It was already past eight in the morning, and the day's work and life had begun.
The market had grown lively as well.
There were servants from noble and wealthy households out shopping, hawkers calling out their wares, shopkeepers drinking tea by their doors, beggars kneeling on the ground, common women strolling in groups, and farmers who had clearly risen early to come in from outside the city.
Looking at this market, it still carried something of a flourishing dynasty's grandeur.
Yet when Wang Yan arrived with his men, the crowd immediately fell into disarray, chickens scattering and dogs barking, as though they had suddenly reached the final days of a dynasty plagued by harsh levies and ruthless exactions.
Wang Yan paid no heed to any of that. With his hands behind his back, he strolled into the first shop—a grain store selling rice, flour, grain, and oil.
"Greetings, officers, greetings, officers." The shopkeeper came forward with a smile, cupping his hands in salute.
Wang Yan smiled and nodded. "We won't inspect the books today. Estimate the amount yourself and pay the sanitation fee. But let me warn you—don't think of trying to fool us. If we inspect your books later and the figures don't match, if the discrepancy is too great, then when the fines start coming down, even the owner behind you will be ruined."
"Yes, yes, the officer is right. It's just... this is a grain store, and the profit margins are already thin..."
"I understand. You don't want to pay the sanitation fee in full, is that it?" Wang Yan patted him on the shoulder, then said, "Where are the Fire Armor warriors?"
"Here, sir!"
A burly man stepped out from beside Wang Yan. His name was Zhao Erniu, and he was the leader of these