Chapter 108: Gou Family Manor (Part 2)

A guide was quickly found: a local peddler. Gou Manor was not Mordor—aside from the Gou family's demon-like households, most residents were ordinary people who needed needles, thread, and sundries. Where there was demand, there was supply. Of course, trading in Gou Manor required courage. Bad luck meant getting robbed by former professional criminals turned household guards, maybe even beaten.

Lin Quan'an was among the rare peddlers willing to trade at Gou Manor. His reasoning was simple: with almost no competitors, prices were higher and demand stronger. This marked Lin Quan'an as quite brave—he had also been the first to sell at Bairren Fortress's free market.

Bairren Fortress's urban planning had long included a plot for a free market, but no one had come to trade. Lin Quan'an, while peddling from village to village, learned that the short-haired pirates had announced that anyone wanting to trade or work at Bairren Rapids was welcome. This did not have an immediate effect, but it planted ideas in Lin Quan'an's head. He specifically sought out returned laborers, questioning them thoroughly about conditions there. His conclusion was straightforward: these short-hairs would not be leaving anytime soon. The simple reason? They were frantically building houses—clearly planning to settle permanently. Permanent settlement meant many needs. Tremendous business opportunities.

Lin Quan'an decided to test the waters. He prepared carefully beforehand. His goods: a load of vegetables. Being a vegetable peddler in Lingao was unpromising—beyond county-seat demand, every rural household grew their own. No one bought vegetables. But these short-hairs had come by sea, and you cannot grow vegetables on ships. People could skip meat but not vegetables—at minimum, they would get constipated. Second, if they proved to be unreasonable robbers, he would only lose vegetables. As for forced labor—if they had already released so many prisoners, why would they grab him?

He carried his vegetables all the way to Bairren Free Market. The vast open space was empty except for him. While he waited anxiously, Wu Nanhai came out upon hearing the news and, without a word, bought the entire load to improve the cafeteria fare. Lin Quan'an was overjoyed. Not only did these short-hairs need vegetables, but they were generous—seemingly treating copper coins as worthless. They casually tossed him two hundred wen without even counting. And these were not worthless sand-cast coins that shattered when dropped—all were bright Wanli-reign coins! In truth, even if Lin Quan'an had brought a load of dirt, they would have bought it. This was about setting an example.

Gradually, Lin Quan'an became the transmigrators' exclusive vegetable supplier, recently also providing live pigs, chickens, ducks, and eggs. Demand was staggeringly high. Ancients consumed little animal protein; livestock and poultry were rarely eaten. Unlike these five hundred otaku who ate meat every meal with daily egg allowances. Prices immediately soared. All nearby farmers were already planning to raise more chickens, ducks, and pigs next year.

Lin Quan'an had prospered. His carrying-pole became a pushcart; he was about to hire helpers and get a cart-and-horse when Lord Wu came seeking him—he wanted Lin Quan'an to guide them to Gou Manor. With Lin Quan'an's intelligence, he knew short-hairs going to Gou Manor meant "a weasel paying respects to chickens—no good intentions." Though he liked money, getting caught between two gangster groups would not end well. He immediately declined. But Lord Wu hinted that cafeteria purchasing prices seemed a bit high lately. When Lin Quan'an tried to settle accounts and leave, he discovered many competitors hovering at the gate—the power of example was indeed limitless.

To protect his monopoly, Lin Quan'an had to take the risk. But before departure, he declared clearly: he would only guide, nothing else. Wu De readily agreed.

The team included the uninvited Wang Ruixiang. Reconnaissance had nothing to do with his specialty—his self-proclaimed title was Chief Designer of the "Wang Weapons Design Bureau," though in reality he was just an errand boy in the Machinery Group. His insistence on joining had two reasons: first, he had lugged a large model airplane and a remote-control helicopter across the wormhole, still unused; second, as a deeply hidden nationalist, he distrusted this "ABC" Xue, believing his loyalty was questionable and defection inevitable. He had to monitor this dangerous element. If any betrayal occurred, his climbing axe would settle things.

Xue Ziliang did not realize such malicious intentions lurked nearby. Though using model aircraft for reconnaissance against opponents of Landlord Gou's caliber seemed like overkill, trying would not hurt. He agreed to let the axe-wielder join.

This reconnaissance was undercover. Everyone changed into local cloth clothing and wore head-kerchiefs. To hide their unusual haircuts, they wore conical hats. They carried baskets containing weapons and equipment plus Lin Quan'an's trade goods—needles, thread, sundries. Before departure, everyone rubbed dirt on their faces to look less clean and pale. The transmigrators differed notably from locals in their generally paler skin. Five or six people, disguised as common peddlers, slowly made their way toward Gaoshan Ridge.

Bypassing the county seat, after barely ten li, they reached Dongchun Village at the foot of Piye Mountain. This thousand-year-old village had been settled since the Han Dynasty. A few dozen households remained—unsafe times meant even this small village had built a man-high earth wall. A roadside tea stall sold rough tea and dry provisions. Hearing from the guide that over ten li of mountain road lay ahead, Xue Ziliang decided to rest briefly—everyone would gather strength before continuing.

Fearing infectious diseases, transmigrators never consumed locally prepared food. The Medical Group had repeatedly warned them: typhoid was extremely prevalent here. Everyone drank from their own bamboo canteens. Lin Quan'an, having no such concerns, was used to these short-hairs' obsessive cleanliness—he was not surprised. While resting, he quietly explained the upcoming details.

From here into the mountains, it was another ten-plus li to Gou Manor. This road led directly there—few travelers besides residents and peddlers like himself. Gou family militia patrolled constantly, questioning strangers. This was partly to guard against enemies, partly because they had monopolized all mountain products. Woodcutters, hunters, timber merchants—all had to pay them. No unauthorized harvesting or hunting.

He warned the scouts: if the baskets contained anything unusual, they had better hide it now. If guards found anything suspicious during searches and took them to the manor for questioning—that would not end well.

Xue Ziliang conferred with his teammates. They reorganized into single file: Ye Mengyan as point man, Xue Ziliang second for cover, others following sequentially. Lin Quan'an was kept third by the menacing Wang Ruixiang. Seeing these short-hairs suddenly turn murderous, Lin Quan'an was terrified.

"Don't worry—just keep guiding!" Xue Ziliang flashed his gleaming white teeth in a sinister smile. Beside him, Wang Ruixiang felt a start—realizing that if he actually tried to chop this ABC, he probably would not be a match.

"Listen up: our mission is reconnaissance of enemy defenses. If possible, capture a prisoner. No unnecessary conflicts—but if firefights occur, be clean and efficient!" He surveyed these young men. "Don't use guns casually—use your knives!"

Everyone felt a jolt. Killing—their first time for this business. Somewhat unsettling. But training had drilled into them: war was life-or-death. No room for mercy.

In formation, they headed into the mountains. Piye Mountain was Lingao's famous peak—close to the county seat, a local scenic spot. The name "Piye" came from a Han Dynasty Brahmin monk. The mountain had six ridges; Gaoshan Ridge was the second-highest peak, with a temple to Gaoshan's Piye deity. The so-called Gaoshan Ridge derived from this temple. Before the temple lay serene Mirror Lake—clear water, calm as glass. Picturesque scenery. But this group had murder and plunder on their minds—no mood for sightseeing.

They encountered few passersby—just hurrying villagers. The legendary Gou family professional criminals did not appear. Saved them the trouble of killing early. The recon team rounded a small mountain and walked seven or eight li. In the distance, below the main peak, they saw a small hill covered with dense buildings. Lin Quan'an said that was Gou Manor. The valley below contained fields.

Three or four li from the manor, Xue Ziliang led the team into a grove.

Through binoculars, he observed the terrain: the manor was built against the mountain, surrounded by tall, sturdy earthen walls. The wooden gate was flanked by watchtowers on each wall section. The road ended at the manor. No moat, but many barriers and chevaux-de-frise. Cold-weapon infantry assaulting these walls would find it somewhat difficult.

After noting wall height, tower positions, and sentry locations on his map, Xue Ziliang decided to personally enter for a look. No matter how reconnaissance technology advanced, on-site reconnaissance remained the most reliable intelligence source.

He turned and ordered Lin Quan'an to take him inside. This command terrified the peddler. Guiding was one thing—taking this hulking short-hair killer into Gou Manor? If anything happened, both of Lingao's major gangster groups would not spare him. He was about to kneel and beg when Wang Ruixiang drew his hatchet. The gleaming blade flashed before his face as Wang asked whether he preferred "plank-chopped noodles" or "wonton noodles." True pirate nature. He meekly stood up.

"Listen—I can speak Hokkien!" Xue Ziliang said. "Tell them I'm your fellow townsman, helping you out."

(End of Chapter)