Chief Armaments Master of the Ming Dynasty

March, Fugu County.

Fugu is a small county in the northernmost part of Yan'an Prefecture, right next to the Yellow River, with Shanxi Province on the opposite bank.

The county town is not large. The city wall is made of rammed earth and has been in disrepair for many years, with many parts collapsed. The highest point is only a little over two zhang (approximately 6.6 meters).

The city's garrison, nominally a guard unit, was actually reduced to less than two hundred men due to embezzlement of their pay, and most of them were old, weak, sick, or disabled.

The garrison commander, surnamed Sun, was an old soldier in his fifties whose greatest skill was embezzling soldiers' pay and exploiting them. As for fighting, he had never seen a real battle in his life.

Wang Jiayin has had his eye on Fugu for some time now.

He sent men to find out the details of the city in advance—the garrison was less than two hundred men, there were four gaps in the city wall that could be climbed, and the officers were drinking the soldiers' blood, causing widespread resentment among the soldiers.

More importantly, there is a granary in the city that stores the grain collected last autumn.

Although most of them were transferred away by the government, what was left was enough to feed his six thousand men for one or two months.

"Big brother, let's fight!" Wang Ziyong rubbed his hands together, his eyes full of fighting spirit.

He almost died at the hands of government troops in Huanglong Mountain, and he was burning with anger, wanting to pull off a big heist to vent his anger.

Wang Jiayin did not answer immediately.

He sat on a rock, gazing at the faint outline of Fugu County in the distance, his eyes gleaming.

---

The siege was scheduled for the early morning of the ninth day of the third lunar month.

There was no probing, no feint.

Wang Jiayin deployed all his elite troops—the vanguard of eight hundred men led by Wang Ziyong, all of whom were veterans who had fought in battle and were fearless in the face of death.

Under the cover of night, they quietly crept to several gaps in the city wall, set up makeshift wooden ladders, and climbed upwards using both hands and feet.

On the city wall, the guards were dozing off.

The nights in northern Shaanxi in March are still bitterly cold.

The soldiers guarding the city, wrapped in tattered cotton-padded coats, huddled under the battlements, fast asleep.

The sentry was awake, but his eyes were fixed on the darkness outside the city—where he could see nothing.

He hadn't expected the enemy to sneak up through the breach in the city wall.

The first person to climb over the breach was Wang Ziyong.

He remained agile, and although his left arm injury from Huanglong Mountain had not fully healed, it did not affect his climbing speed at all.

He flipped over the gap and landed on the inner side of the city wall in the passageway, making almost no sound.

A sentry heard the noise and turned around.

Before he could even see what it was, a flash of light appeared, and his throat was slit open.

Blood gushed out, splashing a dark red flower on the cold city bricks.

The sentry clutched his throat, making a hoarse sound, and slowly collapsed.

"Enemy—" Just as another sentry was about to shout, Wang Ziyong threw out his short knife and plunged it into his chest.

More rebels poured in through the breach.

The soldiers on the city wall were startled awake from their dreams, rushed out of their barracks in disheveled clothes, and stumbled as they grabbed their weapons.

But their resistance was as fragile as paper in the face of veterans like Wang Ziyong, who had been through countless battles.

Amidst the flashing blades and screams of agony, a fierce battle ensued.

In less than half an hour, the guards on the city wall were wiped out.

The battalion commander, surnamed Sun, was awakened from his sleep by shouts of killing.

He didn't even have time to put on his armor; he ran outside barefoot.

He ran to the entrance of the county government office and bumped into Wang Ziyong.

"Hero, spare my life! Hero, spare my life!" Commander Sun knelt on the ground, kowtowing repeatedly.

Wang Ziyong looked down at him, a disdainful smile on his lips.

He recalled how the government troops had surrounded and annihilated them in Huanglong Mountain last year, and the brothers who had died under the government troops' swords.

His hand gripped the hilt of the knife tightly.

"Use it yourself, spare his life." Wang Jiayin's voice came from behind.

Wang Ziyong turned around and saw his elder brother striding towards him.

Wang Jiayin walked up to Commander Sun and looked down at him.

"Are you the garrison commander?"

"Yes...yes..." General Sun's teeth chattered.

"Where are the city's granaries?"

"Behind the county government office..."

"lead the way."

General Sun scrambled to his feet and led the way.

Wang Jiayin turned around and said something to Wang Ziyong.

"Pass down the order: no indiscriminate killing of civilians, no rape or plunder. Anyone who disobeys will be executed."

Wang Ziyong was stunned. This was not their usual practice.

In the past, after a city was captured, we would always "let loose" for a while, so that the brothers could vent their anger and replenish their strength.

If we don't allow looting, where will the brothers' morale come from?

"Big brother, this..."

"I said, Fugu isn't something we can just plunder and leave. We're going to occupy it." Wang Jiayin's gaze was cold. "Occupy it, and that means having people. If you kill and rob all the people, who will farm for you? Who will pay your taxes? Go and issue the order."

Wang Ziyong opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing more, and turned to give the order.

At daybreak, the entire city of Fugu fell into the hands of Wang Jiayin.

The resisting defenders were killed, and those who surrendered were taken prisoner.

General Sun opened the gate to the granary.

Inside, there were more than two thousand bushels of grain—millet, wheat, black beans, and a small amount of salt and cloth.

Wang Jiayin stood at the entrance of the granary, gazing at the small mountain of sacks, and remained silent for a long time.

"For personal use only, post a notice," he said. "Say that Wang Jiayin has opened the granaries to distribute grain. All people in Fugu, regardless of age, will receive three dou of grain each. Orphans and widows will receive five dou. The injured and disabled will receive five dou."

"Three dou?" Wang Ziyong exclaimed in surprise. "Brother, three dou of grain is enough for one person to eat for a month! We have six thousand brothers..."

"The grain for our six thousand brothers will come from the official granary," Wang Jiayin interrupted him. "This grain was originally collected from the people. Now, it's being returned to the people. Also," he paused, "from today onwards, the Fugu County government office will be renamed the 'Righteous Army General Administration Office.' Those clerks and runners from the original county government office who wish to stay will be employed as before. Those who don't wish to leave."

Wang Ziyong was completely stunned.

Big brother, are you... planning to establish a small imperial court right here in Fugu County?

"Remember this," Wang Jiayin said, looking into his eyes. "From today onward, we are no longer bandits. We are the garrison of Fugu. This city is our city. This land is our land. These people are our people. If the government troops come to attack, we will defend. If we hold on, this will be our home. If we cannot hold on..."

He didn't go on.

But Wang Ziyong understood.

If you can't hold on to it, you'll lose everything.

The news of the opening of the granaries and the distribution of grain spread like wildfire throughout Fugu County and then to the surrounding villages and towns.

On the first day, only a few dozen brave people cautiously approached the granary.

They couldn't believe that the "bandits" would actually distribute grain.

But when they saw the bags of grain being carried out, and when they saw the militia soldiers armed with knives and guns not only not robbing them, but also maintaining order and driving away the thugs who tried to cut in line, they believed it.

"King Wang is benevolent and righteous!"

I don't know who shouted it first.

Then, more people joined in the shouting.

"King Wang is benevolent and righteous!"

"King Wang is our savior!"

The shouts echoed at the entrance of the granary and reverberated throughout the streets and alleys of Fugu.

More and more people flocked to the granary.

An old man came leaning on a cane, a woman came carrying a child, and a disabled beggar crawled over.

Everyone who received the food knelt on the ground and kowtowed to Wang Jiayin.

Wang Jiayin stood at the entrance of the granary, watching this scene with no expression on his face.

But something was stirring within him.

He couldn't explain what it was. It wasn't pride, nor satisfaction. It was something more complex. After fighting so many wars and killing so many people, for the first time, someone had genuinely knelt down and called him "savior."

"Brother, several hundred more people have arrived outside." Wang Ziyong hurried over, his face filled with barely suppressed excitement. "They're all from nearby villages. They heard we were distributing grain and rushed here overnight. Some even said they'd bring their whole families to join us."

Wang Jiayin nodded. "Those who defect, be incorporated into the camp. The elderly, weak, women, and children, be properly settled. Remember, no one is allowed to bully the common people. Anyone who breaks the rules will be dealt with according to military law."

"yes!"

Wang Ziyong turned to leave, but Wang Jiayin called him back.

"For your own use, there is one more thing. Send someone to Ziwu Ridge to deliver a letter to Li Zicheng."

"Li Zicheng?" Wang Ziyong was taken aback. "What message?"

"A letter of alliance." Wang Jiayin's gaze turned south, towards the direction of Ziwu Ridge. "Tell him that I, Wang Jiayin, have occupied Fugu. I invite him to Fugu to discuss important matters."

Wang Ziyong's eyes widened: "Big brother, you mean...?"

"Shaanxi is a place that's neither too big nor too small," Wang Jiayin said slowly. "The government troops are going to wipe us out, so we can't keep fighting on our own. Li Zicheng is a formidable figure, and his subordinate, Master Lin, is an even greater treasure. If we can join forces, Shaanxi will be ours."

Wang Ziyong swallowed hard and nodded emphatically: "I'll take care of it right away!"

He turned and strode away.

Wang Jiayin stood alone at the entrance of the granary, watching the people who received the grain and left with profuse thanks, watching the starving people who came from all directions, carrying the old and the young, to seek refuge with him, and watching the small town that he had just occupied, which was still filled with the smell of blood.

The sun rises from the eastern mountains, casting golden rays upon the city walls of Fugu.

The light shone on the collapsed gaps, on the remaining bloodstains, and on the newly posted notices, the ink still wet.

The notice read: "Wang Jiayin has opened the granaries to distribute grain. Each person in Fugu will receive three dou of grain."

Three bushels of grain can sustain you for a month.

What will happen a month later?

Wang Jiayin didn't know. But he did know that from this day forward, Fugu was no longer the imperial court's Fugu. It was his Fugu. It was the rebel army's Fugu.

It was the granary of the poor who could not survive and had no choice but to rebel.

"We've held on; this is our home."

He repeated the sentence aloud, then turned around and walked back to the county government office—no, the headquarters of the rebel army.