Chapter 128: Tang Clan's Paper Flower
That excuse about the cat… Honestly, it transcended mere shamelessness, reaching a level of absurdity so profound that even the experienced Imperial Censor found his brain function temporarily suspended, leaving him momentarily stunned and speechless.
Finally recovering, he sputtered, voice cracking with outrage,
“Th-That… Does that explanation even remotely make sense?!”
“We understand it is difficult to believe, Your Excellency,” Tang Touzhong replied with an expression of perfect, earnest sincerity. “But what can we do when it is the simple truth? Should we fabricate a convenient lie simply because you find the truth incredible?”
“Is your face forged from cold iron?!” the Censor shot back, utterly frustrated. “It’s impossible to even hold a conversation with you people! Fine! Whether your words hold truth or not, I shall confirm it myself! Hey, you there!” He pointed sharply at one of the nearby Tang Clan guards. “You! Go inside immediately and personally verify your Clan Lord’s claim!”
The designated Tang guard looked at his own outstretched palms, then back at the Censor, replying with unwavering loyalty,
“Me, Your Excellency? But… I implicitly trust our Clan Lord’s word.”
“I didn’t ask for your trust, I asked for verification!” the Censor insisted furiously.
“If Your Excellency means about the cat,” the guard continued smoothly, “then rest assured, I personally saw the creature with my own two eyes. You need not worry.”
The Censor realized then that pressing further would be utterly futile; these Tang Clan members clearly wouldn't obey his direct command in this matter.
But if he ordered his own soldiers to forcibly enter the Tang Center compound now? That would be playing right into their hands, giving them the perfect pretext to unleash whatever poison traps they had undoubtedly prepared.
Gritting his teeth in frustration, the Imperial Censor glowered silently.
Qing, observing this stalemate with keen interest, felt her eyes light up.
She subtly sidled a couple of steps closer to the elderly gentleman she’d been introduced to earlier—the Grand Clan Lord, Tang Jae-un—and whispered conspiratorially,
“Hey, Elder? Was it actually okay for your Clan Lord to provoke him like that? I thought our side said you needed to endure humiliation without giving any pretext?”
“Calling me ‘our side’ now, are we?” The Grand Clan Lord chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling. “Ah-ah has truly made a good friend indeed! How clever!” He reached into his sleeve with surprising naturalness. “For such quick wit, I shall give you this.”
He pressed a small vial into Qing’s hand.
It was a tiny medicine bottle, only about two finger-joints long.
“This is Soul Shaking Water, something I personally fiddled with,” the old man explained with a mischievous glint in his eye. “If you encounter someone particularly annoying, just mix it into a sweet drink and feed it to them. About fifteen minutes later, their muscles will completely relax… causing them to uncontrollably shit and piss themselves.”
Holy shit! Qing thought, impressed. Isn’t this basically a poison designed for instant social assassination?!
“Wow! Thank you so much!” she beamed, carefully pocketing the vial of special Soul Shaking Water. “This is such a precious gift!”
Because Qing’s expression was always devastatingly honest, the old Grand Clan Lord saw her genuine, slightly wicked delight and couldn’t help but smile broadly in return.
Seriously, who is this old guy? Qing wondered again. Some kind of walking poison vending machine?
Is this like those village NPCs in games who give you useful items just for talking to them?
(The correct answer: He was the Grand Clan Lord of the Tang Clan, Tang Jae-un, who adored his granddaughter Nanah and was now thoroughly charmed by her intriguing new friend.
He was also, incidentally, largely responsible for Nanah’s unhealthy obsession with poisons in the first place, having indulged her curiosity by gifting her various ‘interesting’ concoctions since she was a child.)
Only then did the Grand Clan Lord offer a proper explanation for the current strategy.
“The Tang Clan never forgets a grudge, child. Daring to barge through the main gate of the Tang Clan estate with such arrogance is a grave offense, normally punishable by death. Simply enduring their presence here without retaliating is humiliation enough for us. Since we must suffer that indignity, shouldn’t we at least try to provoke them a little, scrape at their nerves while we wait?”
“Ah,” Qing nodded, understanding.
“However,” the elder added with a cunning smile, “if they happen to make a significant verbal misstep in their anger? Even better! Catching them in a slip of the tongue provides justification, creates a pretext… and once justification is established, using swords becomes permissible, does it not? Is that not the fundamental way of the Central Plains?”
(Strictly speaking, no such law existed anywhere, now or ever.
But the worldly wisdom derived from the old man’s long, experienced life wasn’t entirely wrong about how things often worked in practice.)
“However,” Tang Jae-un cautioned, his expression turning serious again, “you must understand the stakes. If we make even one mistake, it could mean annihilation for the entire clan. If he [the Censor] makes a mistake? He dies alone, and the Emperor simply sends another official to replace him. In this confrontation, the Tang Clan is at a profound disadvantage. Do you understand?”
So… it is okay for our side to provoke them, then? Qing thought, processing the implications.
Well now… isn’t provoking people practically my number one specialty?
Qing’s eyes began to sparkle with mischievous excitement.
“Then,” she asked eagerly, “is it okay if I join in the taunting too?”
The Grand Clan Lord beamed again. “Such eagerness to help defend the clan’s honor! Truly admirable! How clever!” He reached into his sleeve once more. “For such spirit, I shall give you this as well. It is Soul Stealing Bewitching Powder, another little something I personally fiddled with.”
He handed her another small vial.
This one appeared empty but was tightly sealed. Inside, three tiny pills resembling goat droppings rattled faintly.
“First,” the elder instructed conspiratorially, “you must ensure the target ingests it—just shove it into their mouth and make them swallow. Once the medicinal effect takes hold, it simultaneously arouses intense lust while inducing powerful hallucinations. You will almost certainly be able to witness the amusing spectacle of them attempting to vigorously hump the empty air… Ahem! Oops.” He coughed, looking slightly embarrassed. “Perhaps such descriptions are unsuitable for a young lady’s ears. My apologies, getting senile in my old age.”
“Wow! Thank you so much! Seriously!” Qing exclaimed, accepting the second vial with even greater enthusiasm. “This one sounds really, really fun! I will definitely make sure to use it well!”
Another horrifying concoction designed for utter social destruction.
Seriously, what does he mean by ‘personally fiddled with’? Whatever. It was clearly another precious item, so Qing accepted it gladly.
“However,” the Grand Clan Lord added, gesturing towards Tang Touzhong who was still engaged with the Censor, “that fellow Touzhong originally secured his position as Clan Lord precisely because he possesses a truly remarkable tongue, an amazing talent for talking his way through anything. Honestly, there is no one else in the entire clan who can manipulate words as skillfully as he can. Just leave the verbal sparring to him for now; he will handle it well enough on his own.”
And indeed, watching the exchange, it seemed the Grand Lord was right. After a few more minutes of fruitless back-and-forth, the Imperial Censor, clearly realizing he could make no headway against Tang Touzhong’s polite stonewalling and absurd excuses, finally gave up and withdrew.
“Khm,” the Censor cleared his throat loudly, trying to regain some semblance of authority. “It seems a proper search is… impractical… at this moment. Therefore, we shall return for today. Ensure you rectify this poison situation with utmost haste and comply fully with His Imperial Majesty’s most strict and solemn order!”
Round one of the standoff: Tang Clan wins by decision.
The Imperial Censor, however, had certainly not come all this way intending to simply be thwarted by a story about a cat. His next immediate action was to implement a full blockade of the Tang Center.
Imperial soldiers completely surrounded the entire district, tightly sealing off every entrance and exit. Not only were people prevented from entering or leaving, but all logistical movements—including crucial food supplies—were completely cut off.
The message was clear: Starve to death quietly, or die screaming as traitors. Make your choice.
However… Qing continued to eat very well.
And all the Tang Clan members also continued to eat very well.
Why? Because the Tang compound possessed numerous well-hidden secret passages. Bringing in essential food supplies merely became slightly more inconvenient than usual, not impossible.
Since what the Tang Clan needed most right now was time—time to locate the hidden artillery positions—they decided to play along for the moment, pretending the blockade was causing them genuine hardship.
“Aigo! Honored Masters!” Tang Clan members would occasionally call out pitifully to the guards stationed outside the gates. “If you block even our food supplies, how are we possibly supposed to survive?”
“Hmm. Hmph. We are merely following orders,” the guards would reply stoically.
And so it went.
By the fourth day of the blockade, however, even the Imperial Censor began to feel suspicious.
Something is strange, he likely thought. Did the Tang Clan truly possess such enormous stockpiles of food reserves?
Meanwhile, within the Tang compound, two small dots were marked on a detailed map of the surrounding area. They had already successfully pinpointed the locations of two enemy artillery batteries.
Finally, on the seventh night of the blockade, the Imperial Censor, belatedly realizing something was definitely amiss, arrived again at the Tang Center gates, this time leading a much larger contingent of soldiers.
And this time, he wasn't alone. Accompanying him was a new group of imposing figures—a troop of martial artists clad in dazzling, golden brocade uniforms.
“I clearly warned you,” the Censor boomed, stepping forward again, “and yet you still fail to display the proper appearance of criminals!”
“Criminals?” Tang Touzhong countered smoothly. “Where exactly are these criminals you speak of?”
“Hmph! Commander Wei, do you see?!” the Censor exclaimed, turning to the Embroidered Uniform leader. “Witness the shameless lies of these brazen traitors! We should charge in immediately and slaughter them all!”
Qing, observing their arrival, asked the Grand Clan Lord,
“Who are the shiny new guys?”
“Those,” the elder replied, his expression turning grim, “are the Embroidered Uniform Guards"[^- Lit. "Gold Clothed Guard," referring to the Embroidered Uniform Guard, the Ming Dynasty's infamous imperial secret police and bodyguard unit)].
As the name implied, they were guards (wi) dressed in gold (geum) clothing.
However, this distinctive golden uniform was exclusively reserved for the Emperor’s direct, personal military force. Each member, therefore, held a relatively high official rank and wielded significant imperial authority.
Basically, Qing thought, recalling history from her homeland, they’re kinda like the SS from back when Germany had its empire.
They functioned simultaneously as an army, a secret police force, and the Emperor’s personal blades, carrying out his direct will.
The old Poison Grandpa—Grand Clan Lord Tang Jae-un—frowned slightly.
“It seems the Emperor is truly determined this time. That man leading them, Wei Zhihui Qianshi [^(A specific title, likely Commandant or Commander within the Embroidered Uniform Guards)], is the third highest-ranking leader in the entire Embroidered Uniform guard. He very rarely condescends to travel down to the provinces himself.”
In any case, it seemed round two of the battle of wits—and potentially, swords—was about to begin.
“Seven days have passed!” the Censor boomed once more. “You have surely managed to neutralize the poison by now! This time, you will accept the search and—”
“Oh dear,” Tang Touzhong interrupted again, sighing dramatically. “In truth, late last night, a truly mischievous wild cat once again caused considerable havoc within our main storage warehouse! Unfortunately, it seems to have developed a fondness for running around carrying a deadly poison pouch in its mouth! Consequently, the entire Tang Center compound remains, regrettably, a lethal death trap, utterly unsafe for entry!”
It was the exact same excuse as before, delivered almost word-for-word, like a copy-paste macro.
“Didn’t you use that exact same excuse last time?!” the Censor shrieked, his face purpling.
“Does not history often repeat itself, Your Excellency?” Tang Touzhong replied serenely.
“Wh-What?! How— Shameless! Such utter shamelessness!”
The Imperial Censor trembled with impotent rage, utterly flabbergasted.
Qing could only admire the sheer audacity.
Wow! What a brilliant stall tactic! Truly masterful!
The implication was clear: the Tang Clan intended to use this ridiculous cat excuse infinitely.
Third visit? Fourth? They would just repeat it, invoking the specter of the invincible, poison-immune cat with its apparently infinite supply of deadly poison pouches, endlessly re-contaminating the compound every night before an inspection.
The Imperial Censor, though perhaps not the brightest bulb, was no fool either. He quickly realized that continuing this verbal standoff was pointless; he had no way to refute the absurd claim without risking his troops by forcing entry. Gritting his teeth, he finally turned to leave once more.
It was then that Qing suddenly raised her voice, calling out sweetly.
“Wait! Your Excellency Censor! Just a moment! There is something urgent I simply must discuss with you!”
The Censor, already starting to walk away, paused and turned back, looking at the veiled Qing with a mixture of deep suspicion and perhaps a tiny flicker of hope.
“…What is it now? If you perhaps wish to denounce these vile, traitorous rebels,” he offered magnanimously, “I shall swear upon my name to guarantee the safety of you, and you alone, girl.”
Instead of replying directly, Qing turned pointedly towards Tang Touzhong.
“Uh, Clan Lord? You know how our food waste has really been piling up lately? It’s starting to smell quite awful, isn’t it? Since those gentlemen outside are blocking all the roads anyway, maybe we could trouble His Excellency the Censor to have his men clean up our garbage on their way out? Seems only fair; the ones doing the blocking should handle the cleanup, right?”
“Oh!” Tang Touzhong instantly caught on, his eyes twinkling. “What an excellent idea! Your Excellency Censor, might I impose upon you for a small favor? Our head chef is notoriously generous with his portions, you see, so the Tang household typically produces far more leftovers than our members can possibly consume…”
The unspoken taunt was crystal clear: Your blockade is utterly useless; we have plenty of ways to get supplies in and out.
Several Tang Clan members nearby deliberately began chuckling loudly in response, amplifying the insult.
“SILENCE!” the Imperial Censor finally roared, losing all composure. “You insubordinate, doomed traitor scum! You all deserve to be torn limb from limb and fed to wild dogs! Skewered on pikes, roasted over flames, and fed to your own miserable offspring!”
“Ah,” Tang Touzhong replied calmly, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Are we discussing the appropriate fate for traitors now? In that case, how about sticking a wick into their belly fat and using them as human candles? Your Excellency Censor,” he added, eyeing the man’s considerable girth, “seems to possess enough fuel to burn brightly for at least seven full days, perhaps longer.”
It was a devastatingly high-class insult, subtly referencing the Censor’s Dong Zhuo-like [^(Infamous, tyrannical, and portly warlord from the late Han Dynasty)] physique.
“Y-You…! YOU…!” The Censor’s face turned a shade of crimson bordering on purple. “LET’S GO! You dog-like motherfucking bastards…!”
Utterly defeated in the verbal exchange, spewing impotent curses, the Imperial Censor finally stormed away, his contingent trailing miserably behind him.
Sichuan Tang Clan: Round two victory.
Later that evening, the old Poison Grandpa (Grand Clan Lord Tang Jae-un) approached Qing again, another small vial appearing almost magically in his hand.
“The child’s quick wit today was truly excellent! How clever! For such admirable contribution, I shall give you this.” He pressed the vial into her hand. “It is Immortal Lung, another little something I personally fiddled with.”
This time, the vial appeared completely empty, though tightly sealed.
“Have the target inhale the contents through their nose or mouth,” the elder instructed with a conspiratorial wink. “For the next fifteen days, their breathing will produce the sound of an ugly, squawking flute—a rough, grating ppyak-ppyak noise. Furthermore, their speaking voice will transform into something utterly ridiculous. They will likely find themselves unable to stop laughing hysterically at the sound of their own voice. And,” he added with another chuckle, “if the target happens to be someone prone to excessive laughter already, they might very well continue laughing uncontrollably until they actually pass out from lack of breath.”
Seriously, every single poison this old man ‘personally fiddled with’ seemed designed specifically and obsessively to target the victim’s dignity and social standing, aiming for utter humiliation rather than death.
“Wow! Thank you so much! Seriously!” Qing beamed, accepting the vial eagerly. “Although, this wasn't quite what I was hoping for... hehe. I'll be sure to use it well.”
Qing once again happily accepted the vial.
