Chapter 75: The Two-Eight Rule

Li Zhi smiled and said, “The Xu family has many members, but very few with real clout. Forget it—if Lieutenant Liao looks down on us, we don’t need to beg for his favor. The civilian militia’s status is trivial anyway; it’ll vanish once the war ends. Let’s cut to the chase: can Commissioner Sun allocate some grain and pay?”

Sun Chaoen replied, “General Li comes from the Two Lis—isn’t that nobler than the Xus? Besides, that Liao fellow is even one step removed from the Xus. I can’t fathom why he’s so arrogant! As for grain and pay…”

Sun Chaoen gritted his teeth and said, “Three hundred militia, two taels each—that’s six hundred taels total. How’s that?”

Fang Hetong flew into a rage, slamming his fist on the table and rising to his feet. “The court allocated two hundred thousand taels—and you give six hundred? Are you so greedy you think you won’t choke on it?”

Sun Chaoen chuckled bitterly. “Brother Fang, you’ve read your books until they’ve led you into a dead end. Don’t you know the Two-Eight Rule?”

“What is the Two-Eight Rule?”

Assistant County Magistrate Ren Youwei said, “Let me explain for Commissioner Sun. The Two-Eight Rule is common knowledge in officialdom—it governs upward remittances and downward allocations. When the court sends down one hundred taels, after Cengcengguoshou , only twenty reach the county. When the county collects taxes and sends them upward, only twenty taels ultimately reach His Majesty. That’s the Two-Eight Rule. To uphold it is to govern with clarity and integrity.”

“This—this… is outrageous!” Fang Hetong stared, dumbfounded.

The Chief Clerk added, “His Majesty did allocate two hundred thousand taels, but only thirty-six thousand reached the county. Lieutenant Liao took thirty thousand as military pay; the county kept only six thousand. Then, clerks and government office runners had long-standing back pay owed—during wartime, when men must risk their lives, we can’t leave them unpaid, so we spent another three thousand. The remaining three thousand must cover all militia and auxiliary troops. So Commissioner Sun’s six hundred taels? He may even have to dip into his own pocket.”

Fang Hetong protested again: “What about the Liao barbarian heads? You’ve made at least ten thousand taels from those!”

Sun Chaoen sighed. “The heads were handed over to the Prefect. Why would such an easy profit fall to me? Without those heads, do you think the thirty-six thousand taels would’ve been released at all? I do get a cut from the phantom roster funds—but if I don’t take it, how will the Prefect take it? If the Prefect doesn’t take it, how will the Provincial Governor take it? Brother Fang, the kind of upright, incorruptible official you imagine? He wouldn’t survive three retellings in a storyteller’s tale!”

Fang Hetong pressed on: “What about the phantom roster kickbacks?”

Sun Chaoen sighed helplessly. “Brother Fang! You keep saying you’re poor and have no connections. Did you think I had any? Did I reach this position through talent alone? Competence is one thing—but knowing how to navigate the system is another! If I didn’t grease palms with those silver taels, where would I be today?”

The Assistant County Magistrate said, “Commissioner Sun is already a rare good official. Take the phantom roster issue alone: when Lieutenant Liao first took office, he made threats loud enough to shake the walls—but here, he only gets half. In other counties, eight out of ten is often the norm! Look around: every neighboring county takes seven or eight. In fact, on this very matter, Commissioner Sun has deeply offended Lieutenant Liao.”

Sun Chaoen sighed. “Brother Fang, you must hold office before you can govern. You’re not in this position—no matter how brilliant you are, what can you do? Can your flesh-and-blood body change anything? I lack such power. I must first protect myself. All I can do is be better than the neighboring counties, cleaner than my peers, and let our people breathe a little easier.”

Li Zhi raised his cup. “Commissioner Sun is capable, but trapped in the system, he’s bound by its rules. Here’s my proposal: you provide six hundred taels, and I’ll add another six hundred—just to ease the immediate crisis. What do you say, Brother Fang?”

After a long pause, Fang Hetong slowly nodded.

Deep into the night, Xiang Weiyuan and Li Zhi returned to Shayang Village. Sun Chaoen had invited them to stay overnight at the county office, but they declined.

Shayang Village was extremely crude—only one well, its water barely enough for cooking and drinking, let alone bathing or even washing one’s face. Xiang Weiyuan and Li Zhi gave up on sleep entirely and stood before a map, planning tomorrow’s battle.

Li Zhi had originally brought a map, but upon seeing Fang Hetong’s hand-drawn version, he quietly put his own away.

“What’s your plan, Brother Wei?” Li Zhi asked. There was a subtle test in his tone.

Xiang Weiyuan considered. “Pure defense is too passive—it won’t last. With your cavalry, I propose we strike first—clear out the Liao barbarian outposts on the perimeter.”

Li Zhi’s eyes lit up. “I was just planning to engage them in open battle and test their mettle. It’s fortunate you think the same. I brought sixty personal guards—tomorrow, I’ll bring them all. Split into two squads: I’ll lead thirty, you lead thirty.”

“No, that won’t do. You command—I’ll follow and fight.” Xiang Weiyuan declined. He had no experience leading troops, and war was no game—he wouldn’t risk lives to gain experience. Besides, he felt trailing dozens of men behind him was cumbersome, hindering his ability to harvest merit.

They then finalized their route. Fang Hetong had marked four possible enemy encampments; they planned to advance west to east, clearing each one in turn.

After agreeing, Li Zhi sent two riders back to his own garrison to recall all his personal guards. Xiang Weiyuan had no horse; Li Zhi had three, so he gave one spare to Xiang Weiyuan.

Just after the third watch, Li Zhi’s personal guards arrived. Dawn was still distant; each guard had cultivated deeply, brimming with energy, needing no sleep. They prepared for departure: tending horses, polishing weapons, then, under two squad leaders, studied the map and memorized the march route.

In warfare against the Northern Liao, night battles were strictly avoided—it was military doctrine. They would wait for daylight.

As they prepared, Li Zhi handed Xiang Weiyuan a small box. “Take a set?”

Xiang Weiyuan took it. The lid bore the Four Sacred Academies’ emblem. Inside lay a stack of talismans: Sharp Weapon Talismans, which, when applied to weapons, added armor-piercing and keenness effects for a day; Tough Armor Talismans—two total, one for himself, one for his horse; Revival Talismans, to accelerate stamina recovery, meant for the horse; and Water Healing Talismans, to speed wound healing when applied to the body.

These were low-grade talismans, but exquisitely crafted, each effect lasting exactly one day. The Four Sacred Academies were famed across the land for their infallible spells—and their talismans were unmatched.

Xiang Weiyuan was still deciding whether to use them now when he saw each guard pull out an identical box, extract their talismans, and apply them to themselves and their mounts—all exactly matching his own. Only then did he realize: this box was standard issue for Li Zhi’s personal guards.

As Li Zhi slapped talismans onto himself, he said, “Don’t underestimate these low-grade talismans—used well, they’re more useful than high-grade ones. I plan to order three thousand more sets from the Academies. My own troops will get ten each.”

In the final moments before dawn, all guards ate their rations—a hearty meal. Their rations resembled the dried meat of the Tai Chu Palace: a thin strip could stave off hunger for a full day. But Li Zhi’s guards’ rations were superior—not only did they suppress hunger, they boosted morale and accelerated spiritual power recovery.

All preparations complete, dawn began to break. The churning darkness receded, the horizon expanded, until blocked by distant hues of deep yellow and pale brown.

A line of iron cavalry filed out of Shayang Village, following their planned route toward the first suspected Liao barbarian encampment.

(End of Chapter)