enhanced.

The captain of the Black Bureau, Huang Xian, had not been seen for days, but now he hurried in, visibly anxious and worried, which caused An Le to feel a slight chill in his heart.

As the person who had introduced him to the Lin residence as a painter, Huang Xian was considered a benefactor to An Le; if anything happened, An Le would naturally offer his help.

Ceasing his cultivation, An Le rose to his feet. The ink pool that had rested across his knees slipped to his waist, and Green Mountain Sword also flashed to his side, fastened at his belt.

Huang Xian stepped into the courtyard and immediately spotted An Le.

The warm spring sun hung high overhead, casting pale golden rays that bathed the youth in white, as if enveloped in a shimmering mist of gold. His loose hair draped effortlessly over his shoulders, and his wide sleeves billowed in the spring breeze, making him seem like an immortal descended from the gates of heaven.

His spine was straight, like sturdy bamboo weathering a fierce storm, and an aura of uprightness shone around him like the blazing sun.

Such a person—how could he possibly have cheated?

Though Huang Xian was clearly unconvinced, the imprisoned Xu Shun stubbornly insisted that he had once befriended An Le through Liu Yue. Xu Shun neither accused nor defended An Le, offering only ambiguous answers.

Clearly, Xu Shun intended to drag An Le into the matter, to use An Le’s reputation, or perhaps the forces behind him, to mitigate his own punishment.

Huang Xian’s anxious mood calmed upon seeing An Le.

With a sword at his waist and dressed in official garb, he clasped his hands in salute. “Young Master An, something has happened.”

An Le was not surprised and smiled lightly. “No need to panic, Captain Huang. Take your time—what has occurred?”

“This morning, there was cheating in the spring examination. The matter has erupted throughout the city. The accused in prison claims an acquaintance with you. Prime Minister Qin believes you cannot escape suspicion and has ordered your arrest for questioning. Officials from the Supreme Court and Black Bureau are already on their way.”

Huang Xian’s worry was plain. Cheating in the imperial exam was a grave offense, and though he did not believe An Le capable of such a thing, the implications were vast. Even if An Le was not convicted, being taken to the Black Bureau’s prison would inevitably provoke rumors—especially from scholars, whose words could fabricate countless tales.

Though An Le was surprised by the news, his expression remained calm and serene. “The innocent remain so. Do not worry, Captain Huang. Tell me in detail—the specific course of events and any nuances.”

An Le’s smile was warm as spring breeze, and Huang Xian felt reassured.

Huang Xian began recounting the entire story.

Heavy footsteps were already echoing down Temple Alley, powerful blood energy radiating as they drew nearer to the courtyard.

Having listened, An Le nodded slightly, gaining clarity about the case. Xu Shun had cheated, implicating Liu Yue, and since Liu Yue was friendly with An Le, this dragged An Le into the matter. In truth, the scholars of the Literary Rankings had reported the case, mainly targeting him.

This was not a personal attack by Prime Minister Qin. An Le did not believe Qin, as overseer of the spring examination, would deliberately target him, but after the incident, the Qin residence certainly stirred the waters.

Soon, the courtyard was bustling. Several figures in Supreme Court uniforms appeared, swords and shackles at their waists, their presence formidable. The leader’s aura surpassed the fifth realm.

An Le’s fame in Lin’an had risen sharply, and before the examination, he had famously defeated Wang Qinhe of the Duke’s residence on a rainy night at West Lake.

Now, caught in a cheating scandal and entangled in the disputes between the Lin and Qin residences, all sides paid close attention.

The Supreme Court, Justice Office, and Black Bureau each sent representatives.

“Young Master An, I am Cao Fu, Deputy Secretary of the Supreme Court,” the leader said, bowing to An Le and announcing his identity.

An Le returned the bow.

Officials from the Black Bureau and Justice Office also saluted.

For someone of An Le’s standing, proper courtesy was observed, unlike the harsh treatment reserved for Xu Shun and Liu Yue.

Of course, this was also because An Le himself was powerful, deeply connected to the Lin residence, and held the Little Saint’s Token—his status was different.

“Prime Minister Qin is thoroughly investigating the cheating case. In recent days, he has reviewed the exam papers and found that three candidates answered an extremely obscure question. He suspects these three of cheating. One of them is you, Young Master An. Therefore, we respectfully ask you to come to the Black Bureau’s office. Once the investigation is complete, if you are innocent, your name will be cleared.”

Cao Fu spoke solemnly.

Beside him, Huang Xian was tense. The inevitable had arrived. Once inside the Black Bureau, he knew well how much suffering awaited.

Especially given An Le’s ties to the Lin residence, the Qin residence would surely exploit the opportunity.

Even if proven innocent, An Le would emerge battered and scarred.

An Le pondered Cao Fu’s words, then shook his head. “I am innocent; I will not go to the Black Bureau.”

These words instantly turned the previously gentle atmosphere taut, as if swords were drawn. Cao Fu’s brow furrowed, and blood energy beyond the fifth realm erupted, pressing down like a mountain.

Faced with a suspect refusing arrest and cooperation, he could freely use his power.

Yet An Le, possessing the fearless Heart Dao Fruit, remained calm as water before such pressure. His white sleeves floated, unmoved.

“Young Master An, I am investigating a case. Do not obstruct official duties,” Cao Fu said coldly.

The sword at his waist rang sharply, its authoritative pressure blending with Cao Fu’s blood energy, making the mountain-like aura even more imposing.

This sword, called Capturer, was a third-grade Supreme Court treasure. It embodied the power to subdue criminals—under its aura, offenders would feel suffocated, their resolve diminished, their spirits shaken.

Yet An Le faced the sword’s aura with unwavering serenity.

A surge of sword energy rose from him, radiant as the midday sun, illuminating the world and dispelling all filth and evil. The white sleeves swayed, and as the sword energy hummed, Cao Fu’s blood energy combined with the Capturer’s force was shattered, unable to exert any pressure on An Le.

Cao Fu’s eyes narrowed with astonishment.

What kind of power was this? Righteous Literary Force?

It did not quite resemble it, yet seemed like an upright sword energy, cutting through darkness and corruption.

The tense atmosphere made Huang Xian’s heart leap into his throat. If An Le resisted arrest, matters would only spiral out of control.

Facing Cao Fu’s rising aura, fused with the Capturer’s oppressive force, An Le rested his hand on Green Mountain Sword at his waist. Majestic sword energy surged, slicing away injustice and oppression.

He looked at Cao Fu. “Lord Cao, there is no need to go to the Black Bureau. I believe there is somewhere more fitting to go.”

He spoke, straight-backed, striding past Cao Fu, passing the Black Bureau and Supreme Court officials, leaving the courtyard and heading toward Qingbo Street.

Cao Fu, gripping Capturer, turned to watch the proud white-clad youth’s back, his expression much softened.

In truth, when he sensed that righteous force rising from the youth—unafraid of the Capturer’s power—he believed An Le could not have cheated.

If he had cheated, his heart would be dimmed; how could he possess such pure power?

Cao Fu no longer insisted, nor forced shackles upon the youth. He simply followed behind, leaving the courtyard and Temple Alley.

On Quiet Street, at the Lin residence.

The waterside pavilion was tranquil, the large pond shimmering with ripples and reflecting the scattered sunlight.

In the main hall, the spring breeze flowed gently. Lady Hua, draped in black gauze, reclined on a couch reading, with Xi Xiang quietly standing by her side.

Suddenly, two figures hurried toward the pavilion.

Lin Qingyin lifted her skirt and ran quickly, while Lin Zhuifeng, dressed in a fitted outfit with a fire rod at her waist, dashed in a whirlwind.

Both women’s faces showed worry.

Entering the pavilion, they spotted Lady Hua. From afar, Lin Zhuifeng called out, “Madam, something terrible has happened! Please help save Master An!”

Lin Qingyin’s eyes were filled with concern as she gazed at Lady Hua, who had already closed her book and risen with dignified grace. “The cheating scandal implicates teacher. Prime Minister Qin has contacted the Supreme Court and Black Bureau—they intend to arrest him.”

Lady Hua’s willow brows arched slightly.

In an instant, she understood the situation.

However, her expression showed neither tension nor worry, for she knew An Le could never have cheated in the spring examination.

With Righteous Literary Force and Green Mountain Sword energy, who could accuse him of cheating?

But that day, when An Le merged his upright force with sword energy, Zhao Huangting concealed his aura with powerful sword energy, so few cultivators in Lin’an knew he had acquired the righteous force.

Lady Hua, however, knew.

Those who possess such force are naturally upright—how could they stoop to cheating?

Moreover, Lady Hua guessed that Qin Lishi likely did not truly believe An Le cheated, but still ordered an investigation—perhaps to send An Le to the notorious Black Bureau prison, where even seventh-realm cultivators suffer, to wear down An Le’s extraordinary spirit.

Such a youth, close to the Lin residence, was not favored by Qin Lishi.

Lady Hua sighed softly. In the end, it was the Lin residence that had drawn him into this storm, even at the fringes—it was still a calamity.

“Xi Xiang, prepare the carriage.”

Xi Xiang responded with a bow.

“Yes.”

This day, all the powers in Lin’an were stirred.

A luxurious carriage departed from the Lin residence, heading toward Qingbo Street.

Somehow, news of the cheating scandal spread like wildfire.

The court had not announced anything, yet rumors ran rampant.

In teahouses, brothels, wine shops, flower boats on West Lake, and private rooms in Linhua Pavilion, the talk was all about the cheating scandal—most of all, the matter of An Da-jia, the renowned painter of ink bamboo, being accused of cheating.

Initially, it was said that An Da-jia was suspected of involvement. After repeated gossip, it became ‘An Da-jia cheated.’

An Da-jia’s fame in Lin’an soared with his ink bamboo painting, and with his galloping horse, he firmly established his reputation. Countless scholars admired him; myriad beauties adored him.

Yet now, he was accused of cheating.

Rumor had it An Da-jia was connected to the Lin residence, and in this palace examination, the Lin family sought the second-grade treasure ‘Settling the Waves’—An Da-jia bore their hopes.

Under such pressure, it was said, he resorted to cheating to secure his place.

Allegedly, the news originated from scholars favored by the Literary Rankings and the Star of the Literary Court, making it highly credible.

Of course, some supporters of An Da-jia, like Han Shi from Cangzhou, angrily protested: with An Da-jia’s talent, he needn’t cheat to reach the palace examination. He had dominated the Literary Court’s Heart Forest, outshining many scholars.

This only agitated the Literary Rankings scholars, who retorted: if An Le had not cheated, why did he draw out the righteous force before the Literary Monument, yet fail to gain its blessing?

Both sides argued fiercely, and the rumors about An Da-jia’s cheating spread throughout every street in Lin’an.

At the Qin residence, in the Idle Pavilion, Qin Qianqiu listened to his subordinate report the rampant rumors, a faint smile on his lips.

Just as he had said, there were many ways to bring down a scholar who valued reputation.

For many, the truth was irrelevant—they only believed what they heard.

Rumors were ferocious; with this move, even if An Le had not cheated, his reputation would be destroyed.

On Qingbo Street, at Temple Alley.

An Le, in white, sleeves fluttering with the spring breeze, strode along the main road, flanked by Supreme Court and Black Bureau officials. The crowd had retreated to the roadside, watching from afar, afraid to approach.

Inside the temple, Zhao Huangting, dressed in plain clothes, stood before a vermilion carved window, observing the street. Seeing An Le emerge with Cao Fu and the officials in tow, his gaze deepened, a hint of fierceness in his eyes.

An Le, with two swords at his waist and a strikingly handsome face, scanned the street. Many spectators, mostly scholars and busybodies, whispered endlessly.

With his elevated senses, An Le easily heard their words.

Among them were scholars from the Rankings.

Their faces were cold, eyes filled with the thrill of watching a spectacle, clearly eager to see An Le taken away and mocked.

An Le’s spine remained upright, his aura undisturbed. He glanced at these scholars, eyebrows raised in cold contempt, shaking his head—how dull.

No wonder the Martial Temple’s champion, Di Zang, looked down on the Literary Court. With such petty minds, what was there to respect?

“Petty minds, trivial souls—preoccupied with schemes and disputes. How can such people ever advance in cultivation or scholarship?”

“Watch carefully.”

An Le spoke quietly, unsure to whom, but the Literary Rankings scholars flushed, recognizing the words were directed at them.

Petty souls and trivial men.

The scholars were affronted, instinctively identifying themselves, for they had indeed reported An Le.

Cao Fu, sword at his waist, walked beside An Le, bowing respectfully. “Young Master An, where are you headed?”

He had originally intended to arrest An Le, but now wished to see what An Le would do.

The youth was spirited, not one to bow easily.

Perhaps he would try to prove his innocence.

Yet Cao Fu wondered how one could prove such a thing. Scandals like this were like filthy water—hard to clarify, and a thorough investigation could take months.

An Le smiled, spring breeze ruffling his hair.

“To the Qin residence.”

Cao Fu was stunned, his expression changing.

As Deputy Secretary of the Supreme Court, he knew well the enmity between the Lin and Qin families. An Le’s accusation, besides his friendship with Liu Yue, was largely due to the Lin residence connection.

So what was An Le hoping to achieve at the Qin residence?

Then An Le said, “Would Lord Cao kindly prepare some items?”

Cao Fu frowned—going to the Qin residence, preparing things—was An Le going to beg forgiveness?

If so, it would be a waste of his upright sword energy.

“What does Young Master require?” asked Cao Fu.

“Brush, ink, paper, inkstone, plus a long table and chairs.”

An Le smiled.

Cao Fu was puzzled—was An Le planning to paint for Qin?

“Painting?” Cao Fu wondered.

“Not painting. I only paint for those worthy,” An Le replied, shaking his head.

Cao Fu regarded the youth deeply. Only for the worthy—the implication was clear: Qin was not worthy.

Though the youth seemed gentle as jade, his pride was fierce and upright.

“Very well. I will have them prepared.”

Cao Fu suddenly grew interested, eager to see what An Le intended.

The two walked side by side down the main street. Cao Fu, dressed in official robes with Capturer at his waist, exuded authority; beside him, the youth wore white with two swords, lacking official air but radiating uprightness that surpassed all, drawing many eyes.

Supreme Court and Black Bureau officers followed behind, Huang Xian anxiously trailing them.

On either side, spectators kept pace; Literary Rankings scholars watched coldly, believing they had evidence of An Le’s cheating, as he had drawn out righteous force yet failed to gain its blessing before the Literary Monument.

Han Shi, the border soldier from Cangzhou, was also in the crowd, passionately defending An Le in heated debate with the scholars.

However, An Le first stopped at Yan Spring Lane, buying a jug of old yellow wine before moving on.

Before they reached Quiet Street, a luxurious carriage approached, its curtain lifted.

Lin Qingyin and Lin Zhuifeng descended, eyes full of worry as they saw An Le carrying the wine.

“Teacher.”

Lin Qingyin, who had apprenticed under An Le, was sincerely concerned.

Beside her, Cao Fu tensed, gripping Capturer tightly as he watched the carriage.

Inside was an aura that made him uneasy.

Lady Hua of the Lin residence.

“Do you need my help?” came Lady Hua’s gentle voice from the carriage.

Cao Fu swallowed, gripping his sword tighter. If Lady Hua forced An Le’s departure, he might not be able to stop her.

Yet An Le shook his head. “I can prove my innocence myself, Lady Hua. Please observe.”

Inside the carriage, Lady Hua’s curiosity was piqued. Scandals like this were most vexing, and An Le was simply caught by circumstance—his ties to Liu Yue and Xu Shun had brought this trouble, otherwise such filth would never have touched him.

The group continued, entered Quiet Street, and the common folk hesitated to follow.

But Literary Rankings scholars, Han Shi, and other scholars and literati followed closely.

Before the gates of the Qin residence.

An Le, white-clad, sword at his waist, arrived as if carried by the spring breeze.

Nearby, Cao Fu’s attendants carried tables and chairs, along with the four scholar’s treasures.

An Le directed them to set the table before the gates of the Qin residence, laying out brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

Seated facing the gates, An Le summoned his spirit, his voice ringing out:

“To live in this world, all I seek is innocence and a breath of pride in my heart. Hearing Prime Minister Qin accuse me of cheating in the spring examination, I feel indignation. Qin sits as prime minister, his words carry the weight of mountains; I, a mere youth, can only wield poetry and prose as my sword—to cut down that mountain, to silence the countless malicious voices, and reclaim clarity and honor.”

As An Le finished speaking, waves of powerful energy surged from within the Qin residence, vast spirit sweeping outward.

At the same time, Lady Hua in the carriage stirred, and among the crowd, the elderly watcher from Temple Alley laughed coldly, flicking his fingers to send sword energy soaring skyward.

All these energies were instantly suppressed.

An Le smiled and beckoned to the Literary Rankings scholars.

Three scholars hesitated, but his call stirred their hearts, and they reluctantly approached.

Seated leisurely, An Le regarded them coolly. “I will recite, you will write.”

“These poems are all copied; I will recite them once—do not write slowly, do not let your hands tremble.”

The three scholars, seeing An Le so arrogant, sneered, feeling competitive.

They stood at the table, sleeves rolled, brushes in hand.

An Le raised the wine jug, drank deeply, and began to recite:

“From the depths of mountains, hammered and forged,
Through blazing fire, unflinching,
Bones ground to dust, yet no fear,
All to leave innocence in the world.”

The opening lines of Ode to Lime.

He paused, then recited another:

“Have you not seen the waters of the Yellow River rise from heaven,
Rushing to the sea, never returning?
Born with talent, it must find use,
Spend a thousand gold, it will return.”

And another:

“The great river flows east,
Sweeping away a thousand years of heroes.”

One poem, two, three; ten, twenty, thirty—

He cared not for allusions or imagery, reciting at will. The clear memories of ancient genius poured forth endlessly.

An Le drank and laughed, releasing his pent-up frustration. As he recited, a radiant sword energy rose from him, shining like the sun, illuminating the world and dispelling all evil.

This time, without the old man’s concealment, it soared like a white serpent, breaking through the clouds.

The righteous sword energy resonated, and the Literary Monument in the academy trembled in response.

With each poem, a strand of upright energy emerged from the monument, spreading outward.

Within the academy, the three grand masters—Zhu Huoxi, Pang Ji, and Wang Banshan—opened their eyes in unison.

In a flash, they vanished, crossing the Heart Forest to appear at the pavilion deep in the academy.

They saw the Literary Monument ablaze with starlight in broad daylight, upright force surging forth.

Finally, all the righteous energy gathered like a river, sweeping across Lin’an, flowing toward the Qin residence, entwining with the sword energy rising skyward, and descending upon An Le.

Wang Banshan tugged at his beard.

“Righteous force—played like this?”

Zhu Huoxi and Pang Ji were silent.

Such literary talent, stirring so much upright energy—

Who could accuse An Le of cheating?

The three grand masters of the academy would never allow it.

Otherwise, the academy would lose face.

Before the Qin residence.

Behind An Le, the righteous sword energy coiled like a white serpent, radiating like the sun, filling all hearts with clarity and banishing all deceit.

The three scholars copying his poems were drenched in sweat, their hands trembling, many characters blurred.

Copied poems—copied by him?

Who would believe that?

Such talent—such brilliance—one scholar’s brush slipped, staining the paper with ink.

Yet An Le continued to drink and laugh, his foot propped on the chair, wine jug in hand, swords at his waist, gazing contemptuously at the Qin residence.

“Again—next poem!”

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“Brother Shen.”

“Mm.”

Shen Changqing walked down the road, greeting acquaintances with a nod or a word.

But regardless of who it was, no one showed extra expression, all seeming indifferent.

He was used to it.

This was the Demon Suppression Office, a bureau maintaining the stability of Great Qin, tasked mainly with slaying demons and monsters, though it had other duties as well.

Everyone here had blood on their hands.

When one grows accustomed to life and death, indifference follows.

When Shen Changqing first arrived in this world, he was uncomfortable, but gradually grew used to it.

The Demon Suppression Office was vast.

Those who remained were either formidable experts or had the potential to become one.

Shen Changqing belonged to the latter.

The office had two professions: Guardian and Demon Slayer.

Everyone started as the lowest level Demon Slayer, ascending step by step, with hopes of becoming a Guardian.

Shen Changqing’s predecessor was a trainee Demon Slayer—the lowest rank.

He inherited his predecessor’s memories, and was thus familiar with the office’s environment.

It did not take long for Shen Changqing to stop before a certain building.

Unlike the grim atmosphere of most of the office, this building stood out, a crane among chickens, offering a rare serenity amidst the bloodshed.

The doors were open, and people came and went.

Shen Changqing hesitated only briefly before stepping inside.

Upon entering, the environment changed.

A scent of ink mixed faintly with blood greeted him, causing his brows to instinctively furrow, though he soon relaxed.

The smell of blood on everyone in the Demon Suppression Office could never be entirely washed away.