Chapter 972 - Inside and Outside the Estate
Summer brought frequent thunderstorms. The morning sky had been clear and cloudless, but after noon, it gradually darkened. Black clouds massed along the horizon, and wind carrying the smell of sun-baked earth grew fiercer by the moment, bearing a whiff of rain. A major storm was clearly imminent.
Min Zhanlian stood in the courtyard with hands clasped behind his back, watching the roiling black clouds along the horizon and the faint flashes of lightning. He seemed lost in contemplation. Three dark figures appeared silently behind him.
"Speak."
"Your subordinates have confirmed—that Daoist Zhang is staying at the Zhuang household in Dadianzhang."
"The Zhuangs are local gentry. The head of the household is Zhuang Qian, who recently retired from the capital and returned home."
"The Daoist Zhang went to treat Zhuang Qian's illness. Though the illness is mostly cured now, he's been staying with his disciples at the Zhuang residence under the pretext that the patient needs further convalescence."
"The Zhuang family treats him with great courtesy. The Daoist has also been cultivating goodwill inside—everyone high and low calls him a 'living immortal.' He appears to plan on staying long-term."
Min Zhanlian listened in silence. Finally he asked: "If we need to go in and kill him, can it be done?"
All three answered in unison: "It cannot."
"Dadianzhang is a fortified compound."
"There are over three hundred militiamen inside, with four martial arts instructors hired—all skilled with spear, staff, and bow."
"Entering the Zhuang residence requires passing through two rings of fortifications, each guarded by militia and retainers. Day and night watches—extremely strict security."
Merely infiltrating a target's residence to carry out an assassination posed no great difficulty for Min Zhanlian. But with the target residing inside a rural stronghold's fortified compound, penetration became far harder than breaking into an ordinary residence—even the grand mansions of high officials or wealthy gentry.
So-called grand mansions meant slightly higher walls and larger buildings, but their defensive capability remained relatively weak. Besides a few courtyard guards patrolling and night watchmen making rounds along the walls, there was little else. With Min Zhanlian's skills, subduing or evading a few guards and watchmen presented no difficulty.
But a fortified compound was essentially a miniature castle. No matter how skilled a jianghu master, once the gates were sealed, there was nothing to be done. Though Min Zhanlian was young, he had spent many years in the jianghu. No matter how important a figure in the jianghu, none would openly draw blades and fight in a city in broad daylight. As for the many so-called "expert" cat burglars and bandits, if they were a step too slow in fleeing and the city gates closed with them trapped inside, they would fall into the hands of soldiers and constables.
Once a fortified compound closed its gates at night, lanterns and torches blazed along the walls while militiamen patrolled in groups. Finding an opportunity to subdue them secretly proved exceedingly difficult. Even the most skilled cat burglars might fail to infiltrate successfully.
Three hundred regularly drilled militiamen and retainers, all equipped with long spears and powerful bows—if the alarm was raised and fighting broke out, even with all of Min Zhanlian's team, even if you gathered the most famous "heroes" and "devils" of the jianghu together, they might not prove a match for the militia.
Of course, if they absolutely had to try, it wasn't impossible—but people would probably die in the attempt.
Min Zhanlian knew his subordinates well. Like him, they prioritized caution in everything. Killing was for money—if you died, no amount of silver would help.
Min Zhanlian mused. This was truly difficult.
Solutions existed, of course. The simplest would be to send a message claiming a wealthy household in the city had a medical emergency requiring his presence. They could intercept and kill him en route.
The problem was that this approach lacked the element of "divine retribution." Min Zhanlian had prepared several "divine retribution" methods for sending Master Daoquan on his way, but none could be implemented on a main road.
Simply killing him wouldn't meet the client's requirements. Receiving less payment was one thing, but the blow to his reputation would be significant.
"I need more detailed information. Where exactly does he stay, what's the environment like, what time does he usually wake and sleep, what items does he carry..."
"This subordinate cannot accomplish that."
"Oh." Min Zhanlian was taken aback. His three scouts had cooperated with him for years—he rarely heard them say "cannot." "Why?"
"Dadianzhang doesn't permit strangers inside. Entry requires a local guarantor. To stay overnight requires three households to jointly guarantee."
Because southern Shandong had suffered constant natural and man-made disasters in recent years, every fortified compound maintained vigilance far stricter than county or prefectural cities.
The information they had gathered so far had all come from the market streets outside the compound. Details about the internal workings of the Zhuang household within Dadianzhang remained very difficult to obtain.
Wanting to enter Dadianzhang—whether openly or by stealth—presented enormous difficulties for the scouts without an inside contact. They didn't even know which direction the Zhuang residence's main gate faced.
"Go for now. Continue gathering information."
"Yes!" The three shadows vanished from beneath the eaves in an instant.
Min Zhanlian stood silent for a moment, then said in a low voice: "I didn't draw any talismans or chant any incantations—how did you just appear?"
"I'm not some little demon—seeing you at your wit's end, how could I not come?" A sweet voice echoed through the courtyard, mingling with the rolling thunder and wind from the sky—unspeakably eerie.
Min Zhanlian said: "You've given us a difficult problem." He smiled bitterly. "Taking advantage of us being on unfamiliar ground."
"This kind of thing is child's play for our sect." The girl's voice seemed to orbit around the courtyard, making it impossible to pinpoint her location. Min Zhanlian immediately grew alert. Though he knew she was merely showing off and probably meant him no harm, he still gripped his sword hilt, ready to draw at any moment.
"Don't be nervous." A giggle rang out again. "Our sect has much use for your services..."
Zhang Yingchen glanced out the window at the courtyard. Mingqing and the two young apprentices were outside collecting drying medicinal materials. The air carried the smell of an imminent storm. Near and far, voices could be heard calling: "Rain's coming, lower the shutters!" and "Pack things up!"
He touched the satchel on his body and strolled into the courtyard. He called to Mingqing:
"I'm going to take Master Zhuang's pulse at the main house now. You and your junior brothers finish packing up and go inside. Don't wander around!" After giving these instructions, he made his way toward the main house through the corridor.
Since arriving at the Zhuang household in Dadianzhang, he felt much more at ease—at least he slept more soundly at night. But he wasn't entirely without worries, and had made certain emergency preparations with items at hand.
Zhang Yingchen had brought an emergency kit to southern Shandong—a standardized configuration developed after multiple reviews. A small nylon waterproof bag containing: backup ammunition for the pistol—one magazine, twenty-four rounds; one offensive grenade; two hand-held flare launchers produced in Lingao; one dose of coca-leaf-extracted "energy stimulant"; and a cigarette-box-sized waterproof medicine case. Inside were penicillin V potassium tablets, norfloxacin, diphenhydramine, acetaminophen, nitroglycerin, domperidone, potassium permanganate, gauze, bandages, a surgical scalpel, and needle and thread. In the nylon bag's hidden compartment was also a gold leaf, as emergency funds.
The small bag and his pistol the Daoist usually carried on his person. Beneath his Daoist robes, they remained invisible. At night he placed them under his pillow. If anything happened, he could flee at a moment's notice.
As Zhang Yingchen walked, he didn't go directly to the main house. Coming from the twenty-first century, he naturally understood the importance of the mass line. Besides, he wanted to proselytize. In addition to the upper-class approach, the mass line held equal importance. So every time he went to check Master Zhuang's pulse or had free time, he would stop by the back courtyard, the main kitchen, and the servants' quarters to chat with the Zhuang household's staff. He treated anyone who was ill—without charging for medicine. The Zhuang servants deeply appreciated his humble, unpretentious manner, all declaring him a "true man of religion."
Arriving at the back courtyard, he saw many items piled in the yard—pots and pans, various scoops and knives. Zhang Yingchen, with his traditional medicine background, recognized these as equipment from an apothecary shop. There was also a long rectangular iron cage, evidently quite old, spotted with rust. Several servants were scrubbing it clean. Seeing him approach, they stopped their work to greet him.
"What is this?" Zhang Yingchen asked, curious.
"Master Daoist, this was used for raising deer at the old pharmacy," an elderly servant explained. "Look, there are also smaller cages over there—for pangolins, black-bone chickens, and the like."
It turned out the Zhuang family had once run a sizable pharmacy in Yizhou city. When the pharmacy closed, these items became useless and had been stored in the back courtyard.
"Then why bring them out now?"
"That's because of your good merit, sir!" said a middle-aged servant. "Ever since you cured the master's illness and advised him about charitable medicine distribution, the master said that with the constant floods and droughts locally, the common people are all suffering from epidemics. Rather than just distributing medicine, why not open a pharmacy to help all living beings? So he ordered us to bring out all this equipment."
"Master Zhuang is truly a man of great virtue." Zhang Yingchen immediately placed a tall hat on Zhuang Qian.
"Indeed he is." The elderly servant nodded. "With the master opening a pharmacy for the benefit of all, we servants also benefit. The master has already promised my fourth grandson a position as a shop clerk. Otherwise that idle fellow, finding no work at home, would just be eating his parents' food for nothing!"
Zhang Yingchen recalled that he had indeed discussed charitable medicine distribution with Master Zhuang a few days earlier. In truth, he had been subtly promoting New Daoist ideas to him over these days, gradually instilling doctrine. Based on what he understood, without the support and protection of local gentry in this area, proselytizing would prove virtually impossible.
Originally, his advice to Master Zhuang about distributing medicine had actually been intended to help establish Runshitang's reputation. Now if Zhuang wished to open a pharmacy, all the better. Using the various effective prepared medicines that Runshitang controlled, he had no worry about gaining control of this new establishment.
If he could completely win over Master Zhuang and make him a backbone of New Daoism locally, the entire Dadianzhang fortified compound would become New Daoism's "battle fortress" in the Yizhou area. He would no longer need to worry about attacks from other forces. He could even utilize local human resources for missionary work. Local believers would at least have more suitable accents than the people he had brought from Qiongshan.
(End of Chapter)