Chapter 1070: A Secret Society

He had thought it through clearly, but when it actually came time to practice with the firelock, Ge Tianfeng still found it far too tedious. Wielding a pike involved only so many motions, whereas firing a firelock required dozens of steps — from blowing on the slow match to keep it burning, to cleaning the barrel, to setting up the wooden fork rest, along with various other points of attention. Fortunately, the firelock training grounds were quite far from the martial academy, so everyone could relax a little each time they went. Moreover, the process of learning the firelock was somewhat interesting. An instructor taught them methodically, step by step, and on the drill field, wooden boards as tall as a man were arrayed in rows, all covered with illustrations depicting each motion of firing the weapon. Everyone enjoyed looking at those pictures.

The academy's curriculum was not just relentless bitter training all day. Every day, half a shichen was spent learning to read and write, and every three days there were two shichen of free time. Some student recruits handled this reading and writing business with ease, while others truly found it a headache, but there was nothing they could do about it. The instructors were equally strict about this requirement; if anyone fell behind or slipped up in the literacy assessments, there were all sorts of punishments.

And that free time every three days was not for letting everyone run wild like loose sheep. People would come to lecture on various exemplary deeds of the Zhao Battalion, recounting how Zhao Jin had grown step by step, how he cared for his fellow villagers and every place under his control. They spoke of the poverty and helplessness of those years, of being oppressed and mistreated, of how the outside world had looked down on Xuzhou and Pizhou, and how it was only by following Zhao Jin that everyone had gained food, warmth, and good days.

These lectures won the approval of many student recruits. Many of their families were beneficiaries, and they would directly bring in the experiences of their fathers and elder brothers, embellishing them with boasts about their own families and extolling Xuzhou and Pizhou. The discussions were always heated. Ge Tianfeng listened very carefully each time, and he listened with great envy.

He had assumed that the people who came to recount these stories were all instructors or teachers, but after listening a couple of times, Ge Tianfeng realized that these people were actually speaking from personal experience — what they told were their own stories.

Nor were the topics limited to matters of Xuzhou. There were also people who came to explain how the Smelling Incense Sect and the White Lotus Sect bewitched the people, describing how the upper echelons of these sects lived in arrogance, debauchery, and extravagance, how they deceived and beguiled those below them, and why they stirred up great chaos. They also told of what these sects did during that chaos: slaughtering the innocent, seizing women and children, trafficking people, and then endlessly attacking and sweeping through towns and cities, creating more refugees and displaced people, repeating the cycle over and over, all for their own selfish gain while using gods and buddhas as a pretense, plunging countless people into a hell of suffering.

As Ge Tianfeng listened to this account, he first felt a sudden, dawning realization, and then an anger that seemed to explode within him. He had endured bitter hardship, become a refugee, and been swept along by force. He had only had a vague, muddled sense of many things, but this time he understood completely. So the Smelling Incense Sect had committed so many evils against him; so it was because of this Smelling Incense Sect and other sects that he and those around him had suffered so much. By this point, he no longer felt the slightest attachment to the Smelling Incense Sect; instead, he felt gratitude toward Xuzhou.

Some people recounted how they had been exploited by the Great Ming authorities, how they had been forced to pawn and sell their fields, how they had sold their sons and daughters, how they had watched their loved ones starve or die of illness, and then been forced to wander as refugees. Others even brought in clerks and runners from the Great Ming government to explain how the officials, clerks, and runners of the Great Ming colluded with the local gentry and powerful families, how they manipulated tax collection and corvée labor to line their own pockets and amass fortunes. But no matter who was speaking, in the end, they all sincerely praised Xuzhou and exalted Zhao Jin. Only when he came, they said, did all that suffering vanish, did all the malpractices cease, and did everything become fair and just.

As these things were recounted, Ge Tianfeng noticed that his classmates' reactions were completely different. Those from good backgrounds, as well as the leaders of the various circles, apart from listening attentively, showed no other emotion — it was just like when they attended lectures. But the other classmates, including the sons of Xuzhou and Pizhou, often listened with reddening eyes, and some even sobbed on the spot or gnashed their teeth in curses. They all felt the same pain. It seemed that many of the classmates in this third-class cohort had not enjoyed good days for very long; they had all experienced that kind of suffering.

Why had they suffered? Because of the oppression and exploitation of the Great Ming authorities and local powerful families. Because of the deception and extortion of heretical sects and even those Buddhist and Daoist temples. Why did they enjoy blessings? Why did they have stability? Why did they now have good days? Because of Zhao Jin, because of the Zhao Battalion. Everything was fair and just. Those who should have starved or died of illness now had food and warmth. Everyone had good days.

Among the lecturers were also household guards and militia members of refugee origin, some of whom were students from the second and first classes. They spoke of how they had endured those hardships back then, how they had been swept along into Shandong, how they had gone to the refugee farmsteads, and how, step by step, they had come to live good days and now had prospects. Such personal, empathetic accounts often struck a chord. The more they listened, the more grateful and thankful everyone felt toward Zhao Jin.

Occasionally, a few scholars would also come to speak on these matters. They did not come to teach reading and writing, but rather to talk about matters of great righteousness. This great righteousness was not about loyalty to the sovereign and love of country, but about how many people in this realm still endured suffering and hardship. These common folk, they said, were all waiting for you to save them, waiting for you to give them food and warmth, to let them live good days.

There were also older men from the guard-farm military households, men who had once served outside as officers like squad commanders, who spoke of the corruption and decay in the military camps across the Great Ming, and of the threat posed to Huaxia by the Mongol tribes beyond the frontier and the Jianzhou Jurchens beyond the passes. At these times, they rarely mentioned the people of the Great Ming or the Great Ming realm. Instead, they spoke only of "this realm" and "the millions of common folk." Faced with these threats, they said, the Great Ming's official army could not be relied upon at all. It would be up to the Zhao Battalion to stop them, up to all of you seated here.

If Ge Tianfeng had heard these lectures at the very beginning, he would not have understood much. But now he could grasp quite a lot. Combining them with his own experiences and what he had seen and heard, he felt not only gratitude toward the Zhao Battalion but also a growing sense of loyalty. He felt that being in this martial academy was a kind of fortune, and that he could have a far greater future ahead of him. Ge Tianfeng became ever more devoted, ever more unswervingly loyal to the Zhao Battalion.

Ge Tianfeng also noticed that those classmates who had been unmoved by the tales of the common folk and refugees' suffering became quite stirred and impassioned during the lectures by the scholars and the old guard-farm soldiers. Some even, after the lectures, excitedly proclaimed to their classmates, "We must follow Lord Jin and save the millions of living souls in this realm! Let our Zhao Battalion's might shake the world!"

Over the months in the martial academy, the initial excitement of many student recruits had faded. Some had even grown a little weary of the diligent busyness, merely following along mechanically each day. But Ge Tianfeng's enthusiasm remained. In fact, because of his gratitude and loyalty, his zeal and diligence even surpassed what they had been when he first arrived. Such performance brought its rewards. Ge Tianfeng's overall performance in the third class was now ranked within the top thirty, and the instructors praised him more and more often, because his effort could rank within the top five of the third class. A student recruit who worked so hard to improve and make himself outstanding was, of course, to be greatly praised and held up as a model.

Because of this outstanding performance, Ge Tianfeng, who had originally been kept at a distance by the cliques and had little in common with anyone, also began to make friends. People started to chat with him and ask for his help. Their conversations were naturally about things they had seen and heard, and matters within the academy. Ge Tianfeng was clumsy with words. Every time he spoke, aside from the hellish torments in Shandong, it was all gratitude and worship toward Zhao Jin. His utter devotion was plainly evident, but everyone could also see that it came from the heart.

Apart from the lectures by instructors and outside teachers, the daily training was often overseen by student recruits from the second and first classes. The entire class was organized into three companies, led in drill by students from those two classes. This served both to train the third class in formation and foot drill, and to allow the second and first class students to learn and become familiar with command. More of them came from the second class, and they had grown familiar with everyone. Some in the second class were also very enthusiastic and talkative. They had experienced more battles and seen more things, and when they spoke, they often captivated the third-class students.

Ge Tianfeng was not very good at socializing. During every training session and free period, he stayed with the group but remained silent. He was very interested in the stories told by the "senior brothers," but he did not know how to join the conversation. If someone took the initiative to talk to him, Ge Tianfeng's responses were often awkward. Yet a few students from the second class were still quite warm toward him.

Once, after training had ended, Ge Tianfeng was asked by a second-class senior brother to stay behind and put away the equipment. Everyone else dispersed. The senior brother came over to help him with the work, glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, and then asked with great seriousness, "Ge Tianfeng, I see you are loyal to Lord Jin and train so diligently. Would you like to join the Dragon Rising Society?"

The Dragon Rising Society? Ge Tianfeng was hearing this name for the first time. His immediate thought was whether this was some sect like the Smelling Incense Sect. This second-class senior brother had some nerve, daring to promote a heretical cult right here in the martial academy. Should he report this? If he let his misgivings show now, would he be silenced? Not being very good at hiding his emotions, a guarded look appeared on his face as soon as the thought crossed his mind.

"... You're not getting the wrong idea, are you?" The second-class senior brother had apparently been through this many times before and immediately guessed what Ge Tianfeng was thinking. He couldn't help but smile wryly and explain, "All of us in the Dragon Rising Society are good men who have received great kindness from Lord Jin and are willing to die in his service. Joining this Dragon Rising Society is to better serve Lord Jin, and also to keep an eye on those who slack off or are half-hearted..."

"... Don't you know, there have been a few deranged, ungrateful bastards who, after receiving Lord Jin's great kindness, still colluded with outsiders to harm him for petty gain. If anything like that ever happens again, we brothers of the Dragon Rising Society must be the first to discover and report it. And if we are by Lord Jin's side when such a thing occurs, we must stand before him and take the blade meant for him..."

This second-class senior brother was not eloquent. He stammered and spoke with great agitation, but he made everything clear. Ge Tianfeng understood. He very much agreed with the Dragon Rising Society's purpose. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to pledge his loyalty and life to Zhao Jin, but he had no channel to do so. This Dragon Rising Society seemed to be exactly that channel.

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