NOVEL NEXT Chapter 284: The Interrogation
The south storehouse was not built for men, but for grain.
That was what Yaozu liked most about it.
Grain didn't complain when you bind it. Grain didn't bleed when you cut too deep. Grain didn't lie to your face while its eyes roll with panic.
The air was colder here than in the east chamber, damp stone sweating behind the stacked bundles of straw and firewood. Lanterns swung low, throwing gold against frost that bloomed on the ground in white streaks. The smell of old millet clung to the rafters, sweet rot gnawed thin by rats.
The prisoners were set against the wall like sacks that had burst and been tied again in haste.
Four of them, bound at wrist and ankle, mouths gagged until Yaozu had ordered them stripped of cloth. He liked hearing the way men breathed when they thought they might not have much time left to do it.
Gaoyu, Yan Luo's man, had done the tying.
The knots were good—sharp, cutting at flesh, not too much to kill circulation, just enough to remind the body it wasn't free. Yaozu tested one himself, tugging on a loop until the man beneath grunted.
He nodded. Clean work.
"You want the room?" Gaoyu asked from the doorway, arms folded.
"No," Yaozu said, crouching in front of the first man. "You can stay. If one of them tries to be clever, I'd rather you break his jaw before I have to."
Gaoyu smirked faintly and leaned back, letting the shadows cover him.
Yaozu pulled a knife from his belt. Not his best one, not his favorite. Just steel, sharp enough to do the work. He let the lantern light catch on it while he studied the first man.
"You were dressed as monks," he said. His voice was calm, conversational. "A decent enough trick. I don't blame you for trying it. But it takes coin to buy robes. Coin to buy silence on the road. Coin to buy a coffin and have it carried past watch posts without question."
The man's eyes darted, trying not to flinch.
Yaozu rested the knife on his thigh and leaned in closer. "Coin from Baiguang, yes. That much is obvious. But coin doesn't move by itself. Someone in Daiyu smoothed your way. Someone in this city. Someone who thought they were clever enough to keep their name out of it."
The man licked his lips, then shut them tight.
Yaozu tilted his head. "You know what I like about millet?" he asked. "It doesn't lie. You can tell how good the field is by how it tastes on your tongue. No need to ask the farmer. The grain speaks for itself. You, however, are not grain. And so, I will have to ask."
He touched the knife lightly to the man's cheek. Not cutting—just the whisper of steel against skin. "Who paid for the road?"
The man held his silence.
Yaozu waited exactly three breaths, then nodded once. Gaoyu stepped out of the shadows and slammed his fist into the man's ribs, sharp and precise. A crack split the air, and the man doubled forward, gagging.
"Better," Yaozu said, almost gently. He crouched lower so his eyes met the prisoner's. "Now, let's try that again."
The second man started shaking before Yaozu even turned his head toward him. His knees knocked against the rope binding his ankles. Yaozu smiled without warmth. Fear always moves faster in groups.
"You," Yaozu said, pointing with the tip of his knife. "The road. The name."
The second man swallowed. His lips trembled. "Merchants," he whispered hoarsely. "Grain merchants. One of them. Paid for the cart, paid for the silence."
"Which merchant?"
"L-Lord Ren's people," he stammered. "The ones with the warehouses by the river. They—they said it would be easy coin. That the boy wouldn't matter. Just a bargaining chip."
Yaozu's eyes narrowed. Lord Ren. A name that had appeared too many times in lists he didn't like. Always small things, never enough to strike—but together, the weight of them pressed like rot under floorboards.
He glanced back at Gaoyu. "Mark it," he said.
Gaoyu grunted and etched the name into the dirt with his boot heel.
Yaozu straightened, turning back to the first man. He tapped the flat of his knife against the prisoner's chin until the man forced his head up.
"Your friend has bought himself another hour of life," Yaozu said evenly. "You, on the other hand, owe me more than silence. Who arranged the road? Which gate captain?"
The man's eyes widened, panic flashing. His throat worked as if trying to force words out against their will. Yaozu tilted his knife a fraction, and that was enough.
"Captain Hua," the man croaked. "South watch. He turned the bell for us—looked the other way when the coffin crossed."
Yaozu felt the corner of his mouth lift. "Better."
He stood, sliding the knife back into his belt. He didn't need more. He already had enough: a noble's merchant line, a watch captain, a pattern of grain and gold feeding into Baiguang's hands.
It was more than suspicion now. It was evidence.
Gaoyu stepped forward, fist tightening as if to finish the first man. Yaozu shook his head.
"No," he said. "Alive. The Empress will want to hear their voices crack for herself. She doesn't trust parchment."
Gaoyu snorted, but he pulled back. "Fine. But I'll make sure their tongues don't forget what they've said."
Yaozu let him.
Mercy was not his trade. He turned to leave, boots crunching on frost, the names already etched into his mind like scars.
At the threshold, he paused. His gaze flicked once to the east wing, though stone and shadow hid it from view. The boy was alive. That was the only reason these men were still breathing.
If the child hadn't come back, Yaozu would have burned the storehouse down with the prisoners still inside and salted the ground so nothing ever grew again.
He stepped into the night air, pulling the cold deep into his lungs. He had names now. And he had a woman waiting who would know exactly what to do with them.