Chapter 75

At sunset, the officials under Suzhou’s jurisdiction finally all arrived.

Those within the city had come early, but the county magistrates and deputy magistrates from outlying counties, due to their greater distance, even riding horses could not avoid being late.

The commander of the Taihu Water Camp, stationed outside the city, also arrived late.

The Song Dynasty maintained a navy; major lakes like Taihu, Poyang, and Dongting each had a water camp, and coastal regions did too, but the coastal navy’s organization was superior to that of the inland lakes.

At this moment, red candles burned high in the prefect’s hall, illuminating the entire room as brightly as daylight.

Zhao Ti scanned the two sides from his chair—left side civil, right side military—each man’s expression different.

On the left, the first was the Suzhou Vice-Prefect, his face gleeful; traditionally, prefects and vice-prefects clashed, for the vice-prefect held oversight authority and could directly petition the Emperor with secret reports, forcing the prefect to remain vigilant—and this Suzhou vice-prefect was a New Party member.

On the right, the first was the Suzhou Military Commandant, his face dark, beard thick, expression dazed, lips forced into a stiff smile—he clearly was not accustomed to flattery.

As for the Transport Commissioner, Prison Supervisor, Grain Storage Officer, and Judicial Officer, their expressions varied, most cautious, eyes fixed ahead, daring not a single improper motion.

Zhao Ti swept his gaze across them all and said coolly: “Bandits have proliferated under Suzhou’s jurisdiction. Wang Zhonghuan ignored and investigated nothing, allowing it to fester—he has already been cast into my prison. What do you have to say?”

Though most officials had heard rumors beforehand, hearing it now still sank their hearts.

Suzhou was not the provincial capital, yet it was extraordinarily prosperous, with vital canal and water transport; the prefect held a rank of fourth grade, equal to that of capitals in impoverished military circuits.

More importantly, Wang Zhonghuan was the son of Grand Chancellor Wang Gui, who had died several years ago, but whose family still produced many officials, with disciples and former subordinates scattered everywhere—yet the Prince of Yan had simply removed him without hesitation.

There was no room for negotiation; he was dragged straight from the yamen and thrown into the street, his official hat knocked off on the spot, then immediately imprisoned.

The Prince of Yan was New Party; Wang Zhonghuan was Old Party. Everyone present immediately thought of one word: factional strife.

Factional strife meant life or death: not only must you destroy your rival, but you must brand his men, exile them, force his women into the courtesan bureaus, leaving no chance for revival—until the enemy was utterly broken, you would not stop.

Zhao Ti observed them, reading their expressions, and sneered: “No one has anything to say?”

The civil officials remained silent; regardless of truth or falsehood, this was the prefect’s burden, unrelated to their own duties.

Yet the Military Commandant on the right could no longer hold back; he opened his mouth, then cautiously rose and bowed: “Your Highness, this official has served in Suzhou for many years—I have never seen any major bandits.”

At his words, all around were stunned—they thought this fool would lose his post. Losing the Military Commandant position was minor; being thrown into prison was grave—and he was no Old Party member, so why involve himself in this?

Zhao Ti glanced at him and said: “Commandant Sun, elaborate.”

This commandant’s surname was Sun, named Sun Tong; he had held this post for years without promotion. Military promotions were hard enough, and local military posts were limited—there were only so many Commandants, one position per man—and with his blunt, honest nature, advancement was even less likely.

Sun Tong had already regretted standing, but now he was trapped; he gritted his teeth and said: “Your Highness, I have served in Suzhou a long time. Our soldiers have assisted the prefecture in capturing bandits—petty Jianghu thieves and urban ruffians do exist, but I have never seen any organized bandits establishing strongholds, growing powerful on land…”

Zhao Ti stared at him for several breaths, then said coolly: “Have you ever led troops to suppress bandits on Taihu?”

“Ah…” Sun Tong froze, his face flushing with embarrassment—he realized the Prince meant Taihu. He cursed himself for his recklessness; he would surely be punished. There were indeed bandits on Taihu, but he had never once led a campaign against them.

The Taihu Water Camp answered directly to the regional Commandant, jointly administered by the region and prefecture—not under his command.

Since ancient times, water bandits here have been as numerous as cattle; some fishermen, fierce when fishing, became pirates when not—never fully eradicated.

Taihu spans over two thousand square kilometers, with a shoreline of roughly four hundred kilometers. To the west rise rolling hills and mountains; to the east lie flat plains crisscrossed by waterways, nearly a hundred large islands, countless small ones.

Taihu has countless river ports and estuaries, over fifty named rivers flowing in and out.

Eradicating water bandits here is harder than climbing to heaven—far beyond the difficulty of Ghost Fan Tower. After Ghost Fan Tower was destroyed, merely stationing guards day and night at the waterways, strictly blocking entry, could prevent resurgence.

But Taihu is countless times larger than Ghost Fan Tower, open-air, impossible to watch or guard. Not only can it never be fully cleansed—even if you somehow expended colossal effort to clear it once, new bandits would return soon after.

“Your Highness, this official, this official…” Sun Tong stammered, at a loss for words.

Zhao Ti waved his hand; Sun Tong felt as if released from death, trembling as he sat back down, sweat pattering from his forehead.

The Taihu Water Camp Commander, meanwhile, smirked, then hastily rose—he thought: This is disaster from nowhere! How could water bandits on Taihu ever be fully eradicated? Even with five hundred men scattered across the lake, they’d be invisible as specks of water; even five thousand or fifty thousand would be useless—bandits flee, soldiers can’t stay on water forever, and once they leave, the bandits return.

“Commander Jiang, are there bandits on Taihu?” Zhao Ti asked.

“Your Highness… yes, there are,” the Water Camp Commander replied, trembling.

“How long have they been there?” Zhao Ti’s face was expressionless.

“Your Highness… this… this has been going on for a long time.” The commander pondered—he was no Old Party member, and as a low-ranking military officer, he lacked even the qualification to join them. Taihu’s water bandits had never been eradicated, not even through dynastic changes—why now was this being used to accuse him?

All other officials turned pale, falling utterly silent. Wherever there was water—the Yellow River, the Yangtze—wasn’t there banditry? If lake bandits became grounds for prosecution, then this case had no solution—it meant anyone could be targeted at will, all under the guise of law, leaving the accused speechless. The Prince of Yan was truly brilliant.

“But, Your Highness…” the commander, seeing their faces, suddenly shuddered—these civil officials were all cunning; if they’d all turned ashen, disaster loomed. Losing his post was minor, but losing his head?

“But Your Highness, the water bandits on Taihu… they can’t be eradicated…” the commander pleaded—he was no civil official; mistakes usually meant demotion. Military officers faced grave punishment.

“I know!” Zhao Ti cut him off. “Taihu has always bred bandits; it is hard to pacify.”

“Huh?” The commander froze. Everyone else froze too.

“I speak of those who have held ground for years, grown powerful, roamed the Jianghu, harboring wolfish ambitions,” Zhao Ti said calmly.

The officials exchanged glances. The Water Camp Commander blinked, then suddenly seemed to recall something—his face darkened.

“I ask you: in the reed-choked waterways of Taihu, there is a place called Yanziwu Canhe Zhuang—do you know it?”