Wang Yan clasped his hands behind his back and strolled leisurely through the fields.
Not far away, many people were using measuring tapes to survey the land, confirming it acre by acre. In the village behind them, everyone had gathered together to be registered one by one.
And it was not merely registration. At the same time, the rules were being explained to the common people.
They were told that the land currently being assessed was their land, and private sales were forbidden. They would also have to pay taxes on the land they now possessed. If anyone held land for the gentry and failed to pay the taxes, the one whose family would be ruined was himself.
But now that the land had been assessed, even if commoners were holding land on behalf of the gentry, it was still registered under the commoners' names. The county recognized nothing else; it recognized only the official documents. Whoever's name was written on the deed owned the land.
For that very reason, after this policy was announced, dozens of local gentry households died—every last member of their families was wiped out. It was a truly miserable sight.
Later, as the news spread, and since there were ultimately few people willing to sacrifice their lives rather than their wealth, the situation stabilized. The various local gentry and wealthy households swallowed their anger and reluctantly accepted it.
Of course, they had no choice but to accept it.
For one thing, they did not dare let the land under their names exceed the permitted limit. If Wang Yan found an opening, he would absolutely crush them to death. Forget anything else—fines alone could bankrupt them.
For another, they had divided their land among their household tenants and servants. Even the commoners who had fraudulently registered