Chapter Forty-Two: Ruthless Taxes and Levies—Death Without Mercy

Han Chong quickly found Ouyang Jingguan and Mingzhen, and led the two of them toward the Eight Immortals Tower. Along the way, the two saw the chaotic scene and were filled with both anger and alarm.

Ascending straight to the fifth floor, they found the many Demon-Slaying Captains already seated, yet none of them could muster a smile. The commotion from the street below was clear to all, and everyone watched in silence.

"Well, Captain Han, you’re back so soon. Come, have a seat!" Only Peach Blossom Eyes remained indifferent, greeting them with a smile.

"Captain Chen, seeing so many refugees resisting the tax in the streets, do you have any good ideas?" Han Chong suppressed his anger and addressed Peach Blossom Eyes, speaking word by word.

"Heh, in my view, isn’t this rather normal? The imperial court sustains so many officials to defend the nation—taxes must be collected to keep everything running. Otherwise, are we not supposed to eat?" Peach Blossom Eyes still looked unconcerned, chatting lightly as if nothing mattered.

"True, but I just stopped an old man. According to him, for every acre of land yielding fifty bushels of rice, eighty percent must be handed over. On top of that, there are the chicken tax, cattle slaughter tax, marriage tax, well-digging tax, and other oppressive levies. Isn’t this going to starve the people to death?"

"What? There are even such taxes? That’s the first I’ve heard—seems a bit excessive. But our Demon-Slaying Department is empowered only to catch demons, not handle administration, not even civil cases. There’s nothing I can do." Peach Blossom Eyes looked puzzled as well, but the court’s many departments each had their own responsibilities, and interference was strictly forbidden.

Otherwise, it would be overstepping, and anyone who did so would be impeached and severely punished.

"But our purpose in the Demon-Slaying Department is to protect the country and its people. If the common folk are starved or driven to rebellion, whom are we defending? Slaying as many demons as we like would be meaningless!"

"Well said, Brother Han! You hit the nail on the head—I support you!" Captain Wu and the others nodded in agreement. Each of them had suffered from demons since childhood and was fundamentally different from Peach Blossom Eyes, who had entered the department through the back door. They felt true sympathy for the poor and suffering commoners.

"What do you propose, then? March to the Prefect’s Office and interrogate the Prefect? I, for one, have no way to help," Peach Blossom Eyes shrugged, showing not the slightest intention of getting involved.

"Isn’t your father the Magistrate? I believe if you went to question the Prefect, he wouldn’t dare ignore you. It’s simply a matter of whether you’re willing or not!"

"You!" Peach Blossom Eyes finally showed a hint of anger. Though he had always benefited from his father the Magistrate’s influence, he actually had four brothers and was only the third in line.

In the Magistrate’s Residence, there had always been scheming and rivalry. He knew all too well what kind of man his father was. If his father learned he was meddling in court affairs without reason, he would surely be furious!

"Hmph! Either way, there’s nothing I can do. If you have the ability, go ask yourself—just don’t involve me!" Han Chong sighed inwardly; he hadn’t expected anything from this timid superior anyway.

Peach Blossom Eyes was a pampered scion, unmoved by the suffering of the people. Han Chong’s words were only a last, faint hope.

"Very well. Since Captain Chen refuses to intervene, I will have to investigate alone. Farewell."

"Wait, Brother Han, I’ll go with you!" Captain Wu called out.

"We’ll go too!" The other captains, except Peach Blossom Eyes and his cronies, stood up and followed Han Chong down the stairs, leaving Peach Blossom Eyes behind, his face flushed with anger, eyes wide, and forced to gulp down another mouthful of wine in frustration.

"Fine, go ahead! I’d like to see if you can actually do anything about this!" But no one bothered to answer him.

Han Chong and the others made their way with the crowd toward the Prefect’s Office.

There, they found the square before the office already packed with people—a seething mass, the scene reminiscent of an execution ground. The people were furious, their angry shouts rising in wave after wave.

A row of over a hundred bailiffs stood before the gates, steel blades in hand, holding back the masses. It seemed bloodshed was imminent.

Yet the Prefect, Lord Wang, had not appeared. Han Chong and his group of more than ten approached the gates from the side.

The chief constables exchanged anxious glances, uncertain what to do.

"Ah! If it isn’t the honored officers of the Demon-Slaying Department—what brings you to the Prefect’s Office for tea today?" The bearded Chief Constable Guan Zi’an, whom Han Chong had first met when he entered Peijun with Leng Yue, hurried over, bowing and forcing a smile.

"Tea? Chief Constable Guan, with the people rioting over taxes, do you think we could sit and drink tea? Is Lord Wang in?"

Han Chong’s face was expressionless as he returned the greeting.

Chief Constable Guan was taken aback—he hadn’t expected the somber black-clad officer to speak first, with the others offering no objection. How odd!

"Ha ha, so it’s Officer Han. You’ve come at a bad time. The Prefect is taking his noon nap and has ordered that no one be admitted. I have no choice in the matter, truly, so please don’t make things difficult for me!" The constable’s face was pleading, sweat beading on his forehead.

"A nap? Chief Constable Guan, look at the situation—am I making things difficult for you?"

"If this turns into a revolt, and punishment comes from above, you’ll be the first they seize. Then, it won’t just be difficult for you—you’ll be the greatest victim of all."

"Oh, Officer Han, please save me! I really know nothing!" Chief Constable Guan, hearing these words, was horrified, breaking out in cold sweat, almost ready to kneel in terror.

"If you want us to save you, then be honest—what’s really behind this sudden tax increase? Is Lord Wang truly napping?"

"This—this—these are all the Prefect’s orders. I know very little myself. Lord Wang isn’t actually asleep, but he’s given strict instructions: if the mob storms the gates, we are to kill without mercy!"

"Kill without mercy? I’d like to see who dares! Out of the way."

"Yes, yes! Please, honored officers, save us! We have families to support—we can’t bear this responsibility!"

"Understood. Lead the way—if we’re late, you’ll regret it!"

"Yes, yes!" Chief Constable Guan, wiping his brow, trotted ahead to lead Han Chong and his companions into the office, through several courtyards, until they reached the rear hall.

There, in the rear hall, the Prefect with wind-catching ears lounged on a couch, puffing away at a long pipe. Smoke curled through the room as two maids massaged his legs—a picture of leisure.

"Ahem!" Han Chong cleared his throat, but the sound cracked through the hall like thunder. The Prefect jolted upright, coughing, nearly choking, and hurried to sit up and look over.

"Ah! Officers Ning and Wu, what an honor to have you visit my humble abode! Please, be seated."

"No need, Prefect Wang. This is Han Chong, the newly appointed Brave Captain. Today, we saw refugees flooding toward your office and came to investigate."

Captain Ning narrowed his eyes, his voice stern.

"Oh! So that’s all it is. Just a few rioters refusing to pay tax—nothing to worry about. To trouble the three of you with this, I am truly sorry. Servants, bring tea—prepare our finest cold-scented brew!"

The Prefect finally set down his pipe, stood, donned his robe, and, though his expression was lazy, greeted them with forced civility.