Chapter 59: Having the Upper Hand

As Hu Honglue approached, Zhao Huai'an pointed at the brawling, dark-skinned fellow and asked, "Is that man in your unit?"

Hu Honglue looked over from afar and quickly begged for leniency: "Commander, that man's name is Han Qiong, hailing from Bazhong. He used to be a mountain bandit before joining our forces in Western Sichuan. He is savage, fierce, and a formidable fighter."

Zhao Huai'an pondered for a moment and asked, "How formidable?"

Seeing that the commotion over there was growing louder, Hu Honglue wanted to shield his subordinate and explained: "This dark fellow carries the moniker 'Han the Harrier.' During a previous night raid, I saw with my own eyes how he single-handedly cut down three men and broke the enemy formation first. While I cannot say for certain whether he slew over a dozen men, his exploits definitely amount to more than a single head's reward."

After saying this, Hu Honglue cautiously observed Zhao Huai'an. Finding the commander's expression unreadable, he hastily added, "Still, the man is unruly. Suppressing him a bit wouldn't hurt."

Zhao Huai'an snorted: "A brave warrior like that? What the hell is there to suppress?"

With that, Zhao Huai'an strode down into the camp himself. The men hastily cleared a path for him, while the more curious ones followed closely behind, eager to watch the show.

They also wanted to see how their commander intended to resolve this matter.

Not a single martial man in the army despised these quill-driving clerks less. They shed their blood and risked their lives on the front lines, only for their achievements to be casually whittled down by the stroke of a pen with petty deductions here and there—truly hateful.

Of course, whether they actually shed their blood and risked their lives on the front lines was another matter entirely.

Regardless, these scribes deserved to die!

...

When Zhao Huai'an drew near, Han Qiong was being held back by his comrades, so he was no longer throwing punches, but he was still hurling torrents of abuse at the clerk.

Surrounded by this pack of martial brutes, the clerk's face flushed bright red, yet he still stiffened his neck and held his ground.

Upon seeing Zhao Huai'an arrive, Han Qiong changed his tune and began cursing anew: "My brothers have been fighting tooth and nail up front, and what the hell are you to determine our merits? Today, I say I reported thirteen, but your lord here is reporting thirty, three hundred today—you will log every last one for me! If you dare utter a single word of dissent, I'll beat the shit out of you."

The corners of Zhao Huai'an's mouth twitched as he walked expressionlessly between the two men.

He cast his gaze around the circle, looking at the soldiers and officers standing near Han Qiong, and asked softly: "Which of you can corroborate Han Qiong's claims?"

Zhao Huai'an's fierce reputation was well known throughout the army. When they were first recruited from Shuangliu, the troublemakers among them had long since been disciplined by Zhao Huai'an, so truly, very few dared to act insolently in his presence.

Yet this Han Qiong was a newcomer, overly proud of his martial prowess and deeply resentful of being reduced to a common foot soldier, which was why he had stirred up this trouble.

Therefore, at this moment, which of his comrades dared to corroborate his story?

Seeing this situation, Han Qiong grew anxious, turned around, and roared: "What the hell do you mean? Weren't you bastards there when your lord here was killing the enemy? Huh? You mean I did the killing up front while you lot just picked up the severed heads in the back?"

The more Han Qiong cursed, the more agitated he became. He never imagined that the bonds of brotherhood could be so fragile.

However, Zhao Huai'an caught the drift of it. By the sound of it, had Han Qiong really slaughtered over a dozen Nanzhao soldiers?

He glanced at the men who were lowering their heads, then turned his gaze back to the clerk: "Little Xue, how are rewards recorded for such situations in the army?"

This Little Xue, whose full name was Xue Hang, was the son of a private school teacher in Shuangliu. Having lost his entire family when they were plundered by routed soldiers, he was the sole survivor, previously living like a beggar in the shanties south of Shuangliu city. Later, when Zhao Huai'an recruited soldiers in the city, Xue Hang was assigned to Wang Duo's command as a scribe because he could read and write.

Hearing the commander's question, Xue Hang hurriedly replied: "When the number of enemies killed does not match the number of severed heads, corroboration is usually provided by comrades in the army, followed by a personal account of the battle. If there are other captured weapons and armor, those may also be used as proof."

Xue Hang was not completely inflexible either. As the man in charge of recording merits, why would he want to offend these unruly soldiers? Therefore, if someone claimed an extra head or two, as long as comrades helped corroborate it, he would just log it down.

But this Han Qiong had opened his mouth and claimed thirteen. If he kept logging dozens like this, none of the others had counts anywhere near that high. The moment he reported it, his superior Wang Duo would certainly summon him for questioning.

He knew his superior's character all too well; describing him as "resolute, sharp, and possessed of extraordinary tactical wit" was entirely appropriate.

Not a single trick concerning merit-recording or provisions in the army could escape his eyes.

Therefore, Xue Hang simply did not dare to record a reward for thirteen severed heads.

Upon hearing this, Zhao Huai'an turned around and posed the question to the men in the unit once more: "Han Qiong claims he killed thirteen. Who among you disagrees?"

Faced with these two different ways of phrasing the question, the men finally grasped the commander's intent. Once again, they lowered their heads; no one spoke up in opposition.

In truth, there was no need to object. They knew full well that even if Han Qiong hadn't killed thirteen, he must have dropped at least seven or eight. After all, they were all in the same squad—how could they not know what their comrade did on the battlefield?

Seeing how his comrades and fellow soldiers behaved, Han Qiong grunted and said nothing more.

He was no fool; he knew the commander intended to protect him, so he had no wish to stir up trouble at this moment.

Sure enough, seeing that no one came forward to dispute Han Qiong's merit as fraudulent, Zhao Huai'an said to Xue Hang: "Little Xue, now that his comrades have come forward to corroborate it, and his squad leader has just told me about this man's background—he's a fine warrior—just record this military merit as thirteen heads."

With the supreme commander putting it that way, how could Xue Hang not understand what to do?

He cupped his hands, bowed, and acknowledged the order with a loud "Understood."

Just as Han Qiong was curving the corners of his mouth in smug self-satisfaction, he suddenly heard Zhao Huai'an ask him: "Little Han, did you just lay hands on Xue Hang?"

Han Qiong hastily shook his head and explained: "No, Commander. Your subordinate merely gave him a gentle push—no, I just bumped into him."

Zhao Huai'an chuckled derisively and asked: "Oh? Shall I ask someone else to verify? Let's see who can corroborate that for you."

Having just witnessed Zhao Huai'an's ability to manipulate situations at will, Han Qiong no longer dared to offer further explanations and could only lower his head.

Seeing that Han Qiong had lowered his head while maintaining a sullen, defiant look in his eyes, Zhao Huai'an smiled and said: "Very well. You threw the first punch, so normally I would have you flogged ten times. But your squad leader tells me you're quite the fighter!"

Abandoning his submissive guise, Han Qiong raised his head and proudly declared: "You flatter me, Commander. Your subordinate wouldn't dare boast of bravery, but I know how to kill. I earned my place in the ranks precisely with my bare fists."

Zhao Huai'an smiled and ordered everyone to step back, clearing a circle for him and Han Qiong.

Then, he unfastened his large cloak and handed it to Xue Hang, gesturing for him to hold it.

Flattered beyond measure, Xue Hang took the deep red fur cloak in both hands and retreated to the side.

Zhao Huai'an pointed a finger at Han Qiong and said: "Little Han, I won't bully you. As long as you can land a single punch on me, not only will I waive the flogging, but I'll personally reward you with ten strings of cash. But if you fail, not only will you take those lashes, but you won't escape a beating from me either. Do you dare?"

The bandit nature of the Bazhong native flared up within Han Qiong. To be manipulated like this in front of so many people—forget that Zhao Huai'an was merely a commander; even if the Jade Emperor himself were standing before him, he would throw a punch first and talk later.

Without another word, Han Qiong leaped forward and threw a left straight punch at Zhao Huai'an.

The man had clearly trained; an ordinary person would rarely throw a straight punch instinctively, as it required a great deal of practice to master.

Instead, most people instinctively threw wide hooks that looked devastatingly powerful, but unfortunately, when they used them, they were full of openings.

Yet that was as far as it went. The moment Han Qiong threw his straight punch, Zhao Huai'an dropped his center of gravity, slightly ducked his head away from the centerline, and unleashed a powerful right hook of his own, smashing it squarely onto Han Qiong's chin right as the latter's punch was delivered.

To Zhao Huai'an's surprise, after taking that heavy hook, Han Qiong actually managed to remain standing.

That chin was impressively hard—no, Han Qiong's bones were simply that tough!

He was a real man!

However, after taking Zhao Huai'an's punch, Han Qiong was momentarily dazed, his entire body staggering.

Seeing this, Zhao Huai'an showed no mercy whatsoever, following up with a left hook that knocked Han Qiong out cold on the spot.

Witnessing Zhao Huai'an's fierce display, the onlookers collectively drew in a sharp breath. Then they watched as Zhao Huai'an took his cloak back from Xue Hang, draped it over his shoulders once more, and announced to the crowd:

"When this Han Qiong wakes up, give him ten lashes, and then have him report to the elite vanguard unit."

Seeing that everyone was still standing there in a daze, Zhao Huai'an gave a dry cough: "What are you all staring for? Continue distributing the rewards!"

With that, Zhao Huai'an walked away and mounted the command platform once again.

Now, seated upon his folding stool, he looked down upon the assembled soldiers below like a shepherd surveying his flock. In Zhao Huai'an's eyes, these late-Tang military brutes needed to be disciplined precisely this way.

To reiterate: since the army believed in fists, he, old Zhao, would simply be the biggest fist of all.

The effect was remarkably pronounced. No one dared to shout arrogant nonsense like "your lord here" or "beat the shit out of you" from the ranks anymore.

The grand distribution of rewards proceeded smoothly from there.

...

Once all the reports on military merits and rewards were tallied, Wang Duo hurried over, sweat visibly glistening on his forehead.

Seeing that there was no one nearby, Wang Duo whispered urgently to Zhao Huai'an: "My lord, all the merits and rewards have been tallied. After calculation, we are currently in the red by fifteen hundred strings of cash!"

Zhao Huai'an, who had been holding the situation firmly in the palm of his hand, nearly leaped off his folding stool at these words. Only the fact that everyone below could see him allowed him to forcefully restrain himself.

Pulling Wang Duo aside, he frowned and whispered: "Were those thousand strings of cash already distributed? And we're still short fifteen hundred?"

Wang Duo added hastily: "My lord, it's not just the thousand strings of cash. When you add the two thousand strings from our previous business dealings with the Shence Army, the two totals combined mean we are still short fifteen hundred strings!"

Only then did Zhao Huai'an draw in a sharp breath.

Wang Duo then broke down the accounts for him. Actually, the rewards for severed heads weren't too bad; because of the two engagements, the ones doing the actual killing were only the vanguard warriors, while the majority of the men had no real combat yields.

The trouble lay in the fact that Zhao Huai'an had also issued a combat participation bonus to all officers and soldiers—two bolts of silk and one string of cash per man, amounting to two strings of cash in total per person.

There had been eight hundred officers and soldiers participating in the field, and though thirty-four had fallen in battle, the remaining total still came to nearly sixteen hundred strings.

So, as massive as Zhao Huai'an's cache of money had seemed, a single stroke of expenditure like this had wiped it out entirely.

At that moment, Zhao Huai'an felt a pang of regret so bitter he wanted to slap himself across the face. Yet, seeing the beaming, jubilant expressions of the officers and soldiers below, he had to put on a wealthy facade and instead "lecture" Wang Duo:

"Old Wang, you simply lack vision. This is what they call 'wealth scattered will return once more,' and what I am doing is winning the hearts of the people."

Wang Duo repeatedly chimed in with agreement, yet he posed a sharp question to Zhao Huai'an: "My lord, where are we going to find the rest of the reward money?"

Zhao Huai'an kept silent, continually stroking his beard in deep contemplation.