Chapter 657: Audacious Beyond Belief — Geng Mancang

That night, quite a few people of status had already sent men out to make inquiries, but each one was exceedingly cautious. Everyone knew Zhao's Camp was scouring the city making arrests; to be carelessly taken for an accomplice of the assassins would mean disaster. The government offices, on the other hand, made no move at all, because both the prefectural and county yamen were inside Shanyang City. By that hour, the city gates had long been shut, and they had no way of knowing what was happening outside. Many of the eyes and ears sent to gather information were captured. A few sharp-witted ones ran back, and what they reported was simple: Zhao's Camp had already sealed off every key water and land route in Qingjiangpu. No one was allowed in or out for the night. That in itself was no great matter — traveling by land or water at night was inconvenient to begin with; carters and boatmen needed rest too. If someone insisted on leaving at such an hour, that would truly be suspicious.

Beyond the terror and suspicion, that night also made every faction in Qingjiangpu realize one thing: Zhao's Camp truly held Qingjiangpu in an iron grip. The fire and the assassination attempt had both erupted without warning, yet the moment they did, Zhao's Camp immediately sealed off Qingjiangpu. Such speed of mobilization left people speechless. It was best to put away those tangled, messy schemes in their hearts — Qingjiangpu now bore the surname Zhao. The wealthy merchants and gentry who thought this certainly never imagined that that very night, Zhao Jin was still steeling his resolve to implement the baojia mutual responsibility system, because without it, he could not completely control Xuzhou and Qingjiangpu. The contrast between the two sides' thinking was rather laughable.

After daybreak, everyone connected to the Qingjiang Grand Market either sent men or went in person. That place was their greatest source of wealth. Hearing it had nearly caught fire the night before, they were not merely anxious — they were utterly sick with worry and would not rest easy until they saw with their own eyes that all was well. Everyone resolved to assign more men to stay on guard in the future, to keep water and sand fully stocked, and to make several extra patrols. One moment of carelessness and someone could set a fire. And if the Grand Market did not open today, who knew how much they would lose...

Yet when they arrived, they found nothing different from before. Even the streets had been swept perfectly clean, with no trace of fire or slaughter visible. But compared to the day before, there were many more tough, fierce-looking men with cold, stern expressions, walking in groups of three or five on patrol. The able-bodied men who normally stood guard at the market were now going door to door, checking every household's water vats and sand buckets, warning everyone to guard against fire. There was no need for Zhao's Camp to say anything more now — with their own money at stake, no one dared be lax. The entire market presented a state of outward calm and inner tension. Yet everyone was still wondering: who did it? At this moment, it was not only Zhao's Camp that was furious — everyone connected to the Grand Market was enraged, cursing the bastard who tried to cut off their road to wealth. Whoever it was, once found, they would make him pay dearly. Some even went directly to call on Zhao Jin, offering to put up reward money for the culprit's capture. A high bounty posted, they said, would surely catch the man pulling the strings behind the scenes.

They did as they said, but everyone also understood that catching the mastermind behind it would be very difficult. Who knew where he had fled to...

Come daytime, in a bustling place like Qingjiangpu, news traveled extremely fast. By morning, word spread that the assassins who tried to kill Zhao Jin were from the Incense-Smelling Sect. But immediately, another piece of news followed: several major bosses in the canal transport trade had sent their sons and nephews to Zhao Jin to explain that this matter had absolutely nothing to do with their families. Daring to send their own sons over was itself a gesture of innocence. Moreover, each family said they would not go out these days and invited Master Jin to investigate them as he pleased. As this news circulated, some clever minds began to speculate. They guessed that some power was posing as the Incense-Smelling Sect, sending death warriors to frame another party and muddy the waters. And that man had shouted about slaying demons — could it be the monks of Cloud Mountain Temple? Back then, Master Jin had done something utterly ruthless there...

Amid all the speculation and guesswork, everyone assumed the mastermind would not be caught so quickly. But no one expected that before nightfall, the true culprit had already been found. And this true culprit was none other than a renowned and wealthy merchant of Qingjiangpu — the rice merchant from Wuhu, Geng Mancang. He had already been seized.

Grain from the fertile regions of South Zhili, Zhejiang, Huguang, and Jiangxi converged onto the canal transport network by water, then was sold throughout the realm via the Grand Canal and its branching waterways and roads. Before gathering at the Grand Canal, there were four key nodes — the Four Great Rice Markets of the realm: Wuhu, Wuxi, Shashi, and Jiujiang. Aside from the collection of tribute grain, eighty percent of the realm's rice trade was decided at these four places. But in the final analysis, the grain from these four markets still had to converge here at Qingjiangpu.

This Geng Mancang was the representative figure of the Wuhu rice merchants in Qingjiangpu. He controlled one-third of Qingjiangpu's grain and rice, along with all the related businesses. A plutocrat of this stature ranked among the top ten of Qingjiangpu's merchant princes. Behind a man like this stood at least one Grand Coordinator, and his connections at court would be no lower than the third rank. He was a true titan of commerce. Having reached such heights of wealth, he naturally had a place in the Qingjiang Grand Market — more than one, in fact. Relying on the market's distribution network, every one of Geng Mancang's businesses was thriving, earning him substantially more than in previous years.

That said, this Geng Mancang was also one of the wealthy merchants who had proposed opening a second Grand Market. The moment many learned he was the mastermind behind the attack, they immediately recalled this connection and could more or less guess the whole story.

Opening a new Grand Market, given Qingjiangpu's current situation, would naturally amass mountains of gold and seas of silver. In truth, everyone found it somewhat puzzling — the world was clearly in decline, yet Qingjiangpu, Yangzhou, and several places in Jiangnan were growing ever more prosperous. But that aside, Zhao Jin's refusal to let Geng Mancang open a new market was tantamount to cutting off his road to wealth. Cutting off a man's road to wealth is like killing his parents — that is indeed a blood feud. No wonder Geng Mancang resorted to such methods to strike at Zhao Jin. What everyone could not fathom, however, was that Geng Mancang actually dared make a move against Zhao Jin. Did he not know the man was a god of slaughter?

And for Geng Mancang to have amassed his current fortune, he could not be a fool. Having done such a deed, did he not know to flee early? No matter how great Master Jin's abilities, he could hardly cross the river to Wuhu in Taiping Prefecture to arrest him. Yet the man ended up captured. This did not look like a desperate fight over a severed road to wealth — it looked more like a man courting death...

"... The courtyard where they burned incense and preached scriptures was already empty. But a place like that — the people who burn incense and follow the faith are bound to be locals from nearby. We found a local street tough, and very quickly he located the believers. Following the trail, we caught the scripture preacher. They knew nothing of assassins or arson, but we did get out of them that the house was provided by a cousin of one of Geng Mancang's stewards..." Liu Yong looked utterly exhausted, yet he was still forcing himself to stay alert as he recounted the whole story. Still, anyone could see the relief written on his face.

In a place like Qingjiangpu, where every inch of land was worth its weight in gold, being willing to give up a courtyard house for burning incense and chanting scriptures rather than collecting rent was already suspicious in itself. Nor was it something an ordinary commoner could casually provide. Holding daily gatherings without attracting the attention of the underworld's various elements meant there had to be a powerful backer propping it up — otherwise it could never have been sustained. A steward's cousin was already several layers removed, but everyone knew perfectly well where the root lay: it was none other than Geng Mancang.

Though Geng Mancang rode high in Qingjiangpu, with everyone from the Vice Director of the Ministry of Revenue to the Prefect of Huai'an obliged to greet him with polite smiles, a Zhao's Camp on the warpath cared nothing for any of that. The cavalry troop rode straight for his great mansion. When they reached the gates, they did not even bother to call for them to be opened. Those with the best skills simply used the horses' backs as springboards and vaulted over the wall. Geng Mancang's compound also kept a number of reasonably skilled bodyguards. At first, they tried to raise the alarm and resist, but when they saw the murderous intent, the long blades and great axes, and — once the gates were flung open — the bows and long spears, they instantly scattered like birds and beasts. But Geng Mancang was not caught there.

However, the ferocious warriors of Zhao's Camp had already scared the souls out of everyone in the Geng household, high and low. Without waiting for torture, they scrambled over each other to report: Geng Mancang had not returned for several days, but he had not left Qingjiangpu either. Everyone knew where he was — he had gone to his outer residence, a house near the Yellow River, where he kept a "Yangzhou slim horse" he had purchased at great expense.

It took a little under half a shichen to ride from the Grand Market to the Geng residence. From the Geng residence to that outer house, however, it took the better part of a shichen. Outer residences, as a rule, were placed in secluded, scenic spots. With Qingjiangpu bustling everywhere, the only place to find seclusion was outside town. Zhao's Camp's cavalry had set out to seize the culprit mere moments after the assassination attempt on Zhao Jin. Even if Geng Mancang had stationed men at the Grand Market to keep watch and act as lookouts, the news could not possibly have reached him by then. Zhao's Camp had spotted no one leaving the vicinity on a fast horse — that would have drawn far too much attention anyway.

By the time Zhao's Camp's cavalry arrived, it was deep in the night, and all around was still. Zhao's Camp's men surrounded that outer residence layer upon layer. With a brief arrangement from Liu Yong, several squads charged in from every direction. This outer residence did have three of Geng Mancang's trusted bodyguards, men who were normally well-fed with silver and were willing to fight to the death at a moment like this. One was impaled by a long spear, one was pinned through the forehead by an arrow, and one had half his shoulder cleaved off by a blade. The house was filled with women crying and screaming, some so terrified they lost control of their bowels. Geng Mancang was dragged out from under his bedcovers.

"... This Geng Mancang had made his own preparations. Outside that residence were two boats, both moored with sails hoisted, ready to cast off and leave at a moment's notice..."

Liu Yong was giving his account inside the hall. Zhao Jin sat in the seat of honor, with Wang Zhaojing and Shi Manqiang seated to either side. Yu Zhiyuan sat at the lower end. All of them were staring coldly at Geng Mancang, who knelt in the center of the hall. Normally, Yu Zhiyuan would not have been present on such an occasion, but this Second Young Master Yu was dead set on binding himself to Zhao's Camp's fate, so they no longer bothered to bar him.

At the mention of a plutocrat or titan of commerce, everyone instinctively pictures a potbellied, greasy-faced fat man. In Qingjiangpu, most men of that ilk indeed fit the description. But Geng Mancang was an exception. He was in his early forties, of moderate build, his beard and hair meticulously groomed. Even though he had been dragged out of bed and now wore only his underclothes, he did not look particularly wretched. Rather, he resembled a refined scion of a noble house out on a romantic escapade. The ashen, deathly pallor on his face, of course, was unavoidable.

As Liu Yong's account continued, everyone clicked their tongues in astonishment. The several shops in the Grand Market where the fires had been set — all of them turned out to be Geng Mancang's own properties. A smile gradually spread across Zhao Jin's face, but it was a cold one.

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