Chapter 223: Zheng Quan of Maocun Market

223. Chapter 223: Zheng Quan of Maocun Market

"That's the one who killed over a hundred over at Gao Family Village…" Qi Erkui said through gritted teeth in a low voice. Instructor Song's expression was rather grim, but he still insisted, "It was probably that big fat one who did most of the killing. A spear is a common weapon — how can it compare to my twenty years of skill with the staff?"

"If you win, I'll reward you with three hundred taels, and I'll hire a top-class courtesan from the city for you," Qi Erkui promised the prize in a low voice.

Instructor Song's eyes lit up. He nodded heavily, took up his eyebrow-level staff, and stepped into the arena. Looking at the youthful face of Zhao Jin across from him, he couldn't help feeling a bit more confident. Instructor Song slowly spread his legs into a bow stance, holding the staff in one hand — one end resting on the ground, the other gripped in his palm. The pose looked quite dashing.

Someone in the crowd — no one knew who started it — shouted out a loud "Bravo!" Another person even offered commentary: "How much skill a man has with the staff, you can tell just by looking at his opening Banner-and-Drum stance. This Master Song is truly impressive!"

Zhao Jin held his long spear level, his body bending forward slightly into a charging posture. The spear techniques he had learned had no set routines — they were all about how to survive on the battlefield, how to kill!

Both sides readied themselves. Their opening stances held still for a single breath — and with that, the match began. Zhao Jin let out a thunderous roar and charged forward in great strides!

A forward thrust while charging — it sounds simple, but in truth it requires thousands of repetitions of tempering. Whether three steps, a dozen steps, or several dozen steps, deviating by even a single step will weaken the force. But Zhao Jin's years of focused, bitter training allowed him to bring this thrust to its maximum effect.

Zhao Jin had charged three steps when Instructor Song's expression changed. His opponent's move was far too direct, with no probing at all. The Banner-and-Drum stance he had assumed did indeed allow for probing and follow-up moves — but right now, all he could do was dodge.

In the blink of an eye, Zhao Jin was upon him. Instructor Song leapt to the side, still gripping his staff in one hand, and swung it down in a chopping strike!

One could charge forward unstoppably, but that didn't mean one couldn't stop the charge. On the battlefield, you always had to deal with countless changes. But Zhao Jin firmly remembered his uncle Zhao Zhenxing's teaching: for the same motion, the thrust is fastest. His thrust struck empty air, but his footwork didn't change in the slightest — he charged straight through, evading the descending eyebrow-level staff.

Instructor Song had dodged with a leap, so his hand movements couldn't possibly be too nimble. He landed and steadied himself, then thrust his staff toward Zhao Jin's brow. A typical opponent would lean back, and then he would have a variation ready — but Zhao Jin didn't treat it as a tap; he treated it as a full thrust. He bent at the waist and ducked his head to evade the blow, then used that bending motion to store power. His body arched like a drawn bow, and the long spear in his hands thrust straight out!

Although the range of Zhao Jin's arms was small at that moment, the distance between the two had already closed. This thrust — Instructor Song could not dodge it. The long spear struck him hard in the chest. Agonizing pain shot through him instantly, and the strength drained from his body. Zhao Jin's blow carried no small force — it actually sent the man flying. Instructor Song crashed onto his back on the ground, his eyebrow-level staff rolling away from his hand, his features twisted together in pain.

The scene fell silent again. Over on Chen Sheng's side, not a single person even cheered — they were all unhurriedly eating their meat and rice. To them, Zhao Jin's victory was only to be expected.

Qi Erkui and several of the leading figures wore deeply bitter expressions. Both matches had ended extremely quickly. They had all trained in martial arts to some degree and could more or less see clearly: their two strongest fighters were inferior to Zhao Jin's side in every dimension — strength, speed, even reaction in the face of an opponent — the gap was far too great. The participants themselves might still have felt they could resist and hold out, might even have mistakenly believed they had a chance of victory, but the onlookers could see the difference was far too vast.

They had thought Zhao Jin and his few men were strong, but they had never imagined they were strong to this degree. They had wanted to save face — now it seemed they could forget about everything.

"Good!" Someone suddenly shouted — it was One-Eyed Qi, who had been silent the entire time. As One-Eyed Qi shouted, he looked over at Qi Erkui and his group, his remaining eye glaring fiercely. Only because the firelight allowed everyone to see did Qi Erkui and the others suddenly understand. They hurriedly forced smiles onto their faces and joined in the roaring cheers. It spread from one to the next — even those who didn't understand all shouted along, and the atmosphere instantly turned lively.

When the cheering died down, Zhao Jin raised his wine bowl and asked in a clear voice, "Do you submit?"

The other side instinctively raised their wine bowls as well. They had thought Zhao Jin would say a few polite formalities — they hadn't expected him to be so direct.

Qi Erkui and the others looked at one another, their expressions varied. But in the end, they all smiled bitterly and said, "We submit!"

In the afternoon, they had been utterly routed, scared into collapse by Zhao Jin's household troop. In the evening, they proposed a martial contest, and their two strongest fighters had stepped into the arena — only to be easily defeated. In the face of such overwhelming strength, honestly bowing their heads and accepting a lower position was the only real choice.

Having recognized the situation and set aside their ambitions, Qi Erkui and his men were utterly deferential throughout the rest of the banquet. In the end, everyone parted in good cheer. Zhao Jin also learned an amusing tidbit: Qi Erkui was actually the eldest in his family, but he avoided being called "Dakui," because Wu Dalang's fate in Water Margin was far too wretched, and he didn't want any association with it. In the prefectures and counties of Xuzhou and Huai'an near the Shandong border, this was more or less the common custom.

Before the banquet dispersed, Zhao Jin made a point of going over to One-Eyed Qi to exchange a few words, telling him he was welcome to come find him in the city anytime if he had business. The first time he'd met this one-eyed old man, he had been silent and taciturn. This time, however, he discovered that the old man had an excellent grasp of when to advance and when to retreat, and could be said to have spared Qi Erkui quite a bit of trouble. A person like that was worth getting to know.

When they rested that night, Zhao Jin divided his household troops into groups of ten, taking turns standing watch. Each group was led by either himself or one of his companions. To outsiders, their several large carts seemed parked haphazardly — one here, one there — looking quite disorderly. But in truth, if anyone tried to launch a surprise attack in the middle of the night, those carts would serve as obstacles.

Before going to sleep, Zhao Jin also made a point of drilling the household troops: if something happened in the night, which route everyone should take to come out, where they should assemble, and what they needed to guard against — he explained everything in detail.

These matters seemed tedious and fussy, but if they ever encountered a life-or-death emergency, they would be able to counterattack in time and save lives.

That night, however, passed entirely peacefully. At the first light of dawn, Qi Erkui even sent someone over to ask whether they should start preparing breakfast.

Breakfast was soup made from the previous night's pork and mutton bones, along with freshly baked mixed-grain flatbreads and several plates of pickled vegetables. For farming households, this counted as a lavish morning meal. By the time Qi Erkui's man came to ask, Zhao Jin's troop was already assembling and preparing to depart.

"Master Jin, the brothers from the village are waiting to transport the salt out. May we leave now?" Qi Erkui asked respectfully during breakfast.

Zhao Jin nodded. Qi Erkui hurried out to shout the order. It was still the first month of the year, and everyone who had picked up their salt was anxious to get home. At the word to go, they all set out. For a time, Qi Family Village was filled with noise and bustle. The last few groups to leave happened to see Zhao Jin and his men setting out as well, and couldn't help muttering, "For no good reason, he had to keep everyone here an extra night. We've already submitted — what's the point of throwing his weight around like this?"

"Keep your voice down! Couldn't beat them in the afternoon, couldn't beat them at night. Whatever he says, we just listen."

"Let's go, let's go. If we move fast, we can still get back in time for a drink. Right now, that young master is the biggest man around — throwing his weight around is only right."

Naturally, Zhao Jin didn't hear any of this talk, nor would he have paid attention to such things. He simply spoke: "To Maocun Market!"

That was where the Incense-Smelling Sect evangelist, the Zheng couple — the ones who hadn't come to pay homage — were located. But the household troops only learned their destination at that moment, and they had no idea who this Zheng couple was. They simply followed orders.

Compared to how he had handled Qi Erkui, Zhao Jin was far more cautious in dealing with Evangelist Zheng. He knew the Incense-Smelling Sect had numerous followers, with eyes and ears everywhere. Now that they were being cowed and pressured by him, they were even more sensitive than usual. Although they had outwardly expressed submission, the slightest stir on his side would surely spread the word. It was very likely the Zheng couple would get wind of it in advance and flee.

So for this operation against the Zheng couple, Zhao Jin had only told his companions. He hadn't even assigned Liu Yong to stake the place out. With everything kept secret, no one would set an ambush ahead of time, and no information would leak.

When they left, Qi Erkui naturally saw them off for several li, and again mentioned that he would come into the city once he had gathered the silver. As for the scouts Liu Yong had placed here, Zhao Jin didn't ask, and Liu Yong didn't bring it up. It was perfectly normal for drifters from the underworld to come buy some salt to earn a little extra — no one would grow suspicious.

Maocun Market lay northeast of Xuzhou city, ten li from the city walls. The land there was saline-alkali soil, yielding no crops. The reason people had gathered into a village there was because of a market. Before the Jia Canal was opened, the confluence of the Yellow River and the Grand Canal was right at Xuzhou. Boatmen from Henan coming east along the Yellow River would bring local products to sell, earning themselves a bit of extra income. Entering the city was inconvenient, so Maocun Market was the most suitable place. The grain-transport workers on the canal did the same. The boatmen and boat owners from both rivers would also purchase Xuzhou goods on the spot to take back with them.

Over many years of this, although Maocun Market never dealt in bulk commodities, it still prospered. But once the Jia Canal was opened, Xuzhou was left far from the canal route, and Maocun Market declined along with it. Business on the Yellow River still continued, but it was barely enough to keep things going. According to the latest news, Maocun Market seemed to have been bought up by Cloud Mountain Temple.

Going the roundabout way, it was nearly thirty li. Even traveling light as Zhao Jin's group was, it would take over two shichen. By the time they arrived, it was nearly time for the midday meal.

An Incense-Smelling Sect evangelist was different from a den-master like Qi Erkui. When it was time to distribute salt, Qi Erkui could mobilize several hundred men to make a show of force. The Incense-Smelling Sect's followers were all impoverished commoners, with no fighting ability whatsoever — there was nothing to worry about. After a brief rest about five li from the village, Zhao Jin led his men closer.

This place was different from Qi Family Village, and different from all the villages along the road. Elsewhere, there were just houses and courtyards, with farmland and wilds beyond. But the outskirts of Maocun Market were a large storage yard. Every open space was filled with stacks of goods, looking from a distance like rows of small fortresses. Between these "fortresses," heads bobbed and weaved, and large carts threaded their way through — busy with who knew what.

When Zhao Jin and his fully armed men approached, it was impossible for anyone not to notice. Yet the locals weren't the least bit intimidated. A dozen or so men, armed with spears and staves, came forward. They wore ordinary padded jackets and short robes — the only thing slightly unusual was that every one of them had his head wrapped in cloth.