Chapter 716 - Sanliang Market's Preparations
The managers were dumbstruck. Given the Luo family's origins as local toughs, even as gentry, the family heads had always been ruthless and cunning. Luo Tianqiu was no exception. In disputes over land, he had secretly ordered men to kill opponents more than once. As for running a private jail and torturing a few mud-legs—that was nothing. For dozens of li around, everyone knew the Luo family's Interrogation Station was a "Palace of Yama" and a "Second Yamen."
"Master! Isn't this letting them off too easy?" The west wing manager Fan Jin stammered. "Won't this damage our Luo family's authority..."
"When I say release them, release them. Are you the master or am I?"
"I wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare." Fan Jin saw Luo Tianqiu's expressionless face—knowing the calmer he was, the more likely he was to erupt—and hurried off to release prisoners.
Shortly, over a hundred people were released from the Interrogation Station. The number was truly excessive. Luo Tianqiu said nothing, but he knew many had been privately seized by his subordinates. His capable managers and attendants were all lawless in this regard—some ran private loan operations, some ran gambling dens, some manipulated lawsuits. None were good people. Luo Tianqiu had always followed the principle of eating the meat himself while letting underlings drink the soup. As long as they did not cause deaths, he let them be. Sometimes when matters reached the yamen, he would personally deliver calling cards and bond-guarantees to protect his servants. Before, he had not thought anything of this—who feared a few mud-legs making trouble? Officials were people he could handle; mud-legs with no money or power could not win a lawsuit in a hundred years. Even in famine years when riots broke out, he was not afraid—he had over a hundred guards, plus the Sanliang Market militia. He could suppress small-scale rebellions himself; for larger ones, he would lock the gates, and mud-legs could not break in before government troops crushed them.
But now these Australians had come. He had heard much about them at the county seat. They were neither soft nor hard, immune to bribery, could take cities and fortresses effortlessly, and were especially skilled at "recruiting traitors." The Luo family had accumulated countless grievances over the years—if some reckless traitor incited the Australians to attack Sanliang Market, there would be trouble.
This thought made him reveal an unhappy expression. He even felt the ground beneath his feet was shaking. Yet he could not make a scene or take action now. After all, his family had operated this way for a century—like master, like servant. This much Luo Tianqiu understood clearly.
Thinking this, he hated the crop-heads even more. They were like a violent hurricane, shaking the edifice his family had built over generations. And the people inside that edifice probably had other ideas—at the slightest disturbance, they would all flee.
Seeing most prisoners had left, the guards were cleaning up. Suddenly, outside came angry shouts and curses mixed with a woman's voice:
"...What right do you have to arrest people..."
Luo Tianqiu was about to send someone to investigate when the west wing gates burst open, flooding with people. Twenty-odd guards and militia, all armed with swords, spears, and clubs, glared menacingly. Some led horses; others carried loads. In the center, four or five captives were being pushed along—clothes torn, some with blood on their faces.
Their leader was a man of about fifty, neither tall nor strong but sharp-looking. Despite being shoved and pushed, his stance was extremely steady—clearly a martial artist. Only his sallow complexion and labored breathing suggested illness.
Supporting him was a young woman, quite attractive, wearing the close-fitting jacket and narrow skirt ordinary women did not wear. Her clothes had been torn in places, revealing an inner garment with dense stitching—Luo Tianqiu knew women traveling long distances sewed their undergarments shut to prevent assault. Several other men and women were also dressed for travel and looked capable. Seeing they had horses, weapons, and equipment, Luo Tianqiu understood—traveling performers.
Luo Baiwei, the guards' captain, had not expected to find the master in the west wing and was momentarily startled. He hastily knelt to pay respects.
"What's this about?"
"Reporting to the Master!" Luo Baiwei stood. "These are traveling performers staying at the inn! Two months ago the old man fell ill, spent all their money, and pawned their horse and belongings at our moneylender for four taels of silver. They agreed to repay within two months but haven't paid a single coin..."
"That's a lie!" The young woman raged. "We paid off the principal long ago! You keep changing your calculation—we pay our earnings every day, you always say it's not enough, and the debt keeps growing..."
"Still talking back!" Luo Baiwei bellowed. His forehead was bruised—he had taken some hits. "Wait till I strip you naked for questioning!"
Frightened by "strip you naked for questioning," the woman softened but remained defiant: "In broad daylight, you'd violate my honor! The officials may tolerate you but Heaven won't!"
Because the master was present, Luo Baiwei could not curse or beat her. He told Luo Tianqiu that since they could not repay the interest, the horse and belongings should be forfeited as collateral. But these performers refused to yield. This morning they had tried to sneak away. The militia at the gates discovered them, fought them, and finally subdued and brought them here.
"...Won't pay debts, try to flee, and fight back when caught! That's why I brought them here—to teach them some manners!" Luo Baiwei said.
Luo Tianqiu knew the real story: the moneylender had played tricks to fleece outsiders. That Mongolian horse alone was worth sixty or seventy taels in Guangdong—nothing unusual about such predatory exploitation. He never interfered in such matters. But today he had already shown great mercy; no harm in showing more.
"Release them." Luo Tianqiu said expressionlessly.
"Master—" Luo Baiwei glanced at Luo Tianqiu but knew the master hated repeating himself. He gestured for the captives to be untied.
Luo Baiwei was reluctant to give up: "The horse stays."
"That horse is their livelihood. Return it." Luo Tianqiu said. "Since the principal's paid, forget the interest!"
His subordinates were dumbstruck. Had the master taken the wrong medicine? Such mercy today—when in the past he had personally confiscated land and sealed houses, dragging rent-dodging tenants and their families to the Interrogation Station for torture, beating several to death or crippling them.
Just as everyone was astonished, the woman suddenly screamed. The old man, once untied and his blood flowing again, had fainted.
"Father—" "Master—"
The group rushed to the collapsed old man, crying and shouting.
"Enough!" Luo Baiwei grew furious and moved to strike.
"Stop!" Luo Tianqiu halted him, looking thoughtfully at these people.
Leaving the west wing, Luo Tianqiu went to the town's Militia Public Bureau to inspect weapons and training. If the Great Ming had a "Grassroots Militia Construction Evaluation Campaign," Sanliang Market would certainly win first place in Dongguan County.
According to the Governor-General's yamen directive on "Strengthening Provincial Militia Construction," the Governor's instructions on "Provincial Militia Guidelines," and the County's "Militia Construction Outline," Sanliang Market's militia development led the entire county.
The drilling militia numbered 300. Adding household guards from major families, over 500 could fight at any time. They drilled daily and received one tael monthly—inexperienced but high in morale.
Beyond these, if necessary, all males aged 16-60 could be armed—several hundred more for defense. The Bureau had stockpiled weapons; the blacksmith continued forging more.
Sanliang Market had purchased cannons from the county. Finding them poor quality and overpriced, Luo Tianqiu bought iron and had local smiths cast their own—forty to fifty cannons of various sizes, mounted on the walls. They had also made muskets. Near Macau, Luo Tianqiu had even obtained Portuguese matchlocks through Guangzhou.
Only armor was lacking—prohibited items even the Luo family dared not stockpile. But Luo Tianqiu did not care. In this water-networked terrain, armor was more hindrance than help.
As for trenches, palisades, and walls, Sanliang Market had long prepared them, constantly repairing and reinforcing. With funds from the whole town, they had built four sturdy blockhouses—stone bases to prevent tunneling, brick upper floors, minimal wood except at the top. Each had wells, stored grain, weapons, and gunpowder. They could observe and bombard attackers from above; if the town fell, survivors could take refuge inside and continue resisting.
Luo Tianqiu had organized mutual-defense agreements with nearby villages. With Sanliang Market's strength, neighboring villages were glad to ally. Ten-odd villages joined the "mutual defense"—if trouble came, thousands could be assembled.
Though not impregnable, this made Sanliang Market among the county's best-defended. At the Bureau, Luo Tianqiu spoke with the gentry committee members, met the militia leaders, and said encouraging words. Finally he met privately with Luo Heying, telling him to report to the county tomorrow to command militia.
Though everything seemed in order, one thing worried Luo Tianqiu: few men could actually lead militia in battle. The Bureau had hired an instructor, but he had died suddenly of illness last month. No replacement had been found. Some gentry sons could fight, but none had real combat experience—fighting ability alone was not enough to command militia. The militia captains were mostly household servants—not necessarily skilled.
"We offered eighteen taels monthly, but everyone who came failed the archery test. All worthless rice-buckets." Bureau Committee Member Yuan Kaibang sighed.
Serving as militia instructor required not just combat ability but mastery of various weapons—especially sabers and archery. Militia did not need battlefield formations; they needed close-quarters fighting and defense. Archery was their primary weapon.
But ordinary martial artists might handle blades but lacked archery skills. Even experienced escorts mainly used light bows or slingshots—rarely proficient with infantry longbows. After months of recruiting, no one suitable had been found.
"Are those people still here?"
"All waiting at the inn for your decision, sir." Yuan Kaibang blinked his small eyes. "You said we're short-handed—even if they're imperfect, we should keep them."
Luo Tianqiu said: "Anyone with real skill, hire them. Eight taels monthly, room and board from the Bureau."
"Done—just so."
"Good, good." The other committee members echoed. They had long followed the Luo family's lead. With the crop-head threat imminent, everyone was counting on Luo Tianqiu as their "pillar of strength."
Next Luo Tianqiu discussed Bureau expenses. Maintaining militia, manufacturing and purchasing weapons and gunpowder, constructing fortifications—all required huge outlays. The county's militia levy did not leave much for the town itself. So Luo Tianqiu proposed an additional militia fee.
The committee members exchanged glances. The county's three fen per mu was already heavy; more extraction made them wince. But no one dared oppose Luo Tianqiu.
Seeing their pained-but-silent expressions, Luo Tianqiu snorted: "You think I'm collecting this for me? Who owns this Sanliang Market? Militia must be fed to fight. One tael a month—you wouldn't take the field for that. Once the crop-heads actually come, ten taels won't get men to fight. Mud-legs have just one worthless life; you gentlemen have families and property. Once the walls fall, everything turns to ash. Which calculation makes more sense?"
No one dared speak. He was right. But endless "donations" since last year had tightened everyone's purse strings. That was why Luo Tianqiu dispensed with "soliciting donations" and simply levied directly on land.
Finally the magnates agreed: throughout Sanliang Market, every mu of land would be assessed militia fees—80 cash for top-grade, 40 for middle-grade, 20 for bottom-grade.
(End of Chapter)