Chapter 1066: A Few People

On the road, the shouting, cursing, and brawling drew plenty of stares from merchants and travelers; even on the Grand Canal grain barges, people were looking this way with curiosity. The Zhao Character Camp's mounted household troopers had already ridden over, but they were in no hurry to rush in and suppress the disturbance. Inside, someone was already trying to smooth things over, saying, "Everyone, calm down. We've all come this far — what's the point of saying these things now? To be taken in together here by Steward Li means we're bound by fate. We'll have to support each other going forward. How can we let outsiders laugh at us?"

"Scholar Hou, step aside! Today we're definitely going to teach these people a lesson."

Just then, one of the household troopers fiercely cracked his whip in the air. The whip-flower exploded with a snap, and the crowd instantly quieted considerably. The trooper pointed his whip at the several dozen Liaodong refugees below and roared angrily, "All of you behave yourselves! Whoever doesn't know what's good for them next, this old man's whip won't show mercy."

"What are you so arrogant about? When I was in the Liao Garrison, the likes of you..." That Brother Peng huffed angrily, but before he could finish, the household trooper spurred his horse straight into the crowd. The surrounding Liaodong refugees scattered in fright, and Brother Peng also scrambled to flee in panic. But with the trooper targeting him, where could he run? He'd only taken two steps when the whip lashed down hard on his back. A crisp "Slap!" rang out, and the leather jacket was split right open. A second whip followed immediately, knocking the man flat to the ground.

Even that wasn't the end of it. The household trooper leaned back, raised his arm high, and lashed down fiercely again, striking Brother Peng hard on the body. Fortunately, the man reacted quickly enough, shielding his face with both hands. But the whip grazed his palms, tearing flesh and blood open — the force was that great. His face wasn't scarred, but the pain was unavoidable, and his whole body curled up in agony.

"How can you bully us Liaodong refugees like this? We were sent here by Steward Li!" That Scholar Hou, who had earlier tried to smooth things over, shouted angrily. With those words, the two previously opposing groups of Liaodong refugees suddenly seemed to share a common enemy, all glaring furiously at the household trooper.

Surrounded by the crowd, the household trooper was utterly fearless. Sneering from atop his horse, he said, "Break the rules and you get beaten. Keep breaking the rules — what does it matter if we slaughter every last one of you?"

With those words, he drew his blade from its sheath. The mounted household troopers who had already ridden over all drew their blades and leveled their lances, pointing them menacingly at this group. Only then did the surrounding merchants and travelers realize something was wrong and hurriedly fled into the distance.

"Do you dare kill people in broad daylight?" Scholar Hou raised his voice, but his eyes kept darting forward. The situation was getting out of hand; he could only hope that Master Jin would come over and stop this. But ahead, there was no movement at all — the man just kept walking forward on his own.

His words, however, drew a burst of jeering laughter from the mounted household troopers. One of them said viciously, "Killing in broad daylight is nothing. This old man has killed at night more than once or twice."

The surrounding men roared with laughter again. Every possibility Scholar Hou had envisioned had hit a wall, and he had no idea how to resolve this. He stood there somewhat dazed. Just then, someone behind him tugged at him and whispered, "Scholar, what these men are saying is true. If you don't back down, they really will kill."

Scholar Hou knew who was speaking without turning around. These men had witnessed too many scenes of slaughter in Liaodong and naturally had a sharp eye for this. Even Scholar Hou himself could feel the dense killing intent radiating from the other side. Yet he was inwardly puzzled: the Southern Metropolitan Region seemed so peaceful and prosperous — how could it breed such murderous aura? Puzzled as he was, he still walked a few steps over to Brother Peng, who was lying on the ground playing dead dog, and whispered, "Old Peng, forget about face. Staying alive is what matters most. If you weren't afraid to die, why did we cross the sea in the first place!"

These words hit home. Brother Peng, his face full of dejection, got up, kowtowed several times before the household trooper, and said, "My lord, this humble one knows he was wrong. This humble one won't dare offend again."

"Our Xuzhou has rules. Follow the rules and nothing happens; break the rules and you get beaten. If you lose your life, you can't blame anyone else. Think it over carefully yourselves. Don't make me come back to say this a second time. Hurry up and get moving!" The household trooper didn't press too hard, just scolded them briefly and urged them on.

By now, the distance from Zhao Jin's party up ahead had grown considerable. The mounted household troopers didn't all leave either; some stayed behind to escort them. With that, the few who had been thinking of running back to Qingjiangpu abandoned the idea. No matter how fast they ran, could they outrun horses and arrows?

Brother Peng's hand was still bleeding. Though the wound looked frightening, it was actually not too bad. Someone on the ground grabbed a handful of dirt, intending to pack it onto the wound, but a mounted household trooper shouted at them to stop. He pulled a few pieces of cloth from his pouch, tossed them over, and said, "Wet these with boiled water, clean his wound, then bandage it. Remember to use some salt."

A carter fetched a leather pouch of cooled boiled water from the wagon, along with a bit of salt powder from a porcelain bottle. They simply treated and bandaged the wound. This gesture quieted the Liaodong refugees considerably. After tidying up briefly, they lowered their heads and pressed on. They hadn't walked many steps before someone burst into tears, crying as he walked, "I brought my parents all the way to the seashore, but the boat could only take one person. My parents said they'd go look at the scenery by the reefs over there, and then they jumped into the sea. I'm unfilial! I deserve to be struck by lightning!"

As this one person wept, the others' spirits sank even lower. Another said, "The Tartars wanted to seize all the grain from our village. Several villages around us decided to fight the Tartars to the death. We went to raid their camp at night. Afraid the children would cry and give us away, every family had to kill their own children first..."

Ever since the Jianzhou Jurchens had swept through Liaodong, the fate of the Liaodong people — whether they resisted or not — had been utterly miserable. Though those who had made it here were the lucky ones, each had their own harrowing story. The more they spoke, the more heartbroken they became. Some even cursed Li Yongfang loudly, calling him a Han traitor for surrendering to Jianzhou.

The mounted household troopers escorting them grew irritated listening to this and roared angrily, "You think you're the only ones who've suffered? When this old man was in Shandong, the children of the entire village were eaten, traded one for another. The old either starved to death or went off to die on their own. My father couldn't bear to part with me and escorted me all the way out, then starved to death himself on the road. I..."

At this point, the household trooper couldn't go on, but his words had quieted the group somewhat. Compared to the desperate famine and starvation of Shandong, who could say which was more miserable — the brutal oppression of the Jianzhou Jurchen Tartars or that? The reason the Liaodong refugees had been wailing and lamenting was, in truth, resentment in their hearts after being suppressed by the Zhao Character Camp's household troopers, venting through their tales of suffering. They hadn't expected to be shut down so directly.

Although Zhao Jin's main party hadn't stopped and had already pulled far ahead, reports and news of what was happening behind were constantly being relayed to him.

"These Liaodong refugees aren't easy to manage. There's friction between those defeated soldiers and the ones who rose up together, and each group is its own tight-knit circle. Outsiders in a strange land will naturally band together for self-protection," Zhao Jin remarked.

"That Scholar Hou isn't bad, though. He at least knows how to calm things down and mediate," Ji Xiang added.

"Compared to whatever Brother Peng or Brother Xiong, this Scholar Hou is the real problem. He wants all the Liaodong refugees to band together as one bloc, and then deal with outsiders as a group. When the time comes to elect representatives or something, a literate, reasonable man like him would certainly be chosen," Zhao Jin said with a cold laugh.

Ji Xiang was taken aback, then nodded grimly. Glancing back, he said, "Big Brother, then let's get rid of this troublemaker now, to save ourselves grief later."

"No need for that yet. A thousand gold to buy a horse's bones — we still need these people to go to Dengzhou Prefecture to gather more people. Once we have more people and more who are useful, then we'll see whether they know what's good for them or not," Zhao Jin said with a smile.

Although the Liaodong refugees who had reached Dengzhou Prefecture were anxious and unsettled, they could at least barely survive and make a living there. The rest of Shandong was completely unfamiliar to them, and they dared not venture there casually. No matter how extravagantly you talked it up, everyone would still be cautious — especially when thousands or tens of thousands were gathered together, people were even more inclined to follow the crowd.

If, at that moment, some Liaodong refugees could go there and speak from personal experience, the situation would be entirely different. Moreover, these people who had managed to take a boat and flee to Qingjiangpu must be people of status and means, respectable figures. With such people going to recruit and persuade, the effect would surely be much better. Nor did Zhao Jin worry that the people recruited would band together as a bloc or even try to coerce their benefactor.

The Zhao Character Camp's farming estate system was already relatively mature, and their experience in resettling refugees and displaced people was even richer. The Liaodong refugees, once here, wouldn't be able to make any waves.

Despite the disruptive interlude, Zhao Jin was in quite a cheerful mood. He said to Ji Xiang with a smile, "These people coming over have no ties or attachments. There are soldiers, miners, and surely other craftsmen and people with special skills. And they're all young and strong. These people are a great boon to us!"

Ji Xiang understood this reasoning as well and nodded with a smile.

After Zhao Jin and his party had settled into the Cloud Mountain Inn, it was over half a shichen before the Liaodong refugees arrived. After a full day of travel, though food and water had been sufficient, they were utterly exhausted and had no energy left to quarrel.

Moreover, those from the defeated Liao Garrison troops were all thoroughly frightened and shaken. The journey hadn't been fast, and they had been able to observe the movements of the large cavalry force escorting Zhao Jin. Even when the distance widened, they could still see the cavalry's brief halts to rest and regroup, and their advance formations. From the start of the journey until now, the discipline had remained so strict, the ranks never falling into disorder, the stops and starts precise and rigorous. And that evening, when they met at the inn, the Zhao Character Camp's mounted household troopers showed no sign of slackening whatsoever.

"If those big shots in our Liao Garrison had this kind of ability, we might not have lost to the Tartars," someone was already murmuring quietly.

"Take a close look at this inn. If it's defended well, even several thousand men might not be able to fight their way in. It's no worse than the brick forts back in our Liaodong," another observed, studying the surroundings.

The carters assigned by the Internal Guard Corps silently loaded and unloaded goods, but inwardly they had their own assessment. These defeated Liao Garrison soldiers were probably no ordinary rank-and-file troops; they likely had been officers of some sort. What common soldier would have the mind to observe so carefully? And what common soldier, after a full day's march, would still have so much energy?

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