Chapter 829: Knocking and Beating

Since we are in a partnership, now that Pan Yun has come, she naturally must meet the men from each of the silver mines.

No need for Pan Yun to invite them—each mine's foreman came to her on their own.

Whether from the Wu Lin Alliance, wandering martial artists, or civilian merchant guilds, all came to the Daoist temple halfway up the mountain to seek an audience with Pan Yun.

They didn't come empty-handed—some carried a chicken, some a fish, and even if they had nothing better, a bundle of greens counted as a gift.

Pan Yun was pleased with their offerings; this way, she wouldn't have to worry about ingredients for dinner.

The resources of Wa country are still meager.

In Great Ming, though ordinary folk were poor, chickens, ducks, pigs, sheep, and fish weren't hard to buy—every household kept some.

Not to mention greens—unless it was a famine year, greens were always plentiful.

But not here in Wa country; the portions are tiny, crops are sparse, and livestock is scarce.

At first, people paid for ingredients, but as crowds surged and mining demanded immense strength—consuming vast amounts of meat—the supply briefly ran out entirely, leaving nothing to buy.

As a result, prices in the Omori village area skyrocketed.

But clever, hardworking Han people found a way—some saw the opportunity and stopped mining altogether, organizing teams to travel to nearby rural villages to buy agricultural goods, then hauling them back, making more profit than mining.

Other miners simply found arable land in the mountains, planted vegetables, and raised a flock of chickens…

After half a year, they harvested several rounds of vegetables, the chickens laid eggs, and even a pig was ready to slaughter.

The villagers below the mountain went from welcoming them, to rejecting them, then back to welcoming them.

The small village once quietly nestled at the mountain's foot had grown into a bustling market; the shortcut from Omori Village to Onsen Town was two-thirds complete, linking villages along the way, while landowners drawn by the news seized the surrounding land and built teahouses and inns.

Wang Cong also acquired several plots with the help of the Masuda family, but he wasn't in a hurry to build—he'd poured all his manpower and funds into maritime trade.

Everyone was busy, so the Daoist Priests of the Tian Shi Fu seemed the most idle.

The Daoist Priests didn't go down the mines—they earned money by surveying suitable mining sites: designing mine entrances and safety exits, orienting dwellings for feng shui, even treating illnesses and prescribing medicine.

Of course, these were all minor tasks.

As Daoist Priests, their main duties here were two: first, to spread the Dao!

The temple halfway up the mountain was the first structure built, and even the imperial court troops used it as cover.

Second, to help design and build silver-refining workshops.

In short, they were skilled technicians.

But since Wa country was far from Great Ming, the Daoist Priests left here had little interest in building achievements here;

Spreading the Dao~~

The Monks were more enthusiastic; Daoism emphasized fate, so they were equally eager.

Their doors stayed open daily—come if you will, they never went down the mountain to preach.

Even if a kind soul came to burn incense, if they didn't take to the person's aura, the Daoist Priests would ignore them.

Right now, Zhang Weiliang lifted his eyelids lazily, glanced at the Wa man bowing ninety degrees before him, and said flatly in Wa language: "Your request is too great; this humble Daoist has limited ability. Please seek a more capable master."

"My lord is too modest—I know you are a high Daoist of Great Ming; you must know a solution. I heard there's an extremely powerful Daoist here named Pan…"

Zhang Weiliang lied without blinking: "If you've heard that, you should know she's returned to her homeland—she's not here."

At that moment, Pan Yun drifted past behind them.

Hearing this, she turned her head and glanced at the Wa man—his karmic debts tangled around him, his aura deeply unpleasant.

She turned away, drifting past as if she'd noticed nothing.

In the back courtyard, she rolled up her sleeves, snatched a chicken flying toward her, handed it to her senior brother, then squatted by the basin to wash vegetables.

Guests who brought ingredients to cook were considerate—no matter their background, all squatted together in the courtyard preparing food.

Soon, when Zhang Weiliang finished dealing with the Wa man and returned, the pot was clean, oil was heating, and stir-frying had begun.

Pan Yun sat on a small stool, one leg bent, chatting with the mine owners.

Zhang Weiliang walked over with a grim face, dragged a stool beside her, and sat in silence.

Pan Yun glanced at him and asked: "Who was that man? Why is he burdened with so much karmic debt?"

"Someone from the Uchida clan—they want to mend ties, come every few days to donate money to the temple, and of course, they want to meet you. But you walked past him and he didn't recognize you."

The Uchida clan and Pan Yun are mortal enemies—she not only seized their territory, but their clan chief died because of her.

She thought they'd fight her to the death.

Yet they adapted quickly: barred from entering Weigang, they sent lower-ranking families instead, courting connections everywhere to befriend Wang Cong.

Knowing Omori Village was Pan Yun's stronghold, they sent emissaries here—humble, gentle, generous, pouring coins into the temple.

"In their words," Zhang Weiliang said flatly, "they wish to bury their grudge with a smile. Sounds magnanimous—but such a deep grudge, reduced to such groveling? Their intentions are large. They've hidden their malice deep inside, waiting for an opening to strike back."

Pan Yun looked at him with approval: "You've grown!"

Zhang Weiliang grumbled: "I'm not an idiot. A lord's humiliation demands death—how much more so when we killed their clan chief and that damn holy maiden? How could they forget? Do you think we could forget their village massacre?"

"Exactly!" said another: "Though we martial folk should be broad-minded and not cling to grudges—after all, vengeance breeds endless cycles—but a village massacre, the slaughter of innocents—if we forget that, we're worse than beasts."

"Even wolves remember grudges and protect their packs—how much more so we humans?"

"Enough, enough," said another, "can you stop quoting classics? The point is just to watch out for the Uchida clan. But the real problem now is the imperial court wants to seize our mines."

"Seize our mines? Ha, you can pack up and leave—but your miners won't go. The court will take them."

"Damn it! We spent so much money training these skilled hands—why should we hand them over to the court?"

"You can't cut off someone's livelihood."

"Five taels a month? What kind of livelihood is that?"

Pan Yun sighed: "A true hero's spirit—can't even be bothered by five taels a month."

The crowd fell silent.

Pan Yun stood up, brushing off her seat: "Gentlemen, go home after dinner."

"Daoist Pan, aren't you going to help us?"

Pan Yun spread her hands: "I'm just a lowly Daoist Priest—what ability do I have to manage all of you?"

"Among us, you're the most powerful, and it was you who discovered the silver mountain and presented it to Your Majesty…"

"Stop!" Pan Yun asked with a smile: "Just now, you said I presented the silver mountain to whom?"

The man hesitated, then said: "Presented it to Your Majesty."

"Since you presented it to Your Majesty, the silver mountain belongs to him," Pan Yun's smile faded slightly: "Gentlemen, what we're doing now is prying into the Emperor's property—under Great Ming law, this is a capital offense!"

Everyone fell silent; the courtyard grew utterly still, even the sound of stir-frying softened by three-tenths, afraid the clatter might disturb anyone.

Seeing their grim faces, Pan Yun's expression softened again, speaking more gently: "But this is only the beginning of all trades. Your Majesty still remembers the massacre of the coastal villages by the Japanese pirates, so he turns a blind eye—it's a kind of compensation to the people of the southeast coast."

But compensation always has a limit—whether one year, two years, or more—it's all up to a single word from His Imperial Majesty."

Pan Yun spoke slowly: "Gentlemen, I am a loyal subject and a good citizen."

Many in the courtyard changed expression, chests heaving with resentment, yet unable to refute her.

They couldn't tell Pan Yun: "Forget being a good citizen—why be loyal to the Emperor? Just focus on making money…"

Some things can be done, and even whispered privately, but never spoken aloud openly.

Moreover, not everyone here truly disagreed with Pan Yun's words.

In the world of the rivers and lakes, loyalty and righteousness are paramount—if you lose loyalty, how can you ever keep righteousness?

Who would dare associate with such a person?

Yet… to abandon this fledgling enterprise now, they could not bear it.

After all, they'd only been mining in Japan for less than a year, and had earned only a little money so far.

As they pondered, footsteps sounded outside the courtyard; someone shouted: "Jia Guan and Lord Kuang have arrived!"

"Where is everyone? Why is not a single soul here?"

"These Daoist Priests in the temple are so lazy—even in broad daylight they're slacking off…"

Zhang Weiliang leapt up in fury—he was a second-generation heir, and being bullied by Pan Yun was one thing, but how could a eunuch and a minor official dare order him around?

Was he here to serve them their meals?

He didn't even glance at Pan Yun; with a bang, he yanked open the courtyard gate, slamming it against the wall, then stormed out: "Who's shouting and barking inside this temple? If you disturb the gods, who will suffer the misfortune?"

Pan Yun rubbed her nose; soon after, Zhang Weiliang led the group in, his face pale.

Those in the courtyard rose upon seeing Jia Cong and the brocade uniform guards behind him, their gazes filled with resentment and hatred.

Jia Cong sneered dismissively, his eyes sweeping the courtyard until they landed on Pan Yun, still sitting cross-legged on a small stool.

Pan Yun sat there, watching him.

After a long moment, he frowned: "You look quite young. Wasn't Wang Zhen supposed to send Guo Jing to manage the silver mountain in Japan? How did you take his place?"

Jia Cong's smile vanished instantly. He stared silently at Pan Yun for two breaths, then broke into sweat and averted his gaze first, forcing a laugh: "I'm merely sent by the Wang Zhangyin Sect. Daoist Priest Pan, perhaps you heard a false rumor."

Pan Yun rolled her eyes: "Wang Zhen told me himself—I'm not deaf."

She paused, then raised an eyebrow: "Hmm… could it be that because of the corpse pit case at the Mitsui villa, which exposed the collusion between Prince Lu and Wang Zhen in supplying military gear to the Northern Hu, Guo Jing is now stuck in Datong and you got the chance?"

Jia Cong's face paled; his voice sharpened: "Daoist Priest Pan, don't speak nonsense."

Seeing Pan Yun's expression darken with a clang, his heart leapt; his tone dropped eight octaves, sounding guilty: "I—I mean, these are all baseless rumors—spreading falsehoods is bad…"

Pan Yun snorted, lifted her chin, and asked directly: "What are you here for? To burn incense? To draw lots? To consult the oracle?"

He'd underestimated this person—he'd been complacent.

Of course—someone who could outmaneuver Wang Zhangyin couldn't possibly be ordinary.

Jia Cong instantly changed tactics, bowing slightly with newfound respect: "Upon hearing of Daoist Priest Pan's arrival, I've prepared a modest feast of wine and dishes to welcome you. I humbly beg you to grace us with your presence."

"You need to bring so many people just to invite me to dinner?" Pan Yun shook her head: "Jia Supervisor, you're doing it wrong. Is it Lord Kuang who won't comply, or are your brocade uniform guards disobedient?"

Kuang Ping silently raised his head toward Pan Yun, his eyes full of accusation.

The brocade uniform guards standing behind him were also familiar with Pan Yun, and stood quietly.

Only one young eunuch behind Jia Cong shrieked: "How dare you! Our lord is a Supervisor—what's this 'Supervisor' nonsense…"

"Shut up!" Jia Cong roared at the boy, then smiled at Pan Yun: "My subordinates are unruly—forgive me, Daoist Priest Pan."

Pan Yun waved her hand, unconcerned: "No need for dinner. Your goodwill is enough. But we've already prepared our meal—why don't you join us for a bite?"

At Pan Yun's mention, those holding spatulas remembered the dishes in the woks and hurriedly stirred them up.

Burnt—

The stirrer grinned at everyone, poured a ladle of water over the food, and comforted them: "No problem, no problem—it's still edible."

Pan Yun: …

Everyone: …

Fortunately, they had more than just this one dish.

Jia Cong and his party ended up staying, sitting with the band of wandering men to eat.

Pan Yun pretended not to notice Jia Cong's disgusted expression, picked up her chopsticks, and grabbed a piece of meat: "Everyone, eat!"

Seeing Pan Yun begin, the others followed suit.

The missing young eunuch panted in, carrying a jar of wine, claiming it was what Jia Cong had prepared for Pan Yun.

Pan Yun was straightforward: she smashed open the jar's seal, poured the wine, and called to the young eunuch: "Sit down and eat too. Zhang Weiliang, give this kid a seat."

The young eunuch was only eleven or twelve—still younger than Pan Yun.

Zhang Weiliang rose with his bowl, dragged over a small stool beside another table, shoved the boy onto it, ladled rice into his bowl, and shoved chopsticks into his hands.

Jia Cong opened his mouth—he'd planned to have the boy serve him food, to regain some dignity.

Pan Yun poured him wine, curiously asking: "Jia Supervisor, where's your hometown?"

Jia Cong: … Who asks a eunuch about his hometown first thing when chatting?

Jia Cong still muttered, sullenly: "Hebei."

Pan Yun suddenly understood: "Wang Zhen, fellow townsman?"

Jia Cong nodded proudly.

Wang Zhen castrated himself to enter the palace—how did you enter?

Pan Yun swallowed the words she was about to speak, choosing not to expose his shame in public, and instead asked: "Do you still have family?"

Jia Cong paused; the smile on his face faded slightly: "I still have an older brother."

Pan Yun nodded: "So there's still an heir—no wonder the Department of Internal Affairs chose you for Wa Country."

Jia Cong's expression grew even paler; his vitality and spirit diminished by a third.