Chapter 86

Huang Chaoran, hearing the hidden meaning in Che Hongda’s words, instantly stretched his neck, eyes gleaming, and asked eagerly: “What exactly have you found? Tell me quickly!”

Che Hongda calmly organized his thoughts before speaking: “Lately, in Shangmu City, I’ve noticed many armed troops I’ve never seen before.” His voice carried a faint tremor of fear and tension.

“To find out why, I specifically asked several local civilians—and learned that Jiang Mingyu has been recruiting soldiers on a massive scale without authorization.” As he spoke, a dark glint flashed in Che Hongda’s eyes.

He stared at Huang Chaoran’s face, eager for new intelligence, thinking: You surely don’t know about this yet.

After hearing this, Huang Chaoran first froze, then dismissed it with indifference: “So that’s all? I thought it was big news. I’ve known about this for a long time. Jiang Mingyu is now acting Garrison Commander of Shangmu—recruiting troops is just for defense against external threats.”

“Everyone in the regional headquarters knows this—it’s nothing unusual. This alone won’t be enough to kill Jiang Mingyu.” Huang Chaoran’s tone dripped with contempt.

Che Hongda snorted, lowering his voice: “You might find it hard to believe, but Jiang Mingyu has recruited tens of thousands of soldiers! Locals say even more troops are on their way.”

“By my rough estimate, Jiang Mingyu has already gathered at least forty to fifty thousand troops in Shangmu alone!” A look of deep concern spread across Che Hongda’s face.

“Forty to fifty thousand!” Huang Chaoran’s earlier laziness vanished instantly; his eyes lit up with renewed interest.

Seizing the moment, Che Hongda whispered slowly: “Why would a small city like Shangmu need so many troops? Isn’t this clearly preparing for rebellion? This is the perfect chance to eliminate Jiang Mingyu!”

Che Hongda murmured: “Jiang Mingyu’s unauthorized mass conscription reveals his true intent beyond doubt.” His eyes darkened, his voice low and resolute. “If you report this to the Inspector, even his silver tongue won’t save him from death.”

Huang Chaoran’s eyes flashed with sudden brilliance; joy surged across his face, uncontainable. He exclaimed: “Exactly! Jiang Mingyu gathering such a massive army—what else could it be but rebellion? This alone is enough to destroy his family and execute him on the spot!”

Che Hongda nodded vigorously, agreeing: “Precisely! This matter is of utmost gravity—please, Master Huang, hurry to petition the Inspector to stop Jiang Mingyu’s rebellion and rid the people of this threat. Then you may soon clear your name and restore your glory!” His tone was fervent, hopeful.

Just as Huang Chaoran was about to nod again, the joy on his face faded. He frowned, shaking his head helplessly: “This won’t work. For certain reasons, Inspector Wang Zhe has long favored Jiang Mingyu. Even if we report this, Wang Zhe will almost certainly shield him and cover it up. Then I’ll become the nuisance who angers the Inspector.”

Upon hearing Wang Zhe favored Jiang Mingyu, Che Hongda’s face went blank, then slumped in despair. His right hand absently scratched his messy topknot, his expression dull and lifeless.

Just as he sank into self-pity, Huang Chaoran pushed himself up from the table, leaning forward with an air of eager explanation, shaking his head: “No, no—Regional Military Commissioner Yu Simo doesn’t just have Inspector Wang Zhe—he also has Vice Commissioner Tang Cheng!”

“Tang Cheng is a trusted henchman of the Rabbit Chancellor, and has always been locked in bitter rivalry with Wang Zhe, the Crane Chancellor’s favorite. We can exploit this situation—have Tang Cheng strike Jiang Mingyu, killing two birds with one stone: a golden chance to bring down Wang Zhe!”

As he spoke, Huang Chaoran’s eyes darted, a sly smile curling at his lips.

“Besides, I’m on close personal terms with Tang Cheng—we’ve had frequent dealings. If I ask him to help me subdue Jiang Mingyu, he has no reason to refuse. Even if Wang Zhe finds out later, with the Rabbit Chancellor backing him, Wang Zhe will have to swallow his anger.”

Huang Chaoran spoke with flying spittle, growing more excited by the moment, convinced this plan was utterly brilliant.

“Perfect! No time to waste—let’s go find Tang Cheng and discuss it in detail.” With that, Huang Chaoran swept his sleeve dramatically, humming a cheerful tune, as if he’d just seized Jiang Mingyu’s fatal weakness. He took a stride three feet long and drifted away.

Seeing Huang Chaoran’s renewed enthusiasm, Che Hongda regained his confidence and hurried after him.

The north wind howled; the northern garrison camp of Shangmu had expanded to more than three times its original size.

On the broad parade ground, over forty thousand soldiers, recruited from all over, stood at attention, raising their spears high under the watchful eye of Commander Qiao the Hell-King, shouting deafening war cries to build combat strength.

At that moment, a dozen men in coarse cloth arrived against the snowstorm at the camp gate.

Their leader was a tall, broad-shouldered man, his face rugged, with thick whiskers on both cheeks, yet his lips curved in a warm, amiable smile.

He looked up carefully at the large characters above the gate—“Garrison Camp”—then blew a soft whistle and said calmly: “After traveling so far, we’ve finally arrived.” With that, he strode through the gate, and the others followed in single file.

After a while, Li Goudan, the clerk in charge of registration, sized them up from head to toe and barked: “Where are you from?”

The leader bowed with both hands, politely replying: “My lord, we’re from Dujiacun, thirty li west of the city. I’m Du Gaocen; these are my fellow villagers. We heard about the recruitment and came to enlist.”

Li Goudan nodded: “Good. All of you look strong and sturdy. I’ll take you all. Line up one by one, give your names, then go inside to collect uniforms and weapons.”

After changing into his uniform and taking up his weapon, Du Gaocen looked around, his expression that of a first-time visitor—nervous, awestruck, muttering: “My, this Garrison Camp is enormous!”

The local soldiers, seeing his foolish demeanor, mocked them as “frogs at the bottom of a well.”

Night fell; the noisy garrison gradually quieted as everyone drifted off to sleep...

The full moon cast a hazy glow through the window lattices, illuminating the barracks.

Du Gaocen, who should have been asleep, suddenly opened his eyes. He rose silently, tiptoed to the dozen sleeping brothers, and gave a soft cough.

Instantly, they awoke, rose quietly, slipped on their shoes, and followed Du Gaocen in silence toward the barracks door.

The night was still, save for the wind whistling through the treetops.

A young man whispered low: “Boss, all the brothers are here.”

Du Gaocen now wore the arrogant, domineering air of his mountain stronghold. He hissed: “Good! Move quietly—don’t wake the guards. Go!”

He strode out, and the dozen men followed, striding with long steps, trying not to make a sound.

Their figures vanished quickly into the swirling snow, their footprints buried beneath fresh flakes—as if they had never been there.

Early the next morning, Blackface Yankwang Tuxesiluo was still asleep when a soldier shook him awake. Tuxesiluo scowled, rolling his eyes, about to drift back to sleep—when the soldier gasped: “Sir! Something terrible has happened!”