Chapter 554: All the Heroes of Huai and Si Have Entered My Snare

A fine book…

Fifteen men stood before Zhang Zhao, led by a burly, imposing fellow. The thick calluses on the webs of both his hands showed he had not only handled weapons for a long time, but was equally skilled with either hand.

The big man's eyes darted about restlessly. Apart from not daring to look directly at Zhang Zhao, his gaze never lingered long in one place, and he kept glancing to Zhang Zhao's right.

That was because a man named Wang Shangda, a chiliarch of the Brocade Robe Imperial Guard, stood there. He was the chiliarch in charge of the Jianghuai region for the Brocade Robe Imperial Guard.

This meant the burly man knew Wang Shangda, and judging from his quick, lively eyes and his composure, he was no ordinary jianghu bravo or Huainan bandit. He was most likely a private salt dealer from Huainan recruited by the Brocade Robe Imperial Guard.

The rest were a motley assortment. There was a genuine Huainan river pirate, who had thought he was being dragged off to be beheaded and had taken a sound beating on the road before he finally quieted down.

Besides him, there were several true farmers who wore nothing but hemp clothes in the bitter cold, and also a plump, prosperous-looking village elder.

There was a scholar with a cold expression, and even several prefectural and county soldiers from Chuzhou stationed in Huainan, along with local militia.

Every one of these men, without exception, had been brought directly from Huainan by the Brocade Robe Imperial Guard.

And the reason such a complete collection of people from all walks of life had been assembled was largely due to the short, stocky man standing before Zhang Zhao.

This was Zhang Sanlang, the famous local boss of the private salt, sugar, and tea trade in the region from Chuzhou in Huainan to Haizhou (Lianyungang).

Ever since the Great Qi Emperor Huang Chao shook the realm, the salt-smuggling trade seemed to have taken on an unusual flavor.

Zhang Sanlang was just such a man. In Huainan he had drawn together the local braves of the countryside, linked up with prefectural and county troops and the great local clans, and built a considerable reputation by protecting the villages in the name of the common good.

When there was profit to be had, such a man would certainly still grab for it, and he was surely somewhat overbearing in village affairs, but he had not sunk to preying on his neighbors.

In essence, they were the product of the local middle and lower classes seeking self-protection after the Southern Tang court's brutal oppression in Huainan.

It was just that in history, after the Later Zhou conquered Huainan, not only did they fail to govern benevolently, but because the war with the Southern Tang grew ever fiercer, the oppression in Huainan became even worse. The quality of the Zhou troops was uneven, and there were many incidents of soldiers plundering the countryside.

As a result, these people of Huainan, who had been so deeply oppressed by the Southern Tang court, could only gather in the mountains and marshes, build fortresses, and press paper into armor, calling themselves the White Armor Army. They linked up with Southern Tang forces and ambushed and killed Zhou troops in a bid to protect themselves.

It was with their cooperation that the Southern Tang court was able to retake Yangzhou.

This also served as a tremendous warning to the ambitious Guo Rong. From then on, Guo Rong strictly enforced military discipline, and only then did the Zhou army gradually take on the bearing of an imperial host.

But in this time and space, they were very fortunate, because they had encountered Zhang Zhao.

The Zhang-Zhou army, born from the Guiyi Army, already had decent discipline to begin with, and Zhang Zhao understood the importance of the people's hearts even better than Guo Rong did — and of course, he also understood better how to make use of them.

These people of Huainan, so cruelly oppressed by the Southern Tang, would immediately become the weapon Zhang Zhao used to oppress the Southern Tang court.

Now that Zhang Zhao had recovered Huaibei, if he could also stabilize Huainan, then from now on the Southern Tang would become a rat at his feet — to be beaten whenever he wished, to be whipped whenever he wished.

Of course, completely winning the hearts of the people of Huainan would not be so easy.

In life, it all comes down to two words: profit. And in this era, the hearts of the lowest class of commoners, who could not even eat their fill, could not be used — or rather, were very difficult to use.

What could truly be used was the "hearts" of men like Zhang Sanlang and that plump village elder. With their support, Zhang Zhao could take Chuzhou in the shortest possible time.

Only after taking Chuzhou and seizing political power would Zhang Zhao be qualified to speak of using the hearts of the lowest commoners.

So the question Zhang Zhao asked the farmer was very simple. As a man from a later age, himself born from the lower rungs of society, Zhang Zhao put on no airs whatsoever, and in his heart he had never looked down on these lowest of farmers.

He walked over personally, came before the trembling farmer, and asked gently, "Have you finished planting this year's spring wheat?"

Zhang Zhao did not speak the Huainan dialect, and the farmer naturally did not speak the Heluo official tongue, so an interpreter was needed.

After hearing the interpreter's words, the farmer kept his head lowered, and only after a long while did he stammer in reply, "The official's fields have just been planted. My own fields have not been planted yet."

Zhang Zhao nodded, took a bolt of somewhat coarse silk cloth and a string of cash from a guard, and personally handed them to the farmer.

"Go back now. This is a reward for you. Tell your neighbors all around that this year's Bozheng levy will not be collected, and from next year on, you will no longer have to farm the official fields."

After the interpreter translated, the farmer at first showed no reaction, as if somewhat stunned.

Only after the interpreter repeated it a second time did the farmer suddenly jolt. He looked at Zhang Zhao in disbelief, then dropped to his knees with a thud.

"Is what the official says true? Can an official of the Tang state heed the words of the Son of Heaven of the Zhou state?"

"Hahaha!" Zhang Zhao laughed a few times. It seemed this farmer was no fool — he could tell who Zhang Zhao was, which showed he had some awareness after all.

"I have heard that the king of the Tang state is no good king, so I have specially raised troops to seek justice for you. That Liu Yanzhen was no good man, and I have already killed him. From now on, you can live and work in peace."

The words were a bit bookish, but the interpreter would naturally translate them. When the farmer heard, he sobbed and began kowtowing to Zhang Zhao on the ground, thud after thud.

Afraid the farmer would injure his head, Zhang Zhao quickly had someone help him up and escort him out.

The moment the farmer left, the village elder immediately dropped to his knees with a thud and knelt before Zhang Zhao as well, already wailing and carrying on about the benevolence of the Son of Heaven and such.

As a small rural magnate who had felt the Southern Tang's oppression most deeply, he understood better than anyone the power of the words Zhang Zhao had just spoken.

Someone like the farmer who had just left, with nothing but a bit of labor to be squeezed out of him, had never been the main target of exploitation.

And even a farmer like that counted as being in relatively good condition among the common people. What oil could be squeezed from the others?

So those who had always been bled dry were people like this elder — small rural landlords and prosperous peasants with a little property but not much.

And in Huainan, households like this elder numbered no less than twenty or thirty thousand.

They had a voice in the villages — that is, when they spoke, people believed them and listened. They could accurately mobilize able-bodied men who dared to go to war, and they could travel far to learn what was happening in the outside world.

If the Son of Heaven of the Zhou state could truly abolish the Bozheng levy and other harsh exactions, he would immediately win the support of these twenty or thirty thousand prosperous households. Combined with the valor of the Zhou army, that would give him the capital to establish a foothold in the seven prefectures and twenty-one counties of Huainan.

"Your Majesty truly wishes to abolish the Bozheng levy and do away with the military fields? Does the Sage know how much coin and grain the Tang state collects from these every year?

Without this coin and grain, even if the Sage takes Chuzhou, with what will he feed his soldiers?"

But before the elder could speak, the scholar beside him spoke up.

Only now did Zhang Zhao carefully observe this scholar. The man stood as straight as a pine or cypress, a heroic spirit showing faintly between his brows, his manner neither servile nor overbearing.

He was dressed as a scholar, but the belt with its sword-hanging straps at his waist was especially conspicuous — clearly he was not so frail and bookish after all.

Zhang Zhao sensed that the man before him might be no ordinary person, so he cupped his hands in salute. "May I ask the gentleman's honored name?"

The scholar's brows and eyes stirred, a trace of surprise suddenly showing on his face. Then he bowed deeply to Zhang Zhao, all the way down.

"A wild man from the borderlands of the southern state — what virtue do I have to be asked by the Son of Heaven? My surname is Zhang, my given name Wei."

Zhang Wei? Zhang Zhao thought for a long while, but he truly could not recall any such figure from the Five Dynasties.

But his instinct would not be wrong. The scholar before him was no ordinary man — very likely one of those whose great ambitions went unfulfilled in history.

At that thought, Zhang Zhao extended his hand. "Since we are of the same clan, please sit and speak."

But to Sage Zhang's complete surprise, the Zhang Wei across from him cupped his hands once more.

"A wild man from the borderlands thanks the Sage for granting him a seat, but the Sage has still not answered this wild man's question."

Zhang Zhao understood now. He knew why this man had never made any name for himself in history.

With a temper like that, even Zhang Zhao felt a jab of irritation in his chest. What ruler could have tolerated him?

But for Zhang Zhao, treating worthy men with courtesy had never been a problem. For one thing, he came from the lowest rungs of society, and he had been born in a later age that at least advocated equality for all, so the word "arrogance" had never existed in his heart.

For another, he had seen far too many scenes and read far too many passages in history books, films, television, and novels about treating worthy men with courtesy. On that front, he was mentally well prepared.

And so, faced with such a blunt, face-to-face question, he could still laugh heartily and answer without his expression changing in the slightest.

"This Secretary is certainly quick with his words. Then I shall tell you: to plunder and seize from the common people, to work their strength by planting military fields — this is tyranny and harsh governance, and no true ruler would take it up.

The Lord of Tang, Li Jing, is an ignorant child, and that is why he grinds down the common people. I rose from humble beginnings and have always known the hardships of the folk. I will never harm the people with harsh rule.

As for your question of how I feed my soldiers — Wang Shangda, you answer!"

Hearing Zhang Zhao call his name, Wang Shangda immediately stepped forward, glaring at Zhang Wei, who had been so rude before the throne.

"Our Great Zhou is an army of righteousness! If we want gold, jewels, and jade, we fight the enemy bravely and receive the Sage's reward. If we want office, land, and houses, we storm cities and seize strongholds and receive the Sage's reward!"

"What are the first three articles of our Great Zhou military law?" Zhang Zhao continued, questioning Wang Shangda.

Wang Shangda puffed out his chest and answered loudly, with a touch of pride: "Looters pay fivefold compensation. Rapists receive thirty strokes of the rod and forfeit five months' pay. Looting plus rape: death! Wantonly harming the common people: death!"

Wang Shangda's two consecutive "deaths" revealed not only the strict discipline of the Zhou army, but also a pride hidden deep within him — a pride that could be cultivated, and that could spread from one man to another.

"Starve to death but do not loot; freeze to death but do not tear down houses" — that was Yue's Army, and in the feudal age it could almost be said to have no predecessor and no successor. Even Qi's Army could not match it.

But an army of this era, so long as it could do the few things Wang Shangda had just listed, was already a standard army of righteousness.

Watching the irrepressible pride on Wang Shangda's face, the scholar called Zhang Wei suddenly prostrated himself, like a mountain of gold toppling and a pillar of jade falling.

"A borderland wild man, Zhang Yanqing, kowtows to the Sage! On behalf of the hundred thousand people of Chuzhou, this commoner humbly begs the righteous heavenly troops of Great Zhou to sweep away the foul miasma of Chuzhou and save us from fire and water!"

"Your name is Zhang Yanqing? Not Zhang Wei?" Zhang Zhao asked, caught between laughter and tears.

"This commoner deserves death ten thousand times over!" Zhang Yanqing kowtowed again, and at last a few traces of unease crept into his voice.

"So it is Zhang Yanqing of Haizhou. I was wondering who would dare borrow my name."

At that moment, Zhang Sanlang, who had already paid his respects to Zhang Zhao earlier, walked over from the side and knelt upon the ground as well.

"Sage, this commoner is the true Zhang Wei of Chuzhou. This man is Zhang Yanqing of Haizhou, a hero of the Huai-Si region. His father and grandfather were both army officers of Chuzhou, and he has long held the regard of the troops. If the Sage can spare three hundred elite armored soldiers, I and Zhang Yanqing can take Chuzhou for the Sage."

Hearing Zhang Wei speak thus, Zhang Yanqing also pressed himself to the ground and said in a loud voice: "Zhang Wei of Chuzhou is likewise a hero of the Huai region. It is said he has five hundred sworn brothers and roams freely across Hao, Si, Chu, and Hai.

So long as he is willing to serve as the vanguard of the Sage's great army, the two prefectures of Chu and Hai can certainly be pacified, and even the two prefectures of Hao and Si are within reach."

Zhang Zhao put on a look of being deeply moved, though in truth he had no idea who these two men were. Taking advantage of the fact that neither dared raise his head, he shot a glance at Zhang Liecheng, signaling him to investigate at once, while his mouth spoke with great delight.

"With the aid of two such heroes, the people of Huainan will surely be delivered from the harsh rule of Jiangning."

Though he was a transmigrator, Zhang Zhao was not omniscient.

What he did not know was that, historically, Zhang Yanqing had defended Chuzhou with only two thousand troops and had inflicted grievous casualties on the tens of thousands of soldiers led personally by Guo Rong. Even after the city fell, he had fought on in the streets, battling to the very last man.

At that time, all of Huainan had essentially fallen except Chuzhou. With a single isolated city, Zhang Yanqing had bloodied Guo Rong so badly that Guo Rong massacred the city in revenge after it fell — a measure of how heavy the Zhou casualties had been. Some later scholars even held that Zhang Yanqing was a better defender than Liu Renzhan.

As for Zhang Wei, historically he was the great leader of the White Armor Army of Huainan, the man most responsible for the Southern Tang's recapture of Yangzhou, and he later rose to command the Tianxiong Army of the Southern Tang's Jin Army.

In the time of the Last Lord of Li, on the eve of the Southern Tang's destruction, Zhang Wei said to his sons: "I must die for my country's calamity. If you do not follow me in death, you are neither loyal nor filial!"

With those words, he led his sons onto the battlefield. At the battle of Lishui, as the Southern Tang generals vied to flee, Zhang Xiong and his father and sons — eight men in all — fought on alone and refused to retreat, until every last one of them died on the field.

One could say that with this single scoop, Zhang Zhao had ladled away the two greatest heroes the Southern Tang had in the vicinity of Chuzhou, and indeed in all of Huainan.