Chapter 83: After the New Year (Part Three) 4000+...

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“I’ve heard that this character, Sun Wukong, is utterly lawless—he caused havoc in Heaven and fought his way into the underworld. The storyteller at the Journey to the West Tavern tells it well enough, but that rogue monkey is nothing but a heretic! Violent by nature!”

“Elder Yuan speaks the truth: the rogue monkey is a bandit of the mountains, a fiend of the rivers, wholly rebellious and depraved!”

“A man should be upright and proper, adhering to rules and decorum. The Princess’s tavern telling such tales is a disgrace! If all our people followed the rogue monkey’s example, wouldn’t Great Tang become a kingdom of monkeys—a den of thieves?”

“Hahaha! Well said, well said! I, Song, fully agree with you all!”

“Master Song, it is an honor! For you, head of the Imperial Academy, to join our scholars’ gathering in Chang’an today is a true privilege for us.”

Master Song cupped his hands in a formal greeting, his smile as stiff and measured as his demeanor. “Elder Yuan, you flatter me.”

Taking the seat of honor, he surveyed the gathered scholars, exchanged a glance with Elder Yuan, and said, “Gentlemen, we have all mastered the Four Books and Five Classics, our minds brimming with strategy and virtue. It is our duty to sacrifice ourselves for justice, to instruct more students. Yet, who would have thought that a mere book, Journey to the West, would throw all of Chang’an into chaos? Such base work has no place here—we cannot tolerate it!”

“Indeed, Master Song is right. The content of Journey to the West is entirely at odds with the principles by which we govern. It strays from the proper path. That rogue monkey commits every crime under the sun, and as for the pig demon—he’s gluttonous and lecherous, stirring up base desires. Such things are unfit for refined ears or eyes! Crude and lowly!”

“Master Song, as the head of the Imperial Academy, why not lead us to confront the Journey to the West Tavern and debate with them? Such unruly stories should not be spread. We should find the original manuscript and burn it to ashes!”

“That’s not all—we must also drag out the author and flog him fifty times, so he learns the consequences of wild fabrication!”

Song Jing smoothed his beard, glanced proudly at Elder Yuan, and nodded. “Very good. Then, when shall we set out?”

“No time like the present—why not go now?” Elder Yuan lowered his eyes and smiled.

“Agreed!”

A large group of scholars set off in force from the empty Qi Family Tavern, heading straight for the Journey to the West Tavern in the East Market. Their arrival brought business to a halt. The scholars denounced the storytellers, rolled up their sleeves, beat the staff, and smashed up the place.

Ding’s face was swollen from the beating; many items were destroyed, and some diners were inevitably injured.

That day, Hai Yunxing, who was responsible for storytelling, was also beaten black and blue...

Now his clothes were torn, several teeth missing, and he could barely speak.

“Princess... Princess, you must stand up for me! These scholars, led by someone called Master Song, smashed our tavern. If it weren’t for the guards intervening, Journey to the West Tavern might have been destroyed entirely!”

Wu Yueling had Master Sun check Hai Yunxing’s bruised and battered face. She was puzzled—scholars? A group of scholars dared to stir up trouble? That was bold, if not absurd.

“Why did they attack our tavern? We’ve always run our business with honesty and fairness. It feels like someone is behind this, maybe the Qi family?” She dabbed medicine on Hai Yunxing’s wounds, soothing him while mulling over whether to send the militia she was training to deal with these troublemakers. If they liked fighting, let them have a real fight. After all, the two thousand or so men needed practical exercises.

“They said that the story of Journey to the West shouldn’t exist, that even the author should be paraded and shamed. They accused the storytellers of heresy and depravity! And they threatened not just this tavern, but warned others who work with us—they said they’ll visit the West Market Journey to the West Tavern tomorrow... cough, cough.”

Hai Yunxing lay on the bed, weeping as he spoke, a truly pitiful sight. His father, Hai Taotian, scolded him for crying, insisting that a grown man shouldn’t weep over a beating and a few lost teeth.

“Doctor, there’s no serious injury, is there? Especially... down there?” Wu Yueling stepped aside, having understood the situation. Clearly, these scholars were causing trouble for trouble’s sake, judging the story before hearing it all.

“Princess, rest assured. It’s all superficial wounds; he’ll be on his feet in a couple of days.”

“Hai Yunxing, stay put for now—I’ll get your revenge! If they want to fight, let’s see them lose a few teeth!” With that, Wu Yueling stepped out to assemble her two thousand five hundred militiamen. Though they were newly trained, this was a perfect chance to deflate the scholars’ arrogance.

After giving instructions, she found Chief Zhang, who had only watched with amusement until now, but because of their partnership, had sent people to intervene.

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“Princess, I suspect the Qi family is involved. My men saw them leaving the closed Qi Family Tavern...”

“I see. Who is leading these scholars?” Wu Yueling asked Chief Zhang, who lounged about carelessly.

“I know this—he’s the master of the Imperial Academy. Stubborn, but respected. We should show some deference.”

“All right, tomorrow you point him out to me. I won’t strike him—no need to be accused of disrespecting teachers. As for the rest of these rotten scholars, whoever comes gets beaten!”

Zhang Heng cocked his head, watching the princess closely. There was not a trace of humor—she was truly angry. He blinked several times. “Really? They’re scholars. What if you hurt them? This isn’t...”

“Scholars? Don’t worry, I won’t go overboard. Smashing my tavern is one thing, but hurting my people is another. Anyone who comes tomorrow leaves without their front teeth! The Princess’s people are not so easily bullied!” Wu Yueling smiled, tapping the table with Zhang’s own words, making him shake his head and laugh.

Zhang Heng decided to simply watch tomorrow’s spectacle.

The next afternoon, at the Journey to the West Tavern in the West Market, Wu Yueling sat quietly on the third floor, sipping wheat ale from a bamboo cup, observing the scene below.

Yao Zi’ang was on stage as usual, performing with great skill, wearing a Sun Wukong mask that delighted the audience. Applause broke out in waves—a new trend. Whenever the story reached a climax, Wu Yueling had told him to cue the audience for applause, which Yao Zi’ang did, and soon everyone followed suit—clap, clap, clap.

Among the listeners, aside from poor folk who couldn’t afford much, were affluent families who came in droves, bringing relatives of all ages—from the eldest patriarchs to children just losing their baby teeth, all eager to hear the tale.

But the most devoted fans were three monks—one old, one grown, one young—who always sat at the front, chins in hand, waiting for the story and Yao Zi’ang’s performance as Sun Wukong. Wherever Yao Zi’ang performed, they would be there.

Don’t ask how they handled the night curfew— the old monk could carry the other two and leap over rooftops with ease, evading the patrols. After all, he was practically a grandmaster.

Cen Shen, newly arrived in Chang’an, had become obsessed with Journey to the West in just a few days. He’d started listening from the episode “Three Strikes at the White Bone Demon.” Having only heard bits and pieces before, he originally came to see Old Master He, but got so absorbed in the story that he took a room at the tavern opposite.

Sometimes he’d chat with the Hu merchant there, who would happily recount the story in detail, even waiving half Cen Shen’s lodging fee out of delight. After all, the merchant was now a shareholder in the Journey to the West Company—what was a little rent, compared to that status?

The incident with the scholars in the East Market had the merchant worried—he’d tried to find the princess but failed. He was anxious; since joining the Princess’s enterprise, profits had soared. How could the revenue stream be cut off?

Not long after, a commotion erupted outside the tavern. The lead scholar berated Yao Zi’ang on stage, calling him an agent of evil and launching a fierce attack. Song and Elder Yuan stood behind, watching the crowd’s reaction. This time, they’d brought many Manichean followers; smashing things was better left to the lower classes—scholars were “civilized,” after all.

Wang Liezhi, watching from afar, sneered. He and the Qi family had orchestrated this, eager to see how a self-styled hero would handle it.

At the sound, Wu Yueling asked Zhang Heng to identify the stern-faced man—Song—and the refined Elder Yuan beside him. She had no impression of either.

She strode out of the tavern with Hua Chuer and Manager Ding, sword at her waist, arms crossed, glaring at the young scholar who had hurled accusations. “I am the owner of this tavern. What grudge do you have against us? Or against me?”

“You’re just a woman—how could you understand the great principles? The stories you peddle here are corrupt, and we have come to cleanse this place for the sake of Heaven and earth!”

The scholar’s eyes were disdainful and arrogant, but before he could finish his pose, Hua Chuer sent him flying.

“How dare you act wild before my princess!”

Hua Chuer gathered her energy, landing a precise slap that sent the white-robed scholar spinning through the crowd, rolling several yards before stopping.

“Assault! They’re assaulting us! Elder Yuan, you must do something! That shrew dares attack us...!”

“Calm yourselves—help him up,” Elder Yuan said sternly, narrowing his eyes. He apologized to Song, then approached Wu Yueling. “Princess, I am well-read in all things, yet—”

At this, Elder Yuan, brimming with scholarly pride, looked to the sky, stroked his long beard, and shook his head. “Yet, I hope the Princess is wise enough to see reason—hand over the author and the original manuscript of Journey to the West, or else—”

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At this, he snorted and waved to the two hundred Manicheans in the crowd, who stepped forward menacingly. Many onlookers hurriedly withdrew from the conflict; the old and young monks dragged the meddlesome senior monk away as well.

“Or else, even if the Princess stands in our way, we will tear down this stage and level the tavern. In any case, we will not let this matter rest!” Elder Yuan politely cupped his hands to the young princess, smiling blandly.

Wu Yueling clapped, matching his bland smile. “Well said, well said! Listen, everyone! This old scholar not only spouts nonsense, but his words reek of sourness and jealousy—a real piece of work!”

“You—Princess! Forgive my bluntness, but a wise man adapts to the times! Surrender the demonic manuscript and the fiendish author!” Elder Yuan’s scholarly facade vanished; hunched and acrid, he waved his sleeve and jabbed a finger at Wu Yueling’s face. She was just a teenager, a vain show-off, and a woman—what was there to fear? Scholars have their pride too!

“I am the author of that book. I wrote Journey to the West. What, am I a fiend?”

“What? Princess, you—!” Elder Yuan looked appalled, shaking his head in disappointment.

Wu Yueling had no patience left. She grabbed Elder Yuan by the collar and threw him out, stunning the self-important scholars. To strike even the famous Elder Yuan of Chang’an?

“I heard it was you scholars who smashed my tavern and hurt people from the Princess’s residence. Do you think knowing a few more words gives you license to act like thugs? You’ve clearly never met real thugs! Nobody move!” Wu Yueling drew her sword, halting the two hundred Manicheans itching for a fight.

Some scholars and Manicheans hesitated—what if the princess was hurt? They could be exiled, or worse, executed.

Seeing their uncertainty, Wu Yueling signaled to the third-floor window, straightened her sleeves, sheathed her sword, and stepped aside to watch the show.

Elder Yuan was helped up by Song, groaning in pain. Song was furious. He had intended to stay out of it, as the princess was young and rumored to be capable of admitting mistakes. But now, seeing her brash and disrespectful, he had had enough.

“Princess, I am Master Song of the Imperial Academy—”

Song Jing never finished, for suddenly a rhythmic marching sound echoed down the street—one, two, three, four?

One, two, three, four! One, two, three, four!

A well-ordered column appeared on both sides of the street. Elder Yuan stared in disbelief—who were these people, each one brimming with confidence?

A group jogged up to the princess, hands at their ears in a triangular salute. Why were they not bowing?

“Reporting, Princess! Two thousand five hundred and eighty-three men, all present!”

“Good. Apart from Master Song—the grim-faced one—beat every Manichean with a stick and every white-robed scholar! Knock out all their teeth!”

“Yes!” Ma Daha relayed the order to the company commander, who passed it on to his men. “Apart from the sour-faced Master Song, the rest—beat them hard!”

Two black tides surged forth, overwhelming the Manicheans and white-robed scholars.

Wang Liezhi and Lord Qi, watching from afar, turned away, unable to witness the brutal spectacle—three hundred surrounded and thrashed by over two thousand, the crowd in chaos.

Cen Shen, leaning on his spear and watching from a distance, found the Princess truly fascinating. The sight stirred his blood.

This battle established the fearsome reputation of the Princess’s residence; from then on, no one dared make trouble. Yet among the scholars, prejudice against the Princess only grew.

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