I asked you to go hunting, and you ended up wearing a yellow robe?

Qi Shan stood up and walked to Sun Maocai.

"Magistrate Sun, you have defected to Li Long. Li Long led two hundred border troops to attack the city, and many soldiers died."

"While you were hiding in the mountains for the past five days, I led the constables to force the gentry to donate 8,000 shi of grain, saving the lives of 3,000 refugees outside the city."

Sun Maocai's lips trembled, and he couldn't speak.

Qi Shan patted him on the shoulder.

"Magistrate Sun, if you think you still deserve this position, then go ahead and sue me in the provincial capital."

After he finished speaking, he turned around and walked out.

Sun Maocai stood in the back room, his body still covered in mud, looking as disheveled as a stray dog.

He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his flesh.

"Qi Shan... you're just a constable, what right do you have to take my place!"

Zhao Bingkun stood up and paused as he passed by him.

"Magistrate Sun, go back and change your clothes first. We can talk about it tomorrow."

Sun Maocai lowered his head, his teeth grinding together.

As soon as they stepped out of the county government gate, Meng Da came to greet them.

"Officer, has that fellow surnamed Sun returned?"

Qi Shan mounted his horse.

"He's back. Keep an eye on him and see who he contacts these next few days."

Meng Da grinned.

"Got it! If this old bastard doesn't behave, I'll make him get lost again."

Qi Shan pulled on the reins and glanced back at the county government gate.

Sun Maocai changed into clean clothes and sat in his own courtyard.

Three cups of tea had gone cold, but he hadn't drunk a drop.

He worked his way up to the position of county magistrate after eight years of hard work.

What is that Qi Shan anyway?

A lowly hunter, who has only been a constable for a few days, dares to take his chair?

"Master!" The old butler stumbled in, his face pale. "Something terrible has happened! The entire Wang Zhengwen family was murdered last night!"

Sun Maocai suddenly stood up, smashing the teacup in his hand on the ground.

"Who did it?"

"Black Dragon Stronghold! The Black Dragon Token is nailed to the gate!"

Sun Maocai plopped back down, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

He and Wang Zhengwen have known each other for many years. Although they are not close, they greeted each other at the yamen gate yesterday.

Today, everyone is gone; the entire family is gone.

"And Zhang Xiu and his son..." the old butler's voice trembled, "their heads are hanging on the door frame, also from the Black Dragon Token."

Sun Maocai's fingers began to tremble.

This is not right.

The Wang and Zhang families had no enmity with Black Dragon Village, so why did they all die at this time?

He suddenly remembered the look in Qi Shan's eyes when he forced the gentry to donate grain in the county government hall yesterday.

That look in their eyes, like they're staring at a dead person.

"Prepare the sedan chair... no! Prepare the horses!"

Sun Maocai stood up abruptly, his legs trembling.

No, he can't stay in Qingyang County anymore.

This place has changed drastically.

County Magistrate Zhao Bingkun stared at the smoke rising from the refugee camp for a long while before turning to look at Chen Chong.

"Is Qi Shan still at the blacksmith shop?"

"I'm out, just got back to the county office." Chen Chong paused. "Sun Maocai is requesting an audience and has been waiting in the back hall for half an hour."

Zhao Bingkun frowned and remained silent for a moment before speaking.

"Let's go take a look."

In the back room, Sun Maocai was restless.

He saw Zhao Bingkun come in and knelt down with a thud.

"Your Excellency! I am old and frail, and request to retire and return to my hometown!"

Zhao Bingkun glanced at him, sat down in the main seat, and picked up his teacup.

"Magistrate Sun is in his prime; why be so modest?"

"This humble official..." Sun Maocai gritted his teeth, "I've been lost in the mountains for the past few days and caught a cold. I'm simply too weak to handle county affairs anymore!"

Zhao Bingkun didn't speak, and slowly blew on the tea leaves.

Sun Maocai knelt on the ground, his back soaked with cold sweat.

He didn't know if he could leave Qingyang County alive, but at least by resigning from his official post, he could at least save his life.

"Since Magistrate Sun has made up his mind, I will not force him to stay." Zhao Bingkun put down his teacup. "But according to the rules, we need to wait for the provincial capital's approval. You should go back now."

Sun Maocai felt as if he had been granted a pardon and kowtowed three times.

"Thank you, Magistrate! Thank you, Magistrate!"

He got up and staggered backward out of the back room.

Chen Chong watched his retreating figure and asked Zhao Bingkun in a low voice.

"Your Excellency, are you really going to let him go?"

"Before the provincial capital approves the document, he was still an official appointed by the imperial court," Zhao Bingkun said calmly. "This matter is not urgent."

Chen Chong understood the implied meaning in the words.

No rush, that just means it still needs to be done.

Outside the city, in a camp for migrants, Meng Da sat on a stack of grain, chewing on a blade of grass.

Wang Tiezhu squatted down to the side, sharpening his knife; the blade gleamed coldly in the sunlight.

"Boss Meng, this is the third batch of people getting porridge today, and the number matches up."

Meng Da spat out the grass stems and jumped off the grain stack.

"Keep a close eye on them, don't let anyone cut in line."

Before he finished speaking, a commotion broke out in the ranks.

A burly man pushed aside the old woman in line ahead of him and strode to the porridge bucket.

He was followed by seven or eight burly men, each with a short knife at his waist.

"Get the fuck out of my way!"

The burly man snatched the iron ladle from the woman distributing porridge and scooped three bowls into his mouth, scalding himself and wincing in pain.

"Brothers! Help yourselves!" he waved his hand. "Eat your fill!"

Seven or eight burly men rushed forward and surrounded the porridge bucket completely.

An elderly woman in line was pushed to the ground, her mouth covered in mud.

The crowd in line began to stir, and some people tried to argue, but were slapped back by the burly man.

"I have a knife! Let's see who dares to touch me!"

Meng Da stood up and placed his hand on the hilt of his knife.

"We're Officer Qi's men, are you sure you want to cause trouble?"

The burly man turned around, glanced at him, grinned, and revealed a mouthful of yellow teeth.

"Captain Qi? I've never even heard of him!"

"You soldiers can't control me!"

He picked up the bowl of porridge and smashed it on the ground, shards of porcelain scattering everywhere.

"I'm definitely drinking this porridge today!"

Wang Tiezhu leaned closer to Meng Da and asked in a low voice.

"Boss Meng, are we going to make a move or not?"

Meng Da didn't reply, but glanced at the city gate.

Qi Shan was walking out of the city gate, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his steps neither fast nor slow.

"Officer Qi is here," Meng Da said, and then stopped moving.

Qi Shan walked to the porridge stall, glanced at the burly men, and looked indifferently.

The burly man looked him up and down and sneered.

"So your surname is Qi?"

"Let me tell you! We're refugees! You won't even let us have porridge?!"

"I'm definitely having this porridge today!"

"Not just today! Tomorrow! The day after tomorrow! We'll come every day!"

"And another thing! I heard you have three wives? Give one of them out..."

He hadn't finished speaking.

A flash of cold light streaked past.

The burly man's head slid off his neck, rolled twice on the ground, and came to rest beside the porridge bucket. His mouth was still open, and his eyes were wide open.

The headless corpse stood for a moment, blood spurting from its neck splashing three feet high, before collapsing to the ground with a thud.

The air in front of the soup kitchen seemed to freeze.

The women covered their mouths, and the children were held tightly in the arms of the adults.

Before the remaining seven or eight burly men could react, Qi Shan had already closed in.

The blade flashed, blood and flesh flew everywhere, and the screams lasted only two breaths.

By the time Meng Da came to his senses, Qi Shan had already sheathed his sword.

Eleven corpses lay scattered on the ground in front of the soup kitchen, blood still seeping from their wounds.

The smell of blood mixed with the aroma of porridge made my stomach churn.