MLMD -Chapter 260 The Sky of the Ming Is About to Change

“If there’s nothing else, we’re going to start shooting!”

The words hit the official like a hammer to the chest. He pointed at Wu Chengfeng in disbelief, his voice trembling: “You… what are you saying? You dare to kill people in front of me! Do you even know who I am?”

Wu Chengfeng glanced at him with disdain and shook his head. “No… and I don’t want to know. Besides, this has nothing to do with our killing.”

“Outrageous!”

A roar erupted from the middle-aged official’s chest, finally escaping his mouth. “I am Yang Sichang, Minister of War! Under the broad daylight and the heavens above, I want to see who dares to kill in front of me!”

“Really?” Wu Chengfeng sneered. He turned to glance at a nearby company captain and nodded heavily. The captain understood immediately; a flash of fierceness appeared in his eyes. Drawing his long sword from his waist, he pointed it at the main gate and shouted: “First squad, open fire!”

“Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!”

White smoke and crisp gunfire erupted like roasted beans. Following immediately were screams of terror. When the smoke cleared, the servants who had stood in the gate trying to block the soldiers were mauled as if bitten by dogs. Over a dozen lay in pools of blood, seven or eight were killed on the spot, and the survivors screamed in agony. The rest froze for a moment until someone shouted: “The soldiers are killing! Run!”

At that shout, the remaining twenty or so servants scattered in all directions. The previously tightly blocked gate swung open. The company captain waved his hand, and hundreds of soldiers, muskets in hand, pursued the fleeing servants. Their mission was to locate the mansion’s silver treasury and granary as quickly as possible, pack everything, and transport it out of Beijing.

The operation was executed with such natural efficiency that Yang Sichang and his dozen or so accompanying officials were left dumbfounded.

Yang Sichang could not find words to describe the scene. Shaking, he pointed at Wu Chengfeng and shouted, “Rebellion… rebellion! Arrest all these traitorous scoundrels!”

“Arrest them all!”

He shouted again, but no one responded. Turning around, he saw his ten-odd soldiers staring at him as if he were a fool. Only then did he remember: the other side had thousands of fully armed, well-trained soldiers, while his small group could be drowned by a single man’s saliva if they fought.

A flush of shame burned Yang Sichang’s face. He had always prided himself on his cunning, a seasoned veteran of the bureaucracy, yet he could not even grasp the situation before him. It would be laughable to outsiders.

Yet, determined not to lose face, Yang Sichang maintained a stern expression. “I do not know what gives you such boldness to openly plunder others’ property, but mark my words, this is far from over. The court will not ignore this! If the emperor investigates, execution may be the lightest punishment—you might even risk extermination of your clan. Think carefully!” He openly threatened Wu Chengfeng.

Wu Chengfeng snorted and said lightly, “No need for you to worry, sir. I am also here under the emperor’s edict to collect supplies. And these wealthy merchants have hoarded grain and silver, planning to profiteer while the enemy surrounds the capital. Such unscrupulous merchants deserve a lesson. Besides, I am merely fulfilling the imperial decree—how can that be wrong?”

“You… you…”

Yang Sichang was too angry to speak. Here he was, Minister of War of the mighty Ming, feeling like a scholar confronted by a soldier. The emperor’s decree allowed the collection of supplies, not wanton killing—didn’t this man understand the sanctity of life? In Ming, even executing a common criminal required imperial approval; who gave them the right to kill freely?

Though furious, Yang Sichang knew that, despite his high rank, these rugged soldiers would not heed him. The gap in status and power was too vast; to argue now would only diminish his own stature.

He restrained his anger and said to Wu Chengfeng, “I will not argue with you. What about Yue Yang? Call him here—I want to speak with him!”

Wu Chengfeng replied lazily, “Sorry, Minister Yang, General Yue is out collecting supplies at Guazi Lane with his troops.”

“They split into two groups?” Yang Sichang groaned, feeling his head would explode. He could say no more and quickly jumped into his sedan chair, ordering the carriers to rush toward Guazi Lane.

After Yang Sichang left, Wu Chengfeng turned to his company captain. “We can’t linger here. Take the men, locate the silver treasury and granary of this merchant, pack everything, and leave immediately.”

“Sir, should we move on to the next house?” the captain asked in confusion.

“No, forget it. With the Minister of War here, do you think the court will watch us empty the city? Wait and see—soon General Yue will order us to withdraw. We stop while we’re ahead.” Wu Chengfeng said confidently.

Indeed, after a few years of experience, Wu Chengfeng had matured and broadened his perspective.

As he expected, half an hour later, a cavalryman arrived with Yue Yang’s orders, instructing Wu Chengfeng to transport the collected silver and grain out of the city.

Outside Beijing’s Chaoyang Gate, the sun had nearly reached the mountaintop, casting long shadows.

Yue Yang rode a magnificent white horse at the gate. Behind him were thousands of soldiers and hundreds of fully loaded carts. Facing him stood Minister of War Yang Sichang.

Looking at the young commander before him, Yang Sichang’s eyes flickered with anger, surprise, frustration, and regret. This man had taught the emperor and all officials in Beijing a lesson in audacity: a mere deputy general had led thousands of troops to raid dozens of wealthy households, sweeping up their silver and grain, ruthlessly punishing resisting servants. Such an event had not been heard of in over two centuries of Ming history.

What frustrated him further was that Yue Yang now boldly planned to leave with the spoils right in front of him.

Yue Yang remained calm, holding an imperial decree—Yang Sichang’s own orders instructing him to leave the city. Obediently, Yue Yang complied, withdrawing his troops with the collected supplies, while Yang Sichang personally “escorted” him with thousands of emergency troops.

Yue Yang saluted Yang Sichang and said softly, “Minister Yang, this subordinate takes his leave.”

Yang Sichang’s voice was hoarse, like words forced through clenched teeth: “Go… and do not return!”

Yue Yang smiled faintly, saluting again. “Minister Yang, I am merely carrying out the emperor’s edict to collect supplies in the capital. I hope any offense caused can be forgiven.”

Seeing Yue Yang’s calm smile, Yang Sichang wanted to punch him in the face but restrained himself—after all, he was the Minister of War, responsible for the empire’s million-strong army. Even if he could pierce Yue Yang’s heavy armor with his ceremonial sword, the soldiers around Yue Yang would shred him to pieces first.

Though he hated Yue Yang with all his heart, Yang Sichang forced a composed expression. He knew Yue Yang’s task was complete, and he had far more pressing matters: a flood of memorials, impeachment by censors, the emperor’s rage, and the court’s discussions—all would fall on him and his fellow ministers.

Yet despite it all, neither he nor the high-ranking officials could touch this audacious man, because the defense of Beijing still relied on Yue Yang and those soldiers the bureaucrats had long despised.

Watching Yue Yang’s figure slowly fade, he sighed: “The sky of the Ming is about to change.”