Chapter 72: Reckless and Unbridled

The official was pale and clean-shaven, with a few fine whiskers; as he entered the room, he smiled warmly and bowed. “My apologies for keeping you waiting, Immortal Wei. I truly regret the delay. County Magistrate Sun is currently in seclusion, so I, his deputy, shall receive you. I am Ren Youwei, Assistant County Magistrate of Quyang County. May I ask what brings you here?”

The assistant magistrate held high rank but wielded no real power—a sinecure, effectively a deputy to the county magistrate. Though this official appeared harmless, he was also a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

Wei Yuan rose and returned the bow, then spoke bluntly: “I have come for the three hundred civilian soldiers of Shayang Village! They have served for months, fought in countless battles, and have yet to see a single tael of military pay—let alone compensation. I am here to ask: where is their rations? Where is their compensation?”

Ren Youwei feigned sudden understanding. “Ah, this matter. Immortal, you are unaware: rations are a matter of utmost importance, governed by strict imperial laws that no one may violate. Civilian soldiers cannot be raised at will. To organize them, one must submit a petition to the imperial court and receive official approval. Otherwise, everyone would raise troops, and chaos would engulf the land. The authority to approve civilian soldier rolls in this county does not rest with the county office, but with Assistant Regional Commander Liao. We long ago forwarded Fang’s petition to Commander Liao, yet no approval has come. Without approval, how dare we disburse even a single tael? That would cost us our heads!”

Ren Youwei, a seasoned fox, instantly kicked the ball to Liao’s court, washing his hands clean.

Wei Yuan, inexperienced, had no way to counter this slippery old bureaucrat. But he knew if he left now, he’d play right into Ren’s hands. So he sat still and said: “I will visit Assistant Regional Commander Liao myself. As for rations, let that wait—thirty-seven men have died in battle these past months, and compensation is due. What standard of compensation does Assistant Magistrate Ren intend to offer?”

Ren Youwei looked troubled. “Civilian soldiers who die in battle are entitled to compensation—but only if they are officially registered, and only if they fall in a battle specifically designated by their superiors. Forgive me, but these men from Shayang Village likely meet neither condition.”

Wei Yuan pressed: “Several elderly villagers have starved to death. The imperial court must provide relief. I won’t make it hard for you—just release some grain for now. This is a matter of life and death.”

Ren Youwei sighed deeply. “I grieve for those who starve. Alas—who can help it in these chaotic times? We are on the front line. By imperial law, all grain here is military supply. No one may touch a single grain without the joint order of the county magistrate and the assistant regional commander. Even the street vendors selling buns have been shut down. I am truly powerless to release grain.”

Wei Yuan’s anger rose. His face darkened. “You wash your hands so cleanly! The county office collects one tael per Liao barbarian head—then sells each head for a thousand taels! Yet your frontline soldiers starve, their families die of hunger. Can you sleep at night knowing you’ve made this profit?”

“A thousand taels? Where did you hear that?” Ren Youwei feigned shock. “Magistrate Sun and I merely used our own private silver to reward those who defended the land.”

“Then where are the heads?”

“They were sent directly to the prefectural capital. The Prefect took them all. What happened after that, I do not know.”

Ren Youwei feigned ignorance on every point, deflecting everything. Wei Yuan’s fury swelled. He slammed his fist on the table and roared: “Assistant Magistrate Ren! Shall I show you just how much your Foundation Establishment cultivation is worth?”

Ren Youwei turned pale. “I am but a humble cultivator—how could I withstand an Immortal’s wrath? If you insist on striking, I shall accept death. But at least let me die understanding: can an Immortal sect’s disciple kill without reason?”

Wei Yuan had never met such a man—impervious to reason, unshakable, offering no resistance. He found himself unable to strike.

Yet his memory of countless historical texts now came to use. He calmed himself, recalling the examples from books. He stared silently at Ren Youwei, expressionless, until Ren’s gaze began to flicker.

Only then did Wei Yuan speak: “So none of this has anything to do with you, Assistant Magistrate Ren. Very well. Please inform County Magistrate Sun: I, Wei Yuan, have been in my assigned district for two days—and received only ten auxiliary soldiers. Under Tang law, someone must lose their head for this. Not just one. Within two days, I demand two hundred soldiers in my district. I don’t care how you or Magistrate Sun get them—every single one must be there. If you’re short, use your concubines. If you’re still short, Assistant Magistrate Ren, you may fill the gap yourself. If you find this difficult, I shall petition the True Lord to send Daoist troops to garrison here.”

Ren Youwei’s smile grew stiff. If this were pursued to the end, someone would lose their head—but who, no one could say. The True Lord would never send Daoist troops directly—even if he did, they’d come to cut heads.

Wei Yuan added: “Since you say Assistant Regional Commander Liao refuses approval, please write me a letter. I shall take it to him myself and demand an explanation.”

Ren Youwei had no choice. He wrote a letter and handed it to Wei Yuan. Wei Yuan rose without delay. As he left, he said: “Assistant Magistrate Ren, mind your own conduct.”

Wei Yuan no longer lingered with Ren Youwei. He left the county office, cast a Divine Speed spell upon himself, and headed straight for the military encampment outside the city. Moments later, he arrived at the encampment’s gate.

The encampment walls stood two zhang high, built of broken stone bound with straw paste—the northern frontier’s signature construction method: sturdy and easy to repair. Though not tall, the walls sent a prickling sensation across Wei Yuan’s skin the moment he approached the gate—several elite soldiers had aimed crossbows at him.

After announcing his identity, several soldiers escorted him into the central command hall. At the head sat a massive, burly man, scarred across his face, with a short beard and hawk-like eyes, dark and piercing. Wei Yuan recognized his uniform—he must be Assistant Regional Commander Liao Jingwu.

Wei Yuan bowed. “I am Wei Yuan of the Tai Chu Palace. I come to pay my respects to Commander Liao.”

Liao Jingwu’s gaze swept over Wei Yuan. Instantly, Wei Yuan felt a searing heat roll over his body. He tensed—he knew this commander was no novice Foundation Establishment cultivator; he was likely in the second realm. Liao Jingwu was Earth-grade Foundation Establishment—this made things slightly harder. Wei Yuan silently assessed: to defeat him, he’d likely need to drain his own Dao energy completely.

After formal greetings, Liao Jingwu asked: “So you are a young Immortal of the Tai Chu Palace. What brings you here?”

Liao Jingwu’s voice carried a metallic rasp—unnatural.

As a disciple of the Tai Chu Palace, Wei Yuan felt no fear toward cultivators of other sects—not even toward Manifestation-level masters. That was the confidence of an Immortal sect. Though Liao Jingwu was Earth-grade Foundation Establishment, Wei Yuan was not afraid to fight. He spoke directly: “Why have the three hundred men of Shayang Village not been registered as civilian soldiers?”

Liao Jingwu’s expression remained unchanged. He ordered a captain to bring the relevant documents, then examined them carefully before Wei Yuan’s eyes. Had Wei Yuan not known the hidden truths, he might have believed Liao was truly unaware. This Assistant Regional Commander was clearly a veteran player.

After studying the documents for a long while, Liao Jingwu set them down and asked the captain a few more questions before saying: “Fang He Tong did submit a list of civilian soldiers. But upon inspection, the list does not match the actual personnel—that is one issue. Second, the list consists entirely of elderly, weak farmers. This suggests falsification of troop numbers to fraudulently claim rations. With war ongoing and my duties heavy, I cannot spare time to verify personally. I shall set this aside for now.”

Wei Yuan’s anger surged. Liao Jingwu spoke in lofty terms, but he was just another seasoned bureaucrat. His excuses were flimsy, easily dismantled.

For instance, the claim that the submitted list didn’t match reality—after several battles, men died in every engagement. How could the original list possibly still match? And the second claim: aren’t all civilian soldiers farmers in peacetime? Who expects farmers to be muscular and strong? Most are thin, weak, and poor. Even the auxiliary soldiers Wei Yuan had seen were old, sick, and frail.

This wasn’t like Ren Youwei’s ignorance—it was a lazy, half-hearted excuse, offered without even pretending to think.

The problem: Wei Yuan knew Liao Jingwu was lying. Liao Jingwu knew Wei Yuan knew he was lying. And Liao Jingwu kept lying anyway.

This was sheer audacity.

(End of Chapter)