Volume One: The Inspector and the Candidate Chapter Three: The Best Defense Is a Good Offense

To put it simply, the greatest political correctness in the imperial court of Ming at this moment was to overthrow the so-called treacherous faction, whose core consisted mainly of eunuchs from the secret police. As the son of Eunuch Huang Jin, Huang Ming naturally became a target for the civil officials who prided themselves on being pillars and the conscience of the court, a convenient scapegoat for their attacks.

Now that he was embroiled in a major case, it offered them a perfect opportunity.

Censor Zhou frowned, glancing back to glare at his indiscreet subordinate before regaining his composure and saying, "Of course there is evidence, but there is no need for you to see it at this time..."

"So there isn't any. Neither witnesses nor physical proof. Just because I happened to be at the scene, you arrested me and pinned such a heavy crime on me?" Huang Ming immediately interrupted, retorting sharply.

"I'm a mere sixteen-year-old, weak and inexperienced. I have neither the means nor the motive to collude with criminals and carry out such a brazen prison break in the capital!" Huang Ming continued, laying out the facts. He knew well that at this moment, he must seize every opportunity to suppress his opponents with reason and confidence if he hoped to leave this prison unscathed.

Compared to Censor Zhou, an old hand at legalese and official debate, Huang Ming was no match. But when it came to logical argument over the case itself, ten officials like Zhou would not be his equal.

"Furthermore, even if I were so lawless, would I be so foolish as to show up at the scene personally, when there was absolutely no need, just to wait for you to arrest me?"

Seeing his imposing presence and righteous words, everyone there, including Huang Bingkun, was taken aback. Was this truly the same timid, fearful young master who nearly lost control from fright when first brought here?

Was this the transformation of one who, after a single night in prison, found sudden enlightenment?

While all stared in astonishment, Huang Ming pressed on, "I know exactly what you intend—to use this opportunity to kill me, then report to your superiors that I committed suicide out of guilt! That way, you can cement the charge of colluding with criminals and breaking prisoners free, and use it to implicate my father. What a vicious scheme!"

"Nonsense! We are not the secret police. How could we act with such utter lawlessness?" Zhou retorted immediately.

"I'm telling the truth. I'm not like you, spouting lies with ease. I have proof!" Huang Ming stepped forward, lifting his chin to reveal a ring of bruises around his neck. "Had I not been lucky, I would already be a corpse!"

Earlier, a man in the cell had nearly strangled Huang Ming to death, leaving a deep, terrifying mark. The bruises, black and sunken, encircled his throat—a clear sign to anyone with sense of how close he had come to dying.

Captain Huang was the first to exclaim in shock and anger, "Who did this? Was it someone from your own South City constabulary?"

Previously preoccupied with escorting Huang Ming and hindered by the dim lighting, he had not noticed these injuries. Now, seeing them, he realized the gravity of the situation—and the opportunity it presented.

But before he could speak, Huang Ming declared, "I'd rather go with them to the Northern Division than die here! If you try to stop us, it only proves your guilty conscience and murderous intent. Word of this will spread, and I don't believe you can hide the truth forever!"

Censor Zhou's expression finally changed. He glanced at the warden, who dared not meet his gaze and immediately looked away in guilt.

In that instant, Zhou realized Huang Ming had spoken the truth. Both the constabulary and he himself now stood on the wrong side of both law and morality.

"You have no conclusive evidence linking me to the case, and yet you allowed someone in your custody to try killing me. I have every reason to believe you are framing me, and I have the right to ask the Embroidered Guard to protect me!" Huang Ming declared, signaling Captain Huang to shield him and prepare to leave.

Huang Bingkun instantly understood, drew his sword, and stepped forward, shouting, "Even if we die here today, we will ensure Master Huang's safety! Otherwise, where is justice?"

What irony, that the Embroidered Guard, of all people, would invoke justice to a censor.

But this time, Censor Zhou did not object. As the group came forward, he stepped aside without a word, watching as they escorted Huang Ming away.

Only after the four had left the prison did someone beside him whisper, "Sir, are we really letting them just take him away?"

"Tell me, who arranged the murder attempt?" Zhou shot back, his sharp gaze fixed on the warden.

Outside, Huang Ming and the others, now speeding away in a carriage, only exhaled in relief once the constabulary offices were behind them.

Huang Bingkun studied Huang Ming carefully and couldn't help but say, "Young Master, you are truly formidable—like father, like son. I am in awe. That Zhou Zhengyang is called the Iron-Faced Censor; even our commander cannot overawe him."

"It's just a coincidence," Huang Ming replied modestly, rubbing his forehead.

Now that the crisis had passed, his mind was flooded with jumbled flashes of memory, leaving him uneasy.

"But those people surely won't let this go easily..."

"What are your plans for me now?" Huang Ming asked, catching his meaning.

"I intended to send you straight home, but now it seems the only option is to have you stay at the Northern Division for a while. Don't worry, there are guest rooms and attendants there."

"You mean I should hide at the division, waiting for the case to be resolved or the danger to pass?" Huang Bingkun nodded; it was the only plan he could think of.

But Huang Ming shook his head. "No, that's too passive."

"Then what do you suggest, Young Master?"

"Didn't you just promise to get to the bottom of this case? If I go with you to investigate and clear my name, I won't need to hide at all. The best defense is offense, as the saying goes."

"Eh?" Huang Bingkun was taken aback.

His earlier words in the prison had been nothing more than a pretext, never expecting Young Master to take them seriously.

This case involved the White Lotus Sect—a matter of grave seriousness. Should he intervene and fail to solve it, he, a mere centurion in the Embroidered Guard, could never bear the consequences.

"Enough hesitation! Take me to the crime scene at once. The trail is still fresh, and we might find clues," insisted Huang Ming.

More images flickered in his mind, urging him that only by reaching the scene could he uncover the truth and clear himself.

Moments later, with a shout to the driver, the carriage, which had been heading north, suddenly turned around, speeding southward down Zhengyangmen Street towards the scene of the crime.