Chapter Fifty-Five: Stirring Winds and Clouds

Completely unaware of Zhao Hengyi’s ability to make money, Song San—the steward—believed that in the entire Elm Bay, the only reliable and profitable venture was the textile workshop.

After all, Zhao Hengyi’s grand constructions—whether the brick kiln, the lime kiln, or the cement kiln—were all preparations for infrastructure, and for now, the only sources of profit growth were the textile workshop and the poultry farm.

The truly lucrative enterprises Zhao Hengyi had not yet had the chance, nor the strength, to reveal; previously, he had neither the means nor the courage to do so.

Having a textile workshop and a new loom capable of increasing output eightfold already satisfied Song San greatly.

As long as the workshop scaled up and maintained stable production, Song San was confident that, using this as a foundation, he could secure a legacy for his Lord in Dangyang County, and even in Jiangling Prefecture—thus ensuring a voice in local affairs!

In truth, Song San had long been preparing for this. After years of patience and training a cadre of capable men, he had amassed enough potential for Song Ying’an; all that was missing was the right opportunity and sufficient funds.

Indeed, with enough money, Song San cared little for which trade he and his men might enter. In his plans, any enterprise related to the basic needs of life—food, clothing, housing, and transport—would be the ideal arena for action.

As for the sudden rise of Zhao Hengyi, Song San took him extremely seriously.

This regard was not solely because of Zhao Hengyi’s brotherly bond with his Lord, but more importantly because Zhao Hengyi fulfilled the conditions necessary to support all of Song San’s plans.

In Zhao Hengyi’s presence, Song San could maintain an air of calm confidence, yet in private he was deeply concerned about Zhao Hengyi and the ventures of Elm Bay.

Upon returning from Elm Bay to the Dangyang residence, Song San moved swiftly.

The next morning, the county magistrate of Dangyang received a rather formal letter, sent in the name of the Dangyang Marquis’s household.

The magistrate, Liu Rui, who had taken office last year, was almost invisible in Dangyang County. On the surface, this official, who had no backing at court, had been sidelined by his subordinates from the moment he arrived.

But this seemingly pedantic, even somewhat dull, magistrate was far from ignorant of all that transpired in Dangyang!

Recently, the personnel of the Marquis’s household had been active, frequently involving themselves in matters previously avoided. Many were caught off guard by this sudden change, but Liu, the so-called puppet magistrate, observed it all.

Now, with this formal letter from the Dangyang residence, one wondered if its contents would unsettle certain parties as recent events had.

With a faint sense of anticipation and the attitude of a bystander watching tigers fight, Magistrate Liu opened the letter. Moments later, this man—usually so lacking in presence—burst into hearty laughter.

The Marquis of Dangyang—remarkable indeed!

The Dangyang residence—remarkable indeed!

The letter was brief, not even very long. It stated simply that the Marquis had taken a liking to the place called Broken Cliff Mountain, believing it to be a site of rare natural beauty and spiritual significance—an ideal spot for cultivation and self-improvement.

This place, declared the Marquis, is mine.

As for the bandits occupying Broken Cliff Mountain, there was no need for the county’s concern. The Marquis, who commanded troops against barbarian armies on the frontier, could easily dispatch a few household guards to deal with mere mountain bandits!

Throughout the letter, a modest restraint was apparent, a subtle nonchalance befitting a Marquis who had earned his title through military merit despite his noble birth in the Mighty Marquis household.

Unlike rumors would suggest, Magistrate Liu—who was not as weak as some believed—also detected a hint of goodwill between the lines.

Interesting, truly interesting!

Having been in Dangyang for nearly a year, Magistrate Liu now saw in the Marquis a hope for breaking the deadlock.

With the magistrate’s tacit approval, news spread swiftly that, within a single morning, the household guards had wiped out the bandits at Broken Cliff Mountain.

Everyone was astonished!

Those working in the county office may never have interacted with the local bandits, but they were well acquainted with their backgrounds.

Broken Cliff Mountain was easy to defend and hard to attack; its chief, the One-Eyed Golden Eagle, was notoriously fierce. Even if government troops tried to besiege it, they would likely only succeed in starving the bandits out after trapping them atop the mountain.

That the Marquis’s household, based in Yonggu City, could capture Broken Cliff Mountain with only a few retainers was a testament to the prowess of one ennobled by military exploits.

Most people viewed the spectacle with idle curiosity, but some grew as uneasy as ants on a hot pan.

Zhao Hengyi’s assault on Broken Cliff Mountain was swift and ruthless; not a single bandit was spared, and word of the event had not yet leaked.

Those connected to the mountain had no idea what had happened to the bandits, what the current situation was, or even whether the bandits had been absorbed into the Marquis’s ranks.

Among the denizens of the county office, it was common knowledge that behind every powerful bandit gang stood some influential figure.

When bandits changed allegiance, it was usually the result of power struggles among the elite. For the bandits of Broken Cliff Mountain to switch loyalties and serve the Marquis, continuing their misdeeds under a new banner, was nothing unusual.

Within the public office, the advisor Huang Xin was beside himself with rage.

Rumors about Broken Cliff Mountain were swirling throughout the county office. Although Huang Xin doubted that the Marquis’s men could capture the mountain so swiftly, he feared the possibility that the bandits had betrayed their former master and defected to the Marquis.

Did the Marquis not fear breaking the rules and drawing the ire of many?

But upon reflection, Huang realized—the Marquis truly had nothing to fear.

Dangyang County was simply too small; in this shallow pond, there were few fish or shrimp. The Marquis, born of the Mighty Marquis household, was a crocodile lurking in the water. Once he made his move, all the other creatures could only become his prey.

Even the civil officials would not openly oppose the Marquis or the Mighty Marquis household over such a trivial county.

After all, the system of noble titles was still recognized by the civil bureaucracy; many of the old officials toiled tirelessly for the sake of securing a title themselves.

In these circumstances, people might disregard military men, but to disregard the noble title itself—now that would truly make one a target of universal condemnation, with no place to die in peace.

Despite the mild weather, Huang Xin was sweating profusely, the back of his scholar’s robe soaked through.

The most urgent matter was to ascertain exactly what had transpired on Broken Cliff Mountain.

Huang hurriedly left the public office, ignoring the strange looks from his colleagues.

Yuan Mei, the constable who had been keeping an eye on Huang, cursed quietly to himself but began to consider what gifts he should prepare for a visit to the Dangyang residence.