Chapter Fifty: The Crisis at Elm Bay

Zhao Hengyi’s words drew rounds of applause and cheers from the crowd. Those who had followed him to the Cliff Mountain were the household retainers from the Anyang residence, each one a renowned and stalwart man in his own right. In an era where human lives were as fleeting as grass in the wind, to follow such a master meant not only avoiding acts against one’s conscience, but also gaining benefits beyond imagination—what greater freedom could there be in the world?

Even the twenty-five veteran soldiers who had come to join Zhao Hengyi after receiving their share of silver decided to stay. From then on, their lives were pledged to such a just and kind master.

At first, the household retainers were reluctant to accept their allotted silver, but Zhao Hengyi, invoking Song Ying’an’s name, shamelessly declared himself a blood-sworn brother of the Lord of Anyang, and ordered the retainers to simply obey whatever he asked. Only after Xing Xiaorong gave his approval did the men accept the silver with joy.

The jewelry and gold and silver artifacts that could not be divided were left to Zhao Hengyi himself. As the master, he had to take a share—otherwise, the men would truly hesitate to accept what was given to them.

As for the food stores and all other provisions in the stronghold, everyone willingly accepted Zhao Hengyi’s arrangement: everything would be left for the unfortunate women and children.

In front of the Hall of Brotherhood, the bonfire crackled and blazed, and a fire seemed to burn in everyone’s heart.

Earlier that afternoon, Zhao Hengyi had sent someone back to the village with news—first, to report that the battle against the Cliff Mountain bandits had been won, so the old village chief and the others need not worry; second, to let them know that those who had accompanied him would spend the night on the mountain, so there was no cause for concern.

By Zhao Hengyi’s estimate, after helping the poor women on the mountain with some cleaning work the next day, everyone could return to the village—provided enough men were left at the stone wall to hold a proper defense.

The Cliff Mountain bandits were the largest force near Anyang County. Although the battle at dawn had ended swiftly, there was no guarantee that word hadn’t already leaked out. The terrain here was easy to defend and hard to attack, and with Fang Dayong and his men wiped out, other bandit gangs might well be eyeing this place.

How to assign men to defend the mountain, how to organize the women to weave and produce goods—there were countless details that needed careful planning.

As the group sat around the fire eating, they all remarked on the bandits’ wealth. These villains who plundered and terrorized the region had not only filled their granaries with food, but also lacked for nothing in wine and meat!

The ever-vigilant Zhao Hengyi forbade anyone from drinking, but told them to eat their fill of meat and rice. No one complained in such times.

Those unfortunate women and children, after venting their pain at the public trial and being encouraged by Zhao Hengyi’s words, had regained a bit of their spirit. Though they still flinched at the sight of men, they were far better than when they’d first been rescued from the cellar, numb and lifeless like puppets.

The wounds of the heart take time to heal. Zhao Hengyi was no expert in such matters, but he did what he could, offering kindness and warmth to help these poor souls feel the world’s compassion once more.

To Zhao Hengyi’s relief, since their conversation, Liu Mengru had truly seemed reborn. Now she was organizing the women and children, encouraging them, and constantly reminding everyone of the importance of the textile workshop to be established on the mountain. By staying, they could earn silver for their new master—they would not suffer abuse, nor would anyone sell them off.

Compared to the distant future Zhao Hengyi had painted, these hopes, which were just within reach, gave the women far more strength to carry on.

It had to be said—Miss Liu truly had a talent for management.

Just as the group finished their meal and prepared to rest in shifts, one of the hunters sent to the village with a message returned unexpectedly.

“Master, Xiaoshan and I ran into another gang of bandits on the way back to the village. That rascal Liu Shuang was among them!”

“We tailed them and found Liu Shuang was leading those bandits straight to our Elm Bay!”

“I’ve already sent Xiaoshan on a detour to warn the village!”

This group of bandits, three or four dozen strong, all armed to the teeth and looking fierce, were clearly up to no good.

Zhao Hengyi’s face grew cold. The men from Elm Bay rose to their feet, anxiety and worry spreading among them.

He had not known that Liu Shuang had escaped, but that no longer mattered.

“Xing Xiaorong, you guard Cliff Mountain with the household retainers. The rest, come with me to the village!”

With a burst of activity, Zhao Hengyi led a group, torches in hand, racing back toward Elm Bay through the night, everyone’s heart pounding as they rushed along.

A flicker of worry passed through Xing Xiaorong’s eyes, but he knew that with the men Zhao Hengyi was taking, they could handle several dozen bandits. The only issue was whether they could beat the bandits there. Even if he and the retainers went along, it would make no difference.

This steward, trained from childhood by Steward Song, was meticulous and thorough. Now he busied himself deploying the household men for defense, calm amid the chaos—not an ordinary servant by any means.

Even if he could not make the final decisions, Xing Xiaorong could not help but wonder: if these new bandits really did attack Elm Bay, what would become of Young Master Zhao?

He was indeed a man of great talent. Until recently, Xing Xiaorong had only heard of him through the guards’ tales and the Lord’s letters, and had thought the stories exaggerated—how could such a genius exist in this world?

But after working alongside him these past days, Xing Xiaorong realized that Young Master Zhao truly possessed both courage and wisdom, and handled all matters with order and skill. Most impressive was his ability to rally men’s hearts—a talent rarely seen.

For the Lord to have such a man at his service was a blessing from the heavens.

But if the bandits succeeded in attacking Elm Bay, would Young Master Zhao be left with no choice but to devote himself entirely to the Lord’s service?

As soon as this thought arose, Xing Xiaorong shook his head to banish it. Young Master Zhao was a paragon of virtue, and it was shameful to harbor such a selfish notion. Still, the idea that the Lord might gain such a capable aide was tempting—damn it!

Meanwhile, in the forests more than ten miles from Elm Bay, a gang of bandits lay sprawled on the ground, exhausted. The forced march was torture for them; if not for the chief himself leading the way, they would long since have mutinied.

Now, like piles of mud, they cursed and munched on dry rations, venting their frustration on Liu Shuang, who had joined them. He was kicked and slapped, utterly miserable.

Liu Shuang, who usually swaggered about the village, now behaved like a whipped dog—submissive, grinning obsequiously even as the bandits abused him, the very picture of a lackey.

“Enough with the damned racket! Quiet down and eat something so you can rest your legs. After midnight, we hit Elm Bay and take whatever we want!”