Han Ji

Chapter 114 Salt Well Robbers

"Brilliant plan," Zhao Lu flattered. "When Liu Bei comes knocking, the governor can then make his demands."

Su Gu got up and walked to the window.

The moonlight outside the window was pale and lifeless.

"Liu Bei may seem gentle, but he's actually quite tough," he said slowly. "He's Lu Zhi's disciple and a hero who quelled the Yellow Turban Rebellion. He's not someone to be trifled with. But even the toughest bone has to be boiled in the pot of Hanzhong."

He turned around, a fierce glint in his eyes: "Tell the officials in Mianyang that the bandits can cause even more trouble. It doesn't matter if a few people die; the blame will fall on the bandits."

"Yes."

The three men withdrew.

Su Gu sat alone in the hall, tapping his fingers on the table.

The candlelight flickered, illuminating his face, which was half-lit and half-shadowed.

"Liu Bei!" he murmured the name. "Let's take our time."

Under the same moon.

In the western military camp, the candlelight in the central command tent had not yet gone out.

Liu Bei was showing Xun Cai the roll of accounts for the salt wells.

"Su Gu wants to take the salt." Xun Cai looked up after reading it. "My husband sent Zhang Sima, is he planning to seize it by force?"

"It's not about seizing it." Liu Bei pointed to a line in the account book, "The salt wells have seen a sharp drop in production, and the salt workers are suffering. It's perfectly legitimate for us to go and protect the salt and bring peace to the people. If we control the salt wells, we'll have a source of revenue, and Su Gu's attempts to withhold military funds will be useless."

Xun Cai thought for a moment: "But Su Gu will definitely retaliate."

"Let him pounce." Liu Bei blew out the candle. "That's just how political struggles are."

In the darkness, he embraced his wife.

"Go to sleep, there are still many battles to fight."

Outside the tent, the summer night wind of Hanzhong blew through the camp, over the city walls, and over the towering eaves of the prefectural governor's mansion.

The air already smelled of gunpowder.

On the seventh day of the sixth month, Zhang Fei led three hundred soldiers out of Nanzheng.

The men and horses carried no banners and were lightly armed. Zhang Fei rode a black horse, wearing leather armor, and carried his eighteen-foot spear wrapped in coarse cloth on his shoulder. Zhang Wu led fifty riders ahead to scout the way.

Before the morning mist had dissipated, the group headed north along the Mian River.

We stopped to rest at the post station at noon. The old clerk, the station chief, brought us hot soup noodles and cautiously asked, "Where are you going, sir?"

"Suppressing bandits." Zhang Fei took a big bite of his pancake. "Have you heard about the salt bandits causing trouble in Mianyang?"

The old official's expression changed, and he lowered his voice: "Sir, that salt bandit... is wicked."

"How is it so sinister?"

"They rob government salt, but don't harm the salt workers. They hijack the salt carts and even leave a toll." The old official looked around. "Some say they're not bandits, they're..."

Before he could finish speaking, the sound of horses' hooves came from outside.

Zhang Wu rushed into the pavilion: "Yide! There are corpses on the road ahead!"

Three miles from the post station, at the bend in the official road.

Three salt carts lay overturned by the roadside, salt sacks torn and spilling white salt everywhere. Six salt escorts lay in pools of blood, all wounds to their necks, killed with a single stab. Hoofprints marked the way eastward into the mountains.

Zhang Fei squatted down to examine the body.

"The blade is clean; it's a standard ring-pommel sword." He wiped away some blood. "He's been dead for less than an hour."

Zhang Wu led his men to chase the hoofprints, but returned shaking his head: "They've gone into the mountains; the forest is dense, we can't catch up."

"We have to catch up, even if we can't." Zhang Fei stood up. "Leave fifty men to guard the salt carts, the rest of you come with me into the mountains."

We ventured deeper and deeper into the mountains and forests.

The foothills of the Bashan Mountains are covered with dense forests. Fallen leaves have piled up to a foot thick on the ground, and hoofprints appear and disappear intermittently. Zhang Fei ordered his soldiers to search in groups of three, in a fan-shaped pattern.

After searching for half an hour, nothing was found.

"Yide, something's not right." Zhang Wu wiped his sweat. "This mountain path isn't the one we usually take. Why are the bandits heading this way?"

Zhang Fei squinted and looked around.

The mountain was steep and the forest dense, but a faint path led upwards. He suddenly squatted down, brushed aside the fallen leaves, and saw shallow tire tracks underneath, made by an empty car.

"We've fallen into their trap." Zhang Fei stood up. "The bandits stole the salt and ran off elsewhere. These footprints are just leading us in circles."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the sound of whistles rang out from the east.

That's the direction the salt carts were left to guard.

"Return!" Zhang Fei mounted his horse.

When they returned to the main road, the fifty soldiers left behind were fighting a group of masked bandits. The bandits numbered about thirty, were skilled horsemen, and were fighting and retreating. Seeing Zhang Fei return to reinforce them, they gave a whistle and scattered into the mountains and forests.

"Chase!" Zhang Wu was about to give chase.

"Stop chasing." Zhang Fei reined in his horse, looking at the ground. "Is the salt running low?"

The soldier counted the bags: "Three bags are missing."

"How many died?"

"Our men are fine, but... two more saltworkers have died."

Zhang Fei dismounted and walked to the salt cart. The salt sacks were slashed, and salt was scattered all over the ground, but only three sacks were missing. Two bandits were dead; their bodies had been taken away, leaving only bloodstains.

"Damn it!" Zhang Fei kicked the salt bag. "This isn't robbing salt, it's murder."

That night, the team arrived in Mianyang County.

The city gates were already closed. Zhang Fei knocked on the gate, and the guards on the city wall, after verifying his identity, lowered the drawbridge. The county magistrate, surnamed Wu, was in his forties and hurriedly came out to greet him.

"Zhang Sima! You've finally arrived!"

"What's going on with the salt bandits?" Zhang Fei asked in the front yard of the county government office without going inside.

Magistrate Wu wiped his sweat: "In the past half month, we've robbed six salt carts and killed twenty-three salt workers. I reported this to the prefectural government, and they said... that suppressing bandits is the responsibility of the commandant, and told me to wait."

Where is the salt well?

"Ten miles north of the city, by the White River."

"lead the way."

Magistrate Wu wanted to persuade him to "go again tomorrow," but Zhang Fei had already mounted his horse.

By the time we arrived at Baishui Salt Well, it was already 9 PM.

The well site is nestled against the mountain and beside the river, with more than a dozen salt wells scattered around, and the brine pools shimmering grayish-white. The workers' sheds stretch out in a row, but most are pitch black, with only the main tent in the center lit by a lamp.

The clerk, surnamed Gou, was fat and had a large ear. He was drinking with a woman in his arms. When Zhang Fei led his troops in, he was sobered up.

"Who...who are you?"

"Zhang Fei, Commander of the Hanzhong Commandant." Zhang Fei flashed his token. "I am ordered to protect the salt and suppress bandits."

The clerk pushed the woman aside, straightened his clothes, and bowed respectfully: "So it's Magistrate Zhang. My apologies for my overconfidence. However... the salt wells are a strategically important location; stationing troops there requires official documents from the prefecture..."

"The bandits killed and robbed salt right under your nose, and you want the documents?" Zhang Fei took a step closer. "Twenty-three salt workers died, and you're here drinking?"

"Your humble servant... Your humble servant has increased security..."

"Shut up my ass." Zhang Fei scanned the tent. "From today onwards, the defense of the salt wells will be taken over by our army. You, cooperate."

Supervisor Gou's expression changed: "Minister Zhang, this is against the rules. Salt wells are directly under the jurisdiction of the prefectural salt administration..."

"Rules?" Zhang Fei drew his eighteen-foot spear, the tip pressed against the warden Gou's throat. "When the bandits killed you, did they talk to you about rules?"

The spearhead was icy cold.

The clerk's legs went weak: "Zhang... Magistrate Zhang, please calm down... I will cooperate fully."

That night, Zhang Fei stationed his troops at Yanjing.

Two hundred men were assigned to guard the well site and salt route, while one hundred men patrolled the mountains. Zhang Wu led a cavalry unit to patrol the outer perimeter.

The following morning, Zhang Fei summoned the salt workers.

On the open ground of the well site, three or four hundred people had gathered, all of them pale and emaciated, dressed in rags. Seeing the soldiers lined up, they shrank their necks and dared not raise their heads.

"My name is Zhang Fei, a Sima under the Commandant of Hanzhong." Zhang Fei stood on the salt stack. "From this day forward, the salt wells will be protected by my army. If the bandits come again, I will kill them. But there is one condition."

He scanned the crowd: "Whoever colludes with bandits, whoever shirks work, whoever withholds wages and rations, I will kill them all."

The salt workers looked at each other in bewilderment.

An old salt worker raised his hand tremblingly: "Sir... we haven't been paid for three months."

"Who deducted it?"

The salt workers looked at Supervisor Gou.