Honest Official 08

"Don't panic?" Xiaotian Hu raised his head, his eyes bloodshot.

Song Yunfan froze.

"Ever since you arrived, our stronghold has known no peace! That Taoist was right—you're a cursed star!"

Song Yunfan took two steps back, his face a mask of shock. "Brother, what are you saying? I’ve always upheld righteousness above all else. Why are you treating me like this?"

Xiaotian Hu stared at the man before him. How had he never noticed before how detestable Song Yunfan’s face looked?

"What do we live for in this life? Money and reputation! And now? Our income’s been cut off, our name’s been dragged through the mud! Even the other mountain gangs are laughing at us!"

Xiaotian Hu valued face more than life itself—otherwise, he wouldn’t have died on the battlefield in his past life.

"This is all because of you! Men! Lock this wretch up!"

Song Yunfan staggered back in terror, casting a pleading glance at Xue Qi. But Xue Qi merely turned his head away. He too had realized that ever since rescuing Song Yunfan, nothing had gone right. In times like these, a man had to know when to cut his losses.

Song Yunfan was thrown into confinement.

Xiaotian Hu began rallying his men for a counterattack. He refused to believe that some backwater county like Qingping could stand in the way of his ambitions!

The mobilization meeting was fiery, and the lieutenants responded with enthusiasm—but morale remained low. Whether from infighting, recent failures, or their repeated clashes with Changping Prefecture, their strength was a shadow of what it once was.

Worse still, their spies in the lowlands had all been rooted out, leaving them blind. Xiaotian Hu knew that if this continued, Panlong Stronghold was doomed. So he mustered his forces and set out.

The journey to Qingping County would take at least three days. Two days into the march, a scout arrived with urgent news: the stronghold was under attack by imperial troops!

Xiaotian Hu immediately turned his men around to defend their home—but the moment they arrived, the soldiers retreated.

After regrouping, Xiaotian Hu gave another rousing speech and set out again. Yet once more, halfway there, another messenger came: the stronghold was under siege, and they were needed back at once.

Frustrated, Xiaotian Hu turned back again.

True to form, the imperial troops fled the moment his forces appeared.

Xiaotian Hu cursed in fury, but it was no use. By the time he tried to rally his men for another march, they were exhausted.

Xue Qi pointed out the real problem: with no intelligence network left and their spies eliminated, they were operating blind—while the enemy seemed to know their every move. Before setting out again, they had to weed out the traitors.

A frenzied witch hunt began. Bandits weren’t versed in psychology, and under the influence of certain instigators, the initial policy of reporting suspicious activity devolved into reporting anyone they disliked.

Within days, Panlong Stronghold was executing dozens of "traitors" daily.

Soon, desertions began. Once the first few slipped away, others followed, until it escalated into a full-scale exodus.

Xiaotian Hu’s hair turned white overnight. He couldn’t understand why fate had dealt him such a cruel hand. After much brooding, he blamed it all on Song Yunfan, the cursed star. So Song Yunfan’s treatment reverted to what he’d endured in Qingping’s prison—three beatings a day. But unlike the jailers, these bandits struck to kill.

Miraculously, Song Yunfan survived.

The stronghold remained in turmoil. Rumors spread like wildfire—what had begun as whispers of traitors among the ranks now morphed into claims that the lieutenants themselves had taken bribes from Qingping’s magistrate. The stories grew more elaborate by the day.

Even the once-secure lieutenants grew uneasy. Now, every "sworn brother" seemed like a turncoat who’d sold them out to the enemy.

Fang Zhiyi, orchestrating events from the shadows, easily fed these suspicions. With the tide clearly turning in Qingping’s favor, even the genuine turncoats had no way back and worked harder than ever.

A bizarre dynamic emerged: informants recruited followers, forming factions of a dozen or more bandits who banded together against others. By this point, nearly the entire rank-and-file of Panlong Stronghold were effectively double agents.

Some informants even recognized each other and silently agreed to direct blame upward—toward the lieutenants.

Under new orders, a stash of official silver was "discovered" beneath a lieutenant’s pillow. A weary and enraged Xiaotian Hu confronted his sworn brother, demanding to know why he’d betrayed them. The lieutenant denied it, arguing back—but in front of the gathered crowd, Xiaotian Hu felt his authority crumbling. In a fit of rage, he killed the man on the spot.

Xue Qi knew it was over.

Executing underlings was one thing—but this was a brother bound by oath, a man he’d shared blood and wine with!

Panlong Stronghold’s implosion came swiftly. Lieutenants who had once called each other brother now turned on one another, dredging up grudges old and new—from suspicions of treason to petty slights dating back to their early days in the mountains.

When Fang Zhiyi led his troops up the mountain, he was met with a crowd kneeling in surrender. He paused, bewildered.

Had he really planted this many spies?

Panlong Stronghold fell. Xiaotian Hu and the surviving lieutenants were captured, publicly sentenced, and executed on the spot. This time, no one came to their rescue—though bandits from other strongholds disguised themselves as spectators to watch the show.

To Fang Zhiyi’s surprise, Song Yunfan had vanished—along with the strategist Xue Qi.

Little Hei’s warning echoed in his mind.

Fang Zhiyi rubbed his temples. It seemed the heavens themselves were determined to protect the protagonist’s father. Dealing with a man blessed by fate wouldn’t be easy.

But if he couldn’t touch the chosen one, perhaps he could simply remove everything else in his way.

The Emperor had grown gaunt in recent days, but the memorial praising Fang Zhiyi’s achievements brought a rare smile to his face.

"My dear minister! Your son is a late bloomer indeed! Crushing Panlong Stronghold, commanding thirty thousand troops, achieving such feats in a mere county town—recall him to the capital! I wish to meet this bold young man myself. Hahaha!"

Fang Huatian bowed, beaming. "As Your Majesty commands!"

A month later, Fang Zhiyi arrived in the capital, bearing exotic gifts for the Emperor. Pleased, the Emperor lavished praise on him and proposed his permanent return to court. Fang Zhiyi accepted graciously.

The following night, the Emperor visited a pleasure house. That evening, bandits stormed the capital, shouting vengeance for Panlong Stronghold as they besieged the establishment. Fang Zhiyi led troops to rescue the Emperor—but arrived just too late. The Emperor perished in the chaos.

The capital reeled in shock.

Fang Huatian stared at his son, realization dawning.

"You... you’d dare become a traitor?"

Fang Zhiyi replied calmly, "Father, you became chancellor through flattery. This country needs true talent and a wise ruler."