Chapter 41: The True Dragon, The True Dragon Has Manifested

Seeing Yun'er run over, the eldest boy following behind Gouzi instinctively took a few steps back in timidness. Strangely enough, relying on his older age, he was usually quite a little bully among the village children.

Yet now, seeing a child like Yun'er who clearly stood out from them, the boy felt a sense of timidity. Ever since last night, he had even looked at Gouzi differently.

Not just him, the younger brothers and sisters also spoke to Gouzi with a nervous shyness, and their parents treated Gouzi with absolute politeness—as politely as they once used to bow and scrape when negotiating next year's land rent with the Zhao family.

The eldest boy couldn't quite describe his mood; he only felt a bit of envy. It would have been great if he had been a bit younger back then. If he were younger, Father would have sold him off.

Right now, however, no one cared about the stray thoughts of a half-grown child. Thinking of Yun'er's earlier question, Gouzi first steadied the rushing Yun'er to keep him from falling, and then began to speak.

"Everyone came out once the grain was handed out this morning. When Uncle Jiang gave out the grain, he told them it was sent by Lord Li and not to be afraid.

Seeing bags and bags of grain immediately put people's minds at ease. They only kept asking when the men who had been swindled away by the horse-bandit cheat would come back, and quite a few even ran over to my house to ask about it."

Only then did Yun'er realize that to these people, anyone who could give them grain within the limits of their shallow understanding must be a good person. Coupled with how truly starved they had been for this period, now that they finally had something to eat, every household started lighting fires. With the rising smoke came a renewed sense of vitality.

"Liangzhou is frequently plundered by foreign tribes, and the temperament of the various villages is much more fierce and rugged than that of the Central Plains. Although Jiang Guang and his men walk about with sabers at their sides, they didn't hurt anyone all day, so the villagers aren't very afraid anymore." Uncle Li stepped forward, patted Yun'er's head, and explained.

These villagers were far more resilient than Yun'er had imagined.

The sky was growing darker, and some families were almost finished cooking their evening meal. A few dirty little children crowded around the stove, gazing pitifully at their mother.

"Don't you dare spill any!" a woman with a raspy voice scolded the children. Whenever she scooped the porridge, any drops that fell outside the earthen bowl were immediately wiped up with her hand and quickly brought to her mouth to be licked clean.

Even so, amidst the dim twilight, Yun'er could actually see looks of satisfaction on their faces. While eating, these people would chat and laugh, as if this were a wonderful scene in a golden age.

Yun'er kept silent and said nothing.

"Let's go, let's go check on the Zhao family first." Li Fu picked Yun'er up again and motioned for Deng Qiang to lead the way toward the Zhao family residence.

Most of the members of the Zhao family had been ruined by Ma Yi, and the few who were still alive were mainly gathered in the side rooms to study the truths of the Dietless Cult.

The ultimate goal of the Dietless Cult was to make people feel full without needing to eat—meaning they would never go hungry again in the future—and upon death, they would enter the Divine Realm of the Dietless God. The first step, however, was to cut out one's tongue after becoming a devout believer, as a sign that one would never need to eat again.

That was why Chen Mugen had witnessed such a terrifying scene that day.

What if someone died while cutting out their tongue? That simply meant they were not devout enough, or that the Dietless God was merciful and allowed them to enter the divine realm ahead of time.

There hadn't been time to deal with the members of the Zhao family yesterday. This time, as Li Fu carried Yun'er inside, the moment they crossed the threshold, they saw four or five main direct descendants of the Zhao family sitting cross-legged in the room, their mouths stained with blood and their faces entirely numb.

A large tripod was placed in the room, seemingly simmering something inside, and a pungent, choking smoke continuously drifted out, producing an effect somewhat similar to dry ice.

Yun'er covered his nose and took a look. Inside that large tripod were likely some sawdust mixed with medicinal powders being simmered; those powders were among the drugs used by the Dietless Cult to create the Emissaries of the Dietless.

To outsiders, it looked mystical, but Yun'er figured that once those medicinal powders were absorbed, they probably acted as pain relievers and nerve blockers, which was why the Zhao family members were sitting there in a daze. Once the powder finished simmering, they would likely be rolling all over the ground in agony.

"What does Yun'er plan to do with these people?"

Yun'er was still observing the condition of the Zhao family members when he heard Li Fu ask him.

Yun'er was utterly dumbfounded. You're asking me? I'm still just a child, sigh. Since you guys are here, aren't you the ones supposed to handle these matters?

Yun'er originally wanted to just let things slide, but no matter how he rolled his eyes, he could feel both his father and Uncle Li staring intently at him with serious expressions, clearly determined to make him say something.

Sigh.

Life is not easy, Yun'er sighed inwardly.

"Let's find a doctor to examine them first. The medicinal powder is almost burnt out anyway; save them if they can be saved." Yun'er thought of those captured deserters. "As for those deserters, I see them as simply trying to stay alive; following Ma Yi was just for a bite to eat, so there's no need to massacre them.

Later on, Father, you can tell them that you'll help them all settle down here in Long County. I noticed there is plenty of unowned wasteland outside Long County; we can have them go reclaim the land and farm."

Coming out of Long County, Yun'er had seen vast tracts of wasteland, which meant that here in Liangzhou, the primary characteristic was a vast territory with a sparse population.

Yun'er had previously thought that the Liang Dynasty had reached a point where the government was dysfunctional and the people were discordant, clearly presenting the spectacle of a dynasty in its twilight. Yet for the Liang Dynasty at this moment, such a situation had arisen not only because the previous two emperors happened to be incompetent and the current emperor was young, but also due to a tangle of various factors.

The Central Plains region enjoyed a favorable environment, which inevitably gathered a massive population, making severe land annexation the primary conflict. Land—the greatest wealth of this era—was concentrated almost entirely among a tiny upper-class population, leaving countless farmers without arable land and forcing them into displacement. At the same time, these upper-class elites had various channels to evade or reduce taxes, causing the Liang Dynasty's tax revenues to worsen year by year.

The Daoist Emperor of the Liang Dynasty implemented the system of Provincial Governors. On one hand, this was indeed for his own convenience in practicing Daoism, but on the other hand, it also meant altering the taxation system by implementing a quota-apportionment tax system.

To put it bluntly and straightforwardly: You think I can't control you lot anymore, do you?

Since a whole bunch of you can't be managed, I'll just manage the fifteen provincial governors. I'll apportion and assign tax quotas to each province. I don't care how you manage things in your tenure; just bring me the tax revenues I require. Otherwise, get out and let the next one take over.

Even so, many truly great landowners still had ways to avoid taxes. To meet the court's tax quotas, they arbitrarily increased and apportioned those taxes onto the farmers who still retained some of their own land. This drove a massive number of these farmers—who were barely managing to pay taxes and stay fed—into bankruptcy, thereby creating even more roving refugees fleeing everywhere.

However, places like Liangzhou and Bingzhou were different; here, the exact opposite was true, featuring a vast territory and a sparse population.

These regions suffered year-round from invasions by alien tribes, resulting in severe casualties and deaths among the population. Coupled with the fact that these past few years had truly seen unfavorable weather and crop failures year after year, the Liang court paid no heed, demanding that the assigned tax quotas be collected regardless.

The common people living here in Liangzhou were thus oppressed from both sides, also nearly unable to pay taxes and thereby reduced to refugees. Of course, since this was a land of vast territory and sparse population, they could also clear and cultivate more land. Wouldn't that mean more grain next year?

Generally speaking, this was extremely difficult.

First, constrained by the era and tools, no one knew how many people would die trying to clear wasteland in such times. Attempting wasteland reclamation relying solely on an individual family unit was a path to death. Turning a piece of virgin land into arable, mature farmland might even take the effort of one or two generations.

Furthermore, the middle and late periods of the Liang Dynasty saw reforms in the tax system for farmland, and the current policies regarding newly reclaimed land stipulated that once private land was cleared and acknowledged as yours, you were obligated to bear taxes and corvée labor based on the newly added acreage.

The more wasteland you cleared, the more taxes you had to pay, pushing you even closer to bankruptcy.

And if you wanted to avoid paying taxes, the only option was to conceal your property in land. Yet turning it into hidden land created an even greater problem: once you nurtured the land into shape, someone else could come along tomorrow and arbitrarily seize it.

Because you hadn't registered it in the official records, if I claimed this piece of land was mine, you had no proof. The seizure of hidden land from small farmers was an endless occurrence in this era.

Generally speaking, Liangzhou had a sparse population, yet it could actually accommodate a huge number of people and utilize that population base to reclaim wasteland by absorbing a large number of disaster victims. The prerequisite, however, was that no taxes should be levied on them in the early stages; otherwise, they were doomed.

The reason Yun'er could say this now was also out of consideration for his father's status. Only his father's current position could give these people peace of mind to reclaim wasteland in Long County.

Above all, his father wanted to rebel day and night anyway, so he certainly wouldn't mind undermining the foundations of the Liang Dynasty a bit more. As for paying fewer taxes, they could just claim that Long County had suffered a natural disaster.

His father still held some reputation within scholarly circles, so presumably the Governor of Liangzhou would still give him some face. If not, weren't there Ma Yi's grain supplies and wealth?

No one knew a son better than a father. The moment Yun'er mentioned the matter of wasteland reclamation, Li Fu roughly understood Yun'er's intention.

In truth, the reason he said he wanted to discuss matters with Yun'er was precisely to ask how Yun'er planned to handle those refugees and this massive batch of grain.

Normally he could have made the decision on his own—dispersing the refugees and using all the grain for the great enterprise of rebellion. Yet Yun'er had ideas of his own, and coupled with the fact that Yun'er clearly possessed extraordinary fortune, Li Fu still wanted to consult such a kylin-like child.

Even though he was only a two-year-old toddler.

Li Fu was older, indeed, but he had long since admitted that while he harbored a surging ambition to rebel, he completely lacked the talent and genius for it. After all, even when learning to write characters, he had learned the rigid and proper regular script.

Hearing Yun'er suggest having the deserters reclaim wasteland, Li Fu grasped Yun'er's underlying meaning.

He didn't just want those deserters to reclaim wasteland; he also wanted the refugees in the valley to do the same. And this massive stockpile of grain from Ma Yi could happen to serve as early-stage support.

"Father, won't this work?"

Li Fu pondered for a moment. "Those deserters are fine; after all, there are only a hundred or so of them. The matter of the refugees requires further thought."

Yun'er knew his father wouldn't readily agree right away—that was such a huge batch of grain, after all. It was just like a family suddenly striking it rich, and the parents handing over the financial reins of that windfall to a two- or three-year-old child to manage.

Yun'er hadn't expected to convince his father with a single tentative remark either. He had only thought of how to use this grain after seeing the villagers in the lower valley eating their evening meal.

It was one thing for him to be "poor," but now that he had unexpected wealth, Yun'er wanted to help benefit the world at large—after all, these supplies hadn't originally belonged to him anyway.

Once he went back to gather more reasons and benefits for doing this, he could put together a long, elaborate essay and see if he could convince his father once more.

He had always been reluctant to get involved in the rat race, yet at merely two years of age, he was already forced to write a major thesis on people's livelihood. It truly wasn't easy.

Shaking his head, Yun'er had already begun to ponder.

However, the hour was truly late, and both Uncle Li and Li Fu feared that Yun'er would go hungry, so they first took him off to eat. After dinner, Uncle Li originally wanted Li Fu to bring Yun'er over so he could chat with the child a bit, only to find that Yun'er had already fallen asleep.

Having spent the day trailing behind Jiang Guang's coattails stirring porridge, smoked and scorched by the fire all day long until his hands felt sore from holding bowls, even the best spirits could only hold out so much.