Chapter 53: Chapter 52. I wish to serve my country.

Chapter 52.

After resting for a day, the suppression army set out again and arrived in Qingzhou Prefecture three days later.

The prefectural seat of Qingzhou was Yidu. Outside the city, 5,000 soldiers from the four guards encamped, while Yin Chengyu was welcomed into the city by An Yuanhou, the Governor of Shandong, the Qingzhou Prefect, and a host of officials.

The rebellion of the Hongying Army had thrown the region into chaos. Many commoners, lured by the promise of change, had joined the uprising. They looted government offices and wealthy households, leaving Yidu in shambles. The streets were desolate, with barely a soul in sight, the air thick with despair.

“Is the Hongying Red Army still entrenched at Xieshi Stronghold?” Yin Chengyu asked curtly as he arrived at the government office, flanked by the officials.

“Yes,” An Yuanhou Xu Hui responded, his voice laced with bitterness. “The rebels have grown brazen, preying on the ignorance of the people. Whole families from nearby counties and villages have defected to their side. The moment our troops approach, these villagers rush to warn the stronghold.”

Xu Hui’s face darkened as he recounted his frustrations. He slapped his injured left leg, his limp evident with every step. “This leg—crippled while I was leading the search for the Second Prince—was wounded by those ignorant peasants!”

Yin Chengyu’s eyes flicked to the injured leg. The wound appeared genuine enough, but he chose not to pursue the topic of his missing brother, Yin Chengzhang, just yet. Instead, he pressed further about the rebels. “What kind of leader is this so-called Hongying Red Army commander to stir up such widespread chaos in so little time?”

In the history of the Great Yan dynasty, minor uprisings had occurred before, but even the largest groups barely gathered a few thousand people. The Hongying Red Army, however, had swelled to tens of thousands within just two months—an unprecedented scale.

Prefect Ding Shunchang stepped forward, his tone grim. “The leader of the Hongying Red Army is a woman named Gao Youwen, formerly the abbess of a nunnery in Putai. She claims to be the reincarnation of the ‘Buddhist Mother,’ gifted with the power to see past lives and futures. She founded the Red Lotus Sect a few years ago, deceiving countless followers into her fold. She promises that through devout worship, her followers will be reborn into wealthy families free from suffering.”

“Shandong has been plagued by disasters in recent years, and the people are desperate. Even with nothing to spare, they scrape together offerings of grain and silver in hopes of a better afterlife. Before launching her rebellion, Gao Youwen claimed to have received divine guidance. She unearthed a stone box beneath her temple’s altar, which allegedly contained sacred scriptures and a sword of heaven. Armed with these ‘holy relics,’ she declared a crusade against evil and raised the banner of revolt.

“Her sect’s network runs deep, and many villagers sympathize with her cause. Even those who don’t join outright still favor the rebels over the imperial army, providing intelligence and shelter. Qingzhou’s forces have launched several offensives, but we’ve been repeatedly outmaneuvered.”

Yin Chengyu’s brows furrowed as he listened.

Endless disasters, widespread poverty, and grinding hardship—it was no wonder the people clung to such false hope. True, the Red Lotus Sect preyed on their ignorance, but at its core, the issue lay in the devastating famine. Starving people had no choice but to pin their hopes on the promises of an afterlife.

If life had been even a fraction easier, would these people have fallen so easily for Gao Youwen’s lies?

It was clear to Yin Chengyu that neither An Yuanhou nor Prefect Ding saw their own role in this crisis. Both were eager to pin the blame on the peasants’ ignorance and the cult’s manipulations, conveniently ignoring their own failures.

After a long silence, Yin Chengyu finally spoke. “Send spies to keep a close eye on Xieshi Stronghold. Know your enemy, and you can win every battle.” Then, as if the thought had just occurred to him, he turned to An Yuanhou and inquired about his brother. “Any word on the Second Prince?”

An Yuanhou sighed heavily, shaking his head. “The mountain paths are treacherous, and it was dark when he disappeared. I’ve dispatched hundreds to search for him, but there’s still no trace.”

“Send more men,” Yin Chengyu ordered sharply, his tone hardening. “If manpower is lacking, assign additional forces. I came to Yidu for my brother, and I won’t leave without him. Alive or dead, I want him found.”

Feigning the appearance of a concerned brother, Yin Chengyu’s expression softened just enough to sell the act.

An Yuanhou studied his face intently, searching for any hint of ulterior motive, but he found none. Relieved, he bowed deeply and promised, “As you command, Your Highness.”

……

Yin Chengyu trudged across miles of rough terrain, finally arriving in Yidu by dusk. After getting a quick rundown of the current situation from a few subordinates, he retreated to his quarters to rest.

Meanwhile, the Marquis of Anyuan personally escorted his guest to the gates, watching the carriage disappear into the distance. Only then did he return to his residence, discreetly donning a disguise before slipping out of the city and heading to a secluded farmhouse on the outskirts of Yizhou.

Inside, Yin Chengzhang was nursing his injuries. His face darkened as soon as he saw the marquis enter. “So, the Crown Prince has arrived, hasn’t he?”

The Marquis’s response was a sly mix of truth and deception.

That disastrous ambush at Xieshi Fort wasn’t entirely as it seemed. It was true that taking the shortcut and launching a nighttime assault had been a setup, but the Marquis had realized something was wrong halfway through and tried to pull back. Unfortunately, the rebels had outmaneuvered them, cutting off their escape route. With enemies ahead and behind, they had no choice but to grit their teeth and force their way through.

Thanks to the Marquis’s quick thinking, they avoided falling completely into the trap, escaping with a loss of just over a thousand men. But Yin Chengzhang hadn’t been so lucky. Stationed at the rear to cover their retreat, he ended up clashing directly with the encircling rebel forces and, amid the chaos, tumbled down a mountainside.

It took the Marquis and his men two grueling days scouring the valley to finally find him. Though his injuries weren’t fatal, the defeat was humiliating enough. Reporting the incident to the court would not only bring punishment but risk tarnishing Yin Chengzhang’s reputation as a capable leader in the eyes of the Emperor and the court.

The stakes were too high. Noble Consort Wen, who had gone to great lengths to send the Marquis alongside Yin Chengzhang on this campaign, had done so to ensure her son could secure a decisive victory. It was all part of her broader strategy: to reassure the court officials who backed the Second Prince and to build leverage against the Crown Prince in their quiet, simmering power struggle.

But instead of triumph, they’d been handed an embarrassing defeat.

The Marquis, a seasoned player in the court’s treacherous game, wasn’t about to let this setback derail their plans. After a night of careful planning, he devised a bold scheme. Yin Chengzhang would “disappear,” while the Marquis exaggerated the rebels’ strength and used this to bait the Crown Prince into coming to Shandong to personally lead the counter-insurgency.

With the Second Prince conveniently missing and Shandong in chaos, no one would be a more obvious choice than the Crown Prince.

The Marquis was confident—seven parts certain—that the Crown Prince would take the bait. Once he arrived, the Marquis would set his next move into motion: an assassination plot amidst the chaos of battle.

Whether the attempt succeeded or failed didn’t matter. If the Crown Prince suffered any harm, it would shatter the army’s morale. Then, the Second Prince could make a miraculous return, turn the tide of the battle, and erase any memory of their earlier defeat.

By then, no one would remember the failed ambush; the Second Prince’s heroic comeback would outshine everything, eclipsing even the Crown Prince himself.

The Marquis stroked his beard with satisfaction as he shared his news. “Just as I anticipated, the Crown Prince is now staying at the guest quarters in Yidu.” His voice carried a note of triumph as his sharp eyes studied Yin Chengzhang. “How are your injuries, Your Highness?”

Yin Chengzhang gave a curt nod. “Much better. The physician says I’ll be fully recovered in five days at most.”

Though he had tumbled down the mountainside, dense undergrowth had broken his fall, leaving him with nothing more than superficial injuries.

“Good, good,” the Marquis said smoothly. “Then take this time to recover well. Now that the Crown Prince has arrived in Yidu, I won’t risk coming here again. If there’s any news, I’ll send someone else.”

Despite his arrogance, Yin Chengzhang wasn’t blind to the bigger picture. He knew the Marquis was his mother’s handpicked ally, and though he detested staying in such a miserable backwater, he gritted his teeth and nodded in agreement.

*

Yin Chengyu rested for a night at the temporary residence. By the crack of dawn, he summoned Inspector Pang Yi and Magistrate Ding Changshun. The plan was simple: drag those two along for a firsthand look at the devastation across Qingzhou.

The trio rode out on horseback, flanked by guards, making a circuit around the outskirts of Yidu. The horrors of Shandong were impossible to hide. Outside the city walls, everywhere you looked were peasants in rags, their faces hollow and numb. When they caught sight of Yin Chengyu and his entourage, they barely reacted. No cries for help, no spark of hope—just blank stares, gnawing mindlessly on tree roots, eyes sunken with despair.

Pang Yi finally broke the suffocating silence, sighing as he explained, “These people have no strength left to do anything but sit here, hoping for scraps of porridge from wealthier families. The stronger ones, desperate to fill their bellies, have already fled to Xieshizhai, thinking the rebels would at least provide food. But what do they know? Staying in Yidu might mean the occasional handout, but heading to the rebels’ camp? That’s a straight march to death.”

His face was a map of worry, his sighs endless.

Yin Chengyu’s expression didn’t flicker. He shot out a single, cutting question: “What about the emergency grain? Why hasn’t it been distributed?”

Shandong and other disaster-prone regions were stocked with disaster relief grain. Whenever calamity struck, those stores were supposed to serve as the lifeline.

Pang Yi responded, voice heavy with resignation, “The grain’s long gone. The disaster this time is massive—too many mouths to feed. The rations were used up almost immediately. We intended to requisition supplies from nearby granaries, but before we could act, the rebellion erupted.”

Yin Chengyu stood silent for a moment, his brows knitting as he thought. Finally, he said, “I’ll issue an imperial order. Pull emergency grain from surrounding regions and distribute it at once.”

Hearing this, Pang Yi and Ding Changshun’s faces lit up with gratitude. They bowed deeply. “On behalf of the people of Shandong, we thank Your Highness for your mercy.”

Yin Chengyu’s sharp gaze swept over them, masking a flicker of icy disdain. “I’ve seen enough of the disaster. Let’s return.”

Back at the temporary residence, Pang Yi and Ding Changshun escorted Yin Chengyu inside, bowing deeply as they took their leave. Once Yin Chengyu had disappeared indoors, the two exchanged a brief glance and rode off toward their offices.

Inside the residence, Yin Chengyu dismounted and spotted Xue Shu, just returning from the military camp outside the city. A single glance, a raised chin, and Xue Shu understood. He followed Yin Chengyu into the study.

“I need spies sent out immediately. Find out everything you can about Gao Youwen and the Red Lotus Sect—leave no stone unturned.” Yin Chengyu began scribbling on a sheet of paper, his tone sharp and unyielding. “Also, assign skilled agents to monitor Xu Hui, Pang Yi, and Ding Changshun. No sloppy work. I want detailed reports on their every move, but don’t spook them.”

He finished writing, folded the paper, and tossed it to Xue Shu. “And one more thing—get me one of your plain outfits. I’m heading out undercover.”

Xue Shu caught the note, frowning. “Your Highness, the enemy is in the shadows while we’re exposed. Leaving the residence like this is dangerous.”

Yin Chengyu’s voice was cold and firm. “I just toured the outskirts of Yidu with Pang Yi and Ding Changshun. The people there are barely surviving. If it’s like this here, the situation elsewhere must be even worse. Pang Yi claims the disaster relief grain is gone—but are they telling the truth? I won’t believe it until I see it with my own eyes.”

Faced with Yin Chengyu’s determination, Xue Shu had no choice but to fetch a plain set of clothes.

Yin Chengyu slipped behind a screen to change. The outfit, being Xue Shu’s, was loose on him, but it worked to disguise his figure. The muted blue robes added a touch of frailty to his usually imposing presence.

When he stepped out, he deliberately hunched his shoulders and lowered his head. At first glance, he could almost pass as a timid eunuch. But then he raised his face—a stunningly refined face, sharp yet delicate, instantly undermining the illusion of mediocrity. Even the simple robe seemed to radiate an air of effortless elegance on him.

“Will this suffice to fool anyone?” he asked dryly. The hint of a smirk danced on his lips, daring anyone to underestimate him.

Xue Shu fixed his intense gaze on him for a long moment before finally breaking the silence, his tone low but unyielding. “When we head out, Your Highness, keep your head down.”

With a face as strikingly beautiful as his, no disguise, not even a burlap sack, could mask him from being recognized.

Yin Chengyu threw him a sideways glance, quietly taking note of the warning before falling into step with him as they exited.

Xue Shu strode confidently ahead, while Yin Chengyu lagged half a step behind, hunching his shoulders and bowing his head so low he might as well have been staring at his own feet. Even his usual composed gait shifted, his steps now quick and uncertain, like a man trying to melt into the shadows.

They slipped out of Yidu City without a hitch, their movements unnoticed. Once outside the city limits, Yin Chengyu dropped the charade, straightened himself, and nodded toward the west. “We’ll head to Linqu first.”

Qingzhou Prefecture oversaw three states and sixteen counties, with Linqu, Shouguang, and Changle all situated near Yidu. Yin Chengyu planned to sweep through all three.

Xue Shu’s men had prepared horses just outside the city. Mounting up, the two of them sped toward Linqu without delay.

By the time the sun began to wane, Yin Chengyu had surveyed all three counties. The scenes of devastation mirrored Yidu’s grim reality. Yet, when he and Xue Shu went door to door questioning the locals about government aid, the answer was always the same—a shake of the head.

Not a single family had seen a grain of relief.

Their responses directly contradicted the reports from Pang Yi and his accomplice.

Yin Chengyu instructed Xue Shu to meticulously record the names and household details of every family they interviewed, ensuring there would be no room for error when cross-checking with official records.

Disaster relief followed a strict protocol: the village chief would document the affected households, compiling a list to send to the local government for verification. Only after this process could relief grain be distributed. If a family’s name wasn’t on the list, they’d receive nothing. Every sack of grain, every recipient—it was all supposed to be accounted for.

Over a hundred names now filled Xue Shu’s ledger. It wouldn’t take much to compare these with the records back in Yidu and expose the lies. So many voices couldn’t all be wrong. Yin Chengyu had already made up his mind, but he prided himself on building airtight cases, and this would be no exception.

By the time they returned to Yidu, it was already the evening hour, and the city gates had long since closed. Xue Shu flashed a token of authority, allowing them entry through a side gate.

Leaving their horses outside the walls, Yin Chengyu once again adopted the hunched posture of a lowly eunuch, trailing behind Xue Shu as they moved through the dimly lit streets.

The city had fallen silent, save for the occasional patrol of guards. Only the brothels and gambling dens still pulsed with life, their red lanterns glowing, laughter and music spilling into the darkness. Wealthy patrons strolled in and out, their opulence a stark contrast to the surrounding desolation.

Yin Chengyu cast a glance at the lively scene, his lips curling into a faint sneer. “The stench of meat and wine at rich men’s doors, while the bones of the starving lie in the streets.”

Xue Shu followed his gaze but suddenly stiffened, his expression sharpening. Without warning, he grabbed Yin Chengyu and yanked him into the nearest open doorway.

The scent of cheap perfume hit them as a heavily painted madam sashayed over, her face lit with a practiced smile. That’s when it hit them—they’d stumbled into a brothel.

Yin Chengyu’s expression darkened as he glared at Xue Shu.

But Xue Shu quickly signaled silently: We’re being followed.

Yin Chengyu’s irritation melted into calm understanding. He said nothing, letting Xue Shu take the lead as they headed upstairs.

The madam, oblivious to their tension, ushered them into a private room, serving hot tea with exaggerated grace before excusing herself to fetch the "girls."

While the room briefly emptied, Yin Chengyu moved to the window, cracked it open, and scanned the street below. He saw nothing. “Who’s after us?” he asked softly.

Xue Shu shook his head, frowning. “The light’s too dim. Couldn’t get a clear look.”

“Not Pang Yi’s men, then likely rebels,” Yin Chengyu murmured, narrowing his eyes. “They’re the only ones with reason to track me.”

“Still there?” he asked without turning.

Xue Shu peered out once more before nodding grimly. “They haven’t left.”

Yin Chengyu’s lips curved into a dangerous smirk. “Good. Let’s reel them in a bit longer. Send a signal to our people. I don’t want this one slipping away.”

Xue Shu gave a curt nod and slipped downstairs to relay the signal. Spies stationed in the city would see it and move to intercept.

When Xue Shu returned, he found the madam back with three women in tow, their faces painted to perfection. She beamed, gesturing with open arms. “These are our finest girls, sirs. Which one do you fancy?”

Xue Shu’s face turned cold, his patience clearly thinning.

———Author's Note:

Doggy: “The hell is this?”

Doggy: “Are you kidding me right now?”

Doggy: Growls in absolute fury.

———TN:

Is there anyone here?