Chapter 217: The Drillmaster

By the time they returned to the city, everyone's eyes were rimmed red, though the tears had already been wiped dry. For them, Sun Dalei's death in battle would be remembered in their hearts, but the matter itself had come to an end.

Only, Sun Dalei was not the only one to fall in that fierce battle. After Zhao Jin and his companions returned to the freight yard, they changed once more into plain mourning clothes. And it was not just them — every household guard wore a white sash at the waist and a strip of white cloth bound around the head. Aside from those standing watch at the distillery and the Zhao residence, all the rest had come here.

On the open ground in front of the freight yard lay twenty coffins, holding the bodies of nineteen household guards and carters.

The spirit altars, incense, and candles were all in place. As for the monks who chant scriptures and perform rites, they had already come once, and a second visit was easily arranged. They were there now, sounding their ritual instruments and intoning sutras.

The sound of weeping shook the freight yard. The families of the dead had wept at home countless times already, but in a setting like this, how could they suppress their heart-rending grief? The household guards stood in solemn ranks, every one of them with tears in their eyes, raising a hand from time to time to wipe them away. For them too, these were friends and brothers they had spent every waking hour with, now gone.

Amid this atmosphere, quite a few people stood watching from a distance around the freight yard, even up on the walls and in the trees. Idle folk were especially plentiful during the first month of the year, and those curious about what was happening here were especially many. Hearing such a commotion, far too many people wanted to know what had occurred.

"They died for us. Had it not been for them, those arrows would have fallen on us," Zhao Jin said with solemn gravity.

His companions, their expressions stern, followed behind him as he walked out. When they emerged, the weeping in the freight yard quieted for a moment, then rose even louder.

Zhao Jin and the others walked up before the spirit altars. With Zhao Jin leading, they all bowed deeply.

The process was quiet and solemn, yet conveyed ample respect and gravity. The scene fell silent for a time; even the whispered chatter of the idlers ceased.

Once Zhao Jin and the others had finished their salute, the wailing burst forth loudly again. "My son, what will the family do without you!" "With you gone, who will care for your father and me in our old age…"

As the families of the dead wept bitterly, the idlers at the edges began to talk among themselves.

"…Truly pitiful. A child, gone just like that…"

"…They probably thought following a hero like Zhao Jin would bring them some comfort. Who could have imagined they'd meet such calamity…"

"…Just accept your misfortune. They all signed irrevocable sale contracts. They're bondservants of the Zhao household now. The Zhao family didn't kill them, so they can only accept it…"

The murmuring and the wailing intertwined, making the entire training ground, inside and out, chaotically noisy. Zhao Jin raised a hand and made a gesture. Over there, Zhang Hubin, Lu Da, and Li Wu took the lead, beginning to stamp the butts of their long spears against the ground. The spear ends struck the earth with a thud-thud sound. Once they started, the other household guards followed suit. Over a hundred men stamping their long spears in perfect unison — the sound was like the beating of a great drum. Hearing this, both the kin of the fallen guards and the idlers outside watching the excitement fell silent.

Zhao Jin walked before the families. The kin of the household guards stopped their wailing and looked at him with some timidity. Zhao Jin understood clearly in his heart that the cries of these guards' kin just now might not have been entirely thoughtless — they too wanted some compensation. Of course, Zhao Jin could not hear the idlers' talk outside, but he also knew the rules: when a household guard or bondservant died, so long as the master's family had not murdered or abused them, there was no obligation whatsoever.

"These twenty men all showed great courage. Every one of them died on his feet. They were all true men!" Zhao Jin declared, raising his voice.

Silence fell inside and outside the freight yard. Even if the idlers outside could not hear clearly, they were intensely curious about what exactly was being said.

When the bereaved families of the fallen guards heard Zhao Jin's words, they did not break into unseemly wails of grief, but they all wiped at their tears as they wept. Now their sorrow was genuine and heartfelt.

"I, Zhao Jin, will not let their deaths be in vain. The murderers who killed them have all been slain by my hand. Their heads are now sitting in the yamen."

Hearing this, the guards' kin all knelt on the ground and kowtowed toward Zhao Jin. No matter what, the great vengeance had been achieved, the murderers had lost their heads — this too was a comfort to the dead. For many, reaching this point was already enough. But Zhao Jin's words were not yet finished.

"For every household guard who fell in battle: five taels of silver or five dan of white rice each year, for twenty years. Take this year's portion first!" Zhao Jin's voice was not loud when he said this, but those close to him still heard it clearly. First, the kin of the fallen guards stared at Zhao Jin in stunned disbelief. Then the surrounding household guards looked at Zhao Jin with incredulity. And then, the idlers in the outermost circle watching the excitement — they had not heard what happened inside, but they noticed the sudden silence within and knew something momentous must have occurred.

After saying this, Zhao Jin waved his hand. Chen Hong and Lei Cai hurried over. Both of them carried wooden trays, upon which sat silver ingots.

There were no complicated procedures. They came over and directly asked whether the family wanted money or grain. Those wanting money were given silver. Those wanting grain were also given silver, which they could take to exchange later, or use to buy grain on their own as they pleased.

Though Zhao Jin's side had monthly revenues of a thousand or even several thousand taels, for these common folk, even poor and destitute households, it was rare to see more than a few taels of silver in an entire year. Five taels of silver, spent frugally, could support a family of several for a year. As for the five dan of white rice, that was roughly equivalent in price to five taels of silver. The reason grain was offered was that in rural areas, converting silver into copper cash or goods was not easy.

Such an amount, given for twenty years — the parents of the fallen guards were all in their thirties or forties, yet in these times, how many lived to sixty? This sum was essentially providing for them in their old age and paying for their funerals. As for the guards' siblings, young people should earn their own keep — that was only right and proper. Besides, if this money and grain were spent sparingly, they too could benefit. To put it more bluntly, for the kin of these fallen guards, the death of their relative brought them far greater benefit than if he had lived.

"…Will it really be given for twenty years?" Those who had received the silver had not yet recovered from the shock and actually asked such an impolite question.

Chen Hong and Lei Cai, holding the wooden trays, shook their heads helplessly. The other party's doubt struck them as utterly pointless. When had Brother Zhao ever gone back on his word? Seeing that Zhao Jin was about to explain, Lei Cai was suddenly struck by a flash of inspiration. He raised his voice and shouted at the top of his lungs: "Every guard who fell in battle — a pension of five taels of silver! Or five dan of white rice for those who don't want money! Given for twenty full years!"

Some of the household guards standing farther away had not heard clearly, and the idlers watching the excitement from even farther away still did not know what had happened. But Lei Cai's voice was sharp and piercing — this time, everyone heard clearly.

A roar erupted. The idlers on the periphery burst into a chorus of exclamations. In these hard times, what one tael of silver or one dan of white rice meant — everyone knew all too well. Let alone five taels of silver and five dan of rice. And this young master had just handed it out like that.

Dying would be worth it! Once the shock passed, many thought exactly that. Working oneself to the bone all year might not even guarantee enough food and warmth. Being a soldier and eating army rations meant being shortchanged at every turn. But being a household guard for this young master — well-fed and well-rested while alive, and if you died, your family was free from worry about food and clothing for twenty years. What was there left to fear?

As for the household guards, after their initial stir, they fell silent. Every man stood at attention, long spear in hand, utterly focused.

When they had first come to serve as Zhao Jin's household guards, it was in hopes of a better life in the future, of not losing out by following such a heroic figure, and also to save a bit of grain for their families. They had not expected the training to be so grueling, nor that they would have to go out and fight. Fortunately, the food was good, the sleep was good, and as long as you didn't break the rules, no one beat or scolded you. But then came the ambush on the official road, and in one stroke, over a dozen of the friends they had spent every day with were dead. Many had begun to feel their courage falter.

Working like oxen and horses, enduring hardship — that was one thing. Bleeding, breaking skin, straining muscles and bones in a fight — that could be endured too. But when it came to people dying, everyone found it hard to bear. Those with stout hearts, who had always intended to fight and struggle alongside Zhao Jin, were fine. But those who had simply wanted a job, good food, and warm clothes — they began to harbor other thoughts.

Yet after witnessing the scene before them, all those petty calculations vanished like smoke. The price Lord Jin was offering was worth selling your life for, worth dying for!

"…Truly not cheap. Over in Shandong, when disaster strikes, seven or eight lives for half a husk of grain… and that's considered good, at least they were fighting over food…" The idlers watching could not help but murmur. The horrors of people exchanging their own children to eat — no one wanted to speak of such things during the first month of the year.

"…They say in the Three Eastern Prefectures of Shandong, there's still been no snow. The grain can't even be planted…" someone could not resist adding. Everyone fell silent.

Last year, Shandong had suffered a drought, already miserable beyond words. Many had thought this year would be better. They had not expected that during the harshest spring famine season, the drought would strike again. What would come next — everyone could imagine. For a moment, much of the excitement over this fresh topic of gossip faded.

The memorial ceremony held for the household guards was very brief. After the silver was distributed, carts pulled the coffins out toward the city outskirts. All the funeral expenses, from the spirit money to the gravesites, were handled entirely by the Xu'an Trading House. Originally, there should have been pallbearers, but Zhao Jin did not permit it. Still, what people valued most was practical benefit. With pensions this generous, no one had a word of complaint.

Once the ceremony ended, the household guards changed out of their white sashes and were supposed to come back out for training. Zhao Jin could see that the successive memorials and farewells had left everyone's spirits low, so he simply proposed that they all take a walk over to the distillery.

Unlike the grief and solemnity everyone had been through these past days, the distillery was bustling with intense activity. The carts coming to haul liquor were once again parked in packed, dense rows. According to the distillery workers, quite a few of these vehicles belonged to Cloud Mountain Temple or were connected to it.

No matter how fierce the fighting and killing, as long as faces hadn't been thoroughly torn apart, the money that could be earned still had to be earned. The stock that merchants from various places had purchased before the new year had been largely consumed during this period. Moreover, during the twelfth month, this liquor had been sold east to Huai'an Prefecture, south to Fengyang Prefecture, west to Guide Prefecture in Henan, and north to Yanzhou Prefecture and Dongchang Prefecture in Shandong. People everywhere had developed a taste for it, finding it excellent quality at a low price, and wanted to buy more. Seeing profit to be made, the merchants were not inclined to observe the first-month holiday and had rushed over early to pick up their goods. Though the distillery itself was off-limits, everyone knew it had not stopped production during the first month and had been stockpiling goods. There should be quite a bit stored now — it wouldn't be as hard to buy as it was before the new year.

Seeing this thriving, bustling scene, everyone's mood brightened somewhat. They began to turn back. After walking a few steps, Zhao Jin spoke: "Issue the armor to the household guards. We're heading out of the city."

Everyone's spirits lifted. These days of handling funerals, negotiating and settling accounts — each of them had felt stifled and pent-up. Leading troops out of the city meant a fight was coming. Wielding blades and spears would be just the thing to vent their frustrations.

As he walked, Zhao Jin continued: "Of all those we notified, only two parties did not come. One is a pair of evangelists from the Smelling Incense Sect — a couple, surname Zheng. The other is Qi Family Village, fifteen li from here. Their man Qi Erkui did not come yesterday."

At this, Zhao Jin could not help but smile before continuing: "When we rescued Xiaolan and killed those six monks — do you remember? At that time, my father sent me out of the city to lie low, and it was in this Qi Family Village that I hid. That place is a salt-distribution den outside Xuzhou city. Qi Erkui is the headman there. I didn't expect him to be so brazen."

"Could it be a trap?" Wang Zhaojing asked in a low voice. This was, in truth, the question on everyone's mind. Being lured into an ambush and surrounded by such provocation — it was not the first time for them.

"Since yesterday, we've had people watching that place. If there were any unusual movement, we would get word immediately. Besides, Qi Family Village is on flat ground — there's no terrain for an ambush. It's a little over a shichen's walk from the city. If anything happens, we can react in time. Of course, if the household guards can't beat those salt peddlers, then any deaths or injuries are their own just deserts," Zhao Jin answered.

Everyone nodded. The arrangements before and after this sortie were very thorough. Since they were taking up blades and spears, they had to be prepared for casualties. If they couldn't defeat the opponent, then there was nothing more to say.

"Let's all put on those iron armors too," Shi Manqiang reminded them. The iron armor his family's smithy had forged for everyone — a few sets still needed adjustments, but those were only details. The necessary protection was all there; it was merely a question of whether it looked good and was convenient or not.

After a few more steps, Wang Zhaojing hesitated, then smiled and said, "Neither of those two places poses any real difficulty. Your younger brother here has fallen behind quite a bit in his studies these past few days and wishes to go back and review. Brother Zhao, do you think…"

Zhao Jin glanced at Wang Zhaojing and nodded his agreement. Such matters were never forced upon anyone; it was all voluntary. Still, Zhao Jin found it a bit odd. Wang Zhaojing prided himself on his intelligence and had never been one to put much effort into scholarly honors and learning. Moreover, Wang Zhaojing had always wanted to deepen his bonds with everyone — he never missed a chance to fight shoulder to shoulder like this.

But this was just a passing thought. Having been through life and death together, they no longer fussed over such minor details.

They parted ways at the intersection. Watching Wang Zhaojing walk into the distance, Liu Yong said, "Our great scholar ought to focus on his books too. Once he passes the exams and becomes a Provincial Graduate, we'll all share in the glory."

Zhao Jin turned his head and swept his gaze over the others, finding expressions of agreement on all their faces. This surprised him somewhat. He paused for a moment before grasping the crux of it. All pursuits are base, only study is exalted. In this era, nothing was more glorious, more taken for granted, than studying to achieve scholarly honors. For Wang Zhaojing to do this was only right and proper; not doing so would be what shocked and alarmed people.

By the time they reached the freight yard, the household guards had already begun training outside. At a single order from Zhao Jin, everyone sprang into action.

Everything looked perfectly normal, but a careful observer would notice that each of the household guards moved with a steady composure, lacking their former rashness and agitation. After witnessing the scene of the pensions, they had all thought things through clearly.

The various types of armor seized from He Weiyuan's home were all put to use. Zhao Jin made it very clear: those wearing armor would stand in the front ranks and charge first into the fray. Zhao Jin had thought the household guards might hesitate a little. He had not expected that none of them showed any hesitation at all, all vying to be the first to don the armor. The reason they did not hesitate was that they no longer had any misgivings.

But putting on armor is itself a skill — the household servants had no idea how. Fortunately, someone like Dong Bingfeng, a true son of a martial family, was there to instruct everyone on how to wear it. The few sets of armor Zhao Jin had custom-ordered, on the other hand, had no overlapping or folding parts — just a few plates assembled together. They were much easier to put on than chainmail or cotton-padded armor. Once on, everyone wore a cotton robe over the top to avoid drawing attention on the road.

While they were busy, a rider in his forties arrived. Seeing the man approach, Dong Bingfeng hurried over to greet him. The man dismounted, and Dong Bingfeng led him this way.

"Big Brother, this is Instructor Luan, who taught me riding and mounted combat," Dong Bingfeng said by way of introduction.

This Instructor Luan was not tall — standing beside Dong Bingfeng, he was half a head shorter — but his build was solid and stocky, with almost no visible waist. He had bow legs and splayed feet, rough, dark, swarthy skin. Were it not for his brawny frame and stern gaze, he would have looked like a farmer worn down by years of toil.

Hearing Dong Bingfeng's words, Zhao Jin quickly bowed with clasped hands and said politely, "Junior Zhao Jin pays his respects to Instructor Luan. I will be counting on your diligent guidance from now on!"

Seeing his respectful attitude, a smile appeared on Instructor Luan's face. He had been quite conflicted on the way here — he could not refuse the Dong family's request, yet as an elder in his forties, he could hardly grovel before a junior. But everyone in Xuzhou knew Zhao Jin's weight. Young as he was, he truly had the capital to be arrogant and reckless.

That inner conflict vanished like smoke at the sight of Zhao Jin's attitude. Instructor Luan smiled and nodded, then said with emotion, "I thought that after Zhao Zhenxing, your Zhao family would have no one left who practiced martial arts. I never expected someone like you to emerge."

"Instructor Luan knew my second uncle?" Zhao Jin asked. They were both military households of Xuzhou Guard, so it was only natural they would know each other.

Instructor Luan shook his head and sighed. "Your uncle was among the best in Xuzhou Guard. It's just a pity that in the end, he had nowhere to settle."

Zhao Jin turned and called over Lei Cai, who was distributing weapons and armor, and gave him a few quiet instructions. Lei Cai hurried off toward the courtyard. Moments later, he came back carrying a small wooden chest.

He set the chest down in front of Instructor Luan and opened the lid. Inside lay gleaming silver ingots, glittering under the sunlight. Instructor Luan froze. Zhao Jin smiled and said, "Instructor Luan has come to teach us riding, traveling back and forth between the city and the outskirts. The costs of feeding men and horses are considerable. We can't have Instructor Luan sweating and paying out of pocket too — we'll cover these expenses."

"How can this be proper..." Instructor Luan began, but his tone was not particularly firm. The chest was small, yet it had to hold at least two hundred taels of silver inside — no small sum by any measure.