Chapter 286

286. Chapter 286: Night Talk

"The cavalry we sent out today reported back — nothing unusual, everything on the Yellow River as it was before," Zhao Jin said in a low voice. As he spoke, he couldn't help a bitter smile, shaking his head helplessly. "Hardly anyone from the surrounding villages has left. Everyone's staying put at home. Word is they suspect we've got some scheme, that we're using this as an excuse to drive them off and swallow up their land."

Everyone was taken aback, then all shook their heads.

Ruhui had guessed the Xu family would fight the refugees to the death — everyone in Xuzhou thought the same. Now, with all news cut off from where the refugees were, all anyone could do was guess.

The situation on the north bank of the Yellow River at Xuzhou was not what everyone had guessed. The refugees did not number a hundred thousand. When you see a dark, dense mass of people, who stops to count them carefully? You just estimate high. In truth, the refugees were just under forty thousand.

From Yuncheng County southward, refugees kept gathering along the way, destroying village after village, sweeping up the common folk. But just as many refugees starved or fell sick and died, or died fighting village militias and even government troops, and some slipped away midway and deserted. With this constant coming and going, the numbers held steady at just under forty thousand.

All the way south, the old, the weak, the sick, and the crippled had died off. There was no spare food for them, and they couldn't out-grab the able-bodied anyway. The refugees now were all young men and women in their prime.

Every day they were still ravenously hungry; every day people still starved to death. But the number dying of hunger grew fewer and fewer. The vast majority managed to eat something at least once every two days. Some even got half-full. That was how they kept themselves going, pressing ever forward.

At the same time, the refugee horde's organization had grown far tighter than before. Though masses were starving, those leading "kind souls" were living very well indeed. Every day they urged everyone south, every day they preached about some Maitreya, some Eternal Mother, some Vacuous True Homeland, about great calamity now and ultimate bliss to come.

In that atmosphere of despair, amid the ceaseless daily clamor, in the weakness of starvation, most of these refugees were already thoroughly convinced. Whatever those leading "kind souls" said, they believed. Whatever they were told to do, they did.

On Shandong soil, when they'd first set out from Yuncheng County, charging a tightly guarded stockade for a mouthful of food had been near impossible. They'd often rush in recklessly, only to fall back after suffering heavy casualties. But the further they went, the more villages and stockades they could break open. Shandong was stricken everywhere, and there wasn't much plunder to be had, but it was still a resupply. The disaster victims and refugees believed this was because of their own piety, that they had divine protection. In truth, it was because they'd shed the burden of the old, weak, sick, and crippled, and were growing more experienced by the day.

Among the refugees were those exceptionally fierce and reckless, and those sharp-tongued and skilled at rousing others. These all lived far better than the rest. They gradually became the backbone of the horde, spending each day helping the "kind souls" stir people up and keep order. There had been small groups wanting to go home or head elsewhere — every one was discovered by them and utterly wiped out.

Once they entered Xuzhou territory in South Zhili, they broke through two small stockades in quick succession. Quite a few people managed to eat until half-full, and many spirits soared. They rubbed their fists and palms, eager to crack open more stockades. Gazing at Pei County's seat from afar, everyone was keen to head over. But the main body kept moving south, reaching the area around Chacheng and Jingshan. The refugees, now quite seasoned, knew there were big manors here — cracking them open would surely bring great rewards.

But this manor was unexpectedly tough to crack. Normally, if everyone grit their teeth and charged, the ones in front were bound to die — that was just bad luck, and a release. Then the ones behind would push forward, and the village militia usually couldn't hold. Who'd have thought this manor was packed with able-bodied men, fully armed, and even had firearms. When they got close, crude cannons roared. After losing several hundred lives, the leaders didn't dare attack again.

Still, the manor knew how to handle things — they actually gave out some grain. Only after the refugee horde had put some distance between themselves and the manor did they dare light fires to cook. It was nothing more than boiling gruel in looted pots and pans, then tossing in whatever wild greens, grass roots — anything edible — and boiling it all into a mess. Flavor was a luxury they dared not hope for; they couldn't even speak of eating their fill. It was just enough to keep them alive.

Looking down from Jingshan, the fields were dotted everywhere with campfires. Around each fire, refugees clustered together. Beside the fires, people were preaching at the top of their lungs. Originally, this was the "kind souls'" doing. By now, many refugees with a gift for talk had stepped up to preach as well.

"... The True Man says if you go south, you'll live. In the southern city of Xuzhou, the grain is piled high as mountains..."

The preaching everywhere was much the same: how many fine things were inside Xuzhou city, grain so plentiful you couldn't eat it all, and they'd raised plenty of pigs and sheep too. Once they broke open Xuzhou, they wouldn't just eat their fill — they'd eat meat.

In normal times, everyone would have taken these words for a joke. The capital had even finer things — what did that have to do with you? But now, it was as if a fire burned in every heart. Tortured by hunger for so long, all they could think of was one good, full meal. They'd grown used to listening to these "kind souls" rouse and preach; they wouldn't question anything.

Just before entering South Zhili, people had started talking about Xuzhou — how the grain the court had allocated to relieve the refugees and disaster victims had been embezzled, all of it stockpiled right there in Xuzhou. These words stoked everyone to fury. Their closest kin and friends had starved to death one after another, forcing them to flee south just to survive — and all along, those supplies had been in Xuzhou!

Not everyone listened intently to the preaching. Some kept twisting their heads to look in one direction. Over there, set apart from the main refugee body, fires burned bright. All the carts, horses, and grain looted along the way were parked there. Everyone wanted to go there, because going there meant you could eat your fill, and might even be promoted to a squad leader.

After traveling for dozens of days from north to south, everyone knew someone was leading them forward. The ones leading them should be right over there. But everyone was so tormented by hunger, they couldn't spare the thought. They only knew that when the men beside them went over there, they came back as squad leaders. Some women went over there to serve, and came back looking visibly better.

"... A lot of riders came by today. I thought they were coming to attack us..." someone murmured beside a campfire, but was immediately silenced. Without anyone quite noticing, every few hundred refugees now obeyed a single person absolutely.

That group set further apart was nothing like the refugees. The refugees around the campfires were scattered and disorderly, clumped here and there. But here, the outer perimeter was ringed with able-bodied men, formed into their own squads, watching every direction. Though their clothes were ragged, they showed no sign of gauntness. Wipe the dirt from their faces, and you'd see their complexion wasn't bad either. At hand were no sharpened sticks or looted firewood choppers and axes, but steel weapons — blades, axes, and spears, all complete.

These able-bodied men numbered around five hundred. Men kept rising and heading into the main refugee body, while others returned — a constant rotation.

And within the inner circle guarded by these able-bodied men, looted carts were arrayed in a ring. Beside the carts, several dozen tough, battle-hardened men sat or stood. Inside the ring of carts, there was a single campfire. Four big men sat around it, speaking in low voices. The one in the lead was none other than Xu Hongju.

The refugees were noisy; from time to time, a united roar would erupt — chants praising the names of Maitreya and the Eternal Mother. Amid the din, suddenly, from another direction, came howls and moans.

Xu Hongju turned his head to look, then turned back, frowning. "Liu Cheng, are your men that pent up? They'll even take goods this filthy and scrawny?"

This Liu Cheng was the very man who'd led the mounted troop in the raid on the He Family Manor — the cavalry commander under Kong Jiuying. Hearing Xu Hongju's words, he gave a dry laugh and said indifferently, "If they were that bad, you wouldn't have used them so long. They've all got a bit of something. The brothers are just sampling something fresh. Surely Second Master isn't feeling stingy?"

Xu Hongju fixed his eyes on Liu Cheng and said in a muffled voice, "Tell them to keep the noise down. We're about to do something big. If it stirs up some other trouble, all our work will be for nothing. Once we crack Xuzhou open, what goods won't be available?"

Liu Cheng chuckled as he stood. "Whatever Second Master orders. But I manage my own men — the other bands, I can't control."

"Men of the Seven Incense Sticks, go with Master Liu. Kill any who don't fall in line. Pass on my word: anyone who disobeys, I'll wipe out their whole crew, root and branch," Xu Hongju said savagely.

A man beside the carts immediately answered with a loud affirmative. Besides Liu Cheng's own men, several dozen more followed him over. Only three remained before the campfire. Once Liu Cheng was far off, the man sitting to Xu Hongju's left finally said in a low voice, "Second Master, Kong the Tiger's men are all that sort. No point getting angry. We've brought few of our own people. When we reach the city walls, we'll still need their help. Bear with it."

"Hou Wu, it's not that I'm angry about," Xu Hongju said through gritted teeth. After this, he glanced left and right and lowered his voice. "Old Hou, Old Xia, what do you say we clean out this Xu family? If we pull it off, it'd be worth it even if we never go to Xuzhou. Didn't our incense followers inside send word? Whether for official use or private, the weapons in the Xu family stores are countless!"

Hou Wu and Xia Zhongjin exchanged a look. Hou Wu shook his head and urged, "Second Master, this Xu family isn't easy to crack. Those several thousand able-bodied men they have mining and smelting iron aren't like our lot. They've worked together for a long time, all of them full of strength. If they throw themselves into a fight, they're no worse than the militias in those stockades. And the Xu family has no shortage of weapons — they even showed their firearms the other day. If we really make a move and can't break through, wasting time, and the troops from Shandong and South Zhili are mobilized here, then we'll be in real trouble."

Xia Zhongjin nodded and added, "Second Master, our master's intent is very clear. The key this time is for our own people to gain experience, to be tempered. Besides, what's this Xu Family Manor? Taking Xuzhou would be a hundred times better."

At this, Xu Hongju immediately grew extremely agitated. "All told, they only gave us ten suits of armor and a thousand blades," he said sullenly. "With this pittance, we're supposed to break a city? We'd have been better off just sacking the He Family Manor. Cracking that place open would've netted far more than Xuzhou."

Seeing that neither man to his left or right was picking up the thread, Xu Hongju cursed again bitterly and muttered, "That bunch has probably long since fled into the city. We won't be able to strip so much as a single hair."

"Second Master, we've got nearly forty thousand on our side now, and plenty of them are utterly devoted to us. Who knows how many will die beneath Xuzhou's walls. The dead don't count, but those who survive will be of great use to our master. Once we've got enough people like that, why care about one Xuzhou? Jining and Linqing are so many times richer than this place!" Hou Wu spoke with some gravity.

Xia Zhongjin added again, "And it's not certain we can't crack Xuzhou. If we really do, the weapons from the Jingshan Xu family will be ours anyway."

Xu Hongju drew several deep breaths, then suddenly spat on the ground and cursed savagely, "That Xu Big-Foot, that stinking little wench — if she ever falls into my hands, I'll drag her into the compound and use her as an incense burner!"

After this outburst, Xu Hongju had calmed considerably. He spoke: "Hou Wu, send men to check on the boats again. There must be no slip-up there. Old Xia, take some men and make the rounds. The ones we've gathered must not fall into chaos. Several uprisings back in Shandong have already been put down, and the authorities have started relief. If word of that leaks out, everyone will scatter in uproar!"

A large body of refugees crossing the border had always been a grave taboo for the court and local authorities. Government troops would usually be mobilized to contain them, and local relief would follow. These tens of thousands of refugees moving south from Yuncheng County were, of course, a thorn in the authorities' side. But just as the refugees from Yuncheng County began to move, civil unrest had erupted all across Shandong. After years of consecutive disasters, the authorities were utterly overwhelmed, and relief could hardly keep up. It was precisely the southward movement of this large body of disaster victims from Yuncheng County that finally alarmed all parties. The long-overdue relief finally arrived, in some measure, and troops across Shandong began to muster.

Yet the current situation was one of "each sweeping the snow from his own doorstep." The refugees were a great calamity in Shandong, but once they reached South Zhili, they were no longer Shandong's calamity. South Zhili was also suffering disasters and its own refugee woes. But Fengyang Prefecture housed the imperial tombs and ancestral mausoleums, and Pizhou was a critical hub for the tribute grain transport — these two places were of utmost importance. Xuzhou, however, was left largely untended. Everyone figured that, in any case, the refugees couldn't cross the Yellow River anytime soon, so there was still time to deal with them slowly.

This refugee horde led by Xu Hongju could be said to have the advantage of timing, terrain, and popular support. No matter how meticulously planned beforehand, none of it would have mattered — those involved had all been prepared to give up halfway. None had imagined they would approach their destination so smoothly.

The refugees' journey could be called smooth, yet the very thing they'd come to do had hit a snag. This was the true reason for Xu Hongju's fury.

Unlike the tens of thousands of dazed, muddled disaster victims and refugees, Xu Hongju and his men knew exactly what they were doing, and they had never paused.

The refugees never noticed, but there were always a few ox- or horse-drawn carts in the column. Looted goods — grain was distributed, but gold, silver, and valuables were rarely seen. Refugees on the fringes of the horde often spotted a few carts leaving the column and heading north. Once the looted gold, silver, and valuables reached a certain amount, they were loaded onto carts and sent back toward Yuncheng, transported via the Smelling Incense Sect's flying missives and tribute routes — no risk of mishap.

And upon reaching Xuzhou, the carts numbered over forty. These weren't for looting, but for loading the weapons that had been pre-ordered. The weapons, naturally, were produced by the Xu family of Jingshan in Xuzhou.

The Xu family of Jingshan in Xuzhou held a pivotal position in the iron trade under Heaven. The saying "South Foshan, North Xu" referred precisely to Foshan in Guangdong and Xuzhou in South Zhili.

Ironware had many uses. Tools and farming implements were the bulk; weapons were another large portion. By regulation, government troops were supposed to purchase weapons from official government workshops. But those workshops skimped on materials and produced shoddy, crude work — utterly unusable. There was a joke about a man swinging a blade to kill a dog: the blade broke and the dog ran off. Such weapons were naturally unfit for the battlefield to kill the enemy. Fortunately, from the Ministry of War down to the generals in the field, no one much cared. Even military pay was embezzled in every way imaginable — who would bother about weapons? Just going through the motions.

The common soldiers could be fooled, and no one much cared whether they lived or died in battle. But the personal guards and household troops of officers at every level could not be treated so carelessly. They were the core strength of the army, relied upon to charge the enemy and protect their commanders. Their weapons and armor naturally had to be expertly forged. A piece or two could be commissioned from a blacksmith's shop, but for batches, one could only purchase from a place like the Xu family. The guards and private soldiers of wealthy and noble houses protected their own households — this, of course, allowed even less room for carelessness. Thus, they followed the same example as personal guards and household troops, and also had to purchase blades of superior quality.

Beyond South Zhili, the Xu family's weapons business reached several surrounding provinces, with sales even further afield. And such large-scale arms trading was legal. Private weapons manufacturing was generally linked to rebellion, and the authorities would certainly prosecute it severely. But in the Xu family's case, their goods were sold to Regional Commanders and Mobile Corps Commanders and the like. Even the guard units of several garrison eunuchs purchased here, as did many of the nobility in Nanjing.

Not to mention that for decades, either members of the Xu clan or scholars sponsored by the Xu family had served as officials at court, primarily within the Ministry of Works network. The most recent was the Xu clan head's cousin, now already a Vice Minister of Works. The Ministry of Works had been purchasing ironware from the Xu family for more than just a year or two.

Adding all these factors together, the Xu family's weapons business was effectively considered legal. The authorities simply paid it no mind.

Legal business made money; illegal trade brought violent profit. The arms trade was especially so. Figures of the rivers and lakes and the greenwood lived by licking blood from their blades, rolling between life and death every day. With superior weapons and armor in hand, their chances of success and survival increased greatly. Government troops purchasing arms paid market price, of course. But these men were already outlaws — if they wanted to buy weapons from the Xu family, the price would be several times, ten times, or even higher.

But even if you could produce the silver, the Xu family still wouldn't sell. After so many years in the coal and iron business, the Xu family knew perfectly well where the boundaries lay, and knew just how many eyes were fixed on their enterprise. So they had always been exceedingly cautious. They would only sell weapons to those qualified to buy. As for where the buyer resold them afterward — that was no longer the Xu family's concern.

Cloud Mountain Temple had vast holdings and great power, running roughshod over Xuzhou. They maintained warrior monks to guard the temple, and the authorities permitted their weapons purchases. But no one paid attention to the detailed accounts. No one noticed that each year, the Cloud Mountain Temple warrior monks always "wore out" a great many weapons, which then had to be repurchased from the Xu family. These "worn-out" weapons that were cycled out were mostly resold. Cloud Mountain Temple made a fortune in the process.

Three years ago, the Smelling Incense Sect had connected to this line. He Weiyuan acted as the front man for the purchases, which were then shipped back to Shandong. At first, the Smelling Incense Sect was very careful, keeping each shipment small and gradually increasing. Just as they began large-scale purchasing, He Weiyuan's entire family was exterminated, and Cloud Mountain Temple was smashed by Zhao Jin. The line was severed in an instant.