Nightfall

I Can Still Live as Long as Heaven Tolerates Me

Cui Delu looked at the middle-aged man’s back and coldly said, “I know who backs you. Didn’t you just constantly rely on Chang III or Qi IV, Liu V, Fei VI, Chen VII? I know you can fight, and so do your these brothers. But don’t forget that Chang III and Fei VI are captains of Yulin Royal Guards, Liu V is the leader of Valiant Cavalry Battalion, Chen VII retires from the bodyguard office. You can be easily pushed to the deepest place in Underworld and can never get out if bigwigs ask.”

The middle-aged man suddenly turned around, frowning and gazing at him eye to eye.

“Many of your most reliable and best fighting brothers died these years. Apart from useless Qi IV, you can only rely on these guys. However, you don’t understand the power of nobles. They could easily trap these people, on whom you rely, in barracks with several words, orally or literally. In Chang’an, those who have been suppressed by you for ten or more years would gladly come out and ruthlessly take a bite once they get the news. Wouldn’t they?”

The middle-aged man kept silent for a while and then walked out of the room with his facial expression gradually calming down.

Cui DeLu laughed coldly behind him and said, “Old Chao from Spring Breeze Pavilion… Your hands have stretched too far away, already reaching the Imperial Court… Now your enemies are everywhere. I’d like to see who can still tolerate you!”

The middle-aged man kept silent for a while with his right hand on the door and said, “I can still live as long as Heaven tolerates me.”

…

…

In a sense, the conversation happened on the top floor of the House of Red-Sleeves determined the historical and natural evolution of the underworld of Chang’an. When those bigwigs in the Imperial Court suddenly got interested in the weeds from the Jianghu world, it would inevitably become grassland after a wildfire. No matter how vigorous those weeds were, or how strong their desire to live was, only scorched black stems and roots buried in the soil were left behind. They could never again regain the past flourish.

That was the smell of power.

Censor Zhang Yiqi’s wife was used to this smell in her whole life. Therefore, she could not accept the fact that Zhang Yiqi had suddenly passed away. She took Zhang’s body back with a whole gang of women soldiers, who had created a disturbance in the brothel, and cried for two days. Then she began rushing between the Dali Temple and the Chang’an Local Government, which took charge of regulating the capital city. However, the smell this time was awful. What a pity!

“How could my lord be so short-lived? 27 years ago, he told me that he once had Master of Nation to do fortune-telling for him, who told him that he certainly would live beyond 100 years. In my opinion, my lord definitely was schemed to death by fox spirits in the brothel! Mayor of Capital, you must support me. If you dare to cover for them, I’ll go to the Prince’s Mansion to beg His Highness to uphold justice for my lord!

The official sitting at the table appeared to be about 40, with triangular eyes and a red bumpy nose. A sparse and net-like beard hung on his jaw. His appearance was simply inelegant. It was amazing that the man was not dispatched to other counties or prefectures of lower levels, but left in Chang’an Local Government as Tang’s officials needed to pay attention to their appearances.

He looked at the skinny woman standing in the hall below, worrying about how to deal with the case. Luckily, all Tang’s officials knew the legendary life of Master of Nation. He realized that the former Master of Nation was just a firing boy in the South School of Haotian Taoism 27 years ago and hadn’t met His Majesty yet after careful calculation. He told Zhang Yiqi his fortune for money and it might just be a trick. Realizing this, he said seriously after a slight fit of coughing.