Chapter 80: The Prefectural Office

As he arrived before the Commandant’s mansion, only to be blocked by the county soldiers, Qi Jun was filled with a profound sense of helplessness. He gritted his teeth, took off the last pouch of silver he carried, and handed it to the soldier.

“I truly have urgent business and must request your help in informing your lord,” Qi Jun bowed his head and offered the silver, feeling an unprecedented humiliation. Though he had always disdained bribery and bowing to power, now he was forced to do so.

It had only been a day since he left Anqiang, but he had no idea what might have transpired there in his absence. He sensed vaguely that a dark current was surging beneath the surface of Anqiang county.

The soldier stared at him in surprise, then took the pouch, weighed it, emptied the silver, and tossed the empty pouch at Qi Jun’s feet.

“Wait here,” the soldier said, pocketing the silver and heading inside.

Qi Jun clenched his fists, staring at the empty pouch on the ground; the humiliation grew ever stronger.

The urge for power, for the claws of ambition to grow within him, gnawed at his soul more fiercely than ever before.

He resolved that upon returning from the county seat, he would use Feng Qinian’s influence to settle matters once and for all, taking this opportunity to accelerate the formation of his own armed force.

He could not tell how much time passed as he plotted his future, when the soldier who had taken his silver returned. This time, his tone and attitude were much softer.

“Young master, the one you seek is indeed inside. The Commandant invites you.” The soldier bowed politely and gestured toward the mansion.

“The Commandant?” Qi Jun looked up, startled.

He knew he was a mere stranger to the Commandant of Ding’an, with no acquaintance or connection, and could not fathom why this eminent official wished to see someone as insignificant as himself.

“Please, young master,” pressed the soldier, his tone more forceful.

“Oh, thank you for your guidance,” Qi Jun quickly bowed, performed a scholar’s salute, and followed the soldier into the mansion.

Qi Jun had thought the county magistrate’s residence was luxurious, but upon entering the Commandant’s mansion, he truly witnessed the grandeur of a noble household. Compared to this place, Feng Qinian’s residence was but a minor affair, at best equal to a single courtyard within the Commandant’s domain.

He followed the soldier through maze-like corridors, passing countless rooms adorned with red doors and jade inlay. At last, they crossed an arched gate into a garden, where, beside a man-made pond and a rockery in the back courtyard, he glimpsed two figures playing chess in a pavilion.

One was a familiar silhouette—Feng Qinian. The other must be the Commandant of Ding’an.

The soldier halted outside the pavilion and saluted respectfully. “My lord, I have brought the guest,” he announced.

Qi Jun looked up and saw, sitting opposite Feng Qinian, an elderly man with silver hair but a spirited bearing.

Whether the old man’s hearing was poor or he was absorbed in the game, he continued playing without acknowledging them.

The soldier dared not interrupt further, and waited patiently. Qi Jun, though anxious, understood the decorum and remained silent.

After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the old man placed a piece on the board and, stroking his long beard, laughed. “Ha ha, it seems I still have the edge!”

Feng Qinian stared at the board, then admitted defeat, bowing repeatedly. “My lord, you are truly a chess master reborn! I am humbled. Your moves are so varied and inscrutable—simply brilliant...”

“Ha ha, you flatter me...” The old man gathered the pieces with satisfaction, and, looking up, finally noticed the soldier and Qi Jun waiting outside.

“Why didn’t you announce the guest’s arrival?” he scolded, waving the soldier off.

The soldier bowed deeply and departed without a word.

“Greetings, Commandant. Greetings, Lord Feng.” Qi Jun hurriedly bowed.

Feng Qinian stepped aside, gesturing to Qi Jun. “My lord, this is the one I mentioned before...”

“Young man, come closer,” the old man beckoned, suddenly interested.

Standing before the highest military authority in the county, Qi Jun dared not be careless. He advanced a few steps and bowed slightly before the two.

“Good, you look the part. But what of your abilities?” The old man narrowed his eyes, nodding, and glanced at Feng Qinian.

“My lord, this is one I confidently recommend. I would not speak without basis. If you doubt me, you may summon a skilled man from the mansion to test him,” Feng Qinian bowed, then shot Qi Jun a meaningful glance.

Qi Jun stared blankly at the old man, unsure what Feng Qinian meant by recommendation. Yet he understood the latter part—he was to prove himself in a bout.

He cursed inwardly; the Commandant’s mansion must be teeming with experts, and any opponent could easily overwhelm him.

He knew he could handle ordinary bandits or soldiers, but that did not make him invincible in this era’s martial arts.

What if, on a whim, Feng Qinian wanted him to fight several at once? That would be tantamount to a death sentence.

Fortunately, what Qi Jun feared did not come to pass. The old man seemed less interested in violence, perhaps due to his age.

He shook his head slightly, regarding Qi Jun thoughtfully.

Qi Jun felt his skin crawl under the gaze of such a powerful official. To be scrutinized like this meant either promotion or death.

“Qinian, don’t always think that fighting makes one great. The court needs such soldiers for the battlefield, but not such generals. The same holds for your little Anqiang county,” the old man said, turning to Feng Qinian and stroking a chess piece.

“You are right, my lord. I was shortsighted. Then, what would you suggest...?” Feng Qinian bowed respectfully, lowering his voice.

Qi Jun listened, bewildered, his heart sinking at the mention of generals and soldiers.

“Is this old man planning to send me to the front lines to die for Great Liang?” he thought, his palms sweating for his own life.

He did not fear death, but dreaded a meaningless demise.

If he died on the battlefield, what difference would there be between this life and the last? His dreams and ambitions would once again perish unfinished, repeating that cycle.

A scholar, sent to war, quietly dying in an anonymous skirmish. The wheels of history roll on—who would remember the life and sacrifice of such a nameless soldier?

The old man continued discussing matters with Feng Qinian, while Qi Jun resolved inwardly: If they sent him to war, he would rather seize the opportunity to return to his village, raise a force, and carve out his own domain at Panlong Ridge.

At last, the old man and Feng Qinian seemed to reach an agreement and turned to Qi Jun.

Qi Jun knew—the moment that would decide his fate had arrived.