The Warlord 03

Fang Zhiyi raised his hand and said, "I'd like to ask—anyone here who's suffered at the hands of this scoundrel, raise your hand and let me see."

The crowd stood in stunned silence, glancing around uncertainly.

Fang Zhiyi hadn’t actually expected anyone to step forward. After all, he was the highest authority here, and his word was law. Today, he simply wanted to make a statement.

But to his surprise, an old man in the crowd slowly raised his hand.

"You there, uncle," Fang Zhiyi pointed. "Come forward and speak." The crowd immediately parted to let the old man through.

Trembling, the old man shuffled forward, his clouded eyes briefly settling on Li Shun.

"I'm old. I don’t have many days left," he said, his voice heavy with sorrow. "And I know—you’re the Marshal. In the end, you’ll side with your own. But today, I’m going to expose everything this beast has done! Once I’m done, you can kill me or cut me to pieces—I won’t resist!"

The old man grew agitated, and Fang Zhiyi raised a hand to stop the guards from reacting.

"It was this gang, led by him. They were drunk, claimed my son was blocking their way, and beat him half to death. My wife couldn’t take it—she said she’d take it up with their superiors. But instead of backing down, they struck her too! My son tried to shield his mother, and they beat him to death right there!"

The old man’s voice grew eerily calm. "My wife dragged our son’s body home. She died that same night."

"You warlord dogs! What justice do you even speak of?"

Fang Zhiyi’s expression darkened. He drew his pistol.

The old man knew what was coming. He closed his eyes.

A gunshot rang out.

Confused, the old man opened his eyes—only to see Li Shun’s lifeless body crumpled on the ground.

The crowd erupted into chaos. A group of people surged forward, voices shouting, "Li Shun! Where’s my son, Li Shun?"

When Old Master Li pushed his way to the front and saw the corpse, his eyes bulged in disbelief. He turned to Fang Zhiyi, stammering, "Marshal Fang, you—how could you—how could you—" Before he could finish, he collapsed, unconscious.

Fang Zhiyi frowned. "Drag him away!"

Guards immediately moved to disperse the Li family.

Fang Zhiyi tapped his forehead with the barrel of his pistol. "Old man, let me ask you something. Was this brat there that day?"

Fang Yaozu, who had just watched his father execute Li Shun, now found himself pointed at. Fear seized him, and his entire body trembled.

The old man stared at Li Shun’s corpse, then at Fang Yaozu, before letting out a bitter laugh. "Marshal, your son wasn’t there that day."

Fang Zhiyi frowned. "Speak the truth. He’s my son, but that doesn’t make him any more special. Was he involved?" He leveled the gun at Fang Yaozu.

Zhao Dezhu tensed. He debated whether to intervene—killing one’s own son would make for an ugly rumor.

After a long silence, the old man shook his head. "He truly wasn’t there, Marshal. I—"

Fang Zhiyi studied him. "Two lives were taken from your family. Even if every last one of them died, it wouldn’t be enough to repay that debt. Starting today, if you’re willing, you can move into my residence. I’ll repay you, bit by bit."

The old man stood silently, unmoving.

Fang Zhiyi sighed inwardly. The mess left behind by the original owner of this body was truly a headache to clean up.

With the first person having stepped forward, a glimmer of hope flickered in the eyes of the crowd. Was this Marshal different from the rumors? Had he simply been deceived?

Fang Zhiyi pointed to another man.

This time, several hands shot up. As the victims recounted their grievances, the accused soldier’s face grew paler by the second.

Fang Zhiyi raised his gun again—but someone was faster.

Cao Wenjie fired first, then flashed Fang Zhiyi a grin.

Fang Zhiyi stared at him. A second later, a bullet whizzed past Cao Wenjie’s scalp.

Cao Wenjie froze.

"You’re making decisions for me now? Next time, will you shoot at me?" Fang Zhiyi’s voice was soft, but Cao Wenjie broke out in a cold sweat. He’d only wanted to show initiative—who knew the Marshal would react like this? In the past, he’d always praised his quick thinking.

"I wouldn’t dare!" Cao Wenjie made the right choice—holstering his gun, bowing, and stepping back.

Fang Zhiyi gave him a dark look before pointing at the next man. "This one… I remember him. The nephew of the deputy quartermaster. Anyone here know him?"

The young man had already wet himself. Ever since he’d started running with Li Shun’s gang, he’d lived a life of luxury—never imagining he’d face judgment one day.

Eight men in total—all executed without exception.

This ruthless display not only shocked the surrounding soldiers but also earned cheers from the common folk.

"Everything they stole will be confiscated today. Come to my office to register and reclaim your belongings. Additionally, each of you will receive ten silver dollars. I, Fang Zhiyi, failed to maintain discipline. I apologize to you all."

Applause broke out.

Fang Zhiyi raised a hand for silence, then pointed at Fang Yaozu, who stood petrified.

"What has he done?"

The crowd fell quiet.

"I heard he’s stolen from civilians too, hasn’t he? Maybe even harassed women?"

The old man spoke up again, clasping his hands respectfully. "Marshal, your son is still young. He was just led astray by them. He hasn’t done anything truly heinous—just acted a bit arrogantly. Today, you’ve given us justice. We’re already grateful. This old man dares to plead for leniency—spare the young master, Marshal."

"That’s right!"

"Marshal, those things weren’t worth much anyway. Consider them gifts for the young master."

"Show mercy, Marshal!"

Fang Zhiyi felt a pang of emotion. Maybe they genuinely didn’t believe he’d kill his own son—or maybe they thought Fang Yaozu’s crimes weren’t severe enough. If they knew what Fang Yaozu would do in the original timeline, they’d probably tear him apart with their bare hands.

"Did you hear that?" Fang Zhiyi turned to his foolish son.

Fang Yaozu blinked. "Huh?"

"I asked if you heard them."

A beat later, Fang Yaozu nodded frantically. "I heard! Father! I was wrong! Please spare me!"

"Spare you?" Fang Zhiyi smirked. "Zhao Dezhu!"

"Here!" Zhao Dezhu snapped to attention, still reeling from the Marshal’s uncharacteristic behavior today.

"Take this brat to the barracks. Put him to work—the hardest, dirtiest labor there is. If I hear anyone’s gone easy on him because of who he is, I’ll skin you alive!"

"Yes, sir!" Zhao Dezhu didn’t dare hesitate.

Fang Zhiyi addressed the crowd again. "Anyone who’s been robbed or beaten by this little bastard, come to my residence to register. Stolen goods will be repaid in full. For those who were struck—ten silver dollars each!"

"Uh, Marshal," Zhao Dezhu ventured cautiously.

"What?"

"Calling the young master a ‘little bastard’… isn’t very flattering to you."