Volume One Command of Southern Rivers Chapter Twelve Slaying the Tiger

Old Feng nodded. Wei Fufeng then laughed at himself, “This is just empty talk on paper. Grabbing chestnuts from the fire only leads to death.”

“You need not take such risks, young master,” Old Feng replied.

“If I were willing to accept my fate and live in timid contentment, I would never have left Shangluo County. I seek a life where I can stand on my own, not one spent bowing and scraping, enslaved by my family, living like a mere steward beneath even the house slaves. I want to be a hero in life and a hero’s ghost in death,” Wei Fufeng said calmly.

“To be a hero in life, a hero’s ghost in death—such spirit, young master,” Old Feng praised in a low voice.

Wei Fufeng felt a slight flush on his face. Those words had slipped out as a way for him to dispel the fear in his heart and bolster his own courage.

In truth, he always felt a stubborn unwillingness within, unable to accept a fate even lower than that of the household servants.

“Men die for wealth, birds for food; now that fortune beckons, I can only gamble my life for it,” Wei Fufeng steeled himself inwardly.

...

At dusk, the fleet docked at Guangyuan. Wei Fufeng sent for Wang Meng, saying he wished to discuss business.

Wang Meng obeyed the summons, walked along the quay, and boarded Wei Fufeng’s boat.

Five of Wei Fufeng’s men stood outside the cabin, each with a crossbow slung across their back.

Wang Meng glanced around and saw the five men relaxed and calm. He made his way to the cabin door, bent, lifted the curtain, and stepped inside.

The cabin was divided into fore and aft sections; Wei Fufeng and Lin Qingxue occupied the rear, while the five subordinates slept in the front.

As soon as Wang Meng entered, he saw Wei Fufeng sitting at the table on a stool, facing the door, while the woman in blue tidied up the dishes.

“General Wang, you’re here,” Wei Fufeng greeted him with a smile.

Wang Meng took three steps forward, gave a military salute across the table, and bowed his head slightly. “I pay my respects, sir.”

“Sit. I want to talk about the affairs in Luzhou,” Wei Fufeng said.

Wang Meng nodded, arms at his sides, and moved to sit on the stool. But before he could settle, Wei Fufeng suddenly leaned sharply to the left.

Wang Meng started and looked up. Crack! With a twang, an arrow shot out from behind the rear curtain.

Thud! At a range of barely two meters, the ambush was deadly— the arrow flashed past Wei Fufeng’s right side, across the table, and viciously struck Wang Meng right between the eyes.

With a muffled groan, Wang Meng fell back, his right hand darting for his blade.

The woman in blue acted instantly; she flung a bowl, striking Wang Meng’s hand with precision.

Smash—the bowl shattered, but it stopped Wang Meng from drawing his sword.

Wei Fufeng moved as well, grabbing the stool and hurling it at Wang Meng as he hurriedly retreated into the rear cabin.

Inside, Old Feng stood gripping a military crossbow—the very “Moon Shooter” Wei Fufeng had hidden away in his book chest.

The front curtain was suddenly yanked aside by a burly man.

He saw the stool crash against Wang Meng, his expression shifted, and he strode into the front cabin, raising a leg and kicking Wang Meng hard in the lower back.

Already reeling from the stool, Wang Meng was sent flying by the kick. The man then seized Wang Meng’s right shoulder and, with a powerful tug, slammed him flat onto the floor.

With a heavy thud, the man threw himself onto Wang Meng to pin him down, as the other subordinates rushed in to help.

The burliest of them clamped a huge hand around Wang Meng’s throat. Wang Meng struggled desperately for a moment, then stared wide-eyed and lay still.

---

“Sir!” one of the men cried out.

“Quiet, I am unharmed,” Wei Fufeng answered from the rear cabin doorway. He had not told the five subordinates in advance about the plan to kill Wang Meng.

“As long as you’re safe, sir,” the man replied.

Wei Fufeng nodded coolly, though his calm exterior belied the dread he felt inside. He had seen many corpses, but this was the first time he had killed a military officer.

Wang Meng had proven just as fierce as rumored— even mortally wounded, he had tried to lash out.

“Sir, was he trying to attack you?” the man asked hesitantly.

“It was I who killed him. Had he lived, you would all be dead, for he meant to imprison me,” Wei Fufeng explained.

The five exchanged glances.

Wei Fufeng continued, “I’ve looked into it—Wang Meng was once a general under the former Eastern Sichuan military governor, notorious for his brutality. He never intended to serve me loyally. Once in southern Sichuan, he would have staged a mutiny and imprisoned me. You all know that the two hundred men we command here obey only Wang Meng.”

The spokesman saluted. “I do not understand much, sir, but I know I must follow your orders.”

Wei Fufeng nodded. The other four saluted in silence. Whether they understood or not, they knew they were all in the same boat as Wei Fufeng, their fortunes now tied to his.

With this unspoken agreement, Wei Fufeng gave no more explanations, but ordered Wang Meng’s armor removed. Searching his waist, they found a cloth pouch.

Wei Fufeng opened it and discovered two flat jade seals, one large, one small. Examining the inscriptions, he saw they read “Eastern Sichuan Governor” and “Chief Scribe.”

He handed the seals to Old Feng, who murmured, “He even had a forged seal for the chief scribe’s office. He must have been plotting for a long time.”

Wei Fufeng nodded. “For him to have this, it seems more than coincidence.”

“He came from the Eastern Sichuan military—ambition was in his blood. But his time never came. He was never trusted under Yang Shouliang. Now, thinking his chance had come, he was eager to persuade you to seize Luzhou,” Old Feng said.

Wei Fufeng nodded again. “There should also be blank official documents. Go find them.”

Old Feng left on this errand. Wei Fufeng entered the rear cabin and sat on the bed, lost in thought, a storm of conflicting emotions inside him. Now that the deed was done, fear crept in.

...

The fleet arrived at the Hezhou docks. Wei Fufeng went alone to bid farewell to the military inspector, then led fifty men ashore toward Changzhou.

Changzhou lay northwest of Yuzhou and southeast of Luzhou, the three forming a triangle on the map.

The prefecture had not existed long; it was established during the reign of Emperor Suzong of Tang, when Zuo Shiyi Li Dingzhu petitioned the court to carve out parts of Luzhou, Puzhou, Yuzhou, Hezhou, Zizhou, and Rongzhou, founding Changzhou with jurisdiction over Changyuan, Dazu, and Jingnan counties.

Wei Fufeng and his party landed without incident and reached Tongliang County, under Hezhou’s authority.

After discussion, it was decided that Old Feng would lead the bulk of the soldiers a day behind, while Wei Fufeng took only ten trusted men ahead to conduct business in Changzhou.

At dawn the next day, Wei Fufeng’s group set out, hiring four carriages for the journey. They entered Changzhou’s territory without trouble, arrived at Dazu County, and walked to the county yamen.

Compared to Tongliang, Dazu was even more dilapidated. The city walls were crumbling, the buildings inside uneven and disordered.

Most people on the main street wore ragged clothes—this was a poor county indeed.

From what he had learned, Wei Fufeng knew banditry was rife in Changzhou. Though there was a militia of a thousand, bandits reportedly numbered over ten thousand.

In fact, not only Changzhou suffered from bandits—war across Sichuan had bred countless large and small gangs, mostly men fleeing conscription or unable to pay taxes.

Outside the county offices, a group of officials and yamen runners hurried to meet them.

Foremost among them was a man in a blue official robe, about thirty, with a neat mustache and fair, composed features—a model of bureaucratic calm.

---

“Dazu County welcomes you, my lord,” the magistrate greeted, bowing with his officials, having been alerted by a messenger at the city gate.

“Very good. I am the newly appointed Southern Sichuan Military Commissioner, in charge of all military affairs in Changzhou and Luzhou,” Wei Fufeng introduced himself with perfect composure.

“Lord Commissioner, forgive me for not knowing,” the magistrate answered respectfully.

“Qingxue, show the county our credentials,” Wei Fufeng said.

The woman in blue stepped forward, opening a cloth bundle to reveal the tiger-shaped, green-tasselled seal of office, as well as both Wei Fufeng’s official and forged documents.

She held them out gracefully. “Here are my young master’s credentials.”

The magistrate glanced at the seal in her left hand, then carefully took the documents, opening each for inspection.

Wei Fufeng stood tense inside, employing a strategy of gradual persuasion, planting the idea of his authority step by step.

If the magistrate could not distinguish the forgeries, he would send an urgent report to the prefect.

Once the prefect received word, he would be more likely to accept the arrival of a new military commissioner. If Changzhou’s prefect recognized him, Luzhou’s prefect would soon follow.

The magistrate finished reading, returned the documents, and bowed. “It is Changzhou’s good fortune to have you in command, sir.”

“Since I am here, I will strive to suppress the bandits and bring peace to the people,” Wei Fufeng replied.

The magistrate and officials bowed again. Wei Fufeng continued, “I must proceed to Luzhou, but will stay one night in Changyuan County along the way. Prepare food and boats for us, and we will depart after noon.”

“At once, my lord,” the magistrate answered.

Wei Fufeng’s party rested in Dazu County, and after noon, departed.

With county officials seeing them off, they boarded a black-canopied boat on the Laixi River, drifting southwest toward Changyuan, the seat of Changzhou’s government.

At dusk, they reached the Changyuan docks.

Wei Fufeng saw a crowd of officials and soldiers waiting. Most conspicuous was an old man in a bright red robe, with graying hair and beard, but still ramrod-straight.

Wei Fufeng knew this was Li Song, who had served as Changzhou’s prefect for over a decade.

Changzhou was neither as strategically important nor as prosperous as its neighbors. Compared to Yuzhou and Luzhou, it hardly registered in the eyes of the Eastern Sichuan Governor.

During the chaos of the Huang Chao rebellion, the administrative order of central and southern China was shattered, and the court’s authority over much of the land was lost.

Yet the official order in Sichuan remained largely intact.

Although the regional governors had seized control, replacing local officials was not so easy. First, the court’s authority still lingered; second, local officials held power of their own.

Thus, after taking power, the governors adopted a conciliatory approach: as long as officials showed obedience and paid taxes, mutual compromise and joint governance could be achieved.

Prefect Li Song was a political survivor, having held his post even before Yang Shili’s time; the prefects of Yuzhou and Luzhou had also served for years.

After Gu Yanlang became the Eastern Sichuan Governor, it took him years to dare remove the Luzhou prefect.

Yang Shouliang, who took charge of Western Shannan Circuit even later, had managed to win only nominal submission from most prefectures.

In fact, Yang Shouliang truly ruled only Xingyuan Prefecture.