Chapter 48: Striking the Dengwen Drum! Petitioning the Heavens!

In the sky, thunder rumbled continuously like the roar of an ancient primeval beast. That deafening sound felt as though the heavens were finally unleashing a wrath they had harbored for a long time.

The sky, which had originally resembled a clear blue satin ribbon, was now densely covered with dark clouds. Those gloomy clouds looked like dark forces surging from the netherworld, piling together like a heavy slab of lead, pressing down oppressively upon people's hearts.

It made everyone beneath feel a sense of difficulty in breathing, as if an invisible, massive hand were tightly gripping their throats, leaving them gasping for air.

The entire air was permeated with a unique scent—the distinct fragrance of approaching rain.

Damp moisture twined like fine spider silk through every inch of the air, carrying a faint chill that felt as though the winter wind had penetrated early, seeming to foreshadow an unusual storm about to sweep across the land.

Song Jingshu lay quietly on Lu Jingshu's back like an injured little bird. Her eyes held a bewildered daze, resembling a small deer that had lost its direction in a dark fog, and she said not a word.

Time seemed to freeze at this moment, as if everything around her had been pressed onto a pause button. Only Lu Jingshu's steady footsteps echoed alone in this dead silence.

Every single one of those footsteps sounded like drumbeats striking a person's heart, carrying an inexplicable firmness.

After a long while, Song Jingshu seemed to struggle out of a deep nightmare. Gathering immense courage, her lips trembling slightly, she slowly opened her mouth to ask a question.

"My lord, did I bring disaster upon you?"

Lu Jingshu did not hesitate in the slightest. His gaze was as steadfast as the brightest star in the night sky as he continued walking forward. His stride was firm and powerful, every step landing solidly and steadily, as though he were carving out a path of justice amidst this chaotic world.

He answered earnestly, "Rest assured, you did not! There has always been justice in this world. Everything I do is for the righteousness in my heart, and it has nothing to do with you."

Song Jingshu nodded gently. A flicker of hope flashed in her eyes, a light resembling a tiny, stubborn flame kindled in the darkness, weak yet resilient.

She asked again, "My lord, what is your name? I wish to remember it."

"Lu Jingshu," he replied concisely, his voice deep and magnetic.

"Just call me Brother Lu. Consider me your elder brother."

"Thank you, Brother Lu," Song Jingshu said with gratitude. A trace of choked emotion lingered in her voice, as if she had found a warm harbor in this cold world.

The Dengwen Drum held a special significance in the hearts of the common people. It stood like a sturdy bridge connecting the sufferings of the folk to the fairness of the imperial court, bearing countless grievances and a deep yearning for fairness and justice.

Its solemn and majestic appearance seemed to silently recount countless grievances and hopes. Every texture resembled a trace carved by the passage of time, witnessing countless sorrows and joys of parting and reunion.

In reality, in the eyes of many, this was merely a pie in the sky painted for the impoverished masses by the lords and nobles.

Regardless of the truth, the Dengwen Drum remained the people's last shred of hope.

Normally, such matters were first reported to departments acting as the central nervous system of the imperial court, such as the Secretariat and the Offices of the Left and Right Chancellors, for them to sort through and judge.

Only when a matter was of grave importance would it be handed over to the emperor for personal trial, like opening the final door of judgment, allowing supreme imperial authority to adjudicate right and wrong in this world.

Today, the long-deserted Outer Courts welcomed visitors once more.

Lu Jingshu carefully placed Song Jingshu beneath the eaves of the grand hall with exceptionally gentle movements. Once she was settled, he stood up straight, his expression turning stern like a warrior about to march into battle. He rolled up the cuffs of his flying-fish robe, revealing his powerfully sculpted arms with well-defined muscle lines.

Veins bulged on those arms, seemingly brimming with boundless strength.

He selected the two largest mallets from among the many drumsticks, gripping them as if grasping righteousness itself.

Drawing a deep breath that was as vast as a dragon drinking water, he swung the two mallets down with force.

The rhythmic pounding of the drum—*thud, thud, thud*—rolled on like surging waves, wave after wave rising continuously. The sound was deafening, resembling a galloping army of thousands, drowning out even the thunder in the sky as if striving to rival the heavens themselves.

A flash of lightning tore across the sky like a sharp sword.

The glare instantly illuminated the dim world, and immediately afterward, a pattering rain began to fall. The raindrops struck the ground, splashing into tiny water flowers that were as brief and beautiful as blossoms opening and withering.

Then, the rain grew heavier. The raindrops, the size of soybeans, poured down densely like a massive water curtain hanging from the sky, enveloping the entire world in a watery domain.

Lu Jingshu stood in the rain, resembling an ancient and solemn statue. The rain beat against his body, streaming down his cheeks.

Yet he remained unmoved, his mallets continuing to strike the Dengwen Drum without a moment's pause. The drumbeats carried Song Jingshu's inner anger, grievances, and perseverance.

It was as though he were accusing the heavens and earth of all this injustice, every beat sounding like a defiant cry shouted at a ruthless world.

The Right Gate Guard on duty had been sitting quietly inside the room. Listening to the continuous rumbling outside, he had initially mistaken it for peculiar thunder, a mere part of the severe weather.

However, as he listened longer, he sensed something was amiss. The rhythm and volume of the sound were distinctly different from thunder; thunder was chaotic roaring, whereas this drumbeat possessed a unique cadence, as though someone were rhythmically voicing a grievance.

He sprang to his feet, tension tightening his features like a startled rabbit, and strode quickly out the door. There, amidst the pouring rain, he saw someone relentlessly beating the Dengwen Drum.

That scarlet flying-fish robe stood out remarkably in the torrential rain, looking like a burning flame in the darkness, radiating dazzling light through the gray, misty curtain of rain.

Realizing that someone was drumming—and a brocaded guard at that—the Right Gate Guard instantly felt that things had taken a massive turn for the worse!

What were the Brocaded Guards? They were the emperor's personal guards!

They were the sovereign's confidants, wielding immense power like a sharp blade of the imperial court. Usually imposing and formidable, wherever they went commanded awe.

Now, such a Brocaded Guard had personally come to beat the Dengwen Drum; the grievance behind this must be earth-shattering. An inexplicable dread surged into his heart.

Not daring to show the slightest negligence, the Right Gate Guard hurriedly grabbed an umbrella—which appeared rather fragile against the fierce wind and rain—and lifted his official robes, trudging laboriously through the mud to Lu Jingshu's side.

At this moment, the roar of the rain was deafening, the drops relentlessly pelting Lu Jingshu's face and merging into streams that ran down. His face was long since soaked through by the rain, but his gaze remained resolute.

The Right Gate Guard could only shout at the top of his lungs: "My lord of the Brocaded Guards! Since you beat the Dengwen Drum, you must harbor a grievance as vast as the heavens! Please enter the estate to speak, and this subordinate will faithfully report your grievances to the Secretariat!"

Lu Jingshu remained unmoved, his gaze as steadfast as a rock.

Striking the drum, he roared back forcefully: "Tell them to report it directly! This is a matter of utmost urgency, and I demand an audience with His Majesty today!"

His voice echoed through the rain, carrying unquestionable majesty and determination, as though it would pierce the rain curtain and reach straight into the imperial court.

"Just report this: Lu Jingshu, Commander of the Northern Bureau of Security's Brocaded Guards, requests an audience with His Majesty!"

Every single word he uttered struck the Right Gate Guard's heart like a heavy hammer.

Seeing Lu Jingshu's unyielding stance, the Right Gate Guard knew he could not stop him, nor did he wish to entangle himself further.

He knew clearly that a petty official of his low rank had no business meddling in such a matter. It was like a bottomless, murky pool; one misstep could invite disaster and plunge him into eternal damnation.

Therefore, he hurried back into the estate, his steps panicked and hasty, shouting loudly for attendants as he walked. His anxious voice echoed through the mansion, filled with unease and tension.

The Outer Courts, usually so tranquil day and night, suddenly plunged into a bustling uproar.