Chapter 214: The Gathering

Zhao Jin nodded slowly. Wang Zhaojing was right — even if Wang Youshan's backer in the capital had lost influence, he was still the foremost untainted notable in Xuzhou. A word from him, and the prefectural magistrate's office would still do him the courtesy. But standing up for one's own son, and standing up for one's son's friend, were two entirely different matters. For something major, perhaps — but for a minor affair, it was inconvenient, and there was simply no need.

"Actually, Brother Zhao, you should be pursuing an official career yourself. Your family is of hereditary military-officer stock, and with your skills, the titles of Military Licentiate and Military Provincial Graduate would be yours for the taking." Wang Zhaojing spoke with great earnestness.

Beyond the civil examinations for scholarly honors, the Great Ming also had a military examination track. But unlike the civil examinations, which barely inquired into a candidate's background, the military examinations restricted candidates to the hereditary military households of the guards. A Company Commander was not a high rank, but he was still a military officer of the sixth grade, passed down through the generations, and could be called a hereditary officer — though when people spoke of hereditary officers, they generally meant guard officers of the rank of Assistant Battalion Commander and above.

"A Military Licentiate isn't worth much, and what good is a Military Provincial Graduate? For someone like me, with no roots or connections, would I be sent to the frontier or assigned to serve some noble? And what about the situation here in Xuzhou?" Zhao Jin shook his head as he spoke.

In the past, Zhao Jin had been rather detached from the ways of the guard's military households. But over the years, having heard and seen so much, he had formed his own reflections. His second uncle, Zhao Zhenxing, was a case in point.

Without any background or backing, if you wanted to win rank, fame, and fortune — if you wanted to be enfeoffed as a lord and appointed a general — earning military merit in real combat was far faster than taking the military examination route. Of course, for an ordinary Company Commander's family like the Zhaos, any path would take a very, very long time, and perhaps they would never reach the destination. Zhao Zhenxing could be called a man of outstanding talent, yet in the end he died in poverty and sickness.

Wang Zhaojing was a clever man. Hearing Zhao Jin speak this way, he immediately thought of the Zhao family's circumstances. He shook his head and raised his voice slightly: "Bingfeng can take the examination route. Getting a Military Provincial Graduate title shouldn't be a problem for him."

It was just the few of them, companions together in the room. The deep night was silent and lonely, and they all wanted to talk to pass the time. Dong Bingfeng was over by the brazier, tossing in spirit money. Hearing this, he shook his head and said, "I've heard my father say that in the Southern Metropolitan Region, if a military man wants to rise, he has to be one of those ennobled nobles in Nanjing, or come from their household generals or family troops. Anyone else can't get very far. In my family's case, my father wants me to compete for that Battalion Commander post with real authority."

A guard had an authorized strength of five Battalion Commanders, but in reality there would be a dozen or even two dozen men holding the title of Battalion Commander. Some held sinecures; others were in charge — managing a thousand military households, with plenty of perks and great power. The position of Battalion Commander with real authority was a good one, but no single person held it for life. It rotated every few years. Who stepped down and who stepped up followed no fixed rule — every region had its own local methods. For the Xuzhou Guard and the Xuzhou Left Guard, it was settled by a martial contest: the strongest took the post. The Battalion Commanders themselves were all pampered and precious, unable even to hold a saber steady, so it was usually their sons and nephews who went into the ring. That was why Dong Bingfeng had said what he did.

Chen Sheng sat beside Zhao Jin. Not one for talk, he had been sitting there with his eyes narrowed, dozing. Hearing this, he said in a muffled voice, "We're still young. First, let's lock down this whole territory of Xuzhou. You're all in too much of a hurry."

Everyone paused, then all acknowledged the truth of Chen Sheng's words. They had encountered so many major events lately that they had unconsciously begun to think of themselves as adults.

Zhao Jin sighed and stood up. He picked up two sheaves of spirit money and dropped them into the brazier, then said heavily, "Dalei was only sixteen."

Silence instantly filled the room. One by one, each person rose and burned a sheaf of spirit money for Sun Dalei.

The lantern-viewing of the Shangyuan Festival lasted three days straight and was one of Xuzhou's liveliest occasions. During these days, several markets would also open inside the city. Common folk from villages all around would head into the city at first light — strolling the streets by day, admiring the lanterns by night, and then they would have to begin the busy work of the new year.

Truth be told, Xuzhou's lantern festival was nothing special. If you really wanted to see something fine and spectacular, you had to go to Yangzhou. Even Haizhou put on a better show than here. So it was only the common folk who made a fuss over it; people of substance and the local gentlemen all stayed home.

But today was different. An hour after the city gates opened, figures on horseback and in carriages began entering the city. The soldiers guarding the gates knew every face — they naturally recognized these men, and for a moment they were astonished. These figures, great and small, each ruled their own patch of territory and rarely left their home ground. What were they doing here today?

"... Didn't Master Jin's brother get killed at Gao Family Village? Looks like he's about to go all out..."

"Master Jin used to hold back before. This time, he's really been provoked."

"... So it's only the Heroes' Gathering. No wonder Spare Rib Zhang's place got booked out..."

"Heroes, my ass — they count? On Xuzhou turf, the only man worthy of being called a hero is Master Jin himself. Maybe those brothers of his could count..."

Of course, all these words were spoken in hushed voices. Everyone knew perfectly well what had happened inside the city.

But there were some things they still couldn't have anticipated. At every city gate, people were waiting inside. When they spotted an arriving notable, they would step forward politely, greet him, and repeat the instructions Liu Yong had given the night before.

To go to the mourning hall and kowtow — that was what a junior did for a senior, or for a person of high virtue and great prestige. To kowtow to a sixteen-year-old kid — many men simply could not stomach it.

Some, upon hearing this, stopped dead in their tracks and roared, cursing: "What kind of outrageous nonsense is this? Me coming into the city is already giving him face, and now I have to kowtow to some snot-nosed brat? I'm heading back right now..."

The men posted at the city gates were all subordinates of Chen Ergou and Butcher Li. These city toughs didn't have much status themselves, and in front of the bold fellows entering the city, they didn't dare speak with their heads raised. Yet at this moment, they had no choice but to brace themselves and say, "These are Master Jin's orders..."

"I don't give a damn about some Master Jin!" A few with truly foul tempers shouted exactly that. But most men, upon hearing those words, lost all their bluster. They stood there in a daze for a moment, then asked for clear directions to the mourning hall.

Those who had shouted and turned to leave — after exiting the city gate or walking some distance away — ended up turning back. They ignored the toughs greeting and directing people at the gate and trudged inside with heads lowered. Having just shouted and thrown a fit, and now turning back, the loss of face was truly unbearable.

But face was face. Who in Xuzhou, inside the city or out, didn't know what Zhao Jin had done? When he dealt with those dozen or so desperadoes earlier, people had still thought it was a fluke. In private, over drinks and idle chat, more than a few had boasted that if they'd been pushed to that point, they could have killed those man-eating leopards too. But after word spread of Zhao Jin's battle near Gao Family Village, everyone was left speechless. That was a handful of men killing over a hundred — and those were the "Grass Den" and "Mengshan Tiger" crews.

When bandit gangs of that caliber roamed outside Xuzhou, they moved as if strolling through their own homes. Village strongholds and hamlets didn't even dare to block their path. If they said they were staying the night, the villagers had to serve them the finest food and drink, tend their horses well, and if they wanted to bed some family's daughter or wife, she had to be obediently sent over. When they left, they took whatever they pleased. Otherwise, that village or hamlet would be slaughtered to the last soul.

It was precisely such ferocious bandits who had ambushed Zhao Jin and his party — and in the end, Zhao Jin and his men had killed every last one of them. Even if you gave every possible concession and assumed Zhao Jin had led all his household retainers into the fight, that was still thirty men against over a hundred. What kind of god of slaughter could pull that off?

And that wasn't all. After being ambushed, this same Zhao Jin had struck straight for He Family Village that very night, killed that Squire He, and utterly wiped out He Family Village.

Not many knew that He Weiyuan was the Xuzhou chapter head of the Smelling Incense Sect, but everyone knew He Weiyuan's weight. Such a huge market, such a huge distillery, such a huge estate — with scores of sturdy, able-bodied men under his command, and friends on every mountain under heaven who would give him face. He was a great magnate. On Xuzhou turf, the only forces that bandit gangs like "Grass Den" and "Mengshan Tiger" had any real fear of were Cloud Mountain Temple and this He Family Village.

And such a great magnate — Zhao Jin had charged right in, cut off his head, and hauled his entire household, young and old, back to the yamen. The outcome staring them in the face was the extermination of his whole clan.

As for Cloud Mountain Temple — to the underworld figures and local strongmen of Xuzhou, Cloud Mountain Temple was an authority on par with the government, its power even greater than the prefectural magistrate's office. Because the government still had some scruples in how it acted; Cloud Mountain Temple could do anything it pleased, and it had deep pockets and overwhelming numbers.

Yet this Cloud Mountain Temple was nothing in front of Zhao Jin. First, several of its monks were killed. Then this time, Zhao Jin went straight to the home of that Cloud Mountain Temple eminent monk's son, strung the man up from a roof beam, and hauled his entire family off to jail. To this day, Cloud Mountain Temple hasn't dared to make a sound — though they did obediently send over the customary silver payment.

Thinking it over — so many men of ringing reputation had all vanished like smoke in Zhao Jin's hands, so many heads had rolled. What did their own bit of face matter? What if they offended this god of slaughter and he came knocking, right in the middle of the first month...

Face mattered, but life and property mattered far more. Thinking of those who had been wiped out to the last man, what was their own little grievance worth? Better just go along obediently!

Compared to these men from outside the city who still had some trouble coming to terms with things, men like Chen Ergou, Butcher Li, and You Zhenrong had long since passed down their orders and rushed over to the Sun household early. In the current situation, they would have willingly played the part of filial sons and worthy grandsons, carrying the funeral streamers and wailing in mourning. The others inside the city who had been summoned didn't dare be remiss either — they all arrived as early as they could.

And so, from daybreak onward, the stream of people at the Sun family's door never ceased.

Zhao Jin and the others had not slept all night, so they began setting things up before the sky was even light. They left a few men to stand watch at the distillery, the goods yard, and a few other places, and brought all the other household retainers here.

The Sun family had its own people to handle the funeral arrangements. When Zhao Jin's household retainers arrived, they had only one task: to form two lines holding long spears, stretching from the front of the mourning hall all the way out to the street. Everyone who came to pay their respects would have to pass through this corridor of spears.

One after another, men who thought themselves somebody arrived — and the moment they saw this corridor of spears, they faltered. Mustering scores or even over a hundred men, grabbing weapons, and going out to brawl — that was something everyone had either done or witnessed. But a scene like the one before them was a first. The spear-bearers were all young lads, but their backs were ramrod straight, and they seemed of one piece with the spears in their hands. Every spearpoint had been sharpened to a gleaming shine, flashing cold light under the sun.