Honest Official 07

With just a bit of money, Fang Zhiyi secured insiders within Panlong Stronghold. He didn’t need them to hold high-ranking positions—to ensure they wouldn’t take the money and slack off, he also informed them that there were multiple informants, none of whom knew each other, and every piece of intelligence would be cross-verified.

Soon, he had a firm grasp of Panlong Stronghold’s inner workings.

Next, he decided to use Xue Qi’s own methods against him. Borrowing Master Zhou’s men—the very resources Panlong Stronghold coveted—Fang Zhiyi now commanded them.

First, he sent assassins to infiltrate, framing others for the killings. Then, he exploited the discord among the peripheral factions, using wealth to stoke rivalries. With a little prodding from his embedded informants, clashes erupted, and when lives were lost, the informants advised the minor leaders to flee and seek redemption by surrendering to the authorities.

Fang Zhiyi examined the defensive layout of Panlong Stronghold presented by one such defector, tapping the map thoughtfully.

"Bandits will always be bandits. The emperor is truly incompetent, allowing a gang of outlaws to grow so powerful."

Wang Jia broke into a cold sweat—such words were treasonous! His grip tightened on his blade as he eyed the Daoist standing silently across from them, ready to strike if the man showed even a hint of disapproval.

Noticing this, Fang Zhiyi smiled. Wang Jia was indeed loyal. Turning to the Daoist, he asked, "Master Xuanyuan, what are your thoughts?"

Master Xuanyuan opened his eyes slightly, first glancing at Wang Jia and then at the white-knuckled hand clutching the sword hilt. "Brother Wang Jia, you’re too tense."

He turned back to Fang Zhiyi. "Since you first sought me out to share your plans, I’ve been curious about the ‘peaceful utopia’ you envision. Now, it seems Panlong Stronghold is doomed to self-destruct. As for imperial authority... I am but a man of the Dao. It is not my place to comment."

Fang Zhiyi chuckled. Master Xuanyuan was truly skilled—no wonder he had sided with Panlong Stronghold in the original timeline. Fortunately, Fang Zhiyi had found him first. Without him, the stronghold’s future was precarious.

Had the man ever harmed innocent civilians, Fang Zhiyi would have sent him to the afterlife that very day.

Exhaling deeply, Fang Zhiyi ordered, "Notify all units—operations begin tomorrow."

Wang Jia clasped his fists in acknowledgment but froze when Fang Zhiyi added, "Oh, and don’t forget to bring the money you lost betting." Swearing internally, Wang Jia trudged off, cursing his own stupidity for wagering on whether the bandits would defect.

Master Xuanyuan observed Fang Zhiyi as he pored over the map, outwardly calm but inwardly stunned. For some reason, he couldn’t divine Fang Zhiyi’s fate—it was as if the heavens themselves obscured it, as though... he didn’t belong to this mortal realm.

But it didn’t matter. Even immortals knew when to bow to circumstance. Choosing between Panlong Stronghold and Fang Zhiyi was no dilemma for a rational man.

Meanwhile, in a remote mountain inn, a group of merchants stopped to rest, ordering meat and wine. After a few bites, they slumped unconscious over the table.

The innkeeper emerged, a boning knife in hand, his kindly face twisting into a snarl. "Drag them to the back and butcher them. We’re running low on meat filling."

The waiter obeyed, grumbling as he hauled a body, "Boss, I’ve heard things aren’t going well up at the stronghold. The men are disgruntled."

The innkeeper sighed. "That’s none of our concern. Big Brother will handle it."

The waiter muttered, "Merchant caravans these days travel in groups with armed escorts. Easy pickings are scarce, and yet the stronghold still takes the lion’s share of what little we scrounge up. It’s just..."

"Enough!" the innkeeper snapped, though he shared the frustration. For months now, previously scattered caravans had consolidated, guarded by fully armored soldiers, leaving them with dwindling profits.

Unbeknownst to him, this was Fang Zhiyi’s "Military Escort" policy—redirecting the bribes merchants once paid bandits to the military instead. Caravans now traveled under protection, with the newly established Qingping Bank guaranteeing compensation for any losses. Of course, the bank would then reclaim the funds from the local government, which in turn held the military accountable. The system created a seamless cycle: soldiers guarded diligently, merchants traveled worry-free, and some even purchased "membership cards."

Lost in thought, the innkeeper noticed the waiter standing motionless.

"Stop slacking! Hurry up!" he barked, irritated. The boy had been mouthy lately—if not for his skill with a blade, he’d have been butchered too.

But the waiter didn’t move.

Alarm bells rang in the innkeeper’s head—as one of Panlong Stronghold’s footholds, he was always on high alert.

"Men!" Several burly, bare-chested thugs rushed from the kitchen, knives at the ready.

The waiter crumpled to the floor. The "unconscious" merchants sat up.

"You—!" the innkeeper gasped.

One of the merchants flicked his tongue, producing a strange little contraption. He blew into it, emitting a birdlike trill.

"Kill them!" the innkeeper ordered, bracing for close combat—he could handle three or four men barehanded.

Matching bird calls echoed outside. Several "merchants" bolted, hands over their heads, leaving the inn’s enforcers bewildered.

"No—!" The innkeeper realized too late.

Dozens of arrows rained inside. He deflected some with his knife, diving behind the bar, but his men weren’t so lucky—a single volley left them lifeless on the floor.

Trembling, the innkeeper knew his fate was sealed.

Similar scenes unfolded across the region. Within two days, Panlong Stronghold’s spies and black-market outposts were wiped out.

When news reached the stronghold, their informant in Qingping County rushed back with worse tidings: their captured brethren had been publicly tried, the stronghold’s atrocities exposed. Most damningly, Magistrate Fang Zhiyi had invited neighboring bandit gangs to witness the proceedings—and some actually attended.

Shen Xun penned a "Declaration Against Banditry," detailing Panlong Stronghold’s crimes—massacres under the guise of justice, forced conscription of civilians, and more. His reputation ensured the manifesto spread like wildfire.

"This..." Xiaotian Hu swayed, his men steadying him.

"Brother, don’t panic! This is all Qingping Magistrate Fang Zhiyi’s scheme!" Song Yunfan seethed, though inwardly thrilled. "When he captured me, he subjected me to endless humiliation!" Finally, Fang Zhiyi had given him the perfect pretext for revenge—and by provoking Xiaotian Hu, he’d signed his own death warrant.