Chapter 39: Hasty Penmanship

Inside the main hall of the Demon Suppression Division, the space grew increasingly cramped as the injured members were brought in. Ten chairs were arranged on either side of the hall, acting like two walls and leaving a vacant area in the middle, which was piled with letters, ledgers, and other items awaiting inspection.

Wu Xingyao knelt on the floor; the grid of the Go board drawn on the stone tiles had become so faint that its lines were barely visible. To continue, she had to redraw the board. Pei Hu slowly lifted his head, looking at the little girl as she focused on her drawing, his expression a mixture of shock and a hint of trepidation.

Among those who love Go, there is a popular saying: "A person’s game is a reflection of their character." It means that the way a person plays reveals their inherent nature. Those who seek stability in their play are steady in life; those who court danger are prone to great victories—or crushing defeats.

Pei Hu’s style was neither steady nor risky; it was defined by a single word: "ruthlessness." He would patiently lay out his strategy, and the moment he smelled blood, he would hunt it to the very end. This was exactly how he had climbed from a lowly scribe to a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Personnel within the Great Ning Imperial Court. Cases under his jurisdiction often ended in total ruin, ranging from the confiscation of property and exile to the execution of nine generations of a family. To bolster his political achievements, he would lure suspects into committing unforgivable crimes from the smallest of errors. It was like cooking a large yellow croaker: it required patience, a slow simmer, allowing the richness of the broth to seep into the meat. Only when the fish was fully saturated would the chef turn off the heat and plate the dish.

Yet, a man such as this had played fifteen games against Wu Xingyao and won only two. He had every reason to suspect that even those two victories were mere acts of generosity from the little girl. The small board, from the initial layout to the myriad possibilities of each move, was a battlefield where Pei Hu struggled to overcome Wu Xingyao’s intuitive, mid-game decisions. He would always overthink her next move, trying to anticipate and counter it, only for Wu Xingyao’s subsequent placements to defy his expectations, leaving him in a passive position—much like someone desperately tearing down an east wall to patch a west one. It was less that Wu Xingyao had defeated him, and more that he had been unable to defeat himself.

Just as the new board was finished, Sun Yi, who was in charge of screening incoming mail, walked over to Lord Pei with three letters in hand, bowing with his fists cupped.

"My Lord."

Pei Hu looked up, then spoke in a low voice. "Xiaoyao, let us continue our game later; I have official business to attend to."

"All right."

As soon as Wu Xingyao finished speaking, Xiao Kui, who had been itching to test her mettle against the little girl, couldn't hold back any longer. "I want to try."

Hearing that someone else wanted to play, Wu Xingyao was delighted. Feeling that the stones she had were not hard enough to scratch the floor effectively—causing the lines to fade whenever they were brushed against—she reached into her sleeve and pulled out a purple-skinned egg. Pursing her small lips, she drew the lines on the hall's floor in a pale purple hue. Once done, she tucked the egg back into her sleeve.

Xiao Kui asked, "What is that you’re holding?"

The little girl replied without hesitation, "My master’s lifeblood. If I lose it, he’ll kill me."

Xiao Kui gave a wry smile; Chu Chen really had no shame in threatening a child like that. "Big sister, let’s play."

While the two were setting up the pieces, Sun Yi handed the three letters to Pei Hu. "My Lord, these three letters are suspicious."

"Explain."

Sun Yi’s speed in screening letters was honed by years of practice. Mail coming into the Demon Suppression Division was generally categorized into four types. The first was official correspondence with the Imperial Capital, which Sun Yi only spot-checked. The second was reports of demonic activity from local jurisdictions, which he would scan with lightning speed. The third was family letters; since many members of the Division were stationed far from home, they often wrote to assure their families of their safety, and Sun Yi scrutinized these with particular care.

The fourth category—personal correspondence between friends—was examined with the utmost caution. In Sun Yi’s eyes, this was where issues were most easily uncovered. The first type, official documents, made it easy to identify the sender and receiver if something was amiss, and the route taken by the post riders was clearly documented. The second type, local reports, was difficult to falsify, as demonic incidents were sporadic and unpredictable. Family letters required careful reading, but as long as the content remained consistent over time, they were usually fine. He had once read a three-year string of letters that focused entirely on the mundane life of a child: being hit by a teacher, fighting with classmates, or being scared by a neighbor's dog.

The fourth category, however, was of paramount importance. There was simply too much room for deception in letters between friends. The veracity of the content was nearly impossible to verify. After categorizing the mail, Sun Yi always started with these.

Over the past five years, the Jinan Demon Suppression Division had received 273 letters between friends. Most were exchanged among cultivators in the Refining Spirit Realm, which was understandable, as they were the frontline force against demons and often made many "fox and dog" friends during their travels. Those in the Transformation Spirit Realm, however, spent half their time cultivating, striving to reach the peak of their power.

Sun Yi further narrowed the field, excluding all correspondence involving those in the Transformation Spirit Realm. Among the remainder, he found these three suspicious letters. He handed them to Pei Hu and said, "My Lord, these three are correspondence between Manager Xu and a friend. I have checked Manager Xu’s mail; he usually receives one such letter every month or two. There are three friends he corresponds with: a wandering Taoist calling himself Qingchenzi, a leather merchant named Liu Wen, and one other..." Sun Yi paused, stumbling over his words.

Pei Hu looked up at him, puzzled. "Go on."

"It is... the wife of the Marquis of Pingnan, the Sixth Princess of the current Emperor, Zhao Ya."

Upon hearing this name, Pei Hu’s first thought was that both the Marquis of Pingnan and the Sixth Princess belonged to the lineage of the Grand Ancestor. As beneficiaries of that lineage, they had no reason to participate in a rebellion.

"My Lord, may I continue?"

"Proceed."

"These three letters I have are all from the wandering Taoist, sent consecutively in August two years ago. By comparing them to his previous letters, I noticed that the handwriting in these three is frantic and the brushwork messy, as if written in great haste. Yet, the content claims he was visiting a place of beautiful mountains and clear waters, urging Brother Xu to come and enjoy the scenery when he had the chance."

Pei Hu’s mouth twitched slightly as he spoke slowly. "In other words, the person writing the letter was in a place of beautiful mountains and clear waters, yet wrote in a state of panic?"

"Precisely."

Pei Hu unfolded the three letters and began to study one. He held it up to the air, letting the candlelight from the hall shine through the paper.

"Hmm?"

A fan-shaped indentation appeared on the paper, looking as if a storyteller’s wooden gavel had been pressed down and twisted.

"Go and check the ledgers, local reports, and resource allocations from last August."

"Yes, my Lord."