Chapter 302: Slave Revolt in Jiangxi, March on Ganzhou

Although Jiangxi and Nan'ao had officially cut off commercial ties, smuggling flourished in secret and had never truly stopped.

Quite a bit of Yuan Yang currency still circulated on the Jiangxi market.

But once deflation set in, prices would keep falling under the twin pressures of panic and silver being dear while goods were cheap.

The same tael of silver that bought one dan of rice today could buy two tomorrow, and three the day after.

Under such circumstances, who would be willing to spend silver?

Everyone who got silver would hoard it at home, waiting for it to appreciate—which meant less and less silver in circulation, and the less silver there was, the further prices fell, plunging into a terrifying death spiral.

Yuan Chonghuan was frantic with worry. He could only keep sending urgent memorials to the Grand Secretariat, requesting funds to stabilize grain prices and using military pay to purchase food. But the Grand Secretariat, under heavy pressure from the Emperor, no longer dared to support Yuan Chonghuan strongly.

Reducing or exempting Jiangxi's Liaodong levy and suppression levy was utterly impossible. The Emperor had even sold palace goods to increase revenue and cut expenses, and had not hesitated to dismiss hundreds of thousands of courier station workers to save money.

At such a critical juncture, who would dare propose reducing Jiangxi's taxes and risk incurring His Majesty's displeasure?

The national treasury was cleaner than a brothel girl's backside. The northwest, northeast, and southwest were all desperately waiting for funds—who didn't have difficulties? Who wasn't making do against the odds? With the court refusing to help, Yuan Chonghuan's paltry military funds entering the market vanished like a clay ox sinking into the sea, accomplishing nothing while provoking discontent among his own soldiers.

At the same time, the Grand Secretariat kept pressing Yuan Chonghuan to go out and win victories. In a word, his position as Governor-General of Jiangxi had become a veritable headache.

At the critical moment, Han Runchang requested an audience with Yuan Chonghuan. As his chief financial advisor, Han knew exactly where the silver in the market was flowing. In the study, he first proposed lifting the trade ban and allowing free commerce with Nan'ao, letting silver from Fujian and Guangdong flow into Jiangxi to rescue the market. Yuan Chonghuan refused—beyond political considerations, grain and commodity prices in Jiangxi were now so low that opening the frontier trade market would simply let Fujian and Guangdong plunder Jiangxi's rice and land with a paltry amount of silver. It would be aiding the enemy through and through.

Han Runchang then proposed another plan: "If that's the case, your subordinate has another strategy. Ji'an Prefecture in Jiangxi has been home to many great hereditary clans since ancient times, and among them the five great surnames—Zou, Zuo, Yang, Li, and Ouyang—have the longest lineage and the deepest coffers..."

Yuan Chonghuan, impatient, cut him off: "I've thought of that approach. But getting them to contribute money to the war effort is easier said than done. If we push too hard, it will likely backfire."

The reason the five great surnames were prominent clans was precisely because of their enormous political influence.

For example, among the Li clan of Jishui, Li Banghua currently served as a third-rank Vice Minister of War, and Li Rixuan served as Regional Inspector of Henan.

And among the five surnames, the most powerful was the Zou clan of Anfu, whose hometown was the birthplace of the Jiangyou Wang Yangming School and the stronghold of the Donglin Faction. The current clan head, Zou Depu, was a Wanli-era jinshi who had since been stripped of his rank and reduced to commoner status.

The late clan elder Zou Yuanbiao, together with Gu Xiancheng and Zhao Nanxing, was known as one of the "Three Gentlemen of the Donglin Faction." His disciples and former subordinates were spread throughout court and countryside, and his influence ran extremely deep—while the officials of the county and prefectural offices around Ji'an were almost entirely drawn from the five clans.

The Gan Report had been able to attract so many famous scholars to write for it precisely because these five clans had put in great effort.

If Yuan Chonghuan dared to come down hard on these five clans, he would surely soon find himself obstructed at every turn in the capital and unable to move a step locally.

Han Runchang said: "Your Excellency need not ask them to contribute funds for the troops—only to spend money purchasing the grain and goods on the market to stabilize prices. That way the common people have a way to survive, and the great clans gain real benefits. Both problems resolve themselves."

At bottom, this method was about allying with the great clans to squeeze the common people—something Yuan Chonghuan found contemptible. But at this point, he truly had no other choice. The court wanted rebellion suppressed, the people wanted silver, and the great clans wanted profit.

Yuan Chonghuan was caught in the middle, with difficulties on every side. Since that was the case, he could only make do against his will, hoping the people would understand the court's hardships. That very day he sent out invitations, under the pretext of a banquet, summoning all the great clans—besides the five surnames, he also invited a dozen or so other households, all country gentry with considerable influence at court and in the provinces.

Since taking office as Governor-General, Yuan Chonghuan had accepted no gifts, hosted no banquets, and cultivated no connections, leaving the gentry of Jiangxi feeling uneasy, afraid they'd gotten a Hai Rui-style "clear sky father" official.

Now that they'd received Yuan Chonghuan's invitation, the great clans actually felt reassured. They prepared lavish gifts and set out cheerfully.

The banquet was held at the Governor-General's residence in Nanchang, with a very high standard of hospitality. During the feast, Yuan Chonghuan traded toasts with the clan heads, and the atmosphere was exceptionally lively.

Jiangxi was the stronghold of the Donglin Faction, and everyone present had countless connections to it. Since Yuan Chonghuan had been promoted by Han Kuang and Qian Longxi, he counted as half a Donglin man himself, so the conversation naturally turned to factional strife.

Everyone present fell to cursing Wei Zhongxian, saying he had ruined the state and harmed the people, competing with the common folk for profit—and thanking His Majesty's wisdom for eliminating the treacherous villain, and so on.

Ouyang Xuan drank a cup of wine, his face slightly flushed, and said: "Do you all know that the rebel Lin, the one who flayed Wei the eunuch alive, has recently made another grand move?" Zuo Yuanzhu spat out a fish bone and said languidly: "You mean those doings in Liaodong? Who knows if they're true or false. The Jianzhou barbarians and the rebel Lin have nothing to do with each other—why would he travel a thousand li to pick a fight with them?"

Ouyang Xuan said: "The newspaper says the rebel Lin captured more than a dozen high-ranking Jianzhou barbarian officials from Liaodong, the highest of them equivalent to a Minister of Revenue, and is preparing to execute them publicly according to law."

Zou Depu said angrily: "Utter nonsense! Can the words of rebels be trusted?"

Yuan Chonghuan sat at the head of the table, drinking in silence, a nameless fury rising in his heart.

Banning the shipment of Nan'ao goods into Jiangxi—especially banning the sale of the Nan'ao Times—was a rule Yuan Chonghuan had personally established. Not only were these great clans openly violating it, they even dared to discuss the contents of the Nan'ao Times right in front of him, showing not the slightest respect for him as Governor-General. Utterly detestable!

Mao Yuanyi saw Yuan Chonghuan's expression and thought to himself that trouble was brewing. He hastily tried to smooth things over: "Gentlemen, the Nan'ao Times is nothing but the one-sided words of rebels. Best not to discuss it, lest it confuse the public."

Ouyang Xuan was startled. He put down his chopsticks, clasped his hands, and said: "What Bureau Secretary Mao says is right. These tidings I heard only through hearsay, just idle talk to pass the time..." The other great clans also hurried to make excuses, though their words were quite perfunctory.

The worst was Zou Depu, who merely gave a cold snort, his expression utterly contemptuous.

Seeing this, the fury in Yuan Chonghuan's heart blazed even hotter. He set down his wine cup outright and stated the purpose of the banquet.

After the clan heads heard him out, they were silent for a long while. They all knew about the silver shortage—indeed, one could say that half the credit for Jiangxi's silver famine belonged to them, for it was these great clans who had deliberately hoarded their silver and kept it out of circulation.

Now Yuan Chonghuan was asking them to bring out their vaulted silver to rescue the market. For the great clans, this could indeed yield a small profit—genuinely a win-win approach.

But with prices falling so sharply, wouldn't holding onto their silver a while longer earn them even more?

And so the great clans made excuses left and right, finding all manner of high-sounding reasons, simply unwilling to part with their silver.

Yuan Chonghuan said coldly: "Do you gentlemen consider yourselves readers of the sages' books? Do you consider yourselves pure-stream men of integrity?"

"What do you mean by that?" At these words, all the great clans set down their chopsticks at once, their expressions darkening considerably.

Mao Yuanyi knew Yuan Chonghuan's temper and sensed disaster approaching. He hastily raised his wine cup to smooth things over.

"Come, let's drink! I have the deepest admiration for Zou Nangao's (Zou Yuanbiao's style name) character. Zou Xima, this cup is to you!"

However, Zou Depu, who had once served as Xima of the Directorate of the Household, showed no reaction at all. His expression furious, he stared at Yuan Chonghuan and demanded: "My Zou clan, though not a great house, has maintained a reputation for purity in Ji'an for over eight hundred years. We cannot be insulted without cause. I ask Your Excellency to explain these words plainly."

Yuan Chonghuan rose abruptly and said: "Fine! I'll speak plainly then. In the world today, there are the Jianzhou barbarians in the northeast, roving bandits in the northwest, the She-An rebellion in the southwest, and the rebel Lin in the southeast.

The Great Ming has become a land fought over on four sides, its national strength exhausted. To meet the demands of war, we have had no choice but to keep increasing the Liaodong levy and the suppression levy. The people can bear no more, and unrest grows ever greater. You gentlemen all style yourselves heirs of the School of Principle, with the cultivation of self, regulation of family, governance of state, and pacification of all under heaven as your goals. Yet you possess ten thousand mu of fine fields, thousands of servants, and fortunes beyond counting—and at a time when the state is weak and the people exhausted, you refuse to part with so much as a single hair to help. What kind of principle is that?"

"You... don't slander me with blood on your mouth! My Zou clan has only a paltry thousand mu or so..."

Zou Depu's face flushed crimson, his bluster masking his fear. He hadn't expected Yuan Chonghuan to be so direct, to tear open the great clans' secrets without the slightest regard for criticism at court or in the provinces.

"A thousand mu?" Yuan Chonghuan sneered. "Your Anfu Zou clan claims descent from Duke Mu of the Spring and Autumn state of Zhu, with eight hundred years of farming and scholarship passed down through the generations. Since your ancestor Zou Shouyi studied under Master Yangming, every generation has produced sons who passed the jinshi examination. You are the number one clan in Jiangxi—and you have only a paltry thousand mu?"

"You, you, you..." Zou Depu was so angry his lips trembled and his face went bloodless.

Yuan Chonghuan continued: "The Zou clan alone has over three thousand tenant servants and over fifty thousand mu of tax-exempt land. Your fraudulently registered holdings surely exceed one hundred thousand mu. Even the forests, rivers, and hills of Anfu are the Zou clan's property—ordinary folk wading across a river must pay a copper coin in crossing fees..." "Silence! Silence!" Zou Depu rose abruptly and roared, "Slander! This is all slander! Yuan Chonghuan, you insult my ancestors and fabricate malicious rumors—what is your true intention? Though no one of my Zou clan serves at court, we have accumulated old connections over the years. Are you not afraid I will submit a memorial impeaching you?" The great clans were all of one body. Seeing Zou Depu tear off all pretense, the others also rose to attack, threatening to submit memorials of impeachment.

But Yuan Chonghuan stood fearless. He clapped his hands, and a subordinate came forward holding a sword in both hands.

With a screech, Yuan Chonghuan drew the sword from its sheath and pointed it diagonally at Zou Depu. In an instant, the hall was filled with gleaming sword light and chilling cold.

The assembled clan heads were instantly like geese with their necks squeezed—their clamor cut off abruptly.

Zou Depu stared at the sword tip, goosebumps rising all over his body, his voice trembling: "Yuan Chonghuan, you are the dignified Governor-General of Jiangxi for the Great Ming. Would you dare kill me here in this hall? Are you also going to learn from the rebel Lin and rise in revolt?"

Murderous intent blazed in Yuan Chonghuan's eyes, the sword tip utterly still.

"On the second day of the tenth month of the ninth year of Tianqi, I was received by His Majesty at the palace and pledged to pacify the rebellion within five years. His Majesty bestowed upon me this Imperial Sword, granting me the authority to execute first and report afterward over all officials in my jurisdiction, great or small! You, a dismissed Xima, wish to test your body against this blade?"

Zou Depu dared not speak.

The imperial sword of the Ming Dynasty was no mere ornament—it carried true authority over life and death.

"Since this Governor-General dares to promise pacification within five years, I have long since cast aside thoughts of life, death, honor, and disgrace. So long as I can wipe out the rebel Lin, I will use any means and risk any danger. Do any of you still have objections?"

Ouyang Xuan hurriedly said: "Your Excellency's noble righteousness fills this old man with admiration. I am willing to contribute my family's wealth to assist!"

Zuo Yuanzhu snapped back to his senses and immediately said: "I too am willing to contribute. I too am willing to contribute."

The dozen or so other clan patriarchs also expressed their willingness to open their purses generously.

In the Ming Dynasty's two hundred-plus years, the great clans had seen plenty of corrupt officials, and even 'upright lords' like Hai Rui were not unheard of. But a man like Yuan Chonghuan, who threatened to kill those who disobeyed—that was something the great clans had truly never encountered.

Under raw power, even a great local clan could only bow its head obediently.

Soon everyone had stated their position, save for Zou Depu, who still craned his neck stubbornly, refusing to yield.

The killing intent in Yuan Chonghuan's eyes grew visibly heavier.

Ouyang Xuan hastily tugged at Zou Depu's sleeve and urged: "Agree first, agree with him first!"

Zou Depu said reluctantly: "The Zou clan is willing to follow Your Excellency's commands."

Yuan Chonghuan broke into a smile, sheathed the imperial sword, and raised his wine cup: "Gentlemen, do not take offense. That I resorted to such measures was out of necessity. When the rebel Lin is eradicated in days to come, I will surely sing your praises before His Majesty. Ganbei!"

The clan patriarchs seized the opportunity to back down gracefully, all claiming no offense was taken. Some even praised Yuan Chonghuan for his astonishing boldness, calling him a truly good official who pleaded for the people and served the state with loyalty. After much hollow pleasantry, the banquet was cleared away and the clan patriarchs took their leave.

Outside Nanchang's city walls, the patriarchs of the five clans gathered to discuss their countermeasures.

Ouyang Xuan said: "Since His Excellency wants us to spend silver to rescue the market, we'll spend it. But what we buy with that silver is our decision." Everyone knew that no matter how much grain one bought at low prices, it was never as profitable as land—land was the true foundation of wealth, capable of generating silver endlessly. But silver had not yet peaked in value; buying land now would mean earning less than they could later.

Zou Depu said bitterly: "Since that Yuan fellow shows us no mercy, don't blame us for showing none to those below. We might as well tighten our methods further." Zuo Yuanzhu added: "Saving the world is saving the people anyway. The harder we squeeze prices down, the more people we save."

Having finished their deliberations, the five clans rushed back to Ji'an Prefecture that very night.

The next day, the five great clans released over ten thousand taels of silver to buy grain. The small and mid-sized landlords nearby thought their unsellable grain was finally saved.

But they never expected the grain sale to come with strings attached—they had to sell their land as well. For every mu of grain production they wanted to sell, they had to bundle in two mu of land.

Under the silver famine, prices were bizarrely low. A mu of paddy field that normally sold for five or six taels, even ten taels, was now worth only one.

Self-cultivating farmers and small landlords were unwilling to sell their land, but with taxes to pay and no other way to scrape together silver, they had no choice. Within days, over a thousand mu of land had been swallowed up by the great clans, and large numbers of self-cultivating farmers were reduced to tenant laborers.

Zou Depu found this method too slow and the silver paid out still too much, so he introduced usury loans with compound interest. The common folk couldn't do the math at all—seeing that they wouldn't have to sell their land, they muddle-headedly went to borrow.

Little did they know these usury loans accrued interest daily. Within half a month, the interest exceeded the principal. Those who couldn't repay, per the loan agreement, forfeited all family property to settle the debt, and their family members were enslaved.

This was far more profitable than simply buying land.

Chen Ping'an was a farmer who had borrowed usury money. His family had five members—both parents alive, a younger brother and a younger sister below him—and owned thirty mu of land. Their life had been fairly comfortable.

But when the silver famine struck, his summer grain rotted in the fields with no one to buy it.

He had a family to support and some modest assets. Unwilling to become a wandering refugee like his fellow villagers, and unwilling to sell his land, he borrowed five taels of usury money from the Zou clan to pay his taxes. Half a month later, a manor steward named Zou Heihu led men to collect the debt, insisting that with principal and interest, the family owed thirteen taels—and payment had to be made in silver dollars.

Chen Ping'an naturally refused to acknowledge this and argued with them. Zou Heihu had brought over a dozen vicious servants armed with clubs, and without another word, they set to beating him. Counting his father and younger brother, Chen Ping'an's household had only three adult males—no match for them. They were soon knocked to the ground and beaten with clubs while his mother and sister wailed hysterically.

After the beating, Zou Heihu ordered his men to stop, spat out a few threats, and left with his crew.

Tragically, the father had suffered internal injuries from the beating and died two days later from his wounds. The mother fainted from grief several times.

In a fit of rage, Chen Ping'an filed a lawsuit against Zou Heihu at the county yamen.

Zou Heihu never even showed up, yet the County Magistrate ruled in his favor—not only transferring the Chen family's fields to the Zou clan, but also sentencing all four remaining members of the Chen household to slavery under the Zou family. The Chens had been well-off, and Chen Ping'an had studied some books. He knew the Ming Code explicitly prohibited compound interest on loans, and he cited the statute on the spot to plead his case. But the Ming was a country ruled by men, not law. The prefectural and county yamens were all controlled by the great clans, and no one gave a damn about the law. These prefectures and counties even dared to conceal matters from the Governor-General's office in Nanchang—let alone care about a single commoner.

The very Ming Code statute Chen Ping'an cited earned him twenty strokes of the bamboo from the County Magistrate instead.

That very night, Zou Heihu came with his men and dragged Chen Ping'an's entire family to the manor farm. Ignoring the injuries on Chen Ping'an and his brother, they were forced into the fields to work the very next day.

The most terrifying thing about Jiangxi was that tenant farmers counted as half-slaves, called "tenant bondsmen."

In Lin Qian's home prefecture, tenant farmers were legally registered as free commoners—they counted as people. If a master beat one to death, the authorities would at least symbolically investigate.

But in Jiangxi, tenant farmers were considered "talking livestock." Their masters held absolute power over their lives and deaths, with no consequences whatsoever.

From a comfortably well-off family to human livestock in the span of a mere half month—the Chen family could not accept such a fall. The mother and sister wept all day long, but it did no good.

For the great clans, even though they had gained land and slaves, the silver had still been spent. Silver flowing out with nothing flowing in would not do—a clan's silver was not infinite either. So they squeezed every last drop from their existing slaves with utmost cruelty.

The Chen family not only had to farm the Zou clan's fields, but also bore additional corvée labor.

Chen Ping'an's younger brother was assigned to go into the mountains to fell timber—an extremely dangerous job. Back when the Yongle Emperor was building the Beijing imperial palace, Sichuan had a folk song: "A thousand go into the mountains, five hundred come out." Half dying was simply the norm.

His brother went into the mountains twice and survived both times by luck. After the third trip, no word ever came back. Whether he was eaten by wild beasts or fell off a cliff to his death, no one could say. No last words. No belongings.

As if the man had never existed in this world at all.

Chen's mother went mad searching for answers, but the men under steward Zou Heihu naturally paid her no mind, and the fellow tenant bondsmen who had gone into the mountains could barely look after themselves—no one knew anything. Chen's mother wailed bitterly until she cried herself blind. The endless hauling of night soil, washing clothes, and weaving cloth wore her body out completely. That night she came down with a high fever, and the next day she was dead.

Chen Ping'an wanted to bury his mother beside his father's grave, but Zou Heihu saw him and said this was the master's land—no burials allowed.

Not only was his mother's body thrown into the mass grave pit to feed the wild dogs, but his father's bones were also dug up and tossed in the same place.

In less than a month, the once-happy family of five was reduced to just a brother and sister clinging to each other.

The mortality rate among the other tenant bondsmen was no better.

In normal years, buying a slave cost five to twenty taels of silver. Even for the sake of the money spent, the great clans wouldn't work their slaves to death.

But now, with the silver famine, the streets were full of people who couldn't survive and had to sell themselves into slavery. Those who had borrowed usury money were beyond counting. The cost of acquiring a new slave approached zero, while the cost of keeping one alive kept rising.

Because feeding a slave meant spending silver on grain—and during a silver famine, spending silver was a loss.

So the best method was to work the old slaves to death, toss the corpses into the mass grave pit, and bring in a fresh batch to do the labor.

Through this method, slaves were treated as consumables, gradually converted into silver, achieving the recovery of white silver.

By early June, not only in Ji'an and the other prefectures and counties where the great clans were based, but across nearly the entire province of Jiangxi, massive land annexation had occurred. Only then did Yuan Chonghuan, busy with troop deployments, realize with alarm that something was terribly wrong. He urgently summoned the clan patriarchs to Nanchang once again.

Just as Yuan Chonghuan was convening his meeting in a flurry of activity—

At the Zou clan's manor in Anfu County, Chen Ping'an took advantage of the dark moonless night to flee with his sister. Unfortunately, the manor kept hunting dogs and horses, and before dawn the two were caught by the slave-catching squad.

Chen Ping'an was beaten viciously, then buried alive.

Chen's sister had some looks, and was dragged into Zou Heihu's room.

The slave-catching squad dug a large pit before the mass grave mound, threw the half-crippled Chen Ping'an in, and began shoveling dirt.

The other three hundred tenant bondsmen, under Zou Heihu's orders, watched from the side. A few hundred paces away, Chen's sister's heart-rending screams drifted out from Zou Heihu's room. As shovelful after shovelful of earth filled the pit, numbness, fear, and fury intermingled in the bondsmen's eyes.

Chen Ping'an, pushed to the absolute limit, struggled ceaselessly and finally spat out the cloth gagging his mouth, crying out in a shrill wail: "Bury me today, and tomorrow they'll bury you! Brothers, death awaits either way — let's revolt!"

The vicious servant shoveling dirt beside him flew into a rage and struck Chen Ping'an across the head with his iron spade. With a dull clang, blood streamed down Chen Ping'an's face, washing through the mud caking it, making him look utterly ferocious.

While the vicious servant stood stunned, Chen Ping'an struggled to ram him with his head, catching him in the shin and sending him staggering. The servant flew into a fury and raised his spade to strike again — but the tenant laborers around them had been thoroughly ignited with rage.

The people of the Great Ming had always been famed for their endurance; so long as there was the faintest thread of a way to live, they could bear any grievance, suffering, or injustice.

But if there was not even a single thread of hope left, then when they fought with their lives on the line, their fighting power was utterly astonishing.

These tenant slaves were mostly covered in wounds, so starved they could barely walk, nearly half-dead — yet when they fought their enemies, punching, gouging eyes, and biting with their teeth, they were full of vigor.

The slave-catching squad was strong and sturdy, armed with clubs and iron spades, yet they found themselves no match. Soon someone had his throat bitten open, blood gushing like a spring, screaming in miserable agony. Within the time of a single meal, the slave-catching squad was wiped out to the last man, each dying a horrific death.

Chen Ping'an was dug out of the pit, and the ropes binding his hands and feet were cut.

Chen Ping'an picked up a steel blade from the slave-catching squad and strode toward Zou Heihu's house. The crowd stormed in with murderous momentum, only to find Chen Mei lying on the bed, naked, motionless, her neck covered in red marks — she had been strangled to death.

Zou Heihu was hiding under the bed, trembling in terror.

Two tenant slaves stepped forward and dragged Zou Heihu out. This estate steward, who ordinarily threw his weight around, was now curled into a ball of fear, begging for mercy: "She killed herself, it wasn't me! I'll take you to the Zou estate — the Zou family forced me to do it! My family is there too, I didn't want to—"

Before he could finish, a steel blade had already pierced clean through his body. Chen Ping'an pulled the blade out, blood splattering all over him. He looked like a man possessed by madness, hacking again and again into Zou Heihu's corpse.

The surrounding tenant laborers surged forward as well. Flesh pulp and bone fragments flew in every direction, and in no time at all Zou Heihu was reduced to a lump of minced meat.

After butchering Zou Heihu, the tenant laborers all felt lost and bewildered.

Someone asked: "What do we do now?"

"Maybe we should run!"

"We can't run!" Chen Ping'an said with reddened eyes. "If we run now, we'll be tenant slaves and vagrants for the rest of our lives. Let's fight our way into the Zou estate!" "Right, let's go burn the tenancy contracts!" someone shouted in response.

Along the way, tenant slaves who heard that the group was going to storm the estate and burn the contracts joined in one after another, and the ranks swelled ever larger.

By the time Zou Depu returned from Nanchang, he discovered that the Zou estate had been reduced to ashes — all three hundred and some members of his household, men and women, old and young alike, had turned to flying ash together with the land deeds and tenancy contracts.

An eight-hundred-year great clan destroyed in a single morning — Zou Depu could not withstand such a blow and immediately collapsed unconscious.

News of the Zou clan's annihilation at the hands of tenant slaves spread like wildfire through Jiangxi, and before long, servants of all the great clans rose up in response.

Within a few days, the Zuo and Ouyang clans among the Five Great Clans were also wiped out. The great clans of Jiangxi were now gripped by utter terror.

After slaughtering their masters' households, the various tenant-slave rebel armies, having gone this far, decided to go all the way — seizing prefectures and counties across Jiangxi and declaring themselves kings. Others, keeping clear heads, marched southeast, preparing to throw in their lot with the Nan'ao army.

The cataclysm in Jiangxi had lasted barely over a month, yet the ferocity of the uprising and the brutality of its methods far exceeded Yuan Chonghuan's expectations — even Lin Qian was deeply shocked.

In the Great Ming, horses, carriages, and letters all moved at a leisurely pace, and everything was measured in years and months. No one imagined the Jiangxi uprising could spread with such prairie-fire momentum. If troops were not dispatched soon, Jiangxi was bound to become a living hell on earth.

The General Staff ordered Lei Sanxiang to serve as Regional Commander, leading thirty thousand new troops out through the Meiguan Pass road toward Ganzhou, formally opening hostilities against Yuan Chonghuan. The Nan'ao army raised the banner of "Burn the contracts, cast off slave status," and wherever they went, prefectures and counties surrendered in succession — recreating the grand spectacle of the earlier campaign against Guangdong and Guangxi, when every region capitulated upon receiving the proclamation.

Within days, Lei Sanxiang had taken Nan'an Prefecture, Longyan County, and Dingnan County, with his spearhead aimed directly at Ganzhou.

If Ganzhou fell, the entire southern Gan region would fall into Nan'ao's hands, the northern gate of Jiangxi would be thrown wide open, and Fujian and Guangdong would be linked into one continuous stretch — Yuan Chonghuan's strategy of "stationing troops in Jiangxi to keep Fujian and Guangdong from supporting each other" would become nothing but empty words on paper.

By then, forget pacifying the rebellion in five years — merely holding Jiangxi for five years would be a luxury.

Thus cornered with no way out, Yuan Chonghuan had no choice but to personally lead his main army into Ganzhou to face off against Lei Sanxiang.

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen