Chapter 742: The Butcher's Blade Asserts Authority Over Xiazhou, Land Equalization Secures the People's Hearts

"These hundred‑year aristocratic ornaments are only for show," Gao Jiong slowly wiped the blood‑stained dagger on a snow‑white cloth, his eyes lingering on the blade's cold gleam, "When real swords and guns appear, they don't even have the bone‑and‑blood to stand up and shoulder the matter."

A nearby embroidered envoy lowered his head and stepped forward to hand a clean silk handkerchief.

"Lord's lesson is that these so‑called aristocratic lords, though they ruthlessly exploit the peasants daily, become more cowardly than chicks when they see the knives of our Mingjing Office."

Gao Jiong casually tossed the stained cloth onto the face of Wang Huairen, who was still convulsing in a pool of blood.

"Keeping that tongue will only bring trouble to this officer," Gao Jiong stepped on Wang Huairen's cheek and forced it into the mud, "Go to the underworld and learn how to argue with King Yama!"

Wang Huairen let out a garbled, painful wail from his throat.

From the tongue‑less void, dark‑red froth continuously overflowed; he flailed his hands desperately, trying to grab Gao Jiong's hem, but was kicked away.

The Wang Shi Clan Members kneeling around the courtyard all wore expressionless faces.

A few female relatives were so frightened they wet their silk skirts on the spot; their wailing cries were forcibly stifled in their throats, turning into desperate sobs.

Gao Jiong turned and sheathed the dagger back into its scabbard at his waist.

"Take this old thing and leave it outside," Gao Jiong adjusted his black soft‑armor wristguard, "There are still so many eyes out there waiting to see the joke of our Zongguan Fu."

The embroidered envoy immediately stepped forward, braced on both sides, and dragged the already limp Wang Huairen outward, pulling a shocking trail of blood across the Qingshi slab.

Below the tall fence surrounding the manor, the area was already packed with Andi from various factions and the bold Xiazhou townsfolk.

Everyone held their breath, focusing, waiting for the moment the Zhuqi Daimen opened.

The heavy wooden door was slowly pushed open amid a grinding sound that made one's teeth ache.

Gao Jiong, stepping in his blood‑stained leather boots, strode to the edge of the steps.

He shook open from his coat a long sheepskin scroll bearing the Zongguan Fu Blood Red Great Seal, his cold gaze sweeping over the skittish crowd below.

"Wang Huairen concealed fertile lands, defied military orders, Secret Communication with Enemy State, plotting rebellion; the crime is unforgivable!" Gao Jiong raised the scroll high, each word dripping with a chilling intent to gut alive, "Chen Zhuguo orders: today the Wang Shi clan shall be subjected to Torture Extreme Punishment as a warning!"

The aristocratic scouts hiding behind the crowd, upon hearing the words Secret Communication with Enemy State, each had their calves cramp in terror.

Everyone knows that once this charge is applied, even nine generations will face the catastrophic fate of being exhumed and erased.

Before the crowd could recover from the verdict, Lu Ming lifted the limp Wang Huairen, who looked like a torn sack, and stepped out from the threshold.

"That old brute was just now thinking of crawling through a dog hole to escape," Lu Ming hurled Wang Huairen heavily onto the rough stone slab below the steps, "I think keeping those two legs is just a waste of provisions!"

Lu Ming lifted the immensely heavy Iron‑Headed Leather Boots and stomped down hard on Wang Huairen's knee bone.

The crisp sound of bone shattering exploded across the deathly silent street.

Wang Huairen's already shattered body jolted violently, and he fell completely unconscious.

Gao Jiong stared at the blood‑smeared, flesh‑blurred corpse below the steps, then turned to the lined‑up embroidered envoys and issued the final cleansing order.

"All members of the Wang Family Main Line are to be locked in the death cell for execution after autumn; all collateral clan members are to be shackled and dispatched to the border for forced service," Gao Jiong spoke at breakneck speed, leaving no room for hesitation, "All land deeds, gold, silver, and provisions seized from the manor are to be seized on the spot and taken over by Zongguan Fu."

Several embroidered envoys carried a three‑zhang‑tall massive Wooden Plaque to the door, swung a hammer and nailed the Wang Family's treason letters together with the Crime List to the most conspicuous spot.

The sound of the hammer striking the iron nails was like a series of Summoning Death Talismans, striking the hearts of all Andi.

"Hurry back and report to the family head," a scout drenched in cold sweat whispered, tugging his companion's sleeve as they retreated, "Chen Yan intends to exterminate completely; if we don't submit, we'll meet the same fate as the Wang Family."

The news spread like wings, reaching every street and alley of Xiazhou City in less than half a day.

In the study of the Zhao family's grand mansion in Chengxi, the brazier burned brightly.

The Zhao family head, flustered, tossed a thick stack of Secret Letters into the fire, his shaking hand unable to even grasp the envelopes.

"Father, what are you doing?" the Da Young Master (Young Master) of the Zhao family, still unaware of the outside turmoil, shouted to intervene, "These are the evidence we gathered with other families to impeach Chen Yan!"

"Shut your filthy mouth," the Zhao family head slapped his son, drawing blood from the corner of his mouth, "The Wang family has been wiped out; do you still want to send our Zhao family to the execution platform as well!"

The Zhao family head grabbed the tongs, turned the letters in the brazier, burning them completely to ash, then turned and shouted angrily at the trembling steward.

"Immediately go to the storeroom and bring out all the ledgers; tomorrow morning go to Zongguan Fu and voluntarily hand over the hidden fields," the Zhao family head collapsed onto the Grand Master's Chair, panting heavily, "And those branch families that cause trouble on the streets daily, all must have their legs broken according to family law and be thrown to the countryside to farm."

"Sir, this will cut the foundation of our family," the steward knelt on the ground, his face weeping, "How much more tax will that require!"

"Keeping our heads is already good enough; Chen Yan, that living King Yama, doesn't play by any rules," the Zhao family head said despairingly, closing his eyes, "Anyone who dares to act against the wind now is courting death."

All the aristocratic families hurriedly emulated this arm‑severing survival measure through the night.

Those troublemaking youths who originally intended to rally Private Soldiers against the Land Equalization Decree were having their limbs broken on the spot—or even beaten to death—by their own elders, solely to demonstrate unwavering loyalty to Zongguan Fu.

The biggest stumbling block was kicked aside, and Zhang Wenqian immediately led a massive civil official team to take up residence in the seized Wang Family estate.

He led a squad of Cha Yi bearing iron chains and shackles along the Field Ridge, flipping through the newly registered ledger in his hand.

"The Wang Family has hidden a full ten thousand mu of prime paddy fields," Zhang Wenqian closed the ledger and handed it to the clerk beside him, "These Bloodsucking Parasites have been sucking the blood of Xiazhou's people for a hundred years; now they finally spit out both principal and profit."

The clerk lifted his brush and rapidly recorded the verified numbers on the bamboo slip.

"Lord, with Lord Gao and General Lu's deterrence, this surveying work proceeded so smoothly that not even a landlord dared to gasp loudly,"

Zhang Wenqian walked to a Boundary Monument and halted.

"Return and inform the Grand Preceptor that the Wang Family's land holdings have been fully inventoried," Zhang Wenqian turned to instruct the Cha Yi, "Immediately notify the Liuren outside the city and the families of the Zongguan Fu soldiers; tomorrow, a sacrificial altar will be set up in Cheng Nan to hold the Land Distribution Ceremony."

The next morning, the open space in Cheng Nan was already a sea of people; tens of thousands of Liuren and townsfolk had crowded the makeshift platform so tightly that it was impassable.

Zhang Wenqian, dressed in a tidy official uniform, stood at the very center of the platform, with several large camphor wood boxes filled with new land deeds placed behind him.

Chen Yan did not appear in person, but sat in a carriage at a distance, quietly watching the scene through the window.

"All fellow villagers, please listen quietly as this officer reads the Grand Preceptor's edict," Zhang Wenqian pressed his hands down to quell the crowd's clamor, "Your recent toil in digging canals and clearing land has not gone unnoticed by the Grand Preceptor."

Zhang Wenqian walked to the camphor wood box, personally lifted the lid, revealing a deed covered with a Red Eye‑catching Seal.

"From today, these once‑occupied fertile fields belong to you," Zhang Wenqian seized a bundle of land deeds and raised them high, "This is the Grand Preceptor's grant for your livelihood; as long as you work hard, Xiazhou will be your home."

Hearing this, several gray‑haired old farmers in the front row widened their cloudy eyes in disbelief.

"Oh Great Lord of the Blue Sky, our ancestors have served those wealthy families, working as cattle and horses, barely getting enough to eat," the old farmer knelt in the mud and wailed, "Grand Preceptor, you are a living Bodhisattva reborn who saved the lives of our entire families!"

Thousands upon thousands of commoners followed the old farmer, kneeling on both knees.

They buried their heads deep into the Huangtu, their scorching tears freely streaming over their weather‑worn faces.

"Grand Preceptor, ten thousand years!"

"Chen Zhuguo, ten thousand years!"

The earth‑shaking, sky‑shaking cries gathered in the sky beyond the city, forming a wave that surged like a mountain‑toppling tide.

The hearts of the lowest class, at this moment, solidified into an indestructible, peerless butcher's blade, firmly grasped in Chen Yan's palm.

Yet beyond this jubilant scene, the Zeng Clan Fortress east of Tongwan City, whose grounds far exceed those of the Wang family, was shrouded by a layer of oppressive gloom.

Zeng Bo, clan chief of the Zeng Clan, stood on the three‑zhang‑tall watchtower of the fortress, his gaze passing over the city wall to watch the grandeur of the Land Distribution Ceremony in the distance.

Zeng Bo's younger brother Ceng Lin hurriedly climbed the stone steps to the watchtower, clutching a piece of fresh intelligence in his hand.

"Brother, we can't hesitate any longer; the Wang family's tens of thousands of mu have already been ripped up and given to those lowborn," Ceng Lin, sweating profusely, grabbed Zeng Bo's arm. "That Chen's appetite will never be satisfied; his next target is surely our Zeng family."

Zeng Bo did not turn his head, but simply loosened the fingers that had been gripping the blue bricks of the city wall.

"What are you so nervous about," Zeng Bo said, his tone unusually calm, "those idiots blinded by hatred haven't even seen the opponent's hidden cards yet they dare to jump out and bite, Wang Huairen's death was not unjust at all."

"Our fortress hides thousands of elite private soldiers and enough provisions to last ten years," Ceng Lin raised his voice in frustration, "Even if we fight to the death, we still won't reap any good fruit."

Zeng Bo turned, delivered a heavy backhand slap to Ceng Lin's face.

"Open the central gate immediately, bring everything from the cellar— all the provisions and land deeds— into the courtyard," Zeng Bo's eyes flashed with deep resolve, "Today I'm going to gamble the Zeng family's hundred‑year clan fate."

Ceng Lin, clutching his reddened, swollen cheek, stood stunned in place.

The Zeng Clan's drastic, all‑or‑nothing move—whether to spark a larger rebellion or to brew a staggering scheme beyond ordinary eyes— left the entire Xiazhou situation hanging by a thread once again.