The exile convoy was larger than expected—four or five hundred people in all.
Crying, cursing, the officers’ harsh shouts, and the grinding of wheels over dirt merged into a song of despair.
At the very front, a heavily draped black prison carriage stood out starkly.
Shen Qingzhu’s gaze lingered on it for a moment.
Compared to that specially treated carriage, everyone else’s plight was a hundred times worse.
The heavy shackles rubbed raw their necks and wrists, bleeding in thin streaks.
Even worse was the road beneath their feet.
These formerly pampered officials and gentry had never trodden such rough, uneven dirt paths.
Their soft-soled cloth shoes, finely made but not durable, wore through within half an hour. Sharp stones cut their feet.
Every step felt like stepping on knives.
“Ah!”
A woman collapsed, crying out in agony.
Her husband leapt forward, brandishing a gold hairpin, pleading with the officer: “Sir, please have mercy! My wife is weak—let her rest a moment!”
The officer snatched the pin, weighing it with a greedy smile, then raised his whip.
Crack!
The whip lashed across the man’s back, leaving a streak of blood.
“Rest? Dream on!” the officer spat. “You think I gave back your pin for nothing? Open your mouth again, and I’ll whip you too! Move along!”
Beaten and humiliated, the man stumbled, supporting his sobbing wife as they staggered onward.
People kept falling, begging, and receiving nothing but lashes and insults.
Shen Qingyao’s face had gone pale as paper, sweat rolling down her forehead, lips drained of color.
One hand cradled her heavily pregnant belly, the other gripped Shen Qingzhu’s arm, body swaying dangerously.
“Qingzhu… my… my stomach hurts…”
Shen Qingdai hurried to support her sister. “Qingzhu, we can’t keep going! Her child is restless—if we continue, something terrible will happen!”
Shen Qingzhu’s gaze turned cold.
She scanned the whip-wielding officers, a flash of killing intent crossing her mind.
But reason quickly quelled the impulse.
No.
She couldn’t fight openly.
She had to use a method… invisible and untraceable, to make the convoy halt.
Her mind raced through her arsenal.
Guns? No.
Explosives? Even worse.
Her gaze finally settled on a thumbtack.
A cold curve tugged at her lips.
“Second sister, support our eldest.”
She whispered, slipping her right hand into her sleeve.
The next second, a gleaming thumbtack appeared at her fingertip.
She fixed her gaze on an officer, one of the most enthusiastic in cracking his whip, targeting the sole of his raised right foot.
Now!
Internal energy surged from her dantian, traveling through her meridians to her fingertip.
She snapped her finger.
Shhh—
The tiny tack flew silently, embedding itself in the officer’s straw-soled shoe.
“Ahh—!”
A shriek, inhuman and raw, erupted.
The officer jumped like a cat stepped on its tail, contorting his face in pain.
“What happened?!”
His companions were startled.
“Something… something stabbed my foot!” he wailed, removing his shoe to see the strange steel tack embedded in the sole.
“What the hell is this?”
Others leaned closer, baffled.
Before they could comprehend, more shrieks followed.
Three or four officers simultaneously found identical tacks in their shoes.
The convoy fell into chaotic confusion.
Inside the prison carriage, Zhao Jingzhan closed his eyes, seemingly unaffected by the commotion outside.
Yet his cold, piercing eyes slowly opened beneath the heavy black drape.
Through the gap, he observed the gray-robed monk who never left his side.
It seemed this three-thousand-mile journey would not be peaceful.
But who was behind this unseen attack, making the officers suffer in unison?
“Quiet the hell down!”
The chief officer, a beefy man with a scarred face, was furious at his screaming subordinates.
“It’s just a pin! Stop whining and keep moving!”
He stomped forward, attempting to restore order.
Shen Qingzhu’s gaze fell coldly on his foot.
Another thumbtack appeared on her fingertip.
The chief officer had just stepped forward.
Shhh!
The next second.
“Aaah—!!!”
His scream outshone all his men combined.
He hopped in pain, then fell face-first onto the ground, red-faced.
This time, he didn’t even have the strength to rise, lying twitching, gasping in terror.
A bold subordinate cautiously checked, and gasped.
The chief officer’s trousers had been pierced at the tailbone by… another thumbtack.
At that moment, every officer felt a chill rise from the soles of their feet to the back of their heads.
An unseen enemy.
An attack impossible to defend against.
Beyond anything they had ever known.
“Boss… this… this must be… some cursed thing…” one officer stammered.
“Yes, boss, something evil… we’d better rest, or… the next one could be us!”
The chief officer, still on the ground, felt darkness creeping into his vision from the excruciating pain. Unknown terror extinguished his remaining arrogance.
Through clenched teeth, he muttered: “Rest… here… for one minute…”
Finally, the order was given.
The convoy, as if granted reprieve, collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath.
Many couldn’t hold back tears, clutching each other in sorrow.
The chief officer, limping with assistance, looked for someone to blame.
His gaze swept the crowd and stopped at the heavily draped prison carriage.
Yes.
It must be them.
Among the convoy, only the people of Prince An’s household could have such audacity, such mastery, to oppose the court’s officers.
A flicker of resentment and calculation crossed his eyes as he limped toward the carriage.
Before the carriage, he forced a smile more grotesque than tears, bowing awkwardly.
“Sir…”
His voice quivered with a mix of fear and flattery.
“Let’s not beat around the bush. Your elusive methods… my men truly fear them. If you would show mercy, we promise utmost respect and obedience. You rest when you wish, we’ll rest when you wish, agreed?”
Silence in the carriage.
Long minutes passed without a sound.
The chief officer’s smile stiffened.
To him, the silence was agreement.
He inhaled deeply, his eyes gleaming with resentment, yet his expression became even more ingratiating.
“Good! Then it’s settled. Thank you for your mercy!”
He turned to leave, but his back radiated teeth-gritting fury.
Shen Qingzhu sat beside her sister, taking it all in. Her brow subtly furrowed.
She knew this officer would pin the entire ordeal on Zhao Jingzhan.
Which… saved her considerable trouble.
Yet she wondered how the cool, noble, and aloof “waste heir” would feel, being unwittingly blamed.