Chapter 1139: For This Day

"Could the Xuzhou bandits really mean to strike?"

"Would they truly dare lay hands on us, the pillars of the nation?"

"They wouldn't dare, they wouldn't dare!"

The procession had reached this spot, with idlers and common folk gathered all around to watch; retreating now would be no easy matter. And that Scholar Chen at the front, bearing the spirit tablet of the Ultimate Sage and First Teacher, still strode boldly forward, so those behind were simply carried along passively. After a few more steps, they began to think the other side wouldn't dare act, and their courage swelled again. That is the power of being in a crowd — you are but one among thousands, yet you feel you possess the strength of thousands.

As they drew nearer, they could see more clearly than before. The scholars' ranks stirred far more violently now. The patrolmen's long staves, blades, and spears went without saying, but the rear ranks of the patrol column were actually armored, and the men on the rooftops and walls were carrying bows and firearms. What in the world were they planning? And at the Cloud Mountain Company branch, except for the main gate standing open, every other door and window was tightly shut — not a single shopkeeper or clerk could be seen moving about.

Just then, a rider burst out from the patrol ranks. Many in the scholars' procession halted, and the column fell into chaos. The mounted patrolman reined in his horse a dozen or so paces away and bellowed at the top of his lungs: "All of you, stand still!"

The man's breath was deep and full, his voice astonishingly resonant. The moment those words rang out, the previously clamorous scholars' procession fell silent at once, and the common folk and idlers who had followed along also hurriedly shut their mouths.

"This is the seat of Cloud Mountain Company, a vital ground of Zhao Camp. What business have you here? Disperse and leave at once!" the patrolman roared again.

No sooner had his words faded than that Scholar Chen, bearing the Ultimate Sage and First Teacher's tablet, raised it high and cried out hoarsely: "This is the soil of the Great Ming, and we are scholars of the Great Ming! What place is forbidden to us? The King's law governs us — what right have your Cloud Mountain Company, your Zhao Camp, to govern us!"

The scholars' spirits, somewhat suppressed a moment ago, surged again. They shouted and cursed in furious unison. Scholar Chen's voice had now turned shrill; he seemed almost deranged as he held aloft the spirit tablet of Confucius, the Ultimate Sage and First Teacher, and continued in a loud voice: "The Sage's sacred tablet is here, and you still dare sit upon your horse, still dare bellow at the Ultimate Sage and First Teacher! This is gross impiety! Even His Majesty the reigning Emperor must bow in reverence before the Ultimate Sage and First Teacher — dismount and kneel at once!"

"Gross impiety!" "This is Sage Confucius's tablet!" "You'll pay for this!" The scholars' ranks erupted in a cacophony of shouts and furious curses, and even the idlers and common folk watching from the sidelines were muttering along.

Anyone who had ever had dealings with scholars — or even those who hadn't — had always heard tell of Confucius, Sage Kong. Since ancient times, the status of scholars had been lofty, and in this Great Ming it had been raised far higher than in previous dynasties. Many such habits and convictions had been passed down through generations, rooted deep in the heart. The mounted patrolman had naturally heard them too.

Whether he could read or not, seeing the man before him holding that tablet aloft and calling it Sage Confucius's, seeing the furious faces of the thousands of scholars behind it — he could not help but feel a twinge of timidity. In any case, he had already said all he needed to say; this was the perfect moment to take the out, so he simply wheeled his horse and returned to the column.

The moment this patrolman retreated, and the hesitation and shrinking on his face were caught by the literati's eyes, the oppressive mood they had felt upon seeing the patrol column erupted once more.

"Where great righteousness stands, not even ten thousand men can stop it! Gentlemen, press on with one united spirit, and demand justice from these lawless Xuzhou bandits!" The tablet-bearing Scholar Chen turned and roared. The crowd shouted their assent in unison — at that moment, their momentum was truly a soaring rainbow!

The scholars pressed forward, and the surrounding common folk and idlers followed suit. It seemed these Xuzhou patrolmen, usually so fierce and menacing, dared not interfere. Then if they could just charge into this Cloud Mountain Company branch, who knew how much gold, silver, and treasure lay inside waiting to be taken? Everyone had heard the rumors about how much money this branch made, how much gold and silver flowed in and out.

Smashing and looting amid chaos — idlers and common folk alike would gladly do a little on the side. Back when the Smelling Incense Sect's rebel army besieged and opened the city, and then the Xuzhou Zhao Camp besieged, broke, and retook it, quite a few people had profited from the disorder during those back-and-forth shifts. This time, they saw another opportunity coming. On many faces, expressions of excitement and greed surfaced — and on the faces of many scholars within the literati procession, that same expression appeared as well.

Driven by this greed and excitement, the column that had just halted began moving forward again. This time, those behind were even shoving those in front, and the front drew closer and closer to the patrol ranks.

The patrolmen were leveling their weapons, but their hesitation was obvious. On the young and middle-aged faces of the patrolmen, there was also uncertainty and unease; some even glanced left and right at their comrades, and some turned to look back. After all, these were scholars before them, lofty and exalted great masters. The patrolmen's usual duty was keeping order and garrisoning the city — were they really supposed to clash with these long-gowned masters? How could they bring themselves to strike?

When the scholars saw these expressions, it only made them more ecstatic. They felt the great enterprise was as good as accomplished. They shouted wildly at the patrolmen, each voicing his own thoughts.

"This is the spirit tablet of the Ultimate Sage and First Teacher, Sage Confucius! Even His Majesty the Emperor, Lord of Ten Thousand Years, must kowtow before it!"

"If you dare raise a hand against scholars, that is a capital crime! You'll rot in prison in this life, and in the next life you'll have no good karma either!"

"It's not too late to rise up for righteousness now! Turn back now and it'll still count as meritorious service!"

This barrage of threats and enticements left the patrolmen even more at a loss. The distance closed to just over ten paces when someone behind the patrol ranks shouted: "Strike! Beat them out of here!"

The scholars heard the shout from the patrol side too, but by now the atmosphere had been whipped into a frenzy; everyone was in a fever pitch, and a single shout, already hard to make out, went utterly ignored. On the patrol side, the ranks hesitated again. A few men took a couple of steps forward, but seeing their comrades not moving, they stopped as well.

Just then, from somewhere in one patrol unit, a man shouted at the top of his lungs: "Have you all lost your minds? Without Master Jin, where would we be today? Full bellies, land to farm, a decent standing — what have these bastards ever given us? Do you want to go back to the bitter days of before? Beat the hell out of them!"

That roar was probably heard only by his own unit, but that was enough. The entire unit jolted as if shocked, then surged forward, brandishing their weapons, roaring: "For the life we have now! For Master Jin!"

When one unit moved, the others followed. The words they shouted seemed to carry some kind of power. The hesitation on every face was swept away in an instant, replaced by guilt and fury. Unit after unit of patrolmen charged out, brandishing their weapons, beating without mercy. Every man was shouting: "For this day!" "For Master Jin!" "For Xuzhou!"

The scholars had just been feeling that victory was in their grasp. Many were already pondering how to compose poems and essays to commemorate this grand occasion, how to showcase their glorious achievements, and how, once inside, they would ignore the bulky goods and go straight for the gold and silver. Who could have imagined the other side would suddenly charge out and start beating them!

Scholars are skilled at expounding grand principles — so skilled that others believe them, and they themselves come to believe the sages protect them. Usually deferred to and flattered by officials and commoners alike, they never imagined anyone would actually lay hands on them. Not to mention the so-called frail bookworm — they had no ability to fight at all. The moment they saw those ferocious figures charging at them, chaos erupted instantly.

Many scholars did not even know to turn and flee at once. Only when the clubs and staves smashed down on their bodies did they let out earth-shattering shrieks — yet their first retort was always, "You dare hit me?" The answer they got was invariably, "It's you I'm hitting," or a blow delivered with even fiercer force.

The scene was utter chaos. The tide of people that had been surging forward moments ago was now rolling backward. Those idlers and common folk who had come to watch the excitement knew well how formidable Zhao Camp was. The moment they saw the beating begin, all thoughts of looting amid chaos and watching the fun vanished. Every one of them turned and fled in panic, terrified of being caught up in it.

But so many people had swarmed over to watch, and just moments ago they had all been afraid of being left behind, shoving each other forward. Although the square in front of the Cloud Mountain Company branch was open and spacious, it was now packed watertight. Dispersing at a time like this was no easy matter. The more desperately they tried to flee, the more they jostled each other, and the less they could get away. The chaos immediately gave rise to brawling and trampling. Amid the pained cries and startled shouts, wails of agony and calls for help began to mingle. From front to back, blood began to stain the ground.

But Zhao Camp's patrolmen showed no mercy whatsoever. The mounted patrolmen, ten to a unit, raised their clubs and staves from horseback and rained blows down indiscriminately, forcibly carving out a path. Then they charged straight ahead. Horses collided and trampled; those blocking the way scrambled aside, and those too slow to dodge were simply ridden over. The patrolmen made no attempt to swerve.

They charged all the way to where the gawking idlers and common folk were. The bolder idlers just shouted wildly from there: "Masters of Xuzhou, we only came to watch! Go beat those sourpusses!"

Everyone was yelling desperately, trying to draw a line between themselves and the scholars, proclaiming their own innocence. But the mounted patrolmen had no intention of wheeling around to encircle them; they charged straight toward the densest part of the crowd, beating all the same.

The gawking idlers and common folk were driven outward by the mounted unit just like that. Anyone who accidentally fell to the ground was instantly trampled by countless feet — before the horses even reached them, they would never rise again.

Before long, the patrolmen had pushed several dozen paces back. The ground was littered with scholars clutching their heads and rolling, or lying down playing dead. Farther away, the chaos was even more indescribable — blood covered the ground, a scene of utter misery. Yet the Xuzhou patrolmen's hands did not slow in the slightest. Not a single man showed reluctance or shrank back; everyone struck with a full twelve-tenths of their strength, as if to atone for their earlier timidity.

Within the scholars' ranks, there was only one man who had not been beaten, and around him a group of scholars had gathered. That man was Scholar Chen, the one bearing Confucius's spirit tablet.

Seeing that the patrolmen truly dared to strike, Scholar Chen seemed to go completely mad. Raising the tablet, he charged forward headlong, roaring: "The Sage is here! The Ultimate Sage and First Teacher is here! Who dares move? Who dares!"

Everyone still had some lingering scruples, and they all steered clear of Scholar Chen. This made Scholar Chen all the more valiant. Clutching the tablet, he darted left and charged right. Many scholars huddled behind him, and for a moment it rather resembled a game of hawk-catching-chicks — except those scholars had no idea how to fight back; they just cowered behind Scholar Chen, gasping for breath.

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