Entrepreneurship in the Late Tang Dynasty

Chapter 232 Deception
In the confined cell, a group of old thieves from the bandit army lay silently on straw. If it weren't for the occasional rise and fall of their bellies, they would have been mistaken for a group of dead men.

That's pretty much it. After the bastards' Zhongwu Army captured these people, they only gave them a meal at the beginning, and then it was as if they forgot about them. No one ever brought them food again.

Many of these bandits were heroes from the Yan and Yun areas. This region has been known for its outlaws since ancient times, especially in southwestern Shandong, where the city and the countryside are like two different societies with two sets of rules.

The city was the society of officials and their soldiers, while the area outside the city was the society of outlaws who roamed the countryside and gathered in the mountains and marshes.

The reason for this is still due to the issue of salt.

Selling salt was of course illegal, and because it affected the imperial tax base, the crime was particularly serious.

Once caught by the imperial salt and iron authorities, selling more than one shi (a unit of dry measure) of smuggled salt was a capital offense. At that time, possessing weapons was also a capital offense. Buying more than two shi was also a capital offense. Salt producers who stole and sold more than two shi were also guilty of a capital offense.

One stone of salt could feed an ordinary person for fifty years, but most people don't live to be fifty. In other words, one stone of salt is a amount of salt that a person could not finish eating in a lifetime.

How much could so much salt sell for? Even at the highest price, when salt cost 370 wen per dou, one shi would cost 3,700 wen, or about 4 guan.

In other words, if you were caught selling salt worth four strings of cash, you would be dead.

At that time, a soldier in the Taiping Army could earn nearly 30 strings of cash a year, enough to buy the lives of eight salt merchants.

Despite the intense policy environment, able-bodied men and heroes from the Yan and Yun regions still flocked to the area.

This is no longer something that can be done simply for money.

Because it's very simple. If it's purely for money, you can become a military officer, live off the local warlords, have a guaranteed income regardless of drought or flood, and even bully the villagers, act like a tyrant, and become a superior person.

The reason is simply that salt is such a special commodity.

Salt is a necessity that everyone needs and uses every day. Although selling necessities is a crime, it aligns with the simple moral values ​​of rural people.

You could even sell them cheap contraband salt, and they'd be incredibly grateful. And that's exactly what those unproductive heroes love to do.

On the one hand, the profits from selling smuggled salt were high, and on the other hand, it also earned them a good reputation in the countryside.

When a big salt merchant emerges in a certain village, it benefits the entire village. Who wouldn't praise him?

For city dwellers, success meant entering Chang'an and becoming a military officer. For villagers, success meant becoming a salt merchant or a local hero, leading their fellow villagers to wealth and prosperity.

Even heroes have their pride, and selling smuggled salt—a way to gain both prestige and financial benefits—naturally became their first choice.

Moreover, selling smuggled salt has one advantage: it can support a workforce.

Whether it's scouting locations, transportation, or bribing superiors and subordinates, people are needed. A single salt-trading route can support hundreds of people.

If bandits want to act arrogantly, they need to have subordinates. But if they have subordinates, they need to be fed. If you keep robbing the villagers of their food, it will be difficult for you to survive in the local area.

Smuggling salt now not only makes money and supports people, but also gives back to the community, ultimately creating a positive cycle.

The younger generation in the village envied the carefree life of the salt smugglers and would keep going to join them. As more and more villagers joined them, the local people would spontaneously protect these salt smugglers.

So the local villagers and the illegal salt dealers who had settled there quickly formed a symbiotic relationship.

In most cases, salt smugglers are attached to their hometowns, partly because they are familiar with the local conditions, and partly because it is convenient for them to take care of their families.

Because they were locals, these salt smugglers didn't cause much trouble for the surrounding villagers. Their usual strongholds were abandoned, dilapidated houses in the countryside.

At first, when illegal salt gangs appeared in the area, the locals were a little scared and dared not get involved with them. But as time went on, they gradually enjoyed the benefits of illegal salt and bought the stolen goods from these salt smugglers at low prices. Later, they even went so far as to sell the stolen goods for these salt smugglers and become their middlemen.

Once they gain long-term benefits from this, the local villagers will spontaneously act as the eyes and ears of the salt merchants.

If this situation persists long enough, the line between civilians and bandits will become very blurred.

Some honest farmers would also join smuggling salt gangs as mules when they weren't busy, carrying smuggled salt a few times to improve their family's life.

It is precisely this symbiotic relationship that makes the local villagers instinctively gather around these privately owned salts during years of famine.

Wang Xianzhi from Puzhou was in the same situation.

Puyang was one of the first places to be hit by floods, and many of the victims sought refuge with Wang Xianzhi.

Could these local salt merchants, who make their living off the locals, just stand by and watch their fellow villagers starve to death? Of course not, because they are the sons and relatives of these people.

Therefore, Wang Xianzhi's rebellion was forced upon him by the circumstances.

He began raising his banner in the winter of the first year of the Qianfu era, and during that time he wandered around the countryside of Puzhou for several months, but he did not dare to make up his mind to attack the county town, and he did not dare to rebel.

It wasn't until the second year of the Qianfu era, when the disaster became even more severe and there was no food left in the countryside, that they finally made up their minds to take action.

Now, the core members of this band of outlaws, captured by the Zhongwu Army and imprisoned, are just such a group of people, and most of them genuinely have the intention to plead for their fellow villagers.

So after being captured by the corrupt court officials, these men were determined to die rather than surrender. The Zhongwu Army tried to persuade them to surrender, but these heroes retorted.

Then the Chungmuk Army ignored them and left them there to die.

But after these people had actually gone hungry for several days, their thoughts changed a little.

Just then, the cell door opened.

……

Outside the Caozhou Temple, He Weidao, the commander of the Black-Clad Society, walked into the courtyard with his hands behind his back. The courtyard was already filled with spies from the Black-Clad Society.

One of the burly men clasped his fists and bowed to He Weidao. This man was none other than Guo Shaobin, who had killed someone in the Yuncheng gate tower and left a blood-written message.

After picking up his family in Yunzhou, he returned to Yuanju before the Cao army besieged the city. It was he who brought the intelligence that Yunzhou had been captured by the Cao army.

Later, when He Weidao needed people, he specially transferred his military clerk to the shogunate and directly assigned him to the Black-Clad Society.

Upon entering the courtyard, He Weidao first glanced at the plaque above the abbot's residence, which read:

"Those who enter this gate are either guilty or imprisoned; only by following the law and abiding by one's duty can one gain freedom."

With a slight smirk, He Weidao asked Guo Shaobin, who was standing respectfully:

"Are all the selected people inside?"

Guo Shaobin nodded and replied:

"The core members of the bandit army that we obtained from the Zhongwu Army, as well as those we captured ourselves, are all here. They are mostly at the level of junior commanders or above."

He Weidao nodded and then walked into the dark cell, followed closely by a dozen or so capable Black-Clad Society spies.

Just as the door opened, a dozen or so core heroes of the bandit army raised their hands, shielding themselves from the light shining in from outside, before they could see who had entered.

Backlit, He Weidao scanned the group of people, and his first words were:
"Who among you can write?"

But no one paid any attention to him.

He Weidao nodded, then randomly pointed to someone, nodded to Guo Shaobin, and then Guo Shaobin stepped forward, grabbed the person by the neck, dragged him outside like a chick, and chopped him up with a knife in front of the group of bandits.

The heroes present watched their companion's head roll away, their faces still filled with doubt, and they all narrowed their eyes.

The man who was killed was also a powerful figure. He used to travel with a large entourage and was a leader in the surrounding villages. Later, he joined a bandit army and had about a thousand men under his command, making him a local hero.

But he was chopped up right in front of them.

The atmosphere at the scene became even more oppressive, as these military officers couldn't understand what the person in front of them meant.

And then you come to humiliate them?
At that moment, a young man angrily questioned:
"The victor is king, the loser is villain, there's nothing to say. Kill or torture me, just do it quickly, see if you even utter a sound!"

He Weidao was a bit extreme in nature. In terms of methods, Zhao Juntian, who betrayed Zhao Huai'an in the wronged state, was undoubtedly more ruthless, but his mind was not as good at killing as He Weidao.

Perhaps it was his true nature, or perhaps he had experienced a period of hardship and destitution, but in any case, he had a tendency to use any means necessary to achieve his goals.

At that moment, seeing the young man speak with such magnanimity, he clapped his hands three times, gave him a thumbs-up, and then said to the scout beside him:
"Hmm, drag him out and chop him up, let's see if he cries out then."

The young man was stunned for a moment, and then he was dragged out by two spies from the Black Clothes Society. One of them held his shoulder down, while the other raised his knife and slashed down.

With a single stroke, the head was neatly severed, rolled to one side, and then the corpse fell sideways with a thud.

Because the area of ​​blood spurting was large, a mouthful of blood was sprayed onto the courtyard of the temple, turning the yellow soil a deep crimson.

Only then did He Weidao exclaim in admiration:
"What a hero! Sure enough, he didn't even utter a sound after the first strike."

Everyone stared in horror at the scene before them, their previous fearless courage gone.

One of them, a relatively calm and seemingly intelligent young man, suppressed his anger and fear and asked:
"What do you want, young man? You should at least tell us what you want to do so we can cooperate. There's no need to start by killing someone. We can talk."

He Weidao smiled and said to Guo Shaobin beside him, "Old Guo, this guy is quite smart!"

Guo Shaobin grinned, showing his teeth, and smiled too.

Then He Weidao's face turned cold, and he turned to Xiao Shuai, who had just spoken, and said:

"But unfortunately, I don't need smart people."

As soon as he finished speaking, Guo Shaobin stepped forward. This time, he didn't delay any longer, grabbed the man, and slit his throat with a knife.

The young man clutched his throat, then struggled to grab the clothes of his companions, only to be pushed away.

He Weidao watched as the young man fell, and the others around him shrunk to the side as if they wanted to avoid him, their lips curling into a contemptuous smile.

Only then did He Weidao say to everyone with distress:

"I'm just asking who among you can write. Is that so hard to understand? Are you all trying to act tough in front of me? Don't I know who you are?"

"They're all bullies who prey on men and women. They're just pretending to be heroes in the village. What travelers or caravans would die if they encountered them? What have they done wrong? They're guilty of countless evils. Which one of them isn't a capital offense? Oh, now they've rebelled and started speaking up for the poor, advocating for equal distribution of wealth, and they think they're doing justice on behalf of Heaven."

"Ha, what are you pretending for! Is it so hard to have a proper conversation?"

As He Weidao angrily cursed these fraudsters, someone tremblingly said:

“My lord…my lord, the one you just killed was the one who could write.”

He Weidao paused for a moment, looking at the intelligent man lying in a pool of blood like a fish out of water, forced a smile, and sighed:

"If you can read, then say so!"

Then I tried to justify myself:
"But it's alright. It just means this person is unlucky, and people with bad luck aren't suited for this kind of work."

Then he looked at the handsome young man who had just spoken, and after examining him, he saw that the man looked ordinary, even a bit sleazy, especially the two tufts of hair that were hanging down, trembling in the air, one on the left and one on the right, looking just like some kind of insect.

Then, smiling, he asked the man:

"Oh, is there anyone who can write?"

The remaining soldiers looked at each other, and without exception, they all shook their heads in perfect agreement.

He Weidao was now at a loss. These people were considered high-ranking talents in the army, yet only one of them could write.
Unable to resist, He Weidao slapped his forehead, looked at the mess in front of him, and suddenly had a flash of inspiration:
"Oh? So, who among you can read?"

Then the military commander who had just spoken pointed tremblingly at himself and said with a forced smile:

"We can read a few words."

Now He Weidao was very satisfied with the person in front of him, and asked with a smile:

"What is your name?"

The man quickly replied:

"Those in the underworld all call me Flying Kick Zhao Qi because I'm fast on my feet, and also because I..."

Upon hearing this, He Weidao coughed, interrupting him:

"Stop, stop, stop. Your nickname is good, but don't use it anymore. From now on, you'll be called 'Deceitful Worm,' understand?"

Zhao Qi didn't understand why he was forbidden from using his bandit nickname, but since he was under someone else's roof and had encountered someone with unpredictable tempers, he could only force a smile and agree.

Meanwhile, He Weidao inwardly grumbled:
"What the hell do you think you are? You dare to have the surname Zhao? You dare to be the seventh in your family? Giving you this name will surely bring you great fortune in the future!"

So He Weidao said to Guo Shaobin, who was standing next to him:
"Go get some paper and a pen."

Guo Shaobin did not move, but instead sent his scouts out to retrieve the item, and then remained at the scene.

After the scout brought paper and pen, He Weidao quickly wrote a short passage, then handed it to the "deceitful worm" and asked:

"You know them all, right?"

This cunning worm had only been to school for a few years and couldn't recognize more than a hundred characters, but seeing the straightforward letter of loyalty on the paper, he still understood what was going to happen.

Guo Shaobin handed the pen to Mantianchong, who smiled with difficulty:
"My lord, I don't know how to write!"

Guo Shaobin frowned. "He can't even write his own name. Isn't he useless?"

He Weidao, knowing the situation, directly said to Guo Shaobin:

"Get some blood and make him put his fingerprint on it."

Guo Shaobin nodded, then used a knife to cut the thumb of the worm and pressed it onto the paper.

He Weidao was stunned for a moment when he saw the Sky-Deceiving Worm screaming and howling over there.

No, can't you use the pool of blood next to you? You're just going to use a fresh one right away? Do you have to be so particular?

However, he didn't say anything. As long as the result was achieved, he didn't care about the process.

After the handprint was pressed, He Weidao read through the "Deceitful Insect's" letter of allegiance, then put it away. He then signaled to the scout to hand over a knife, which he then threw in front of the "Deceitful Insect."

The "Deceitful Insect" was terrified, not knowing what was going on. He had just pledged allegiance and now he was being forced to commit suicide!

Then He Weidao snorted:
"Pick up all the knives and kill everyone else. You don't want others to know that you've done something wrong, do you?"

The "deceiving bug" hadn't quite caught on yet and was about to explain that there were people he knew among them, and that he could pull them in to work together.

Then He Weidao grew impatient and addressed all the young generals present:
"Whoever kills this 'Deceiving Worm' will live and can work for us."

Upon hearing this, the other young men looked at the knife on the ground, then at the Sky-Deceiving Worm, and immediately pounced on it.

In this situation, either they die or the "deceiving bug" dies.

But the "Deceitful Worm" pounced even faster, snatched the horizontal knife first, and stabbed it into the chest of the young man. Then it went completely berserk, killing the remaining eight or nine young men one by one.

In the confined cell, the stench of blood, excrement, and urine filled the air. He Weidao covered his nose with a handkerchief and looked at the "Deceitful Insect" lying dumbfounded in the blood and grime, saying:
“‘The Deceitful Insect’—not everyone has the opportunity to become one of my people, nor can just anyone board our Righteous Army’s ship. You may resent, hate, and fear now, but believe me, in the future, you will be grateful to me, and may even wish to build a shrine for me. Why? Because I have changed your family’s fate, allowing your descendants to enjoy a life of wealth and privilege that they should not have.”

The swindler was stunned by these words, not understanding why the person was saying such a thing.

He Weidao knew that this cunning little brain couldn't understand yet, but that didn't matter, as long as it could get the job done.

Then he said to the Sky-Deceiving Insect:

"You'll escape from here, then head towards Yuncheng, and finally return to the Cao Army. After that, you don't need to worry about anything else. Just remember, when someone holds a piece of hemp cloth and asks you what local products Caozhou has, you should reply, 'Caozhou doesn't have much of a good produce, except for peaches, which are pretty good.' If that person agrees and says they'll get you three catties to try, then that person is one of my men."

Seeing that the Deceitful Insect seemed a little distracted, He Wei said:

“I’m not afraid of you running off to other places, because if you do, there will be other people. You’ll just be the one who loses your great fortune. You need to know that the fact that you were able to replace that person who could write is already a blessing from your ancestors. If you lose it, your ancestors for eighteen generations will be so angry that they’ll come back to life and strangle you.”

"So remember this, this isn't about me asking you to do anything, this is your opportunity. So memorize it well, don't let this opportunity slip away and regret it for the rest of your life."

After saying that, he left with his men, and before leaving, he instructed them to prepare a private room for the Sky-Deceiving Insect.

As soon as everyone left, the Sky-Deceiving Insect began to grumble and curse:

"You dog, you dog of the imperial court, you lackey! You want me to do things, but you don't even offer any compensation. And what's more, I don't even know your name! Just one sentence: 'Work for the Righteous Army'? And you expect me, Flying Kick Zhao Qi, to risk my life? I…'"

Then, the swindler couldn't continue cursing, sighed, and suddenly muttered:
"There's nothing particularly good about Caozhou, except for the peaches, which are quite nice."

"Uh, was it a peach or a plum? I've kind of forgotten!"

"There's nothing particularly good about Caozhou, except for the plums, which are quite nice."

……

"There's nothing good about Caozhou, except the peaches are pretty good."

And so, a blood-soaked worm sat on the bloodstains, chanting over and over again.

He remained there until someone called him, telling him he could go to another cell to rest.

Then the cloak quickly got up, smiled obsequiously at his own people, and moved to another place.

He didn't know that the Black Clothes Society had found eight people like him, all of whom were used to infiltrate the bandit army.

(End of this chapter)