Chapter Fourteen: Suppressing the Bandits

The Li family quickly disappeared behind the trees.

Near the wishing pool, everything fell silent. Only faint splashing sounds could be heard from the water. After a while, even those faded away.

At that moment, a head emerged from the trees.

After confirming once more that the Li family was truly gone, he dashed to the edge of the pool. He reached out to the girl whose face was turning blue and purple, who was already beginning to sink but still clung desperately to another person, refusing to let go. “Here, grab my hand!”

...

Yancheng, the Governor Mu’s Residence

Mu Chengyao stepped into the Governor's study, stopped in front of the desk, and saluted crisply, “Commander!”

“Governor Mu” was the title outsiders used. Those who had followed him for years were accustomed to calling him “Commander.”

Governor Mu, dressed in a long robe, was bent over his work. To those who didn’t know him, it would be impossible to imagine that this gentle-looking, gaunt old man was a warlord who wielded immense military power and ruled a vast territory.

He set down his pen and smiled, motioning for Mu Chengyao to dispense with the formalities. “Chengyao, you’re here. Come over.” He handed over a telegram he had just finished reading.

Mu Chengyao ran his eyes swiftly over the telegram and immediately understood why he had been summoned.

He said nothing, simply placed the telegram back on the desk and waited for the Governor’s instructions.

Governor Mu ran a hand over his head. “That old fat Song is truly shameless. There’s a bandit problem in his territory and he does nothing. He waits until things get out of hand and then drives these murderous, thieving scoundrels into our lands. He’s got it all figured out—wants to profit from the chaos without losing any of his own men.”

Though the Governor seemed furious, both men in the study knew it was just a show. He and Song had spent half their lives locked in rivalry, and both had played their share of tricks to profit at the other’s expense. This was just business as usual.

In these times, anyone with a bit of skill set up their own fiefdom. Even a small-time warlord with a few hundred men and a village could call himself “General.” It was common for a county to see three or four “generals” in a month, leading to a situation where ordinary people didn’t even know whose territory they belonged to.

There was once a joke: a small town held strategic importance and was constantly under attack. Every time a warlord seized it, the local gentry would require every household to hang banners welcoming the new overlord.

But banners cost money, as did ink and hiring someone to write them. The constant swapping of banners became too much for the townsfolk. So, a clever man invented a reversible wooden sign with welcome slogans on both sides—flip it to whichever side matched the victor. It was convenient and economical, and soon everyone did the same.

When the warlord entered and saw welcome signs everywhere, he was delighted—until a gust of wind flipped a sign, revealing a greeting for his rival.

What an awkward situation!

While the people didn’t know much about minor warlords, the names of figures like the Commander and Governor Song were well known.

The Mu and Song territories bordered each other. Commander Mu controlled two provinces and ruled from Yancheng; under his governance, people lived in relative peace, and any bandit issues were quickly suppressed. Travelers need not fear being kidnapped.

Governor Song, on the other hand, was greedy, with endless schemes to extract wealth, leaving his people miserable. Many were driven to banditry, and tales of wealthy men waking up in bandit dens were common in the newspapers.

Governor Song was mockingly dubbed “the Lord of Greed” in the press—not just for his heavy-handed taxes, but also for his practice of allowing bandit gangs to flourish, only to later “crack down” on them after they had grown fat with loot, thus enriching himself and earning both money and acclaim.

By rights, Governor Song should not have been a match for Commander Mu. But he was generous with his men, and the Song Army was well-equipped and fiercely loyal. With his iron-fisted rule, Song was able to hold his own against Mu.

Both men eyed each other with suspicion, engaging in countless small skirmishes over the years, each waiting for the other to show weakness and provide an opportunity to strike.

The telegram’s report—“Bandit Liu has entered Tongcheng”—was just one of Governor Song’s many tricks.

Liu was an infamous bandit who had committed a string of crimes in Song’s territory: eight kidnappings, all of wealthy or prominent individuals. The first few families, afraid of reprisals, settled matters privately, so the incidents were not widely known. Emboldened, Liu targeted a wealthy household for a home invasion. When the guards resisted, he flew into a rage and ordered the entire family slaughtered.

The nation was outraged. Newspapers across the country reported on the atrocity, and Liu's name became infamous.

Rather than lying low, Liu grew even more brazen, fleeing from place to place, demanding ever-higher ransoms, sometimes killing hostages even after payment if he was in a foul mood. Yet the ransoms had to be paid—if not, the entire family could become targets.

Liu’s threat was clear: refuse to pay, and your entire family would be killed.

Even if one could hire the police for short-term protection, could they guard you for life? Should all the younger generations never leave the house? With a pair of ruthless eyes lurking in the dark, what politician or merchant wouldn’t be terrified? They scrambled to gather ransom money, not daring to ask even a single question about their loved ones’ safety.

Liu’s reign of terror left the elite in constant fear. They begged Governor Song to rid the world of this scourge, while the newspapers condemned Song’s inaction.

As Liu’s crimes brought him great wealth, Governor Song finally issued a nationwide statement, lamenting that such a brutal villain had run rampant in his territory due to his own negligence. To prevent further chaos, he offered to deploy troops and restore peace.

From the moment Liu’s name resounded across the country, Governor Song kept a close watch on his movements. When the time was right, he swiftly dispatched troops to strike at Liu’s stronghold. Liu and his men fled in panic, leaving their treasures behind.

Governor Song seized Liu’s loot and ordered his men to pursue the bandit—but not to annihilate him, merely to chase him like a cat toying with a mouse, until the infamous criminal was driven across the border into Commander Mu’s territory.

Now that Liu had entered Tongcheng—Mu’s lands—Song’s soldiers could not pursue any further. The task of eliminating the bandit now fell to Commander Mu.

As commander of the Third Division and deputy to the Governor, Mu Chengyao was well aware of all these machinations. Though Governor Mu had yet to say so outright, his presence here made his attitude clear.

Mu Chengyao stood at attention and saluted. “Commander, please give the order!”

The old man looked at the tall, striking young officer before him with satisfaction. This was the protégé he had personally mentored, and he was turning out better than ever.

He rose, walked around the desk, and patted the younger man’s shoulder. “Good lad. Go and crush this Liu in Tongcheng. We’re not like that greedy fat Song who has no scruples. Now that he’s in our land, even a dragon must crawl; as for this little worm, he’s nothing at all.”

Though he spoke gently and with a smile, the words were laced with murderous intent. Only at such moments did people remember that this kindly old man had emerged from mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

Mu Chengyao clicked his boots together, his voice steady and resolute. “I guarantee completion of the mission.”

“Go, make your preparations. Tongcheng isn’t far, but it’ll still take a few days. Say goodbye to your mother before you leave, so she won’t worry.”

The Governor spoke as if Liu was of no consequence, as though this feared bandit was nothing more than an ant to be crushed at will.

With business concluded, Mu Chengyao relaxed a little. “My mother has gone to Qianyun Temple to pray and may stay there a few days. I’ll leave early and return soon, so as not to delay.”

The Governor waved his acknowledgment.

Mu Chengyao wasted no time; after taking his leave, he walked out of the study and saw Mu Fusheng waiting by the door. With an impassive face, he addressed him as “young master” and prepared to go.

“Stop! Did I say you could leave?” Mu Fusheng had always loathed Mu Chengyao.

As the Governor’s only son, Mu Fusheng had been raised with every privilege. Even the old comrades who had fought alongside his father showed him great respect. But after returning from years abroad, he found his father’s side occupied by Mu Chengyao.

Not only had the Governor made Mu Chengyao commander of the Third Division, but he had also appointed him as his deputy, training him almost as an heir. It was unheard of—like holding both the post of a provincial governor and imperial chamberlain at once, privileges even an emperor’s son could not expect.

The Governor had often publicly sighed that if only Mu Chengyao were his own son! Even the old veterans treated him like a brother.

Had Mu Fusheng not been certain he was his father’s only child, he’d have suspected Mu Chengyao was some illegitimate offspring.

Given all this, it was no wonder Mu Fusheng couldn’t stomach Mu Chengyao. Worse still, Mu Chengyao always wore a stony expression, looking at Mu Fusheng as if to say, “Go on, throw your little tantrum.” Nothing could be more infuriating.

“If you have something to say, say it. If not, I have a mission to carry out.” Mu Chengyao placed his cap squarely on his head, expressionless as he looked at Mu Fusheng.

Say what you need to, otherwise don’t waste my time!

Mu Fusheng could practically read these words on Mu Chengyao’s face. Fury rose in his chest, veins bulging at his neck as his face twisted with rage, like a demon about to roar. He stepped forward, ready to grab Mu Chengyao’s collar, but suddenly paused, as if recalling something. His expression smoothed, his face returning to normal.

Instead of grabbing him, Mu Fusheng brushed the wrinkles from his own shirt, a smile on his lips. “Deputy Mu, with your outstanding abilities, it’s only right that you shoulder more of Father’s burdens. Let me thank you on his behalf.”

Mu Chengyao, as if he hadn’t noticed the shift in Mu Fusheng’s demeanor, didn’t even raise his eyelids. “It is our duty as subordinates to ease the Commander’s burdens.”

Mu Fusheng was about to reply when the study door suddenly opened. “What are you two whispering about out here? If you have business, speak up. What’s with all this nonsense between grown men?”

Mu Fusheng stepped back and quickly smiled. “Father, we were just discussing the bandit suppression campaign. I’d like to ask Deputy Mu to take me along. The situation is relatively stable right now, with few battles to fight. I’ve heard this bandit is particularly vicious and cunning. I’d like to test myself against him and gain some combat experience.”

The Commander considered this. “Very well. The things you learned in Japan should be put to use on the battlefield. Chengyao has fought with me all over the country and handled most of the bandit problems in our territory—you’ll learn a lot from him. Chengyao, I’m entrusting my son to you.”

Mu Chengyao, face cold, replied, “Rest assured, Commander.”

The old man nodded, then turned to his son. “I’ll assign you two battalions of the Guard. Follow Chengyao closely and obey his orders.”

The corners of Mu Fusheng’s mouth, which had been curling up, immediately drooped. Seeing his father’s stern gaze, he straightened at once. “Yes, sir.”