Chapter 6: He Is a Professional

"Useless trash!"

General Er Zhu Rong gathered all the disciples of the General Er Zhu clan together and gave them a thorough dressing-down.

Li Shuang walked over holding a skewer of lamb, saw General Er Zhu Zhao and the others standing before General Er Zhu Rong like a bunch of chicks, and took a bite of his lamb skewer.

This place, Southern Xiurong, could be said to be remote and desolate, but it had one merit—beef and mutton in unlimited supply.

What the General Er Zhu family lacked in everything else, they did not lack in cattle and sheep.

"Second Brother, what's going on?"

General Er Zhu Rong had perhaps grown tired of lecturing, or perhaps caught the aroma of the lamb skewer in Li Shuang's hand, and sat back down in his chair.

"What are you eating? Bring me one too!"

Li Shuang sat down beside General Er Zhu Rong and handed the skewer over.

At this moment, General Er Zhu Zhao began to speak up in his own defense.

"Uncle, this isn't my fault. Of the tribes around us, which one didn't live with blood on the blade? The court wants us to collect grain and money from them—how could that possibly be easy?"

"And you have the nerve to say that. The garrison troops at Take Pingcheng demand money and grain from us, and if we miss the deadline, that's a crime punishable by the confiscation of our property and the extermination of our clan."

Hearing this, General Er Zhu Zhao was greatly indignant.

"Those useless trash have no skill against Han Baling, but when it comes to bullying us, they have plenty of tricks!"

General Er Zhu Rong's face darkened. What General Er Zhu Zhao had said was also what was on his own mind. Only, General Er Zhu Rong was deep and calculating, and did not let it show.

"I thought it was something serious. Isn't it just a matter of money and grain?"

The moment Li Shuang opened his mouth, the dark look on General Er Zhu Rong's face instantly melted away.

"Does Third Brother have a way?"

"Leave it to me. No problem."

General Er Zhu Rong nodded and gave instructions to General Er Zhu Zhao.

"You go along with your Third Uncle. Serve him carefully."

As they were leaving, General Er Zhu Rong added one more instruction.

"Oh, Third Brother, when you go to the nearby tribes, don't use a Han surname. Take a Xianbei surname, to save trouble!"

With the military clique centered on Take Pingcheng in decline, the vast majority of Hu Ren left behind to Defend the Northern Frontier had fallen into poverty. By contrast, those Hu Ren who had moved earlier to Luoyang were thriving.

The noble Hu Ren in the city of Luoyang had banded together with the great Han clans and begun to look down on their own kinsmen, regarding them as "country bumpkins"!

On top of that, with the Northern Wei court's successive military defeats to the south and to the north in recent years, the Hu Ren left behind in the northern frontier naturally came to believe that it was precisely sinicization that had caused the Northern Wei to lose its Wu De, and so they bitterly hated the Han people and all things Han.

"A Xianbei surname?" Li Shuang laughed. "I'm not familiar with those either!"

General Er Zhu Rong bit all the meat off the lamb skewer in his hand in one go and muttered.

"Then let's call you Daye—Da Ye Shuang!"

General Er Zhu Zhao was deeply displeased with this youngster before him who was younger than himself yet of a higher generation.

In his eyes, martial might was the sole foundation that decided everything.

General Er Zhu Zhao actually shared the same view as the vast majority of Hu Ren in the northern frontier.

It was the Han people and sinicization that had caused the Northern Wei court's degeneration.

If the Han way truly worked, how had they lost this splendid Jiangshan in the first place and fled south of the Yangtze?

Therefore, when it came to Li Shuang, General Er Zhu Zhao had no trust in him at all.

If even an old hand from Southern Xiurong like him could not get the job done, how could a Han man possibly succeed?

"Third Uncle, can you really do it?"

Li Shuang saw General Er Zhu Zhao's doubt and distrust clearly, but he did not mind.

While a few Qihu horse-servants were preparing the horses, Li Shuang asked:

"Which one around here is the hardest to deal with, the biggest troublemaker?"

"That would have to be Qifu Moyu!"

"Well, that's quite the coincidence."

"What coincidence?"

"Don't ask so many questions. Bring the ceremonial staff granted by the court and the secretary under Big Brother's command, and follow me!"

……

If General Er Zhu Rong and Hearing Yuan Tianmu were sinicized Hu Ren, then Qifu Moyu was a Hu Ren of the revivalist variety.

Hair worn loose and robes lapped to the left, dirty braids, dressed in Hu fur, not bathing for the better part of a year, spending every day gathered with his men in the great tent—either drinking or playing with women, or else riding out to hunt and raid for plunder.

After the prestige of the Luoyang court had plummeted following the Battle of Zhongli, the southern incursion of the Rouran, and the Revolt of the Liuzhen, many tribes in the northern frontier took to playing at revivalism—understandable as a Xianbei version of rednecks.

Their daily slogan was "Make Xianbei Great Again!"

As for how to be great, of course it meant recovering the fine old traditions of the original Xianbei!

Look at those degenerate new Xianbei in Luoyang—aping the Han people with their pretensions to refinement, living in great mansions of courtyards within courtyards, wearing exquisite silk garments, eating fine delicacies, playing with pretty Silla maidservants…

Can that possibly work?

It cannot!

These degenerate new Xianbei probably can't even ride a horse or draw a bow anymore—how could they ride south to rob the Han people?

"Chief, men from the General Er Zhu family are here again!"

Qifu Moyu was in the tent drinking with his men. Hearing this, he said with high spirits:

"That little sissy from the General Er Zhu family is here again, coming to demand money and grain from me. Does he have what it takes?"

"But Chief, there's also a young man with them this time. From his clothes, he looks like a Han man!"

"A Han man—could he be from Luoyang?"

Qifu Moyu was suddenly fired up, and strode out at the head of his underlings with blades at their hips.

"Today I'm going to open the eyes of that little sissy from the General Er Zhu family and those Han barbarians."

Outside the tribal camp, several dozen riders were slowly approaching.

Qifu Moyu had long since arranged his formation, swaggering with a bunch of his underlings to throw his weight around.

"Little Tuma, who's that next to you?"

Qifu Moyu was mocking General Er Zhu Zhao, not taking him seriously at all.

General Er Zhu Zhao looked at the overwhelming numbers on the other side and immediately panicked inside, not knowing how to introduce Li Shuang.

"He is…"

"This official is a grain-requisitioning commissioner sent by the court, named Da Ye Shuang!"

Li Shuang dismounted, took the court's ceremonial staff, and walked up to Qifu Moyu.

"You see the court's ceremonial staff—why do you not bow?"

Looking at this dark-skinned youth before him, Qifu Moyu, in their brief standoff, ultimately lost his nerve.

But just as he was about to kneel and salute, he was stopped.

"Wait!"

"What does the envoy mean?"

"The ceremonial staff bestowed by the court is such a sacred object, and you'd just kneel like that?"

"What else then?"

Li Shuang shook his head.

"A vulgar creature with no grasp of ritual!"

Qifu Moyu stood at a loss, and heard Li Shuang explain:

"When encountering the court's ceremonial staff, one must bathe and purify oneself, sweep the ground with willow-branch sweet dew, and lay down white fox pelts before one may perform the salute."

"How come I never knew of such a rule?"

"Of course you don't—otherwise what would I be here for!"

"But I don't have any white fox pelts either?"

Li Shuang smiled slightly, beckoned with his hand, and had his subordinate bring over a box.

"The court, in its care for the common folk, foresaw such a situation long ago and has already prepared white fox pelts."

The box opened, and inside lay a white fox pelt.

Qifu Moyu's face lit up with joy, and he was about to reach out and take it, but was stopped by Li Shuang.

"It was no easy matter for the court to prepare this white fox pelt—the chieftain will need to bear some of the expense."

Qifu Moyu asked with a wary expression:

"How much?"

"Three hundred thousand!"

"You little punk really dare to open your mouth—such a shabby white fox pelt is worth three hundred thousand? Why don't you just go rob someone?"

Li Shuang was not annoyed in the slightest, and summoned the scribe under Yuan Tianmu's command.

"Record this: Qifu Moyu shows no respect to the court's envoy, shows no reverence for the imperially bestowed object, fails to perform the grand salute before the ceremonial staff, and behaves with unbridled arrogance!"

Saying this, Li Shuang looked at Qifu Moyu, let out a cold laugh, his star-bright eyes sharp as blades.

"The chieftain is so wildly defiant—does he mean to emulate the rebels of the Liuzhen, plotting treason?"

Qifu Moyu broke out in a cold sweat, and in his panic blurted out:

"Don't write it down, don't write it down! I'll pay, I'll pay… it's just that my tribe doesn't have that much money—would cattle, sheep, grain, and fodder do?"

General Er Zhu Zhao stood off to the side, watching the obsequious, bowing Qifu Moyu, and shouted in his heart:

Holy crap!