Volume One: The Emperor’s Sword Chapter 77: Foolishness Is a Kind of Illness

There is a saying: some learn earlier, some later; and each has their own field of expertise.

To govern a country, a great scholar is needed; to keep a household in order, a virtuous wife; to sell vegetables, you need baskets; to buy wine, a large jug. Yet the most skilled at confiscating family property are not the constables, but the porters.

So before coming to the Mu family, Yun Que hired nearly a hundred of the strongest porters he could find in the northern capital, each for a tael of silver for a single day’s work. Such a high wage was unheard of, and the porters, delighted, worked with all their strength. Haitang from the Misty Pavilion and Eunuch Nan even witnessed more than a dozen porters, chanting as they went, carrying an entire artificial hill past them...

The two stood there, dumbstruck for quite a while.

“How dare you!”

Haitang finally snapped out of her daze, her fury unrestrained as she shouted, “How dare you impersonate the imperial order and confiscate the Mu family’s property! Marquis of Hanshui, you are truly audacious!”

Eunuch Nan echoed her from the side, “That’s right! Yun Que, you’ve led men to take over the official’s duties—clearly scheming! I will report this to His Majesty myself!”

Yun Que spread his hands innocently and said, “Hey, hey, don’t throw accusations around. I’ve said it many times: I’m here to collect a debt. Didn’t you both agree to let me do that first?”

“A debt? Just how much does the Mu family owe you that you have to make such a spectacle?” Haitang’s tone was cold.

Eunuch Nan looked even more skeptical, clearly thinking Yun Que was making it up.

“Didn’t you see clearly just now? Look again,” Yun Que said, producing the promissory note and holding it up for them to inspect.

This time, both of them saw it clearly.

After reading it, their faces changed dramatically.

“One hundred million taels of silver!” Haitang stared at Yun Que as if he were a ghost.

“Ten taels, a hundred, a thousand... but a hundred million? How much is that?” Eunuch Nan muttered, counting on his fingers, unable to calculate such an astronomical figure. He only knew that this was a number beyond comprehension—he’d never even written the character for ‘hundred million’ before.

Yun Que calmly put away the note and resumed overseeing the work.

Haitang was flushed with anger, yet powerless. The note was in his hands, she herself had agreed to let him collect the debt first. It was obvious he had set a trap and she had stepped right into it.

“Well played, Marquis of Hanshui. For the Mu family’s sake, you’ve certainly exhausted your wits,” Haitang said, her rage turning to laughter as she strode outside.

When she reached the door, she paused, raised her hand, and patted Yun Que’s left shoulder. “Young man, it’s best not to be too sharp—steel that is too hard breaks easily.”

Her pat was gentle, like an elder teaching a younger one—no real threat, but Yun Que felt uncomfortable. Not because it hurt, nor out of some fastidiousness—just a simple discomfort.

The feeling was like picking up a frozen venomous snake, never knowing when it might bite. But the sensation soon faded, and Yun Que paid it no mind.

After Haitang and Eunuch Nan left, Mu Qingyao finally breathed a sigh of relief. If they had truly tried to seize her Flower Spirit Sword, she would have fought to the death.

“You always have a way. I’m so foolish—I can’t do anything right,” Mu Qingyao said softly, her spirits low.

“Foolishness is an illness—it needs treatment,” Yun Que replied seriously.

“How do you treat it?” Mu Qingyao looked up, puzzled.

“It’s simple. Find a clever person, eat and sleep with him every day, and in time you’ll become clever too—someone like me, for example.” Yun Que kept a straight face, but a smile tugged at his lips.

At first, Mu Qingyao listened earnestly. As she realized what he meant, her cheeks flushed and she shot him a playful glare, her gloom easing considerably.

“With your father imprisoned, what do you plan to do?” Yun Que asked, watching the porters come and go in the courtyard.

“The Mu family could never have colluded with barbarians. My father was framed. Only by finding out who set us up can we clear his name,” Mu Qingyao said, worry clouding her features. “But I have no leads at all.”

“Difficult,” Yun Que replied with a single word, leaning against the window and falling silent, his gaze fixed on the courtyard.

How does one redress a crime that never happened? It was clear the emperor wanted to make an example of the Mu family, confiscating all their copper and iron mines to forge the imperial sword. How could they possibly pin it on the emperor himself?

The Mu family’s disaster seemed unsolvable.

Mu Qingyao, too, knew how unlikely it was to overturn such an injustice, and she sat in silence.

After a long while, Yun Que spoke. “They’re not here to confiscate the house—they’re searching for something.”

Mu Qingyao followed his gaze and saw Haitang and Eunuch Nan hurrying past beyond the courtyard, not even glancing at the small house.

She frowned, unable to grasp his meaning.

“What about your family’s other treasure?” Yun Que asked.

“It’s with my great-uncle... They’re after the Thousand Leaf Sword!” Mu Qingyao blurted out, then paused, thinking. “No, great-uncle is imprisoned in the Sky Prison. He wouldn’t have carried the treasure with him, nor left it at home—he must have hidden it.”

The great-uncle she mentioned was Mu Gui, the elder of the Mu family.

“You’re not so foolish after all,” Yun Que teased.

Mu Qingyao ignored his jest. “My father warned all the family elders. Even if some didn’t believe him, they would still make their own preparations. Great-uncle may have suffered at your hands, but he’s no fool—he would have hidden the treasure ahead of time.”

Yun Que nodded in agreement.

For all his arrogance and selfishness, Mu Gui had managed the family’s affairs for years—he couldn’t truly be a fool.

The Thousand Leaf Sword and the Flower Spirit Sword were the Mu family’s lifeblood. If anything happened to them, it would shake their very foundation.

Outside, the commotion gradually died down. Most things had been moved to the great hall, and few people remained in the inner quarters.

“Instead of pleading innocence, it’s better to preserve your strength and wait for the chance to rise again—just as your father did when he sent out three hundred carts of dowry from the Mu estate,” Yun Que said, shaking his head. “It’s a shame that aside from your father, everyone else in the family is too short-sighted. The Thousand Leaf Sword would be safest in your hands. Your great-uncle is too selfish; the result may be that your family is left with only the Flower Spirit Sword.”

Mu Qingyao lowered her head, lost in thought. She knew Yun Que was right—not just because she was the foremost sword disciple of the Southern Academy, but also because her master was at the Core Formation stage.

If she held both treasures and hid away in Sword Palace, neither the emperor nor the Misty Pavilion could do anything; no one could seize the Mu family’s treasures.

But now the situation was dire.

Mu Gui, thinking himself clever, had hidden the Thousand Leaf Sword. If the Misty Pavilion found it first, it would be lost forever. The family would be ruined, and even their ancestral treasures would be gone—the Mu family would be crippled.

“When you visited your father in prison, did he mention the whereabouts of the Thousand Leaf Sword?” Yun Que asked.

“No. He only told me to be careful and to deliver the promissory note to you. He didn’t say anything else,” Mu Qingyao replied.

“Then it seems your father doesn’t know where Mu Gui hid the sword,” Yun Que mused.

“Great-uncle is always very cautious. If he hid the sword, outsiders would never know. The Misty Pavilion will not find it,” Mu Qingyao said firmly.

“Silly girl, you really aren’t very clever,” Yun Que said, tapping her smooth forehead.

“Please, enlighten me,” Mu Qingyao answered without annoyance, lifting her face in stubborn defiance, her beautiful eyes full of determination.

Yun Que chuckled. “Maybe your great-uncle is good at hiding things and nobody can find it. But can he keep it hidden forever? He would have to entrust the hiding place to someone he truly trusts. Otherwise, if he dies in prison, the sword would be lost forever—what’s the difference between that and losing it outright?”

“It’s not that he can’t hide it well—what matters is whether someone will be unable to resist and go looking for it ahead of time.”

As Yun Que finished, Mu Qingyao suddenly understood. Her brows knitted as she murmured a name: “Yi Hongwen...”

As Mu Gui’s most favored grandson—and a disciple of the Sword Palace, spared from imprisonment—Yi Hongwen was likely entrusted with the sword’s whereabouts. If he found the treasure first, the Misty Pavilion would take it without effort.

Thinking of her cousin’s character and cunning, Mu Qingyao grew even more worried for the Thousand Leaf Sword.

Then she heard Yun Que’s voice, firm and resolute.

“That’s why we must get to the Thousand Leaf Sword before Yi Hongwen does!”