Chapter 63: Purpose

In the days that followed, the common folk of Yan'an Prefecture lived as if it were New Year.

Word of a heroic champion spread swiftly among the refugees; people said they appeared at night in large mounted bands, tossing grain into the yards of poor households.

Bundled in hemp sacks, or wrapped in tattered clothes when there were no sacks, and when even tattered clothes were lacking, they simply scattered it across the yard, like feeding chickens.

When startled commoners asked their name, some said their leader was called Tiger General.

But who Tiger General was, no one knew; what great deeds Tiger General had done, no one knew either.

They only knew he sent men to cast food to the poor and issued warnings to wealthy houses and powerful families, telling them to treat the common folk better.

From village to village, the news spread at lightning speed through the commoners out begging, until it blanketed the three counties of Fushi, Ansai, and Ganquan, then radiated outward.

And in Yan'an Prefecture itself, Prefect Zhang Nian received two letters signed "Tiger General" within the span of three days.

One said that in a cave in the northwest of Fushi County, a large store of grain and rice awaited his collection, and bade him continue the famine relief in Yan'an Prefecture.

Before that batch of grain was even fully collected, another letter arrived — again from Tiger General, but in a different hand — directing him to a cave in Ansai County to collect grain.

Again it bade him continue the famine relief in Yan'an Prefecture, and further issued a warning: if a letter could be placed inside the prefectural yamen, then the rear residence of the prefectural yamen could be entered just as easily; should he dare embezzle, they would simply change the prefect.

This left Prefect Zhang Nian alarmed, angered, and delighted all at once.

His delight came from the fact that the government granaries, which had been on the verge of running dry, finally had a source of supply — these two batches of grain far outstripped what had been raised by selling honorary titles and ranks.

In a very short time, public order around the city of Yan'an Prefecture abruptly improved; refugees on the roads dwindled, and the roving bands preying on wealthy households vanished.

Highway robbery still occurred now and then, of course — even in years of peace, such things were unavoidable.

The common folk of Yan'an Prefecture wanted to know who Tiger General was; those who could still scrape by wished to meet Tiger General, to repay the kindness of the grain.

Those who could not scrape by wanted even more to meet him, to simply throw in their lot with him, leading his horse and holding his stirrup, so they might at least cling to a full belly.

The authorities were even more desperate to know who Tiger General was, and above all, to know where he had gotten so much grain.

Because of the name Tiger General, Prefect Zhang Nian even sent men specially to summon Xiao Guandou, who was in mourning for his grandfather, to the prefectural yamen.

After sounding him out with words, he discovered that Assistant Commander Xiao, though from a military family, did not possess the slightest hint of a tiger's fierceness.

The whole of Yan'an Prefecture was searching for Tiger General.

Yet no one could possibly imagine what Tiger General was actually doing.

In truth, Old Master Liu already knew that his two sons, his brother-in-law, and Cao Yao were up to something in the Black Dragon Mountains.

Once you turn to banditry, once you take that first step, there is no road back.

But he did not stop them.

Time and again his youngest son tried to persuade him; Liu Xiangyu could still hold firm — even as the world grew worse by the day, he could hold himself back from giving the tottering realm a shove.

But holding firm was his own affair; if he truly swallowed his pride, he could always find work to feed his family. The clansmen could not — if they held firm any longer, they would starve to death.

And even if the clansmen turned to banditry, without his own qilin son to lead them, their fate would be nothing more than to be butchered and thrown into a ditch.

A father always believes his own son is the most promising.

On the day Liu Chengzong went out to scout, Liu Xiangyu also left home, mingling among the villagers heading out to prey on wealthy households.

People say hearing is false, seeing is true; Old Master Liu resolved to use his own eyes to measure this chaotic world under the great calamity.

But his purpose was no longer to see if there was any other path to survival, nor to see whether the starving and the displaced could survive by following the rules.

He wanted to see the living conditions of the poorest commoners, to see how much of the impoverished people's hearts the imperial court still held.

As it turned out, barely a hundred paces beyond the Black Dragon Mountains, he encountered the poorest of commoners — only this commoner could not tell him his feelings toward the imperial court.

Dead for two days, half-buried in the yellow earth, like a tree trunk stripped of all its bark.

The villagers said this man had taken his own life; no one knew where he came from. He had walked until he could walk no farther, and then hanged himself.

There had been a tree here before, and the man had been wearing clothes.

Yesterday the tree was gone, and the man's clothes were gone too.

Those who passed by could not bear to see his corpse exposed in the wilds, and in their hearts wished to dig a pit and bury him.

But everyone was too weak from hunger; even if they had the strength, they had to save it for foraging. So as they passed, they simply added a handful of yellow earth to cover him.

It was not only the people of Black Dragon Mountain — even the starving refugees hurrying off to plunder would add earth. In another two days, he would be fully buried.

Liu Xiangyu's luck was poor; all the wealthy households in the vicinity had already been eaten bare by the commoners.

He followed the band for a day, covering sixty or seventy li, setting out from Black Dragon Mountain toward the prefectural city, then switched to another road to return home halfway.

The general situation was this: the closer one got to the prefectural city, the worse the public order and the more the dead — but he believed the reverse was also true.

The area within a range of ten to forty li from the prefectural city was likely the most chaotic of all.

That long journey proved immensely instructive for Liu Xiangyu.

He was now basically convinced that imperial troops marching through Yan'an Prefecture would struggle to obtain supplies, and that government decrees issued in Yan'an Prefecture would struggle to receive any response.

The Great Ming court's control over Yan'an Prefecture in Shaanxi was at an unprecedented low point.

Yet even after his investigation, Liu Xiangyu still did not support his son becoming a bandit.

He was deathly afraid that his son would mistake banditry — a mere expedient in the face of drought — for a cause he ought to pursue as his life's work.

Banditry should be a means, not an end.

It had been many years since he had last scolded his sons.

While his two sons and brother-in-law were out doing their work, Liu Xiangyu stayed home, rolling up his sleeves and pondering how best to give them both a proper dressing-down.

He also took the opportunity to mobilize the clan to give the idle cave dwellings a thorough cleaning.

His sons had gone out to plunder the wealthy — surely they wouldn't come back empty-handed?

If they truly did come back empty-handed, then there would be no need for scolding; it would simply mean that turning outlaw, a path of extreme difficulty, was not suited to them.

He had even thought through how to gather intelligence on troop movements from the Yan'an Guard in the future.

The one thing he had not considered was the problem of having nowhere to store the grain they brought back.

Until that night, just as he had fallen asleep, he was jolted awake by the shouts of the village folk.

Throwing on his clothes and rushing out of the courtyard, he saw everyone running madly toward the outside of the mountain.

The carts they had pushed out came back — one cart, two carts, piled high with grain.

He heard Guo Zhashi loudly urging every household to bring out their dustpans and shovels, to hide the cart tracks before daybreak.

No one spoke to him; only Little Windchaser stretched out his long legs and circled around him, occasionally lifting his head to bark twice.

Every man, woman, and child of Black Dragon Mountain pitched in, running like a gust of wind.

A smile also crept onto Liu Laoye's face. His two sons knew they had messed up and were avoiding him.

It looked like over four hundred dan of grain — enough to keep Black Dragon Mountain going until the seventh month.

Liu Xiangyu thought his sons had worked hard on this trip. They must have robbed a wealthy household.

The walled compound of a wealthy household was no easy target.

But who could have guessed that people would excitedly unload cart after cart without saying a word, then send the wheels spinning again, vanishing into the mountain pass in the dark of night.

Half a shichen later, they returned as a fully laden convoy. This time it was not just carts — dozens of plow oxen, mules, and donkeys were all carrying grain.

Even the young men were hauling grain back on their backs.

Soon the village entrance was piled high with grain, yet the grain-transport procession still showed no sign of stopping.

One trip, another trip, and yet another.

Liu the Provincial Graduate's blood pressure exceeded his height, and he lost the ability to think.

If success or failure were judged solely by grain plundered, he felt the title of "bandit" no longer suited his sons.

With this kind of grain-procuring ability, working for the imperial court would put the Grain Supply Censor out of a job.

And if they didn't work for the imperial court… Liu Xiangyu stroked his beard and shook his head.

The Great Ming was in danger!