Chapter 3: A Spark of Fire

Chapter 3: A Spark of Fire

Qin Yuan stepped into a prison cell that was anything but clean. His foot accidentally bumped into a grimy bowl containing unfinished porridge, now congealed into lumps, blackened and repulsive to the eye.

He carefully stepped around it and stopped five feet away from Tan Zhuangfei. He merely looked at him without speaking.

Tan Zhuangfei slowly opened his eyes, gazing for a moment before recognizing Qin Yuan. Weakly, he asked, "Is there something else, historian?"

"Today, I met with General Wei and asked him several questions. I need to verify some details with you here," Qin Yuan replied.

As soon as he finished, Tan Zhuangfei seemed to come alive, sitting upright in his gaunt frame with an agitated expression.

Clenching his teeth, he cursed, "Wei Ting, that treacherous dog, betrayed the emperor and ruined the reforms..."

Qin Yuan posed a question, but Tan Zhuangfei refused to answer, continuing to curse Wei Ting relentlessly.

Frowning, Qin Yuan inwardly admired Tan Zhuangfei’s spirit, but found the reform methods far too crude.

At the end of the dynasty, top-down reforms were doomed from the start; rather than easing the suffering of the poor, they directly weakened the interests of the upper class. It was already a death sentence, and attempting a coup to seize the most powerful person was madness. Wei Ting was insane to ally with them.

After a while, Tan Zhuangfei finally quieted down.

Qin Yuan quickly recounted his conversation with Wei Ting.

"Did he say anything different from what you know?"

"No."

Tan Zhuangfei's throat was hoarse from dryness.

Qin Yuan took out a water pouch and carefully gave him some water.

After a moment:

"Are you sure?"

Qin Yuan secretly hoped Tan Zhuangfei might have set Wei Ting up.

"I... I'm sure," Tan Zhuangfei said, his voice noticeably less hoarse.

That was an honest man—no underhanded tricks.

That’s why his fate was so tragic.

In any world, it’s always the honest who suffer.

"Farewell."

"Mm."

Qin Yuan glanced at him one last time, then left the cell, heading toward another farther away.

On the way back from Jin City, he had discovered from the note Shao Guilin gave him that another person to record today was Lin Yidong—an even more radical reformist than Tan Zhuangfei, one who had outright rebelled.

A few dozen warriors dared to attack the heavily guarded provincial governor’s mansion in Yuezhou.

Before coming, Qin Yuan had researched Lin Yidong. He had been adopted by his uncle, a scholar who hoped Lin would excel in the imperial exams and become an official.

But at his first exam, Lin wrote on his paper, "A youth does not aspire to be a marquis," and refused to follow the path of the imperial exams thereafter.

Later, he somehow mastered formidable martial arts and threw himself into rebellion.

Fortunately, Dahun’s control over the provinces was currently very weak.

Even if he used an alias, his uncle’s entire family would surely be doomed because of him.

The door to the cell creaked open.

Qin Yuan saw Lin Yidong lying on the ground, his collarbone chained and locked.

His punishment was much harsher than Tan Zhuangfei’s.

Perhaps because of his martial prowess.

Or perhaps because he did not have a father who was a governor.

"I am a recorder from the Left Historical Institute, responsible for documenting words and deeds," Qin Yuan said.

The eyes of Lin Yidong, now glimmering with a spark, tried to sit up.

But his injuries were too severe; he failed.

Qin Yuan approached to help but was pushed away.

After several attempts, Lin finally sat up, eyes wide, staring straight at Qin Yuan. Blood trickled down his forehead. His expression was cold as he said, "Are you brave enough to record everything I say?"

"I am a historian. It is my duty. No bravery involved," Qin Yuan replied calmly.

That said, there were some things Qin Yuan certainly wouldn’t dare record carelessly.

"Bring me a chair; I want to sit while I speak."

He panted slightly.

Qin Yuan waved his hand; the guards brought in a table and chairs.

Lin Yidong struggled to rise several times, failing each time. Qin Yuan went to support him but was pushed away repeatedly. After several attempts, Lin no longer resisted.

As he finally sat down, blood flowed down his trousers, dripping steadily.

"Ask away."

He lifted his chin like a judge.

So young, so full of vigor.

He embodied the rare heroic spirit and youthful vitality of this era.

Just one look inspired affection.

"You are well-built, from a good family. Why," Qin Yuan paused, "rebel?"

"Dahun’s decline is irredeemable. Today, they cede territory; tomorrow, they pay tribute. The nobles and officials are conservative and stagnant. The common people are ignorant. If we do not rebel, does Dahun still have hope?" Lin Yidong spoke passionately.

He was a selfless, fiery youth.

"There are rumors you took funds from the Eastern Sea Kingdom," Qin Yuan asked.

The Eastern Sea Kingdom lay east of Dahun and had suffered under Dahun’s oppression. Recently, amid Dahun’s chaos, they frequently raided coastal areas.

"We took it," he admitted without hesitation, then smiled bitterly. "Of course, we know the tricks of the Eastern Sea Kingdom. They will regret it in the future."

Confidence radiated from him.

Qin Yuan couldn’t help but ask, "Do you truly believe those behind you can do better?"

As someone from a later era, Qin had seen too much corruption and deceit.

Lin Yidong smiled brightly, lifting his chin higher, even more confident: "If they fail, a new generation will rise to overthrow them.

As long as generation succeeds generation, those who feast on the people will be forced to retreat."

The chains clinked with his fervor.

In this moment, he seemed like a pure deity come to earth.

Qin Yuan was silent for a long time before continuing, "Some ministers want to spare your life."

This was no idle talk.

Some of Lin Yidong’s positions were shared silently by many ministers.

Of course, more ministers wanted him dead, as most lacked the ability to solve the problems.

"No need," Lin Yidong said resolutely.

As if death meant nothing to him.

"Think carefully. If you die, everything is gone."

"Everyone dies eventually—either with weight like a mountain or light as a feather."

Another Tan Zhuangfei.

Another fool willing to burn himself to light Dahun.

This era had many such fools.

Yet it was precisely because of these fools that great causes came to be.

"You remind me of someone."

"Who?"

"Tan Zhuangfei."

"I am not on his path."

The right wing united, the left continually fragmented. This scene was the perfect example.

"I didn’t expect to live long anyway."

"Why?"

Qin Yuan was puzzled.

Generally, warriors lived much longer than ordinary people.

The dynasty had even produced a Taoist who lived nearly two centuries.

Lin Yidong spoke slowly.

Ten years ago, still a youth, he traveled overseas seeking immortals and unexpectedly discovered the tomb of a strange man.

He found two martial arts manuals—one unnamed, and one called the Vajra Indestructible Skill.

The odd man left a message: the Vajra Indestructible Skill was discovered in a cave and was likely not meant for mortals. Forcing oneself to master it would reduce lifespan by ten years each time one transformed. Only those with deep hatred or great destiny should attempt it.

Already determined to overthrow Dahun, Lin chose the Vajra Indestructible Skill and spent ten years learning it. Few below grandmaster level could match him.

Including the recent uprising, he had transformed five times—losing fifty years of his life.

(End of chapter)