Chapter 528: Going or Not Going to He Family Village

"They're beating someone to death!"

"Are you really going to beat someone to death?!"

"Mercy! Mercy, they're really beating us to death... Grandfathers, mercy!"

Watching the yamen runners strike without the slightest mercy, every inch of their bodies screaming in pain, and some of the runners, worked into a frenzy, had actually gone to grab wooden clubs and iron rulers — if those things really came smashing down, they were afraid they truly would be beaten to death.

The might of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, the prestige of imperial envoys — before life and death, none of it mattered a whit. These four Embroidered Uniform Guard constables were suddenly gripped by overwhelming terror. Could it be that these lawless runners of the Xuzhou magistrate's yamen really meant to beat the few of them to death?

Someone even thought, if they really were beaten to death, the bodies could just be buried somewhere or tossed into the river, nowhere to be found. If anyone came asking afterward, they'd just say they never saw them. Could it be that Han Song and Yan Shao'an really did die here...

Another thought even further — he usually wasn't that close with his superiors. Had this assignment been sent his way not to make a fortune, but to do him harm? Had they sent him here to die?

Embroidered Uniform Guard men were not like ordinary martial fellows; their minds worked through many more angles and were far sharper. Once these thoughts struck them, sheer horror crept over them. What face or grievance mattered anymore? All they wanted was to beg and plead, to save their own skins.

They rolled on the ground, crying out wildly, "Grandfather! Ancestors!" But the yamen runners did not dare soften their blows — they just kept glancing toward the gate. Deputy Chief Constable Zhao Zhentang stood there. Without a word from Old Master Zhao, none of them dared ease up.

Fists and kicks rained down, and the wailing of these few men gradually grew faint and feeble. The runners glanced toward the gate more and more often. Were they really going to beat them to death? If they died, they died — better that than breaking the rules and having someone creep into your house in the dead of night to hack you to death.

"Enough, that's about right. Find someone to send them back to their lodgings. It would look ugly if they died inside the yamen," Zhao Zhentang said flatly.

At these words, everyone finally breathed a sigh of relief and hurriedly stopped. Though they hadn't held back while striking, there were no crippling injuries; those constables were just lying there playing dead dogs.

"It's been a long time since I've had a drink with you all. Tonight, a banquet at Cloud Mountain Tavern — anyone who'll do me the honor, come along. Let's have some fun together!" Zhao Zhentang said with a laugh.

Everyone quickly smiled and agreed, knowing this was a reward for today's work. The Zhao family always did things with decency, never letting anyone work for nothing, and they were generous to boot. After all everyone had done today, it certainly wouldn't be just a drink.

After saying this, Zhao Zhentang nodded to Clerk Li, his expression very solemn, then strode off with his men.

Just that nod, yet Clerk Li trembled with excitement. He knew this favor was now firmly established. Back when Zhao Zhentang was an executioner, he had been a figure of some note in the yamen, but compared to Clerk Li, he was nothing — a nod from Clerk Li when they met was already considered treating someone kindly.

Now, the Zhao family's standing went without saying; everyone looked up to them. The trouble for everyone was that the Zhao family had risen too fast, their influence too great, and Zhao Jin was far too capable. There was no way to help them, and by the time anyone thought to curry favor, it was already too late. For these local bosses — the clerks and runners — they naturally knew that if they wanted to keep their footing in Xuzhou now, they had to win the Zhao family's favor and recognition.

But now, whatever the Zhao family wanted to do in Xuzhou, it was done with a single word. What need was there for clerks and runners to do anything? Everyone was frantic at being unable to ingratiate themselves. The only time any connection could be made was when they went to He Family Village to give lessons to the children of the Student Corps. Yet the clerks themselves were baffled by this — what future could there be in learning their set of skills? Was the idea to spend your life scheming inside a yamen, saddled with a lowly, unranked status?

This time, however, was different. Their attitude toward the Embroidered Uniform Guard made it crystal clear which side they stood on, and the Zhao family would remember this favor. Clerk Li made no effort to hide the excitement on his face. Clerks from other sections gathered around to watch the spectacle, and as they looked at Clerk Li, every face was filled with envy and jealousy.

Before anyone had recovered from the thrill of beating the Embroidered Uniform Guard, Adviser Wang walked over. For a moment, the crowd's mood shifted. They were all local natives, but Adviser Wang was the magistrate's representative. He cared only about Magistrate Tong's smooth career path and might not consider their difficulties. If he chose to make an issue of this, it would be truly awkward.

"Well done. If every Tom, Dick, and Harry could come here with their hand out, would our yamen ever get any work done?!" Adviser Wang said this single line, then went on his way.

Everyone looked at each other, then understood — the magistrate's side shared the same attitude, or at the very least, was turning a blind eye to this matter.

The four Embroidered Uniform Guard constables felt as if there was not a single part of their bodies that did not ache; they could not even sit up. But the yamen runners paid that no mind. They'd already done the beating, faces were thoroughly torn, and the Zhao family had everything covered — who cared whether they lived or died?

The gatehouse runners called for an empty grain cart, practically tossed the four men onto it, and didn't even pay the fare, only telling the carter to haul them as far away as possible.

The cart jolted and bumped, making Zhang Jianting and the other three cry out in pain. The carter, however, recognized the official robes and boots these men wore and dared not treat them with the same contempt as those lords in the yamen. He had no choice but to slow down and carefully deliver them back to their inn.

There were quite a few people in and around the inn, and these "common folk" had considerably more nerve than the carter. Many, seeing such a wretched sight, broke into open grins — only switching to covering their mouths after being warned with stern glares.

Fortunately, the inn attendant served them diligently enough, coming out to help these Embroidered Uniform Guard lords who could barely walk back to their guest room, and sending for a bonesetter.

The moment the door to the private courtyard room closed, one constable said in a trembling voice, "Chief Zhang, we can't go to that He Family Village. I still have an eighty-year-old mother at home..."

"Don't give me that. Your mother's fifty at most!"

"Chief Zhang, that Zhao Jin's reach extends to heaven itself. If the people in the yamen dare treat us like this, once we go to Zhao Jin's own territory, we really won't be coming back!"

"Han Song and Yan Shao'an — those two probably really did meet their end around here..."

Zhang Jianting, lying on the bed, kept grimacing in pain. Hearing his men say this, the corner of his eye twitched, and he said through gritted teeth, "We leave. We leave today. Have the attendant hire a cart."

"Chief Zhang, weren't there still a dozen or so plainclothes brothers at He Family Village? Are we just leaving like this, abandoning them?"

"If you want to go, go yourself. I'm going back!"

At He Family Village at this moment, winter training was in full swing. Farm work everywhere had ceased, the ground was freezing harder by the day, and all construction projects had also stopped.

Last year, everything had been about preparation and adaptation. The refugees at that time had only been repairing their dwellings or were organized to gather grass and chop firewood. A few who had the means even went north of the Yellow River to haul back coal; otherwise, there was no securing fuel for the winter.

This year was different. After a year of hard work, the refugees had reaped a harvest. In that same year of toil, their houses and dwellings had more or less taken shape, and life had settled down a little.

Once settled, people always want a home. Many young men and women who had been complete strangers developed feelings for each other and, with the approval of the refugee overseers and the Zhao Battalion squad leaders, married and started families.

Originally, the overseers at each village had strictly forbidden young refugees from marrying. The reason was simple: "Great households all have this rule. Once lads and lasses pair up and start a family, they no longer put their whole heart into working for the master. How can Lord Jin's affairs be delayed?"

But soon, an order came down from Zhao Jin: marriages were to be voluntary, and no one was to interfere or obstruct. The overseers, puzzled as they were, went among the refugees proclaiming Lord Jin's compassion, saying this was a tremendous act of grace from Lord Jin.

The refugees' lives had barely gotten on track. They couldn't say they were full, but they no longer went hungry. They had a roof over their heads, there were no bandits or such to harass them, and young women were not violated or sold. Yet, once people settled down, they began thinking of returning home. For no clear reason, rumors spread, saying that Shandong had favorable weather, that there you didn't have to toil like oxen and horses for others, and you could even farm several people's worth of land.

It's hard to leave one's native soil. Some were tempted; some banded together, wanting to leave. These people were all seized and dealt with harshly. The Xu family coal mines and ironworks at Jingshan, the barren marshlands of Huai'an Prefecture — everywhere needed hard laborers and slave workers. Sent there, they would simply toil until they died.

Beyond that, those who spread the rumors were also rooted out and publicly beheaded outside the various villages and stockades as a warning. Their identities were easily uncovered: there were preachers from the Smelling Incense Sect, and slave traders from various places. Heavy punishments, beheadings — the bloody, murderous severity of the measures instantly terrified everyone.

Moreover, once the deceivers and seducers were dragged out and their identities announced, the refugees' hearts died within them. These sect members and slave traders — everyone had suffered bitterly at their hands back in their home villages and on the road. Who would willingly endure more misery?

Afterward, however, some sharp minds reflected that the rumor-spreading swindlers had been rooted out very quickly, almost as if there had been no investigation process at all. Had they been known in advance? Did the Zhao Battalion have its own eyes and ears planted among the refugee settlements? But sharp minds also understood more than others, and naturally, they would never voice such speculations.

Speculation aside, since the start of winter, the Zhao Battalion had been drawing young men from the various refugee camps for concentrated training — which only proved something further. Of course, these clever, quick-witted people could also see that for over a year now, all the refugees had been equal. Everyone came from bitter origins, reduced to this state; there was no high or low, noble or base. All were oxen and horses driven by the overseers.

Yet slowly, some young refugees who performed outstandingly, worked loyally, and settled down contentedly began to be promoted. Though they were not put in charge of the places they knew best, the occasional scraps of word that drifted back showed that they had become men above other men — either wielding blades with authority or serving as overseers eating official grain.

For this winter's draft and assembly training, every man chosen was beaming with joy, while everyone else looked on with envy and jealousy, knowing this was a step straight to heaven. There were also those who muttered snide remarks: they're just becoming village headmen and hired thugs for a great household, not officials — what's there to be so happy about?

Thanks to "User Chen Jianxin, Unmoving as a Mountain, Roronoa Zoro, Yuan Heng Li Zhen, Kong Se Liang Nan, 123*" and all new and old friends for your tips. Yesterday there were seven or eight tippers and eleven monthly tickets. It seems the monthly ticket potential has been pretty much tapped out by my constant single-chapter appeals. A word of reflection: the various rankings on Chuangshi seem to have shifted abruptly of late; striving to get ahead is not easy. Thank you, everyone.