Chapter Forty: The Twenty-Sixth Year of the Wanli Era

Romance Fantástico do Fim da Dinastia Ming Gélido Névoa de Gelo 2388 words 2026-08-04 06:46:38

Page 1/3

Yun Zheng and his group, cloaked to conceal their official uniforms, had just emerged from the dense forest and stepped into the territory of Mount Fanjing when they encountered an uproarious scene. Not far ahead, a group of thugs surrounded two frail figures. One was a bald-headed monk wearing a string of prayer beads around his neck. The other was a young girl, still a child, dressed in a tattered floral jacket and simple straw sandals, her black hair hastily tied up with a single wooden chopstick.

The noon sun blazed down on the monk’s worn robe, making it gleam with a golden hue. The girl cowered behind him, her slender frame pressed against a massive camphor tree that would require several people to embrace, as if hoping the giant tree could shield her. Her clothes were ragged, her delicate face filled with terror and helplessness.

Surrounding them, a half-circle of unsavory-looking ruffians sneered with malicious grins, spewing curses like ravenous wild dogs encircling helpless prey.

“Monk, I advise you not to meddle. This girl owes the Tian family a lot of money; she’ll be their beast of burden in her next life. If you dare to defy us, I’ll break three of your legs!” one thug shouted arrogantly, brandishing an iron rod and flailing it wildly.

The monk’s face remained calm, radiating the solemnity of an enlightened man, his eyes burning with unwavering resolve. “The Buddha said all beings suffer. As one who has renounced the world, I harbor compassion. How can I stand by and watch you bully the weak?”

“Oh, still preaching to us!” spat another thug, then beckoned, “Brothers, teach this lustful bald donkey a lesson, so he knows the cost of meddling!”

At his command, a pack of scoundrels pounced like wolves, raining blows upon the monk. Yet the monk was as immovable as a mountain, steadfastly shielding the girl behind him, absorbing every strike.

The girl watched in horror, tears welling in her eyes, but she stifled her sobs and clutched the monk’s robe tightly.

The monk knew he must not fall; if he did, the girl’s fate would be far worse.

Witnessing such brazen violence in broad daylight, Yun Zheng’s brows knit in displeasure, a flicker of disgust crossing his eyes.

He turned to Jin Kaijia and said, “Jin Tumu, while repaying debts is rightful, I’ve heard of many illegal loan practices among the common folk. Capture these men and bring them before me for a thorough inquiry. If their interest exceeds the three-tenths limit decreed by the Late Emperor, send them to the authorities.”

Yun Zheng’s words were generous; everyone here was local, and it was no secret that Guizhou under the Ming dynasty was a lawless land.

Moreover, to dare assault a monk near the sacred grounds of Mount Fanjing was a brazen act of impudence. These reckless thugs were likely the pampered lackeys of some powerful local chieftain. Delivering them to the government would be tantamount to sending them home.

Page 2/3

Jin Kaijia bowed and sprang into action. His muscular frame was like a tiger among sheep, each iron fist smashing down on a thug. One by one, they fell, groaning in pain, their faces bruised and mottled purple, black, and swollen, as if dyed in an ink bath.

“Master, I am sorry you suffered…” The rescued girl, tears streaming, choked up as she addressed the battered monk. “I do not know how to repay your great kindness…”

The monk’s expression was solemn. “The Buddha’s nature is inherent; seek not outside the self. This humble monk is self-sufficient and needs no external reward. These wounds are but a part of my practice.”

Yun Zheng was a little surprised. This unassuming, ragged monk truly carried the aura of a holy man.

As the saying goes: when the cage is large, all kinds of birds can be found.

Seeing Jin Kaijia’s fierce prowess, the downed thugs were pale with fear. Yet some reckless ones, clutching their chests as if about to vomit bile, still shouted defiantly:

“You dare strike the people of Young Master Tian? Do you know who his father is? Do you know who his brother-in-law is? You’re finished! Even the provincial governor won’t save you!”

Hearing this, Yun Zheng’s eyes narrowed slightly. Suddenly, he asked sharply, “Is this the twenty-sixth year of the Wanli era?”

The thug paused, then yelled back, “So what if it is? Don’t waste my time with nonsense. What use is fear now? I’ve seen plenty of self-important officials like you; when they meet our young master, they’re all as obedient as cats and dogs.”

Since Yun Zheng and his companions’ official robes were hidden beneath their cloaks, the thug did not realize Yun Zheng was a third-rank military officer of the Ming dynasty.

Still, it was true that military officers of the Chongzhen reign had little authority over troops from the Wanli era.

Nearby, the Wusa chieftain whispered to a sharp-witted companion, “Brother, what happened in the twenty-sixth year of Wanli?”

Page 3/3

The Wumeng chieftain replied, “Nothing major happened in Guizhou that year. But the following year, the twenty-seventh year of Wanli, Yang Yinglong, the pacification commissioner of Bozhou, abandoned his plea for leniency and declared full rebellion against the court.”

In truth, the court had tried to curb the notoriously unruly Yang Yinglong in the twenty-first year of Wanli, launching a three-army campaign to strike first. But they underestimated him and were routed due to insufficient forces. Yang Yinglong then petitioned for peace, forcing the governor to concede the advantage. This cycle of fighting and truce granted Yang Yinglong six more years to amass strength.

The Yongshun chieftain pondered for a moment and quickly grasped the danger in this information:

Yang Yinglong would not rebel fully until next year. Yet they had only a hundred days to resolve the Yang problem, meaning the great battle between them would break out before the Ming imperial forces arrived.

Clearly, according to the normal historical timeline, they could not rely on the Ming military and must tackle Yang Yinglong with their own strength—a near-impossible task in the eyes of the Yongshun chieftain.

Yun Zheng then ordered loudly, “Jin Tumu, pick the most cowardly one from these men.”

Jin Kaijia seized a trembling, gaunt thug who shook like a leaf. Yun Zheng then addressed the loud-mouthed thug who had been shouting earlier.

“I am going to ask you both questions. I ask, you answer. If you answer slower than him, I will gouge out your liver and heart to make a hangover cure.”

As he spoke, Yun Zheng casually drew a piece of silver from his pouch and, with his pinky, made a ‘gouging’ motion on it, scraping off a thin layer of silver flakes.

The thug instantly felt as if a sharp blade had carved into his chest; his heart tightened, and his face turned ashen with fear.

That loudmouth thug was clearly favored by Young Master Tian and probably knew more than the others. Yet Yun Zheng made the other thug answer alongside him to weaken his resistance, knowing the danger of betrayal.

“First question,” Yun Zheng said: “Has Yang Yinglong declared himself emperor?”