Volume 1, Chapter 45: Impatience

Manager Zhao, a trusted confidant of Wen Tiren, sat inside a brightly lit study with a stack of account books spread out before him. From time to time, he lifted his gaze toward the morning light outside the window, his expression fraught with anxiety.

"My lord," a man with the demeanor of a steward walked in. "That batch of cargo—"

"Shh!" Manager Zhao abruptly stood up. "Keep your voice down."

Lowering his voice, the steward said, "That cargo has already been transported to Azure Cloud Temple."

Manager Zhao nodded. "How has it been arranged?"

"Everything is prepared according to plan. Only..." The steward hesitated.

"Only what?"

"The men from the Eastern Depot have recently..." The steward trailed off, leaving his words unfinished.

Manager Zhao sneered. "What is there to fear? We have His Excellency backing us from above."

He walked over to the window and looked out at the courtyard under the morning light. "And those matchlocks?"

"They are all hidden in the cellar."

"Very well." Manager Zhao nodded with satisfaction. "Go and summon Manager Huang."

Just as the steward was about to turn around, he seemed to remember something. "By the way, my lord. Down at the docks—"

"What about them?" Manager Zhao frowned.

"I heard that Zheng Zhilong's ships have been prowling nearby."

Manager Zhao's expression shifted. "When did this happen?"

"Just today. Furthermore..." The steward swallowed hard. "They appear to be searching the merchant vessels."

Manager Zhao fell silent for a moment. "Go and burn all the ledger books."

"This..." The steward looked somewhat reluctant.

"Burn them!" Manager Zhao commanded harshly. "Not a single trace must be left behind!"

The steward hastily acknowledged the order, scooped up the ledgers from the desk, and prepared to leave.

"Wait," Manager Zhao added. "Tell our men below to be cautious these next few days."

The steward nodded and hurried out of the study.

Manager Zhao sat back down and drew a letter from his bosom. It was the one Wen Tiren had sent a few days prior.

Unfolding the paper, he read through it carefully in the morning light. Once he finished, his expression grew even gloomier.

"Someone come!" he suddenly shouted.

A domestic servant stepped inside. "My lord."

"Go and saddle the horse. If..." Manager Zhao paused. "If there is the slightest disturbance, notify me immediately."

The servant acknowledged the command and withdrew.

Manager Zhao paced back and forth in the study once more, occasionally glancing out the window.

The morning light grew increasingly brilliant, casting a golden hue upon the stone slabs of the courtyard.

"My lord," Manager Huang strode in quickly.

"Sit." Manager Zhao pointed to a chair.

Manager Huang seated himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "My lord summoned me..."

"What do the Later Jin barbarians say?" Manager Zhao cut him off.

"They..." Manager Huang glanced around. "They say the cargo is already prepared. They are merely waiting for—"

"Waiting for what?"

"Waiting for the signal from our end."

Manager Zhao nodded. "Tell them to wait a few more days."

"But my lord," Manager Huang said with a trace of urgency, "they claim they cannot wait any longer. If..."

"If what?"

"If we do not make a move soon, they will—"

"They will do what?" Manager Zhao sneered. "Could they possibly dare—"

Before he could finish, a flurry of hurried footsteps echoed from outside.

The steward rushed in in a panic. "My lord! This is terrible!"

"What are you panicking about?" Manager Zhao frowned. "What has happened?"

"Wen... Manager Wen has been arrested! And... and Manager Zhang as well..."

Manager Zhao slammed his hand down onto the table with a loud crack. "When did this happen?"

"Just tonight. They... they were at the docks—"

"The men from the Eastern Depot?" Manager Zhao demanded sharply.

The steward nodded. "And... and they also seized—"

"Seized what?"

"Ordnance and gunpowder." The steward's voice trembled. "That cargo..."

Manager Zhao's face turned ashen. "The ledgers!"

"They have already... already been burned," the steward babbled hurriedly.

"Saddle the horses!" Manager Zhao shouted. "Quickly!"

Manager Huang also stood up. "My lord, what about the Later Jin side..."

"Go and inform them," Manager Zhao said as he strode toward the exit. "Tell them the plan has changed. Tell them to—"

Before he could finish, another commotion erupted outside.

A servant came running up. "My lord! It is bad! The city gates—"

"What about the city gates?"

"The gates have all been sealed! And..." The servant gasped for breath. "There are Eastern Depot men everywhere!"

Manager Zhao's face turned livid. "Saddle the horse!"

"But my lord..." The steward started to say something.

"What is there to fear!" Manager Zhao roared. "Could they possibly take me captive?"

He hurried out of the study and into the back courtyard.

Under the morning light, a black steed had already been saddled.

Manager Zhao swung himself into the saddle and instructed the steward, "Dispose of everything cleanly."

"Understood," the steward nodded. "Then, as for you, my lord—"

"I am leaving first. You all—" Manager Zhao was about to speak further when he suddenly caught sight of flickering torchlight in the distance.

"Not good!" He violently yanked the reins. "Someone is coming!"

"Flee, my lord!" the steward shouted. "We—"

Before he could finish, the sound of battle cries reached them from afar.

Daring not to linger, Manager Zhao brought his whip down hard across the horse's flank.

The black steed let out a long neigh and galloped toward the back gate.

A chaotic chorus of shouts rose up from behind.

"Catch them!"

"Do not let him escape!"

Manager Zhao did not dare look back, spurring his mount with all his might.

In the darkness, the sound of hooves beat out a steady *da-da-da*.

He rode northward, calculating in his heart where he might escape to.

Azure Cloud Temple? No, it was likely surrounded by now.

The estate outside the city? Unwise as well; surely someone was watching it.

At that very moment, the sound of hoofbeats suddenly rang out ahead.

A jolt went through Manager Zhao's heart, and he hurriedly reined in his horse.

By the morning light, he saw a dense mass of men and horses blocking the road ahead.

"It is over..." he murmured.

When he turned to flee, hoofbeats echoed from behind him as well.

The glow of torches surrounded him on all sides.

Trapped in the middle, Manager Zhao could neither advance nor retreat.

He looked at the letter in his bosom, gritted his teeth, and drew a small paper packet from his boot.

"My lord!" someone shouted. "Do not do anything foolish!"

Manager Zhao sneered and shoved the paper packet into his mouth.

With a heavy thud, he tumbled from the saddle.

The torches gradually closed in, illuminating his contorted features.

The black steed neighed wildly, startled.

Several secret agents stepped forward to inspect Manager Zhao's corpse.

"Search!" commanded the leading agent.

Before long, they extracted a letter from the bosom of Manager Zhao's tunic.

"My lord," an agent reported, "we found it."

The leader took the letter, unfolded it for a glance, and sneered. "Just as expected..."

He stowed the letter away and turned to his subordinates. "Fall back and report!"

Several agents hoisted Manager Zhao's body and vanished into the morning light, leaving behind a black steed that snorted uneasily in the dawn.

Concurrently, raids were being conducted in every quarter of the city.

Inside Azure Cloud Temple, several monks trembled in terror.

"Do not be afraid," the leading agent sneered. "We are merely here to look for things."

Before long, they uncovered a massive stockpile of ordnance in the cellar.

The monks were bound and taken into custody, shaking uncontrollably.

"Take them away!" the agents barked.

Several commercial establishments in the southern part of the city were likewise sealed.

The merchants, with faces the color of clay, were escorted toward the Eastern Depot.

Down at the docks, Zheng Zhilong's naval forces were searching every single merchant vessel.

"My lord!" a sailor came running up. "We have found it!"

Zheng Zhilong stepped onto the deck, surveyed the military equipment crammed inside the hold, and let out a cold laugh.

"Seal the lot of them!" he commanded with a wave of his hand.

The sailors immediately sprang into action.

The sound of the night watch drum drifted from afar, signaling the fifth watch of the night.

Lights burned throughout the city.

Agents of the Eastern Depot moved back and forth, escorting prisoners.

Some of the arrested men wore the expressions of the living dead, while others gnashed their teeth in hatred.

The city gates remained tightly shut, the garrison standing at absolute readiness.

Along the city walls, torches formed an unbroken line of fire.

Sun Tingting stood atop the battlements, gazing at the distant morning light.

"My lord," a soldier ran over, "a band of men was discovered trying to scale the wall and escape."

"Were they captured?"

"They already—" Before the soldier could finish, a miserable scream echoed from the distance.

"Another one who swallowed poison," Sun Tingting sneered.

He turned to the men behind him. "Pass down the order to heighten security."

"Yes!"

The citywide searches continued until broad daylight.

The dungeons of the Eastern Depot were packed to bursting with prisoners.

Some wept, some cursed, and some prayed.

Wei Zhiyi walked past the prison cells, gazing down at the inmates.

"Take them out for interrogation," he commanded coldly.

The agents moved without delay.

In the span of a single night, the faction of Wen Tiren was nearly swept clean in one fell swoop.

Those merchants, gentry, and officials all fell into the massive dragnet.

Some tried to flee, some swallowed poison, and some confessed.

Yet many more remained in the shadows, watching and waiting.

The edge of the sky turned a pale, fish-belly white.

Zheng Zhilong stood at the bow of his ship, surveying the chaos along the docks.

"My lord," a sailor approached, "shall we continue the search?"

"Of course," Zheng Zhilong sneered. "Not a single ship may be spared."

The sailors pressed on with their work.

The sounds of human activity gradually rose within the city.

Commoners on the streets gossiped amongst themselves, all discussing the massive raids of the previous night.

Some claimed Wen Tiren was plotting a rebellion; others said it was the work of Later Jin saboteurs.

What the actual truth was, no one knew.

The Eastern Depot agents continued their searches, leaving not a single corner unchecked.

Among the captured, some had already confessed, while others stubbornly resisted to the bitter end.

The city gates remained firmly closed.

The garrison remained on high alert to prevent anyone from escaping.

Outside the walls, a few individuals attempting to flee were dragged back.

Some had committed suicide by poison; others were marched into the city under guard.

Inside the Eastern Depot prisons, the interrogations pressed on.

Some broke under torture and began to confess.

Their depositions revealed a multitude of secrets.

Wen Tiren's faction was entrenched throughout the court and the country, infiltrating every nook and cranny.

They had colluded with the Later Jin, preparing to strike from within and without.

Ordnance, gunpowder, secret correspondence—the evidence was ironclad.

Those implicated were netted one by one.

Some readily admitted their guilt, while others denied it unto death.

Yet the outcome for all was identical.

The searches within the city persisted.

The Eastern Depot agents searched house by house, missing no corner whatsoever.

Inside Azure Cloud Temple, the monks knelt on the ground, trembling.

The ordnance in the cellar had been completely hauled away.

Of those monks, some had confessed while others persisted in their stubborn denials.

At the break of dawn, the Later Jin encampment was a scene of frantic activity. The grand army was packing its baggage, preparing to retreat northward.

The commanding general sat inside his tent with a pile of confidential letters arrayed before him. He lifted his gaze toward the east from time to time, his expression grim.

"My lord," a personal guard entered. "The camp has been mostly packed up."

The general nodded. "Tell everyone to pick up the pace. We must leave this place before full daylight."

He stood up and walked outside the tent. The morning light was faint, and all across the encampment, soldiers were scrambling to pack their gear.

"This time..." he muttered to himself, "we were far too impatient."