Chapter 13: Preparing for War and Famine

Zhou Tong rose and began pacing at this. The others said nothing. The great hall fell silent, save for the sound of footsteps going back and forth.

After a moment, Zhou Tong stopped, sat back down, his face dark. He said loudly, "Bai Shouhu must have taken some aphrodisiac. We only fought it out two months ago, and now he's stirring up trouble again. Hmph. Whatever that bastard's scheming, we get our payback first. Two brothers dead — there's no letting this slide."

At this, Zhou Tong's gaze sharpened considerably. He turned to look at Chen Huoding. The latter shot to his feet. "I'll take men down the mountain right now. I'll make those bastards pay!"

Zhou Tong said sternly, "Listen well. First take forty men down the mountain and get a firm foothold in Hengtang. Post lookouts far out. These next few days, kill any White Village man you see, but don't cross the boundary — watch out for ambushes. The rest stay here to guard the mountain. I'll send you more men in a couple of days. Also, take two loads of the sea salt the gentleman brought. Feeding several dozen men is no small expense."

Chen Huoding clasped his fist. "Understood."

Zhou Tong then looked at Chu Jianli. "Send men to the back of the mountain with word. Have them all send people to guard the mountain. Bring rice and game to trade for salt."

Chu Jianli also rose, clasped his fist and assented. Zhou Tong then looked at Lü Wenda. "Accountant, open the stores and issue salt and rice. When you have a moment, go check on the wounded. I'll take men personally to retrieve and lay out the bodies."

Zhou Tong finished assigning tasks. The several men filed out to handle their affairs. Cao Chuan's stomach had settled just a little by now. He stood and cupped his hands to Zhou Tong. "Since the stronghold has matters to attend to, this poor Daoist would only be in the way staying here. I'll go do my lessons."

Zhou Tong hadn't expected Cao Chuan to be of any help anyway. Inviting him to listen in was merely courtesy. With pressing matters at hand, they exchanged a few polite words and bid farewell.

Cao Chuan followed them out. The area before the door was already a chaotic mess — men shouting, others giving pre-battle pep talks, a scene of bustling commotion. Head lowered, he skirted around the two corpses and walked silently toward his own hut.

Twenty meters from his hilltop hut, his stomach finally rebelled. Cao Chuan hugged a tree and vomited violently. Fortunately, everyone was down the mountain at this hour, so he didn't need to hold back. Afterward, he felt much better. Swaying, he entered the hut, scooped some water to rinse his mouth, and collapsed onto the bed.

Just before noon, he had been in a state of supreme self-satisfaction. To borrow a line: before long, sell stone and strike it rich, become chief of the whole fraternity, take office as Chief Designer, guide lost bandits, and stride toward the pinnacle of life. In truth, Cao Zong had been very worked up these past two days.

Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that before his grand enterprise even launched, two mangled, bloody corpses would make him vomit.

The wide world, no scruples, cut down whomever you want — it was from this moment that Cao Chuan truly made contact with the real face of this world.

"I was thinking of this Great Ming too simplistically." His body was unwell, but his mind was unusually clear. Jolted by today's events, he realized that being a local tyrant in the Great Ming was probably not so easy. There was an issue he hadn't paid much attention to before, but which was actually crucial, that needed to be resolved first: the question of armed force.

He tossed and turned, his thoughts a jumbled mess, and drifted hazily into a deep sleep. When he woke and pulled out his phone to check, it was already five in the afternoon. He felt much better after getting up, though there was still a faint, stabbing pain in his stomach.

Thinking about it was rather funny. Back when he was on set, which film didn't see him die a few times? Yet today, one encounter with real corpses and he folded. Was this karma?

He opened the door. A crisp mountain breeze blew in. He took a breath of fresh air, stood in the doorway gazing out for a while, then bellowed at the bamboo hut not far below: "Zhao Si!"

Zhao Si came running out at the sound. Seeing Cao Chuan standing at a high spot waiting for him, he scampered up with a grin and made a show of cupping his hands. "The gentleman has instructions?"

Cao Chuan gave an "mm" and asked, "What are the several chiefs up to?"

"The Great Lord and Third Lord are burying people behind the mountain. The Accountant is brewing medicine for the wounded."

Cao Chuan nodded. Since everyone was busy, it was best not to disturb them.

But then he found he had nothing to do himself. So he had Zhao Si lead him on a stroll all around the mountain to familiarize himself with the terrain. Only when the sky began to darken did he plan to return to his room. Zhao Si turned to go fetch him food from the kitchen, but Cao Chuan held him back and gave a word of instruction: "I've got some indigestion today. I'd like something light — just plain vegetables and thin congee will do."

With no evening entertainment, he went to bed early. The night passed in a whoosh. In the morning, he called Zhao Si up to ask and learned that Zhou Tong and the others were all out patrolling the mountain and posting sentries. Cao Chuan didn't go disturb them. It wasn't until afternoon that he finally saw Zhou Tong and Chu Jianli at Green Stone Terrace.

Chu Jianli seemed a bit ill at ease seeing him, probably having only just now figured out his background. Cao Chuan smiled and paid it no mind. He directly asked Zhou Tong what the deal with White Village was — coming over for no good reason to hack people up.

Zhou Tong said it was a long story, but since the gentleman wished to hear it, he would tell him a tale of old times today.

Going east down the mountain from Pingfeng Stronghold for a bit over thirty li, you reach White Village. It sits right between Pingfeng Stronghold and Lin'an County Town. The head of White Village is called Bai Shouhu. That whole crew specializes in the un-capitaled trades of the Edo. Within a hundred li, this White Village counts as the number one scourge.

Seeing the slight upward curl of Cao Chuan's mouth, Zhou Tong understood what Cao Chuan meant — you, a bandit chief, have the nerve to call someone else a scourge?

Zhou Tong chuckled, then turned and had the Third Shopkeeper continue the explanation for Cao Chuan.

Chu Jianli looked like a merchant, and he spoke like a merchant too — articulate and persuasive. After his rundown, Cao Chuan gained a fair understanding of the local situation.

This White Family Estate had been passed down to Bai Shouhu over several generations. Previously, they were no different from the local thugs and old wealth around here — taking on tenant farmers, collecting rent, occasionally fleecing a passing merchant or two for some extra income. Compared to Pingfeng Stronghold in earlier years, White Manor could be considered a gentle, goodly household.

Who knew the heavens would be so unkind. These past years, floods came one after another, and drought followed the floods. Zhexi is mountainous country. Once the mountain floods swept through, the hillside fields were ruined, and some tenant farmers were even washed away. Year after year like this, White Manor went steadily downhill.

Misfortunes never come singly. A few years ago, the White Family was struck by plague. The old Master Bai and his wife died of illness. The eldest son, Bai Shouhu, took over the family estate at twenty-eight. The second son also died of illness. The third son, Bai Shouye, then vanished without a trace.

After this White Chairman took office, he drew lessons from the pain and promptly decided to shift the business direction. Industry was hard, so they switched to distribution. Simply put, they abandoned those few thin fields and everyone became highwaymen and road bullies.

White Manor was close to the official road, a prime geographic location. After the White Chairman changed trades, he recruited desperadoes, dismissed the tenant farmers, liaised with various small greenwood enterprises, set up roadblocks, kidnapped for ransom, and engaged in forced buying and selling. The un-capitaled business soared. In just a few short years, the transformation was a success. White Manor vaulted to become a locally renowned toll station with over a hundred core business operatives and seven or eight wanted-list specialists.

Ironically, the original old-brand toll station, Pingfeng Stronghold, had also successfully transformed in recent years under Zhou Tong's leadership, becoming a local-products processing enterprise mainly exporting mountain tea, medicinal herbs, and dried bamboo shoots.

The situation had now completely flipped. These past few years, the White Family bandit gang had been robbing merchant travelers, kidnapping for ransom, and trafficking private salt, committing crimes frequently along the surrounding road sections. For a time, their notoriety was unmatched.