Chapter 160: Puppet

The cell was gloomy and filled with the oppressive aura of a maximum-security ward. Measuring barely ten feet square, three of its walls were forged of solid iron, while the fourth consisted of water-logged fir-wood bars spaced just wide enough for an arm to reach through. The floor was carelessly strewn with a layer of straw that had clearly not been replaced in ages; it had long since turned moldy, blackened, and begun to rot, exuding a heavy, stale stench mingled with the foul odor of human waste. Combined, the smell was so potent that an ordinary person would likely have vomited on the spot.

Nie Zhiyuan lay upon this rotting straw, his back half-leaning against the freezing iron wall. His hair was disheveled, and heavy iron chains bound his hands and feet. His plain prisoner's robe, once white, was now streaked with black grime and stained with patches of dried blood, making him look utterly ragged and unkempt. Yet these were things he no longer had the capacity to care about. From his legs—savagely tortured just that very day—unremitting waves of bone-deep agony surged without a moment's respite.

This pain was so intense and relentless that it felt infinite. Like a rising tide, it submerged his entire body and mind, making even sleep an impossible luxury.

The urge to sleep was devoured by the torment, leaving behind only a numb shell of a body lying powerlessly on the ground, incapable of moving even a single finger.

Right there in the lower gap of the wooden bars sat a bowl of rice.

To call it rice was a stretch, for the grains inside were several shades darker than the chipped bowl holding them, sparsely topped with a few withered, yellowed greens. Even this meager fare was a special privilege granted by higher authorities, and it had been delivered promptly at dusk. But given his current condition, how could Nie Zhiyuan possibly crawl over to eat? Nor did he have the slightest appetite; the tidal wave of pain had choked his throat, making it difficult even to swallow a single drop of water.

Because he touched nothing, the bowl of rice remained exactly as it had been left, attracting a pair of unusually large rats. Each was the size of a fist, their slick, glossy fur testifying to a very comfortable life within the prison walls. Skillfully darting out from a dark corner, they approached the broken bowl and began to gorge themselves without a shred of fear or hesitation.

To the two rats, Nie Zhiyuan was no different from a corpse.

Ah...

A long sigh forced its way past Nie Zhiyuan's cracked lips, echoing within the narrow, suffocating confines of the cell, yet the two rats burying their snouts in the food did not even lift their heads.

Accompanying the sigh, two turbid trails of tears welled up and slowly trickled down the corners of his eyes. Falsely accused, his emotions had run the gamut: from initial indignation to subsequent confusion, and finally to a profound, hollow bitterness. This relentless shift in state of mind had drained Nie Zhiyuan of all remaining vitality. Perhaps his sole remaining hope was that in five days he would be placed in a prisoner carriage and escorted to the capital for a joint tribunal by the three chief judicial agencies.

The capital.

Only upon reaching the capital would Nie Zhiyuan stand a chance of clearing his name.

The memory of the sudden catastrophe made his hair stand on end with rage: those adversaries seated high in the halls of power clearly had no intention of letting him draw breath much longer!

Plunging into officialdom was as perilous as navigating an endless sea; high winds and towering waves shifted unpredictably, capable of capsizing a vessel and destroying lives at any moment...

Nie Zhiyuan was not afraid to die, but dying under such an unjust and aggrieved cloud was not an outcome he was willing to accept. In truth, he had long since resolved that upon reaching the capital, he would seek an audience with the Emperor. He would dash his head against the pillars or the stone steps before the throne, offering his death as a testament to his loyalty and a final appeal to the sovereign to prove his innocence... Perhaps the only lingering attachment in his heart was his daughter, Xiaoqian.

"Xiaoqian, where are you now?"

Calculated by days, it had been ten full weeks—no, ten full days since his daughter had last come to visit him. Or perhaps the guards outside simply refused to let Nie Xiaoqian enter at all...

Squeak! Squeak!

The two plump rats, previously engrossed in their feast, suddenly seemed to sense something. They lifted their heads from the rice bowl, their tiny bead-like eyes flashing with panic. The next instant, with a swift dash, they turned tail and bolted, scurrying rapidly back into their hole in the corner.

The abnormal behavior of the rats failed to draw Nie Zhiyuan's attention; his eyes were half-closed as he struggled once more to drift into sleep. But suddenly, his already leaden eyelids flew wide open, stretched as if he were witnessing something utterly unbelievable.

What he saw was a small fox with fur as white as snow.

A tiny fox had appeared silently in the corridor outside.

How was this possible?

In the dead of night, a white fox had somehow materialized inside the prison. Its form was small, agile, and brimming with ethereal grace. Ignoring the sturdy, unyielding fir-wood bars, it slipped through them as if boneless, stepping straight into the cell—

Could it be that the pain had driven him mad, inducing hallucinations?

Nie Zhiyuan was struck dumb with shock. His hands, previously too weak to move, suddenly found strength; he hurriedly raised them to rub his eyes and looked again. There was no white fox to be seen; instead, a picturesque young maiden stood right before him, looking at him with a gentle smile.

She appeared to be no more than fourteen or fifteen years old, roughly the same age as his daughter. Unmatched in her delicate charm, her nose twitched slightly whenever she smiled, reminiscent of a spring breeze rippling across a pond—a blend of mischievousness and cuteness, as if all the spiritual essence of heaven and earth had converged upon her alone.

"You—who are you..."

A tempest of doubt surged in Nie Zhiyuan's heart as he asked in astonishment.

"This young maiden is called Yingning."

"Yingning?"

Nie Zhiyuan chewed over the two names repeatedly, yet he could not recall ever hearing them before. Or perhaps he had simply never heard of them at all.

Suddenly, Yingning bent down, pulled two relatively intact blades of straw from the floor, and her slender fingers danced through the air with astonishing speed. In moments, she wove the straw into the shape of a tiny figurine complete with a head, face, and all four limbs, looking rather whimsical. Then, quietly murmuring an incantation, she extended her right index finger, tapped the straw figurine upon its head, and handed it forward. "Lord Nie, this is a puppet. If you keep it on your person, it will help you ward off the pain of torture."

Nie Zhiyuan did not take it immediately; his voice suddenly sharpened. "Just who on earth are you?"

Yingning replied, "I am Yingning... Um, Lord Nie, you don't need to panic. I'm here to help you."

"Help me?"

"Yes."

Nie Zhiyuan suddenly let out a harsh laugh. "I know not who sent you or under whose orders you come, but pray return and tell your master this: I, Nie Zhiyuan, am loyal to heaven and earth, loyal to the Emperor, and loyal to the common people of the realm. To use such despicable tactics to test me and coerce a confession from me is nothing but wishful thinking!"

Yingning was taken aback. Before she could explain further, Nie Zhiyuan grabbed a handful of straw from the floor and hurled it blindly at her. "Hurry away with you, girl, and waste no time here! You are young and blessed with extraordinary beauty, yet why choose to walk the path of thieves?"

Yingning pouted slightly, feeling somewhat aggrieved that her good intentions had been so unjustly distorted. Why on earth would Lord Nie refuse to believe her?

As a vixen spirit, though well-read and acquainted with etiquette, she still lacked worldly experience and remained quite pure in her thinking. Or rather, she subconsciously wished to avoid complications, let alone allow herself to be complicated:

"Lord Nie, I really am here to help you. Um, if you could just tell me where Sister Xiaoqian is..."

Better off unsaid, but the moment those words left her mouth, Nie Zhiyuan's eyes widened in fury. With a sudden heave, he scrambled to his feet, pointing an accusing finger and cursing aloud:

"You little thief, you still dare to plot against Qian'er? Even if I didn't know, do you think I would fall for your trick and tell you? You traitorous scoundrels, harboring rebellious hearts and bewitching the Emperor—I'll fight you to the death!"

With that, he lunged forward like a madman.

Things had escalated far beyond anything Yingning could have anticipated. Flustered, she quickly muttered an incantation and pointed a finger through the air directly toward Nie Zhiyuan's forehead.

Nie Zhiyuan felt something burrowing straight into his mind. Immediately, the world began to spin as if he were dead drunk, his vision blackened, and he collapsed heavily onto the floor, plunging into a deep slumber.

"Lord Nie, I really am here to help you..."

Yingning muttered plaintively to herself.

However, extracting Nie Xiaoqian's whereabouts now proved impossible, for the commotion had already alerted the prison guards. Heavy footsteps thundered down the corridor, accompanied by a chorus of angry curses as they rushed toward the cell.

"Alas."

With a soft sigh, Yingning flicked her finger, propelling the straw puppet she held straight into the lapel of Nie Zhiyuan's outer garment, where it clung tightly. Then, employing her wall-passing art, she glided effortlessly through the barrier and vanished.

"Nie Zhiyuan, why aren't you sleeping in the middle of the night instead of howling like a ghost? You're disturbing my peace!"

Moments later, two guards dashed up to the cell and cursed viciously. "Do you feel like you weren't beaten enough during the day?"

Collapsed upon the ground, Nie Zhiyuan slowly blinked awake. He cast his gaze around, finding no sign of the strange and beautiful maiden, only the two fierce-looking guards.

"Hmph, since your skin is still itching, let this lord serve you another round!"

The two guards unlocked the cell door with a heavy key and charged in. Without a second thought, they set upon Nie Zhiyuan with a flurry of kicks and punches.

Though Nie Zhiyuan had once served as a prefect, wielding immense power and surrounded by glory, that was all in the past. Stripped of his official cap and reduced to a pathetic prisoner, he was, in the eyes of any prison guard, a target to be bullied at will. In fact, precisely because of his former official status, beating him brought them an even greater twisted satisfaction; strutting back outside, boasting "I once beat a former prefect," filled them with an inflated sense of swagger.

Such psychology was truly the basest trait of human nature.

Fist met flesh and boots slammed into his body, yet strangely enough, even though Nie Zhiyuan remained fully conscious, he felt not a shred of pain despite the storm of blows raining down upon him.

The sensation was utterly mystical, as though the guards were kicking not his actual body, but merely striking empty air.

What was going on here?

Nie Zhiyuan was filled with profound wonder. Could it be that his body had finally grown completely numb from the torment, losing all sensation entirely?

"Alright, alright, Third Brother, let's stop here before we accidentally beat him to death and make it hard to report to our superiors."

After venting for a while, the two guards finally ceased their assault. They dusted off their hands with smug satisfaction, locked the door behind them as they stepped out, and one of them turned back to bark a final warning at the motionless figure on the floor: "Nie Zhiyuan, if you dare raise a ruckus again, this lord will introduce you to the cudgel!"

With heavy, echoing strides, they departed.

Nie Zhiyuan lay on the ground, still wrapped in utter bewilderment: No pain... it really didn't hurt at all...