Chapter Fifty: Conspiracy

While Qi Jun and Sun Jiu were discussing the plentiful spoils taken at Panlong Ridge, a secret conversation among Zhao, the magistrate’s adviser, and several wealthy gentlemen was taking place in a side room of a small courtyard in Anqiang County.

“Adviser Zhao, at this point, there’s really nothing left for us to discuss, is there?” A slightly plump gentleman broke the silence, speaking first.

The moment news from Panlong Ridge reached the county, these local magnates had sensed a shift in the winds of power. They had already met privately several times, convinced that Magistrate Song’s position was now precarious. All of them were biding their time, waiting for Officer Feng’s political inquiry in Ding’an Prefecture to conclude, so they could seize the opportunity to renegotiate the division of interests.

“Boss Meng, let me remind you: Master Song is still the magistrate of Anqiang,” Adviser Zhao said with a scowl, shooting a sidelong glance at Meng.

This Meng was none other than Meng Wanhe, the wealthiest man in Anqiang. The recruitment order that Feng Qinian had Qi Jun sign had been funded by him. That day, when Song Xi had led men to the county constable’s office, using a street brawl as a pretext to demand Qi Jun’s handover, he was thwarted by the very recruitment order Meng had financed. Song Xi, bested by a mere piece of paper, left the office fuming and quickly stormed off to Meng’s residence.

Merchants are driven by profit; Meng had only put up the money because Feng Qinian had offered better terms. Though his manner toward Song Xi had been outwardly polite, Song Xi had no recourse. After all, a merchant could spend his money as he pleased, and it broke no law in the Empire of Liang.

But now Song Xi could not afford to dwell on his grievances or whether there had been any trickery between himself and Meng. He could only use Adviser Zhao to negotiate new terms with these gentlemen.

“Adviser Zhao, my apologies, but I have a private room reserved at the Pear Blossom Garden tonight—the show’s about to begin and I can’t stay,” Meng Wanhe said breezily, rising and cupping his hands in farewell.

The other merchants, seeing Meng prepare to leave, stood to go as well.

“Wait, gentlemen. Aren’t you worried that Master Song might report your misdeeds to the prefecture?” Adviser Zhao bit out the words, his face cold.

At this, the merchants paused, startled. Meng turned back, eyeing Adviser Zhao with suspicion. “Adviser Zhao, what do you mean by that?”

“See for yourselves,” Zhao replied with a cold sneer, pulling a letter from his sleeve and handing it to Meng.

Meng hesitated, then took the letter. A quick scan and his face went pale, sweat beading on his brow.

Song Xi had enlisted their help to control the bandits at Panlong Ridge, laundering stolen goods through their hands. He had secretly kept copies of all correspondence and ledgers. The letter in Meng’s hand was one such piece, instructing Meng to tell the bandits to set up checkpoints on the county’s borders to intercept fleeing townsfolk.

“This... How is this possible? Didn’t Song destroy every letter right in front of us?” Meng, realizing he’d been deceived, frantically tore the letter to shreds. He was furious, but helpless.

The court was perpetually short on funds and only needed a plausible excuse to wring money from wealthy men like them. If Song Xi decided to drag everyone down with him, their ruin would come overnight.

“Dealing with slippery men like you, did you think Master Song wouldn’t keep a backup? You fools. The letters he burned were nothing but trivial paperwork,” Adviser Zhao said with a sinister grin. “There are plenty more where that came from. Tear it up if you wish.”

“What is it you want from us?” Meng asked, wiping his brow.

“All these years of cooperation, and you still have tricks up your sleeve—shameful!” one merchant behind Meng burst out angrily.

The rest, all implicated to varying degrees, began muttering nervously.

“Let’s just sit down and talk this through,” Adviser Zhao said, rubbing his hands and gesturing toward the chairs.

“This is the last time... Whatever it is, once it’s done, all those letters must be handed over to us!” Meng said, glancing at the others before sitting down with a sigh.

“It’s simple: have Leopard Splitter’s gang kill someone for Master Song,” Adviser Zhao said, narrowing his eyes as he slid a slip of paper onto the table.

“Kill someone?” Meng stared in shock at the paper, his expression changing as he read it. “You want to kill... him?!”

The others looked on in confusion as Meng, his hand shaking, burned the note to ash in the candle flame.

“This man has long been at odds with Master Song. It’s because of him that Master Song is in this predicament! But you needn’t panic—I’m not asking you to do the deed. Just contact Leopard Splitter, pay him, and let him handle it,” Adviser Zhao said, his gaze contemptuous.

“If Master Song is so capable, why not do it himself?” Meng protested, knowing how serious this was. “Anyone else would be one thing, but this man is now Officer Feng’s favored aide. Feng might even recommend him higher up. What then?”

“To be frank, Master Song has spent all his money currying favor in official circles. He has little left,” Adviser Zhao said, his expression darkening with a trace of resignation. “Contacting Leopard Splitter is up to you now. I leave it in your hands.”

With that, Adviser Zhao cupped his hands as a farewell and swept from the room before anyone could speak.

“Bah, who does Zhao think he is? Just a dog at Song Xi’s side. Did you see the way he acted?” one merchant spat as Zhao left.

“The master can barely protect himself and yet his dog remains so loyal,” another grumbled.

“If only we’d known it would come to this—we would never have gotten tangled up with Song!” someone lamented.

“Feng may not be any better. We need to think of something—there’s no sense going down with Song Xi.”

“Enough!” Meng Wanhe snapped, cutting short their curses. “What’s the point of this bickering now? Does anyone know where Leopard Splitter is hiding? We need to track him down first.”

“Leopard Splitter? More like a burrowing rat these days—who knows which crack he’s cowering in,” a merchant muttered in frustration.

“Who the hell dares call me that? If your tongue’s a bother, I’ll cut it out for you myself!”

No sooner had he spoken than a threatening shout sounded from the roof above.

Everyone in the room froze, looking up in shock, but saw nothing but the rafters.

At that moment, there was a thud in the courtyard outside, and the door was kicked open with a bang.

Startled, everyone turned toward the entrance.

A lean, short man with a murderous air strode in, glaring at each of them before fixing his gaze on one man in particular and advancing.

“L-Leopard Lord! I misspoke, I was wrong...” stammered the man who’d earlier called him a burrowing rat.

This little courtyard, a secret meeting spot for the bandit chief and the wealthy gentry, was familiar to Leopard Splitter. He’d come by before, and now, with his stronghold seized, his leader dead, and his brother captured, he’d been hiding in the hills for days, brimming with resentment. In desperation, he’d come to seek help from Meng Wanhe, only to stumble upon Adviser Zhao negotiating inside. Hearing himself slandered, he couldn’t contain his rage and leapt down into the room.

“L-Leopard Lord, forgive me...” the merchant stammered, terrified, cursing his own loose tongue.

Leopard Splitter, not in the mood to forgive, strode over to the hapless merchant, his mouth twisted in a wicked grin. He seized the man by the throat and slammed him face-up onto the table.

Instantly, the room fell silent. The others watched Leopard Splitter with bated breath, terrified he might really make good on his threat and sever a tongue then and there.