Chapter 937: The Refugees Rise

A city broken by refugees is the most terrifying thing — they eat everything, take everything, loot everything, and then the city's inhabitants become refugees themselves. Willing or not, they can only follow the mass, for any other path is death.

If these cities had fallen one after another, the authorities would have had time to prepare — they could have mustered government troops to intercept, reinforced the defenses of cities along the refugees' route, even stockpiled provisions for relief. But these cities fell within barely two days of each other, and the refugees achieved this while on the march.

Advancing on multiple routes, attacking the cities at roughly the same time, and then achieving roughly the same result — even government troops would find that hard to pull off.

By the time word reached the prefectural and provincial seats, the Prefect, the Circuit Intendant, the Grand Coordinator, and the rest suddenly discovered that five or six departments and counties in Yanzhou Prefecture had already fallen. They were utterly horrified.

All six of the fallen departments and counties lay near the Grand Canal, and the refugees' destination was the triangular zone between Jining Department, Ziyang — the seat of Yanzhou Prefecture — and Zou County. Any official with the slightest sense could judge what the refugees intended. Jining Department was the canal transport hub, the wealthiest place in Shandong, hoarding vast stores of grain, fodder, and treasure. Ziyang, the prefectural seat, was the site of the Prince of Lu's estate and another rich, great city. As for Zou County, because the Meng family, descendants of the Second Sage, resided there, it had never been ravaged by taxes and corvée, nor had its people fled. In a Shandong of these times, it too was a flourishing place. Not to mention, less than forty li from the prefectural seat of Ziyang lay Qufu County, home to the Kong family estate of the Duke for Fulfilling the Sage — a place no less prosperous than Ziyang, to say nothing of the Kong clan, descendants of the Sage himself, who dwelt there.

Jining, Ziyang, Zou County, Qufu — all lay around that triangular zone. Whichever one fell, the officials involved would be in catastrophic trouble. If anything happened in Jining, the Grand Canal would be severed again, and this time there would be no restrained, low-key handling like Zhao Jin of Xuzhou. From the Son of Heaven down to Eunuch Wei, all would be enraged, and dismissal and punishment would be certain. If the prefectural seat of Ziyang fell and any mishap befell the Prince of Lu's line, or if trouble occurred at the Duke for Fulfilling the Sage's estate, then dismissal and punishment would be the least of their worries — whether they could keep their heads was another matter entirely.

The moment Yanzhou Prefecture's express riders reached Jinan, the Shandong officialdom sprang into action with rare efficiency, preparing to muster troops and march south to quell the rebellion, then urgently memorializing the court to request reinforcements.

After several routs in Liaodong, large numbers of Liaodong troops had crossed the sea into Shandong, bringing the number of government troops in the province to nearly thirty thousand. Yet the Grand Coordinator of Shandong could immediately mobilize only a few thousand.

Grand Coordinator Zhao Yan issued the order, and Regional Commander Yang Guodong dared not delay, immediately mobilizing his forces. But the focus of Shandong's defense was Dengzhou Prefecture, and the bulk of the troops were garrisoned in Dengzhou and Laizhou. They could not reach Yanzhou and Jining for some time, and could only burn incense and pray to Buddha, hoping the government troops there could hold out a little longer.

In all of vast Shandong, the number of officers and men on the Ministry of War's registers was barely over nine thousand. After accounting for the customary abuses of phantom payrolls, there were only a little over six thousand troops. Several hundred had been lost in last year's clash with Zhao Jin and had not yet been fully replaced. With the majority stationed along the northern coast of Dengzhou Prefecture, the forces in Yanzhou numbered no more than fifteen hundred, with just over two hundred cavalry, commanded by a Regional Vice Commander. Yet the refugees, even without a proper count, numbered at least over a hundred thousand — and that was likely an underestimate.

Fifteen hundred against over a hundred thousand, perhaps even more — no one saw this as a hopeless mismatch. Most believed that while these fifteen hundred or so troops might not be able to sweep the refugees away, they could certainly hold the defense.

What did a hundred thousand refugees matter? They were nothing but clay chickens and pottery dogs — not even worthy of being called chickens and dogs, merely insects and ants. That they had broken those cities was nothing more than striking where defenses were weak, with collaborators inside. Those cities also shared one trait: they had virtually no government troops defending them.

Let these reckless rebel scum run wild for now. Once the great army assembles and arrives, they will be utterly swept away and annihilated.

Ge Tianfeng was sixteen years old, a farm boy from Daicun Dam in Wenshang County. When he was ten, a great disaster struck Shandong and plague swept through. That year, Ge Tianfeng's mother could not hold on and passed away.

The Ge family was fortunate that year; they did not follow their fellow villagers into vagrancy. It was said that many who went died in the Southern Metropolitan Region, and the rest were seized for hard labor, never to return in this lifetime.

After the drought, Shandong's harvests were passable, but Ge Tianfeng never felt things had improved. In these five years, the times he had eaten his fill could be counted on two hands, each one etched firmly in his memory. Hunger was the norm. It made a mockery of his name — Ge Tianfeng, "Fields of Abundant Harvest," a name chosen by a scholar in the village. Whether the fields suffered disaster or yielded a bumper crop, Ge Tianfeng could not remember ever eating his fill.

With an empty belly, the body naturally weakens. A minor illness easily turns grave, and then one cannot pull through. That was how Ge Tianfeng's elder brother and two younger sisters had died, leaving only him and his father to cling to each other.

Ge Tianfeng had grown numb to the loss of family. At times he even felt that with fewer people to fight for food, he could eat a little more. But the Liaodong levy made even this small, dark wish impossible. After a year of bitter toil, the tax collectors left them with nothing. Wheat clearly grew from the earth, yet even bran was considered a luxury, and they could not eat it often.

After the first year of the Liaodong levy, the Ge family could hold on no longer. They pawned their land at an extremely low price to a licentiate's household in Wenshang County.

This licentiate's family was merely well-off, their rise built on stingy calculation and the exploitation of tenant farmers. But this time they had misjudged the tide. Not being a local power, they commanded little respect from the clerks and runners. They had greedily snapped up land during the levy, only to find it a millstone around their necks. In the second year of the levy, their reserves were wiped out, and the land was snapped up in turn by a provincial graduate in the county. Ge Tianfeng and his father became hired hands for yet another household.

The greatest trouble with farming in Wenshang County was irrigation. Although Daicun Dam lay right beside the river channels and weir, that water was reserved to feed the Grand Canal. Digging channels to draw irrigation water was forbidden, and the officials watched with extreme severity. The slightest violation brought harsh punishment. Wells and ditches were also forbidden in the surrounding area, lest they reduce the water volume in the rivers feeding Daicun Dam.

This strict vigilance was not out of loyalty to the court, but to extract profit. In Wenshang County, water had a fixed price. To irrigate, one had to negotiate a price with the men in charge — only then could the water be used.

The provincial graduate's household was large and wealthy, but they had built their fortune through thrift. They would never buy water unless a true drought struck. Instead, they had secretly dug several wells in hidden spots and made their hired hands and tenant farmers carry water for irrigation.

On a diet barely enough to stave off death, toiling like oxen and horses, a man could hardly endure. Ge Tianfeng's father finally could endure no longer and fell ill from exhaustion.

When the rich fell ill, they could call a physician and buy medicine. When the poor fell ill, they could only tough it out or pray to gods and Buddha. But the temples and abbeys were all prepared for the great households; without incense offerings, one could not even cross the threshold. The only thing to worship and believe in was the Smelling Incense Sect. Many of the poor brothers around them believed, and they could help each other a little.

After Ge Tianfeng and his father joined the sect, they at least managed a few meals of coarse-grain gruel. With a full belly of grain, the body felt a little better — it could be counted as the Buddha's blessing.

Every day they toiled bitterly. After the farm work was done, they had to gather firewood and cut grass for the master's household, tend their livestock, and even stand at the front with clubs during armed feuds. It was misery beyond words. The more bitter the life, the more alluring the Smelling Incense Sect's teachings became. If the Western Paradise and the Land of Ultimate Bliss truly existed, they would not have to suffer so much. Ge Tianfeng and his father became among the most devout of the sect's followers.

When the earthquake came, Ge Tianfeng and his father were unharmed. Living in a thatched hut, even if it collapsed, only wooden poles and dry straw pressed down — no real danger. But after the earthquake, the master's household claimed the year's harvest would be poor. While pressing everyone to work harder, they cut the rations. The labor grew more bitter, yet the days grew harder to endure.

Then the scripture preacher began to speak of the Age of Dharma Decline and the coming Great Calamity, filling Ge Tianfeng's heart with terror. Each day they ate too little and worked too much; those rations were nowhere near enough. But the master's household did not care. In times like these, hiring labor was far too easy. A human life was worth less than a dou of rice. If they died, they died — who cared?

Ge Tianfeng's father gave up part of his own rations and helped his son with his work. Such hardship — eating less and working more — how could anyone endure? The day before the second earthquake struck, father and son lay down to sleep. They chatted idly with the other laborers who shared their quarters, saying there was no way out working like this. If they kept heading south, they might become hired hands for an even wealthier household, and perhaps eat a little better. They did not talk long; they were dead tired, and without sleep, the next day would be even harder to bear.

When Ge Tianfeng rose the next morning, he found his father had not gotten up. He called out twice, gave him a push, and only then realized his father's body was already stiff. He had died sometime in the night, no one knew when.

When a hired hand like that died, aside from Ge Tianfeng weeping his heart out, no one paid any mind. The master's steward merely cursed and grumbled about the trouble, unwilling even to provide a straw mat. He just said to dig a hole and bury him, and to make it deep so as not to foul the crops.

When the second earthquake struck, Ge Tianfeng felt no fear. He just sat in the hut, staring blankly, thinking that a life like this was worse than death.

After this second earthquake, chaos erupted everywhere. Ge Tianfeng stopped working and only went to burn incense and listen to the sermons. This continuous heaven-rending, earth-shattering turmoil made Ge Tianfeng feel that the Age of Dharma Decline had truly come, that some Great Calamity was indeed descending upon the world. If there were only days left to live, why bother with labor? Besides, burning incense and listening to sermons at least got him a bowl of gruel.

While listening to the sermons there, Ge Tianfeng felt in a dazed way that the man preaching seemed just as confused and panicked, utterly at a loss. But by the fourth day after the earthquake, everything changed. The preacher had spirit again, and among the incense-burning crowd, several sturdy, healthy-looking men had appeared.

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