Chapter 101: The Setup

“Your Grace, this youth is reckless; perhaps we should...” Zhao Qian, then Grand Master of the Palace, raised his hand and made a gesture across his neck, implying an obvious meaning.

Wang Yun immediately raised his hand to stop him, stood up, and bowed to those around him.

He said, “I, on behalf of the Han dynasty that has lasted four centuries, thank you all sincerely. I hope each of you will take a deed and deliver it to the steward’s office by midnight. There will be rewards afterward.”

The crowd repeatedly declined and then dispersed.

“Your Grace...” Zhao Qian lingered, wanting to persuade further.

The money was indeed from Wang Yun, but in the end, it would turn into reputation benefiting Wang Yun himself.

Because, as a community of shared interests, this money was essentially Wang Yun’s contribution on behalf of the ministers.

“No need for more words, Yanxin. The Hedong Wei family is hardly one to get along with. There’s no need to wade into this muddy water...” Wang Yun glanced at the sky, revealing a meaningful smile. “This matter will be handled by others. Yanxin, you must still monitor the movements of several families. This is a matter of life and death—if anything goes wrong, eliminate them all.”

As one of the few military officials with real power in the imperial faction, Wang Yun would never use Zhao Qian’s troops to fight the Wei family.

Since Chen Cong insisted on the benefit, naturally that young man should contribute some effort.

Zhao Qian cupped his hands. “Since Your Grace has made a decision, I shall take my leave.”

“Yanxin, go now.”

After seeing Zhao Qian off, Wang Yun waved his long sleeves and returned to his seat.

It was nearly the hour of the boar.

The man carrying a box finally arrived, hurriedly entering the main hall under the gatekeeper’s guidance.

“Minister Wang, quickly prepare some food—I’m starving!”

Wang Yun smiled, gestured to his servants, then turned to Chen Cong.

“Zining is punctual, but...”

“But?” Chen Cong put down the box, found a random seat, and sneered. “Minister Wang, we had an agreement: you provide the rewards, I kill Dong Zhuo. At this point, don’t tell me you want to back out.”

Wang Yun shook his head. “Zining, you misunderstand. Someone is ungrateful—refusing to hand over the land deeds and even trying to demand benefits.”

Chen Cong fell silent.

Wang Yun almost said outright that he intended to use him as a tool.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

Old Wang was working for him; if trouble came, he’d be the one cleaned up—it was only fair.

If he didn’t remove this thorn from his heart, wouldn’t all the benefits be wasted?

“Enough. Where is he?”

“By my reckoning, it’s almost time. To be safe, Zining, why not gather some men? That way, we can leave the girl here to talk with me.”

Chen Cong was surprised. “What ragtag lot? Need to gather men?”

Wang Yun exaggerated on purpose to send Chen Cong away. “Probably no fewer than fifty sharp soldiers.”

For a moment, both outside and inside the box fell silent.

Inside the box, Diao Chan was conflicted.

If Chen Cong went to gather men, she’d have a chance to communicate with Wang Yun. But...

Chen Cong was the son-in-law of the tyrant Dong Zhuo; as long as he didn’t truly betray Dong, no one dared punish him, not even for treason.

But if he discovered she was leaking information—just revealing his foster father’s plans to Dong Zhuo...

Outside the box,

Chen Cong looked at Wang Yun as if he were a foolish dog.

Fifty sharp soldiers?

To gather men?

Did he, Chen Wudi, still have any shame left?

Wang Yun saw his hesitation and smiled awkwardly. “Zining, why that look?”

Chen Cong muttered, “I’d heard scholars had foul mouths, but today I truly witnessed it.”

Wang Yun was puzzled. “Why say that?”

He had already exaggerated as much as possible and couldn’t understand Chen Cong’s reaction.

Just then, a servant brought in food. Chen Cong ignored Wang Yun, opened the box, and said, “Concubine, come out and eat. You’re shy even in your own home?”

Diao Chan’s expression was complicated. She took Chen Cong’s hand, bowed slightly to Wang Yun, and greeted him as “Foster Father.”

Both had gone a whole day without a drop of water and were hungry.

Diao Chan was restrained, nibbling on cakes in small bites.

Chen Cong looked like a starving ghost reincarnated, holding a lamb leg in one hand, soup in the other, spinning three rounds of flatbread.

During the meal,

The gatekeeper announced, “Master, Young Master Wei has arrived.”

“Oh? How many?”

“More than thirty.”

Wang Yun looked at Chen Cong. “Zining, see, this...”

Chen Cong, clutching his chicken soup, said, “Let them in. Do you want me to go out and greet them?”

Wang Yun nodded and beckoned to the gatekeeper.

Soon,

A pale-faced young man led thirty-six black-clad men, swords in hand, into the main hall.

Chen Cong glanced once and lost interest.

Sharp soldiers?

Wang Yun’s big mouth was like a pair of worn trousers—he dared to say anything.

These men had no armor, no bows, nor crossbows. Holding a broken sword made them soldiers?

Wei Ning surveyed the hall and smiled.

An unfed man, a woman veiled in gauze, and an aging Wang Yun.

So destitute.

In truth, he dared to humiliate Wang Yun because of his family’s backing, but more importantly, he knew how miserable the officials in Luoyang truly were.

What about his prospective father-in-law Cai Yong?

A world-renowned scholar, under Dong Zhuo’s oppressive watch, his household had fewer than a hundred servants—forget about a guardhouse.

Wei Ning pulled out a land deed from his pocket and shook it. “Minister Wang, here is the deed to the Emerald Red Mansion. Where is my fifty thousand gold?”

Snort!

*Cough, cough!*

Chen Cong wiped chicken soup from his mouth, waving his hands. “Sorry, sorry, please continue. I just burned my mouth on the soup.”

Emerald Red Mansion? Fifty thousand gold?

Chen Cong suddenly realized he was still too polite; he needed to learn from this gentleman.

Look at how this business was done—truly courting death with style.

Of course,

If Chen Cong ran this business, he’d be called a commercial titan.

Wei Ning scornfully withdrew his gaze.

“Minister Wang, where did you find these beggars? What a disgrace. But that young lady is quite comely—why not make her a prize? *Cough, cough.*”

Wang Yun smiled. Chen Cong’s detached demeanor clearly showed he wanted to see him embarrassed.

Now it was settled—no need for Wang Yun to grovel to Chen Cong anymore.

Chen Cong laughed, grabbed a leftover lamb bone, and tossed it casually. It struck Wei Ning’s face—not hard, not soft.

“Like prizes, huh? Here you go.”

The noble scion of the Hedong Wei family, a figure of prominence.

Wei Ning had never been so humiliated. He began coughing violently, glaring at Wang Yun.

“Minister Wang... this junior is indeed rude. *Cough, cough.* Then don’t blame me. Take him down!”

His thirty-six followers drew swords.

As Chen Cong rose, he hooked the solid wood table in front of him with his foot and kicked it.

The table flew forward with the wind, instantly crushing one head and continuing its momentum, toppling seven more followers.

Before Chen Cong leapt in, the others, momentarily stunned, all chose to retreat en masse.

Chen Cong advanced, and they stepped back further.

Until Chen Cong directly approached and lifted Wei Ning, they continued to instinctively retreat.

“I am Chen Cong, from Qiao County. What is your name?”

“*Cough, cough!* Wei Ning, courtesy name... *cough, cough,* Zhongdao...”

Wei Zhongdao?

Wasn’t that the husband of the great talented lady Cai Yan?

Chen Cong wanted to ask more, but Wei Ning suddenly began coughing uncontrollably, coughing blood violently.

Finally, he vomited a mouthful of reversed blood, stared fiercely at Chen Cong, and died silently.

Damn!

Chen Cong threw Wei Ning aside and vigorously wiped the blood from his hands.

What a villain—damn it, who pulls such stunts?

“You all saw it—he died on his own!”