Chapter Fifty-Two: No Escape

Cao Yao had naturally been wanted by the authorities before, and not just once—many times, in fact. The sea arrest warrant traveled from Shanxi to Shaanxi. Yet, for him, such things were mere formalities, nothing more than empty words.

This was thanks to Squad Leader Du Wu, who was skilled in disguise. He could transform a Han into a Mongolian, a woman into a man. But that was not the real issue. In this era, capturing fugitives required more than just blocking the front and chasing from behind; the true heart of the operation lay in the tight-knit civilian organizations—the baojia system was the most crucial factor in tracking down criminals.

Cao Yao rarely separated from his men. With this band of veteran soldiers together, he held the key to evading capture.

As they reached the mountain pass, his uncle Cai Zhongpan was already waiting, though he had no idea how long he’d been there. He greeted them with a barrage of complaints, scolding Liu Chengzong for not sending word home about the sudden turn of events. The family had imagined the worst had happened on the road.

But his uncle barely had time to grumble before he caught sight of the crowd following behind Liu Chengzong. His eyes widened as he saw the procession—Cao Yao was leading throngs of people toward Black Dragon Mountain, shoulder to shoulder, supporting the old and carrying the young.

On the road into the mountains, Liu Chengzong explained the situation with the refugees, then, full of worry, took out the sea arrest warrant and told his uncle what had happened.

Unexpectedly, Cai Zhongpan laughed when he saw the warrant, as if a great weight had been lifted from his heart. He clapped his hands and said, “A good thing! It doesn’t matter what this official wants—there’s nothing about Ruji on here, nothing about him. My nephew-in-law hasn’t brought trouble to your aunt’s family.”

He was referring to his brother-in-law Chen Ruji, who had fled alongside him.

With this in mind, Cai Zhongpan felt at ease. “Tomorrow, Ruji will go to the county town, meet this official, see what he wants.”

His only dissatisfaction with the warrant was that the charges against him were complete nonsense.

He remembered the events of that day clearly. He’d shot and killed a petty officer in a fit of anger, perhaps wounded a few others during his escape, but nothing fatal. At most, he bore responsibility for two deaths, never eight.

Besides, he hadn’t stolen any silver.

Any official with sense would ponder just how heavy two hundred taels of silver really was. To wear winter clothing, carry arms, bear a pack, and attempt an assassination while carrying more than ten pounds of silver; to kill eight soldiers, then escape at leisure while surrounded—that, honestly, was not him, but a war god.

In fact, the warrant should not be called a sea arrest—rather, a warning to Yan’an Prefecture: beware, a war god is coming your way.

Which commoner, for the paltry reward of five silver coins, would dare provoke the man described in the warrant?

Cai Zhongpan certainly wouldn’t.

Returning to Xingpingli, the villagers needed rest, and so arrangements had to be made at the old temple on the edge of the village, or in a few dilapidated cave dwellings. Some tenants helped stoke the kangs, settling the refugees in temporarily; two families, with nowhere else to go, were taken home by Liu Chengzong.

The Liu family of Xingpingli had lived tolerably well—not luxurious or comfortable, but in times of disaster, being spared from hunger and cold was enough.

The turning point came when the two sons returned home. With outsiders present, the flow of information increased, and the unrest outside began to affect the villagers in the mountain valley.

Everyone tightened their belts and built fortifications atop the knolls; official troops came to demand grain, an adjacent village was massacred, and one calamity after another struck with dizzying speed, forcing people to adapt.

So when Liu Chengzong brought strangers to Xingpingli, the neighbors and elders weren’t surprised at all. With a smile, they rose to inform Liu Chengzong’s mother, “Sister-in-law, the little lion is back, and he’s brought some outsiders.”

The family was accustomed to such things.

His elder brother Chengzu, not even knowing what had happened, had already moved Chengyun’s luggage into the brothers’ room.

Master Liu, leaning on a small cane, took his place in the central hall, quietly waiting for his son to explain.

This world had taught people to endure surprises with remarkable speed; nothing could shock them anymore.

As soon as Liu Chengzong entered the courtyard, he unfastened his armor, took off his leather belt, and entered the hall to greet his father. Liu Xiangyu laughed, “You went to the prefecture city, dressed for battle. Did you finish the land contract at the office?”

“Yes, Father, it’s all done. I didn’t want to wear armor—it’s getting hotter, and padded armor is suffocating. My horse is weak; at the border fortress, it couldn’t get enough to eat, so I took the chance to let it recover at home, lest it fail me when needed.

And, you wouldn’t believe it, outside the city, the fields are crawling with armed men in forbidden armor.”

Liu Xiangyu nodded slowly. Seeing the sweat on his son’s brow, he smiled, waving him to drink. “If all’s well, have some water. Your mother said you brought outsiders home. What’s that about?”

“It’s not just a few.”

Liu Chengzong took a bowl of cool tea from the table, drank deeply, wiped his mouth, and said, “Eighty mouths altogether. The prefecture’s new regulations for dealing with famine: anyone who buys a hundred mu of land must provide for one family of refugees. The intention was to make the big families bear the burden, but our little Liu family, pretending to be grand, got counted as a big house. So we have new tenants at Liu Village.”

He watched his father’s face carefully as he spoke.

He could confide his worries to Cao Yao, but before his father, obedience and reverence were ingrained in his bones.

He’d grown used to seeing others frown at this news these past days. The family had its own troubles, and the burden on his father was heavy; he feared that telling him would provoke rage or worsen his health.

“Mm…”

Master Liu exhaled, but did not complain as others might. He spoke slowly: “Good governance. Working together to overcome hardship—the prefecture should do so.”

He rose and led Liu Chengzong to the study, asking as they walked, “Now that they’re here, you must provide food. How many able-bodied men are among the eighty?”

“Thirty-four fit men, sixteen strong women, six elders, and twenty-four children.”

“Thirty-four, forty-six. Come with me.”

Liu Chengzong followed his father into the study, where the old man picked up a brush, saying, “The land here in Shaanxi is poor—labor is for the unfortunate. Farm work never stops; the strong must eat their fill. Sixty pounds of grain per month for each man; the rest, thirty to forty pounds. To last until July, you need at least seven thousand two hundred pounds.”

“And the border troops to feed—that’s another expense. The old temple village was looted by bandits. Our house can spare seven or eight shi, but it’s not enough. What do you intend to do?”

His father’s openness surprised Liu Chengzong.

Even support of seven or eight shi was a powerful gesture, given the limited resources at Black Dragon Mountain.

This emboldened Liu Chengzong. “I’d like to use the name of the northern militia to ask for donations from villages forty li up and down Panlong River. Each village would contribute three to eight shi, according to their households, and all would build beacon towers. When alarm is raised—”

Liu Xiangyu’s face remained calm; he sat behind the desk and chuckled. “Are you mad? What nonsense.”

The court’s tolerance of local militias hinged on two points: money and arms, and third, command authority belonged to the state—in truth, it was all about financial power. With financial power, any local force could break away from the court.

He, Liu Xiangyu, could organize as many militia drills as he pleased, but when the central government couldn’t pay its own soldiers, asking other villages for grain donations was utterly absurd.

Yet Liu Chengzong persisted, “When bandits appear, I’ll lead the border cavalry to attack. From Liu Village, twenty-five li north, sixteen li south—within an hour of alarm, we can reach any village and ensure they aren’t massacred.”

Hearing this, Liu Xiangyu shook his head, “It’s not impossible, but it must be handled privately. The name of the northern militia must never be mentioned.

Unless you can get the prefecture’s approval, go ask and see which office will grant it? If the magistrate says nothing, even if bandits pass through the mountain pass, I have no authority to lead the militia in response, let alone seek donations in secret. You and your brother are bold indeed.”

Master Liu sighed, raising his hand to point at Liu Chengzong, “Tell this to Captain Cao as well. There are other ways to get grain, but do not bring disaster. The government troops may not dare to fight bandits, but they will hunt you. If they can’t, the hundreds of people at Black Dragon Mountain won’t escape.”