Chapter 54

Chapter 54

The clatter of hooves faded into the distance. Yin Qianfeng stood by the boat, staring hard in the direction Nan Wuxie had disappeared.

"Second Chief, you really trust him?" a guard beside her asked in a low voice.

Yin Qianfeng did not answer immediately, her eyes still fixed on where he'd ridden off.

Nan Wuxie's trip to Heishi Ferry was the answer itself—those worthless old relics had even gotten under his skin enough to make him want to kill, and that was obvious. So the Qianchen Pavilion stirring the pot in Shezhou didn't make them his outright enemies; they both knew it. As for what came next, that was a problem for another day.

After a moment, Yin Qianfeng was still staring into the empty dark. Her voice came with the cold wind: "The people's complaints cut deeper than any blade."

Wei Qinghe followed Nan Wuxie upstairs and, watching him shut the window, asked quietly, "Marquis, should we make a move?"

***

"We just made a deal with someone, and now you want to hit them?" Nan Wuxie grinned at Wei Qinghe. "Zi Tan, that's pretty shady."

Wei Qinghe knew Nan Wuxie was just shooting the breeze and ignored him. His words just hung in the air, unanswered.

Seeing he wasn't getting a rise out of him, Nan Wuxie rolled his neck in disappointment, with a crack. "No rush. Let's wait a bit. The Qianchen Pavilion wants to take advantage of the chaos—let's give them the chance."

Wei Qinghe: "You're really going to let them into the city?"

"Mm." Nan Wuxie shrugged off his cloak and tossed it over the back of a chair. "Ride to the Donghai Camp tonight and pull eight hundred elite soldiers. Have them set up camp quietly at the foot of the mountain outside the city and wait for my orders. Keep it quiet—don't let anyone know."

"Marquis, you're thinking... 'the oriole behind the mantis'?"

"These people don't deserve to be in office anymore." Nan Wuxie's voice was heavy. "The Qianchen Pavilion wants to stir up a rebellion—I'll play along and show them what a real 'cleanse the court' looks like."

Wei Qinghe still wasn't convinced: "What if they actually take Shezhou or just pay lip service?"

"Then they're digging their own graves," Nan Wuxie replied with certainty. "Yin Qianfeng wants to ride the people's anger, but what the people need is food and medicine, not someone grabbing power. If she can't give them a way to live, they'll run her out within a day. They're not that dumb."

He paused, then added, "Tell the men: when the Qianchen Pavilion people come into the city, don't make a move. Wait until they cause a ruckus and the officials panic—then we'll 'restore order.' At that point, spare who needs sparing, kill who needs killing."

"Yes."

After Wei Qinghe left, Nan Wuxie opened the window again and looked out at the silhouette of Shezhou City, like a sleeping giant. Tonight, that giant would wake up, and all Nan Wuxie had to do was stand by and watch the rotten flesh under its fur get peeled away, piece by piece.

Yin Qianfeng had guessed right: each of them would take what they needed. He wanted Shezhou cleaned up; she wanted to ride the wave. As for who'd get what they wanted in the end... that depended on who understood what the people really needed.

Midnight. The night watchman had just struck the second round of the third watch when a few dozen figures in black slipped out of the shadows by the western city wall.

Leading them was the Qianchen Pavilion's Third Chief, Shen Kuo. He had a blue cloth wrapped around his head, a short knife tucked at his back, and he put a finger to his lips for silence.

At the base of the wall, the guards were dozing off, leaning on their spears, drool running down their chins.

"Stick to the Second Chief's plan," Shen Kuo said in a low voice. Then the group split into three teams, melting into the dark like water into sand.

At the North Street grain depot, two guards were gambling against a doorpost, clinking copper coins in their hands. Suddenly they heard something behind them, but before they could turn, they were gagged and pinned down. A short knife slashed across their throats—not even a grunt escaped.

Team two pried open the depot door, and a musty smell of old grain hit them. They lit a torch and looked inside: grain piles stacked to the rafters, most of it already wormy.

One of them kicked a sack. "Second Chief's orders—only take the fresh stuff. Let the people see it with their own eyes."

At the medical dispensary, things went even smoother. The night-shift apprentice was nodding off on the counter. A few black-clad figures slipped in through the back window. The herbs on the shelves still carried a damp scent—wild ginger, angelica, honeysuckle... all common medicines for epidemics.

They didn't touch the "life-saving medicines" sealed by the Listening Terrace. They only filled sacks with ordinary herbs, moving as quietly as mice stealing rice.

In an alley on South Street, Team Two was knocking door to door. A creaking door opened a crack, and an old man peered out. Seeing the silver fish tokens at their waists, he panicked and tried to shut the door, but one of them held it open.

"Don't be afraid, elder. We're here to deliver grain."

"Grain?" The old man's lips quivered like a sieve. "The officials said... said there's no grain left anymore."

"They lied to you." The black-clad man shoved half a sack of coarse rice into his arms. "The prefectural granaries are full, but they won't distribute it. If you want an explanation, go to the main street now—lots of people are gathering there."

The old man clutched the grain sack and watched the black-clad figures move to the next door. Suddenly he called out, "My son... my son was beaten by the officials a couple of days ago. Can he come too?"

"Yes," the black-clad man said without looking back. "Go and you'll see—your family isn't the only one wronged."

By the hour of the Tiger (3-5 AM), dew soaked the roads. The main street had already gathered over a hundred people—women holding children, old people leaning on canes, and some young, strong men clutching hoes and carrying poles over their shoulders, their eyes blazing in the darkness.

Shen Kuo mingled among the crowd, listening to the rising murmur. Suddenly he shouted toward the prefectural office, "Did you hear? Lord Zhou was still drinking ginseng soup last night, while our grain is locked away in the granary rotting!"

"Really?" someone asked.

"Absolutely!" A man who had just received grain raised his sack. "The Qianchen Pavilion people just delivered grain. They said the prefectural granaries are full to the brim, but they won't give us any!"

"So what are we waiting for? Let's go to the prefectural office and demand our grain!"

As the words fell, no one knew who made the first move, but the dark mass of people surged like a tide toward the prefectural office.

Inside the rear residence of the prefectural office, a rooster had just crowed once. Zhou Xianzong was dozing at his desk. He had been up until the small hours calculating the disaster relief grain accounts with Ji Zhou and Luan Xucheng, and had only just managed to sleep for a bit.

Suddenly, a thunderous crash came from outside, as if someone had smashed open the main gate. Then came a chorus of shouts, rolling like thunder, jolting him so violently that his head banged against the inkstone, splattering ink all over his face.

"What's happening? What's happening?" He scrambled to wipe his face, the inkstone falling to the floor with a crack, splitting in two. "What on earth is this?"

His trusted page boy burst in, stumbling, his face as white as paper: "My lord! It's awful! So many commoners... so many commoners are blocking the gate, shouting for grain—they're about to break in!"

"Commoners?" Zhou Xianzong was stunned. He grabbed the boy's arm and shook him. "Why would commoners suddenly cause trouble? Wasn't grain just distributed?"

"The grain distributed was all rotten millet and spoiled vegetables!" the page boy wailed. "They say... they say they saw people from the Qianchen Pavilion moving fresh grain out of the granaries. They claim we've been hoarding the good grain!"

Zhou Xianzong realized then that the relief grain had been embezzled and replaced by some subordinate, but it was too late. The evil he had done by shielding his own men was now coming back to haunt him.

Before the page boy finished speaking, the front courtyard erupted with the sound of battering against the gate, mixed with the roars of countless people, rolling like muffled thunder.

Zhou Xianzong's legs gave way. He almost collapsed, holding onto the desk to steady himself. "Quick! Call the guards! Have them stop the people!"

"They... they can't stop them!" The page boy pointed out the window. "There are too many of them—half the city has come!"

Zhou Xianzong scrambled to his feet and peered through the crack in the window. In the courtyard, a dark tide of people surged, brandishing hoes, carrying poles, and even wielding dismantled door panels, charging toward the main hall.

The guards shouted and brandished their swords, but they were pushed back step by step. A young guard turned to flee in terror, only to trip and be swallowed by the crowd. Countless feet stamped over him, and his scream was cut short.

"Heavens..." Zhou Xianzong's legs were shaking. Limping, he ran toward the back courtyard.

Several vice magistrates in the back courtyard were also trembling with fear. "Lord Zhou! Run! They've rebelled!"

Zhou Xianzong's mind buzzed with confusion. "Everything was fine yesterday!"

"Who knows what evil wind has blown in!" One of the vice magistrates grabbed him and dragged him toward the rock garden. "Never mind that now! I dug a secret tunnel behind the rock garden—it leads outside the city! If we don't leave now, we'll be trampled to pulp!"

Zhou Xianzong was pulled along, one boot lost along the way, still muttering, "What about the guards? What about the prefectural office?"

"We're about to die, and you're still worrying about the officials and the prefecture!" the man's voice was shrill. "If we get out of here, we might survive!"

The few of them stumbled into the secret passage behind the rockery. No sooner had they covered the stone slab than they heard a loud "boom" from outside.

The front hall's door was smashed in. Countless feet trampled through the courtyard, shouts and screams mixed together, as if they were about to tear the prefecture apart.

The secret tunnel was pitch black and damp; all you could hear was everyone's heavy breathing. Zhou Xianzong groped along the stone wall, then, suddenly remembering something, he stopped: "What about the Qi family, though? Their house is on South Street; there's no way they can escape."

"To hell with the Qi family!" the assistant magistrate's voice turned nasty in the darkness. "Isn't Qi Chenhui capable? Let him go reason with the folks! We'll be lucky if we can save our own skins!"

Zhou Xianzong said nothing, but his breathing grew faster and more ragged. He suddenly remembered Wang Erzhu's mother, the moldy grain, and that young guy who got beaten to death...

So the accumulated grievances could really become knives that take lives.

In the main hall of the prefectural office, the people had flooded the room. The official desk was overturned, case files scattered all over the floor. Someone climbed onto Zhou Xianzong's desk and tore his half-written memorial to shreds.

Shen Kuo was mixed in with the crowd, watching the chaotic scene. Suddenly he jumped onto a table and shouted at the top of his lungs: "Folks! The grain is in the west courtyard granary! The medicine is in the east wing! Let's go get them ourselves, no need to beg!"

"Yeah! Let's go get the grain!" The crowd surged like a wave toward the west courtyard. As they passed the jail, someone remembered the officials locked up, grabbed a rock, and smashed the lock: "Drag out those murdering bastards!"

The prison door was smashed open. Several officials cowered in the corner in fear, soiling themselves. The people didn't beat them; they just dragged them into the yard, tied them to pillars with ropes, stuffed rags in their mouths, and made them watch the grain being carried away.

Just then, a thunderous horn blast came from outside the city walls. A chill ran through Shen Kuo. He ran to the gate and saw the west city gate smashed open. Yin Qianfeng rode a white horse, her red tunic strikingly bright in the morning light, followed by hundreds of men, their silver fish tokens flashing in the rising sun.

"Second Chief!" Shen Kuo greeted her. "We've taken the prefecture. Zhou Xianzong has fled!"

Yin Qianfeng reined in her horse, her gaze sweeping over the chaotic prefectural office. Her voice was flat: "He won't get far. You think Nan Wuxie would let him?"

She dismounted and said to the men behind her, "First squad guards the granary, distribute grain per capita, no looting allowed. Second squad goes to the medical workshop, move the medicine to the main street, set up a medical tent. The rest follow me to clear out the officials. Don't harm the commoners. Make sure it looks clean."

The men acknowledged and dispersed in an orderly manner. The townsfolk were scared at first seeing these armed men, but when they saw them only moving grain and not hurting anyone, they gradually relaxed, and some even volunteered to help carry sacks.

In the Qi family residence on South Street, Qi Chenhui was directing the servants to reinforce the gate. When the shouts and screams started outside, he had people bring in the elderly, women, and children from the vicinity. Now the courtyard was packed with people.

The steward rushed in frantically: "Young master! Qianchen Pavilion's people are in the city! The prefectural office has been taken!"

"I know." Qi Chenhui was handing a cup of water to an old woman, his hand steady. "Tell the household to guard the front and back gates. Don't let the mutinous soldiers in. Reassure the folks in the yard—with the Qi family here, they've got nothing to fear."

The moment he finished, banging came from the gate. Qi Chenhui frowned, walked to the door, and asked, "Who is it?"

"We're from the prefecture!" the voice outside was gruff. "Open up, or we'll smash the door down!"

"Zhou Xianzong's already fled. Why are you still hanging around?" Qi Chenhui raised his voice.

"Open the door! Let us in!" Curses came from outside, then violent thuds—the door panels rattled.

The people in the courtyard screamed in fear. A man grabbed a carrying pole and rushed out: "Damn it, let's fight them!"

Qi Chenhui stopped him. He was about to speak when screams erupted outside. The banging stopped, followed by the clash of steel, and then silence after a moment.

He hesitated, opened the door a crack, and saw several mutinous soldiers lying on the ground, already dead. In the shadows of the alley, a few black-clad figures flashed past, their movements as fast as the wind.

"Who are these people...?" Qi Chenhui was stunned.

On the top floor of Wanghu Tower, Nan Wuxie stood by the window watching everything. Wei Qinghe pushed the door open and bowed: "Marquis, the Qi family side is fine. A Jin and his men dealt with the mutinous soldiers without alarming the people inside."

"Mm." Nan Wuxie's eyes were fixed on the prefecture, where grain was being continuously moved to the main street. "She's fast, I'll give her that."

"She's having the grain distributed, and it's well-organized," Wei Qinghe added. "Lord Wen sent word that Qianchen Pavilion indeed did not touch his life-saving medicine."

Nan Wuxie smiled: "More sense than Zhou Xianzong." He paused. "Have our people withdraw and just watch from a distance."

"Yes." Wei Qinghe was about to leave when he was called back.

"What about Zhou Xianzong?"

"He fled. Wu Ye's on his tail."

"Mm." Nan Wuxie's voice turned colder. "Once you catch him, dump him right in front of Yin Qianfeng."

"Yes."

By about 8 AM, the grain from the prefectural office had been distributed to the main street. The people lined up, holding all kinds of containers—earthen jars, wooden buckets, and some even using broken hats.

Yin Qianfeng stood by the grain pile, watching her men scoop out grain, when she suddenly heard a sound behind her.

She turned and saw Chu Qi standing there, his pure gold mask somewhat dazzling in the sunlight.

"Master of the Pavilion." She bowed in greeting.

"Have Zhou Xianzong's evidence of crimes been organized?" Chu Qi's voice was muffled through the mask.

"They've been organized and posted at the street intersection."

"What do the people say?"

"They want him to pay with his life." Yin Qianfeng paused. "But more people care about whether there's enough grain to eat and enough medicine to use."

Chu Qi said nothing. He glanced toward the Qi family's direction—it was very quiet there, with faint wisps of cooking smoke rising.

"Is the Qi family alright?"

"Someone is protecting them in secret." Yin Qianfeng's voice lowered. "Nan Wuxie's people."

Chu Qi was silent for a moment, then suddenly said: "Have the men guard the city gates well. Don't let any officials leave. Wait until the people have eaten their fill, then we'll talk about other matters."

"Yes."

The sunlight on the main street grew warmer. The grain distribution line continued. A child ran around with half a flatbread, his laughter crisp like bells.

In the distance at Wanghu Tower, Nan Wuxie was looking toward the prefectural office. The flags there had been torn down and replaced with Qianchen Pavilion's silver fish banners, flapping loudly in the wind.

He picked up his teacup. The tea had gone lukewarm, but he still took a sip.

She Prefecture—it had changed hands.

The next day at dusk, the setting sun was like blood.

The flagpole in front of the prefectural office had taken on a new sight. The heads of Zhou Xianzong and several trusted officials were hung beneath the silver fish banner, their hair disheveled, their faces frozen in the terror of their final moments.

A circle of people gathered below—some sighing, some cursing, some silently turning away. Yin Qianfeng stood on the gate tower, looking at the suspended heads, her eyes utterly calm.

"Second Chief," Shen Kuo came up from below, his voice carrying a hint of hesitation. "These heads look rather terrifying. The people might..."

Yin Qianfeng understood. Her gaze swept over the crowd on the street, then she turned to look at Chu Qi. He still wore the pure gold mask, standing in the shadows, his expression unreadable. "What does the Pavilion Master think?"

Chu Qi was silent for a moment, then his voice came through the mask, somewhat muffled: "Take them down."

"Woo—!"

"Woo——!"

Yin Qianfeng had not yet opened her mouth to order the heads removed when a blast of horns came from outside the city.

The notes were deep, urgent, and carried a lethal quality.

Her heart tightened. She gripped the battlements and looked down, seeing dust clouds billowing in the distance.

"Is this... the imperial army...?" She narrowed her eyes and peered closely.

"These are Nan Wuxie's troops!!"

Nan Wuxie's troops were coming. The sound was like thousands of horses and men thundering in, a muffled roar rolling closer. At a glance, a blinding expanse of gold appeared, with enough force to annihilate the entire city, as if the very air would be torn apart.

Eight hundred soldiers in iron armor caught the light of the setting sun.

A dead silence fell.

-----------------------

Author's note: Extra update! Extra update! There's another one coming after this.