MLMD -Chapter 333 A Thunderous Strike

As the magistrate of a small county with a population of only a few tens of thousands, Jiang Gan usually did not have much official business to deal with. Aside from being busy during the autumn grain collection, his days were generally uneventful. Of course, from time to time bandit troubles would crop up around the county, but these were nothing serious. As the saying went, “harsh lands breed unruly folk”—this place was poor, after all. Whenever bandits appeared, the county militia and yamen runners would be sent out to put on a show and make a few rounds. No one ever truly intended to wipe out the bandits completely; everyone understood that it was impossible.

Thus, aside from the fact that there wasn’t much oil to skim from the position, being a county magistrate was fairly stable. But ever since Hong Antong led six thousand government troops to station themselves in the county, trouble had followed. It couldn’t be said that these soldiers had atrocious discipline—arson, murder, and pillage were not things they did—but petty theft, stealing chickens and dogs, or peeping at young wives and unmarried girls bathing were common occurrences. In just a few days, Jiang Gan had already received dozens of complaints from the people accusing the soldiers, leaving him extremely distressed. However, since this was by order of Governor Hong, he endured it. But now Hong Antong was actually threatening him with military discipline—this crossed the line.

Staring straight at Hong Antong, Jiang Gan said each word deliberately: “General Hong, this official does not have such large quantities of grain to supply the army. You, a mere military man, have no authority to punish this official with military regulations. If you have the ability, go ahead and memorialize Governor Hong to strip me of my office. Otherwise, don’t even think about taking a single grain of rice from me.”

Hong Antong, as Hong Chengchou’s trusted subordinate, was usually treated with great courtesy—even a fifth-rank prefect would be polite to him. Yet today he was being rebuked by a tiny seventh-rank county magistrate. He drew the long saber from his waist, a trace of cold killing intent flashing in his eyes, and said slowly, “Magistrate Jiang, do you know that disobeying military orders warrants beheading?”

“Beheading?” Jiang Gan sneered, pointing at his own neck disdainfully. “Fine. Jiang so-and-so’s fine head is right here. If you want it, take it quickly—otherwise, I’m afraid you won’t have the chance later.”

“You—!”

Now it was Hong Antong who was stuck. Over the years he had followed Hong Chengchou all over the empire, and he knew well that civil officials looked down on military officers from the bottom of their hearts. Even though he now commanded the Governor’s Standard Camp as a personal guard commander, if he dared to kill a seventh-rank county magistrate without authorization, even Hong Chengchou wouldn’t be able to protect him.

But Hong Antong was no pushover. He might not have learned much else in his years as a soldier, but he had mastered the tricks of a hardened troop bully. He sneered. “Fine. If you won’t supply the army, then don’t blame this official for ordering local requisitioning. When something happens, don’t think you can escape responsibility.”

“You dare!”

Jiang Gan flew into a rage. The words “local requisitioning” sounded light, but they meant tearing off the last fig leaf—letting the soldiers loot openly. Once an army lost restraint, who knew what horrors they would commit? Jiang Gan knew this all too well.

Pointing at Hong Antong, Jiang Gan was shaking with anger. “You brute! If you dare to let your troops seize grain, I will certainly memorialize the court to have you arrested and imprisoned!”

Hong Antong curled his lip. “Good. Then I’ll drag you down with me—you won’t escape a charge of dereliction of duty either.”

The Ming dynasty had always valued civil officials over military ones. Since the mid-Ming period, all military powers—supplies, logistics, personnel appointments—had been tightly controlled by civil officials, like shackles locked around the necks of generals. As a result, military men had no dignity when facing civil officials. Even the famed general Qi Jiguang addressed Grand Secretary Zhang Juzheng in letters as “your humble gate-dog, Qi so-and-so….” If even such a national hero had to demean himself so, it showed how low the status of generals was.

But nothing was absolute. There was also the saying, “When a scholar meets a soldier, reason breaks down.” Once generals decided to go all out, civil officials were the ones who panicked. Seeing that Hong Antong was determined to drag him down as well, Jiang Gan grew anxious. He dared not imagine what would happen if six thousand soldiers were unleashed to loot the county. Ironically, by the late Ming, with internal and external crises, military power had gradually grown. The court might hesitate to execute generals, but killing civil officials was done without mercy. If such an incident really occurred, Jiang Gan knew one thing for sure: he would certainly die.

After taking a deep breath, Jiang Gan finally said, “Fine… this official can help you gather grain. But you must guarantee that your soldiers are strictly restrained and cause no trouble. Otherwise, even if I have to die, I’ll drag you down with me.”

Seeing Jiang Gan finally give in, a triumphant smile appeared on Hong Antong’s face. “Of course. This official guarantees it. As long as there’s grain, I won’t let those little bastards run wild.”

With the grain issue settled, Hong Antong left in high spirits, leaving Jiang Gan behind in the yamen grinding his teeth. What they did not know was that less than fifty li away, a fully armed army was quietly advancing toward them…

Night once again blanketed the land, hiding everything in darkness. Shaguo County was no exception. Its defenses were now under the control of Hong Antong’s troops. On the low city walls, more than a dozen soldiers patrolled in a line. Torches were lit every thirty paces, illuminating the surroundings.

In a clump of grass not far from the walls, a head popped up. Holding binoculars and observing the walls for a long while, the man said, “Can’t tell at a glance, but these soldiers are pretty alert—much better than ordinary troops.”

Another voice chimed in, “My lord, these brutes are Hong Chengchou’s elite guards. If they were as useless as local militias, wouldn’t that tarnish his reputation?”

At that moment, the moon finally emerged from the clouds, casting its light on the two men—it was Chu Di and Jiang He.

Hai Lanzhu was always the type to act immediately once she made up her mind. After deciding to confront Hong Chengchou head-on, she swiftly drew up a plan: send Chu Di with three thousand troops straight at Shaguo County. When Chu Di’s elite force arrived after a forced march, it was already late the next night.

Watching the soldiers on the wall patrolling in neat steps, Chu Di knew this would be a tough fight. The walls weren’t high or thick, but without siege equipment, three thousand men couldn’t take them quickly.

Time was pressing. Behind him were three thousand troops—if they didn’t act before dawn, even a fool would notice them. Someone suggested tricking the gates open at night, but Chu Di immediately kicked the man. This wasn’t some romanticized novel—no one would open the gates at night unless they wanted to die.

In the end, Jiang He offered a suggestion.

“Since we can’t get in at night, why not go in during the day?”

“During the day?”

A strange smile appeared on Jiang He’s face. “Yes… in broad daylight—swaggering in.”

For Chu Di and his special force, the night was long. When dawn came and the sun rose, Shaguo County’s gates finally opened. The soldiers acting as guards were clearly not very conscientious.

One soldier asked his companion, “Hey… have you noticed that no one’s entering the city today? A few days ago it was packed as soon as the gates opened.”

The other replied lazily, “Who knows? Who cares? Fewer people means we can relax.”

That made sense. Though puzzled, the soldier shrugged and said nothing more.

Just then, more than a dozen commoners slowly approached the gate—some carrying shoulder poles, some firewood, others pushing manure carts. When they reached the gate, the soldiers stopped them.

“Stop. What are you doing?”

“Honored officer, we’re locals. We’re entering the city to sell some goods,” the leader said obsequiously.

The soldier looked them over, saw nothing unusual, and waved them through. “Wait!”

A platoon leader stepped out, frowning as he examined the group carefully.

“Boss, what’s wrong?” a soldier asked.

“I feel something’s off,” the platoon leader muttered, circling them again.

The soldier shrugged. “Boss, why bother? We’re already unlucky enough guarding the gate for those useless officials. Being diligent won’t earn us more pay. Just let them in.”

After some thought, the platoon leader waved them through. He didn’t notice that as he did so, the hands gripping shoulder poles were tense, veins bulging.

As they nearly passed through completely, the platoon leader suddenly shouted, “Something’s wrong—these people are suspicious! Stop!”

It was too late. The man carrying firewood dropped his load, ripped it apart, and drew a gleaming saber. The man with the manure cart tipped it over, revealing spears. Weapons in hand, they charged the gate guards, killing cries shaking the air.

“Enemy attack!”

As chaos erupted, countless soldiers in dark gray armor surged toward the gate from outside. The alarm bell rang, throwing the entire county into turmoil.

The platoon leader fought fiercely, confident in his skill, but he was wrong. The attackers formed strange diamond-shaped formations, their spears striking like venomous snakes. His men fell one by one. Soon cavalry thundered in, and he realized the gate was lost.

Desperate, he shouted, “Whose troops are you? Even if I die, let me die knowing!”

Minutes later, he was dead—trampled into pulp beneath charging horses.

Shaguo County fell. Hong Antong, woken by alarms, rushed to muster his men, but it was too late. In the ensuing battle, he was killed by volley fire. His troops suffered over a thousand casualties; the rest surrendered. Chu Di’s force paid just over sixty casualties to annihilate this elite unit.

News soon reached the capital. The court was stunned. Emperor Chongzhen smashed several treasured porcelain pieces in rage.

Hong Chengchou’s memorial followed, demanding the immediate stripping of Yue Yang’s title and authority, and the retaking of Shanxi’s northern route under direct court control. The court erupted into chaos, and countless greedy eyes turned toward that reportedly wealthy land.