The Villainous Minister 04

As night fell, several shadowy figures slipped out of the city under the cover of darkness, gradually vanishing into the black expanse.

Two days later, the siege resumed. This time, even Fang Zhiyi took to the battlefield personally. There was no other choice—the rebel forces fought like men possessed, fearless of death. Rumor had it these rebels had evolved from a folk religious sect, fervently believing themselves invulnerable to blades and bullets, and that death would transport them to paradise.

The city walls were nearly overrun at one point, but Fang Zhiyi, leading from the front, rallied his men and reclaimed their defenses.

Inside the capital, the nobility and officials grew increasingly anxious. Some contemplated pledging loyalty to the rebels in secret letters, while others plotted to flee the chaos. But they had all underestimated the Surveillance Bureau—originally established to suppress political rivals—as heads piled higher in the execution grounds of Cai Shi Kou.

When aggrieved aristocrats sought to complain to the emperor, they were told Emperor Shunying was resting in the inner palace and would see no one.

Elderly ministers slapped their thighs, lamenting that the Wei Wu dynasty was doomed—only to be swiftly arrested and thrown into prison.

Covered in blood and grime, Fang Zhiyi listened to Gao Liang’s report and nodded in satisfaction. "You’re far more capable than that Cao Ji."

Gao Liang, staring at the battle-hardened man before him, dropped to his knees in haste. "Thank you for your praise, General! I am but your loyal hound!"

Fang Zhiyi frowned and pulled him up. "A hound? No. I want you to be a hawk, not a dog. Stand straight!" He understood all too well the value of a secret police force in times like these—without it, those treacherous officials would have sold out both him and Emperor Shunying without hesitation.

Gao Liang slowly straightened his posture. Fang Zhiyi’s words echoed in his mind. If before he had acted out of fear, now he was truly awed. This man—General Fang, no, perhaps more than just a general in the future, maybe even... Gao Liang didn’t dare finish the thought.

After half a month under siege, the capital’s civilians had been mobilized in shifts to man the walls, repelling wave after wave of attacks. Even Fang Zhiyi was nearing his limit. Then, on this very night, he finally received a secret missive.

Reading its contents, Fang Zhiyi smiled—a smile that unsettled the other defending officers. Over the past fortnight, they had witnessed his ruthless efficiency in battle, leaving them both awed and fearful.

"Give the order," he declared. "All wounded rebel prisoners who have recovered are to be given travel funds and a pardon—stamped with the emperor’s seal! Then release them."

The room erupted in shock.

Releasing prisoners was one thing, but a pardon? With the emperor’s seal? General, have you lost your mind? How could the emperor ever forgive these rebels?

In truth, Fang Zhiyi had sent a messenger to Emperor Shunying, who had generously handed over the imperial seal without question.

The officers were stunned. They had heard of the emperor’s trust in the general, but this much? Handing over the seal? With that, one could even declare oneself the rightful ruler!

But Fang Zhiyi ignored their astonishment. The situation was urgent, and he had to act.

Over the following days, batches of prisoners were released—some even personally escorted by Fang Zhiyi.

Watching them march back toward the rebel camp, the defending officers sighed. General, isn’t this setting tigers free in the mountains? Healing their wounds, giving them money, just so they can return to fight us again?

Rumors spread like wildfire through the ranks.

Yet Fang Zhiyi offered no explanation. That night, scouts reported chaos in the rebel camp.

"I infiltrated their ranks," a spy reported. "Their so-called 'Heavenly King' tried to behead several prisoners we’d released, but their fellow villagers resisted. A brawl broke out! By the time I left, small groups were already deserting."

Fang Zhiyi grinned. "Officers, heed my command!" The stunned officers reflexively snapped to attention.

"Assemble the troops. We ride out tonight to raid the rebel camp!"

"General! This is madness!"

"General! It’s just a minor skirmish. The rebels outnumber us several times over. Think carefully!"

Fang Zhiyi tossed a letter onto the table. "Read this."

It was a secret report. Two weeks prior, Fang Zhiyi had dispatched envoys to several rebel leaders, offering not only pardons but also land and noble titles. Some had already written back, swearing allegiance to the emperor and pledging to serve as the vanguard against the rebellion.

"But... how?" one officer muttered in confusion.

Fang Zhiyi explained, "Rebellions don’t happen unless officials are cruel and people starve. But if rebelling brings not just pardon but a chance to rise—who would keep risking their lives for an uncertain future?"

His letters had detailed each rebel group’s grievances and their leaders’ ambitions. If you overthrow the emperor, who takes his place? Would your new ruler later execute you as threats? The emperor’s thoughts are unknown, but you know me—Fang Zhiyi. If I pardon you, it stands. The emperor won’t object. I recognize your talents and will elevate you—granting titles and land to help govern this realm. If you keep fighting, how many will die? The court can always retreat south and continue the war. Are you so sure you’ll survive?

To ensure credibility, Fang Zhiyi had even stamped the letters with his personal seal.

The simple-minded rebels took his words to heart. They had risen against tyranny, corruption, and starvation—but now Fang Zhiyi was offering them governance of their own homelands. Thoughts of their families made them waver. And the Heavenly King’s character? His history of seizing wives and daughters proved he was no just ruler.

Rebel factions meant to join the Heavenly King’s forces now camped nearby but kept their distance. Smaller groups had already begun deserting his camp.

The city gates swung open, battle cries piercing the night. Fang Zhiyi assured his men this was no reckless assault—it was a show of force.

True enough, the rebel camp descended into chaos, unable to mount a proper defense.

Fang Zhiyi didn’t charge in. Instead, he reined his horse to a halt before the camp. The Heavenly King, spear in hand, emerged in confusion. What was this?

"Fellow countrymen!" Fang Zhiyi dismounted and bowed deeply to the hastily assembled rebels. "On behalf of the court, I apologize for your suffering."

The armed rebels hesitated, unsure of the court’s intentions.

"Today, I swear this to you all: henceforth, under Wei Wu’s rule, every man shall have food to eat and land to till!" He paused. "I will select capable men among you to govern your own hometowns—free from corrupt officials! And your rebellion? The court will not punish it."

The words struck the illiterate rebels dumb. No punishment? Even official posts?

The Heavenly King, recovering, thrust his spear forward. "Don’t listen to this snake-tongued official’s lies! He’s deceiving you!"