Chapter 89: The Sword of Benevolence

Li Dongyang smiled again. “That’s why throughout history, people seek swords yet also guard against them. But this sword named Fang Jifan is quite interesting. He serves the Crown Prince, yet there’s no worry he would harm his master.”

Emperor Hongzhi raised his eyes and looked at Li Dongyang in disbelief. “I’d like to hear the details.”

Li Dongyang spoke calmly. “This young man is exceptionally talented, not comparable to ordinary Confucian Scholars. Your Majesty and the Crown Prince can utilize him fully without suspicion. In this world, the most dangerous swords are those like Wang Mang—greatly talented and widely praised. How could someone like Fang Jifan… possibly harm his master?”

Emperor Hongzhi was stunned.

Finally, he understood what Li Dongyang meant.

Indeed, rulers crave talented individuals to help govern and achieve Pacification of the World. Yet eventually, when such individuals gain increasing prestige and power, there’s potential for betrayal. Like Wang Mang, trusted as a relative by marriage, immensely knowledgeable, and acclaimed throughout The World, which led to his usurpation of the Han dynasty.

As for Fang Jifan… not only did he suffer from a Brain Illness, but recently many had impeached him, listing his various misdeeds. If someone like that gained power in the future, harboring ambitions to rebel… well… would anyone follow him? Or even if a few foolish ones did, what about everyone else?

Emperor Hongzhi couldn’t help but laugh heartily. “Minister Li’s perspective is truly unique.”

Outside, the sound of Firecrackers approached from afar.

Emperor Hongzhi made no further comment, his feelings about Li Dongyang’s view unclear beyond the laugh. He simply said, “The twelfth year of Hongzhi is about to begin…”

“Yes, Your Majesty, the twelfth year of Hongzhi is about to begin.”

…

The Fang Family was unusually lively today.

Not only were the servants dressed in new clothes, but dozens of guests had arrived, all seated in the hall, personally attended by Manager Yang.

This was a long-standing tradition of the Fang Family. Every year at this time, Fang Jinglong invited old comrades from the camp. These comrades were ordinary Military Households. Some had followed Fang Jinglong and earned merit but remained low-ranking veterans, unmarried and destitute. Others were former personal guards Fang Jinglong had trained—some missing arms, some with lame legs. Their demeanor differed from ordinary folks; though they smiled and greeted Fang Jifan warmly, some pinched his cheeks, others patted his head, gathering around to appraise him. “The Young Lord has truly grown up.”

“Just that his skin is too tender.”

“Yes, yes, rougher would be better, rougher would be better.”

“His bones seem a bit light; he probably can’t draw a bow.”

Some, perhaps due to lower status, hurriedly bowed to Fang Jifan. “Greetings, Young Lord.”

Though their appearances and behaviors varied, most shared a common trait—their smiling eyes seemed to gleam with a certain sharpness.

Fang Jifan respected these men. He had heard from Manager Yang about them, like Old Liu, missing an arm, whom his father called Old Liu. During a bandit suppression, an arrow shot toward Fang Jinglong, and Old Liu, then his personal guard, swiftly blocked it, resulting in lifelong disability.

Many had similar stories. Fang Jifan hesitated, wondering if he should greet them properly or pretend to still be the wastrel, acting fierce and intimidating.

But in that moment of hesitation, Deng Jian darted over, smiling obsequiously. “This humble one greets all you military gentlemen.”

Fang Jifan froze. Since when was Deng Jian so polite to anyone?

In his daze, Deng Jian secretly winked at Fang Jifan.

Suddenly, Fang Jifan had an epiphany. So the original wastrel knew to treat people differently based on their status. Perhaps he thought these uncles were not to be trifled with, so… damn it, that guy… wasn’t stupid after all.

Fang Jifan hesitated no longer, obediently cupping his hands in salute. “Greetings, uncles.”

“Haha…” they all laughed. “So polite now, such a good boy. The rumors outside say you… well… of course, it’s all misinformation. I don’t believe those bastards slandering the Fang Family. When I get back, I’ll take my blade and chop them up to feed the dogs!”

“…” Fang Jifan’s expression stiffened. They really were ‘unrestrained and bold.’ No wonder the former wastrel acted like a quail around them.

After meeting the uncles, the whole family had New Year’s Eve dinner. The mansion was lit with countless lanterns, decorated festively. Young servants peeked into the main hall, eagerly awaiting the Young Lord to set off fireworks.

Fang Jifan bowed to the table of uncles. “This junior will go set off fireworks.”

The uncles were mostly drunk, vividly recounting their past exploits of cutting people down, like ghost stories that made Fang Jifan’s hair stand on end.

Fang Jingling, half-drunk, swayed and rambled repeatedly. “So happy, truly happy… Let me tell you, I raised my son well… Go out and ask around… ask… our family’s ancestral graves are well placed, auspicious land. You know, a few days ago, I, Old Fang, went to pay respects, and from afar, I saw mist seemingly rising from the ancestral graves… Jifan, Jifan, show your Golden Belt to the uncles. Oh, going to set off fireworks? I’ll go too.”

Swaying, supported by others, he followed out.

Fang Jifan had some excited young servants carry out the fireworks.

Seeing the firework box as big as half a chest, many gasped in awe.

The Great Ming already had fireworks, but… most were small and weak, nothing compared to Fang Jifan’s specially made ones.

Fang Jifan stood with arms akimbo, laughing heartily. “Today, I’ll make the Capital lose its color.”

Fang Jinglong curiously approached, looking at the fireworks. His drunkenness sobered up significantly. He couldn’t help saying, “Jifan, nothing will go wrong, right? Why does my right eye keep twitching?”

“…”

Fang Jifan said, “Everyone, step back, step back. Little Deng Deng.”

Deng Jian grinned. “This humble one is here.”

“Go light the fuse.”

“Oh…”

Deng Jian blew on the Igniter Stick, chuckling as he stepped forward. He glanced back and saw that the large crowd that had been surrounding him had vanished, hiding away. Even Fang Jinglong had staggered back several dozen feet, and… Young Lord… Young Lord, why are you so far away? Why are you lying down?

Deng Jian’s legs began to tremble, losing confidence as he shouted to Fang Jifan, “Young Lord, nothing will happen, right?”

“No, no, light the fuse quickly!” Fang Jifan shouted back. Seemingly still uneasy, Fang Jifan retreated another few dozen steps, stopping behind a large locust tree in the courtyard. He hid behind it, peeking out with half his head. “Hurry up! It’s very safe, I guarantee it with my character!”

Deng Jian suddenly felt like crying. “But Young Lord, I’m a bit scared.”

“Don’t be afraid!” Fang Jifan encouraged him. “You won’t die!”

“Oh!” Deng Jian had no choice but to tremulously crouch, butt in the air, but his hand shook, barely holding the Igniter Stick. Finally aligning it with the fuse, a sizzling sound erupted, sparks flying. Deng Jian fled madly. Behind him, a tremendous boom sounded, shaking all the doors and windows of the Fang Family.