Chapter 93: Suppression

Xiong Kuohai couldn't help admiring Jiang Xiaomu's vision and decisiveness.

"Boss, impressive insight! But these people have complicated backgrounds; I'm afraid they'll be hard to manage."

"What's so difficult about that?"

Jiang Xiaomu let out a cold laugh.

"In these chaotic times, human lives are as worthless as weeds."

"As long as we give them food to eat and let them survive, they will naturally obey us."

"If anyone refuses to listen or obey, just kill them outright."

"Hehe, the boss is brilliant!"

Jiang Xiaomu is no saint; in these troubled times, only the ruthless can survive.

Over the next few days, Li Wenqing was overwhelmed with work.

Moreover, among these refugees there were indeed many ruffians and even deserters and mercenaries, making management extremely difficult.

Public order in the city deteriorated day by day, with frequent theft and robbery, and the people's complaints rose incessantly.

Magistrate Zhao also began to regret his earlier decision, blaming Li Wenqing for mishandling affairs.

Li Wenqing felt bitter inside, yet had no recourse.

He sought out Jiang Xiaomu, hoping he could help maintain order in the city.

Jiang Xiaomu naturally would not let this opportunity slip by.

He brought his private troops and, with thunderous means, suppressed the city's disturbances, arrested the troublemakers, and executed them publicly.

For a time, the city's folk fell silent like cicadas in winter, both revering and fearing Jiang Xiaomu.

Meanwhile, Jiang Xiaomu seized the chance to recruit refugees into his ranks, strengthening his power.

One day, while he was patrolling the main street, he suddenly heard a commotion.

Following the sound, he saw a crowd of refugees surrounding a ragged old man, punching and kicking him.

"Stop!" Jiang Xiaomu shouted sternly.

Seeing this, the crowd halted their blows, looking at Jiang Xiaomu with fear.

"What's going on?"

Jiang Xiaomu approached the old man and asked.

The old man trembled as he lifted his head, his face covered in wounds.

He pointed at a burly refugee and said:

"He… he stole my steamed bun…"

The burly refugee, however, stuck out his neck and said:

"This old geezer stole my stuff; what's wrong with giving him a lesson?"

Jiang Xiaomu stared coldly at the refugee.

"Where's the evidence?"

"This…" the refugee was momentarily lost for words.

"Without evidence, you dare slander others—what punishment do you deserve?"

Jiang Xiaomu's voice was icy and bone-chilling.

The refugee trembled with fear and fell to his knees.

"Sir, spare my life; I know I was wrong…"

Jiang Xiaomu ignored him and instead looked at the surrounding refugees.

"I don't care where you come from or what you've done before."

"But now you must abide by these rules."

"Otherwise, this will be your fate!"

Having said that, he drew his waist sword and, with a single stroke, cut off the burly refugee's head.

The crowd was terrified, their souls fleeing, and they all dropped to their knees.

"Sir, spare our lives!"

The smell of blood still lingered; the onlookers turned ashen, not daring to breathe.

Jiang Xiaomu looked around and said, "Anyone else who disagrees?"

No one answered; only the sound of kowtowing rose and fell.

He snorted coldly, turned, and walked away down the street behind him, leaving a headless corpse and a deathly silence.

However, the effect of killing one to warn a hundred did not last long.

Despite Jiang Xiaomu's ruthless methods, vicious incidents continued to erupt one after another within Wangjiang Cheng.

Li Wenqing's hair had been falling out in clumps lately, and he looked utterly exhausted.

He regretted it, regretting his momentary soft-heartedness in opening the city gate.

He had thought these refugees were merely pitiful victims, never expecting that among them lurked so many villains.

"Master Jiang, please help me!"

Li Wenqing practically came to Jiang Xiaomu in tears.

"The case files in the county office are piled higher than a person!"

"Pei Dongyong leads the constables in arresting people every day in the city."

"But as soon as we catch one, another pops up—we can't possibly finish!"

Jiang Xiaomu watched Li Wenqing's harried state and smirked inwardly.

He had long anticipated this outcome.

Human nature is evil; once these people lose their restraint, they will run wild like untethered horses, acting recklessly.

"Sir Li need not worry," Jiang Xiaomu said, feigning calm.

"I have my own way."

"What way?"

Li Wenqing, as if clutching a lifeline, asked urgently.

Jiang Xiaomu gave a mysterious smile, leaned close to Li Wenqing's ear, and whispered a few words.

After hearing that, Li Wenqing's face first showed surprise, then hesitation.

"This… this might be too extreme, right?"

"In troubled times, heavy laws are needed, Sir Li; now is not the time for womanly compassion."

Jiang Xiaomu patted Li Wenqing on the shoulder.

"Only by making them utterly afraid can we make them obediently listen."

Li Wenqing gritted his teeth and finally nodded.

"Fine, we'll do it your way!"

That night, the gates of Wangjiang Cheng were shut tight, and torches blazed on the city walls.

Jiang Xiaomu, with his private soldiers, searched house to house, arresting all the drifters who had committed offenses, regardless of the severity of their crimes.

The next morning, the central square of Wangjiang Cheng was packed with people.

The captured drifters were tied in a line, kneeling on the ground, trembling.

Jiang Xiaomu stood on the platform, looking down at them.

"I know many of you became outlaws only because you were forced to."

Jiang Xiaomu's voice echoed across the square.

"But once you enter Wangjiang Cheng, you must obey its rules!"

"Starting today, anyone who dares to steal, rob, or fight will be executed! Any accomplices will share the same punishment!"

Some begged for mercy, some cursed, and some tried to flee, but were shot on the spot by Jiang Xiaomu's private soldiers.

What followed was even more terrifying, making everyone present tremble with fear.

At Jiang Xiaomu's command, the private soldiers brought forward the prepared wooden stakes.

Each stake had its tip sharpened, emitting a chilling, bone‑cold aura.

"Nail them all to the city walls!"

Jiang Xiaomu's voice was icy and merciless.

The private soldiers carried out the order without hesitation, dragging each crying, struggling drifter to the stakes and hammering them in with iron mallets.

The onlookers turned pale with fright, some even vomiting uncontrollably.

Jiang Xiaomu watched expressionlessly; only such brutal measures could cow these outlaws and restore order to Wangjiang Cheng.

Yet he did not know that all of this was being watched clearly by a pair of eyes hidden in the darkness.

The owner of those eyes was none other than the Prefect Zhao, whom he had always respected.

Prefect Zhao stood on the city tower, gazing at the bloody scene in the square, his face grim and terrifying.

But now, this is the best—and only—way to cow those troublemakers.

"Jiang Xiaomu… sparing your life—was that right or wrong......"

He muttered to himself, a complex light flickering in his eyes.

The human stakes on the city walls swayed slightly in the wind, like a row of frightful scarecrows.

Jiang Xiaomu's methods were brutal yet effective.

The drifters were utterly cowed; incidents of theft and robbery virtually disappeared.