Chapter 723 - The Underground Government
Jiang Suo smiled contemptuously. With just a light push, the innkeeper lost his balance and nearly fell flat on his face. His club clattered to the ground. This drew a burst of laughter from the crowd in the courtyard.
Innkeeper Chen, humiliated and furious, cursed and ordered his clerks to act. Seeing them all hesitating and shrinking back, with none willing to step forward—these performers' skills were formidable, and starting a fight would surely go badly for him.
He hadn't expected these people with black marks against them to show such contempt, especially in front of a crowd of poor locals. How could he lose face like this? He scrambled to his feet and rushed into a small room.
Qingxia spat and silently cursed: "Bully the weak, fear the strong!" She was about to open the courtyard gate and leave when Innkeeper Chen came running back, furiously banging a gong in his hands.
The sharp, urgent sound echoed through the air. Everyone in the courtyard froze—this was an alarm gong. Normally sounded only for bandit alerts or fires. When it rang, watchmen, militia, and fire brigades would come running. Now with the Australians in charge, what use was this gong?
It proved useful. Rapid footsteps approached from outside. Then voices urgently called: "Where's the gong? Who's ringing the gong?"
Innkeeper Chen acted as if he'd found family. He yanked open the back courtyard gate, stuck his head out, and shrieked: "Sir! There are escaped training leaders here!"
No one had expected this move. Everyone in the courtyard stood frozen as if struck by lightning. After taking the town, the crop-heads had left ordinary people untouched and didn't kill indiscriminately. But militia leaders and instructors, if caught, faced certain death! Just yesterday at the threshing ground, three martial artists had been publicly hanged—all recently hired as militia instructors.
Qingxia's head buzzed. Seeing Jiang Suo reach for his short knife to fight, she quickly pressed down his hand: "Don't!" she hissed.
Though hot-blooded, Jiang Suo always listened to Master and Senior Sister. He immediately stopped and sheathed his knife. By then, a squad of marines had surged in.
Shortly after occupying Sanliang Market, the Fubo Army had restored the town's basic order, including the alarm gong system and night watchmen. Patrol squads were dispatched to all streets and alleys day and night—partly to catch escapees, partly to maintain order and prevent opportunistic looting.
Each patrol included a local watchman as guide and interpreter. When the gong sounded, marines arrived immediately.
"What's this about?" The leading sergeant scanned the courtyard, noticed Qingxia's group carrying weapons, and frowned. "You three—put your weapons on the ground!"
Qingxia quickly removed her waist-knife and pushed Jiang Suo. Jiang Suo reluctantly removed his knife too and tossed it on the ground. Seven or eight opponents—whether blades or fists, he felt he could handle them. But crop-head firearms were devastating. Never mind carrying the wounded Aunt Jiang—even if all three were unharmed, they might escape this courtyard but not the town.
Innkeeper Chen bowed and scraped as he approached: "Officer—"
"I'm a sergeant." The leading crop-head spoke precisely. "Why did you ring the gong?"
"Sergeant Sir!" Innkeeper Chen displayed a small placard. "I'm this town's liai... officer..." In his anxiety, he forgot the middle character in "liaison officer." "These three were militia instructors under that bully Luo Tianqiu. Look at that woman—she's still wounded!"
"I see." The sergeant examined them. Their appearance and manner were indeed those of martial artists. By regulation, they should be arrested for interrogation first. "Take them away!"
"Yes, sir!" Soldiers stepped forward to seize them.
"Sergeant, we're innocent!" Qingxia dropped to her knees, kowtowing repeatedly. "This humble woman and her companions are traveling performers—we carry weapons for our act. This innkeeper tried to extort our horse and property, and when he failed, he made false accusations. Please examine this matter clearly!" She kowtowed several more times.
"I don't have authority to examine anything. You'll come with me to the Bureau." The sergeant waved his hand, then told Innkeeper Chen, "Since you're the accuser, you're coming too!"
"Yes, yes—I'll come right away." Innkeeper Chen smiled broadly. "She's just making excuses. Look at that woman's leg wound..."
Qingxia's face went pale. Everything else could be explained. But Aunt Jiang's leg wound was inexplicable—how would she have a bayonet wound if she hadn't fought crop-heads?
Innkeeper Chen looked smug, adding embellishments: "That woman's archery is extraordinary—who knows if she wounded some of your boys."
Qingxia's face turned ghastly white. Seeing the innkeeper's relentless attacks, each accusation worse than the last, she knew she would never leave that so-called Bureau alive. She pleaded innocence desperately, then turned to beg the other commoners in the courtyard to testify that the innkeeper was making false accusations because his extortion had failed.
But the commoners, now knowing Innkeeper Chen had sold himself to the Australians, dared not wade into these murky waters. All stood silent as cicadas in winter. Qingxia knew that as outsiders, no one would help them. In despair, she secretly regretted her lack of experience—she had known she had a dirty record working for the Luo family, yet she had stood firm when she should have just surrendered the horse. Now caught by the Australians, killing or beatings didn't frighten her—but the whole troupe was caught up in this. Not a single person remained outside to seek help.
At this thought, her regret was agonizing. But what was done was done—nothing could be changed. She could only see what happened at the Bureau. She secretly resolved: if it could save everyone else, she would sacrifice anything.
The night before Qingxia's group was arrested, Wen Desi arrived at Sanliang Market with reinforcements.
Sanliang was the largest town the task force had captured. It was also an important wholesale hub for Dongguan and several neighboring counties—commercially significant. The spoils and prisoners captured here were the most abundant. This drew great attention from the task force's transmigrators. After news of Shi Zhiqi being struck by an arrow, Wen Desi immediately departed, bringing several transmigrators and civil affairs personnel to Sanliang Market, intending to establish operations there.
Wen Desi's reinforcement convoy needed to clear the channel of stakes to allow supply-laden long-dragons to pass. Clearing as they went, they didn't arrive until afternoon. By then, fighting was essentially over. Though taking the Luo Residence had taken time, it was captured before nightfall.
Wen Desi immediately directed "clearance" and "screening" operations across Sanliang. Many were promptly hanged. Property confiscation and seizure continued into the night.
Searches for remaining enemies continued through the darkness. Four hundred marines sealed all exits. Patrols carrying torches swept every street and alley, hunting any fugitives. Everyone caught was sent to temporary detention near the threshing ground and Bureau for disposition.
Sanliang's resistance had been the fiercest; the marines' retaliation was particularly harsh. Though discipline prevented them from venting rage on ordinary commoners, militia received no such consideration. Anyone who showed the slightest resistance or spoke disrespectfully was bayoneted on the spot.
Wen Desi finished signing the first batch of execution orders and stretched. Signing so many orders—leadership wasn't easy. He stood and looked at the firelit courtyard, now cleared of debris. Marines stood guard under the eaves. Their bayonets reflected the torchlight, gleaming coldly.
He summoned an officer on duty: "Where's Squadron Leader Shi?"
"At the temporary hospital. I'll take you there immediately." The officer said respectfully.
A side courtyard of the Bureau had been converted to a hospital. The eastern hall now served as a temporary operating room. A rosewood table was the operating table, curtains hung around it. A dozen floodlights were arranged nearby—power came from bicycle-style human-powered generators outside, marines taking turns pedaling.
Zhang Tumu finished extracting a musket ball from a militiaman's abdomen and sutured the wound. Whether this patient would survive was uncertain—conditions were too crude. But at least with surgery he had a chance; without it, he would certainly die.
"Watch the nursing. Make sure medications are given on time." After instructing the medical orderly, Zhang Tumu soaked his blood-stained latex gloves in a basin of water, cleaned them carefully, then immersed them in alcohol. In Lingao, nurses would do this for him; here he had to do it himself.
Zhang Tumu was the army surgeon. He had brought several indigenous medical students studying emergency surgery along with much equipment and medication—partly to save lives, partly to provide practice. Originally he had set up a medical station at the Bogue. But the squadron's Pearl River patrols produced few serious casualties requiring his personal intervention. Finally, he decided to travel with the squadron—if he couldn't treat their own people, at least he could treat prisoners.
With this mindset, the small medical team left half its personnel and equipment behind, and the rest sailed to Shi Zhiqi's base at Shiwan. Zhang Tumu was getting bored in Shiwan when news of Shi Zhiqi being hit by an arrow arrived. He immediately took his students and equipment, escorted by soldiers, to Sanliang.
He had expected to perform emergency surgery on Shi Zhiqi, but examining him found the squadron leader wasn't in critical condition. Shi Zhiqi sat on a couch looking dejected, the arrowhead with a short segment of shaft still embedded in his body—the field medic had found the wound dangerously close to a major artery and hadn't dared cut to extract it, waiting for Zhang Tumu.
Qingxia's arrow had struck the "armor" worn over his uniform—protective equipment issued to transmigrators not equipped with stab-proof vests, resembling an old-style steel-plate bulletproof vest with steel plates inserted at key points. The arrow had struck the heart-guard steel plate squarely—just a fraction off and it would have entered his heart.
If it had struck true, Shi Zhiqi would have died instantly, ten lives or not. The arrow was deflected by the steel plate. The arrowhead had entered his shoulder at an angle. The wound wasn't serious. Zhang Tumu cleaned it, administered a tetanus injection, and gave him antibiotics.
"You're lucky," Zhang Tumu said to the grimacing Shi Zhiqi as he sutured the wound without anesthesia. "Almost hit the artery. If it had, you'd be beyond saving. You'd be heading to Cuigang for a memorial service."
"Dr. Zhang, have you no compassion?" Shi Zhiqi groaned from his bed. "My bones aren't broken, right..."
"Bones intact, but you've got severe soft tissue contusions all over—that's rough. You'll need proper rest for a while. Get X-rayed back in Lingao to check for ligament and joint damage—I'm not an orthopedist, can't make guarantees." Zhang Tumu washed his hands. "Lucky you didn't break bones falling from a rooftop. Be more careful from now on!"
Shi Zhiqi said weakly: "We marine officers always lead from the front."
"Heh," Zhang Tumu smiled. "Honestly, you are indeed the most seriously wounded in your squadron."
Shi Zhiqi let out a sound between shame and anger: "Fourteen dead all told, and I'm wounded too—how do I explain this back home? Lost all face and substance!"
"Actually, fourteen dead. Two more died during the assault." Zhang Tumu said. "But all the wounded will survive."
"Dear heavens." Shi Zhiqi groaned—the movement apparently triggered some pain, and he winced.
Zhang Tumu asked: "Want some painkillers?"
"No thanks. What you've got is just opium or coca—I absolutely won't touch those." Shi Zhiqi said. "Maybe some videos instead..."
"Laptop's out of power." Zhang Tumu refused immediately. "You should rest well. I'll give you some sleeping pills from Runshitang—Liu San boasts they're pure traditional Chinese medicine. Of course, opium is technically also pure traditional Chinese medicine."
"I don't dare rest—there's only two transmigrators here. You've never commanded troops. If I leave things to indigenous officers, I worry about mistakes."
"I think they're performing very well—methodical and organized. Order's already restored in town. Stop worrying. Besides, Chief Wen is arriving this afternoon with D Squadron. With him in charge, what's there to worry about?"
"Chief Wen is coming too?"
"That's right. Once he's finished, he'll probably come see you." Zhang Tumu smiled. "Too bad Huang Zhuazi isn't here to act as photographer. Otherwise, some shots of 'Chief Wen Warmly Visits War Hero Shi Zhiqi' might even make the elementary school textbooks someday."
"Stop teasing me." Shi Zhiqi knew he was joking about his "glorious exploits" at Lantau. "What good does that do me..."
"No good for you—good for Chief Wen. Great propaganda material."
"What damn good for me." Chief Wen's voice came from outside. "I'm not interested. Real men rely on real ability! That flashy stuff is useless!"
Wen Desi had indeed come to visit Shi Zhiqi. His purpose wasn't photos but post-operations in Sanliang—he wanted Shi Zhiqi's input.
In terms of "administrative rank," Wen Desi far outranked Shi Zhiqi. But both were transmigrators, and this town had mainly been captured by Shi Zhiqi's squadron. Though now wounded and unable to handle affairs, some formal respect was still appropriate.
"...I don't have any particular views. You handle it as you see fit, Chief." Shi Zhiqi assumed an attitude of complete trust. "But we need harsh retaliation—make them understand what happens when they resist the Fubo Army..." Fearing Chief Wen might think he wanted revenge just because he'd been hit by an arrow, he quickly recounted losing an entire squad to a wanrenji on the river.
"I can't swallow this... eleven marines, all our best young men... just gone like that..." Emotion entered Shi Zhiqi's voice—these soldiers had grown up under his command after all.
"Mm." Wen Desi nodded but didn't indicate what he would actually do. This battle example Shi Zhiqi mentioned deserved staff discussion—the natives were beginning to experiment with asymmetric counter-tactics. This trend required attention.
"I'll investigate this thoroughly," Wen Desi said. "As for retaliation, Sanliang resisted so stubbornly—perfect opportunity to eliminate the local magnates. But," he expressed concern, "we can't stay here long. Eliminating them without establishing government is rather a waste."
"I suggest setting up an underground party..." Shi Zhiqi said. "Doesn't External Intelligence have both land and sea networks, plus this 'Five Element Flags' system? Some doing business, some gathering intelligence. Just have Jiang Shan send some indigenous personnel here to do business and build a local organization—earn money while providing intelligence."
Using the current military occupation's advantage, purge all potential opponents. Cultivate a group of collaborators as the underground party's outer layer. Secretly control key market towns.
Market towns were the nexus between cities and countryside, with strong radiating influence over surrounding villages. Whether for future currency penetration or commodity penetration, this would be highly beneficial.
Wen Desi had considered this scheme—he had discussed post-operation matters with Wu De, Jiang Shan, and Si Kaide via telegram regarding the Pearl River "taxation" operations. They had discussed how, for some militarily occupied large towns, it would be wasteful to simply kill some people, seize some goods, arrange some proxies for "Reasonable Burden," and withdraw. Better to exploit the Ming-Qing governments' failure to extend authority to villages and insert themselves into the vacuum, establishing an "underground government."
(End of Chapter)