Chapter 418: Dark Currents in the South

Outside Suzhou Prefecture, in Wujiang County, there is a tea house built beside the river, appearing ordinary.

This is one of many hidden posts of the South Wind Chronicle set up in South of the River; on the surface it sells tea and simple meals, but in reality it is an information relay station.

Chen Wen and Shi Dun sit in a window-side elegant room on the second floor; outside the window is a drizzling rain curtain, and on the river, black-covered boats come and go.

The tea house owner, a middle-aged man with a simple appearance but eyes revealing shrewdness, stands respectfully to the side, reporting in a low voice.

"Master, looking at the Suzhou-Hangzhou area, on the surface the False Song's troops already control big and small cities, officials have been sent down, and notices are posted everywhere saying, 'The royal army has pacified, and we will renew with the people.'"

"But in secret, it's not like that at all."

He paused, then lowered his voice even more.

"Those military commanders from the north look at us South of the River people with arrogance and vigilance; the officials sent are mostly northerners, unfamiliar with local conditions, pressing taxes more urgently and harshly than before, claiming they need to raise military funds and pacify the remaining disloyal."

"Storehouses in various places, and even the grain stored by some wealthy families, have been requisitioned in large amounts."

"The common people below, especially those who formerly had ties with the Wu-Yue officials or whose property has been seized by the gentry, all harbor a fire inside."

Chen Wen listened quietly, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the warm tea cup.

His Shi Yong is felt more clearly here.

The gray-black force representing False Song's rule is like a heavy shackle, trying to be forcibly placed upon this lovely watery land.

Meanwhile, the locals' intertwined force, like a river network, surges with dark currents beneath the shackle; feelings of resentment, unease, and resistance are like hidden reefs underwater, ready to ground any passing boat at any moment.

"Is there any organized resistance?" Shi Dun asked in a low voice, he cared more about actual resistance strength.

The owner shook his head, then nodded.

"There's no one openly raising banners to rebel yet. The False Song's great army just passed, its prestige still remains, so no one dares to be the first to stick their head out."

"However, small bands of water bandits and lake raiders are now far more numerous than before."

"Moreover, some local militia nominally submit to False Song but hear orders and not obey, outwardly complying while secretly defying."

"Even worse……"

He leaned in closer, his voice barely audible.

"In the Great Lake, it's said there are several groups flying the banner 'Defend the Territory, Pacify the People', specifically looting False Song's grain and official ships, their movements mysterious, coming and going like the wind."

"The authorities have surrounded and suppressed them several times, each time suffering hidden losses, and now they are offering rewards for their capture."

Chen Wen and Shi Dun exchanged a glance, seeing the meaning in each other's eyes.

Chaos means opportunity.

These scattered, seemingly insignificant forces are the best seeds for Sowing Thistles.

"Do you know who leads these several groups on the Great Lake? What's their reputation?" Chen Wen asked.

"Replying to Master, the specific name is unknown, and their actions are very covert. I've only heard that the leader seems to be a disgruntled local military officer, dissatisfied with northerners' oppression, who brought his old troops into the lake."

"As for reputation…… to the False Song's authorities they are naturally brutal and vicious, but to the lakeside fishermen and some of the oppressed commoners, they do no harm, occasionally even offering aid, gaining quite a reputation for chivalry."

Chen Wen gave a slight nod.

Having a bottom line and popular support, such a force has value to be backed.

"Find a way, pass a word over."

Chen Wen instructed the owner.

"No need to expose us; just let them know that if they are willing to resist False Song, perhaps… overseas merchants would be willing to provide some 'convenience'."

"Yes, Master."

The owner understood implicitly.

After obtaining preliminary information at the tea house, Chen Wen and Shi Dun did not linger but continued deeper into the Suzhou-Hangzhou interior.

They sometimes posed as silk‑collecting merchants, chatting with local silk farmers and weavers;

sometimes posed as traveling scholars, listening in teahouses and taverns to the discussions of literati and gentry;

Shi Dun, relying on his seasoned experience, several times approached the False Song's garrison camp and grain transport wharf, observing their defenses and deployments.

What they saw and heard confirmed and enriched the tea house owner's report.

False Song's rule is far from consolidated.

In a prosperous market town, they personally witnessed a small‑scale clash.

Several False Song tax officials, accompanied by soldiers, tried to forcibly designate the town's best‑selling silk shops as 'state‑run', provoking merchants to unite in resistance, public sentiment running high.

Although ultimately, under the threat of soldiers' swords and spears, the merchants temporarily yielded, but that suppressed anger almost ignited the air.

Chen Wen's Shi Yong clearly sensed that, after the incident, the locals' force saw its resentful dark current grow a bit.

"The people's hearts can be used."

Chen Wen whispered to Shi Dun.

"But it needs guidance; we must not let it erupt blindly, causing needless sacrifice."

They also began to use the South Wind Chronicle's channels to quietly spread some carefully crafted rumors.

"I've heard that the northern court's treasury is empty; this pacification of the south has cost a great deal, and future tax increases will likely be more than thirty percent higher than now!"

"No wonder! I also heard that those northern officials have already been secretly surveying land and registering households, precisely to prepare for higher taxes!"

"Alas, these good days are probably coming to an end……"

These rumors, half true half false, precisely struck the most sensitive nerve of the common people and gentry—taxation.

They are like an invisible poison, slowly and continuously eroding the already fragile legitimacy of False Song's rule, deepening the divide and opposition between officials and the people.

At the same time, Chen Wen also began to instruct the South Wind Chronicle to covertly select and contact those local forces with potential and dissatisfaction with False Song's rule.

Besides that water bandit group in the Great Lake, they also discovered several manor estates whose armed strength is not weak, local strongmen who outwardly comply but inwardly defy False Song's orders, as well as some former Wu‑Yue mid‑low level officials who, having suffered losses, harbor resentment.

The method of contact is very covert.

Either, when they encounter difficulties, providing unexpected "help" through a third party;

or anonymously sending some gold and silver, grain and fodder, accompanied by a few ambiguous words encouraging them to "preserve the homeland".

Or it could use the business network of the South Wind Chronicle to provide some sales channels for its suppressed industries, maintaining its economic strength.

Chen Wen was not in a hurry to integrate these forces.

What he is doing now is merely the preliminary work of 'sowing thorns'—selecting suitable thorn seeds and providing them with a little nutrients and water needed for sprouting.

Allowing these scattered, spontaneous resistance forces to survive, and to create more, longer-lasting trouble for the False Song's rule.

Undercurrents, beneath the seemingly calm surface of the False Song's southern rule, began to quietly gather and surge.

And Chen Wen and Shi Dun were like two of the finest gardeners, shuttling across this damp, muggy land, patiently seeking every spot where seeds could be sown, awaiting the day when thorns would break through the soil and entwine the hind legs of the False Song's southern expedition army.