As the court session in the Western Garden drew to a close, officials from the Ministry of Justice, the Censorate, and the Court of Judicial Review, along with the factory guards, rushed to West Horse Market without delay.
With only three days until the emperor demanded results, they couldn’t afford to dawdle.
Yan Shifan, accompanied by Luo Longwen and others, arrived at West Horse Market a step ahead—always leading the way was one of Yan Shifan’s guiding principles.
But upon reaching the scene, he couldn’t help but curse, “That damned dog! I’d bet my life this is Zhu Ping’an’s doing!”
The place was livelier than a New Year’s temple fair—without flashing their credentials, they couldn’t even squeeze through the crowd.
At the heart of the throng, Liu Mu and his team were tirelessly explaining to the onlookers the difference between “true pirates” and “fake pirates,” as well as how to determine if the heads involved civilian deaths for false merit.
Yan Shifan’s curse was aimed squarely at Liu Mu and his crew.
“Brother Donglou, why the anger?” Luo Longwen asked, puzzled.
“We’ve lost the initiative!” Yan Shifan growled, his face dark.
Liu Mu and his men had beaten them to the punch, verifying the captives and heads in broad daylight before a massive crowd.
No matter who came to check, no matter which office, the methods would be roughly the same. The only thing missing was an on-site investigation in Suzhou to see if any villagers had been killed by Zhejiang troops for their heads.
If there was no civilian slaughter, an on-site probe wouldn’t turn up much—you couldn’t exactly frame Zhu Ping’an by chopping off ten thousand civilian heads yourself, could you?!
With tens of thousands of people coming and going, watching the verification live, the results were clear: the captives were real, the heads were real.
With so many eyewitnesses, it was now nearly impossible for Yan Shifan and his crew to tamper with the captives or heads.
That’s why Yan Shifan couldn’t hold back his fury at Zhu Ping’an.
Shortly after Yan Shifan’s arrival, the officials from the Ministry of Justice, Censorate, Court of Judicial Review, and factory guards showed up too. They confirmed Liu Mu’s identity and took custody of the pirate captives and heads.
Following Zhu Ping’an’s instructions, Liu Mu handed them over meticulously. Each of the 477 captives came with a transfer document detailing their name, age, physical traits, height, and a simple sketch—crude compared to modern sketches, but capturing three to five points of likeness.
The heads were simpler—just a count verification, though each bore a special mark to prevent swaps.
After the handover, the factory guards escorted Liu Mu and his team to a camp—one of the Fifth Army Camps, one of Beijing’s three major garrisons, guarded by two of its units.
“You’ve had a tough journey—rest here for a few days. Food, drink, and supplies are all taken care of. The emperor ordered us to verify your captives and heads within three days, and results will follow. If everything checks out, you can return to Suzhou to report; if there’s an issue, you’ll need to cooperate with the investigation. So, for these few days, you stay in this camp—no stepping outside without permission. Leave without approval, and don’t blame us factory guards for being ruthless.”
The factory guard addressed Liu Mu and his group.
“We obey your orders, sir. We won’t step a foot outside this camp,” Liu Mu replied, clasping his fists with his constables and soldiers.
“Sir, could our men help guard the captives and heads?” Liu Mu requested.
“Heh, don’t you trust the court?” the guard chuckled. “With the emperor watching and multiple offices handling this, no one can tamper with anything. What’s real stays real; what’s fake won’t pass. You’ve been told to stay here—just sit tight. Results in three days. Don’t cause trouble for yourselves—or for little Lord Zhu.”
The guard gave Liu Mu a look and laughed.
“Thank you for the advice, sir,” Liu Mu said, clasping his fists in gratitude.
He gleaned three key points from the guard: First, Emperor Jiajing took the Suzhou victory and tribute seriously— with such imperial focus, tampering would be risky. Second, multiple offices were involved—too many eyes to pull anything off easily. Third, results in three days showed the emperor’s urgency, leaving little time for interference.
All good news. The guard’s hints warranted Liu Mu’s thanks.
“Heh, looks like you’ve got some sense. One last tip: staying put is the best help you can give this case,” the guard said before leaving.
He instructed the Fifth Army Camp guards to watch Liu Mu’s group—feed them well, treat them fine, but no leaving. It was soft confinement.
After taking custody, the Ministry of Justice, Censorate, Court of Judicial Review, and factory guards split the captives and heads.
Each office first interrogated their share of captives and examined their share of heads.
Then they swapped and cross-checked—interrogating each other’s captives, inspecting each other’s heads.
Mutual oversight kept things in check.
Within hours, every interrogator within 300 li of Beijing was summoned by the offices and guards to question the captives. Every coroner in the same radius was called to examine the heads.
The captives were grilled relentlessly—barely two hours’ sleep a day, torture tools used countless times, driving them half-mad.
Each head was pored over by coroners repeatedly, nearly polished smooth from handling.
As the offices and guards verified the captives and heads, news of the Suzhou victory and tribute swept through Beijing.
“Suzhou’s incredible! Everywhere else in the south, folks are routed by pirates—armor tossed, running like dogs. But Suzhou stands alone, not just winning but wiping out forty or fifty thousand pirates in one go!”
“All thanks to the top scholar, Lord Zhu Ping’an. Suzhou’s win came from him leading the Zhejiang troops.”
“Everywhere else loses, but Suzhou wins—and a huge victory? Could they be faking it?”
“Bullshit! Suzhou brought the captives and heads to the capital yesterday—I saw it myself! Those captives—shifty-eyed, vicious as hell, spouting gibberish—pure pirates! And guess how many heads Lord Zhu delivered? Over ten thousand! All men, all young or middle-aged, with those Japanese hairstyles—old shave marks, not fresh. Real pirate heads, no doubt.”
Now, every teahouse, tavern, and even brothel in Beijing buzzed with talk of the Suzhou victory and tribute.
