Chapter 182: Like Fire (Part 2)

Qin Xingyue took five garrison soldiers ahead as an advance party, heading to Mixi first.

Le Wuya, meanwhile, brought Wen Ren, Yuan Zijin, Er Ya, the little yellow horse, and a perpetually melancholic Zong Yao—who had the air of a graceful, sentimental poet—and set off toward Mixi.

The little yellow horse had matured considerably after its long journey, and could now stretch its legs and trot along at a decent clip.

But its lazy, gluttonous, and sly nature was hard to shake. It looked like it was running quite diligently, but in truth it was shuffling forward in small steps, conserving energy however it could.

That pace suited them just fine, though.

Zong Yao was not skilled at riding, so for safety's sake, he had chosen an old horse that knew the way.

The old horse was steady in temperament, but incredibly skinny. Even with a saddle pad, it was still terribly uncomfortable to sit on.

Zong Yao was naturally built like a scholar's bony frame, and when the old horse picked up speed, it became a clash of two skeletons—surely enough to rattle Zong Yao apart.

So, to ensure Zong Yao survived the trip, the group slowed their pace and made their way to Mixi at a leisurely speed.

Along the way, Zong Yao inquired about the origins of these coastal "Japanese pirates."

Since there was nothing else to do on the road, Le Wuya shared everything he knew without reservation.

During the height of the late emperor's alchemical fervor, smuggling along the coast had blazed like wildfire. Civilians smuggled goods, officials disposed of the loot, and the two sides worked in perfect coordination. Silver flowed into their coffers like water, and everyone made a killing.

But as the saying goes, "If you play with fire, you'll get burned."

An imperial censor, while on an inspection tour of the Zhejiang and Fujian region, heard the locals talking about people getting rich off fortunes from the sea and went undercover to investigate.

As luck would have it, he ran into a slow-witted boat boss. The censor was a southerner by birth, so his accent didn't mark him as an outsider, but combined with his sneaking around and the fact that recently smuggled goods had been getting seized by officials—even among smugglers, different factions' interests didn't always align—the captain took him for a spy from a rival gang. Without asking any questions, he had the censor beaten half to death, tied a large stone to his foot, and intended to sink him into the river to feed the fish.

The one who gave the order was foolish, but fortunately, the man doing the killing was equally muddle-headed and hadn't tied the rope properly. It came loose the moment he hit the water.

The censor was a strong swimmer and, despite his injuries, managed to drag himself back to shore.

However, between the terror, the water he'd swallowed, and his severe wounds, the censor developed a severe lung ailment the moment he reached land. He fell gravely ill and soon reached a point beyond the reach of medicine.

Before he died, he forced himself to write a memorial and sent it directly to the capital, exposing the years of secret dealings along the coast.

An imperial censor sent by the court had died investigating smuggling—this was a blow to the court's prestige. Xiang Zheng, then the crown prince regent, waved his brush and decreed: strike!

The one tasked with this heavy responsibility that year was Yuan Weiyan.

"Old General Yuan was truly fierce as a tiger in his prime," Le Wuya said, recalling the glorious deeds he'd heard from Le Qianzhang in his younger days. "…He led from the front, advancing through a hail of arrows without ever dodging or flinching. Once, he drove a band of fishing pirates to the riverbank. They'd already thrown away their armor and scattered their spirits, untying their ropes and raising their sails to flee. General Yuan stood on the shore and hurled his throwing halberds—one throw, one kill. By the time the boat had sailed twenty feet out, all twelve pirates who had scrambled aboard were dead, and the river turned crimson with blood… General Yuan hounded them out relentlessly, forcing those bandits to sail across the sea and settle in Japan."

Yuan Zijin's heart swelled with excitement, his chest puffed out like a strutting little rooster.

In the time he'd spent with Le Wuya, he'd been practicing his aim with the meteor hammer daily and drilling with the garrison soldiers. His once-thin frame had gradually grown sturdier, and he now carried a hint of a martial artist's imposing bearing.

It was rare for Le Wuya's dog mouth to produce ivory, and even rarer that it was about his father's heroic deeds, so Yuan Zijin magnanimously overlooked Le Wuya's use of the word "bite."

Zong Yao, meanwhile, was being rattled until his soul nearly left his body by the old horse.

He had to be careful not to bite his tongue, so his speech came out halting: "S-So… these bandits came… came back…"

"Yes. Word is Japan's in chaos, with various factions locked in fierce struggles. Those bastards who got driven out weren't welcome there, so they banded together and sold their swords to warring factions. They actually managed to make something of themselves."

Le Wuya was as relaxed as the little yellow horse, speaking unhurriedly: "We here all believe in returning home in silken robes, right? Once they'd made a name for themselves, wouldn't they start thinking about coming back? Besides, General Yuan is no longer leading troops in the Zhejiang-Fujian region. He'd made enemies of every local magnate who'd been profiting off those pirates by driving them out. The fact that he got away clean and retired to the capital was more than his ancestors' accumulated virtue deserved."

Yuan Zijin suddenly stopped smiling.

He gripped his reins tightly, and from the depths of his heart, a belated chill of fear crept up.

Wen Ren frowned: "After they put down roots in Japan, they brought ronin back with them, didn't they?"

"Yes." Le Wuya shrugged. "On the Japan side, there were ronin who couldn't scrape by at home, and there were opportunists who coveted Dayu's abundant resources and wanted to seek wealth through danger. And so, they came back. Quite a few men from Japan mixed in among them. The coastal officials didn't want to revisit old history, so they painted them all with the same brush and called them 'Japanese pirates.'"

Zong Yao wore a terrified expression, and combined with the relentless jostling, his face grew even paler: "If that's the case… then truly… calamity is about to befall us… But I've never heard of this… this… this army in the capital…"

"Good that you haven't," Le Wuya said, nudging Yuan Zijin with his riding crop. "Little Two, you know the story behind this, right?"

Yuan Zijin thought for a moment, then hazarded a guess: "The leader who brought the fishing pirates from Zhejiang and Fujian to Japan—was his surname Bao?"

Seeing Le Wuya nod in confirmation, he slapped his hands together in excitement: "That's it! It was him! The one who died of a sudden illness!"

Yuan Zijin still remembered that about ten years ago, Yuan Weiyan had, for no apparent reason, spread a lively family banquet. He'd feasted with gusto and drunk deep, happier than could be.

When his elder brother Yuan Ziyou asked why, Yuan Weiyan had clapped his hands joyfully and laughed: "Bao the Bandit is dead! Hahaha!"

Yuan Zijin hadn't understood a thing, just clutching his rice bowl and laughing along foolishly with his father.

But Yuan Ziyou clearly knew the inside story. He perked up and pressed: "How did he die?"

Yuan Weiyan was overcome with joy: "Stayed in Japan too long, came back and couldn't adjust to the local waters and soil—died on the spot! Hahaha!"

Years later, Yuan Zijin finally understood what his father had been so happy about.

It truly was a ridiculous way to die.

This "Bao the Bandit" went by the full name Bao Sanye, known to all as Third Master Bao.

These fishing pirates were nothing but a motley crew to begin with. The fact that he'd managed to weld that scattered sand into a solid mass and establish a foothold in Japan showed that Third Master Bao did have some real skill.

But skilled as he was, Third Master Bao's fortune had turned against him—he met his end the moment he got home.

Once the boss was gone, the gang broke apart. The pirates split into their own factions again—some smuggling for profit, some robbing merchant ships, some raiding villages. Each pursued their own schemes, churning the Zhejiang-Fujian region back into chaos.

The government fought the pirates again and again, but could never wipe them out completely.

First, these pirates were birds of a feather, sharing the same foul temperament. They'd also honed their combat skills through Japan's endless wars.

Dayu's soldier-farmers, on the other hand, spent their lives with hoes in hand—practically indistinguishable from peasants. When they met these pirates, it was like facing invincible warriors; they crumbled at the first contact.

Second, these pirates weren't entirely devoted to causing chaos.

They'd returned to their old smuggling ways and quietly reestablished their old networks.

Only this time, they'd traded their slingshots for cannons.

The officials and gentry had learned their lesson and understood the principle of getting rich quietly. They sheltered the pirates and disposed of their loot, while secretly stuffing their own money pouches. They put on a show of pursuing a few remnants, and occasionally caught some petty thieves, executed them as "pirates" for public display—and that was considered earning their government salary.

The group traveled and talked, following the main road, and arrived at Mixi County before sunset.

A full day of cold wind had blown the sky clear of clouds, leaving only a small, round sun the pale gold of a duck egg yolk hanging low on the horizon, about to set but not quite.

Mixi County's streets were deserted and desolate. The common folk, still shaken by the terror of the previous night, kept their doors firmly shut.

Le Wuya and his party rode straight through, heading directly to the Mixi County training grounds.

Before they even got there, a clamor of voices drifted in from a distance, as if people were going at it hot and heavy.

Drawing closer, Le Wuya caught Qin Xingyue's booming voice in the middle of the argument and quirked an eyebrow.

The guards at the training grounds were also craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the commotion, but when they suddenly spotted strangers riding up, they quickly straightened up and barked, "Who goes there?!"

Just as Wen Ren was about to produce the prefect's official badge, Le Wuya kicked his horse into a gallop, gave the reins a sharp tug, and rode straight into the training grounds.

Inside the training grounds, two sides were locked in a standoff.

Qin Xingyue stood alone, facing a burly man over six feet tall with a fierce glare.

This man had a wild, unkempt beard, with bristly hairs jutting out in every direction, stiff as a brush—like some kind of boar demon.

As Le Wuya rode into the training grounds, he heard the boar demon spraying spit all over Qin Xingyue.

"You can't pin this whole mess on me!" the boar demon snarled. "Ask anyone anywhere—my maternal cousin works under Governor Ling—"

Le Wuya rode his horse into the training grounds, ignoring Ping Gen'er, and fixed his gaze on Qin Xingyue as he pulled up his horse and asked, "Which mighty general under Governor Ling is this?"

Ping Gen'er immediately fell silent. Seeing Qin Xingyue respectfully clasp his fists in salute, and noting Le Wuya's striking appearance, he vaguely guessed who this was but didn't dare believe it.

—The high and mighty Prefect, why would he come to this godforsaken backwater?

While he was still in shock, Le Wuya dismounted, blew out a puff of white breath, pulled off his gloves, and asked Qin Xingyue, "So, mighty general, this is the runaway centurion Ping Gen'er?"

"Your Excellency, I didn't flee... I swear I didn't flee."

Centurion Ping flashed a mouthful of yellow teeth, but his smile was more like a nervous grimace. "I was thinking... of leading the troops out of the city, circling around to flank them... catching them off guard and hitting them from behind..."

The soldiers and military families who had slunk back into the city with him kept their heads bowed low, playing dumb, hoping to slip by unnoticed.

"Don't listen to his excuses, Your Excellency." Qin Xingyue opened his palm, revealing a torn hidden pouch, white cotton wadding, and five gleaming gold bars. "I found these on him. Ran off with the money, deserted in the face of battle—what else would you call that but a deserter?! Seven or eight people in the tavern all saw you bolt the moment you heard the enemy was coming—are you saying they all conspired to frame you?"

Ping Gen'er clutched his torn, loosened collar where Qin Xingyue had ripped it, his fleshy face twitching, turning red, then pale.

Last night, he had enjoyed a hearty bout of drinking, and was in a drunken haze, bragging wildly, when he suddenly heard that Japanese pirates had breached the city. He broke out in a cold sweat, his drunkenness vanishing, his stomach churning with fear. He hurried home, stuffed the five gold bars he'd traded for a few days earlier into his clothes, and bolted for the city gates.

That was all Ping Gen'er could take with him.

What he couldn't take were his twenty mu of land.

But even if the pirates looted wildly, they couldn't dig up his land.

After the pirates passed through, all they had to do was sneak back, report that the defending soldiers had fought to the death but were overwhelmed by over five hundred enemies, and they'd get away with it.

Who would have thought someone would be so eager to grab the spotlight that they'd throw the bigger picture out the window!

At this thought, Ping Gen'er got more and more worked up, feeling he had been wronged. He opened his big mouth wide and, to everyone's surprise, accused Zhang Feng instead: "Your Excellency, hear me out—that Zhang Feng has a lover in Mixi, and he's lost his head over a woman! The enemy was clearly ferocious and ruthless, but he disobeyed orders and insisted on staying, all to protect that woman of his!"

Zhang Feng was a tall, strapping young man. Having just scored a victory, he was bursting with pride, standing tall with his chest puffed out, ready to be rewarded. But suddenly, a huge accusation of "disobeying orders" was thrown at him, right to his face. For a moment, he was stunned, his jaw dropped in disbelief.

Seeing Zhang Feng silenced and the official saying nothing, Ping Gen'er grew bolder, twisting the truth more and more: "Think about it, Your Excellency—why would the enemy retreat after losing so few men? It must be that Zhang Feng secretly colluded with them, staged this whole thing for you. When he gets promoted and rewarded, he'll surely have to pay off those accursed villains. Otherwise, how could he lead a few dozen men to beat back twice their number of pirates?"

At this, Zhang Feng finally snapped back to reality, his eyes blazing with fury, his fists clenched into fists the size of cauldrons.

This accusation was clearly out to get him killed!!

He was terrible with words, and in his extreme rage, all he could think was: "Beat this old bastard to death."

But he never got the chance to.

Le Wuya stepped forward, whipped the short blade from Qin Xingyue's belt, and swung it in one swift motion—

A flash of steel, and blood sprayed.

Ping Gen'er's yapping mouth would never open again.

He grabbed his slit throat with both hands, trying to stanch the bleeding.

But it was no use.

The last words he left in this world were a pained, terrified, muffled "Mama."

The whole field went dead silent.

Zhang Feng stood there, fists still clenched, ready to swing, completely dumbfounded.

Yuan Zijin's face went pale, but once he realized what had happened, his eyes grew brighter and brighter.

He was thinking what most people there were thinking: Good! Killed well!

Zong Yao felt a warmth on his cheek, raised a hand to wipe it, and found a smear of warm red on his fingertips.

He looked up at Ping Gen'er's crumpled body on the ground, then down at the blood on his fingers, and slowly put two and two together.

Once it clicked, his legs went weak. If Wen Ren hadn't been quick to catch him, he would have slid to the ground in front of everyone.

Le Wuya wiped the bloodied blade back and forth on Ping Gen'er's clothes a couple of times, and as he cleaned it, he lifted his eyes and calmly looked at Qin Xingyue. "Qin Xingyue."

Qin Xingyue snapped back to attention. "Yes."

"What's the punishment for a soldier who runs from battle?"

"...Immediate execution, no mercy!"

"Well, that's strange." Le Wuya said with curiosity. "Ever since I walked in, how has a dead man been talking nonstop?"

Qin Xingyue's expression turned solemn, and he dropped to one knee, admitting his fault: "It was my indecisiveness."

Even so, Qin Xingyue was filled with gratitude toward Le Wuya.

This was one of the reasons he had made the long trip to Mixi.

Like Le Wuya, Qin Xingyue was new to the area. His past military achievements didn't mean anything in Tongzhou, making it hard to command respect. In a situation like this, he really couldn't just bypass proper procedures and execute a centurion on the spot.

But with Le Wuya acting personally and giving him the green light to do what needed to be done, the situation was entirely different.

The ones who deserved to die were dead, and the ones who deserved a reward would get one.

Le Wuya turned to Zhang Feng. "You coming with me, or staying here?"

Zhang Feng snapped out of his daze, quickly dropped to his knees, his arms trembling with excitement.

In the deep autumn, the ground was cold enough to chill you to the bone.

But Zhang Feng's blood was boiling, and it was hard to calm down.

He was acutely aware that his chance to change his fate had arrived.

He lay prostrate on the ground, pondering for a long while.

Le Wuya also awaited his response.

After a long moment, Zhang Feng finally spoke: "Reporting to Your Honor, I... I, uh... I wanna stay in Mixi..."

Upon hearing this, Yuan Zijin was taken aback.

He figured Zhang Feng would've signed up for the garrison!

Everyone knew that sticking with Le Wuya meant eating well—that was the consensus among the troops.

Why the hell would he wanna stay in this godforsaken backwater county?

Le Wuya didn't say a word about his choice, just asked: "You got a wife?"

Zhang Feng's face went red, and a bashful grin crept onto his face before he even said a word.

So Ping Gen'er's earlier ribbing wasn't entirely off the mark.

He did have a girl on the side.

"She from a decent family?"

Zhang Feng's face went tight, and he thumped his head to the ground: "Your Honor, she... she's the daughter of Scholar Li from Mixi. After he died, her stepmother sold her into a whorehouse... We've known each other since we were kids, and the two of us, hell... I've been keeping her, but..."

His words came out all jumbled and rambling, but Le Wuya got the gist.

Zhang Feng was young and broke, scraping by on a paltry monthly wage. Supporting her on his pay was never gonna last.

Part of why he'd dared to rally a crew and risk his neck was that once the pirates hit town, they'd be dragging off women left and right to rape.

Staying in Mixi meant he could keep a closer eye on her.

Le Wuya just looked at him and read him like an open book.

He said, "So you wanna marry her?"

Zhang Feng slammed his head to the ground: "Zhang Feng's a poor wretch, no ma or pa, and I'll leave everything up to Your Honor!"

Yuan Zijin, standing off to the side, snickered to himself.

He was a freewheeling scoundrel by nature, and after all that time in Nanting, he'd soaked up a whole mess of small-town gossip—how could he miss what Zhang Feng was really getting at?

"Zhang Feng, here's my order," Le Wuya said calmly. "From this day forth, you are the centurion of Mixi County. Everything the former centurion Ping Gen'er owned—his house and property, plus five gold bars—gets seized into the public till, and the till's gonna hand it all over to you."

"Once things settle down, take your lady and get her re-registered. I'll give her a clean, commoner's status. When you have kids, boy or girl, I'll save a seat for them at Tongzhou Academy—they can come study whenever they want."

Zhang Feng was so grateful his eyes welled up, his lips quivering, too choked up for fancy words—he just thumped his head down three times in a row.

Le Wuya mounted his horse: "Alright, save those head-thumps for your wedding night. Now take me to see the bodies of those bastards."

He wheeled his horse around and rode past the wobbly Zong Yao: "Assistant Prefect Zong, you coming with me, or staying put?"

Zong Yao struggled weakly: "I'll head to the yamen... see the county magistrate, calm him down, give him a light scolding, and tell him not to get cocky over one little win—he's gotta fix the city gates and get the troops in order..."

"Good." Le Wuya snapped his whip. "Juren Ming, go with Assistant Prefect Zong."

Wen Ren Yue gave a bow: "Will do."

His face gave nothing away, but inside he was baffled.

In his book, Zong Yao—for all his sorry looks and lack of smarts—at least had the virtue of being steady and hardworking.

Take right now, for example—he'd gotten a real scare, but he wasn't about to ditch his duties.

A straight shooter like that, not exactly a sharp official, but at least he was a by-the-book, follow-the-rules kind of guy.

So why did Brother Gu still want him to keep tailing the guy?