Zhao Ming stepped into Murong Trading House, where Shopkeeper Wu and Murong De were already waiting. The scent of parchment, ink, and stored grain filled the air as they gestured for him to sit.

  Murong De leaned forward, his sharp eyes studying Zhao Ming. "How's the situation at Eastern Hill?"

  Zhao Ming smiled slightly. "Better than expected. The people are settling in well. We've secured food from hunting and fishing, and foraging has been productive. The only issue is grain—our stock is running low, and we still can’t farm. We need tools before we can even start preparing the land."

  Shopkeeper Wu stroked his beard. "And how many can you sustain right now?"

  "Thirty to fifty families, for now. With Lady Yu's help, I plan to request permission from Governor Kong to bring their families over as soon as possible," Zhao Ming explained.

  Murong De raised a brow, surprised at the swift progress. "That fast? I expected things to take longer."

  Zhao Ming nodded. "Everyone is eager to build a new life. The sooner we stabilize, the better."

  Shopkeeper Wu chuckled. "And let me guess, you're here because you need something?"

  Zhao Ming grinned. "Chickens. If we can get a small flock, we can produce eggs, and they'll breed, providing long-term food security. Also, we desperately need farming tools to prepare the land."

  Murong De exchanged a glance with Shopkeeper Wu before nodding. "I can arrange that. Consider it an investment in Eastern Hill’s future."

  Shopkeeper Wu added, "We have extra farming tools in storage. Some are slightly worn but still usable. I’ll send them along with the chickens."

  Murong De smirked. "No need to wait. I’ll have them sent to Eastern Hill today. It’ll give the people something to work on while you handle the permissions."

  Zhao Ming clasped his hands in gratitude. "Thank you. This will make a big difference."

  Murong De chuckled. "If you truly want to show gratitude, you should visit Lady Yu and thank her personally. She didn’t have to help, but she did."

  Zhao Ming nodded. "I planned to. I’ll see her after I meet Governor Kong."

  Before he could leave, Zhao Ming asked, "By the way, how's the situation in Langya?"

  Murong De’s expression turned serious. "The rebels are still stationed there, but there's movement. We’re not sure where they’ll head next, so we’re keeping an eye on them."

  Zhao Ming frowned. "If they march toward Beihai, we need to be ready."

  Murong De nodded. "We’ll know soon enough. But for now, focus on securing the refugees’ future."

  Zhao Ming rose. "Then I’ll head to the governor’s office first. After that, I’ll visit Lady Yu."

  Murong De waved him off with a chuckle. "Go on. Just don’t keep her waiting too long."

  As Zhao Ming approached the governor’s residence, the guards at the entrance straightened slightly. By now, they were familiar with him—his efforts at Eastern Hill had gained some recognition among Beihai’s officials.

  One of the guards, a middle-aged man with a scar along his jaw, gave a nod. "Zhao Ming, back again? Word’s been going around about what you’re doing for the refugees."

  Zhao Ming clasped his hands in greeting. "All thanks to Governor Kong’s support."

  Another guard chuckled. "Still, not many would take in refugees and actually make something of it. Most would just leave them to their fate."

  Zhao Ming smiled. "Well, let’s hope the governor sees it that way too. I need to speak with him regarding bringing their families over."

  The first guard turned to his comrade. "Go inform Aide Chen."

  As one of the guards disappeared inside, Zhao Ming remained outside, chatting briefly with the others. It was a small interaction, but earning goodwill from the guards never hurt.

  After a short wait, the returning guard waved him through. "Governor Kong is busy at the moment, but Aide Chen will see you shortly. You can head in and wait near the main hall."

  Zhao Ming nodded in thanks and followed the familiar path inside.

  As Zhao Ming stepped into the main hall, he immediately sensed the tension in the air. A nobleman, clad in embroidered silk with golden patterns of dragons and clouds, stood in the center of the room, his face twisted in anger. His sharp features and well-groomed beard did little to mask the arrogance in his posture.

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  "I don’t care about excuses!" Zhao Feng slammed his palm on the table, the sound echoing through the chamber. "The refugees are wasting away in these makeshift camps when they could be put to proper use. Arm them, train them, and send them back to Langya to reclaim what was lost!"

  Seated at the head of the chamber, Governor Kong Rong rubbed his temples, his patience visibly thinning. "Master Zhao Feng, the situation in Langya is dire. We do not have the resources to launch an offensive, let alone expect displaced civilians to reclaim a war-torn land."

  Lu Zhi, standing to Kong Rong’s side, gave Zhao Feng a cold glance. "Do you believe untrained commoners, who have just lost everything, can stand against seasoned rebels? Do you intend to send them to their deaths?"

  Zhao Feng scoffed. "Seasoned rebels? You speak as if these bandits are unstoppable. What difference is there between a peasant and a soldier? Both wield weapons, both fight—if they are willing to work, they should be willing to fight!"

  Lu Zhi’s eyes narrowed. "You misunderstand war, Master Zhao. A soldier is trained, disciplined, and prepared for battle. A farmer forced onto the battlefield is nothing more than fodder for the enemy."

  Kong Rong sighed. "If we were to follow your suggestion, we would only increase the number of corpses, not reclaim Langya."

  Zhao Feng’s lip curled. "Better to die reclaiming their homes than to become beggars! Instead, you coddle them—allowing them to wander freely like rootless weeds!"

  Lu Zhi’s voice turned sharp. "These so-called 'weeds' are people, Master Zhao. You speak of them as if they are tools to be discarded at your convenience."

  Zhao Feng sneered. "Tools? That is exactly what they are! Peasants exist to serve the land and their lords. If they refuse to fight for their homeland, what use do they have? What kind of ruler allows his people to rot in idleness while their rightful lands are taken?"

  Kong Rong exhaled through his nose. "And what kind of ruler sends his people to slaughter without a plan? Tell me, Master Zhao, have you considered how they will fight? Where will they get weapons, armor, supplies? Who will command them? You ask for an army, but you offer nothing to make them one."

  Zhao Feng waved his hand dismissively. "That is the governor’s responsibility. I bring the problem, it is up to you to find the solution."

  Lu Zhi's eyes flashed with disdain. "You do not want a solution. You want someone else to clean up a mess that does not affect you."

  Zhao Feng's expression darkened, but before he could retort, a movement near the doorway caught Aide Chen’s attention. He turned, spotting Zhao Ming just outside.

  He was about to gesture for him to wait when Zhao Feng’s gaze followed his and landed on Zhao Ming. His eyes darkened further, taking on an accusatory glint.

  "There!" Zhao Feng pointed, his voice sharp. "That man is the one moving refugees as he pleases! He’s a rebel, gathering peasants to build his own private force!"

  Kong Rong let out a weary sigh and turned to Zhao Feng. "Master Zhao, you are mistaken. Zhao Ming does not act of his own accord—his efforts have been approved by my office."

  Zhao Feng’s face twitched in irritation, but Kong Rong continued. "He has taken on the responsibility of settling refugees in Eastern Hill, providing them shelter and stability at a time when they have none. These people would have suffered far worse had we left them to their fate."

  Lu Zhi, standing beside the governor, nodded in agreement. "Zhao Ming’s work is commendable. He is not merely giving them a place to stay—he is ensuring they can survive on their own. His actions benefit Beihai as a whole."

  Zhao Ming clasped his hands and bowed slightly. "I only do what I can, under your guidance, Governor Kong, and with the support of those willing to help. The people merely seek to live—if I can aid them in doing so, it is the least I can offer."

  Zhao Feng’s expression darkened as he clenched his fists. "Hah! And you think I have done nothing? You sing praises for a mere peasant when I, a noble, have contributed as well!" He straightened his robe with a huff. "My actions serve a noble cause! Unlike him, I understand the importance of maintaining order and ensuring the well-being of the true ruling class!"

  Lu Zhi raised a brow. "And what, exactly, have you done for the people?"

  Zhao Feng sneered. "I have funded efforts to reclaim Langya! I have supported the noble families who have lost their estates. Do you think the aristocracy can thrive without our intervention? It is our duty to protect civilization itself!"

  Before Kong Rong or Lu Zhi could respond, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. A militia captain burst into the room, his face tight with urgency.

  "Governor, General Lu!" the captain saluted, his voice tense. "Urgent news from Eastern Hill—noble guards have stormed the settlement! They are looting supplies from the refugees and using force against them. Women are being taken—kidnapped for their entertainment!"

  The room fell into a heavy silence for a moment.

  Then Zhao Feng let out a short laugh. "Ah, so it has begun. Good. It is only right that they contribute to noble affairs—those women will be put to good use." His lips curled into a smirk. "The lowborn should be honored to serve. In fact, I will personally see to it that they are given a proper purpose."

  A loud crack rang through the chamber as Lu Zhi’s palm struck Zhao Feng’s cheek. The force sent the noble staggering back, his expression a mix of shock and rage.

  "You disgrace your name," Lu Zhi’s voice was laced with fury, his piercing gaze locked onto Zhao Feng. "You speak of honor, yet all I hear is the pathetic whining of a man who sees himself above his people. You believe your status gives you the right to trample on the weak? You are no noble—you are a parasite."

  Zhao Feng held his cheek, eyes burning with humiliation. "You dare strike me?! I am of the royal family!"

  Lu Zhi scoffed and reached into his robes, pulling out a bronze badge engraved with the imperial sigil of the Han. He held it up for all to see.

  "I am Lu Zhi, General of the Han. My duty is to protect the people, not serve the whims of a spoiled noble." His voice was cold as steel. "And I will see justice served."

  He turned to the militia captain. "Take Zhao Feng into custody. He is to be placed under house arrest, and you will ensure he does not leave his residence until further notice. Should he attempt to defy this order, you have my permission to use force."

  The captain saluted. "Understood, General!"

  Zhao Feng’s face contorted with fury. "You can’t do this! I will not be treated like some common criminal!"

  Kong Rong exhaled through his nose, his patience gone. "Zhao Feng, you have overstepped. Accept your punishment with dignity, or do you wish to add more offenses to your name?"

  Zhao Feng gritted his teeth but saw the firm expressions surrounding him. He had no choice but to comply.

  Kong Rong then turned to Lu Zhi. "General Lu, take Zhao Ming with you and head to Eastern Hill. Handle this situation immediately."

  Lu Zhi gave a curt nod. "Understood, Governor. Zhao Ming, come with me—we have no time to waste."

  Zhao Ming clenched his fists, his expression grim. "Yes, General."

  With that, the two swiftly left the governor’s office, moving toward Eastern Hill where chaos awaited them.

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