Hoarding Thunder, Planning Far Ahead; Seeking to Open Ignorance, Revealing Heavenly Light

Du Heng's party of over thirty had hurried less than three li along the dirt road before their path was blocked by a vast, dark mass of people.

The morning mist had yet to disperse. Beneath the gray-blue dawn light, several hundred tenant farmers knelt in the middle of the road, their hoes, shoulder poles, and wooden clubs standing like a forest—as though thorns had grown straight from the earth.

Men and women, young and old, all sallow-faced and raggedly dressed. Yet every one of them had reddened eyes, their expressions fervent and grief-stricken.

At the very front, Old Zhou stood hunched over, holding a rust-covered hoe high in both hands as he wept and howled hoarsely, "You can't measure the land! You can't seize the fields! Master has supported us for ten years—we can't repay kindness with ingratitude!"

"Give us back our land!"

"You wolves and tigers of the Qin State, get out!"

Weeping, curses, and hoarse roars blended into one, echoing over the thousand qing of fertile fields and making the wild trees by the road tremble and rustle.

Faced with this wall of weeping hundreds, the more than thirty County Soldiers involuntarily halted. Some loosened their grips on their swords; others exchanged looks, not daring to take another half-step forward.

Du Heng reined in his horse and looked at the sea of people before him, his Adam's apple working violently.

These were not blades and weapons, yet they were thornier than blades and weapons.

This was the human heart—hundreds of minds washed clean for decades, the "human shield" Gongsun Du had raised for decades.

"Post the edict!"

Du Heng suddenly gritted his teeth and vaulted down from his horse. His voice trembled with strain. "Post the edict on the trees by the road! Post it on the