Chapter 1590 - Exposed

"Attention, students of Fangcaodi Academy..." The voice continued floating across the square. "All units, assemble by class facing the gymnasium gate. Line up from right to left. Each class, stand in formation and count off!"

As the command was broadcast, the scattered students throughout the square immediately began running toward the front of the gymnasium. Police started driving away ordinary naturalized citizens. A large open space cleared instantly at the gymnasium entrance.

"Junior Primary Year One, Class One—" A student took her position, raising one hand high while holding the other level.

"Junior Primary Year One, Class Two!"

"Junior Primary Year One, Class Three!"

...

"Senior Primary Year One, Class Four!"

...

With shouts rising one after another, students jogged to their respective class positions. In less than three minutes, more than ten queues of varying lengths had materialized at the gymnasium entrance. Though the students attending today hadn't been organized by their schools, and not all class monitors were present, they quickly assembled and lined up according to the organizational protocols drilled into them during daily formation training.

Zhou Zhongjun and Nan Wan'er were caught completely flat-footed, momentarily frozen by panic. Zhou Zhongjun recovered first. Seeing students around her rushing toward the gymnasium entrance, she called out urgently and ran along with them. The other female disciples with them followed instinctively.

"Why are you following!" Zhou Zhongjun hissed. "Scatter—quickly!"

But in that moment's hesitation, the Detective Team members and Political Security Bureau agents on covert duty in the square had already spotted this group of "female students." A detective signaled subtly, and five or six operatives converged and intercepted Zhou Zhongjun's group.

"Political Security Bureau!" The leader flashed his identification. "Show your IDs!"

Though the leader kept his weapon holstered, several agents around him had already drawn firearms. Five or six muskets of various lengths surrounded them.

"Didn't—didn't bring them!" Zhou Zhongjun's heart sank. Where would she get an ID? Sensing exposure was imminent, she secretly gripped the Emei dagger in her sleeve while feigning composure: "We came out to have fun today. Why would we bring IDs?"

"I see." The detective surveyed the others. "You don't have them either?"

Nan Wan'er and the rest could only shake their heads.

"Are you all students of Fangcaodi?"

Zhou Zhongjun knew she couldn't afford to panic now. She forced herself forward: "That's right! We're all from the Senior Primary section."

She'd overheard phrases moments earlier and deployed them in desperation.

The leader looked them over carefully, his gaze lingering on Nan Wan'er for an uncomfortably long moment. Then, quite politely: "Fellow students, since you claim to be from Fangcaodi, you should possess some basic knowledge." He gestured for Zhou Zhongjun to step forward.

Zhou Zhongjun smiled sweetly at the officer, steadying her nerves while covertly assessing her surroundings, preparing to strike at any moment.

The leader produced a small booklet from his satchel—the cover read "National Education and Science Popularization Question Bank"—flipped through a few pages at random, and read clearly: "What is three cubed? And how do you interpret the Senate's governing concept of 'Sole Representation'?"

Zhou Zhongjun had no idea. She gritted her teeth behind her smile: "I... I forgot..." Her fingers tightened on the Emei dagger.

"Hands up!" the officer barked. "Behind your head! On your knees!"

Zhou Zhongjun glanced sideways. The other female warriors were already surrounded by a ring of black muzzles. Nan Wan'er raised her hands high and slowly sank to her knees.

Zhou Zhongjun wanted to resist, but encircled by firearms, she'd lost all initiative. Acting rashly meant being blasted to pieces. She clenched her teeth, bitterness flooding her heart. She and her sisters had penetrated deep into this devil's lair, on the verge of striking and achieving eternal glory, only to be exposed so inexplicably... Reluctance, regret, and frustration churned together, and tears sprang to her eyes.

"Move it!" The leader gave her no time for self-pity. "Kneel! Hands behind your head!"

Zhou Zhongjun had no choice but to raise her hands. Just as she was about to kneel, a signal cannon boomed in the distance—once, then twice more in quick succession. Her heart leaped. The signal to attack! Could Martial Uncle Miejing and the others have already started?

The nearby crowd stirred restlessly. There's an opening! Just as she tensed to spring up, another sharp crack sounded. A baton struck her solidly across the back. She stumbled and pitched forward onto her knees.

"Stay down! Hands behind your head!" A black muzzle pressed against her skull. The scene she'd expected—attacks launching from all directions upon the signal cannon's report—hadn't materialized.

Zhou Zhongjun placed her hands behind her head, consumed by hatred. A man swaggered over and ran his hands down along her arms and ribs. She couldn't help but gasp, her body shuddering.

"Emei dagger!" The man yanked the weapon from her sleeve and tossed it to the ground, then fished a dagger from her waist. Zhou Zhongjun bit her lip and endured. But after finding the weapons, the man didn't stop. His hands traveled lower, actually groping her hips. This extraordinary humiliation nearly made Zhou Zhongjun faint.

After searching them all, they bound the group's hands tightly and linked them together with rope before escorting them away. Throughout the process, neither naturalized citizens nor indigenous people approached to gawk—watching from a safe distance only. Under Senate rule, watching excitement was dangerous business. Observing the police at work was particularly hazardous; getting struck by a baton or sprayed with pepper was light punishment. Getting shot was a genuine possibility.

At an intersection outside the stadium, more than ten martial experts led by Abbess Miejing stood ready. Unlike the others, they hadn't shaved their heads or changed their clothing—all were dressed as ordinary indigenous commoners.

Abbess Miejing stood by the street at that moment. After slipping out of the inn, she'd discarded her disguise and resumed her nun's attire—bamboo hat and monk's robes, prayer beads and alms bowl in hand, she'd transformed into a mendicant nun. Her sword was concealed within her walking stick.

The dozen or so companions were likewise dispersed along both sides of the street in various disguises. They stood ready to intercept and eliminate the Hair Thief reinforcements once the incident began.

This location wasn't far from the gymnasium. She could hear the loudspeaker broadcasts, though she couldn't comprehend their meaning. She only marveled silently: Who possesses such internal power as to project their voice so loudly from thin air? Could there be a hidden master here?

She worried about Zhou Zhongjun and the other disciples at the gymnasium, deeply concerned whether they could retreat safely after their strike. With her years of Jianghu experience, she understood that carving a bloody path out from under the noses of so many bandit soldiers and constables would inevitably cost many lives.

The thought filled her with secret anxiety. Mt. Heng's strength was modest to begin with. In recent years, the world had grown unstable—tenant farmers under the sect's protection fled in increasing numbers, rent collection grew ever more difficult, and various bandits (both private and official) constantly harassed the area. Their finances deteriorated daily. That was precisely why she'd accepted Stone Old Man's summons to come to Lingao—they desperately needed a powerful backer in the imperial court while easing their financial difficulties.

This expedition had deployed more than half of the sect's young and middle-aged disciples. If casualties proved too heavy and the sect's strength was severely diminished, maintaining their current standing in the martial arts world would become uncertain at best...

Suddenly, signal cannons boomed from the direction of the square. Miejing's heart quickened: It's starting!

But after the three signal blasts, another sharp explosion sounded. The gymnasium area hadn't descended into chaos—if fighting had broken out there, the square and surrounding streets would have erupted in pandemonium, with crowds fleeing in all directions. Yet everything remained calm.

Though the pedestrians on the street appeared somewhat unsettled, there was no mass panic. Some shopkeepers stood at their doors to observe; some people quickened their pace. But no one shuttered their shops or ran away.

"What's happening?" Miejing couldn't see the situation at the gymnasium, and no Hair Thief reinforcements had appeared here either. Momentarily, everyone was paralyzed by uncertainty. Should they draw their swords immediately and charge out to create chaos in support of Zhou Zhongjun and the others? Or continue waiting here to intercept reinforcements?

Her people across the street exchanged meaningful glances with her several times, clearly seeking guidance. Miejing's brow furrowed as she deliberated. Then someone addressed her from behind: "Venerable Nun!"

Miejing whirled around. A Hair Thief constable. Her heart clenched, and she quickly pressed her palms together: "This poor nun pays her respects."

The constable looked Miejing over: "You—your face is unfamiliar. Are you new to the area?"

Miejing responded promptly: "Yes, this poor nun arrived here not long ago."

"Do you have an ordination certificate?"

"This poor nun does not..." Miejing's manner remained calm. Ordination certificates were exceedingly rare in the Ming Dynasty. Thanks to Zhu Yuanzhang's extremely strict religious policies, most monks and nuns lacked them. Even in the Mt. Heng Sect, few nuns possessed proper documentation. Saying no shouldn't raise suspicion.

"Then do you have a local Religious Practitioner Registration Certificate?"

Miejing naturally had no idea what a "Religious Practitioner Registration Certificate" was. She assumed this thief constable was merely imitating his counterparts in the Ming Dynasty, looking for an excuse to extort money. She smiled apologetically: "This poor nun has newly arrived and doesn't know the local regulations. I hope Brother Constable might make an exception..." As she spoke, she crumpled a few circulation notes in her hand and attempted to press them into his.

"No, no," the officer rebuffed her completely. "Without a registration certificate, you're begging illegally. Come with me to the police station!"

Miejing hadn't expected this. In an instant, she couldn't determine whether such a rule actually existed or whether the man had already seen through her and was using a pretext to make an arrest.

Her nearby companions were likewise caught off guard. While they hesitated, the policeman's patience wore thin: "Come on, let's go." He started to reach for Miejing.

Miejing understood instantly: I'm carrying a long sword and hidden weapons—standard 'lethal weapons.' There's absolutely no way I can talk my way out once I enter their 'police station.' She let out a piercing whistle, struck the policeman with a backhanded palm, and drew the long sword concealed in her walking stick.