After all, roaming bandits were everywhere these days, and prominent clans commanded far stronger guards.
"Yes, some have left," Ding Zuodong said. "However, the Li clan and the Shu clan have done the exact opposite and are also buying up properties on a massive scale. They are the true bellwethers—so long as they don't leave, most people won't either."
"Seeing how we acted, they decided to take a gamble too?"
"Both clans have their wealth spread throughout Xiazhou, but Dunyu is their primary stronghold. Uprooting themselves isn't something they can easily do." To do so would shake their very foundations.
He Lingchuan sneered. "Quite the gambling streak. When a marsh dries up in the summer heat, the ones that die stranded on the mud floor are always the biggest crocodiles."
Ding Zuodong asked cautiously, "Yet they wagered correctly, didn't they?"
"This time, yes." He Lingchuan patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. News of victory from the front line will arrive soon enough. Those who placed their faith in the He family and in Dunyu deserve to be rewarded."
Ding Zuodong secretly breathed a sigh of relief, though he felt the eldest young master's words carried a deeper meaning.
"All right, tally up how much money I have left."
Upon hearing this, Ding Zuodong promptly reported the accounts, reciting every single entry without omitting a detail.
Over the past six days, he had struck out in every direction, tirelessly snapping up numerous prime assets on He Lingchuan's behalf.
He had long known what was good, what was bad, and what was toxic. Before, he had been constrained by his own poverty, but now that he was operating with someone else's money, he slashed prices ruthlessly and bought up shops and estates without hesitation.
It had been a long time since he felt so triumphant and high-spirited.
In just those few days, more than eighty thousand of He Lingchuan's hundred thousand taels of silver had been spent, over ten thousand of which had gone out today, leaving barely more than ten thousand taels on the books.
Ding Zuodong was still eager for more, itching to keep spending on the young master's behalf.
"Once Dunyu stabilizes and confidence returns, merely selling off these storefronts and estates will earn you at least double your money."
He Lingchuan shook his head. "Double is far too little."
How many mortals' entire livelihoods could a single purple-gold pestle match in worth?
"These are steady, enduring businesses," Ding Zuodong said with a smile. "The regular rental income will flow without end."
Only assets that generated an endless stream of cash flow were truly good assets.
He Lingchuan took out a slip of paper. "Since I now own a medicine shop, go gather these herbs for me and hand them over to Lingguang, the medicine ape." Now he could procure his herbs at cost price.
Thinking about it, his original motive for wanting to make money had merely been that Yin-Yang Powder burned through silver too quickly, and he feared draining his savings dry. How had things ballooned into such a massive undertaking?
Sigh, he really was making trouble for himself.
Seeing the two preparing to leave, he called out to Shan Youjun, "By the way, Jiao Tai is being released this evening. You can go fetch him." He then tossed over a token and an ingot of silver. "After spending so many days in the lockup, his injuries can hardly have improved. Take this token to Huixiang Hall to get him examined and draw medicine—put it on my tab. Pass this silver to Jiao Tai as a small token of my regard."
Shan Youjun was overjoyed, his knees going weak once more.
He Lingchuan was quick of eye and hand, catching him by the arm. "Stop kneeling. Get out of here!"
The young man had kept Jiao Tai in his thoughts, proving he had loyalty and heart; yet despite that constant concern, he had held his tongue for six days without asking, showing he possessed some restraint and savvy.
The man Sun Hongye had recruited wasn't half bad.
That night before turning in, He Lingchuan tapped the broken saber. "Remember, arrange another bout between me and Meng Shan tonight."
Sure enough, once he entered the Panlong dreamscape, he appeared directly inside the Martial Review Hall.
Over the past few days, he had sought out Meng Shan to spar with every time, which served as indirect proof that the broken saber could indeed understand his words.
He walked over to the edge of the Martial Review Hall's North Courtyard and slapped the wooden fence hard. "Meng Shan, come out!"
Meng Shan grew somewhat annoyed the moment he laid eyes on him. "Did you come here to spar, or did you come here looking to be beaten to a pulp?"
He pulverized this brat every single time—anyone else would have died four times over—so how could this guy surnamed He show up the very next day full of vigor to challenge him to a duel again?
Could the crisp cracks of splintering and snapping bones he heard each time have been illusions?
He Lingchuan's goad consisted of only three words, yet it never failed:
"Are you scared?"
Steam practically vented from Meng Shan's nostrils. Striding across the Du Building, he crossed into the South Courtyard.
The moment his hulking frame appeared, spectators from both courtyards knew there was a good show to watch. They crowded over at once, some whistling, others cheering He Lingchuan on.
To fight repeatedly and lose every time was pathetic; yet to keep fighting despite repeated defeats commanded grudging respect.
Particularly when Broken Saber's opponent was Meng Shan, a man built like a raging bear. Even the Gale Army soldiers in the North Courtyard were reluctant to spar with him.
Skinny popped out from who knew where, full of energy. "Bets are open, bets are open! Place your wagers on how long Broken Saber lasts today!"
Over the past few days, although He Lingchuan had never won, the length of time he held out grew longer every day. Skinny had capitalized on this to make a tidy fortune.
He Lingchuan joined in, tossing an ingot of silver his way. "Skinny, put me down for lasting past a quarter of an hour!" He was the one taking the beating and enduring the suffering—there was no reason he shouldn't get a piece of the winnings.
"You got it!"
"Then I bet he won't make it!" Meng Shan said with a stone face, cracking his knuckles with loud pops. "Speak up—how do you want to die today?"
He Lingchuan waved a hand. "No rush. Let me ask you a question first."
"Go ahead." Facing such a durable human sandbag, Meng Shan's temper was uncharacteristically mild.
"Have you ever sparred with General Red?"
"Of course." Otherwise, how could he have been thoroughly subdued and willingly surrendered?
"Did he defeat you easily?"
Meng Shan rolled his eyes and held up three fingers:
"Just five moves."
There was genuine pride in his voice as he added, "Some of those bastards in the North Courtyard couldn't even last two moves!"
Two Gale Army soldiers took offense at that and shouted over the fence, "That's only because you're fat!"
Mass was capital too.
He Lingchuan drew a long breath.
The path has no end—those words truly were no joke.
The road ahead was long indeed.
***
That night was clear, without wind or snow.
With heaven smiling upon them, the Zhan clan's convoy made good progress heading south. Traveling nearly forty li through the night, they finally arrived at Bu County.
Traveling alongside this convoy were nearly twenty thousand commoners, merchants, travelers, and minor nobles.
Bu County's permanent population was only seventeen thousand, so it could hardly accommodate these uninvited guests. Moreover, dawn had yet to break, and the curfew remained in effect, barring anyone from entering.
The Zhan clan negotiated under the city gates for a long time, but the unyielding gatekeeper simply refused them entry.
Thus, everyone could only pitch tents on the open ground outside the county seat to rest. Those wanting warmth found that being even a step behind meant all the firewood in the nearby woods had already been scavenged clean by others.
Fleeing disaster was like that: expect no warm welcomes, and expect no hot water along the way.
For the Zhan clan's leading figures and many of the nobles, they had never been reduced to such wretched straits in all their lives.
Yet at the thought that Dunyu, which they had just fled, would soon be engulfed in the flames of war, they still felt profoundly fortunate.
Better a miserable life than a noble death.
Fortunately, it was already early spring. Though mornings and evenings were still chilly and the snow and ice had not completely melted, it was nowhere near as brutal as the depths of winter two months earlier.
Having marched forty li, everyone was bone-tired; they could fall asleep even lying on ice and bedding upon snow.
Yet before dawn broke, two swift horses galloped in from the north. The riders pulled up beneath the city gates and shouted, "Urgent prefectural dispatch! Open the gates!"
After shouting this three times, the gate guards verified the token and opened the gates.
The commotion carried far into the distance, reaching the ears of the Dunyu refugees sleeping in their tents. Some were still groggy, but others were already whispering among themselves:
Word had arrived from Dunyu, and by urgent courier at that.
What news could it be?
Had the Xunzhou army pushed south in force?
Such talk soon reached the ears of the Zhan clan.
Another two hours passed, and at the rooster's crow announcing dawn, the gates opened.
Zhan Song, the head of the Zhan clan, immediately led his kinsmen into the city to find an inn to rest. Having slept half the night in the wilderness, they ached all over.
Naturally, the Zhan clan did not forget to send people out to inquire.
Yet just as Zhan Song and the others finished washing up and sat down to their first steamer of buns, an errand boy rushed back, shouting loudly, "A victory! We won!"
"What victory?!" Before Zhan Song could speak, a family member reprimanded the boy. "Hollering and screaming like that—where are your manners?!"
Zhan Song was anxious and paid no mind to propriety. "Speak, out with it!"
"Bu County has posted notices all over the city, and criers are publicly proclaiming the news! The new Governor-General sent an army to confront the Xunzhou forces and won consecutive smashing victories at Xinhuang, Hetao, and Lu'an! With only one thousand six hundred men, they routed over nine thousand enemy soldiers and even decapitated two enemy generals!"
The steamed bun Zhan Song was holding with his chopsticks dropped onto the table. "The notice... really says that?"
The Zhan clan broke into an uproar, everyone exclaiming, "I don't believe it!"
"How is that possible?!"
"The prefectural government is faking it to calm the populace! We must not believe this!"
Zhan Song's mind was in utter turmoil. Hearing the incessant buzzing clamor around him, he slammed his hand down on the table. "Quiet!"
With a loud thud, silence fell.
His wife tentatively asked him, "Master, what do you think?"
Zhan Song composed himself. "Send a fast horse back to gather news. Today, we will all remain in Bu County."
There was no better recourse at the moment, so the kinsmen had no ground to object, though murmurs rippled among them.
Once the others had dispersed, Zhan Song sat in the room a while longer. Feeling increasingly stifled and restless, he stepped outside for a walk.
The passersby going to and fro wore beaming smiles on their faces, which he found exceedingly grating to look upon.
Finally, he stepped into a teahouse where every table was abuzz with talk of the victory. No sooner had he found an empty table and sat down than a waiter brought over a pot of hot tea and a dish of dried fruit.
"I didn't order this."
"Compliments of the shopkeeper, one serving per table," the waiter said with a wide grin. "The north won a great victory today, holding our heads high with pride! We're just thrilled!"
"It's not the first time a battle has been won. Is all this really necessary?"
"That was two thousand against nine thousand, and they won!" The waiter slung his towel over his shoulder. "The new Governor-General really has some serious chops."
"A strong opening is fine, but let's hope he can hold the line in the battles to come."
"That's true." The waiter's smile faded into a sigh. "Who knows if the new lord Governor-General can outmaneuver that bunch of wealthy bastards in Dunyu! A massive crowd showed up outside the county today, saying they fled from Dunyu. I really don't understand it—why run away when we've won?"
"..." Zhan Song's faint smile turned utterly bitter.
Right then, firecrackers crackled and popped in the streets outside as people set them off in celebration.
One string went off here, another there, filling the entire city with festive jubilation as if it were a holiday.
The Dunyu refugees who had followed the Zhan clan's lead were equally uneasy and on edge. Notices had been posted outside the city gates as well, almost as if meant specifically for them to see.
Chapter 237