The Great Song Dynasty: You were put in charge of teaching, and you produced a whole bunch of prime

The small courtyard where Jiang Lin stayed reeked of a terrible stench.

The young masters who used to roam the streets of Bianjing, now looked like drowned rats, squatting beside the bucket of mud, their fingers filled with dark brown grime.

This almost perverse selection method spread throughout the entire city of Bianjing in less than an hour.

In the teahouse opposite Xiangguo Temple, many officials and gentry were looking this way with binoculars, each one of them jumping up and down in anger.

"Absurd! Utterly absurd!"

"Jiang Lin isn't running a school; he's blatantly humiliating the very foundation of our Great Song Dynasty!"

An official slammed his hand on the table, splashing tea all over the floor.

But behind him, his butler, carrying two heavy chests of silver, hesitated whether to continue queuing.

There's no other way.

Wu Chong and Cai Jing's assets are still being sealed and confiscated, and everyone related to these two is frantically looking for a powerful patron.

Now everyone in the capital knows that Princess Jianing is Jiang Lin's student, and the Emperor treats her with great respect.

Once you enter Jingshi Academy, even if you're just shoveling manure, it's like having a get-out-of-jail-free card.

Jiang Lin sat on the veranda, playing with a thin bamboo stick in his hand. If anyone was lazy or picked the wrong grass seeds, he would just hit them with the stick.

"Headmaster, can these old folks really endure this hardship?"

Holding a golden abacus, Qian Duoduo carefully bypassed the piles of foul-smelling mud and sidled up to Jiang Lin.

"If you can endure it, you should learn it; if you can't, you should learn it even more."

Jiang Lin glanced at the sun and guessed that it was about time.

"People like them are born and raised in the clouds, and have never looked down at the soil below."

"Unless they tear this brocade robe to shreds, they will never know what the foundation of the Great Song Dynasty is made of."

As they were talking, a well-dressed middle-aged man, surrounded by several guards, ignored the obstruction and barged into the courtyard.

It was Su Song, the Vice Minister of State Affairs at the time.

He glanced at the horrific scene in the courtyard, and his lips twitched slightly.

"Master Jiang, this is the first time I've ever seen such a teaching method."

Su Song's voice was steady and calm, exuding the composure of a seasoned scholar.

Jiang Lin didn't get up, but simply pointed to the empty seat next to him.

"Lord Su, what a rare guest! What brings you here? Do you have some clueless juniors who want to come and have a sniff?"

Su Song ignored Jiang Lin's rudeness and sat down, his gaze falling on Han Zhen, the young man who was engrossed in his work.

"That's a nephew of Minister Han. You're making him do this kind of work? Aren't you afraid that stubborn old man Han Qi will lead his troops to demolish your yard?"

Jiang Lin chuckled.

"If he's willing to demolish it, I happen to have Shen Kuo's newly devised demolition plan, so I can test its strength while I'm at it."

Su Song shook his head helplessly, then his expression turned serious.

"Tens of thousands of disaster victims have gathered ten miles outside Bianjing city."

"The Zhao Liben case has far-reaching implications. More than half of the officials in the Ministry of Revenue and the Ministry of Personnel are missing, and disaster relief efforts are basically at a standstill."

"The official's intention is to let you, the headmaster who 'does things differently,' lead a group and give it a try."

Jiang Lin's hand, which was striking the bamboo stick, paused.

He looked at Su Song, his eyes sharpening.

"Old fox. Are you trying to draw fire to me?"

"There's more to the story of those disaster victims than just food shortages, isn't there?"

Su Song sighed.

"Who can argue with that? Many of the remaining forces of the officials who have been investigated are infiltrating among the disaster victims, stirring up trouble."

"The imperial court now has to go through complicated procedures to mobilize troops, and it is afraid of provoking a popular uprising, so it is hesitant to act rashly."

"Jiang Lin, didn't you want to teach them how to be decent human beings? Are you going to take this ready-made 'teaching material'?"

Jiang Lin suddenly laughed, with the excitement of seeing prey.

"Answer it. Why don't you answer?"

He suddenly stood up, his voice echoing throughout the courtyard.

"Stop digging!"

Dozens of young men, their hands covered in black mud, looked up blankly, like a group of groundhogs that had just crawled out of the ground.

"You have half an hour to wash yourselves clean and change into linen clothes."

Jiang Lin pointed to the outside of the gate.

"There are tens of thousands of mouths waiting to be fed outside the city. If you mess this up, you'll not only be kicked out, but you'll also have to sleep in this bucket of mud for a month."

Han Zhen was the first to jump up, his eyes showing not fear, but rather a burning intensity.

In the oppressive atmosphere of Bianjing these days, Jiang Lin's simple and brutal approach has struck a chord with the youthful passion.

"Headmaster, shall we go too?"

Zhao Lingjun came out of the house, looking somewhat worried.

She knew the chaos in the disaster camps, where not only was there disease, but also desperate rioters.

"Go, why don't you go?"

Jiang Lin looked at her, his eyes softening for a moment before being replaced by reason.

"You are a princess of the Song Dynasty. You can't just look at the hypocrisy in the court. You have to see the despair at the bottom."

"Only after witnessing despair will your hands not tremble when you sit next to someone offering advice."

Half an hour later, a strange group of people set off.

A dozen or so privileged young men, dressed in coarse cloth and with grime still etched on their fingernails, pushed heavy grain carts at the head of the procession.

Shen Kuo carried a basket of strange medicine bottles and powders on his back, while Qian Duoduo directed several capable servants to protect the flanks.

Niu Aihua carried her iconic horse-slaying sword and walked behind Jiang Lin like a ferocious beast ready to devour anyone at any moment.

The people of Bianjing were dumbfounded.

When did these young masters, who are usually dressed in fine clothes and riding horses, start pushing carts for refugees?

"Jiang Lin's move was too ruthless."

On the city tower, Ouyang Xiu leaned on the railing, watching the departing procession.

"He is using the lives of these 10,000 disaster victims to sharpen the blades of these fledglings."

"If we win, the future backbone of the Song Dynasty will have been forged into its initial form."

"If we lose..."

Ouyang Xiu didn't continue, because he saw Jiang Lin turn around and glance at the city defenses of Bianjing as he left the city.

That look in his eyes was full of mockery.

Ten miles outside the city, cries of anguish filled the air.

Amidst the withered yellow weeds, starving people with deathly pale faces were everywhere.

The air was filled with the smell of decay, death, and anger.

The moment the grain carts appeared, countless pairs of eerie green eyes looked over, filled with the desire of wild beasts.

"Don't move!"

Han Zhen shouted loudly, trying to maintain order.

But the starving people had already begun to stir, with someone screaming from behind: "The food is right there! Grab it!"

Jiang Lin sat on horseback and slowly took out a tin megaphone.

"If you want to grab it, take one step forward."

His tone was chillingly calm.

"You're probably very good at making an example of someone to scare others."