Chapter 211: This Is Your Future

That gang showed up a few more times — once they wiped out a stockade caught off guard, the other times they ran into a wall. By now everyone could figure out their intent: these men were just after money.

Then they vanished. A few years passed like that, and suddenly a major case broke in Yanzhou Prefecture — it was said that a relative of the Prince of Lu's consort had been exterminated, the whole household wiped out clean, and all their wealth looted away.

The Prince of Lu's line had been inheriting the title since the founding of the Great Ming, and its influence in Shandong was immense. The moment this incident came to light, the entire Shandong officialdom was shaken. Pressure poured down from every side demanding a thorough investigation, and even men from the Embroidered Uniform Guard got involved.

In truth, the case was not hard to crack. Any seasoned constable could easily see that the methods matched those used to sweep the outlaw strongholds some time ago. And once they started digging, they discovered that wealthy households everywhere had suddenly been hit by bandits — whole families dead. These wealthy households all lived in manors outside the city walls, and the authorities only found out days after the fact.

There were many things everyone actually understood perfectly well — they just didn't want to invite trouble. The outlaws of the greenwood had countless ties to the yamen, and the constables knew a great deal. Now that the case had blown up, everyone turned their investigation straight toward the military.

It didn't take much effort to trace it to an Assistant Regional Commander garrisoned at Ziyang in Yanzhou Prefecture. This Assistant Regional Commander had connections to Grand Secretary Gao Gong of the Longqing reign, so naturally he'd been sidelined once Grand Secretary Zhang Juzheng took power in the Wanli reign. But in the ninth year of Wanli, word had it that this Assistant Regional Commander had sent lavish gifts to Lord Zhang's trusted men, and suddenly his prospects looked bright — rumor even had it that he was likely to be the next Shandong Regional Commander.

But everyone also knew that Lord Zhang had died of illness in the tenth year of Wanli, and his entire faction had been purged. The men he'd promised to promote were, of course, out of luck — this Assistant Regional Commander's silver had been spent for nothing.

Now there was fresh talk: the Assistant Regional Commander was supposedly scraping together silver to buy his way into the Marquis of Wuqing's circle. The Marquis of Wuqing was the Empress Dowager's father, the Emperor's own maternal grandfather, and getting through his door would take no less than tens of thousands of taels — that kind of silver couldn't be raised just by skimming military pay.

If you investigate, you'll always find something. Word soon leaked out: on certain days, the Assistant Regional Commander's household retainers and personal guards had left the city, claiming they were going hunting. Match the dates, and they lined up exactly with when the crimes occurred. On top of that, some retainers had been caught sneaking out stolen jewelry to sell.

That was ironclad proof. But arresting a man like this required long-term planning. He had over a hundred hardened fighters under him, skilled in horse and bow, expert in martial arts, and he controlled military forces. If things blew up, it would be a disaster. There was no choice but to send secret memorials to the court, assemble troops from various commands, and then issue an imperial decree to seize him.

Just as everything was nearly in place, the Assistant Regional Commander realized his crimes had been exposed. By then the situation no longer allowed him to incite the army into open revolt. But he did have one advantage — the hundred-odd men under him were all accomplices, and if captured, they'd face death by a thousand cuts for sure. So he took advantage of the dark, gathered his family, and fled the barracks that very night.

By all logic, what followed should have been a desperate flight. No one expected that this Assistant Regional Commander, having gained considerable experience raiding strongholds back in the day, would simply take to the hills and turn outlaw.

And that was something else entirely. An Assistant Regional Commander who knew how to deploy troops and command men, plus over a hundred personal guards with polished martial skills and top-notch equipment — before long, the entire outlaw world of Yanzhou Prefecture had been swept clean. Those who refused to submit had their strongholds wiped out; the rest bowed their heads and swore allegiance. Desperate fugitives, drawn by his reputation, came to join him, and for a time his power surged.

The only problem was that this Assistant Regional Commander's methods were far too ruthless. Some of the stronghold chiefs he'd exterminated went straight to the authorities and turned themselves in, begging the government to send troops and wipe him out. The villages and manors he'd ravaged also rallied the gentry to submit joint petitions of complaint.

Then the government troops moved in to suppress him. At first, they suffered several serious defeats, but as more forces gathered, they gradually hemmed the Assistant Regional Commander in. After a major battle, he and some fifty of his men died on the field; the rest vanished without a trace.

And those riders the bandit at Paohe Bend had spotted — they were, as it happened, the very same personal guards of that Assistant Regional Commander, the ones he'd encountered all those years ago.

These were killers with thousands of lives on their hands, men who had fought pitched battles against nearly ten thousand government troops, gods of slaughter who had rampaged across western and southern Shandong. The petty jianghu figures gathered from three provinces were, of course, utterly outmatched — to say nothing of what would happen if it came to a gang war: they'd be butchered to the last man.

But that Assistant Regional Commander's son had died in the joint military encirclement. As for who this Kong Jiuying really was, no one could figure it out — they simply took him for a manor head of the Kong family.

Using a mix of diplomacy and force, and trading on a fearsome reputation both real and fabricated, Kong Jiuying seized complete control of the estate at Paohe Bend. Only then did he escort the collected land rents to the Kong family mansion in Qufu. When he returned, Kong Jiuying had become a distant collateral relative of the Kong house, and all the paperwork — the documents certifying him as manor head and steward, the letters from the Duke for the Perpetuation of the Sage's mansion to the local authorities — was suddenly in perfect order.

Once Kong Jiuying had the Paohe Bend estate firmly in his grip, he began collecting tribute. Every trade route passing through, whether open or underground, had to pay him a cut and offer tribute — otherwise, they couldn't take a single step.

Try to sneak through? Every village and town around here was terrified of Kong Jiuying; no one dared conceal anything. Try to force your way? Kong Jiuying himself had over a hundred mounted fighters at his command, and could mobilize more than five hundred village braves and able-bodied men — there was simply no way to fight through. Try to go around? This estate sat right where three provinces met and covered an enormous area. Going around cost money and manpower, and you'd only run into someone else collecting tribute anyway.

And so, bit by bit, Kong Jiuying locked the Paohe Bend estate firmly in his grasp. In the blink of an eye, nearly thirty years had passed.

"... Across eastern Henan, western Shandong, and the northwestern stretch of the Southern Metropolitan Region, Kong Jiuying is the biggest fence. The loot from every stronghold, all the goods that can't see the light of day — it all funnels to him for distribution and sale. That place is also the biggest private salt market, and it's got the third-largest mule and horse market in all of Henan..."

"... The men who followed Kong Jiuying back in the day have either grown old or died off. Now, at a moment's notice, Kong Jiuying can field over two hundred riders. Give the word, and the village braves and able-bodied men from every settlement can muster nearly a thousand. The clerks and petty officers in every county and prefectural yamen around here are his juniors. It's treasonous to say it, but our Great Ming's Emperor sits in the capital — and Kong Jiuying is the local emperor of this three-province borderland..."

It was as if Zhao Jin's question had opened the floodgates for Zhao Zhentang. From the moment they got home, Zhao Zhentang had been talking nonstop, recounting the deeds and legends of this Kong Jiuying.

His father Zhao Zhentang was not a particularly gifted storyteller, but the exploits of this Kong Jiuying, Kong the Tiger, were hardly dull to listen to. Zhao Jin found them absorbing enough. Yet what truly mattered to Zhao Jin was only the last few lines: who Kong Jiuying was, how much strength he commanded, and what his official connections were like.

Zhao Jin actually found it odd. His father didn't like to speak without purpose, but today he had clearly wandered off topic.

He wasn't the only one puzzled. His mother, He Cuihua, came over to urge father and son to get to bed early, but Zhao Zhentang said impatiently, "We're back late anyway — let the two of us chat a while. You go on back to sleep."

That kind of talk was just as out of character. He Cuihua stared at him for a moment, shook her head, and went back first. Zhao Zhentang, meanwhile, kept on about Kong Jiuying: "A humble household might not spend five taels of silver in a year, but that Kong Jiuying clears at least five thousand taels of pure profit annually. He keeps dozens of beautiful women in his rear compound. His food, clothes, and daily luxuries are not one bit inferior to those great and wealthy families in the provincial capital. In the counties around his territory, even the county magistrate has to smile politely and treat him with deference. In that stretch of land, he is the law."

If you truly controlled that borderland crossroads, even without running illegal operations — just through transit trade — clearing five thousand taels of pure profit would be easy. Zhao Jin could analyze matters like this even more clearly than Zhao Zhentang. But he still couldn't grasp what his father was driving at. Of course, Zhao Zhentang had been a bit off all evening.

Zhao Zhentang's mouth was describing Kong Jiuying's power and prestige, but his expression showed no trace of envy. After he finished, he glanced at Zhao Jin sitting there and asked with a smile, "What do you make of this Kong Jiuying?"

What did he make of him? The question caught Zhao Jin off guard. He pondered for a moment, then said, "A local strongman. Just a bigger version of He Weiyuan."

What He Weiyuan did was, in essence, no different from this Kong Jiuying — using armed force to dominate a region, then making a fortune through all kinds of business, open and underground.

At Zhao Jin's reply, Zhao Zhentang grinned, and in a tone that was almost exaggerated, said, "Don't you look down on them. Men like that, so long as no major disaster strikes, pass their estates down generation after generation. Fine food, fine clothes, wealth, status, and face — that goes without saying. And if an opportunity comes along, they can rise spectacularly in officialdom. There's nothing wrong with that. Think of all the bookworms grinding away at their studies these days — what are they after? Isn't it just to pass the exams, get an official post, live the good life, and bring glory to their ancestors?"

Zhao Jin was finally beginning to catch the drift. He ventured, "Father, are you saying...?"

"How many men did Kong Jiuying have when he started out? How many do you have now? What kind of wealth did he have at the very beginning? You've already built up an estate this big. And don't think that just because you've offended this Kong Jiuying, and offended Cloud Mountain Temple too, you're doomed — as long as you stay on your guard, none of them can touch you. In the end, the Great Ming's law still rules this world. Your future will be just like this Kong Jiuying's — except you started cleaner than he did, so your future will be more respectable than his. Our family also holds a Hundred-Household rank; that makes it easier for you to climb. With the realm at peace, winning battle honors and being enfeoffed as a marquis or appointed a general is impossible, but building a great estate and passing it down through the generations — that's more than enough." Zhao Zhentang's voice was grave.

Even if Kong Jiuying could mobilize ten thousand men, he could only rampage on his home turf. If he actually dared to lead his men here in an attack, that would be tantamount to rebellion, and the court would immediately dispatch a grand army to crush him. Something like He Weiyuan's ambush with a hundred men was already the absolute limit — because the Great Ming court's authority still held, and the laws it had laid down, no one dared to violate.

Zhao Jin finally understood. His father, Zhao Zhentang, believed his future would be just like Kong Jiuying's — only far greater. That he would become the great magnate of the Xuzhou region.

"Father, how could I ever end up like that Kong Jiuying?" Zhao Jin said with a laugh. His laugh was cheerful, but it carried a faint trace of contempt.