Chapter 15: Noon

"It's not about getting beaten." Lin Yuan leaned against the tent pole, his tone as flat as if discussing someone else's life or death. "It's about letting all the commoners in the world watch me get beaten."

Huo Qing didn't make a sound, his brows furrowed tightly together.

"Think about it. Once Fang De's underlings, those bailiffs with internal energy, start moving, all the disaster victims present will be watching. A seventh-rank capital civil official, publicly beaten—even beaten to death on the spot—by the men in charge of the silver shipment. What is that called?"

"That's called silencing a witness." Huo Qing's face was as dark as water.

"Right."

Lin Yuan's finger tapped heavily on the stack of hemp paper on the table. "What kind of witness? The mouth that speaks for the disaster victims! The victims aren't blind. They'll see someone holding the real accounts, fighting for justice on their behalf, and then that person gets beaten to death right in front of them. They'll think for themselves."

Old Yu suddenly stood up, his rough hands rubbing together forcefully.

"Thinking is one thing, but what if you really are beaten to death? The victims are unarmed. Fang De's men not only have blades and clubs, they're all trained martial artists. What can the victims do?"

"The victims don't need to do anything."

Lin Yuan paused, his gaze blazing.

"What I absolutely do not want is for the victims to riot. If they riot, Fang De will have the perfect excuse for a bloody crackdown. Then he can submit a memorial, claim it was a victim uprising, and when the court investigates, the evidence will be gone, the witnesses dead."

"Then what do you want?" Huo Qing asked.

"I want the victims to remember."

The tent fell deathly quiet for two breaths.

"Remember what?" Old Yu's voice trembled.

"To remember exactly how much grain was distributed today. To remember that the register lists only a few thousand households. To remember how many people actually showed up! As long as these numbers are carved into their minds, no matter who comes to investigate in the future, there will be thousands of mouths that can bear witness. Fang De can silence my one mouth, but he can't silence thousands!"

Huo Qing walked to the table, looking down at the densely packed numbers on the hemp paper.

"Your plan has a prerequisite."

"What prerequisite?"

"You have to finish speaking." Huo Qing stared at him, his gaze sharp. "Fang De's men won't wait for you to finish reading all the base ledgers before they act. The moment you open your mouth, those Houtian-stage martial artists might pounce. One palm could take your life."

Lin Yuan thought for a moment, acknowledging this was a problem.

"So I need time. Even half an incense stick's worth would be enough for me to read out the most crucial counties."

"Half an incense stick." Huo Qing repeated.

Old Yu, standing to the side, gritted his teeth, his eyes bloodshot. "Half an incense stick... I'd risk my life to hold them off!"

Huo Qing waved a hand, signaling him not to be hasty.

"How many men does Fang De have under him?"

"Between the bailiffs escorting the silver and the temporary helpers he drafted, about twenty."

Lin Yuan mentally reviewed the people he'd seen these past few days in Luzhou. "Among them, Tao Si, Qian Er, and Wu Liu are his trusted aides, all possess internal energy. The rest are mostly filler. The ones who can really fight don't exceed five."

"I have forty-two men under me," Huo Qing said. "Fifteen of them are old soldiers brought from the Dingguo Duke's Estate, at least mid-stage Houtian. The rest are local garrison fill-ins."

"That's enough," Lin Yuan said.

"The problem isn't whether it's enough or not." Huo Qing's tone remained flat. "The problem is, once my men step in to block Fang De's men, the nature of this affair changes. It becomes the Dingguo Duke's Estate's soldiers openly brawling with Zhao Chong's men."

The tent fell quiet again.

Old Yu's expression shifted.

Huo Qing was the Third Princess's man, and behind the Third Princess stood the Dingguo Duke's Estate. Fang De was Zhao Chong's man, and Zhao Chong was intricately connected to the Second Princess's Liu family. If these two groups openly confronted each other in Huainan, and the news reached the capital, the resulting storm would be no small matter.

"Captain Huo." Lin Yuan looked at him, asking seriously, "If you help me this time, won't you have a hard time explaining yourself to the Third Princess when you return?"

"That's my business." Huo Qing's reply was crisp and decisive.

He turned, pulled a cloth-wrapped bundle from under the bed, and opened it. Inside lay a short blade gleaming with a cold light.

"Old Yu."

"Here."

"Go call Li San."

Old Yu was stunned for a moment. "Li San?"

"Yes. And Zhang Meng and Sun Erniu." Huo Qing fastened the short blade at his waist, his gaze icy. "One of these three had his home in Chao County washed away by the flood. One lost his younger brother in the waters. The last one's elderly mother is still missing without a trace."

He looked up at Old Yu.

"For today's matter, let those who want to go, go. Don't force those who don't."

Old Yu clenched his back teeth, gave a heavy nod, and lifted the tent flap to leave.

The tent was now left with just Lin Yuan and Huo Qing.

"Captain Huo."

"Hmm."

"Thank you."

Huo Qing ignored him, turning to put on his cold armor. The clinking of the metal plates produced a chilling, metallic ring.

"Don't thank me too soon." He spoke without turning his head, his voice hard. "Fang De's underlings, those martial artists, don't know restraint. What if you really are beaten to death on the spot today?"

"Then I should thank you first." Lin Yuan let out a light laugh, a flicker of fervor deep in his eyes. "There'll be no chance to thank you if I'm dead. Besides, it would be a worthy death."

The corner of Huo Qing's mouth twitched, but he said nothing more.

The sun gradually rose higher, and the camp began to stir.

Clanging sounds came from Fang De's direction—they were loading the silver chests onto carts.

Several bailiffs ran back and forth. Tao Si's booming voice was the loudest, audible across half the camp as he shouted, "Hurry up! We open the granary at noon!"

In his own tent, Lin Yuan read through the stack of hemp paper from start to finish once more, running the key numbers through his mind three times.

Eight counties.

The household numbers, land acreage, and village breakdowns for each.

The fake accounts in Fang De's disaster verification register.

The discrepancies between the two.

For the remaining three counties, although there were no base land registers, the discrepancies from the first eight were enough to prove the point.

Fang De's register had brutally compressed nine thousand households down to four thousand two hundred, and sixty thousand mu of land down to thirty thousand.

Even if only the numbers from eight counties were compared, this colossal gap was too big for anyone to cover up.

When the hour of Si was half over, Old Yu arrived.

Following him were three soldiers.

Leading them was a man in his early thirties, with a dark face, high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and an aura of death about him.

This was Li San.

He stood at the tent entrance, staring fixedly at Lin Yuan, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Lord Lin." His voice was hoarse, as if grated on sandpaper, like he hadn't spoken in a long time.

Lin Yuan nodded. "Li San?"

"Yes."

"From Chao County?"

Li San's Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty. "Chao County. White Stone Village."

"White Stone Village." Lin Yuan flipped through the papers on the table, finding that page. "Chao County total households, one thousand three hundred forty-two. White Stone Village..."

His finger slid across the page, stopping on a line of text.

"White Stone Village. Eighty-sixth household."

Li San's eyes instantly turned bloodshot. His lips trembled violently twice, but no sound came out.

"On Fang De's register, the number of affected households in Chao County is written as just over four hundred." Lin Yuan turned the paper around, thrusting it directly in front of him. "Out of over one thousand three hundred households, he only acknowledges over four hundred. The rest... he treats as wiped out."

Li San stared fixedly at that line of text, his hand at his side clenching into a fist, knuckles cracking.

Old Yu beside him gave his shoulder a heavy pat, saying nothing.

The other two soldiers, Zhang Meng and Sun Erniu—one sturdy and short, the other tall and lanky—stood at the tent entrance, the muscles on their faces twitching slightly.

Huo Qing looked at them.

"I'll say this once. At noon today, during the relief distribution, Lord Lin will publicly confront Fang De with the accounts. Fang De's martial artists will definitely attack. Your task is to hold them off at all costs. Do not strike first. Do not take lives. Understood?!"

The three of them roared in unison, "Understood!"

After responding, Li San suddenly lifted his head and added another sentence.

"Captain Huo, how long do we hold them off?"

Huo Qing glanced at Lin Yuan.

"Hold them off until Lord Lin finishes speaking."

Li San gave a fierce nod, asking no more. The look in his eyes already held a determination to die.

The sun rose higher, the light piercing.

Lin Yuan stepped out of the tent, standing in the open space to look at the sky. It was almost noon.

About three li east of the camp was the porridge shed and relief distribution platform Fang De had set up in advance.

Word of the shed's construction had spread yesterday.

Disaster victims from several surrounding counties in Luzhou, all those who could still walk and had a breath left in them, were desperately rushing toward that place.

Lin Yuan turned his head to look east.

In the distance, on the parched land, a dense, black mass of figures had already gathered, like swarms of ants.

He took a deep, long breath, patted the hemp papers inside his robe once more, and strode forward.