Chapter 727: Using Both Kindness and Severity

"Brother Zhao, keeping a low profile is all well and good, but you've already clashed with this Ma Chonghao. I'm afraid you can't remain as unassuming as before!"

"Why not? Ma Chonghao had no imperial decree, no official dispatch, not even a verbal order from a superior. He schemed after a gentry family's property and acted recklessly. No one fought—he simply came and then left. Did I do anything here?"

"But reviewing the strong troops and frightening off several thousand elite cavalry—isn't that..."

"Is there a single word or scrap of paper from the authorities saying I frightened them off? Is there an imperial decree? Ma Chonghao leading his forces north—officially, it's as if it never happened. As long as I don't make a big show of it myself, who's going to smear their own name and bring trouble on themselves?"

By the end, Yu Zhiyuan was truly speechless and could only smile wryly. "Brother, have you really never been an official? This skill at bureaucratic posturing and hair-splitting quibbles surpasses any official I've ever seen."

"I'm twenty this year, and Young Master Yu is twenty-three or twenty-four? What's the rush? Zhao Camp doesn't fear trouble, but there's no need to make enemies of the whole world either. Let's take it slowly!" Zhao Jin replied in a tone wise beyond his years.

Yu Zhiyuan was lost in thought when household servants walked in. The merchants and various guests who had come for the banquet had no idea what was happening. The servants politely helped move tables and chairs, clearing a space beneath the awning outside the main hall.

"Treacherous fiends and demonic monsters—every man has the right to slay them. Bring the people forward!" Zhao Jin's tone was utterly indifferent. Everyone was puzzled, and the scene stirred with unease; not everyone heard his words.

Once the space was cleared, regardless of whether anyone understood, the servants withdrew. Then, the sounds of wailing, shouting, and cursing drew near. Two servants dragged one person, and over thirty people were brought forward.

"... Master Jin, spare my life..." This was the most common plea.

"... Zhao Jin, you monster, you'll be struck down by heaven and split by lightning! The Buddha will never let you go..." Occasional shouts like this rang out.

But all these voices were extremely weak and feeble. A servant beside Zhao Jin raised an arm and waved, and the servants holding the prisoners immediately gagged those crying and shouting tightly.

"This is my Xuzhou. Without my permission, no one can run wild here. This is what happens." Zhao Jin declared loudly. After speaking, he hurled the wine bowl in his hand to the ground, where it shattered instantly.

The hall had fallen utterly silent. The shattering of the wine bowl was the command. The servants had already drawn their blades and struck. One chop after another, heads rolled everywhere across the ground, and blood gushed from severed necks. The awning and the main hall, which moments ago had been thick with the aroma of wine and meat, were instantly filled with the stench of blood.

Once these thirty-odd people were killed, another thirty-odd were dragged up. This time, their mouths were already gagged. The servants' movements were crisp and efficient. After beheading them, they directly dragged the corpses away. This was repeated three times before it finally stopped.

Silence reigned. Many of the guests seated around the open space had their mouths hanging wide open, unaware that the hems of their robes were stained with spattered blood. Their faces even remained quite normal.

After a bizarrely quiet moment, someone suddenly screamed. Someone else covered their mouth, desperately trying not to vomit. Others scrambled to their feet to retreat, but their legs went weak as they stood, and they collapsed directly to their knees.

The awning area instantly descended into chaos. In the main hall, many also rose in alarm. How had the smashing of a single wine bowl turned into rivers of blood? That was over a hundred lives!

By now, few people remained composed. Every face was deathly pale, every body trembling. Many had simply shut their eyes. Yu Zhiyuan, seated at Zhao Jin's table, was some distance from the execution site, yet his face was also pale—though he still managed to maintain his composure.

The servants paid no mind to the panic in the crowd. They simply brought in lime and other materials on their own, burying the bloodstains with lime, then moved the displaced tables and chairs back to their original positions. Where bowls and plates had been knocked over in the earlier panic, the servants replaced them with new ones.

After tidying up for a while, even the thick stench of blood was largely dispersed by the wind. The ground bore no more traces of blood, looking as if nothing had ever happened.

But the slaughter moments before was still vivid in their minds. Thinking that the very spot where they sat had just been awash with blood, that severed heads might even have rolled past—how could anyone still have the heart to eat or drink? They could not even sit steadily, feeling only terror, wishing they could leave at once. Yet seeing the Zhao Camp servants standing calmly not far away, no one dared to move recklessly.

"Those who are not friends of Zhao Jin are enemies of Zhao Jin. From this day forward, anyone who tries to play both sides and seek advantage through trickery—this will be their fate." Zhao Jin declared loudly. As during the troop review, the servants relayed his words down the line, and many more guests accidentally knocked over the cups and dishes before them.

Zhao Jin sat down after speaking. His companions and trusted aides all nodded in agreement. Ruhui, in particular, praised him, saying, "Using both kindness and severity—that is the way to govern subordinates. Master, you were far too merciful to them before."

Yu Zhiyuan, seated at the lower end, looked increasingly grim. At first, he had not seen clearly and only knew what had happened. Just hearing it had already shaken him. Then, as the guests in the main hall and under the awning trembled, and the thick stench of blood drifted in from outside, Yu Zhiyuan became ever more aware of what had just occurred.

The Yu family of Songjiang ran a seagoing junk trade and inevitably dealt with sea lords and pirates. A wealthy merchant house like theirs, for all its apparent refinement, had seen its share of bloody killings. But with Yu Zhiyuan's experience, how could he have ever witnessed over a hundred heads falling in broad daylight? The more he thought about it, the more sickened he felt.

"Brother Yu, you seem unwell. Perhaps you should go and rest for a while," Wang Zhaojing inquired with feigned concern. Ruhui and Zhou Xuezhi exchanged a glance and both looked away. Anyone observant could see that although Wang Zhaojing and Yu Zhiyuan had very similar backgrounds and experiences, there was a clear sense of mutual repulsion between them.

Yu Zhiyuan merely replied with a smile, making no attempt to hide his discomfort and fear. "I'm fine. I can hold out. It's my first time witnessing such a scene—I was frightened."

Hearing this, Zhao Jin set down the teacup he had just lifted and said coolly, "If the canal transport were cut off and a full-scale upheaval erupted, the dead would number a hundred or a thousand times more than this. By then, from Xuzhou to Huai'an Prefecture, to the entire Southern Metropolitan Region, even the whole realm—everyone would blame me. Blame me for recklessly taking up arms, and lay the debt of all those countless lives on Zhao Camp, on me."

He spoke calmly, but upon hearing these words, Yu Zhiyuan was stunned, then fell silent.

Liu Yong, unwilling to continue this topic, simply said with a laugh, "This time, people from all corners thought you were going to lose, Brother. That bunch of lunatics from the Smelling Incense Sect even placed heavy bets. They sent a huge number of their core incense heads and scripture preachers. Most of them died in the manhunts everywhere, and the rest had their heads chopped off today. After this, no matter how you look at it, the Smelling Incense Sect has been badly crippled."

"Indeed. Though we don't know exactly how large that sect of believers really is, if they could still muster manpower on this scale, the realm would already be theirs," Ji Xiang chimed in.

Everyone nodded. The Smelling Incense Sect might have millions or tens of millions of followers, but the vast majority were just common folk who burned incense and offered mutual aid in name only. The ones who could truly be mobilized and directed by the sect in ordinary times were these core members. For such people to mature required not only devout faith but also training and tempering. They were seeds—once placed somewhere, they could immediately set up an altar, burn incense, and recruit believers. Such precious assets were lost one by one, never to return. To cultivate them anew would take years, even a decade, and require the sect to invest manpower and money.

And this time, when Ma Chonghao led his forces north to Xuzhou, everyone had thought Zhao Jin's downfall was imminent. Zhao Camp was pulling back everywhere, abandoning the territory it controlled. The Smelling Incense Sect, which had always been squeezed out, also placed heavy bets, sending in large numbers of personnel, ready to swallow up this territory they had long coveted. Then, in a single day, the tables turned. Those local powers that had turned a blind eye to them, or even secretly colluded, immediately turned hostile. Even when the sect members fled the territory, they were pursued relentlessly. The losses were truly catastrophic.

Zhao Jin and his companions had always been extremely wary of the Smelling Incense Sect, because the sect's methods were bizarre and completely unlike the way officials and local powers operated. Zhao Camp did not fear a direct clash of real blades and spears, but these unpredictable schemes and assassinations gave them endless headaches. Those around Zhao Jin worried that, despite all their precautions, a single slip might let these Smelling Incense Sect fiends slip through a crack.

"Don't try to guess the Smelling Incense Sect's actions by ordinary rules. That bunch of lunatics pulls off far too many unexpected things," Zhao Jin remarked with a shake of his head.

"Rest assured, Brother. I and the other brothers here will not slacken. We will keep a tight watch over our territory," Liu Yong said solemnly.

The atmosphere of the banquet had already turned rather eerie. Inside the main hall and beneath the awning, many people sat dumbstruck. Others sat there with eyes closed, trembling. No one had the heart to pay attention to the sumptuous feast before them. Yet some were boisterous and rowdy, already three rounds into the wine and in high spirits, engaged in noisy drinking games. Still others were utterly unruffled, no different from attending any ordinary banquet.

The atmosphere at Zhao Jin's table was the most relaxed. Everyone chatted and laughed about family matters and trivial affairs. The most frequently asked questions were about Zhao Jin's newborn son, Zhao Long. They also discussed the marriage prospects of Chen Sheng, Shi Manqiang, Ji Xiang, and Dong Bingfeng. Wang Zhaojing's situation was different—everyone knew he intended to make his own arrangements. Liu Yong and Lei Cai, meanwhile, had clearly stated they would not consider starting families for the next few years.

By now, everyone had a fairly clear idea of what kind of families to seek for marriage alliances. Clerk Li and Clerk Liu both had daughters. Sun Jia also had a daughter. Among the guard battalions, there were quite a few marriageable girls in the households of chiliarchs and commandants. These people were all tightly bound to Zhao Camp, already sharing in its glory and its ruin.

"Look at these people. In ordinary times, we gave them profits, gave them all sorts of benefits. How many felt any gratitude? They all took it for granted, all thought we hadn't given enough, and even colluded with outsiders to scheme after our family property. But now, with a blade at their necks, they naturally kneel. They take that just as much for granted. They won't rage about paying the transit tax; instead, they'll feel grateful that we spared their lives." Amid the idle chatter, Zhao Jin spoke these words. Hearing this, everyone stopped their conversations, turned to look at the guests in their varied states, and fell silent.

"From now on, whatever we do, it won't be as bumpy and halting as before."

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