Chapter 824: Using the Carts This Way

These words only fanned the crowd's fury further. At that very moment, no one knew how many voices roared in unison: "Everyone, over there—tear it down!"

The sudden eruption of such a huge commotion even startled the oxen and horses on the bank by the river blockade. A few neighs could be heard, and the drivers could be seen struggling to control them in a fluster. This frantic scrambling only put this side more at ease. They had already reached this position—the Xuzhou men were clearly unprepared. This matter was as good as done.

"Fellow townsmen, fellow townsmen!" someone shouted at the top of their lungs. Liu Xiaoke and his group, as previously instructed, struck gongs in response. The next step was to rouse everyone to charge forward and start wrecking things.

But just then, the carts parked over there began to move as well. The scattered carts that could be seen all fled into the distance. Everyone's hearts surged with excitement; some even laughed out loud, their courage swelling. That gang of carters had been scared off.

Yet the next moment, the laughter stopped abruptly, and the gong-beating grew sporadic. The carts that had fled merely circled around to the rear of the column, revealing the true formation.

The carts by the riverbank were not scattered at all but arrayed in orderly ranks. The horses were facing straight toward the great crowd of Qingjiangpu commoners gathered for the ritual. From a distance, men could be seen standing on the carts. What was going on? Everyone was somewhat baffled, but a chill had already begun to rise in their hearts. Something was wrong.

"They're scared! Tear down this river-blocking dam, and twenty taels of ready silver are yours! Vent this foul anger—charge, everyone!" Liu Xiaoke recognized the men doing the shouting now. They were exactly those bloodstained killers. With them stirring things up, the courage of the city's rats and foxes swelled too. They beat gongs and yelled, whipping up a tremendous din. Behind them, those scholars also got into character, loudly proclaiming, "These Xuzhou men are engaged in rebellion! Kill them, and the yamen won't even convict you—you might even get a reward! They don't dare make a move, they don't—"

No one knew who had shouted up to that word "don't" when sharp whistles rang out one after another from the other side. Then came shouts and the crack of whips. Row after row of carts began to advance.

What were they doing? Everyone sensed danger, yet their minds remained clouded. They watched as the carts ran faster and faster, drawing nearer and nearer. The riverbanks, docks, and open ground on either side of the canal were not very wide. Qingjiangpu was prosperous, to be sure, but the space could only fit three carts abreast. And so, as the carts ran on, they formed into columns of three carts at the head.

As the distance closed, the men on the carts became visible. They were bound around the waist by several ropes, secured to the carts. In their hands they held thick bamboo poles, and the draft horses were all blindfolded.

What were they doing? With so many people here, did they really mean to ram the carts in? Did they not know what a terrible disaster that would cause? If these horse-carts charged in, with this many people, there would surely be shoving and trampling, then trampling by hooves, crushing by wheels—who knew how many would die. So many commoners of Qingjiangpu—did they truly dare?

Hearing the pounding of hooves and the grinding of axles, those at the front were already panicking. Even those killers who had seen blood were the same. They did not fear a life-or-death brawl in single combat, but before them now were six horses and three great carts, and the draft horses had all been blindfolded with black cloth. It was said that horses would swerve to avoid living creatures. Blindfolding them, presumably, was to keep the beasts from dodging...

"Aaaah—!" Those at the very front of the crowd could no longer suppress their terror and let out piercing screams. The rear was stirring too, but with so many people in the throng, even turning to flee was too slow. Some simply jumped straight into the canal. The weather wasn't cold anyway, and the water wasn't deep.

Those horse-drawn carts truly rammed straight into the crowd!

No matter how tightly the people at the front were packed, they could not withstand the impact of the carts. The drivers were ruthless as well, making no effort to control the horses, letting them run wild.

Horses weighing several hundred catties, even over a thousand, slammed into people weighing just over a hundred. And the horses were galloping while the people had no time to run.

Thud, thud, thud—muffled sounds of collision rang out. The people at the very front were sent flying, though not very far. Bodies crashed into bodies, and a great swath had already collapsed.

Screams of terror, shrieks of agony, and wails erupted in an instant. Some fell to the ground, and before they could even scramble up, the charging carts did not slow in the slightest. The drivers, instead, urged the horses on with desperate shouts. Hooves trampled, wheels crushed—they barreled through without a care.

The next moment, the shrieks and screams grew louder, but the miserable howls and cries of pain lessened. The reason was simple: trampled by hooves, crushed under iron-bound wooden wheels, few were left who could still cry out.

After the carts plowed into the crowd, those desperadoes mingled among the people were all scattered and thrown into chaos. Precisely because they had been standing near the front, they themselves were knocked to the ground, never to rise again.

The drivers' faces were ashen. The scene before them made their own hearts quail, yet they showed not a trace of mercy or hesitation. Their whips lashed down heavily on the draft horses, driving the carts even faster through the crowd.

Gradually, the three carts could no longer stay abreast. The carts were now deep within the crowd. At this moment, the sturdy men standing on the carts came into play. They swung the thick bamboo poles in their hands, lashing down viciously into the crowd. Never mind the force of the pole itself—each swing carried the momentum of the charging cart. A single blow was enough to knock a man to the ground.

Some of those desperadoes and those with martial skill dodged the collision and trampling of horses and carts, seeking a chance to clamber aboard. But once they clearly saw the two men standing secured by ropes on the cart, they immediately dared not move. One man swung a bamboo pole, lashing out in all directions without pause, while the other held a podao saber, vigilantly scanning his surroundings. Whoever dared climb up would surely be hacked down!

Over a dozen great carts charged into the crowd just like that, driving the human tide backward in a churning wave. By this stage, the direct collision and crushing by the carts themselves did relatively little harm; it was the crowd's own shoving and trampling that was most deadly.

Now every person cursed their parents for giving them too few legs, yet in this scene, even a few extra legs would not have let them escape. Everyone was jammed together on the road. Those at the edges either jumped into the river or scrambled over walls into side paths, but those in the middle had nowhere to flee for the moment. Even knowing they had to dodge, they were swept along by the crowd, stumbling and staggering, helpless against their own momentum.

No one knew how many would die in this wave. The riverbank and the water were already full of people who had jumped in, yet the number on the road did not diminish in the slightest.

Liu Xiaoke, after all, still possessed some of the skills picked up from the streets. The moment he saw the carts charging, he threw down his brass gong, turned, and fled, paying no heed to anyone else. Only now did Liu Xiaoke realize how deluded he had been. Zhao's Camp had not been unprepared at all—they had been arrayed in strict readiness. How could Zhao's Camp possibly care about numbers? No matter how many people there were, they would still strike with ruthless force. Their complete inaction all this time had probably been just to wait for everyone to show themselves!

Not only had he been played for a fool, but those several wealthy merchant houses had likely lost their minds as well, with no idea how they would be retaliated against afterward. The thought flashed through Liu Xiaoke's mind, but right now, saving his own skin was paramount—how could he care about so much else? Just moments ago, Liu Xiaoke had spotted that friend of his, carelessly fallen to the ground, trampled over by the crowd just like that, never having gotten up, fate unknown. Liu Xiaoke could not spare him a thought.

He had turned and fled earlier, and though he had gained a head start over others, he had forgotten to head for the roadside. Now he could not struggle free. Climbing walls or ducking into alleys was impossible, and jumping into the river was impossible too. Liu Xiaoke was knocked reeling by the crowd. Growing desperate, he flailed and struck out wildly, fighting with all his might to edge toward the canal bank.

But at this critical juncture, while the men of the rivers and lakes and the marketplace ran wild, those ordinary commoners were just as dangerous. Everyone was tearing and clawing, all trying to push aside or block the people next to them so they could escape.

Liu Xiaoke struck several people and forced his way to the canal bank by sheer momentum. He could already see the water's surface. Just as he breathed a sigh of relief, someone behind him—he had no idea who—gave him a hard shove. He stumbled. Normally, he could have steadied himself, but who could have expected another collision right after? His whole body sprawled onto the ground. Once down, getting up was nearly impossible. Several heavy footsteps stamped down on his back. Liu Xiaoke struggled desperately to turn his head, and then he heard the sound of hooves and grinding axles drawing near—and they rolled right over him.

The crowd surged backward, quickly returning to the open ground where the ritual had been held. Here, the space was wide, and those retreating to this spot could at last break into a run. But the pursuing carts could also charge in with even more vehicles. Some tried to climb onto the carts, only to be hacked straight down by podao sabers. Blood splattered, throwing the people into even greater panic.

In the private room of Windward Tower facing the canal, the several sons of wealthy families and that Provincial Graduate, who had been chatting and laughing moments before, were now all pale-faced as they watched below. They heard the piercing, miserable screams with perfect clarity, and saw with perfect clarity the blood and the collapsing crowd.

Plotting was one thing; witnessing it with their own eyes was another entirely. They all wanted to shut their eyes, to turn away, but they dared not, because at that moment, several large men in the private room were staring them down.

"Zhao's Camp and Cloud Mountain Trading have no wish to stir up trouble, but neither are they afraid of it. All who cause disturbances will be ruthlessly crushed."

In a private room on the second floor of Qingjiang Tower, not far from Windward Tower, Zhou Xuezhi, Zhang Hubin, Li Dajin, and others stood looking down. Except for Zhou Xuezhi, who frowned repeatedly, the expressions of Zhang Hubin and Li Dajin were no different from usual.

"... All along, only the underworld of Qingjiangpu has known how formidable we are. Our rules are strict, and we've had little dealings with the common folk. The commoners have only heard rumors and hold no fear of us. The moment they're incited, they rise up and cause trouble. This time, we'll take the opportunity to teach them a lesson—let them see blood and learn how formidable we are..."

Outsiders thought Zhao's Camp's strength in Qingjiangpu was all on the periphery, but they did not know that the eyes of the Internal Guard and the Xuzhou jianghu men were watching closely from within. Word that several wealthy merchant houses were inciting the commoners to riot had been reported to Dong Bingfeng and Zhou Xuezhi at the very first moment.

Thanks to the three book-friends "123*, Yuan Heng Li Zhen, Qi San Wen" for their tips. It's mid-month—everyone, cast your monthly tickets for Great Ming Wufu. Thank you all for your subscriptions and monthly tickets.