Chapter Thirty-Two: A Challenge at the Gate

Bamboo and Timber Revenue Substation, side gate.

The Bamboo and Timber Revenue Substation was known for its strict security: over two hundred robust men guarded the perimeter walls, and even atop the parapets, patrol officers kept a vigilant watch, making it seem as though not even a sparrow could escape unnoticed.

Yet, at this moment, such defenses amounted to little more than an empty show.

As a frail man approached from a distance, a watchman perched on the wall anxiously looked around to ensure no one was observing, then quickly signaled for the gate to be opened. Once the man hurried inside, the gate was shut again, breathlessly and with great haste.

The man who had rushed in paid no heed, his head lowered as he muttered under his breath, oblivious even to someone calling out loudly behind him.

Seeing this, the watchman who had just climbed down from the wall stamped his foot in frustration, then sprinted after the man, only catching up after quickening his pace twice. Running alongside, he panted, “Master Fan, both Lord Liu and Lord Chu are in the rear hall.”

The man was none other than Fan Wenju, Chu Lushan’s aide.

At these words, Fan Wenju stopped abruptly, breathless with exasperation. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? Hurry, lead the way!”

The watchman protested, wounded. “But Master Fan, you didn’t tell me either…”

“I did! You just ignored me…” There was more he dared not say.

Fan Wenju recalled his own distraction and was left speechless for a moment. Finally, he took off running again. “Enough talk, just lead the way!”

The watchman, even more aggrieved, muttered, “It’s just this way… I only meant to let you know…”

“You… you…” Fan Wenju was so vexed he could barely breathe. Calming his agitation with effort, he ignored the irritating underling and sprinted ahead, finally reaching the rear hall where Chu Lushan and Liu Pei sat at ease, enjoying tea.

The moment he saw them, Fan Wenju exclaimed, “My lords, something terrible has happened—disaster is upon us!”

“What cause for panic?” Chu Lushan fixed his aide with an impatient glare, displeased by such loss of composure.

Liu Pei’s expression was equally sour.

But his discontent was short-lived. Liu Ji, the substation’s hearing officer, came running in, face ashen. “Disaster, sirs! Qin the Hero is attacking!”

“That’s impossible!” Liu Pei shot to his feet. “Didn’t Hou Fangyu just go to cause trouble for Qin? How could he be back so soon and attacking?”

Fan Wenju, still panting, explained, “It’s precisely because Hou Fangyu is so incompetent—Qin took control of the conversation within a few words, and after some persuasion, now he’s leading men here to attack!”

At this, both Liu Pei and Chu Lushan reeled in dismay. “That useless Hou Fangyu!”

Yet cursing Hou Fangyu could do nothing to improve the situation. With that, the two men rushed outside.

Sure enough, dense footsteps could be heard beyond the wall.

On the parapet, several patrol officers from the substation sat astride the wall, peering out.

The crowd outside had already dispersed. Only Liu Yongquan of the Wanquan Guild remained, flanked by over two hundred burly men.

As for the other disgruntled merchants, their gazes had shifted to a young man in plain attire—none other than Zhu Cilang.

At this moment, the front of the Bamboo and Timber Revenue Substation was a sea of people, voices rising in a cacophony of heated debate. Somehow, the mood was beginning to align.

“Now I see. It’s Lord Qin the Hero who wants to collect both shipping materials and bamboo and timber taxes together, to prevent corrupt officials from double-dipping and extorting bribes. But the substation’s staff—they’re not happy about it!”

“Lord Qin’s policy is truly a benevolent one. Just this alone saves us so much silver. Even just not having to deal with those skin-flaying clerks wins my admiration. But as for the substation, they must be losing out on a fortune!”

“Exactly—look, they’re blocking our water gate, trying to force Lord Qin to back down.”

“The whole substation lot are a disgrace!”

“A pack of scoundrels, the lot of them—corrupt to the core…”

“Yes, indeed…”

…

“Huff… Lord Yan… how did I do? I swear, I never sold any contraband…” Sweat streamed down Zhang Xiaonan’s face.

Before long, Luo Da retreated to the shadows as well. With a wry smile, he said, “My mouth is dry from speaking—Lord Yan, if you’re not satisfied, I’ll take a drink and go out again!”

“No need… the lord is here.” As Yan Wei spoke, his demeanor grew solemn. Watching Zhu Cilang approach with a hundred men in tow, he could not help but sigh inwardly.

Throughout history, officials have always viewed gatherings of the common people as the seed of chaos. Only our Lord Qin the Hero at the Taxation Subdivision possesses such formidable organizational skill… and such strength of character and means, keeping this explosive situation firmly in hand.

Had Zhu Cilang known of Yan Wei’s silent admiration, he would likely have dismissed it.

With a soul from the modern era hidden within him, Zhu Cilang knew that without organizational ability, one couldn’t survive even in a company. Moreover, in the rigidly stratified Ming dynasty, an official’s title was already an aura of intimidation. Add a sharp tongue, and if he couldn’t handle a crowd of country bumpkins, all his experience over two lifetimes would be for nothing.

But Zhu Cilang was not in the mood for such musings now.

He scanned the crowd for a familiar figure.

There—Old Seventeen, who had vanished all day.

Whether it was Zhu Cilang’s keen eye, or Old Seventeen’s indomitable aura that lingered even in the crowd’s shadows, Zhu Cilang spotted him quickly.

His gaze settled on Old Seventeen, who stood near the riverbank’s boats, right hand over his chest, bowing slightly.

At this, Zhu Cilang smiled faintly, clasped his hands behind his back, and stepped out from the crowd surrounding him.

By now, none of the other merchants or boat owners dared approach the substation.

Liu Yongquan, having detected a shift in the crowd’s mood, furrowed his brow and motioned for his men—who had been lounging on the ground—to stand.

He himself gripped a broadsword across his chest, the scar on his face twitching with his frown like a living centipede.

Zhu Cilang, noticing the scar as though discovering a curious toy, smiled cheerfully as he fixed his gaze upon it. Then, he strode forward, stopping ten paces from the substation’s main gate.

Soon, a clear voice rang out: “I am Qin the Hero, Director of the Linqing Division of the Ministry of Revenue. Is there no one in the entire Bamboo and Timber Revenue Substation who understands the proprieties? Send Liu Pei out to receive me at once!”