Chapter Twenty-Three: Swords Drawn and Crossbows at the Ready

Li Zisheng remained calm and composed, bowing respectfully to the sky.

“General, as the proverb goes, the net of heaven is vast and loose, yet nothing escapes it. The one who pieced together this letter possesses remarkable skill, but even the most meticulous work is vulnerable to a single oversight. The method of assembling the letter is quite simple—akin to making a sheet of paper anew. The process itself is straightforward: fusing together fragments of paper. If you wish, I can demonstrate this method right now.”

“How did you discover the subtlety in this paper?” asked Mr. Zhong, not General Deng.

“Ah, Mr. Zhong might not be aware—though the uneven texture of the paper arises from carelessness in its manufacture, it presents a very obvious trait. The ink distributed atop it varies in its absorption, resulting in differences in the depth and shade of the written characters.” Li Zisheng paused briefly.

“What differences?” Several voices echoed the question in unison.

It was not that those present were ignorant, but the concept of ink dispersion was only summarized in later generations. Few people of the current era understood such matters, so their confusion was quite natural.

Li Zisheng understood what they were thinking, and his heart was resolute.

“General, you must know that ink across the land differs—some is fine and smooth, some thin and elegant, some thick and intense. When applied to paper, it appears differently, especially after long periods; the divergence becomes more pronounced. As for the letter from Fang Zhongzheng, I had you examine it under the light, where it revealed shadows and variations in translucence—these are distinctive features. If you doubt me, observe it further under the light, and you will notice its peculiarities.”

Li Zisheng spoke with conviction.

General Deng stumbled, wanting to inspect the letter himself, but now, wasn’t he supposed to destroy it?

The crowd was somewhat helpless, yet their astonishment at Li Zisheng’s erudition only deepened. At such a young age, he knew so much. Zhou Fulin had already decided in his heart—Li Zisheng could not be allowed to remain. He understood Kong Zhichong’s intentions; no wonder Kong was so wary of this child, not daring to act against him. No wonder such a child could survive amidst the tides of power—he truly had some skill.

Once the matter was settled, Zhou Fulin resolved to advise his father to allocate men to deal with Li Zisheng, ensuring his career would be dimmed, and even assassination might be inevitable.

Mr. Zhong was also shaken; Li Zisheng had given him many surprises. He even began to doubt whether Li Zisheng was truly a disciple of Cheng Zhongliang. How did Cheng Zhongliang deserve such fortune, to receive so outstanding a student? Envy gnawed at him.

If this youth could be taken as his own pupil, it would be a most joyous blessing.

General Deng and Mr. Lin had their own thoughts. Li Zisheng’s actions had disrupted their plans. Deng Qing never expected Li Zisheng would truly possess a method to verify the authenticity of the letter—it was astonishing.

Most crucially, at this moment, Li Zisheng was a pivotal piece in the game of competing factions. Li Zisheng knew this well. Thus, no matter how boldly he acted, no one dared trouble him intentionally. As the factions vied for dominance, whoever struck first would surely lose the contest—this was beyond doubt, without any suspense.

So Mr. Zhong would never stop Li Zisheng’s audacity, and General Deng tolerated it. All was due to Li Zisheng’s special status.

Those who knew the inside story lamented that such talent as Li Zisheng was wasted by Cheng Zhongliang, who inadvertently made Li Zisheng enemies without number.

“How did you discover that this letter was pieced together?” It was not General Deng who asked, but the academy’s supervisor. After much turmoil, the supervisor had become remarkably composed.

“This letter is composed of words cut from all the books that Fang Zhongzheng transcribed. The degree of ink dispersion in each character is different. Though all the characters’ ink has dried, some clearly reveal differences in timing. Some ink remains fragrant and strong, while others have lost all scent. Most importantly, though the script is entirely Fang Zhongzheng’s, the strokes are not uniform, proving these words were not written in the same period. This is precisely the oversight of the forger.”

Upon hearing this, everyone was enlightened—even the Zhou brothers.

Yet, Zhou Fulin thought to himself that such matters could not defeat him.

“Well done, Zisheng. You are truly talented,” said General Deng, knowing there was little point in further argument, so he let events unfold.

“Zhou Fulin, what more do you have to say? Admit your guilt and submit to the law—I will leave you a chance for survival. But if you persist in resistance, not even your father can save you,” General Deng deliberately invoked Zhou Fulin’s father, his intentions clear—to expose those behind Zhou Fulin and thus advance his own plans.

“General Deng, aren’t your words excessive? I may be unworthy, but I possess some integrity. Brother Fang Zhongzheng is honest and sincere; whether he was tricked remains uncertain. When we heard of his injury, we intended to visit him, but received this letter instead. Do you think we forged it? I believe someone is toying with us, seeking our destruction—such measures must be taken by those who wish to eliminate us. Is that not so?”

Here, Zhou Fulin paused, but gave no one else the opportunity to speak, continuing his protest.

“I believe someone deliberately gave us this letter to frame us. Such wickedness deserves condemnation. I ask General Deng to uncover the truth before passing judgment. Otherwise, we are falsely accused. Though we are weak in power, we will unite with scholars across the land and petition the emperor in the Golden Palace. Even if blood stains the floor, I will indict you, Deng Qing.”

As Zhou Fulin spoke, his indignation was evident. The students behind him rose to support his cause, even Zhou Linqing, who had been silent until now.

Deng Qing’s face was livid, glaring at Zhou Fulin. In all his years as general, he had never been so defied by a mere scholar.