Chapter 435: The Salt Artisans' Decision
Xing Honglang laughed. "Don't be afraid, keep moving forward. That stronghold is ours."
"What?" The salt artisans gasped in alarm. "It's yours? This... we're just selling some illegal salt. Is it really necessary to go to such lengths?"
Xing Honglang chuckled, not bothering to explain, and continued to lead the group forward.
Around the stronghold, cleanup work was still underway. Several bodies were being carried out, one with its eyes grotesquely bulging. Xing Honglang frowned and asked a sentry on the watchtower, "What happened while I was away?"
The sentry replied with a smile, "Commander Xing, you're back! Not long ago, Old Zhang Fei, from Bu Zhan Ni's Fifth Company, attacked our stronghold. These dead men are his subordinates."
Xing Honglang nodded.
Hearing this, the salt artisans were inwardly stunned. So, rebels had attacked this place? Was this a joke? Rebels usually came in forces of thousands, sometimes tens of thousands, yet they were defeated by salt smugglers? This Commander Xing was truly terrifying.
In their eyes, Xing Honglang's image began to transform into something formidable.
Just then, the gate opened, and Gao Chuwu leaped out, spreading his arms toward Xing Honglang. "Honglang!"
With a 'thump,' they embraced.
The salt artisans: "!!!"
Xing Honglang's formidable image as a great salt boss instantly shattered into a thousand pieces, impossible to reassemble.
"You're the salt artisans, aren't you? Hurry and bring the salt carts into the stronghold," Old Nanfeng called out with a laugh from a distance. "Don't stare at those two; it'll make them uncomfortable."
The salt artisans thought, *Embracing each other so openly at the stronghold gate, completely oblivious to everyone else—how is that 'uncomfortable' because of a crowd?*
However, they decided not to voice that thought and obediently got to work.
Large numbers of salt carts were pushed into the stronghold. Guided by the militia, they arrived at the warehouse district. The salt artisans lifted the salt bags from their carts and carried them to the designated areas. As they moved, their eyes scanned the warehouse. What they saw shocked them: enormous piles of grain, truly mountains of it.
Zao Ying called out to Gao Chuwu, "Hey, stop hugging your wife and get to work! Your wife promised these salt artisans fifty catties of flour as transportation wages. Arrange for someone to distribute it; they're waiting eagerly."
Gao Chuwu finally released Xing Honglang, turned with a joyful grin, and ordered a soldier behind him, "Go, arrange a squad to help them distribute the grain."
The soldier quickly departed.
Soon, a squad of soldiers arrived in the warehouse district, took flour from the sacks, weighed out fifty catties, bagged it, and handed it to the salt artisans one by one.
Fifty catties of flour was not light, and it would take considerable effort to carry it home, but the salt artisans wouldn't dream of complaining it was too heavy. They worried it might be too light!
Each one cheered with delight.
One salt artisan, a man in his fifties, cradled a sack of flour, deeply moved, tears streaming down his face. "When working for the officials, how much labor would it take to get this much flour? I've made up my mind: I'm not going back to the village. I'm going to work for Commander Xing, and I'll go make salt at Xiao Lake!"
The other salt artisans, who had harbored doubts before, now had no reservations. They just planned to return home, gather their wives and children, secretly slip out of their salt village, and never go back. From now on, making salt for the smugglers by Xiao Lake seemed like a far better future.
The old salt artisan, still teary-eyed, suddenly saw a middle-aged monk passing by. The monk's face looked remarkably familiar. He suddenly remembered someone, cried out in surprise, and rushed out, grabbing the monk's robes.
The monk turned his head. "Amitabha! Goodness gracious! Why are you holding this humble monk, benefactor?"
The old salt artisan trembled all over. "Are you... the 'Man-Eating Salt Owl' He Ping, the great leader who terrorized Puzhou twenty years ago? I once sold you illegal salt; do you remember me? Zhao Xiaohei from Xichai Village... A government soldier tried to kill me, and you slew thirteen soldiers to save my life!"
The monk smiled and shook his head, pressing his palms together. "Benefactor, you've mistaken me for someone else. My monastic name is Zhan Seng, and I've been a resident monk at Pujiu Temple. How could I be some Man-Eating Salt Owl? Look at these robes; I am a monk. I commit no killings."
The old salt artisan replied, "Oh? Is that so? My apologies, I must have mistaken you."
Zhan Seng smiled benignly and nodded, his expression full of compassion.
The old salt artisan said, "Ah, Master, you are so kind and approachable, you certainly can't be He Ping. I was mistaken." The young monks and porters nearby wiped sweat from their brows, thinking, *No, no, you weren't mistaken. It's just that this fellow hasn't seen blood.*
Xing Honglang had secretly given an order to the militia: intentionally allow the salt artisans to wander freely around the stronghold.
The salt artisans walked over and saw hundreds of warhorses grazing. They turned again and saw over a hundred arquebusiers maintaining their firearms. Turning yet again, they spotted hundreds of elderly, weak, and women cooking meals. Down by the river, several hundred laborers were busy constructing a wooden dock.
This place was truly remarkable.
This was no mere smuggler's den; it was exactly like a well-organized government military camp, and it was managed far better than any government camp they'd ever seen.
Government soldiers only oppressed common laborers, swaggering about like arrogant bullies, ordering the laborers around. But the soldiers of these salt smugglers in the stronghold all had kind faces, often lending a hand to the common folk and helping with small tasks.
They even spoke courteously: "No need for formalities. Our parents are ordinary people too; we are all the people's soldier-children."
Listen to that! How pleasant those words were. They were utterly unlike the vile words that spewed from the mouths of government soldiers.
After their tour, the salt artisans were even more convinced: following Commander Xing was the right path; only here could they live a good life.
A group of salt artisans gathered, discussed for a while, and finally sent their leader to Xing Honglang. "Commander Xing, we've talked it over and decided we're all going to follow you from now on."
Xing Honglang smiled. "You are most welcome!"
The salt artisan said, "We've been thinking, if we carry the fifty catties of grain you've given us back to our salt village, it's likely it'll be confiscated, with the officials taking ninety percent. So, we'd like to leave this fifty catties of grain here for now. After we return to our village to gather our wives and children, we'd trouble Commander Xing to spend some money to bribe the guards and let us slip out... Then, from now on, we'll dig ponds and sun-dry salt by Xiao Lake."
Xing Honglang agreed, "Excellent! A gentleman's word, swift as a galloping horse. It's settled. I will send a cavalry squad to escort you back to your village, and then I'll have Tie Niaofei bribe the guards. You may escape as you wish. From now on, you'll produce salt for me, and I will not treat you unfairly."
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