Chapter 690: Building Momentum

Ma Chonghao was not afraid Zhao Jin would flee, because he knew Zhao Jin would not. The Zhao Camp's foundation and situation were right there in Xuzhou. After years of fighting and killing, subduing all directions, they had made countless enemies. If they stayed, they still had that foundation to rely on; if they fled, they would die without a burial place.

Moreover, Ma Chonghao was quite confident Zhao Jin would not leave. Everyone has experienced youthful arrogance, and Zhao Jin was at that age. Having built such a vast enterprise at so young an age, he surely felt he had the ability to handle this.

"... No matter how heaven-defying your courage, when it comes to the crime of plotting rebellion, you'll still shrink back. Look at how he does things—he needs a proper name for everything. He puts on a sanctimonious act, calling himself a Bao Zheng, getting his father and his friend's father a Shou Bei title. He talks about household retainers, about local militia—all of it just to avoid breaking the king's law. In this situation, the moment it's laid bare, they'll definitely fall into chaos first..."

"... Now we don't have to worry about any civil officials obstructing us. This Zhao Jin has lost his mind—he actually blocked the Liao stipend and even made the surrounding areas refuse to pay it too. That's blocking how many people's fortunes? Once we go there, how many people will be happy to watch? Afterward, as long as we share the spoils and grease the right palms, there won't be any future trouble..."

"... No need to worry about any censors from the Chief Surveillance Bureau. That Wang Youshan has long been a cold stove. From his backers to his friends, they've all died or fallen. He can't even take care of himself—how could he reach as far as Xuzhou? When the time comes, we'll use the Xuzhou affair to topple him along with it..."

Ma Chonghao issued orders one after another, explaining each as he went. He was making his stance perfectly clear: I am about to move against Xuzhou.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard agents, who had been idle for many years, had been drilled by Ma Chonghao for the past few. This time they moved with considerable efficiency. Large numbers of agents went to Yangzhou, to Qingjiangpu, and some even traveled as far as Fengyang's Zhongdu. Everywhere they went, they swaggered about investigating cases. Their presence there wasn't really about investigating anything—they wore their flying-fish robes, carried their Embroidered Spring sabers, and whenever they met someone, they'd raise their waist tokens for all to see. Afraid no one around could hear, they'd shout at the top of their lungs that they were investigating Zhao Jin of Xuzhou for plotting rebellion.

The agents' only purpose in making such a racket was to let everyone know: the Embroidered Uniform Guard was investigating the major case of Zhao Jin's rebellion.

By the custom of Yangzhou and Qingjiangpu, once the Lantern Festival passed, even though it was still within the first month, the New Year was already over. In Qingjiangpu, merchants had to prepare for the year's start, while in Yangzhou, the bulk of the Huai salt business was decided in spring. By the second month, while the lingering festive mood of the New Year still hung over other places, here they were already bustling with furious activity.

Yet in the early spring of the forty-eighth year of Wanli, Qingjiangpu and Yangzhou—or rather, the entire Jiangbei region of South Zhili, and one might even count Nanjing—besides the busyness, there was an added, inexplicable restlessness, a disquieting, murderous tension.

The Son of Heaven, the imperial court, righteous cause, rebellion—these four terms combined were enough to intimidate the majority. Under these terms, even the fearsome name of the Zhao Camp lost its power.

The man the Nanjing Embroidered Uniform Guard sent to Qingjiangpu was an Assistant Commander, Zhang Haoliang. Just past thirty, he had not yet let the lap of luxury ruin his body or his ambition. He still had the drive to climb higher and could be considered capable of handling assignments. He was somewhat close to Ma Chonghao, so he was dispatched here this time.

When this Assistant Commander and his party arrived in Qingjiangpu, they discovered that the people here did not recognize the Embroidered Uniform Guard's authority at all—they were even quite cold. This infuriated them. A little inquiry revealed the reason: everyone only acknowledged the Zhao Camp. Even to seek justice, people would go to places like the Zhao Family Martial Hall, the Cloud Mountain Martial Hall, or the Cloud Mountain Firm.

Once Assistant Commander Zhang Haoliang made his purpose clear and began investigating and handling the case, the situation immediately changed.

Everyone had seen what the Zhao Camp had been doing all along and knew they were no virtuous souls. Anyone with a bit of attention to detail could spot signs of disloyalty and clues of rebellion in their actions. It was just that no one had spoken up. Because although the Zhao Camp acted brazenly, they still found a plausible pretext for themselves. At the same time, they used force and various other means to suppress everyone, so that people either dared not or were unwilling to speak out. The Zhao Camp's deeds were separated from open rebellion by only a sheet of paper, yet no one had ever poked through it.

Now that the Nanjing Embroidered Uniform Guard had arrived, that sheet of paper had been poked through, and this silence could no longer be maintained.

Qingjiangpu was not like Xuzhou. The Zhao Camp's control here was only on the level of the rivers-and-lakes underworld, though they had a major stake in the business. But this was not Zhao Jin's territory. Whether merchants or common residents, everyone knew this was land belonging to the Great Ming—Qingjiangpu, under the jurisdiction of Shanyang County, Huai'an Prefecture. Here, there were not only the prefectural and county yamens, but also the branch office of the Ministry of Revenue, the Grand Coordinator's sub-office, and various offices for the grain transport administration. Qingjiangpu was the sovereign soil of the Great Ming.

The moment they realized that the ones they had feared were actually rebels—rebels explicitly identified by the Embroidered Uniform Guard agents—everyone's mindset immediately shifted.

As the Embroidered Uniform Guard men had expected, not a single person came to their door during the day. It was only after dark that things got lively. And people absolutely did not come in groups; each came alone.

The men on watch outside reported that some people had come cautiously to peer around, then left when they saw no outsiders keeping watch. Only after nightfall did a few come, and these people startled each other—when a new arrival saw someone who'd come earlier, they'd turn and flee, only stopping when the agents called out and shouted for them to halt.

Everyone understood the crux of it: they were simply afraid the Zhao Camp had people watching here. No one had expected the Zhao Camp's fearsome prestige to reach such a level even here.

"But it doesn't matter. As long as someone comes forward to accuse them, a ramshackle outfit like the Zhao Camp will scatter like monkeys when the tree falls. No one will fear them anymore!" Assistant Commander Zhang Haoliang said with great confidence.

The first person to come entered—through the back door, naturally—and immediately kowtowed, crying out, "Great Magistrate, the Zhao Camp is drenched in blood debts! In Qingjiangpu alone, they have several hundred lives on their hands!"

"Several hundred lives?" Hearing that number, the questioning Embroidered Uniform Guard agent was shocked and alarmed.

Although one or two deaths, even ten or several dozen, were no great matter, a blood debt of several hundred lives in a major thoroughfare and city like Qingjiangpu—if it existed, it would inevitably cause a sensation everywhere. The court and the authorities could not possibly ignore it. How was it only coming to light now?

However, "Commissioner Ma" had given very clear instructions: no hearsay; all evidence of crimes must be verified. That Zhao Jin was as slippery as an eel. If their side made even the slightest misstep, he might slip away, and then it would be total defeat. So they absolutely must not fabricate or falsify anything.

"... Planting evidence and such tricks are not for dealing with a local hegemon like this. Just investigate. Zhao Jin has run rampant across South Zhili for so many years—the truth alone is enough to exterminate his entire clan..." Ma Chonghao's instructions to every team were crystal clear.

"What exactly are these blood debts? List them one by one." The Embroidered Uniform Guard's name was illustrious, but their actual procedures were not all that different from a yamen hearing a case.

"Great Magistrate, when Zhao Jin first came to Qingjiangpu, he wantonly extorted merchants everywhere. The merchants, unable to bear the harassment and finding no recourse with the authorities, had to bring their own men and local militiamen, righteous and eager to help, to fight Zhao Jin's henchmen. No one expected Zhao Jin would muster thousands of bandits and pirates and launch a full-scale assault. That day, blood flowed like a river. Near the main cart depot, over six hundred people died, and nearly a thousand more vanished without a trace. There are witnesses and material evidence for all of this." The man kneeling on the ground was middle-aged, with a shifty, roguish look, but as he spoke, tears streamed down his face with what seemed genuine emotion.

The clerk had been recording smoothly, but upon hearing "over six hundred dead, nearly a thousand missing," his hand involuntarily trembled. He turned to glance at Assistant Commander Zhang.

Assistant Commander Zhang's expression was also grim. He merely put on a show of authority, slapped the table, and said sternly, "Do not exaggerate. Speak the truth. I have come to Qingjiangpu this time to let no rebel escape, but also to wrong no innocent man."

"Great Magistrate, every word this lowly one speaks is true! I haven't finished. Afterward, Zhao Jin's actions grew even more brazen. He led his household retainers and militia through the streets, seizing people and casually pinning charges on them to kill or arrest. Entire families were exiled to the Barren Grass Flats to do hard labor, never to return for a lifetime. When the heroes of the Martial Might Martial Hall tried to intervene in the name of justice, their place was shot with fire arrows at night, and then came a great slaughter—another hundred lives."

The clerk's recording brush stopped again. This time, the Embroidered Uniform Guard had brought their own people; this clerk was also from the Nanjing Embroidered Uniform Guard. Having seen and heard more than most, he sensed something was off.

Assistant Commander Zhang Haoliang cursed under his breath. The attendants nearby all heard it clearly: what the man said was, "When has our Embroidered Guard ever been able to act so freely?" Everyone simply pretended not to hear.

After saying that, Zhang Haoliang frowned and said sternly, "These deaths and injuries you speak of—are there corpses? Are there wounded? Are the witness testimonies and material evidence reliable?"

The middle-aged man making the report immediately began to stammer, saying, "The corpses were all burned, and the crippled were all dragged off to the Barren Grass Flats. No witnesses or material evidence can be found now. Unless you great magistrates take action, no one dares to come forward."

"So there's no evidence at all!" Assistant Commander Zhang said bitterly, slamming the table heavily.

A centurion at the side stared at the middle-aged man for a moment, then said in a low voice, "Leave for now. If you have any reliable evidence, come report again. You won't be shortchanged for your trouble. But if you've been lying, have you heard the saying 'the official law is like a furnace'?"

The middle-aged man kowtowed heavily on the ground and said with the utmost sincerity, "Every word this lowly one speaks is true. If there is a single falsehood, may heaven strike me with thunder and let me die a wretched death!"

That was a heavy oath. The Embroidered Uniform Guard men sent here could not be bothered to deal with him further and had him sent out directly. As soon as the middle-aged man left, the centurion's expression turned grim. And it wasn't just him—everyone's expression was grim.

The clerk flung his brush down in disgust and grumbled, "I knew that cripple Ma was up to no good. Thought coming to Qingjiangpu would mean some good times for a while. Never expected we'd end up next to a man-eating tiger."

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