Chapter 75: Do Not Quarrel with the Dead

Master Liu’s arrest and delivery to the county office was nothing short of a farce.

When Captain Zhang came to demand grain, he still managed to put his words delicately, saying he wished to maintain order in Yan’an Prefecture during the government’s military mobilization, and hoped that gentry like Master Liu could provide provisions as support.

But it had only been three months since the incident at Old Temple Village, and Liu Xiangyu no longer trusted him.

He was angry, but in this day and age, it was the ruffians who held sway. Anger could do nothing to curb their actions.

At most, the Black Dragon Mountain militia would stand in formation, and the northern township’s gunners would fire into the air, declaring they had no grain to spare.

Zhang the Captain left, and the mountain folk thought the matter was settled.

Who could have guessed that a few days later, the county bailiff would bring men into the mountains, claiming Liu Xiangyu had ordered his gunners to injure one of Zhang Xiong’s centurions.

Instantly, the people of Black Dragon Mountain were incensed. They hadn’t injured any centurion—if anything, the bailiff nearly didn’t make it back alive.

The bailiff, thoroughly frightened, softened his tone, saying only that Liu Xiangyu was to go and testify; if the centurion’s injury wasn’t due to the gunners, there would be no further trouble.

Liu Xiangyu was always an honest, upright scholar—clever but timid and principled. He couldn’t stand the thought of the villagers, in anger, beating the bailiff to death in the mountains; that would have been a calamity.

Concerned for his father’s safety, Liu Chengzu accompanied him to the county office.

The county magistrate, for reasons unknown, spent the entire time singing Zhang Xiong’s praises.

Tempers flared on both sides, and in a fit of anger, Liu Xiangyu exposed the incident of the Old Temple villagers’ severed heads being falsely claimed for merit.

This was a blunder, for it had been the magistrate’s office that had verified those heads—if merit had been falsely claimed, the magistrate was complicit.

Even then, the matter could have ended there: the magistrate and Zhang Xiong would merely have grudges against Liu Xiangyu, but there was little he could do.

But when honest men are pushed too far, they lose restraint. In his anger, Liu Xiangyu insulted the magistrate.

“Insulting a superior officer—one hundred strokes of the cane.” Liu Chengzu’s face darkened, growing more irritated as he spoke, and finally said, “Chengyun has found a father-in-law, let him speak.”

Chengyun, with a steelyard and abacus at his waist, squeezed out from among the burly men, straightened his clothes, and solemnly declared:

“My father-in-law says that insulting a superior officer—if he is of the sixth rank or above—warrants a hundred strokes. The magistrate is only seventh rank, so the punishment is reduced three grades. My second uncle holds honorary office, so that’s another reduction. In the end, it should be about thirty strokes?”

Liu Chengzong, already simmering with anger, curled his lips into a cold, mirthless smile. “Thirty strokes, hmm…”

His gaze swept slowly over everyone gathered: his brothers and mentors, comrades-in-arms, new and old friends, even followers who had come to join him.

They sought only a safe haven, a life without hunger or cold; apart from not being able to fulfill higher personal ambitions, this simple life was their dearest wish.

It was as if a vast hand rose within his heart, forcibly smothering the flames of his anger.

He asked, “What do they want? If the magistrate feels wronged by the insult, big brother, you and I will go apologize in person and offer some silver. If Captain Zhang wants grain, we’ll give him grain. Money, provisions, kowtow—whatever it takes, right? So long as we can get Father out.”

For a long while, no one spoke. Even Liu Chengzu looked as if he was barely containing his rage; he slammed his left fist against the mud wall with a thud. “If it were that simple, you wouldn’t even know about this; I’d have pulled Father out long ago. They want a hundred dan of grain.”

A hundred dan—what did that mean?

It was the monthly ration for the entire Black Dragon Mountain clan, their family’s harvest for a whole year.

Liu Chengzong let out a bitter laugh. “Did those bastards in the county office hire an accountant?”

Had they not raided Wangzhuang Fort, the county’s demand for grain would have meant utter ruin for them, forcing them into debt they could never repay.

They weren’t even allowed the chance to swallow their pride; it was brutally simple—since they’d already offended them, they were to be crushed, never to rise again.

Either hand over the grain, lose everything and flee as beggars, or refuse and face the yamen’s professional beaters, who, with their expertise, could cripple a man with one blow and send him to his death in three.

Liu Chengzong stood, smiling, and offered a fist salute to everyone in the room.

“Fine. The county office and that Captain are shrewd indeed. I always hoped for a little more time, a few good days, but they won’t allow it. So be it. You’ve all been good to us brothers. From here, let us two handle the rest—we don’t wish to drag you down.”

The crowd broke into a chorus of protest, none showing the slightest intention of leaving.

Even Liu Chengyun, the most timid of them, stepped forward and said, “Brother, when Father died in the second year of Tianqi, it was Second Uncle who raised me. For his sake, even if the sky falls, I won’t hide.”

Gao Xian was about to speak, but was pulled back by Cao Yao, that crafty old fox, who stepped forward instead. “Lion, you—”

Liu Chengzong didn’t let him sow discord, raising a hand. “Enough, Brother Cao, I understand. You’re with us.”

“It’s not me, I—”

Cao Yao hadn’t finished, but Liu Chengzong had already turned to Cài Zhongpan. “Uncle, you’re wanted everywhere. Only Yan’an Prefecture offers any peace. What about you?”

“Save it. I’m already a wanted man—what’s left to fear? Besides, if you two brothers cause a stir, our whole family’s in it together. Just one thing—”

Cài Zhongpan raised his hand. “By my count, my brother-in-law will bring your aunt back in the next few days. Stall the county office a bit, and we’ll make our escape together.”

Guo Zhasi and the others each declared their resolve in turn; none were cowards.

Even Li Wanqing thought it a good thing, eager to recruit Liu Guoneng to join in, having tasted the sweetness of grand undertakings with Liu Chengzong before.

Only Yang Yanchang hesitated.

The probationary centurion of Yan’an Garrison wrung his hands, visibly torn.

Liu Chengzong reassured him, “Brother, I won’t force you. It’s fine.”

The mood was interrupted; all eyes turned to Yang Yanchang.

His eyes were unfocused, sitting on a bench, hands braced on the table, teeth pressed to his clenched fist.

After a moment, he let his hand fall, slapped the table, and declared with righteous fervor to Liu Chengzong, “I’ll sell you swords, spears, arrows, and eight loads of ammunition—but you have to pay extra!”

Liu Chengzong couldn’t help but laugh, spreading his hands. “Which is more important, money or your life?”

Yang Yanchang seemed completely unaware of the storm he was about to join, still thinking about his arms trade.

But he was earnest. “If I weren’t broke, I’d have filled my position by now. Money is important! If I die, there’s always a next life. But if I can’t make money, I’ll die with regret!”

“Fine, you seek profit? No problem. I’ll take all your arms and munitions,” said Liu Chengzong, leaning on the table. “But you’ll have to help me smuggle them into the city.”

He then clapped Yang Yanchang on the shoulder. “I’ll pay you extra.”

Afterwards, he walked over to Liu Chengzu, placing both hands on his elder brother’s shoulders. “It’s alright, brother, don’t worry. We grew up in the yamen—I could find where they’re holding Father with my eyes closed. Don’t be angry; it’s not worth it to be upset over the walking dead. Gentlemen, let me ask you: are there any good men living in the city?”

Smack!

Cao Yao clapped his hands, nearly leaping with joy. “I’ve been itching to do something big! Lion, just now I wanted to tell you—our thunder doesn’t need a pole anymore, so your ears won’t bleed from the blast! Magnets! Ha! No iron gate in the world can stop you now—I’ve put magnets on them!”