A Pawn's Passage

Whether Qi Xuansu was truly an evil person was still debatable, but he was certainly not a good person.

Qi Xuansu had never provoked anyone, yet from his past experiences—from the Dragon and Tiger Camp at the Wanxiang Daoist Palace to the murder of his master—he suffered countless injustices.

Fengxian Hall and Beichen Hall did not give him justice, so he had to take justice into his own hands.

After going through all this, Qi Xuansu would have been a saint if he could still believe in so-called rules. That was why he killed Wan Xiuwu when he had the chance, instead of gathering evidence to convict him.

If it were not for the difficulties of committing murder in Taiping Inn, Qi Xuansu would not have let Yue Liuli off so easily either.

A person accustomed to survival regardless of cost could never truly believe in the ideals of the flowerbed Daoists. Even if circumstances forced him to comply, deep down, he never would agree with it.

Qi Xuansu was never like the Holy Xuan. He was a mere pawn, and everything he did stemmed from his own standpoint. Those who were kind to him were good, and those who wronged him were evil. This might be his limitation, but it was his experiences that shaped his beliefs.

In the real world, only the strong could survive. When Qi Xuansu faced injustice, he could only blame himself for being weak since the world was never fair; it had always been survival of the fittest.

If Qi Xuansu had been an Omniscient Sage, he would not have needed to kill Wan Xiuwu himself. He could simply give an order, and people would immediately start investigating, gathering witnesses and evidence from the past, and overturning the case according to the proper procedures. The culprit would be punished, and all those who had covered for him would be held accountable.

However, Qi Xuansu was not an Omniscient Sage. When he killed Wan Xiuwu, he was merely a seventh-rank Daoist priest who had faked his death. Even if he had knelt in front of Fengxian Hall for three days and nights, no one would have overturned the case for him, so he could only claim justice in his own way.

Simply put, those with power and influence seek procedural justice, while those without seek justice in results.

If someone without power insisted on procedural justice, they would be caught in endless bureaucracy for three to five years—each step strictly constrained, yet the final result would be nothing but silence.

This was why the common folk liked to praise vigilantes in stories.

From a Legalist perspective, being a vigilante was essentially extrajudicial punishment, which was an incorrect process. A vigilante had no authority to decide right and wrong because everyone had their own sense of justice.

But the reason common folk admired heroes was because they had no power, influence, or wealth to afford a litigator.

If Qi Xuansu had been born in Jade Capital and had grown up like the countless flowerbed Daoists in a sheltered environment, perhaps he would have wholeheartedly believed in the laws of the Daoist Order, treating them as sacred and immutable.

Unfortunately, the flowerbed had no place for him. He was merely a weed growing in the wilderness, doing everything he could just to survive.

Due to his own experiences, Qi Xuansu naturally harbored deep distrust toward laws and rules. So whenever he faced problems, he only trusted his own blade because justice was in the eye of the beholder.

A summer insect could not discuss ice because it had not experienced the cold. How could people from two different worlds ever share the same thoughts?

Ever since Qi Xuansu returned to the Daoist Order, he had long grown weary of these tedious formalities. If he possessed the same level of cultivation as Madam Qi, he would have chosen to be Wei Wugui rather than Qi Xuansu.

As for Zhang Yuelu, there were probably only a few who would consider her a good person in the traditional sense. Of course, Qi Xuansu saw her through rose-colored glasses, so to him, she was always a saint.

Many described Zhang Yuelu as difficult to get along with, shrewd, highly capable, bold in taking responsibility, and willing to act. Some even labeled her as radical and extreme. However, no one would ever use words like “impartial” or “strictly just” to describe her.

Zhang Yuelu had admitted more than once that she had personal ambitions. Though she never coveted wealth, she was well aware that her subordinate, Sun Yongfeng, had many sources of undisclosed income. Yet she tacitly allowed it.

After all, no fish could survive in waters that were too clear. Zhang Yuelu wanted loyal and trusted subordinates, so there was no way she could afford to be a flawless moral paragon.

Qi Xuansu often said that Zhang Yuelu’s heart was pure, but she denied it outright time and time again. Perhaps compared to Qi Xuansu, she could be considered pure, but she knew full well that her ideals were not those of the Holy Xuan.

Zhang Yuelu only spoke of reforming the Daoist Order, not saving the world.

She knew the limit of her abilities, that she could not pacify the world, nor usher in a golden era of peace.

Her idea of reforming the Daoist Order only meant resolving conflicts and redistributing power.

Even Situ Xingluan had once described Zhang Yuelu as a young radical, an advocate of reform.

Reform would inevitably threaten people’s vested interests. Since cutting off someone’s source of income was akin to killing their parents, reform was a life-or-death struggle. How could it possibly be done by simply following the rules?

Zhang Yuelu aimed to be a controversial yet powerful figure, not a moral saint. This was the limitation of her background. She had never experienced the struggles of the lower classes and had only witnessed the evils of the upper echelons.

Yet it was her experiences that solidified her beliefs. The two major Jiangnan cases both ended in deadlock, making her realize a fundamental truth—procedure was merely a tool. It had nothing to do with right or wrong, or justice. It was merely a process of power struggles, and there was no need to dress it up with noble ideals.

Both Jiangnan cases were thoroughly documented, flawless in procedure, without a single technical error. But what was the result? The masterminds behind them remained at large, while corruption only deepened.

Many argued against the idea that the victor could define justice, yet they could not deny that this was often the reality.

Simply put, procedural justice was just a philosophical debate.

In her early years, Zhang Yuelu believed in it. She only stopped believing in it because she suddenly realized that all cases invoking procedural justice only involved the powerful and privileged.

She had never heard of an eighth-rank Daoist priest receiving justice through procedural fairness. Only second-rank Taiyi Daoist masters frequently used bureaucracy to acquit themselves of crimes.

Those constantly advocating procedural justice while dismissing justice in results always seemed to be those well-versed in law.

Zhang Yuelu had read through the criminal records from the Criminal Justice Division. What she saw was that 99% of the accused were poor, and 80% could not afford a legal advocate. For the same crime, the presence or absence of a litigator meant the difference between life and death.

Since the poor could not afford litigators, they could not find loopholes in the law, so how was this so-called justice demonstrated in this sense?

Whether one chose procedural justice or justice in results, in the end, it was always the powerful and privileged who obtained so-called “justice.” What difference did it really make?

With power, status, and wealth, one could pursue procedural justice. Without them, one had to fend for themselves.

At its core, there was still no real difference. Perhaps there was some progress, but it was far from worthy of true justice.

Zhang Yuelu did not oppose this Legalist ideology, nor did she seek to uphold it as an unquestionable doctrine. She merely saw it as a tool rather than a principle.

In fact, when she chose to help Qi Xuansu, she cleverly exploited procedural correctness. According to the rules, if Shangguan Jing’s case needed to be reopened, it first had to be approved by the Golden Tower Council before the records could be accessed at Beichen Hall, thus completely cutting off Wuxu Palace’s escape route.

To her, since all laws and rules ultimately depended on human judgment and enforcement, they could not be separated from human will. Thus, procedural justice and justice in results had no fundamental difference. Instead, she believed they should coexist.

When applied, each case should be treated on its own merits. The Daoist Order should not fall into the rigid mold of Legalism, where legal codes became immutable, nor should legal advocates become a hieratic class with the sole authority to interpret those texts. The Daoist Order should be separate from Legalism.

Zhang Yuelu’s perspective might not necessarily be correct, but within the Daoist Order, it was certainly not wrong. The Daoist Order was not the same as the Great Xuan Imperial Court, so they did not directly govern the common folk.

Even the lowest-ranking Daoist priest was still a Daoist. Vigilantes were the only group who had the ability to defy authority with their strength. They could not be placated simply with food and shelter because their needs went far beyond that. If they could not be convinced, then there would be more people like Qi Xuansu.

If one tried to govern the Daoist Order the same way one ruled over the common folk, serious problems would arise. The common people would never rebel unless they had no means of survival. They were also accustomed to suffering.

However, Daoists were different. Those who wielded weapons would naturally develop a will to kill. The Eight Tribes defected from the Daoist Order merely due to ideological differences. If internal conflicts within the major Daoist sects continued to intensify, there was no guarantee that lower-ranking Daoists would not rise up against their superiors, even if those superiors included Immortals.

Immortals possessed great power. They could overturn Yunjin Mountain and execute the deposed Heavenly Preceptor like Zhang Jingchen. However, they could never completely eradicate the sheer number of lower-ranking Daoists who formed the very foundation of the Daoist Order.