The Warlord 06

Cao Wenjie returned carrying chests of gold and silver, clutching a stack of property deeds in his hand. Fang Zhiyi glanced at the bloodstains on his face, prompting Cao Wenjie to quickly turn away and wipe them off.

"Zhao Dezhu, summon my entire personal guard battalion."

Fang Zhiyi had recently selected about twenty young soldiers from his ranks to form this personal guard battalion—essentially a mix of assistants and bodyguards.

Once everyone had gathered, Fang Zhiyi addressed them sternly.

"Today, all threats to our peace have been eliminated. The next step is crucial. One misstep, and we face chaos. So listen carefully." His expression was grave. The rapid pace of his actions risked backlash, but he knew that hesitation would only prolong the current state of affairs.

The next day, news of the Li family's confiscation spread throughout the region. Some citizens cheered, while others trembled in fear—after all, the Marshal had been executing people almost daily. Who wouldn’t be afraid?

Yet Fang Zhiyi was determined to prove his intentions through action.

First, he repurposed the former county office, renovating it before inviting Old Scholar Dou and other elderly scholars to establish a free school. Soldiers swiftly relayed this news to every village.

"By the Marshal’s order! Anyone obstructing children’s education will be shot!"

The command was blunt but effective. Everyone knew how many people Fang Zhiyi had executed recently—though they were all deserving, the fear had taken root.

Next, Fang Zhiyi established a judicial department, appointing officials to handle civil disputes. A hastily crafted plaque bearing the word "Justice" was hung high, sparking a glimmer of hope among the onlookers.

Over the following month, he promoted agriculture, commerce, and production, setting up a market regulatory body to crack down on extortion and unfair competition. Fang Zhiyi also invested in mining, cement factories, and textile mills, coaxing contributions from the nervous landlord class who had avoided confiscation—partly to ease their anxieties.

Meanwhile, Cao Wenjie lounged in a grand chair, two armed soldiers standing behind him as several uneasy men stood before him.

"Brother Cao... we haven’t done anything wrong," a bald man said with a forced smile, clearly familiar with Cao Wenjie. "We never touched the Li family."

Cao Wenjie studied them. These men were local thugs and bullies who had bribed him when Fang Zhiyi first took control, sparing themselves from purges. But recent events had terrified them.

"Enough. I’m busy. I didn’t come here to listen to excuses."

The men tensed.

"The Marshal wants to reestablish the Public Security Bureau. You know what that is, right?"

The bald man broke into a sweat. Of course he knew. They had been thick as thieves with the old bureau, sharing in its spoils—until its members were executed or exiled overnight.

"I think you’d be perfect for the job. Get ready to take office." Cao Wenjie stood.

The bald man and his companions were stunned.

"Not happy?"

The bald man’s face lit up. "Happy! Absolutely happy!" This was a dream come true. As long as they didn’t cross the military, who could touch them?

Cao Wenjie gave them a pitying look. "Good. Glad to hear it."

News of the bureau’s revival spread quickly, but the bald man’s joy was short-lived. A new order arrived.

"Shut down all opium dens, gambling halls, and brothels in your jurisdiction."

The bald man and his lackeys exchanged glances. Many of these establishments were their own—or their rivals’. Taking down rivals was one thing, but their own?

The officer delivering the order didn’t waste words. With a gesture, his soldiers raised their rifles.

These gangsters had ties to bandits and were well-armed themselves. Cao Wenjie knew their ruthlessness all too well—which was why he’d chosen them as expendable pawns.

In the end, the bald man and his crew chose the steady paycheck over losing their heads.

No one knew the underworld better than they did. Within a week, Fang Zhiyi’s territory saw a dramatic cleanup. The seized wealth was distributed generously—rewards and expenses flowed freely.

It was simple logic: robbing the poor yielded little, but squeezing these scoundrels made them rich overnight.

Cao Wenjie handled the dirty work flawlessly. Rumors spread in the underworld that the bald man’s crew had betrayed their own to curry favor with Marshal Fang. Now, they were stuck—tainted beyond redemption.

The new finance director paled as he watched the Marshal spend their massive windfall as fast as it came in. His heart bled with every expenditure.

Meanwhile, Fang Zhiyi turned to military reform. With support from Wang Biao and Zhao Dezhu, the restructuring proceeded smoothly. Promising young soldiers were selected to attend Fang Zhiyi’s lectures, where he drilled them in new ideologies, tactics, and training methods.

Rations improved, and medical and logistical support expanded.

Zhao Dezhu had never seen the Marshal so busy—reviewing documents in the morning, inspecting troops at noon, and touring the territory with his guards in the afternoon.

A true workhorse.

But when Fang Zhiyi signed off on a plan to build gravel roads, the finance director arrived, wringing his hands and whining about empty coffers, his face streaked with tears. Fang Zhiyi could only laugh helplessly.

He knew he was spending like water—almost to the point of mortgaging the Marshal’s residence.

"What? Bandit suppression?" Zhao Dezhu was startled by the Marshal’s sudden announcement.

Cao Wenjie stayed silent. He understood—over the past six months, the bald man’s crew had clashed repeatedly with bandits. As mere thugs, they’d suffered heavy losses, even costing the bald man an eye. With bandits growing bolder, public unrest simmered, and neighboring warlords watched hungrily. Internal and external threats loomed.

"The strongest bandits in our territory are the Black Tiger Fort. Their mountain stronghold is easily defended, hard to attack. A frontal assault would be costly," Cao Wenjie said.

Fang Zhiyi raised an eyebrow. "Assault? When did I say anything about an assault?"

"Marshal, what do you mean?" Cao Wenjie paused, already imagining some underhanded scheme.