Chapter 925: No Easy Peace

Hearing this, Zhao Jin said nothing, but Li Dajin's expression eased considerably. It was indeed common for military officers to embezzle soldiers' pay and provisions, but common didn't mean the men beneath them held no resentment. Li Dajin had once served in the army and naturally sympathized; the actions of Li Ziyou's relatives even gave him a sense of satisfaction.

Zhao Jin's questions, however, were quite wide-ranging. He next asked, "What's the story with that Zu family?"

"A great clan of Liaodong. Their ancestor was a trusted aide of Grand Marshal Li—Li Chengliang—and once served as a Regional Commander. The previous generation also held the high rank of Vice General. The current head of the family holds a guerrilla rank, and many of the younger generation are officials as well. Those my nephews killed were sons of this Zu family, and they held a squad commander rank."

After these two sentences of explanation, Li Ziyou cursed indignantly: "If Grand Marshal Li were still here, how would these people dare act like this! Our Li family and Grand Marshal Li's were allied clans. Now, though, the old..."

He hadn't complained long when Li Dajin coughed once. Li Ziyou immediately gave a dry laugh and fell silent. Back then, Li Chengliang in Liaodong was the equal of a prince, even surpassing the Ming dynasty's titled nobles. Those Zhu clan descendants penned up inside cities couldn't compare to Grand Marshal Li, who held Liaodong and commanded tens of thousands of troops. People of that era placed the greatest importance on clan ties. This Li Ziyou, surnamed Li and prospering from Liaodong goods, had surely benefited greatly from that shared clan connection.

By now, that advantage was likely gone. Li Chengliang had died of illness, and many of the Li family's core sons had either died in battle or from disease. The Li family no longer ranked among the great houses of Liaodong. They could probably still help in business, but nothing else.

As for this Zu family—grandfather a Regional Commander, father a Vice General, and this generation a guerrilla—they were a military lineage that had remained prominent all along. With their sons killed, how could they possibly let the matter rest?

What surprised Zhao Jin, however, was the embezzlement of military pay right before a battle. At such a critical moment, when men should be urged to fight bravely, to pull a stunt that damaged morale and fighting spirit was truly unimaginable.

Zhao Jin sat deep in thought, and no one dared disturb him. Finally, he tapped his forehead and said with self-deprecation, "So much to do. Have those nephews of yours come here, and bring their families. I'll be setting out to return tomorrow or the day after. They can leave with me."

Li Ziyou hadn't expected that after mentioning an idle matter, Zhao Jin would actually agree. Li Dajin, however, was not surprised. Everyone in Zhao's Camp, from top to bottom, knew that Zhao Jin was interested in Liaodong.

"I thank Master Jin for his great kindness. Please rest assured, Master Jin, I will bear all expenses for these families myself. If Sixth Master Dong has any needs, I will contribute to those as well."

Taking in these people was, in a sense, sheltering fugitives—a matter of great risk. Of course, for Zhao's Camp, it was a trivial matter. But for Li Ziyou, the favor was immense, so naturally he had to show his gratitude in financial terms.

"Don't conceal anything, or there will be trouble." Before Li Ziyou left, Zhao Jin said this one line. Li Ziyou nodded and bowed, agreeing profusely.

When only Zhao Jin and Li Dajin remained in the room, Zhao Jin gave a word of caution: "Old Li, don't get too close to the prominent households here. We walk different paths."

With Li Dajin's mind, he of course understood what Zhao Jin meant. During the conversation with Li Ziyou just now, his bias had been far too obvious—anyone could see it. Li Dajin quickly stood and said, "Master Jin, I knew this Li Ziyou from before. And over the past half year, Li Ziyou has been very close to our Zhao's Camp, voluntarily donating grain, pay, and supplies, and also providing news and information about the other wealthy merchants and great households of Qingjiangpu. That's why we've grown close."

Zhao Jin nodded and did not pursue the topic. He hadn't been to Qingjiangpu in a long time; the people here had grown accustomed to acting on their own. But there was no need to worry about loyalty—Li Dajin's family was still in Xuzhou, and he had just mentioned his eldest son becoming a household retainer, which showed he understood his position clearly.

"Old Li, do you want a life of thunderous glory, or a life of peaceful stability?" Zhao Jin suddenly asked.

Li Dajin's expression shifted for a moment. He sighed and said, "Master Jin, I'm getting old. I just want to live out my years in peace."

Zhao Jin was silent. Before the next person came in to report, he spoke: "To enjoy peace—how could it ever be that easy?"

"... These past two years, the Yellow River has flooded, and the Huai region has suffered along with it. Zhejiang has seen continuous great fires—over ten thousand households burned in Hangzhou. Everywhere under heaven, harsh taxes and levies abound, and now the Liao tax has been added on top. Officials and runners press with deadly urgency. Truly, the people have no means to live. The whole realm suffers such misery, and our Shandong is even worse. The finest fertile land—a hundred mu can be bought for a mere eight taels of silver. Slightly poorer land, a hundred mu for five taels. And so much abandoned farmland lies untilled. This sky-darkening Liao tax falls entirely on these fields. Tax collectors and grain requisition officers go down to the villages and market towns, demanding dozens of strings of cash each time. The poor have no money, and their land fetches no price. No one cares. They can only sell their children first, then mortgage their fields. A perfectly good mu of land brings only eighty wen—a pittance not even enough for the runners to buy a drink. Yet these runners descend a dozen, even dozens of times a year, pressing them to death. The official grain quotas and taxes can't be paid in full. Children and land—whatever can be sold is sold. Yet still there is no relief. To avoid jail and the cangue, they can only turn to usury. But what good is usury? It's just like being imprisoned at home. Look anywhere, every county is nine houses out of ten empty. Morning and evening, no smoke rises from the chimneys. Even if you somehow pay the Liao tax and grain levy in full, what then? At home you eat tree leaves and grass roots. To have a bit of bean dregs or bran mixed in is already a blessing. Nothing to wear, nothing to eat. Every coin and grain is scraped clean by the officials and runners. And it doesn't end there. The local officials and powerful bullies seize the chance to encroach and swallow up what's left, until nothing remains. In times like these, in years like these, who can still survive? Who still cares about peace? Who still cares about the king's law? Everyone thinks of rebellion. Once chaos erupts, nothing needs to be paid anymore. In this great tide under heaven, the moment the Venerable Teacher raises his voice in summons, every region will surely rise up with staves and respond without fail!"

Outside Yuncheng County, inside the Zeng Family Estate, beneath a newly built bamboo canopy, Xu Hongru sat surrounded by the prominent figures of Shandong's Smelling Incense Sect, listening to Xie Mingxian's impassioned speech. Outside the canopy, the sect guards, though facing outward, kept turning their heads, clearly captivated by this torrent of words.

Among the outer guards, those with healthy complexions and strong bodies remained expressionless and composed. But those with sallow faces and gaunt frames listened, utterly entranced—they were the ones constantly turning their heads. Some were so moved that they couldn't hold back hot tears. The guard captains barked at them repeatedly.

Compared to the guards and believers outside, those seated beneath the bamboo canopy displayed a variety of expressions. Xie Mingxian was impassioned. Xu Hongru sat calmly upright. Xu Hongju stood behind him with hands clasped behind his back, glaring fiercely at everyone present. Shen Zhi, Xia Zhongjin, Hou Wu, and the other core confidants listened quietly. The rest fell into two types. One type wore coarse hemp clothing with patches, their hands and feet thick and rough, their faces dark—clearly hard laborers weathered by sun and wind all day. They listened intently; some wore angry expressions, grinding their teeth, while others were so moved they kept wiping the corners of their eyes. The other type wore silk and fur robes, looking every bit the wealthy gentry and local magnates. Their faces were full of suspicion as they glanced cautiously at Xu Hongru and his group, then looked disdainfully at the poor laborers before them.

Furthermore, at the farthest seats from Xu Hongru sat several men with unruly, defiant expressions. They did not look like decent folk and shot provocative glances at those around them, even directing such looks at Xu Hongru and his confidants.

After finishing his torrential exposition on the great situation, Xie Mingxian paused to catch his breath, then spoke again in a ringing voice: "Everyone, the situation now is superb. The common people everywhere suffer deeply and are waiting for our sect to step forward and lead them out of their sea of misery. Meanwhile, the government is utterly overwhelmed, unable to tend to both head and tail. If our sect launches the uprising, our momentum will be like splitting bamboo—unstoppable by anyone."

When he finished, Shen Zhi nodded and added, "Revered Xie speaks truly. The earthquakes in the second and third months were a heaven-sent opportunity, a great destiny arranged by the Buddha for the Venerable Teacher. Before, every prefecture and county seat had high walls and deep moats, and the countryside was full of earthen forts and wooden stockades. But after those two quakes, everything has crumbled to nothing. The original government troops and local militias are all too busy saving themselves. Now, the only force that can rally the masses is our sect. If our sect acts, it will surely be irresistible."

"This Great Ming court—harsh taxes, the Liao levy, and now earthquakes. Truly, the dragon veins are severed, its fate exhausted. The people suffer and endure hardship. Seeking deliverance, they all burn incense and devoutly believe in our sect. Once we rise, millions upon millions will immediately answer, and we will sweep across all under heaven in an instant..."

Xie Mingxian and Shen Zhi took turns speaking, clarifying the great situation for everyone and boosting their morale. Just as they reached this critical point, they were interrupted by increasingly loud laughter and chatter from across the way.

"... How many young ladies from great households did you get over there, and how's the quality..."

"... All top-tier looks, so tender you could squeeze water out of them. They do whatever you tell them to do—truly a pleasure..."

"... These are good days for us brothers now. A vast Shandong, no city walls to stop us, government troops and militias in chaos, letting us come and go as we please. We should seize this chance to get rich and enjoy ourselves..."

Xie Mingxian and Shen Zhi exchanged a glance, then both looked toward Xu Hongru. Xu Hongru merely smiled and shook his head, then spoke: "Meng Xianhan, Zhou Nian'an, Tang Yu. I summoned you to Yuncheng, yet you look thoroughly displeased. Could it be you harbor discontent?"

The three rough, boisterous men who had been laughing and talking loudly froze, all falling silent. They hadn't expected Xu Hongru to speak so directly.

These three were not common folk who had joined the sect and become assembly masters. They were powerful figures who had brought their own men and followers to burn incense and join the faith, receiving the position of assembly master upon entry. They were local bandit chiefs—den masters and local tyrants around their own estates. When they ventured out in force, they were bandits who burned, killed, and plundered.

Thanks to the old friend "Wu Liulang" of Chuangshi for the reward, and thanks to everyone on Chuangshi and Qidian for the subscriptions and monthly tickets. Thank you all.