Chapter 398: Level-Brow Stronghold

He hadn't gone more than a few steps before he saw more of the pattern. The arrows coming in from outside seemed carefully measured, aimed only at places like rooftops and wall tops where they wouldn't hurt anyone. The other side was holding back — maybe they even feared the Wang family's reputation. At that thought, Second Master Wang's courage swelled, and he shouted for the clansmen and able-bodied laborers in the manor to come out with him.

Just ahead was the manor's main gate. Like the estates of other families, the Wang manor had watchtowers flanking the gate. Before Second Master Wang could order the gate opened, a manor laborer came running up, stumbling and tumbling. It was pitch dark, but even by the flickering torchlight, the man's face was visibly deathly pale.

"S-second master... second master, there are several hundred men outside, all... all on horseback..." the laborer stammered.

Several hundred men? Second Master Wang and the indignant kinsmen around him all stopped in their tracks. Second Master Wang immediately sensed something was off and barked in a low growl, "Several hundred men outside and not a sound? You're talking rot!"

The laborer nodded blankly. Second Master Wang was about to explode in anger when a chill shot from his lower back straight to his scalp. He had seen gatherings of thousands and hundreds of men before. To say nothing else, the refugee bands these days were all huge — several hundred of them would raise a din loud enough to split the sky. Yet outside, it was this quiet?

He was no brainless brute. Once he caught on, he quickly signaled the men around him to stay quiet and crept up the watchtower himself, light-footed and careful.

Arrows kept flying in from outside. Though they came only sporadically, Second Master Wang stayed extremely cautious, exposing no more than half his head above the watchtower parapet as he sneaked a furtive look outside.

One glance, and his whole body froze rigid. Outside, there were indeed several hundred men, and indeed, there was hardly any sound. Two hundred men stood in solemn silence, holding their horses. The sheer orderliness was staggering. The Wang family had once mustered its clansmen and laborers to go out and fight. The space a few dozen men took up was larger than what these several hundred outside occupied. Apart from this immaculate formation, three men were slowly and leisurely drawing their bows.

At this sight, Second Master Wang stood stunned for a long moment, unresponsive. He had never imagined seeing such a scene in Suzhou, and he didn't even know how to describe it.

These were elite troops! Elite troops! Second Master Wang racked his brains and finally found the words. Years ago, the personal guards of the Fengyang garrison eunuch had come to Suzhou on official business, and their bearing had been vaguely like the presence of the men outside.

When Second Master Wang climbed down from the watchtower, his hands and feet were trembling, and his complexion was no better than that of the laborer before him.

"Is anyone of the Wang family present? Zhao Jin has come to visit!" A shout rang out from outside.

Hearing this, Second Master Wang shuddered again. Zhao Jin — that Zhao Jin had come to the door. What to do? As he stood there frantic and at a loss, First Master Wang, Wang Yishi, strode out quickly. His face was just as grim. He stepped forward and shoved his flustered younger brother aside, then shouted toward the outside: "What brings Community Head Zhao here so late? It's dark and inconvenient — Community Head Zhao, please turn back!"

"Better to open the gate and talk. Don't wait for us to come in ourselves and spoil the goodwill." The voice from outside was perfectly flat.

First Master Wang Yishi turned his head and looked at his younger brother. Second Master Wang knew what that look meant and hurriedly shook his head, whispering, "We can't beat them, we can't beat them. If you pulled together every available man in Suzhou, they'd probably still get wiped out. If they wanted to force their way in, they'd have charged in long ago..."

A fierce glare from his older brother silenced Second Master Wang at once. But Wang Yishi didn't know much about blade-wielding matters, and on this front, he trusted his younger brother's judgment.

He hesitated there for a moment. In the end, he was a hereditary clerical official who had rolled through the gray zones for years and had a streak of ruthlessness in him. Wang Yishi gritted his teeth, waved his hand, and said, "Open the gate!"

The manor laborers below hadn't yet reacted. It took a roar from Second Master Wang to send them scrambling into action.

"Second brother, have a few of the whelps slip out through the tunnel first. Don't send them to the Yang family," Wang Yishi quietly instructed first.

The moment the gate swung open, the Wang clansmen in the courtyard fell dead silent. Then came a few clattering sounds — someone had lost their grip on their weapon and dropped it to the ground. Only a handful of men had peered out from the watchtower earlier. Everyone else had followed Second Master Wang out without knowing what was really outside. Now they saw clearly.

Row upon row of able-bodied young men stood in formation, spears in hand, utterly silent. They held horses by the reins. In the glow of a scant few torches, they gazed ahead with a calm, chilling stillness.

At first glance, the Wang clansmen almost thought these were not living things. But then the pressure hit them, crashing over them like a wave. In front of these elite young men stood a few youths, their expressions utterly relaxed. Yet every one of them wore iron armor. One look at all that iron, and the Wang family knew the gap between them. If you gathered up every blade and axe in the hands of the men in this courtyard, you still might not be able to forge a single suit of that armor. Since when had Xuzhou become so lavishly equipped!

"Which one is Wang Yishi?" a young man asked with a smile.

Wang Yishi, whose face had been taut just moments before, now plastered it with smiles. He bowed, cupped his fists, and hurried out, his words dripping with deference: "This humble one is Wang the Elder. May I ask if this gentleman is Master Jin?"

When the gate was shut, they called him "Young Master Zhao." The moment the gate opened and they saw his strength, the address instantly switched to one of respect.

"That's me. I'm here for two matters. First, from now on, when my farmstead gathers refugees, you will not interfere. Otherwise, your family will be destroyed and its people killed. Second, your family's grain stores are no doubt considerable. My manor has a large population, so I've come to borrow grain. Can you agree to these two things?"

At the words "family destroyed and its people killed," Wang Yishi trembled all over. He listened to what followed in a daze. The moment Zhao Jin finished asking, he hastily nodded and answered, "Rest assured, Master Jin, this humble one can do all that. It's just... it's just..."

He trailed off mid-sentence. Zhao Jin glanced at him, and he immediately stumbled over his words. Only after steadying himself did he dare continue: "Master Jin, this humble one also has a large family to feed. I beg Master Jin to show mercy and leave us some rations."

Zhao Jin had thought the man was about to plead poverty and make excuses. He hadn't expected this. He couldn't help but laugh and simply waved his hand, saying, "Borrowing your grain stores doesn't mean starving your whole family to death. If you can broker some grain purchases, you're free to do that too. Zhao doesn't mistreat those who help."

Although Suzhou had made things difficult, they hadn't resorted to drawn-blade bloodshed. So Zhao Jin's approach was mainly deterrence — he didn't want to push things to the extreme.

Besides, this Wang fellow was reasonably sensible, so Zhao Jin naturally left him some room. As for Wang Yishi, the moment he heard the words "broker grain purchases," the stinginess he'd felt just moments before instantly gave way to a lively scheming. As a clerk in the Revenue Office, he had access to no small amount of grain that cost him nothing. Wang Yishi immediately began thinking about robbing Peter to pay Paul — maybe even turning a profit in the process.

Zhao Jin didn't linger long. The Wang family wasn't worth his time. He simply swung onto his horse and said, "Since you've agreed to Zhao's two matters, let bygones be bygones. Just make sure there are no slip-ups. A fast horse from Xuzhou can reach Suzhou in just a few hours."

He waved his hand from horseback, and those solemnly standing household troops all mounted up in one motion, their movements crisp and uniform. The sight made the Wang clansmen collectively shudder. With several hundred such crack troops under his command, he could rampage unchecked across all of Suzhou and even farther. It was laughable that their own family, blind as they were, had ever set themselves against a power like this.

Zhao Jin had yet to spur his horse when Wang Yishi suddenly smacked his own forehead and shouted, "Master Jin, please wait! This humble one has something to report."

The relevant figures in Fengyang Prefecture had noticed the refugees' northward movement over ten days ago. At first, they let them drift freely. Later, they discovered that stopping them and penning them on their own lands brought far greater benefits. Once that became clear, everyone used whatever means they could, scrambling to block and entice them.

But by then, the refugees had already reached the area between Guzhen and Suzhou, north of Fengyang. Many were hiding in the countryside around Suzhou. They wouldn't have to endure there long before someone would find them and lead them on to Xuzhou.

It wasn't long before this, too, was discovered. All along the line from Guzhen and Suzhou city to the border between Xuzhou and Fengyang Prefecture, there were militia and village braves setting up blockades everywhere — even bandits and mounted brigands from the outlaw world.

Besides using force, the village braves and militia also shouted a few pleasant words. But these bandits and mounted brigands showed not the slightest courtesy. They drew blades and threatened outright. Killing and wounding people was commonplace.

Some local strongmen farther away, who coveted this manpower, hired violent men to abduct people. A few hundred wen per head — far cheaper than a single goat.

These bandits had no humanity whatsoever. They drove the people back by force, treating the refugees like livestock. They picked out the women with any looks and ravaged them wantonly. Then those women and the surviving children would be sold as even more valuable goods to various departments and counties across Fengyang Prefecture, and on to Yangzhou and Luzhou...

Level-Brow Stronghold was one such gang. Level-Brow Stronghold was an outfit of about a hundred bandits who usually operated between Lingbi, Suzhou, and Gucheng Town, doing home invasions, highway robbery, and blade-work for hire. This area was crawling with local tyrants, so they didn't dare run completely wild. That made this period the best they'd ever had it.

They didn't even bother staying at their mountain stronghold anymore. They set up a small camp right beside the official road between Gucheng Town and Suzhou. Every day they went out rounding up refugees. At first, they'd capture them and send them off to various places. Later, they just penned them up like cattle and horses in stockades and sold them off directly on the spot.

Level-Brow Stronghold had gotten into this business early, and their reputation had spread. Every day, people came to this makeshift fenced camp to buy and select people. Besides the local strongmen and landlords of Fengyang Prefecture, there were also slave traders from Yangzhou and even Jiangnan. The former picked out strong laborers; the latter bought women and children. Business was booming, and life was plush.

Originally a bandit force of just over a hundred, they'd also picked out some ruthless able-bodied men from among the refugees. Now they had swelled to a force of over four hundred.

They offered no relief to the refugees they captured, just tossed them there to starve. Anyone who tried to flee or resist was killed. Only the decent-looking women and children got a little food — partly to keep them available for the bandits' pleasure, and partly so they could be sold for a good price.

The entire camp reeked of blood and rot. Refugees died every day. At this point, being bought was actually a deliverance. Whatever they'd be used for in the future, whether as beasts of burden or something else, at least dead was a loss, so they'd be given a little food.

The headmen and core members of Level-Brow Stronghold naturally didn't live in such a filthy, stinking place. They had taken over a separate residence nearby, an estate abandoned by a small landlord who had fled the famine. Every day they picked women from the camp and brought them there for their amusement.

The weather was turning cold, but the people they caught were growing more numerous. Yesterday, a ride out on horseback had netted them several hundred in one sweep. A few had managed to escape, but with this many, it was enough — another sum of silver, and even some fun to be had.

The camp penning the refugees naturally needed guards. Since they were flush with cash, the ordinary members of Level-Brow Stronghold all had iron weapons. Good blades like pudao were carried by the core members. The newer recruits at least had a rusty, chipped blade or axe — or else they carried a sharpened wooden stake.

The headman on guard duty here was in a foul mood. In this freezing weather, he wanted to be back holding a woman and enjoying himself too.

"Master, have mercy, give us something to eat, the child can't hold on." Passing by one of the stockades, he heard a woman inside crying and pleading.

The headman ignored her completely and was about to stride past. The refugee woman, perhaps desperate, reached out to grab him and nearly caught hold.

The refugee woman was filthy. Her hand caught the corner of the headman's robe, leaving a handprint at once. The headman tried to pull free but couldn't — the woman's grip was too strong, and the robe actually tore. The Level-Brow Stronghold headman flew into a rage. He flipped his pudao and hacked down savagely.

Blood sprayed. That one slash split the woman and the child in her arms wide open — one blade, two lives. A commotion rippled through the refugees in the stockade. Many shrank back to either side instinctively, afraid of being splattered with blood, then glared at the headman, grinding their teeth.

This Level-Brow Stronghold headman felt not the slightest unease. His underlings were already using blades, swords, and wooden spikes to force the refugees back. So what if the refugees outnumbered them? They'd been starved for so long and were all barehanded. They had no ability to resist whatsoever and could be slaughtered to the last at any moment.

"Master Wolf, someone's coming from the north! They've got horses and carts — looks like they're here to buy livestock!" someone shouted loudly. It was the lookout posted on the official road, reporting that guests had arrived.

This headman had once been called Four Dogs. His underlings, of course, didn't dare call him that, so they flattered him by shouting "Master Wolf" instead.

"Hurry back and fetch First Master and Second Master and the others! Everyone look sharp — there'll be a reward tonight!" The headman casually wiped his pudao on a refugee's clothes as he barked the order.

His men all roared and laughed in agreement. A reward meant either wine and meat or women — in any case, a chance to enjoy themselves. The refugees, too, looked full of hope. Leaving this livestock-pen of a place had to be better than here. At least there'd be a way to stay alive.

That Four Dogs also quickly found a mound of dirt to stand on, looking far off to the north. He could see a group of over a hundred people heading this way. Quite a few in the group carried weapons, and there were also several large carts. Carrying weapons was nothing rare — they had to guard and escort the refugees; if anyone ran off or rebelled halfway, they had to be able to put it down. The large carts were simple enough too — having spent money to buy them, you'd take some care. There would always be some food made from wild greens, coarse grain, and bran to sustain them on the journey back.

Don't think that just because this Four Dogs was fierce and vicious toward the refugees, he didn't know how to greet customers with a smile. Holding a pudao, his face all smiles, he waited by the roadside.

"Good sirs, if you're looking to buy some labor, all our stock here is sturdy and strong..." He began with his habitual opening line, but couldn't help stumbling over his words, because this group didn't look like buyers of people. Over a hundred and several dozen men, only a dozen or so were around thirty years old; the rest were all very young, each one grim-faced and holding a long spear — a terrifying sight.

Still, the few at the head were clearly from wealthy, noble families. Could it be they'd brought the youngsters out to broaden their horizons? Four Dogs pressed on: "Think about it, good sirs — in this freezing cold, even digging up tree bark and grass roots is no easy task. Anyone who's still holding on at this point has to be first-rate, sturdy stock. Feed them up for a few days back home, and they'll be a hale and hearty man, worth an ox in labor."

Those several young men exchanged glances. Four Dogs thought his pitch was working — these were lines he'd practiced smooth over the past days. Looking at their appearance, he added, thinking himself clever: "If the young masters have something else in mind, we've got women of any age here. The price, of course, would be higher than usual. I won't hide it from you — even people from Yangzhou come here to buy, saying they want them for raising horses or the like."

At these words, the few men all smiled. The young man at their head merely waved a hand and said, "Let's go in and take a look."

Four Dogs hastily agreed, thinking to himself that these young men might already be managing household affairs — they actually knew to go inside and inspect the goods.

As they walked in, over twenty of the militia behind them followed. This small number was nothing Four Dogs and the others of Qi Eyebrow Stockade worried about — Qi Eyebrow Stockade had a full three hundred men here.

They walked past the pens one by one. The stench of blood and filth made every one of them frown. The refugees' weeping and begging for mercy stirred them even more. Seeing their reaction, Four Dogs was pleased. These wealthy old skinflints devoured people without spitting out the bones, yet put on such a show of false benevolence. Coming here, they always had to display some kind of compassion and would spend a bit more coin.

"What happened here?" Over at the edge of the pen, the bodies of the woman and child still lay there, blood covering the ground. The other refugees looked on, numb.

"A small matter, a small matter. The woman and child suddenly went mad. I gave them a quick end with one stroke!" Four Dogs said with a chuckle.

At these words, someone inside the pen could finally hold back no longer. A young man cried out in anger: "Sister Deng only wanted to beg a mouthful of food from you, and you cut her down with one stroke! What 'went mad'!"

Four Dogs frowned, raised the blade in his hand, pointed it over, and cursed: "You thing lower than pigs and dogs, if you've got no wish to live, I'll grant it to you!"

He had just taken one step forward when he saw the few young men beside him exchanging glances. He didn't think much of it — they were all doing business here. These two-legged sheep hadn't been sold yet, so it was no concern of outsiders. Just as he thought this, he suddenly saw a flash of light, and then a violent pain shot through his right arm. When he steadied himself, he realized his right hand had already been cut off. Before he could cry out in agony, another flash of blade — his left hand was also severed. The pudao clattered to the ground.

The young man at the head had just sheathed a short blade. After cutting off both his hands, the young man moved with extreme speed, sweeping his leg across and kicking Four Dogs straight into the pen.

"Kill everyone not inside the pens!" the young man shouted.

That was the shout Four Dogs heard. He had no time left to react. The searing pain and blood loss from both arms was one reason. The other — the refugees he had treated as cattle and beasts were now closing in around him. An overwhelming terror kept Four Dogs from even crying out at first. Then, coming to his senses, he screamed: "Save me... give me a quick death..." And then he could not utter another word. All around him, people were pressing in.