The danger of mutiny lay not in the disorder itself, but in its spread.
If a single torch went unchecked, every camp would follow its example, and all three armies would be ablaze.
On the night of December eighteenth, at Zhang Family Market in Ningxia.
The fire first broke out at the Land-Clearing Unit's quarters.
A hundred or so veteran soldiers surrounded the compound with torches in hand, Mo Dao tucked at their waists, their faces fierce and their eyes murderous.
They shouted in unison, "While our fields remain, we live! When our fields go, we die! If the court takes away our livelihood, we won't let it live either!"
Then they shouted, "Burn it! Burn every last document!"
They hurled their torches, and flames leaped into the sky, lighting the night like day.
At the commander-in-chief's headquarters, Zhou Quan was discussing matters over a map with his officers.
Suddenly, the outer door burst open with a bang, and a mounted courier stumbled in, his armor hanging askew. Before he could catch his breath, he cried:
"G-General! Zhang... they've rebelled! They've rebelled!"
Zhou Quan's gaze sharpened, but he remained seated upright, his hand resting on his sword. "Who's rebelled? Take your time. The sky isn't going to fall."
Seeing Zhou Quan so composed, the soldier swallowed hard. "The veterans at Zhang Family Market gathered a hundred or so men and surrounded the Land-Clearing Unit's quarters!
"Some of them set fires, and they wounded two clerks with their blades!
"The Land Clearance censor's men are trapped inside. By now, by now I'm afraid they can't get out!"
"What about the other settlements?" Zhou Quan raised his eyes. "Any movement at Liu Family Settlement or Ma Family Settlement?"
"When I came, I could faintly see people moving over there too.