Chapter Sixteen: A Warning

Fang Ming chatted with He Yuqing for a few more moments. The man spoke only of the customs and landscapes of the realm, never once mentioning Fang Ming's offer to recruit him. Fang Ming knew that a clan head from an aristocratic clan like his carried himself with pride and found it hard to swallow his pride, so he was resisting. But how could Fang Ming let such a talent slip away? Besides, he hadn't outright refused, which meant there was still hope. Fang Ming made up his mind to invite him back anyway. If he sought his advice day and night from then on, he was sure he could eventually change He Yuqing's mind.

He immediately ordered them to set out again. This time, the atmosphere was much more harmonious. Everyone had become one of their own, and even Xie Jin's face had softened somewhat.

Halfway along the road, Fang Ming suddenly sensed that Li Dazhuang, the shrine keeper of Qingyu Village, was calling on the Divine Strike Technique. His heart jumped, but he still sent out his Divine Power while ordering everyone to pick up the pace.

As soon as he returned to the outskirts of Qingyu Village, a figure rushed toward him, crying, "My lord! You've finally returned! I've been worried sick waiting for you!"

Seeing that it was He Dong, Fang Ming asked in confusion, "I've only been in the mountains for half a day. What could possibly have happened?"

He Dong wept bitterly and bowed. "...Not long after my lord left this morning, someone from the Zhang household, a prominent family in Qingxi Township, came by. They're landlords, with more than a hundred mu of land in Qingyu Village and over a dozen tenant households. The wheat harvest was good, so it was only reasonable for them to collect rent, but they raised it outrageously—to a full eighty percent, practically driving the tenants to ruin. Then they said they'd lower it back to fifty percent only if the tenants persuaded the village to tear down the Land God Temple. Otherwise, they'd follow these terms from now on..." Time turned back to the previous night.

The Zhangs were a major surname in Qingxi Township, but when people spoke of the Zhang household, they meant the family of Zhang Huaizheng, the wealthy landowner. Zhang Huaizheng was the Zhang clan head and the township head of Qingxi. The Ancestral Spirit of Qingxi Township, Zhang Qingyun, was his great-grandfather.

Zhang Qingyun had served as a ninth-rank registrar and managed to leave his descendants a respectable estate. He had also secured the position of township head of Qingxi for them, allowing it to pass down through the family. After his death, he was worshipped as an Ancestral Spirit and watched over Qingxi Township. Naturally, he took extra care of his own line, granting them ample protective power. His descendants had also done their part, managing the family estate so well that it flourished. They owned five hundred mu of land in Qingxi Township alone, making them a wealthy household.

That night, Zhang Huaizheng was restless. Even the fourth concubine he had just taken in failed to interest him. He had spent a great deal of silver to redeem her from the Flower-Appreciation House in the county town. She was skilled at singing, playing instruments, and dancing—and her talents in serving a man were peerless. He usually spent most nights with her. But she had grown petulant, relying on his favor, and when Zhang Huaizheng's temper flared, he slapped her across the face. Only then did she quiet down.

Just then, the steward, who had been watching his master's expression from the side, stepped forward and asked, "Master, would you like a bowl of lotus-seed tea? It cools the body and puts out the fire. It works wonders."

The steward had been with him for decades. Unless something unexpected happened, his son would take over as the Zhang household's steward. Zhang Huaizheng tamped down his anger a little and said, "I've been restless tonight. I keep feeling something is wrong." The steward's eyes shifted as he replied, "The harvest is upon us, and it's time to go to the villages to collect rent. Is Master worried it's unsafe in the outlying villages? After all, Qingyu Village was nearly wiped out last time. But Master is protected by the ancestors, so surely nothing will happen. Still, a wise man doesn't stand beneath a crumbling wall. Master could send someone else down."

Though the Zhangs were wealthy, the rent was a crucial part of their income. In previous years, Zhang Huaizheng had always gone to the villages himself to supervise its collection. The steward had his own motives for saying this: if the master stayed home and sent servants to collect the rent, they could skim more off the top—and he, as steward, would get his share.

Zhang Huaizheng narrowed his eyes, as though he had grasped something. "What did you just say? Say it again!"

The old steward's eyes lit up. There was a chance! "This old servant said, perhaps someone else should be sent to the village to collect the rent."

"Not that. The sentence before it."

Only then did the old steward look genuinely confused. "...Master is protected by the ancestors, so surely nothing will happen..."

Zhang Huaizheng slapped his hand down. "That's it! I've been restless tonight. Perhaps the ancestors are warning me!"...

Ignoring the steward's baffled expression, he ordered, "Quick, prepare the lanterns! I'm going to the ancestral hall!" The steward was at a loss, but respectfully followed his orders and went to make preparations.

The township's ancestral hall had been built with Zhang family money, near the center of town. It occupied a good-sized plot and had three grand rooms. Zhang Huaizheng had something weighing on his mind, so he hurried along, nearly outpacing the household servants carrying lanterns.

He hurried into the main hall. The building was made of brick and tile, sturdy and spotless, though he barely noticed that. He only relaxed once he saw that the densely packed ancestral tablets in the center were all unharmed—especially the one belonging to Zhang Qingyun, which sat safely in the middle.

Someone came in then. It was Zhang household servant Zhang San, who was in charge of the ancestral hall and lived in the side room at night. Hearing that his master had come in the middle of the night, he hurriedly threw on his clothes and came to attend to him. "Would Master like to offer incense?"

Zhang Huaizheng nodded. Seeing the hall clean and orderly, the offering table laden with ample sacrificial food, and the incense smoke curling upward, he smiled. "Zhang San, you've done a fine job. Go collect your reward from the accounts tomorrow... Since I'm here, of course I'll offer incense to the ancestors!"

Zhang San's face brightened. He hurried to prepare the incense and offerings, and brought them over a moment later.

Zhang Huaizheng took the incense and bowed respectfully three times before the ancestral tablets, praying silently, "Ancestors above, if something is wrong, please let me know!" He inserted the incense, then told Zhang San, "I'm sleeping in the ancestral hall tonight. Go get things ready." He also ordered the servant holding the lantern to return and notify the household.

"...Yes!" Zhang San hurried to tidy his own room for his master. He would have to make do in the storeroom for the night. The ancestral hall had only three rooms: the largest was the main hall where the ancestors were worshipped, Zhang San lived on the left, and the storeroom was on the right.

That night, Zhang Huaizheng tossed and turned, unable to sleep. After a whole night of it, he finally drifted off just before dawn.

In his dream, Zhang Huaizheng saw a figure, hazy and indistinct. It seemed to be his great-grandfather, Zhang Qingyun. He was about to bow and speak, but found he couldn't move. His mouth was the same; though he had a thousand things to say, he couldn't utter a word.

The figure walked up to him without speaking and used a finger to write a few characters on the ground. It seemed to take great effort, and the writing was blurred and painfully slow.

Zhang Huaizheng stared wide-eyed. At last, he made out the words "Qingyu... Land... danger." He wanted to see more, but a rooster crowed. He opened his eyes and found that it was already morning.

He knew a few secrets. Ancestral Spirits could issue warnings, but the restrictions were severe and the cost immense. His ancestor had managed to give him five characters, which was already remarkable. Even that had consumed a great deal of Fortune; for ten years, there would be no more dream visitations.

For his ancestor to pay such a price, the matter had to be serious. Zhang Huaizheng said nothing more and returned home, turning those five characters over and over in his mind.

When he got back, breakfast was being prepared. His wife, Madam Zhang, smiled when she saw him. "I was just about to send someone to fetch you. What a coincidence that you're back. Let's have breakfast together."

Zhang Huaizheng waved her off. "You eat first. I'm going to the study. Go call Old Zhang; I have something to ask him."

Ignoring his wife's puzzled expression, he went to the study. Before long, the steward, Old Zhang, arrived and bowed. "Master, you sent for me?"

Zhang Huaizheng grunted and asked, "You're well informed. Do you know of anything happening in Qingyu Village lately, anything related to land?"

The steward thought for a moment, then replied, "If we're talking about a major event, it would have to be the swarm of ghosts that attacked the village over a month ago. Nearly half the people died. Master was thinking of buying some land there at the time, but the new village head, Old Su, wouldn't agree."

"Not that. What else?" Zhang Huaizheng thought for a moment and asked again.

The steward's eyes lit up. "There is something. An Ancestral Spirit has appeared in Qingyu Village, called the Land God. He's quite famous, and I hear he's very efficacious. His name has already spread through the four villages. They even turned the altar into a temple. But those ignorant peasants don't know an Ancestral Spirit can only guard one place... Master, isn't that ridiculous?"

Zhang Huaizheng slapped his thigh. "That's it!" He thought for a moment, then asked, "Are there any believers in our township?"

"At first, no one believed, but later they heard he could send children and protect the harvest. A few households started believing and even carved wooden idols to worship at home!"

"Outrageous!" Zhang Huaizheng's face reddened with anger. "They have ancestors and yet they don't worship them. Instead, they worship some unknown thing like this?" His tone made the steward shrink his neck. He knew his master was truly furious.

At that moment, Zhang Huaizheng actually laughed in anger. "He can send children and protect the harvest, too? Ha! I know wealthy families in the county, and I've even visited the prefectural residence. I've never heard of anyone's Ancestral Spirit having such power. The Land God, huh..."

Then he said, "Spread the word: no one is to worship the Land God anymore. If I catch any Qingxi Township resident doing so, they'll face the full force of the family law!" The words seemed to crack from between his teeth, sending a chill through the room. He had figured it out: this was what his ancestor had warned him about. The Land God was stealing his family's incense offerings. That made him an enemy to the death.

The steward's face turned pale, and he repeatedly agreed. He knew that if the ancestral hall was opened and the family law invoked, someone could easily be beaten to death. The county generally wouldn't interfere in such matters.

The steward was just about to leave when Zhang Huaizheng said, "You wanted to go to Qingyu Village to collect rent, didn't you? Go! Take more retainers with you. Collect eighty percent of the harvest, and tell them that if they still want to farm Zhang land, they'd better tear down that Land God Temple!"

The steward trembled. He wanted to kneel and swear his loyalty, saying he hadn't meant to do that, or to argue that it was against the rules. But when he saw the cold gleam in his master's eyes, his heart chilled and he swallowed his words. He kowtowed. "Yes. This old servant will see it done!" He backed out carefully, his body half-bent.

Steward Old Zhang left the room. After turning it over in his mind, he still couldn't figure out the whole story, but it was certainly connected to the previous night. Once he put the pieces together, he had a decent idea. He made up his mind and first ordered the servants to spread the news. Then he gathered the retainers and headed for Qingyu Village.

The countryside was unsettled at the time, and wealthy households all kept retainers. The Zhang household's men were no exception. They didn't farm, and their families had been brought to live on the Zhang estate, where they were treated extremely well. Their only duties were patrolling the estate, practicing with blades and staves, and honing their strength. They were well fed, too. Zhang Huaizheng had even gone to the county to hire a martial arts instructor to train them for a month. When he called them out now, every one of them was sturdy and imposing, radiating a fierce, menacing air.

When the people nearby saw them, they didn't think they were going to collect rent. They looked more like they were on their way to pick a fight.

When they reached Qingyu Village, they called in the tenants. There were over a dozen households, nearly half the village—though naturally, only the poorest half. Those who owned enough land to feed themselves wouldn't become tenants.

The land around Qingyu Village amounted to just over three hundred mu in total. The Zhao family owned a third of it, giving them a voice in the village. Once the steward explained why they had come, the tenants erupted in an uproar.

Qi Da was also a tenant of the Zhao family. He timidly stepped forward, knelt, and kowtowed. "Please show mercy, great master! Haven't you always taken fifty percent? We still have to pay the imperial taxes. We truly can't afford this. Please leave us a way to live!"

The steward sneered. "Since the land belongs to the Zhangs, the master decides how much you pay. But if you want things to stay as they were, you can. The master said that if you tear down that Land God Temple, the rent will go back to fifty percent."

Someone immediately shouted, "How can we do that? The Land God protects our lives..."

The steward smiled faintly. "You used to get by with an altar, didn't you? Just tear down the Land God Temple and leave the altar. It'll still protect you all!"

Qi Da glanced at the retainers behind the steward, shrank his neck, and said softly, "But there are so few of us. The rest of the village won't agree..."

The steward's eyes lit up. This man was a coward; he had found his guide. If he could force Qi Da to take the lead and tear down the Land God Temple, it would become an internal matter for Qingyu Village. Then he could both do the job well and distance himself from the main blame. After all, he had heard the Land God was very efficacious, and he was a little uneasy himself.

The steward's face hardened. "You're a resident of Qingyu Village, too. Go tear down the Land God Temple for me. Don't worry; there'll be something in it for you!"

He signaled with his eyes. The retainers understood, seized Qi Da, and carried him toward the Land God Temple in the village.