Chapter 89: A Small Trial of Strength

In the pitch-black, silent night, Du Gaocen’s triumphant smile froze instantly, for Tukesiluo’s silver blade had silently drawn and pressed coldly against his throat.

Du Gaocen felt his vision darken, as if he already saw the demon king’s fangs—he never imagined the “women” he had mocked possessed such swift skill.

This sudden turn stunned the other bandits; they stood frozen, their weapons forgotten, no thought of resistance crossing their minds.

Tukesiluo snorted coldly and said calmly, “Bring them in.” No sooner had the words left his lips than dozens of soldiers surged from the surrounding darkness, swords raised, surrounding the bandits.

The bandits, instantly encircled by warriors, turned pale and meekly dropped their weapons; the clatter echoed through the night.

The crisp sound of weapons hitting the ground jolted Du Gaocen from his daze; he trembled and asked, “W-what’s going on?”

Tukesiluo held his blade in one hand, brushed his disheveled hair with the other, and said indifferently, “Surprised? You thought your plan flawless, but you’ve been under our lord’s control all along.”

“Enough. It’s freezing cold—I don’t want to waste more words.”

“It’s late. I’m too tired to argue. Enjoy your final night—you’ll meet Wei Aotian in hell tomorrow.” Tukesiluo raised his brow and ordered, “Take them to the cells. Guard them tightly—await our lord’s judgment!”

As Du Gaocen was dragged away, he cast a regretful glance at the lowly thug who had warned him earlier—clearly wishing he’d listened.

Before dawn broke, Jiang Mingyu received urgent news and rushed to the city defense camp. After Tukesiluo recounted the night’s events in detail, Jiang Mingyu’s gloomy gaze settled on the dozen bandits kneeling before him, his face as dark as water.

Jiang Mingyu spoke coldly: “Take these bandits tonight to the training ground and execute them by beheading—to avenge the fallen soldiers!” His voice brimmed with murderous intent.

As the heads of Du Gaocen and the others rolled through the swirling snow, the brief turmoil within the camp subsided once more, returning to a deathly silence.

Meanwhile, Tang Cheng’an, seated in his carriage heading toward Shangmu County, was lost in a world of thrilling anticipation. Cold wind howled through the window, but he felt nothing—his mind filled entirely with sweet imaginings.

Huang Chaoran’s words were indeed correct: Jiang Mingyu was plotting rebellion in Shangmu.

If Tang Cheng’an could witness the crime firsthand and report it to the Rabbit Chancellor, Jiang Mingyu and Wang Zhe would have no chance of survival.

Most crucially, once this reached His Majesty’s ears, it would only fuel the fire.

At that point, the Crane Chancellor would surely face death, and the Rabbit Chancellor’s ascension as Chief Minister was imminent.

As the chief architect of this success, his own future was boundless.

Thinking of this, Tang Cheng’an even began to feel affection and anticipation toward Shangmu, which he had once viewed as a flood or a beast.

Impatient as he was, Tang Cheng’an kept shouting to the driver: “Faster! Faster!”

Outside, the snowstorm still howled; with the driver’s whistle, Tang Cheng’an’s carriage vanished into the distance, swallowed by the blizzard.

Shangmu County.

Watching Jiang Mingyu’s thoughtful expression, Tukesiluo asked, “My lord, what are you pondering?”

Jiang Mingyu snapped out of his thoughts and smiled warmly: “I was thinking it’s time to let you and your men stretch your limbs.”

Tukesiluo frowned, puzzled: “What do you mean?”

Jiang Mingyu narrowed his eyes, a sly smile curling his lips, and softly uttered two words: “Bandit suppression.”

Tukesiluo blinked, repeating: “Bandit suppression?”

Jiang Mingyu turned to gaze out the window at the swirling snow and said slowly: “From the thieves of Qinglong Zhai to the murderers of Little Hawk Mountain, to today’s Du Gaocen and his men—now openly infiltrating our camp, inciting mutiny, plotting my life.”

“You witnessed tonight how brazen these lawless bandits have become. To prevent future chaos, I’ve decided to launch a full-scale campaign starting tomorrow, eradicating all bandits within the county.”

A flash of cold light passed through Jiang Mingyu’s eyes; his voice was firm and resolute.

Tukesiluo exhaled a puff of white mist, hesitating: “My lord, you’re right—but launching troops in this bitter cold is harsh on the soldiers. Could we wait a few days?”

Jiang Mingyu stared at the snow outside, shaking his head gently: “Wait until when? Until spring in March? By early spring, the foreign enemies will return—and then where will we find the strength to hunt bandits?”

Tukesiluo furrowed his brow, still pondering the connection. Seeing this, Jiang Mingyu’s face softened with concern, and he continued patiently.

“Most importantly—have you considered what if some surviving bandits seek revenge for Du Gaocen and the others?”

Tukesiluo frowned deeply, unable to grasp the link, and asked: “What do you mean?”

Jiang Mingyu explained patiently: “I fear those vengeful bandits, powerless against my army, may secretly ally with foreign tribes to aid their invasion of Shangmu. If these bandits, familiar with the terrain, become traitorous insiders, the disaster for our people will be catastrophic.”

Tukesiluo’s eyes shifted as understanding slowly dawned; he murmured: “So my lord fears they might defect to the enemy and become spies.”

Jiang Mingyu nodded gravely: “What I’ve said is speculation—but the stakes are too high to ignore. The safest course is to eliminate all bandits before anything happens. Even if I’m overcautious, wiping them out brings only benefits to the people.”

Tukesiluo suddenly understood and nodded firmly: “My lord’s analysis is profound. I fully comprehend your reasoning and fully support this decision.”

Jiang Mingyu, seeing Tukesiluo’s shift in attitude, nodded slightly and added: “Beyond this, I have deeper considerations...”

Jiang Mingyu’s sharp gaze settled on Tukesiluo, and he asked thoughtfully: “May I ask—how do you judge the current combat readiness of our troops after training?”

Tukesiluo’s eyes brightened slightly, his tone confident: “Not to boast, my lord, but their progress has been astonishing. Even if the enemy attacks now, I’m certain I can lead them to fight bravely—and with the right moment, crush the enemy entirely.”

Clearly, the Black-faced Yama, as their trainer, had absolute faith in his soldiers.

Jiang Mingyu slowly shook his head and said calmly: “I don’t doubt your training, nor their rapid growth. But in my view, they still lack one crucial thing.”

Tukesiluo frowned, straining to grasp Jiang Mingyu’s meaning.

“What my lord means is...”

Jiang Mingyu took over gently: “What they lack most is battlefield experience—they’ve never faced blade-to-blade combat, never tasted blood and chaos.”

“You saw it yourself—just because ten or so men died, the entire army was thrown into disarray, morale shattered. If foreign tribes launched a surprise attack, how many would have the courage to die for their cause?”

Jiang Mingyu murmured to himself: “None. Only through the baptism of fire, only by facing the terror of life and death, can they become true soldiers.”

“This bandit suppression campaign is a perfect chance to forge them into sharp weapons. Do you understand?” Jiang Mingyu’s eyes gleamed with wisdom.

Tukesiluo suddenly understood and nodded firmly: “My lord is absolutely right. I understand.”

Jiang Mingyu smiled in satisfaction and ordered: “Since you understand, dispatch scouts today to track the bandits’ movements. Have the city defense camp ready—tomorrow we’ll begin with a small trial of our strength.”

As Tang Cheng’an entered Shangmu City, he looked around: the houses on both sides were clean and well-maintained, the city gates heavily guarded—nothing like the ruined, desolate Shangmu he had imagined.

He unconsciously rubbed his eyes and asked the driver in surprise: “Is this really Shangmu County?”

Seeing the driver nod firmly, Tang Cheng’an marveled: “The city gates are so tightly guarded, the houses so renewed—Jiang Mingyu clearly has real administrative talent. This place has prospered.”

But as soon as he spoke, he sighed softly: “Too bad such a capable, wise man is heading down the path of rebellion. What a tragedy.”

The driver asked sharply: “My lord, shall we proceed directly to the city defense camp to investigate?”

Tang Cheng’an stroked his chin, then slowly shook his head: “Not yet. We’ve just arrived—the situation is unclear. First, find an inn, rest, and quietly gather the truth.”

He knew Huang Chaoran had a personal grudge against Jiang Mingyu. Though he suspected Jiang’s rebellion was likely, he couldn’t rule out error. If he acted rashly based on suspicion, it would harm him. It would give Inspector Wang Zhe grounds to punish him—he must be extremely cautious.

Tang Cheng’an ordered the driver to find an inn; once confirmed, the carriage turned toward the inn’s direction.