A Pawn's Passage

Early the next morning, Qi Xuansu arrived at the Nether Prison.

To prevent collusion, interrogations were always conducted separately. The first to be brought in was Gao Mingyin.

The layout of interrogation halls was nearly identical across the Daoist mansions. There were two doors—a small one for the interrogators and a large one for bringing in prisoners. The chamber itself was divided into two sections. The outer chamber, entered through the large door, contained torture instruments and a desk for recordkeeping. The inner chamber, accessed through the small door, was sealed off, allowing those inside to observe the outer chamber without being seen themselves.

Qi Xuansu entered the inner chamber through the small door. It was equipped with a table and chairs. The wall facing the outer chamber was made of a type of brown crystal that made it dim yet clear, offering an unobstructed view. This crystal wall could also be raised or lowered at will.

At the center of the outer chamber was a stone chair built into the ground. Two Spirit Guards placed Gao Mingyin into it and secured him with the chair’s built-in cuffs.

When Qi Xuansu pulled a lever, the crystal wall slowly sank into the floor, removing the barrier between the two chambers. Gao Mingyin, who was fixed in place on the stone chair, faced Qi Xuansu directly.

Before the wall was lowered, Qi Xuansu had already put on a pair of sunglasses to conceal his eyes. This was standard practice during interrogations to prevent prisoners from reading the interrogator’s intent.

Gao Mingyin remained composed and fearless. Once seated, he simply closed his eyes.

“Gao Mingyin.” Qi Xuansu spoke.

“Yes?” Gao Mingyin replied, eyes still shut.

Qi Xuansu said, “Hiring The Inn’s assassin to kill, trafficking and forcing women into prostitution at the Green Den, and the fraudulent transactions of your businesses—all these crimes are better confessed by you. It’ll make it easier to report this to the Daoist Mansion. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Gao Mingyin kept his eyes shut. “Mage Qi, you might as well go investigate it all with your divine means.”

Qi Xuansu replied, “Of course, we’ll investigate. But this is your opportunity to confess to your crimes. Under both the Daoist law and the Great Xuan Penal Code, a confession weighs very differently from evidence uncovered by authorities.”

Gao Mingyin opened his eyes. “What if I say none of this has anything to do with me?”

“We won’t let any evidence slip through our grasp. If denial works, there will be no criminals in this world.”

Gao Mingyin said, “Now that I’ve fallen into your hands, I have nothing more to say.”

Qi Xuansu remained calm and continued, “Old Master Gao, you should know that the Daoist Order discourages torture during interrogation, so you may think that you’re safe. But we must thank the Beichen Hall for finding a loophole in this by inventing the Soul-Hooking Whip. This whip doesn’t leave a single mark on the body nor any fatal harm, so technically, it’s not corporal punishment. Beichen Hall classifies it as a non-invasive method, used merely to simulate the threat of torture. I saw it firsthand back in Jinling Prefecture, during the second major Jiangnan case.

“A Beggar King, who was a Xiantian Being, was brought to tears and nearly soiled himself. It’s not exactly a pleasant sight. I’m just a wild Daoist without much understanding of worldly niceties, but even I can guess that someone accustomed to wealth and comfort like you wouldn’t wish to experience that. The least you can do is preserve what little dignity you have left.”

Gao Mingyin’s expression finally changed. After a moment of silence, he asked, “What do you want to ask, Mage Qi?”

“Anything you’d like to say. Let’s start with the businesses under your name.”

Gao Mingyin retorted, “Mage Qi, you said I was arrested because I hired an assassin to murder a Daoist Kindred. But my businesses have nothing to do with that, do they?”

“Hiring assassins takes Taiping coins, so does bribing me at the Taiping Inn branch that day. Let’s not forget requesting the Tianchen Division to get rid of me. How can you say your businesses are unrelated to these events? I want to know where all that money came from.”

Gao Mingyin maintained his composure. “I know nothing of what you just accused me of.”

Qi Xuansu scoffed. “I told you that day at the Taiping Inn that your confession isn’t the most important part. The Inn’s assassin and the Innkeeper have confessed. Your butler has also confessed. If I’m not mistaken, even the Tianchen Division will come apologizing soon. So, you’re just being willful by holding out. It’s utterly useless.”

Unable to read the emotions in Qi Xuansu’s eyes behind those sunglasses, Gao Mingyin could not tell whether the Mage was bluffing or being truthful. All he could say was, “These businesses are legitimate. Go ahead and investigate them.”

Qi Xuansu pulled out a few account books. “I did, but it didn’t take much effort on my part. A helpful soul delivered these to me. If what’s recorded here is true, you weren’t running legitimate businesses, Old Master Gao. You were smuggling.”

“Whether it’s legitimate trade or smuggling, the Imperial Court will have the final word.” Gao Mingyin stated confidently.

“Speaking of the Imperial Court—because I lacked a formal search warrant, I couldn’t enter your estate. I merely had people watch from a distance. This morning, I received word that your wife killed herself by hanging. When my people entered with the Shuntian Prefecture officials and the Green Phoenix Guard, your study was already cleaned out, with no letters or correspondence. I did, however, manage to save your son. Gao Shide was badly shaken, but lucky for him, he hid himself inside a dry well. Otherwise, he would’ve followed his mother in death. I’ve arranged for him to be in a safe place before coming here to speak with you.”

In the Imperial Capital, one must always respect the rules. At the very least, one should not break them openly.

Even the Green Phoenix Guard must get judicial approval to arrest someone, specifically through the Ministry of Justice. They must obtain this warrant in order to arrest someone. As such, any arrest by the Green Phoenix Guard must first pass the censor’s scrutiny.

This stemmed from the Six Ministries and Six Censorates system. Each of the Six Censorates oversaw a corresponding Ministry. Each had a Chief Censor and four to ten subordinate censors. Their role was to monitor the ministries. When imperial decrees were issued, the censorates transcribed and distributed them to the relevant ministries. They were also tasked with reporting back to the emperor on policy enforcement.

Moreover, the censors held additional power to suspend the execution of an imperial edict they deemed inappropriate or impractical, hence returning it to the emperor. They also had the right to refute by correcting erroneous proposals from the cabinet, ministries, or local government offices.

Regardless of how things were handled in practice or behind the scenes, Qi Xuansu would never allow himself to be caught breaking the rules in the open. Thus, without the proper documentation, he would not recklessly storm into Gao Mingyin’s residence.

His arrest of Gao Mingyin was backed by official documentation from the Imperial Capital Daoist Mansion. Cases involving Daoist priests fell under the purview of the Nine Halls and local Daoist mansions, which were authorized to bypass the Six Ministries and Six Censorates. Still, each warrant could only be issued per individual, never to seize multiple people at once.

This was precisely why the Tianchen Division loathed Qi Xuansu, yet they could not do anything against him since he held the moral and legal high ground. Everything he did was legitimate and out in the open.

In that instant, Gao Mingyin’s face turned pale. He was drenched in cold sweat, unable to speak.

Qi Xuansu goaded him. “They’ve already cut you off. Do you still wish to conceal things? You might still get to live if you speak up now. But if you stay silent, that will surely be your end.”

Gao Mingyin’s face was completely drained of blood.

For a man who had weathered many storms, the death of his wife was not enough to shake him like this. What truly unsettled him was the message behind it—no one was coming to save him. His backers had abandoned him.

Had Gao Mingyin not been held in the Daoist Mansion’s prison but in the Ministry of Justice’s or the Green Phoenix Guard’s prison, he would likely already be dead. His backers had a hundred ways to kill him quietly.

Qi Xuansu continued, “As long as you speak the truth, I can guarantee your son’s safety. No matter how cold-hearted you are, it’s better to leave someone behind to light your grave than to depart this world utterly alone.”

Then, Qi Xuansu made a gesture. A Daoist disciple promptly delivered two documents that had magically captured a live scene and printed it onto paper through a formation. It was a picture of his wife’s corpse.

Qi Xuansu added, “I can also let you see your son.”

Gao Mingyin struggled for a long while before shaking his head. “No need. I’ll confess.”

Qi Xuansu signaled Ke Qingqing to begin recording.

Gao Mingyin admitted, “Those businesses weren’t legitimate. Just as you said, they were all smuggling operations—animal furs and ginseng from Liaodong, Western goods through the major customs gates, horses from the Golden Horde, and export tea, iron, and salt. All of it was pure profit, with no tariffs. But do you really think that I have the power to grease so many wheels? I’m just a bookkeeper for someone else.”

Qi Xuansu stared at him intently. “Who’s the mastermind then? Who are you working for?”

Gao Mingyin bowed his head. “I work for Wen Weng.”

Qi Xuansu pressed on, “Who is Wen Weng?”

Gao replied, “Wen Weng is the aide of Prince Liao.”

In the previous dynasty, princes were allowed to employ eunuchs, but in the current dynasty, the use of eunuchs by princely households was abolished. The old system of appointing aides was reinstated.

Qi Xuansu closed his eyes briefly, recalling what he knew about Prince Liao.

The princes of the Great Xuan royal family were granted fiefs in name only. They did not actually govern them, nor were their titles hereditary. Titles were passed down by descending rank. A grandfather might be an Imperial Prince, the father a Commandery Prince, and the grandson a Marquis. Eventually, the lineage would revert to commoners. It was a harsh system by any standard.

Since the Great Xuan Dynasty had risen from Liaodong, the title of Prince Liao held exceptional prestige, being granted special privileges as the foremost among the princes. The current Prince Liao was the Emperor’s biological brother. Though they did not govern the empire side by side, Prince Liao held great sway both at court and among the people. He also served as the Director of the Imperial Clan Court, commanding significant influence.

It finally made sense why Gao Mingyin had been able to mobilize the Tianchen Division. It turned out his backer was none other than this mighty Imperial Prince.