Chapter 80: Pacifying Little South Sea

Cao Qi dared not resist in the slightest. Still, for a man who cared so much about saving face, he found some measure of comfort in the fact that the soldiers who approached him did not treat him roughly. On the contrary, they stood beside him with great politeness, though their expressions remained cold. At least he wasn't humiliated before his many colleagues and subordinates. Suddenly, it struck him that after all, he was a dignified sixth-rank captain. His confidence rekindled, though he did not dare to go too far. He snorted coldly at the soldiers flanking him, nostrils flaring, and then tossed a parting remark to those behind him: "Let's go! Back to camp! I want to see just what they think they can do to me!"

This left Old Five Hua in a panic. With Cao Qi gone, he was left alone to face those three hundred fully armed regular soldiers, and he, Old Five Hua, would be nothing more than a fish on the chopping block, awaiting slaughter!

Anxious though he was, when he saw the soldiers 'guarding' Cao Qi, each gripping their sabers and radiating murderous intent, Old Five Hua hadn't the courage to intervene. He could only watch helplessly as Cao Qi, under 'escort,' strode away, swallowing his bitterness back down.

Yang Hongwen appeared utterly composed on the surface, but inwardly he was troubled. The Haisen Pavilion before him, and the connected pleasure boats nearby, teemed with people—no fewer than eight hundred or a thousand. Yang Hongwen had no intention of taking all these people with him. The Eastern Camp's drill ground could accommodate them, but feeding so many mouths for even a day was no small matter.

Besides, Yang Hongwen was acting only at Zhang Mingzhi's behest. To make such a commotion in Fuxu Town under the banner of the Military Governor's office—he knew if the Inspector and the Superintendent of Maritime Trade learned of it, they would surely use it as an excuse to undermine Military Governor Li Tiao.

After pondering a moment, Yang Hongwen cast a sympathetic glance at Old Five Hua, who stood before him drenched in sweat, visibly at a loss. Taking a deep breath, he ordered in a stern voice, "Disperse all unrelated persons from the area. Any suspicious individuals, or anyone who dares resist, are to be taken to the Eastern Camp and handed over to General Li Xun for disposition!"

Li Xun, a confidant of Military Governor Li Tiao, held the fourth rank in the army and was the highest-ranking officer stationed at the Eastern Camp in Fuxu Town. It was said he had once commanded anti-rebellion campaigns in the western parts of Lingnan. After peace was restored, Li Tiao had ordered him to garrison Fuxu Town as the main military force representing the governor's office.

Yet Yang Hongwen's order left Old Five Hua bewildered. He watched as the soldiers surged across the gangplank, sabers sheathed but in hand, pushing past him and laying into his men—shouting curses as they drove them out. The feeling that welled up in Old Five Hua was indescribable: empty, despairing, but also sensing his fate was not yet sealed. After all, Yang Hongwen had not specified what punishment, if any, awaited him.

As the crowds were driven from the boats, Old Five Hua felt increasingly vulnerable in the night wind—so much so that what once seemed a stifling, humid breeze now made him shiver uncontrollably.

Those who had only ever followed Old Five Hua for a living dared not resist the regular soldiers swarming aboard. Even if a saber scabbard struck them on the head, or blood streamed from nose or mouth, they wore foolish, grateful smiles and scrambled away under their tormentors' contemptuous gaze, rushing to the gangplank and fleeing the scene as quickly as they could.

Of course, there were a few hotheads—some genuinely loyal to Old Five Hua—who, stung by an unprovoked blow, turned on the soldiers. Their fate, however, was too wretched to describe.

The men boarding the boats were all under the command of Fan Ying, brought from the Eastern Camp. When they met resistance, their comrades swiftly joined in, and without the slightest effort, they subdued the troublemakers, leaving messy boot prints on their bodies as warning.

In a way, these resisters were lucky. Had the men come from Yang Hongwen's own elite teeth-soldiers from the Military Governor's headquarters in Guangzhou, their fate would have been death—beheaded on the spot. The dignity of the governor's office was not to be challenged, and if these men had all dared to defy them, their heads would roll, branded as a riotous mob with treasonous intent. After all, the empire was rife with bandits and rebels.

With a few 'examples' made, any who had considered resisting, seeing their predecessors dragged out bleeding and flung into the waters of Little South Sea to sober up, quickly abandoned the idea. No one wished to follow that path. Driven by the instinct to survive, they covered their heads, endured the blows, and jostled toward the shore, stifling their cries for fear the dozens of grim cavalrymen on the bank might take notice—the glinting cold lances promised no pleasant fate.

To Old Five Hua, it seemed only a blink, and yet it was as if a whole night of torment had passed before the crowd was gone, leaving only those battered loyalists who refused to leave his side. Only then did he begin to register the sounds of beating and smashing, the groans of his men, and the soldiers cursing as they worked.

The soldiers remaining on the pleasure boats were growing hostile. Had it not been for Fan Ying and Yang Hongwen's restraint, they would have drawn their blades and killed every last stubborn fool before them. As they hesitated, Yang Hongwen, atop his horse at the riverbank, spoke with quiet authority, waving his riding crop at Fan Ying's men: "Enough. If they won't leave, let them stay!"

With the order given, the soldiers relented, though not without delivering a few final kicks to the men on the ground before disembarking—perhaps hoping to 'wake them up' to the idea that all this was for their own good.

"Captain Fan, back to camp." Yang Hongwen turned his horse and nodded at Fan Ying, his face expressionless. Only when glancing at the dozen or so 'stubborn resisters' now detained did a faint smile flicker across his face as he cupped his fist toward Fan Ying in a gesture of trust: "Captain Fan, I'll leave these men to you. I must return to Guangzhou tomorrow—you're in charge of all interrogations."

"No need for thanks, Brother Yang. It's what brothers do! Rest assured," Fan Ying, a true soldier at heart and an old acquaintance of Yang Hongwen, replied with a hearty laugh, reining his horse aside to let Yang lead the way.

As Yang Hongwen and his men prepared to depart, Old Five Hua, still in a daze aboard the pleasure boat, suddenly snapped to attention, seized by a terror greater than when Yang Hongwen had first arrived with troops—a nameless dread now enveloped him entirely.

"Don't go! Please, take me with you, take me back to camp—kill me or flay me as you wish!" Suddenly, Old Five Hua dashed ashore in a frenzy, chasing after Yang Hongwen and his men, his voice breaking with sobs.

Old Five Hua was no fool. He understood perfectly well what had just transpired: his followers were scattered, and he was left alone, a commander without an army. Yet Yang Hongwen refused to arrest him—was this not simply leaving him to die? As for who would want his life, Old Five Hua knew all too well, and so did Yang Hongwen and Fan Ying.

"Stop him!" Fan Ying reined in his horse and barked at his guards, "Don't kill him—if something happens, the Western Camp will blame us! Our camp is too small for a god like Master Hua!"

"Please, take me with you! Don't leave me here!" Old Five Hua pleaded, struggling, but the rearguard soldiers blocked him firmly. He even tried to provoke them into attacking him, but a flurry of saber scabbards soon left him sprawled on the ground, helpless. Watching Yang Hongwen and Fan Ying recede into the distance, despair overwhelmed his gaze.

Unbidden, two streams of hot tears rolled down his cheeks. One eye swollen shut, Old Five Hua felt no pain, only the icy tracks of tears on his face.

The once-grand Haisen Pavilion, its former bustle vanished in a single night. Though the pleasure boats retained their luxurious decorations and shone as brightly as ever, the place was now desolate beyond recognition.

Old Wolf, dazed atop the pleasure boat, gazed about blankly. Since he had followed Master Hua into Little South Sea, he had never imagined Haisen Pavilion would see such desolation, nor that everything could change so swiftly and so completely.

The battered men around him, still groaning softly, looked at their surroundings as if they were children abandoned by fate. The memories of prosperity were vivid; the scenes of Haisen Pavilion at its height swam before their eyes: beautiful young women with slender waists seeming to float before them, the racket and laughter in the gambling halls, the curses and banter among gamblers, the drunken rages—each scene now faded away with the departure of Yang Hongwen's army. Had they not still been standing on the largest, grandest pleasure boat in Little South Sea, they would have doubted such days ever existed.

Slowly, Old Five Hua struggled to his feet, his vacant gaze sweeping over the Haisen Pavilion he had built with his own hands. The former splendor was now endless desolation. His mood was not merely at rock bottom—he felt as if, deep in the valley of despair, he had been struck and buried by shattered stones tumbling from the cliffs above.