Chapter 232: The Wind Ceases (IV)

Chapter 232: The Wind Ceases (IV)

Folks at court often joke: Japanese pirates should be suppressed, but not wiped out completely.

Because only by keeping bandits around can you keep yourself important.

Officials at every level, under the banner of "suppressing pirates," lined their own pockets at the people's expense, like greedy locusts, sucking the common folk dry, bleeding them white—the perks they'd grabbed were too many to count.

Le Wuya knew well that his success in suppressing pirates was, in the eyes of many officials, no different from carving out their flesh and draining their blood.

At present, the emperor was overjoyed by the reports of victory, and these sharp cookies wouldn't dare spoil the emperor's good mood right now.

And this was precisely Le Wuya's golden chance to crack down on these gentry.

By the time he returned from inspecting the islands, Mu Jiazhi, a real pro at criminal cases, had already gotten a general picture, squeezing a ton of intel out of the captured pirates.

After going through the first batch of case files, Le Wuya held one up: "This rat is accusing the Ji family in the south city of colluding with the enemy and committing treason?"

Mu Jiazhi nodded.

"Drag him in for a face-to-face showdown," Le Wuya tossed down the file, his expression one of righteous indignation. "Everyone under my watch is an upstanding citizen—can't have folks bad-mouthing them."

Mu Jiazhi: "..."

With your eyes wide open, could you please not talk out of your ass?

...

The garrison soldiers hit the Ji residence hard, calling out its head, Second Master Ji.

Second Master Ji was in his forties, thinking he was some kind of immortal. Besides his daily vices of booze, broads, and gambling, his biggest hobby was chasing Daoist immortality, convinced he was the height of refinement.

Of course, when taxes fell short, or when he set his sights on the wives or daughters of his tenant farmers, he was happy to bankroll some river pirates and water bandits to do his dirty work.

A few days prior, upon hearing of the soldiers surrounding the mansions, his legs had started shaking, and he'd lost his appetite for days, turning weak and frail, walking all floaty, like he was about to ride the wind up to heaven.

When his servant came scrambling in to say a big force had surrounded the place, he nearly choked on his own spit.

After barely pulling himself together, he went out to receive them while frantically drafting mental scripts, scraping together what little brains he had to figure out how to weasel out of it.

However, this spoiled old geezer had totally overestimated his own nerve.

These garrison soldiers had just soaked their blades in blood—how could their vibe match some run-of-the-mill clerks or grunts?

The moment Second Master Ji stepped out of his gate, he felt a bone-chilling killer vibe slam into him, and his carefully rehearsed speech went up in smoke, replaced by rivers of cold sweat pouring down his face.

Yu Mingchun, the leading garrison soldier, coldly stared down the shaking Second Master Ji.

Le Wuya had once thrown a big birthday bash for Yu Mingchun's grandpa.

And back in the day, his grandma had been the daughter of a tenant farmer under this very bastard's thumb. That old lecher had groped her, pushed her to the edge, and she'd nearly jumped into the river.

To find some peace, she'd married into a soldier's family.

That's exactly why Le Wuya had sent him.

Watching your own enemy crash and burn with your own eyes—now that's a sweet treat.

Yu Mingchun gave a wave, and they dragged out a pirate.

The second that guy locked eyes with Second Master Ji, the old man's face went ghost white, his legs buckled, and he hit the ground, couldn't take it—passed out cold on the spot.

Seeing this, Yu Mingchun couldn't help but silently tip his hat to the magistrate's foresight.

He waved again, and a military physician hurried forward, flicking his wrist to pull out a few silver needles as thick as sewing needles, working on him right there, jabbing Second Master Ji back awake.

Mu Jiazhi always played it by the book in criminal cases, and the pirate's confession was super detailed—when and where he'd met Second Master Ji, what he'd gotten, and he could even sketch out the layout of the Ji place pretty well.

Add that to Second Master Ji's guilty conscience, and the showdown's outcome was a done deal.

Second Master Ji, plus a whole bunch of his servants, got hauled off for questioning.

That red gate got sealed up with paper strips right after, marking the total wipeout of the Ji family.

Word of Second Master Ji's fate spread fast through the city, reaching even those gentry and big shots still locked up in their mansions.

Now they were even more panicked.

Even the gentry who'd done nothing wrong couldn't choke down their food, scared the magistrate might settle old scores or slap fake charges on them—let alone the ones who'd actually done wrong.

With Second Master Ji as a cautionary tale, many gentry who'd once colluded with the pirates, scared shitless of getting nailed later, had no choice but to pack up their valuables overnight and bolt with their wives and kids—either hopping walls or digging through them—desperate to get out before they got cornered and clobbered like dogs in a pen. By then, regret would be too late.

Stay alive first; worry about the rest later.

As for these fugitives, Le Wuya didn't chase them down to the last man—hell, he was glad to see them go.

When he'd asked Zheng Miao for help, he'd only told the constables to watch the front and back gates.

If anyone had the chops of a wall-jumping dog or a wall-chewing rat, let 'em run.

Whether they sought refuge with relatives or friends, or vanished into the mountains under assumed names—if they could escape, then fate had decreed they weren't meant to die.

However, surely they lacked the power to move mountains and seas?

Bottom line, even if they bolted with their cash, they could only haul off the stuff they could carry.

Their property, fields, furniture, and antiques—could those grow legs and follow them?

So these hard assets had to be left behind with tears, all bequeathed to Le Wuya.

In this campaign, Le Wuya had captured roughly a hundred pirates in total. Among them were hard-headed ones who sought only a quick death, as well as many low-level small fry who had only ever sold their sweat and labor, knowing nothing of the dealings at the upper echelons.

Only two or three families could be immediately and conclusively convicted of colluding with the pirates.

Fortunately, Le Wuya had sealed off information in time, so these gentry had no way of knowing exactly whom he'd captured alive in battle.

What if one of the captives happened to be a pirate who'd once been in cahoots with them?

Their hearts raced, their breath shortened—they had to flee.

And in fleeing, they'd essentially exposed their own fox tails.

Remember, Le Wuya's stated purpose was to protect the gentry, not to detain them.

If you had nothing to feel guilty about, why run?

Once they ran, Le Wuya naturally had his justification to enter their mansions to search for evidence, confiscate their property, and distribute their lands to those of merit—killing multiple birds with one stone.

After these gentry escaped with their lives, they refused to give up, lingering in nearby prefectures and counties, secretly sending people to gather information.

The constables of the Provincial Surveillance Commission were all fit to be tied.

Zong Yao's intelligence network came in clutch at this moment.

Once it was confirmed that the bigwigs who ran the place had fled, Le Wuya immediately mobilized the tenant farmers under his thumb, asking them to list the gentry's crimes, to give themselves a legit excuse to confiscate their properties.

These gentry, who had racked up plenty of capital offenses in their daily lives, had done more than enough to deserve a noose. The tenant farmers had long hated their guts, but didn't dare say a peep, just seething inside.

Now, hearing that the villains who had bullied them for so long had fled in panic over colluding with the Japanese pirates, the crowd was riled up. With no more scruples, they lined up to air their grievances.

One tenant farmer, recalling how his infant child had been thrown to the ground and killed on the spot by the son of a tax-collecting squire, was utterly devastated. He collapsed to the ground, sobbing, and it broke everyone who saw it.

As a result, even if these fleeing gentry wished to come back, they couldn't. They had no choice but to suck it up and keep running.

Among them was a Tongzhou gentleman surnamed Xu, who hauled ass five hundred li (about 165 miles) to seek refuge with his uncle, a former prefect.

Mr. Xu had been a roly-poly kid since birth, and now he was a roly-poly old guy. He should have been at that age to enjoy his twilight years, spoiling his grandkids, but instead he was forced to hit the road and run for his life. The heartache of losing his property, plus the hardships of the journey and constant fear, made him drop a ton of weight within just a few days. The moment he met his uncle, he broke down sobbing.

Old Mr. Xu, a retired prefect living in leisure at home, was most fond of his younger kin. Hearing that his nephew had been persecuted by the local prefect, his heart went out to the kid, and he got misty-eyed—but he also got good and mad.

As for why his nephew had been persecuted, he put that on the back burner for now. He first helped his eldest nephew to his feet and grilled him about what exactly went down, quietly scheming to dig up dirt on Wen Ren Ming Ke's mistakes during his campaign against the pirates. Once the emperor got over his little happy spell, he'd have his student serving in the capital file an official complaint to get him impeached.

But the more he questioned, the more Old Prefect Xu was left scratching his head.

"A prefect has no business commanding troops, plain and simple."

"He doesn't hold the military power—it belongs to a vice-prefect surnamed Mu."

"Did he hire any soldiers off the books?"

"Nope, not a one. They're all legit soldiers, word is they were all handpicked from the regular army. Every last one is a registered military household in the Yellow Registers, all on the books. No word of any off-the-books hires."

"Has he used these troops to line his own pockets?"

"Not only has he not, he even shells out his own cash for them. Every man has armor, winter clothes, and during festivals they get meat, eggs, firewood, and rice. Is that stupid or what?"

"Then... has he been keeping soldiers cooped up at his place?"

"...No, I don't think so. Around New Year's, plenty of garrison soldiers wanted to go back to active duty, and Wen Ren let every one of them go, sending them back to their units to lead and train troops. The guy didn't play favorites one bit!"

"Then, has he had banners made on the sly, or strutted around calling himself 'So-and-So's Army'?"

"Certainly not. Wen Ren's a double-barreled surname, and 'Wen Ren Family Army' is a real tongue-twister. Who in their right mind would name their private army that?"

As for using garrison soldiers to push people around, strong-arm the markets, or bully the locals—that had never happened either.

Those troops were sticklers for discipline. Any soldier who messed with the locals got the bastinado, no exceptions, and was sent back to their original post.

No matter how he grilled him, the wily old Prefect Xu couldn't find a single crack in this guy's armor.

Pissed off but also curious, Old Prefect Xu wondered:

Where the hell did this slippery character come from?

...

Le Wuya, whom Old Prefect Xu had called "slippery," was at this moment sitting on his horse, weaving a flower crown, taking his sweet time as he rode through the flowers.

The little yellow horse already had a pink-and-blue flower crown on its ears.

Though the little yellow horse wasn't cut out for battle, it was sweet-tempered and a total show-off. Whenever it passed by a pond or well while wearing its crown, it would stop to admire itself, which cracked Le Wuya up.

Le Wuya was now weaving another crown.

Yuan Zijin, riding alongside him, wore a flower crown on his head, looking totally chill.

Ever since he'd rendered distinguished service, he'd settled down a lot. He'd stopped spouting so much nonsense, which honestly threw Le Wuya off.

Le Wuya finished another crown.

This one was his best yet. He turned it over in his hands, couldn't stop admiring it.

Seeing him hang the crown on one side of his saddlebag, Yuan Zijin couldn't help but call out: "Hey, my horse doesn't have one yet."

Le Wuya tossed the flower basket at him: "Get out of here, weave your own."

Yuan Zijin, unconvinced, tried his hand at it. But his craftsmanship was sorely lacking, and no matter how he tried, he couldn't get it to take shape. In a fit of frustration, he simply picked two pretty flowers and tucked them behind his horse's ears.

With such handicrafts to occupy them, the time on the road flew by.

Before they knew it, the two had arrived at their destination.

Le Wuya dismounted and offered a polite smile to the constables of the Provincial Surveillance Commission guarding the entrance: "You've all worked hard. I've come to see Zhang Kai, Master Zhang."

...

Hearing the announcement from outside, Zhang Kai, his face sallow and his frame gaunt, slowly rose to his feet.

What was coming had finally arrived.

He walked into the courtyard and saw Le Wuya standing before the dry landscape garden he had once so cherished, hands clasped behind his back, admiring the view.

Zhang Kai was momentarily dazed, feeling that the scene before him was eerily familiar—so familiar it sent chills down his spine.

The first time this man had visited his residence, his intentions had been anything but good.

Back then, he had quipped defiantly, asking whether the prefect had come to threaten Zhang Mou with baseless accusations.

And how had Wen Ren Ming Ke replied at the time?

At that moment, Le Wuya turned around and caught sight of Zhang Kai. A hint of a smile, like spring warmth entering his embrace, crept into his cold eyes.

He beckoned to Zhang Kai with a smile, his bearing as charming and elegant as on their first meeting.

Yet, in this warm April, that gesture from Le Wuya felt to Zhang Kai like the soul-summoning banner of the ox-headed and horse-faced demons sweeping across his neck. He felt as though he had been plunged into an ice cavern, a chill running through his entire body. Before he could even speak, his teeth began to chatter.

He finally remembered how Le Wuya had replied to him back then.

...He had said, this is not a threat.

"I don't usually threaten people like this."