Chapter 6 — The Village That Had No Warehouse Shen Rui woke to the sound of someone shouting. “Everyone, get up! We’re leaving in half an hour!” He opened his eyes. For a moment, he stared at the canvas above him, hoping the voice had been part of a nightmare. Then the shout came again. “Half an hour!” Shen Rui pulled the blanket over his face. If I pretend to be dead, will they bury me and let me sleep? Outside the tent, a soldier froze while tying his belt. The official standing beside him glanced over. Neither of them said anything. Inside, Shen Rui turned over. Half an hour is not enough time to mourn my bed. A hand suddenly pulled the tent flap open. Minister Han stood outside. “Young Master Shen, get ready.” Shen Rui peeked out from beneath the blanket. “I’m already ready.” “You’re lying down.” “That is my traveling posture.” Minister Han took a deep breath. “We must reach Qinghe Village before noon.” “Why? Is the village going to disappear?” “Enough nonsense. Get up.” Shen Rui sighed dramatically and sat up. One day, I’ll become powerful enough to make everyone attend court at midnight. Minister Han’s expression stiffened. Shen Rui climbed out of the tent, entirely unaware of the strange looks following him. The convoy departed shortly afterward. The captured assassins were transported in a separate guarded wagon. The surviving officials spoke little, and the soldiers remained alert, their hands never straying far from their weapons. The previous night’s attack had changed the atmosphere. Even Shen Rui could feel it. Before long, the road narrowed, leading through a stretch of farmland. Several villagers worked in the fields, but when they noticed the imperial convoy, they quickly lowered their heads and moved aside. Shen Rui watched them through the carriage window. The fields were dry despite the recent season of rain. Some irrigation channels had been deliberately blocked, and several storage sheds stood empty. This place is poorer than the records suggested. He leaned closer to the window. A farmer was carrying a sack over his shoulder. The sack was small, but the man struggled beneath its weight. Shen Rui’s eyes narrowed. The sack had been stitched shut with thick black thread. Not grain. Something else. He sat back. There are too many suspicious things happening in one place. It’s almost insulting. The carriage entered Qinghe Village just before noon. The village was larger than Shen Rui had expected, with a central road lined by wooden houses and small shops. Yet there were few people outside. Doors closed as the convoy passed, and the villagers avoided looking directly at the imperial guards. Minister Han stepped out of the carriage. “Where is the village chief?” An elderly man hurried forward, bowing repeatedly. “This humble servant is the village chief, Wang De. Greetings, my lord.” “Take us to the warehouse used for grain storage.” The village chief’s face went pale. “Warehouse?” Minister Han’s gaze sharpened. “Yes. The warehouse listed in the Ministry of Revenue records.” Wang De lowered his head. “My lord, there is no warehouse in this village.” Silence settled over the road. Shen Rui slowly stepped down from the carriage. There it is. The missing warehouse. The diversion route had led directly here, but the village chief claimed it did not exist. Minister Han held out the register. “This document states that grain was delivered here three times in the past six months.” Wang De’s hands trembled. “This humble servant knows nothing about it.” Shen Rui glanced around. The villagers were listening from behind their doors. Some looked frightened. Others looked angry. But none appeared surprised. That meant they had known about the shipments. Or they had known enough to be afraid. Shen Rui walked toward the village chief. “Chief Wang, how many families live here?” The old man looked confused by the question. “Approximately eighty, young master.” “How much grain does the village produce each year?” Wang De hesitated. “Not enough to fill the official quota.” “Then why would grain be delivered here?” “It wasn’t.” Shen Rui tilted his head. The chief immediately lowered his gaze. He’s not lying about the deliveries. He’s afraid of admitting who received them. Shen Rui turned toward the nearest house. A young boy stood in the doorway, clutching a wooden bowl. His cheeks were hollow, and his clothes were too thin for the weather. Shen Rui looked at the bowl. It contained watery porridge. His expression remained calm, but his eyes darkened. Someone stole grain from starving people and recorded it as a legitimate delivery. He turned back to Minister Han. “We should inspect the eastern fields.” Minister Han frowned. “Why?” “Because the warehouse isn’t here.” “That is obvious.” “And if the grain didn’t stay in the village, it had to pass through somewhere.” Minister Han studied him before nodding. “Chief Wang, take us to the eastern fields.” The chief’s face tightened. “My lord, there is nothing there.” Shen Rui smiled faintly. “Then it shouldn’t take long to show us.” The village chief had no choice but to lead them. They walked past the houses, toward the edge of the village. The fields gradually gave way to a narrow path surrounded by tall reeds. At the end stood an abandoned shrine, its roof damaged and its doors hanging crookedly. Shen Rui stopped. The shrine was covered in dust, but the ground near its entrance was freshly disturbed. There were wagon tracks. Several of them. He crouched and touched the soil. The tracks led behind the shrine, where a concealed path disappeared into the trees. So this is where the grain went. Minister Han approached. “What is it?” Shen Rui pointed at the ground. “Wagons.” The soldiers spread out and searched the area. One of them soon called out. “Minister! There’s a hidden entrance!” Behind the shrine, they discovered wooden planks covering a narrow opening in the earth. The soldiers removed the planks. A stale smell rose from below. Not grain. Oil. And blood. Shen Rui’s eyes turned cold. He had smelled it before. The smell of a place where people had been held against their will. Minister Han’s face became grim. “Light the torches.” Two soldiers descended into the underground passage. A moment later, one of them shouted. “My lord! There are storage rooms below!” The convoy moved into action. Shen Rui followed Minister Han down the steps, though the minister reached out to stop him. “Young Master Shen, remain outside.” Shen Rui looked at the dark passage. Of course. Everyone wants to keep me safe only after dragging me into danger. “I’ll stay behind you,” he said. “That is not what I meant.” “But it is what I heard.” Minister Han stared at him, then reluctantly allowed two guards to accompany Shen Rui. The underground passage opened into a wide chamber. Several wooden crates were stacked against the walls. Some contained grain, while others held weapons, sealed documents, and bundles of official seals. Shen Rui’s attention shifted to a table near the far wall. A ledger lay open on its surface. Beside it was a list of names. He stepped closer. The names belonged to officials from the Ministry of Revenue, local administrators, and military supply officers. At the bottom of the page, one name had been circled in red ink. Zhao Qian. Deputy Minister of Revenue. Shen Rui’s eyes narrowed. Well, well. The man who called me useless is involved in something far more interesting than paperwork. A sudden sound came from the passage behind them. Metal scraping against stone. Shen Rui turned. A soldier stood at the entrance, his sword drawn. But his eyes were wrong. Too calm. The soldier lunged. Shen Rui moved instantly, pulling Minister Han aside as the blade cut through the space where his throat had been. The guards reacted, but the attacker was fast. He kicked one guard into the wall and seized a torch, throwing it toward the scattered oil jars. Flames burst across the floor. “Get out!” someone shouted. Smoke filled the chamber. Shen Rui grabbed the ledger from the table and shoved it inside his robe. I came here to investigate grain. Why am I now stealing evidence from a burning underground hideout? Minister Han coughed. “Shen Rui! Move!” Shen Rui glanced toward the burning passage. The attacker was trying to escape through a narrow side entrance. He could pursue him. He could catch him. He could end this in seconds. Instead, Shen Rui grabbed a fallen wooden pole and pushed a burning beam away from the nearest guard. “Get everyone out first!” The guards dragged the injured soldier toward the stairs. Shen Rui followed, coughing as smoke filled his lungs. Behind them, the underground chamber roared with fire. By the time they emerged, flames were already rising through the shrine’s floor. The village chief stood several steps away, trembling violently. Shen Rui looked at him. The old man stared at the burning shrine, tears gathering in his eyes. “They’ll kill us now,” he whispered. Minister Han turned sharply. “Who will?” Wang De’s lips shook. But before he could answer, an arrow flew from the trees. It struck the village chief in the chest. The old man collapsed. The guards immediately formed a defensive circle. Shen Rui stared at the fallen man. Then he looked toward the forest. They silenced him before he could speak. His hand tightened around the hidden ledger beneath his robe. The investigation had uncovered more than stolen grain. It had uncovered a network willing to kill officials, villagers, and anyone else who came too close. And somewhere in the capital, someone powerful was waiting to learn whether Shen Rui and Minister Han had survived.