Chapter 402: The Lake Bandits Advance

After hearing Scholar Mao's battle analysis, everyone present grew even more excited: the entire port was wide open, with only that one two-story stone tower as a tough nut to crack — the rest of the area wasn't worth worrying about. For bandits who held the advantage in numbers and the advantage of a surprise attack, this was just a matter of charging in and steamrolling through.

Niu Jinluo of the Chaohu Gang traced a few lines on the map with his finger, then turned his head toward a brawny, red-faced middle-aged man beside him and asked, "What does Master Qiao think?"

Qiao Shiqi, the "cast-off son" of the great Huqiu Qiao Family, was the chief of the Shuihuo Gang, formed from Taihu natives.

Hearing Niu Jinluo's question, Qiao Shiqi did not answer directly. Instead, he turned to someone behind him and said, "Lao Wu, come up front and explain things to the shopkeepers."

At Qiao Shiqi's words, an old man around forty, his face covered in stubble, squeezed his way to the front of the platform.

This man was an old acquaintance of the Transmigrators, named Wu Meng. People used to call him Wu Sanye. The commercial district outside the port that everyone could see on the map now — that had been Third Lord's territory before.

Later, after Third Lord was forcibly demolished by Master Xiong, he tried to become a nail household and was beaten so badly he lost men and troops, his life hanging by a thread at any minute. So Third Lord took his brothers and escaped to Taihu, and now he served as a headman in the Shuihuo Gang.

After taking his place at the front, Third Lord, a man who knew how to work a crowd, first made a circular cupped-hand salute to everyone, then began pointing at the map and supplementing it with details about the port for the group. For example, the exact location of the river docks, the best route for charging through the commercial district, the fact that the Port Authority's compound wall had a back gate so the entire wall needed to be surrounded at the first moment, and so on...

Wu Sanye, whose soul was bound to his homeland, was probably the one Ming Native who had always cared most about the development of Shanghai Port. One could tell from the way he laid out every detail of the port's inner workings, no matter how trivial, that Third Lord had likely planted more than one spy inside the port.

At the very end, Third Lord also solemnly pointed out a key part of Scholar Mao's earlier arrangement: simply covering the mouth, ears, and nose was largely useless against the poison smoke firecrackers thrown by the port guards. If one stayed in the smoke just a little too long, the victim's eyes would still stream with tears, rendering them unable to see, and they would cough violently, left helpless to be slaughtered.

After hearing Third Lord's tactical additions, Qiao Shiqi, the boss of the Shuihuo Gang, cast a smug glance around the room, then chuckled and said, "I won't hide it from all you brothers — that port has long been in the Shuihuo Gang's bag. But since the masters have spoken this time, I'll take you all along for the ride. There's just one thing: when we split the silver afterward, the Shuihuo Gang takes an extra ten percent!"

The moment Qiao Shiqi finished speaking, the short, stocky Niu Jinluo beside him burst out laughing. "Silver this, silver that — do you even have a clue how much silver is actually in that Port Affairs Office?"

Hearing Niu Jinluo's provocative words, Qiao Shiqi didn't get angry. The Chaohu Gang and the Shuihuo Gang were old rivals going back years; the two sides had tangled and tripped each other up countless times, so a few verbal potshots meant nothing. Qiao Shiqi shot back, "Scholar Mao just said it — four hundred thousand taels of silver. Unless you can magically conjure up some more?"

"Heh heh, who says I can't conjure some up?" Niu Jinluo raised both arms, clapped twice, then gestured for the men behind him to make way.

The person who squeezed through was an old man. His age was unclear — somewhere around forty or fifty — his face a map of deep wrinkles, his hands covered in thick calluses, dark-skinned with graying hair, dressed in rags from head to toe, walking with a slouching, loose gait, his face full of misery and worry, the very picture of a coolie who hauled loads for a living year-round.

Yet many people present recognized this old man: the Grain Office Manager of the Chaohu Gang, the lake bandit with the highest seniority, the old lifelong thief Zhong Siqian.

After entering, Zhong Siqian wasted no words. He raised his hand and made a six-figure gesture. "These past few days, that Port Affairs Office has been shipping everything out. The merchants from all over have stuffed no less than six hundred fifty thousand taels of silver into the cellar. Minus the fifty thousand they shipped out on a fast ship the day before yesterday, as of yesterday before I came back, the silver count was still six hundred thousand taels!"

As Zhong Siqian spoke to this point, his old farmer's face had long since transformed into the standard, vicious expression of a bandit. "I've been doing odd jobs right in the Port Affairs Office yard these past few days. Not a single tael of silver could escape these eyes of mine... Six hundred thousand taels, no less, all in big ingots of snowflake silver. That Port Affairs Office found small silver too much trouble and wouldn't even accept broken bits — which made it damn convenient for me to keep the books!"

"Ssss..." At Zhong Siqian's decisive words, a wave of sharp intakes of breath swept through the room. Never mind the headmen — even the Grand Steward's eyes began to blaze with greedy flames.

Niu Jinluo let out a long, sinister laugh. "Don't think your family's the only one with eyes on that port. A place flowing with gold and silver — you think your old man here is blind? That bullshit about taking an extra ten percent — don't ever bring it up again!"

With that, Niu Jinluo boldly pulled a hard pack of Yellow Crane Tower cigarettes from his bosom, drew out two, handed one to Zhong Siqian, then flicked a Zippo and began puffing away smugly, blowing smoke rings.

The atmosphere in the room fell into awkwardness for a moment.

*Smack! * A painted folding fan of mottled bamboo was slammed heavily onto the Buddha altar. "Outrageous! What time do you think this is, and you're all still here putting on airs and playing games? Do you really think the masters can't deal with you?"

The one cursing furiously was an old man beside Scholar Mao. This old man was short and stout, with a round face, round eyes, and a round nose — he looked rather jovial. He wore a soft-foot head wrap and, like Scholar Mao, was dressed in a blue robe, clearly also of scholar background.

This old scholar's surname was Shi, and people called him Shi Weng. This gentleman held very high seniority among the lake bandits; he was a sitting tiger of the older generation, specializing in receiving stolen goods, fencing them, acting as a middleman, and collecting and releasing ransom hostages.

Later, as Shi Weng grew older, he began reducing his operations, gradually distancing himself from the underworld and moving into top-level circles, becoming a white glove and high-level broker for certain gentry.

The fact that Shi Weng, who had long since stopped concerning himself with underworld affairs, had been dispatched here showed just how important this raid on the port was.

At this moment, the old scholar's round face was etched with ferocity, making him look both comical and sinister. "You worthless bastards, listen up: this job involves the big picture, and it's tied to major thresholds. Even those masters behind you have to follow orders!"

The old scholar spoke to this point and locked eyes fiercely with Qiao Shiqi. "What, does the Huqiu Qiao Family not want to go on living? Believe me when I say tomorrow I'll charge you with the capital crime of harboring bandits and have your entire clan executed?!"

Hearing this, Qiao Shiqi's face flushed a deep, stifled red. Before long, he turned his face away from the short old man, no longer daring to meet his gaze.

"Hmph. Yu Chaofeng of Guangfu Town, Squire Ma of Zhenhu, Du Laohu of Xiangshan, hmm, and the Huqiu Qiao Family. Don't think the great men don't know — you're nothing but a bunch of local snakes feeding on stolen goods and colluding with the Hufei. In the eyes of those major thresholds, you're all clay chickens and pottery dogs, crushed with a flick of a finger!"

"All of you prick up your ears and listen well. On this job, if any family disregards the greater good and gets any ideas about sabotaging things, when the great men strike, they'll pull you up by the roots — first they'll raid the ones behind you who fence the goods, then they'll put out wanted orders on both sides of the law and let you all die together in the pond mud!"

... After this torrent of abuse, the chief headmen were instantly terrified into silence. Wherever the old scholar's eyes swept, every one of them lost their ferocious air, hurriedly lowering their heads to avoid that fierce, sharp gaze, their mouths saying, "We beg Shi Weng to take charge. We have absolutely no objections."

Seeing that the room was under control, the old scholar called Shi Weng finally softened a little and began assigning tasks. "Since Wu San knows the inside situation, Qiao Shiqi will be in command this time. But the profit split will still follow the old rules — you three big gangs split sixty percent equally, and the rest of the gangs together split forty percent! Anyone have anything to say?"

At this moment, the bandits raised no further objections and roared their assent.

And Qiao Shiqi, who had just been appointed overall commander, also began issuing orders. "Those guards have quick-firing guns and poison smoke firecrackers. That being the case, brothers, we have no choice but to use speed to overcome their slowness — a sudden, violent ambush in the night, charging into the Port Affairs building and fighting them to the death, with not a moment's delay."

After casting a glance around and seeing everyone nod in agreement with this strategy, Qiao Shiqi continued in a deep voice. "For this battle, we only need elite troops who dare to charge and fight to the death. Leave behind all that rabble who just follow along and shout battle cries. In my view, the total force will be eight hundred men. The three big gangs will provide five hundred, and the remaining three hundred you other gangs can divide among yourselves."

"By dusk tomorrow, each gang's Great Boss will bring their elite troops and assemble at Three Mountains. We'll set out when it's dark."

"Good!"

"That's more like it!"

"I'll go back and pick my men right now, brothers!"

After Qiao Shiqi finished assigning tasks, the leaders of each gang nodded in agreement one after another, then dispersed to go back and make their own preparations.

Just then, Shi Weng's cold, sinister voice came from behind everyone. "No infighting. Anyone who hears the order and doesn't charge — when you come back, you'll all be planting lotus flowers together."

The next evening, ten large black-canopied boats gathered punctually at Three Mountains Island, then set out one by one.

It was now the 17th century. The entire Jiangnan region was densely crisscrossed with waterways, and the various great lakes had not yet been filled in and built over into districts, so the ten boats could take countless water routes from Taihu to the Huangpu River.

After the fleet left Taihu, it followed the Xu River all the way to Shihu Lake.

Upon reaching Shihu Lake, several boats that had been waiting there early surrounded them. These boats were all guide ships sent by the Land Deed Alliance, with guides holding name cards waiting on board.

At this point, to reduce their profile, the fleet split into two and each went its own way. One team took the northern route from Duxie Lake to the Wusong River, while the other team took the southern route from Lingshan Lake to the Huangpu River.

The inland rivers in winter were calm and still. Piloted by these lifelong Hufei, the two fleets sailed steadily through the night. The next morning, the fleets successively crossed the main channel of the Huangpu River, rounded Lujiazui, and slipped in through the Yangjingbang Canal, famous in later generations, heading all the way toward Shanghai Port, which lay along the shore of what later generations would call Gaoqiao Town.

After many twists and turns along the way, by early afternoon, the fleet finally moored in a lake over twenty li from the port.

This lake, ringed with reeds, was the private property of a nearby estate. As for the estate's owner, needless to say, it was some gentry master.

Not long after the fleet stopped, several boats took turns sailing over, loaded with prepared meals — pork, mutton — not only sumptuous but all-you-could-eat.

Large numbers of lake bandits now crawled out of the cabins to eat and get some fresh air. Meanwhile, the headmen, with their trusted aides, patrolled ceaselessly, keeping these unruly subordinates in check — no shouting, no drinking, no leaving the boats, only sleeping allowed.

At the same time, every half-hour, scouts lying in ambush around the port would come running to report on the enemy's situation: everything was normal, the guards inside the port were very lax, strolling about in twos and threes.

By the time the main force had finished its rest and reorganization by the lakeside, night had also fallen.