Chapter 8: Farming Is Impossible

Beixiurong, Taiping Village.

Jia Sixie was deeply frustrated.

In the first few days after arriving, Jia Sixie had been moved by the villagers’ warm hospitality and worried that his stay might trouble them.

After all, even landlords didn’t have much surplus grain these days!

But soon, he realized he had overthought everything.

The village was filled with herds of cattle and sheep, granaries stacked high with grain, and most importantly, the villagers truly did not farm—just as Li Shuang’s retainer had said.

Every day, the villagers wielded swords, spears, halberds, and bows, training in martial arts and horsemanship.

Jia Sixie understood—he hadn’t entered a village; he had stumbled blindly into a den of bandits!

It was too late now; he wanted to leave, but feared he couldn’t.

Hou Jing walked in carrying a bowl of millet and a stack of mutton, grinning.

“Sir, you’re awake?”

Looking at the burly Hou Jing, Jia Sixie asked nervously:

“I’ve stayed here too long—when can I leave?”

“You can leave anytime, Sir!”

Hou Jing’s words made Jia Sixie suspicious; he asked sharply:

“Really?”

“Of course—my lord has not detained you.”

“Then I take my leave!”

Jia Sixie grabbed his already-packed bag and hurried toward the door—when Hou Jing drew a knife.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ve been ordered by my lord to host you. If you insist on leaving, I can’t stop you—but I’ve failed my lord’s trust, and must die to atone!”

He raised the knife to his throat.

Jia Sixie was a kind man—he had never seen such a scene and quickly stopped him.

“No, no! I won’t leave, alright?”

Hou Jing’s face, moments ago grim and resolute, now broke into a smile as he set the food down.

“Then please eat early—my lord instructed that during your free time, you may teach the villagers farming.”

Jia Sixie’s face twisted in bitterness.

“It’s not that I won’t teach—it’s just…”

Jia Sixie came from a long line of scholars and had served for years as an agricultural official, mastering techniques in irrigation, land reclamation, soil enrichment, forestry, sericulture, animal husbandry, veterinary medicine, breeding, brewing, cooking, food storage, and famine relief.

He was a good teacher—but the villagers of Taiping Village were terrible students!

“I’ll go with you, Sir—I’ll see who dares disrespect you!”

With Hou Jing behind him, the villagers of Taiping Village showed respect, gathering obediently under Jia Sixie’s instruction—even many young children were present.

Since entering Taiping Village, Jia Sixie had never seen so many students—he was genuinely pleased.

“Fellow villagers, what would you like to learn?”

“What can you teach us, Sir?”

Hearing the children’s innocent questions, Jia Sixie replied:

“I can teach you to divert water and reclaim wasteland, enrich your fields, so you’ll never suffer hunger or wander the land—how does that sound?”

At this, a child asked:

“Can I afford armor and horses within ten years?”

“No!”

“Not learning!”

“Then I’ll teach you mulberry cultivation, silkworm rearing, brewing, and animal husbandry—how about that?”

“Can I afford armor and horses within ten years?”

“No!”

“Not learning!”

Jia Sixie’s expression darkened—he wondered why every child here kept wanting armor and horses.

“Then I’ll teach you to read, write poetry, recognize rare goods, and broaden your knowledge—how about that?”

“Can I afford armor and horses within ten years?”

“No!”

“Not learning!”

…

At this point, Hou Jing lost his temper.

“You brats—nothing interests you? What do you actually want to learn?”

“We want to ride horses, draw bows, march into battle, and kill enemies!”

Looking at these young children, Jia Sixie was stunned.

Since the Yongjia chaos, Han civilization had lost its martial spirit for centuries, bullied by the Hu Ren—but now, in these children, he felt a fierce, unyielding martial vigor.

Jia Sixie’s expression softened.

“Why do you want to go to war and kill?”

“To steal money and women!”

The children shouted in unison—Jia Sixie turned pale; Hou Jing coughed and quickly defused the tension.

“Who taught you that?”

“Didn’t Uncle Hou and my father say it while drinking?”

Hou Jing gave the boy a sharp tap on the head and glanced awkwardly at Jia Sixie.

“Nonsense! You little rascal, how dare you slander me? I, Hou Jing, am upright and honorable—my entire life’s training is to defend home and country, protect the common people—nothing else!”

The boy, stubborn as ever, rubbed his head, pouting defiantly.

“I’m not lying—you said you’d raid Luoyang and Jiankang, and that you even…!”

Hou Jing clamped a hand over the boy’s mouth; seeing Jia Sixie sweep out in disgust, he hurried to his ear:

“Next time someone asks, say it’s for glory and love—understood?”

The boy nodded; Hou Jing rushed after him.

“Sir, children’s words mean nothing, mean nothing!”

Xiurong River.

Blue sky, white clouds, grass stretching across the land.

On the earth, beside the river, tents stretched endlessly.

The young heirs of the Er Zhu clan gathered to listen as Li Shuang imparted advanced management techniques.

The Er Zhu were a great clan; among the tents were not only Er Zhu Rong’s nephews and cousins, but also his brothers.

As they listened, most of the Er Zhu heirs grew distracted and slipped off to hunt.

Only Er Zhu Tianguang, a cousin’s son, and Er Zhu Dulu, a younger cousin, stayed to the end—though their faces still looked confused.

Er Zhu Tianguang sat in the front row, plump and fair-skinned, his cheeks wobbling as he spoke.

“Third Uncle, will learning these tactics let us defeat tribal chieftains?”

“Pretty much—most of the time, yes.”

“What about the rest of the time?”

Li Shuang patted Er Zhu Tianguang’s head and shook his head.

“These tactics only work if the tribal chieftains you’re dealing with don’t want to rebel.”

Sitting in the second row, Er Zhu Dulu was lean and wiry; he asked sharply:

“What if they do want to rebel?”

Li Shuang said nothing—only chuckled.

Nanxiurong.

When Er Zhu Zhao entered the great tent, staff in hand, as usual, he sensed an unusual atmosphere.

Er Zhu Zhao put on his usual haughty tone and threatened:

“Wan Ziqizhen, why don’t you bow before my staff?”

Wan Ziqizhen sat at the chieftain’s seat, pouring himself a cup of wine.

“Er Zhu Zhao, how much money have you stolen, how many women have you taken—still not enough?”

“I’m collecting military grain for the court, fighting the Liuzhen rebels!”

Wan Ziqizhen sneered.

“Liuzhen rebels? Every man in Liuzhen was once a hero who served country and people—how did the court treat them?”

Seeing the man’s demeanor, Er Zhu Zhao’s Qishi faltered, yet his words remained forceful.

“Wan Ziqizhen, are you planning to rebel too?”

“Yes!”

Wan Ziqizhen roared, sweeping his tableware to the ground, standing atop the table, looking down at Er Zhu Zhao.

“I’ll tell you plainly—I’ve pledged loyalty to the True King and will overthrow the Luoyang court.”

Er Zhu Zhao’s heart lurched, and his subordinates gathered around him.

“Commander, what should we do now?”

“I don’t know—Da Ye Shuang never taught us this!”