Chapter 2209 - The Freshly Minted Bazong

Seeing Feng Haijiao still in a daze, Bi Xuansheng hastened to chime in: "Congratulations, Hero Feng! Now that you are an imperial officer, in this Yangshan County you are the army. Collecting a bit of grain and pay—what difficulty is there?"

This remark invigorated Feng Haijiao. Never mind the ancestral glory of an official title—just having that status made him legitimate "military." He could levy grain and conscript labor throughout the county; any village that dared say "no" was "colluding with bandits"! Exterminating them would not only be guiltless but meritorious.

At this thought, he began to feel giddy. Then he reconsidered: the title "Left-Flank Bazong of Yangshan" was enticing, but it was, after all, just a piece of paper. The Hair-Clippers were not to be trifled with—Governor-General Xiong's hundred-thousand-strong army had been chased all the way to Guangxi. And he was merely a minor greenwood gang in Yangshan County. Wasn't this like an egg smashing against a rock?!

Zhan Zhekun noticed his shifting expressions and guessed what he was thinking. He smiled: "Hero Feng, do not worry. Everyone says the Hair-Clippers are superbly trained, unbeatable in battle. In truth, they merely rely on superior guns and cannon. If they were as formidable as they claim, how would Guangning have been recaptured by the government?"

He began to boast of how he had led his men, first infiltrating the city to suborn remnants of the surrendered garrison, then coordinating an inside-outside assault that took Huining County.

"...We killed several hundred Hair-Clippers on the spot, captured the false county magistrate they had appointed along with a host of false officials and clerks, and publicly executed them!"

Zhan Zhekun spoke with considerable pride. Indeed, this was his greatest achievement since slipping back into Guangdong from Guangxi. The heads of the naturalized county director and several "important" collaborators had already been packed in lime-filled boxes and sent overnight to Guangxi. Zhan Zhekun hoped to press the advantage and take another city.

Yet his plan to incite the Yang family in Huining to seize Shijian and then capture Huining county seat had collapsed when Hair-Clipper reinforcements arrived in time. The Yang family's forces suffered heavy losses in the Battle of Shijian. Returning to their estate, the entire Yang household was plunged into mourning; Zhan Zhekun, too, was crestfallen.

Fortunately, the two Shijian battles had forged an irreconcilable feud between the Yang family and the Hair-Clippers. Even if they wanted to defect, they no longer could. All they could do was steel themselves to "sacrifice everything for the nation." After returning home, Yang Jinghui immediately set about follow-up measures: First, he transferred the estate's portable wealth and dependents to the captured Weihu Mountain stronghold—the terrain there was so rugged that ordinary attackers could not take it. He also heightened the estate's walls, cast cannons, manufactured gunpowder weapons, and conscripted every second able-bodied man among his tenants and bondservants as militia. The entire estate braced for a fight to the finish with the Australians. Three times a day there were panics; everyone slept in their clothes, ready to fight at any moment.

Yet Huang Chao, in his haste to reach the Lianyang region, had not sent troops to besiege the Yang estate. When scouts reported that the Hair-Clipper main force had already passed through, the Yang household—who had been living in terror—finally relaxed.

But Yang Jinghui knew the crisis was not over. The Hair-Clippers were ignoring him only because the Yao uprising in the Lianyang region had diverted their attention. Once the rebellion was suppressed, the Hair-Clippers would certainly not let the Yang estate off. As the county's National Army grew stronger and the militia system solidified, the Yang estate's room to maneuver had shrunk drastically. Some villages that once submitted to them now had the county's backing and had raised their own "militia." Crushing these villages would not be hard, but Yang Jinghui feared triggering a full-scale siege by the county.

The Yang estate had walls and watchtowers, even cannon and muskets—but it was still just a manor, with no natural defenses. And once the National Army besieged them, the tenants could not farm; where would grain and money come from?

So no matter how Zhan Zhekun urged and guaranteed, the wily old fox Yang Jinghui refused to confront the Hair-Clippers directly. Yet he also knew that if he did nothing, he was simply waiting to die.

In the end, Yang Jinghui decided: continue to "make trouble" for the Hair-Clippers—just not in Huining. A different venue was needed. After all, a rabbit does not eat the grass by its own burrow.

Zhan Zhekun agreed the plan was feasible. After conferring, they chose Yangshan.

Yangshan was a mixed Yao-Han territory; the Yao uprising had only recently been suppressed. There might still be a few disgruntled elements who could be incited. Most importantly, the former second-in-command of Weihu Mountain, Xie Wendong, had contacts in Yangshan.

And so this delegation had arrived at Feng Haijiao's residence to persuade him to "support Ming and destroy the Hair-Clippers."

Hearing of this achievement, Feng Haijiao was secretly astounded—so such things were happening! He had indeed heard vague rumors that the Hair-Clippers had suffered a defeat in Huining and even lost the county seat. Seeing his skepticism, Zhan Zhekun had a retainer bring out a chest and opened it before him.

"Hero Feng, look here. This is the Hair-Clipper false magistrate's Seven-Star Pepperbox Pistol," Zhan Zhekun said, not without smugness. "This is a national treasure of the Hair-Clippers—only their naturalized cadres possess such things. There is nowhere in Ming to buy one. Need this student say more about breaching the city and slaying the enemy?"

Feng Haijiao took the revolver. Though he had never seen one, he had heard talk of them. Its form, luster, and intricate workmanship were beyond any local blacksmith—clearly genuine "Hair-Clipper goods."

"You see? The supposedly invincible Hair-Clippers have their defeats too." Zhan Zhekun resumed his boasting. "The Hair-Clippers were defeated and halted at Tengxian in the west—they cannot advance an inch. Throughout Guangdong, heroes are rising everywhere. The Hair-Clippers number only tens of thousands, scattered across the province—they are stretched thin, unable to cope. They may seem powerful now, but their position is like treading on spring ice. Within half a year to a year, imperial forces will counterattack! Yangshan lies on the main route for Huguang armies entering Guangdong. If Hero Feng holds this ground to welcome them, would he not be a great contributor to the court's recovery of Guangdong!"

These words set Feng Haijiao's head spinning, the fires of ambition blazing. He laughed: "Good! So be it!" He raised a hand. "Bring wine!"

The ensuing banquet saw everyone harboring hidden agendas, yet each satisfied. The Huining delegation all hoped Feng Haijiao would pull their chestnuts from the fire; they fawned over him lavishly. Zhan Zhekun addressed him as "General" every other sentence, until Feng Haijiao was so drunk he seemed to have forgotten that the title he had been promised was merely "Left-Flank Bazong of Yangshan"—a post that could not be found on any Board of Personnel or Board of War roster.

The next day, at the Huining delegation's urging, Feng Haijiao staged a small ceremony. He donned the military official's robes Zhan Zhekun had brought, strutted about like a monkey in a crown, and formally assumed the post of "Left-Flank Bazong of Yangshan." Zhan Zhekun presented him with a standard-issue saber of a Ming officer. Bi Xuansheng and Xie Wendong offered gifts and went through the motions of kowtowing and paying respects below—puffing Feng Haijiao up until he lost all sense of direction.

Now that he was an "official," he had to distribute titles. Feng Haijiao appointed his dozen-odd head men as "Squad Commanders" and "Platoon Commanders," then assembled his gang for a feast. The commoners of Qinglian Market were the ones who suffered—suddenly there were many more "tribute" payments.

At the banquet, Zhan Zhekun and Bi Xuansheng poured on the flattery until Feng Haijiao, oblivious to his own limitations, boasted repeatedly that he would take Yangshan county seat and show Governor-General Xiong what he was made of.

Having become a bazong, Feng Haijiao raised a banner in Qinglian Market and began "recruiting soldiers and buying horses." He dispatched men to neighboring villages demanding they "contribute grain and pay." In the midst of this commotion, word came that Sun Dabiao of Dalang Market had sent someone with an invitation: "Third Master Feng is requested to come and discuss business."

In the past, when Sun Dabiao "requested," Feng Haijiao would set out at once—Sun Dabiao was the wealthiest of the three sworn brothers. When Feng's "business" was slow and his men short of pay and provisions, he often had to beg this "Elder Brother" for help. Any large spoils also had to be fenced through this "Elder Brother."

But now he was puffed up—he was an "official." Sun Dabiao, a mere "commoner," should come to see him, not the other way around. And Sun Dabiao had not even congratulated him on his new post! How tactless. He felt aggrieved. Without receiving the messenger, he said: "Tell him that I am preoccupied with official duties. If he has business, he may come here to discuss it."

The subordinate assented and was about to withdraw when Bi Xuansheng said: "Wait!" He stopped the man and turned to Feng Haijiao: "Master, I hear this Master Sun is your sworn brother?"

Before coming, Bi Xuansheng had gathered considerable intelligence from Xie Wendong about the local situation—especially the background of this Feng Haijiao. He knew exactly who Sun Dabiao was.

"That's right. He's elder by age; I call him Elder Brother."

"In that case, your reply may be... inadvisable..."

"F* your mother—what's inadvisable?!" Feng Haijiao's impression of Bi Xuansheng was that he was a smooth-talking, "talented" pedant. He had impulsively made him a "secretary," but now this one word "inadvisable" made him feel slighted. He glared at Bi Xuansheng with a look that said, If you can't explain yourself, I'll have your head.

Bi Xuansheng was genuinely frightened, but he had seen enough of the world to know that backing down now would mark him as weak in this greenwood hero's eyes—making it even harder to speak up later. He cleared his throat and feigned composure: "Master, you now hold an official post—you are no ordinary person. But since you and Master Sun have sworn brotherhood, you are brothers who live and die together—the word 'loyalty' must be observed. If word of this gets out, those who understand will say it is a matter of rank; those who do not will say you lack loyalty..."

"Me? Lacking loyalty?" Feng Haijiao was, after all, a jianghu man. The mere suggestion of a "disloyal" reputation softened him, though he continued to bluster. Bi Xuansheng knew his words had hit home and pressed the advantage: "Now that you are an imperial officer, Master, you must surely seek great deeds. They say it takes brothers to fight a tiger. Master Sun is your sworn elder brother; if you can win him over, he would be an immense asset. I beg you to reconsider."

Feng Haijiao's mind turned. Bi Xuansheng had a point. His sworn brother had been hit hard by the Yao, suffering heavy losses, but he was still a centipede that dies but never falls—he had men and resources. Offending him served no purpose; winning him over would be helpful. His anger turned to delight; he clapped Bi Xuansheng heavily on the shoulder: "No wonder they say scholars are full of cunning ideas—you really do have insight!"

Bi Xuansheng's shoulder ached from the blow. Inwardly cursing the "soldier ruffian," he kept a calm expression: "Not at all—it is the Master's farsightedness and openness to counsel."

"Very well. I shall condescend... just this once." Feng Haijiao stood and paced, then told his attendant: "Tell the messenger I will come tomorrow. Have him prepare wine and meat."

From Qinglian Market to Dalang Market was only half a day's overland journey. In the past, they often visited each other without fanfare—only bringing a few followers for protection against enemies or Yao raiders. Usually, they walked; sometimes they took a simple two-man sedan chair.

This time, Feng Haijiao wanted to make an impression—his first outing since becoming an officer. He needed a proper entourage. A sedan chair was too shabby, yet such things were rare in Yangshan: decent palanquins were found only in the county seat or with local gentry, not in a bandit's nest like Qinglian Market.

Feng Haijiao eyed the dilapidated palanquin his men had scrounged up with displeasure. Again, Bi Xuansheng was quick-witted: "Master, you are now an imperial military officer. By regulation, you should ride a horse. The palanquin can be left behind."

Horses they did have—a few. They selected the most "spirited" steed; now Feng Haijiao had a mount. Behind the horse came a red silk canopy and a name-banner; a few dozen lackeys formed an escort. At the front, taking a cue from the magistrate's procession, they found a brass gong and beat out the rhythm of "Make way, soldiers and civilians!" The procession set off in grand style.

The spectacle was imposing. Yangshan's roads were already nearly deserted after the Yao uprising; with Feng Haijiao's cavalcade on the march, not a single traveler remained.

(End of Chapter)