Chapter 27: Training the Villagers

Chapter 27 Training the Villagers

In the Dawn Country, many common folk toiled in the fields all year, yet rarely tasted white rice. Thanks to having once produced a prime minister, Zhao Family Village was considered relatively prosperous throughout Changxi County and even the entire prefecture. Still, over a dozen households lacked their own land, forced to work as hired hands.

Ah Wu had been a long-term laborer for Zhao Tongming’s family. But when the Zhao household moved to the capital to enjoy their newfound fortune, they naturally couldn't take him along. He’d resigned himself to starvation, but within a couple of days, Eldest Young Master Zhao’s steward, Uncle Hai, sought him out. Ah Wu was offered work digging clay at the kiln, with a monthly wage of a string of copper coins, plus three full meals a day. Exceeding the digging quota even earned him meat—either scrambled eggs with cracklings or a meaty bone. After more than a month, he had gained considerable strength, and his face had filled out.

Ah Wu fingered the string of coins tied to his waist, pondering whether to buy new clothes or save up for a couple of years to afford a wife.

He arrived early at the digging site as usual, but saw only a few workers digging clay for Eldest Young Master Zhao’s kiln. Not a single person from the village’s brick and tile kiln was present. Puzzled, he asked the long-faced man beside him, “Did Liu Biaozi and the others oversleep today? Why is no one here?”

The long-faced man swung his hoe, a hint of jealousy in his voice. “Eldest Young Master Zhao is teaching them martial arts. Too bad he only called the brick and tile kiln workers, not us.”

Ah Wu began filling baskets with soil, grumbling as he worked. “When they were dividing the money, we got nothing. Now they’re training in martial arts, and we’re left out again. We outsiders truly can’t compare.”

Another middle-aged digger, Uncle Li, shot Ah Wu and the long-faced man a displeased look. “Our families only sought refuge in Zhao Family Village in recent decades. It’s already generous of them to take us in. How can you expect to share their money and enjoy the same treatment? Dream on.”

He spat on the ground and continued digging, lecturing the restless young men nearby. “Think about the lives we used to live—working as hired hands for Zhao Tongming, or as temporary workers for villagers and townsfolk. We were lucky to get two substantial meals a day, and that was only during the busy farming season. Now Eldest Young Master Zhao gives us three full meals a day, meat, and wages. How can you still be unsatisfied?”

He shifted his digging direction to make it easier for his partner to fill the baskets, adding, “Don’t get any fanciful ideas. Save your wages, work hard for a year or two, fix up your houses, marry a wife, and life will gradually improve.”

As he spoke, he noticed the sudden silence behind him. The atmosphere felt off. Turning around, he saw Zhao An standing not far away with Qintong, both smiling at him.

Zhao An marveled at the simplicity of people’s thinking at this time. Aside from the Zhao family members who had enjoyed privileges, the villagers hardly resisted his decisions. He knew that even hardworking people in this era might not necessarily be able to secure their livelihoods, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate such diligent and earnest individuals.

He addressed the digging workers, “Work hard. The kiln is about to yield results. Once the full set of pottery pipes is fired, I’ll give each of you a bonus.”

Earlier, when he had gathered people at the kiln’s open ground, the kiln workers had come out to watch, eager and excited. Seeing their interest in training, Zhao An reassured them with the same promise. He had already repeated the same words three times, as there was still a group of workers responsible for chopping wood and making charcoal who hadn’t joined the training.

Although aware of the potential threats from marauding soldiers and famine caused by drought, Zhao An still hoped to quickly produce the drainage and shower systems. Firstly, the pottery pipes would greatly improve his living conditions. Secondly, once mass-produced, they could be sold to other local gentry for a substantial profit. Recently, the season for harvesting gastrodia elata had passed, leaving only silver ear fungi, black fungus, and grapes to sell, bringing in merely five or six mace of silver a day—just enough to cover the meals of the kiln workers.

Moreover, with over one hundred twenty villagers already participating in training, it was sufficient to protect a small village. Thus, he didn’t include his kiln workers in the training, planning to wait until they finished firing this batch of pottery pipes.

Today was the first training session for Zhao Family Village villagers. Thanks to over a month of collective labor and queuing for meals, they already had a basic sense of obedience and a foundation for training. Zhao An easily arranged them into neat ranks and had Liu Huan lead them on a run around the village as basic physical training.

After the villagers completed a lap around the village and returned to the open ground in front of the kiln, originally used for storing firewood, everyone was panting heavily. Zhao An, who hadn’t run with them, stood waiting on the ground. Pointing to a pile of sharpened wooden sticks, he said, “Pick up your weapons. Form groups of ten according to your earlier assignments. We’ll practice charging.”

This morning, he had sent Uncle Hai and Liu Hu to town to hire a blacksmith for making farm tools. Still, he believed that sharpened wooden or bamboo sticks, combined with coordinated charges, would be more effective than fighting individually with knives. However, some iron farm tools were necessary to guard against potential harm if large groups of marauding soldiers invaded and street fighting broke out.

Most villagers obediently picked up the wooden sticks prepared by Qintong. However, one of the three troublemakers who had been spanked by Liu Huan the previous night defiantly said to Zhao An, “Young Master Zhao, do you really think these wooden sticks can fend off those famine refugees? My grandfather told me stories about how, in his youth, he and others fleeing famine once stormed the gates of a county town and broke them down.”

He looked at Zhao An skeptically. “Young Master, you’re a scholar. Do you even know how to train people? Aren’t you just fooling us? Making us run and play with sticks—it’s child’s play.”

Qintong, holding a wooden stick beside Zhao An, felt indignant. His young master was chosen by immortals, knew mystical arts, and had even tamed wolves. How dare these illiterate villagers question him?

Qintong raised his stick, intending to strike the man’s head and teach him a lesson. But Zhao An intercepted it midway, his gaze fixed on the challenger. Smiling slightly, he said, “Since you think I can’t teach, why don’t we spar? If you win, you can teach everyone.”

The man gulped, hesitating. But someone in the crowd egged him on, “Liu Laozhuang, don’t chicken out! Young Master wants to spar with you. Show him what you’ve got!”

Clearly, while only three had openly defied Liu Huan by skipping training, over thirty percent were reluctant but didn’t dare speak up, choosing instead to stir up trouble in this setting.

Liu Laozhuang, remembering the humiliation of being publicly spanked with bamboo strips, felt a surge of anger. He charged at Zhao An with his stick. Though he didn’t dare strike too hard, aiming for Zhao An’s legs, his sudden attack was meant to catch Zhao An off guard—a sly move.

However, Zhao An’s observational skills were far sharper than ordinary people’s. The moment Liu Laozhuang charged, Zhao An was prepared. Seizing the moment when Liu Laozhuang swung his stick, Zhao An swiftly moved to his side and struck his spine, sending him facedown to the ground. Then, Zhao An stepped on the back of his neck.

Liu Laozhuang flailed like an overturned turtle, unable to get up. Suddenly, everyone remembered how swiftly and decisively Zhao An had dealt with the hefty Zhao Tongming three months earlier. But in the intervening time, Zhao An had been exceptionally kind, like a benevolent figure—distributing most of the money from selling strawberry seedlings to the villagers, providing ample food and drink, and even giving the newly built brick and tile kiln to the village.

His gentle demeanor had made many forget his earlier fierceness, seeing him as an inexperienced young master. But today, with a single move, he subdued a burly man like Liu Laozhuang, reminding them of his ruthless handling of Zhao Tongming’s family. Their skin prickled with fear.

When Zhao An smiled at them again, no one dared take him lightly. They shut their mouths, held their breath, and trembled like prey under a hawk’s eye.

Qintong, seeing his young master’s dominance, proudly addressed the now-subdued villagers, “My young master was taught martial arts by experts. How dare you challenge him?”

Zhao An finally spoke, “Line up. Begin training.”

As everyone reformed their ranks, Zhao An removed his foot from Liu Laozhuang’s back and prodded his arm with the stick. “Get up and continue training.”

Zhao An walked a few steps to the side of the open ground, then suddenly leaped onto a pile of stacked firewood with light, precise steps. Standing with his hands behind his back, he gazed into the distance.

He intended to impress the villagers further, but upon opening his eyes, he spotted a figure standing on bamboo tips atop a nearby hill, swaying like a feather in the wind—a true display of Lightness Kung Fu.

Embarrassed, Zhao An looked at Hu Sheng. In the blink of an eye, Hu Sheng was beside the woodpile, his blue eyes like transparent glass in the sunlight, a slight curve to his lips. As if spellbound, Zhao An suddenly jumped down from the woodpile.

Fortunately, Hu Sheng caught him, preventing a humiliating fall. Zhao An grew even more embarrassed, lowering his head to avoid Hu Sheng’s gaze.

Only when Hu Sheng laughed and said, “You looked quite impressive just now,” did Zhao An shake off his awkwardness. Patting Hu Sheng’s hand, he signaled to be set down.

“Don’t laugh at me. I just wanted to intimidate the villagers. Don’t think my methods are childish,” Zhao An said softly, his voice barely audible over the villagers’ shouts as they practiced charging with sticks under Qintong’s guidance.

Hu Sheng hesitated for a moment before placing a hand on Zhao An’s shoulder, pulling him close. “Using a troublemaker to warn the others is a common tactic in the military. You did well.”

Praised by someone he admired, Zhao An couldn’t help but break into a smile, his heart as sweet as if he’d eaten a honey-sweet peach.