Bright Sword: Starting from the Improved Grenade

"Sir, please, sir, these are the crops we will plant next spring. Without them, what will we eat next year?!"

The shrill and miserable cries for mercy echoed throughout Xingjiazhuang.

Inside Xingjia Village, there was a young man in black clothes, holding a cloth bag in his hand, looking with disdain at the middle-aged man who was holding his legs and begging for mercy.

"Tsk, Xing Lao San, if you can't afford to live, then don't live. Find a rope and hang yourself on the beam. It's all over. Maybe you can be reborn into a good person in your next life."

Qingpi's words made the faces of the villagers in Xingjiazhuang who were watching turn extremely ugly.

If Qingpi hadn't been protected by more than a dozen militiamen with rifles, they would have rushed up and given him a good beating.

As if he knew that the villagers would not dare to take action, Qingpi raised his head arrogantly and said, "What are you looking at? Do you think that if I take Xing Laosan's grain, I will not take yours?"

"Hurry up and go back and prepare. If anyone can't hand over 30 kilograms of food today, I'll make you pay."

"What!!"

As the matter concerned themselves, the villagers, who had managed to remain calm just now, suddenly became excited.

"Wang Gouzi, we have already paid the land tax, capitation tax, miscellaneous taxes, grain tax, and militia donations for the second half of this year. Why do you still want to collect taxes from us?"

"Yes, why?"

"Why?"

Qingpi sneered: "Based on the weapons in my brother's hands and the official uniform I wear, I tell you that you have to pay the grain, whether you want to or not!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the dozen or so militiamen surrounding Qingpi immediately opened the safety of their rifles and aimed their guns at the villagers in front of them.

The scene immediately became quiet. The villagers looked at the dozen or so militiamen in front of them and dared not say anything, but they were unwilling to let it go.

If they had really handed over the 30 kilograms of grain honestly, half of the people in their village would have died this winter, not to mention next year.

"stop."

A low voice interrupted the silent atmosphere, and the crowd parted to let an energetic old man walk over.

Along with the old man, there were several young men holding shotguns. They hid behind the crowd, observing the situation ahead with their heads tilted.

"Wang Gouzi, there must be a reason for paying taxes. You said you would pay taxes, so you pay taxes. Do you think our Xingjiazhuang is easy to bully?"

"Yes, if you say you will pay taxes, then you pay taxes."

"Come up with a name."

The appearance of the old man gave the villagers great courage. They followed him and began to question him.

"Damn it, Old Man Xing, you're not dead yet!"

Qingpi's face was as gloomy as water. He really wanted to order his men to shoot the old man to death. However, when he thought of this guy's prestige in Xingjiazhuang, he had to explain with frustration.

"To tell you the truth, this tax is called the Anti-Japanese Donation. We collect it to fight the Japanese. It's a good thing, don't be ungrateful."

Hearing this, Old Man Xing pondered for a moment. He knew about the Japanese invasion of Shanxi.

But he absolutely couldn't believe that the food would be handed over to them and then sent to the anti-Japanese troops on the front line.

But even if he is so stingy, Wang Gouzi will definitely not let it go.

"We in Xingjiazhuang support the anti-Japanese war, but thirty kilograms of food is too much. How about ten kilograms? If we gather together, we will still have enough."

"Fuck it, you're just sending away beggars! Thirty pounds, not even a pound less!"

Qingpi was furious. He thought that he came here to collect taxes so that they could use them to escape. If he collected too little and they had no way to escape on the road, he would be the one who would suffer.

“It seems like today won’t end well.

Old Man Xing sighed inwardly and silently gestured to the young men holding shotguns behind him.

As I said, without these 30 kilograms of food, people in their village will die this year, let alone next year, so they might as well fight this bastard to death.

As both sides fell silent, the atmosphere at the scene began to become tense.

"Shit, it seems that these untouchables won't behave themselves unless we kill a few people today."

"stop!"

Qingpi narrowed his eyes and was about to order a shooting to kill this annoying old man as a warning to others when a loud shout suddenly came from behind him.

"Who the hell!"

Qingpi turned his head and raised his hands without hesitation the next moment.

"Sir, we are collecting taxes, not bandits."

I saw a group of soldiers in gray uniforms holding rifles, running towards them quickly.

Seeing that they could take aim while running, Qingpi knew that no matter who these soldiers were, he could not afford to offend them.

Soon Zhang Dabiao brought his men in front of the crowd. He first looked at the militiamen who were still holding guns with a covetous look.

"Put it down, put it down, do you want to die?"

Seeing this, Qingpi quickly waved his hand and asked the militiamen to put down their guns. With their fighting ability, they could bully civilians, but it would be a piece of cake for them to deal with professional soldiers.

Only then did the militiamen react and put down their rifles with a wry smile.

"Ah."

Zhang Dabiao nodded with satisfaction: "You can go now."

"Ah this..."

Qingpi hesitated for a moment and looked at the logo on Zhang Dabiao's hat: "This...Eighth Route Army commander, I am here to collect grain on the orders of Commander Yan."

"Asshole, do you want me to say it a second time?"

Zhang Dabiao was not at all intimidated. He really thought he was a fool and was disobeying Commander Yan's orders.

"Oh shit."

Qingpi cursed inwardly: "Just leave."

..................

"Thank you for your help, sir."

After Qingpi led the men away, Old Man Xing walked over and bowed to express his gratitude.

"You are too polite, old man. We are the Eighth Route Army and it is our duty to help the people."

Zhang Dabiao kept Li Yunlong's instructions in mind, raised his hand to help old man Xing up, and his tone was quite friendly.

"Eighth Route Army!"

Old Man Xing suddenly realized: "Is it the army that stands up for the poor?"

"It's true what I've heard today. If nothing else, this officer treats him very well. He doesn't have the arrogance of other officers."

"So you are the Eighth Route Army. How can I help you?"

"hey-hey."

Zhang Dabiao's face was about to break from laughing, and he thought to himself that God was really helping him.

"To be honest with you, fellow villager, I was actually sent here by our team leader to explore the way."

"We received news that the Japanese are about to attack here. Our regiment has been ordered to move here to guard against the Japanese."

"Oh."

After hearing what Zhang Dabiao said, Old Man Xing had an idea. No wonder Wang Gouzi was willing to break off relations with Xingjiazhuang in order to collect 30 kilograms of grain.

After all this time, the Japanese are coming, and they are afraid that they will not be able to receive it in the future.

"I see. But you also know, sir, that although our Xingjiazhuang looks wealthy, we are not rich..."

"Don't worry, folks. We in the Eighth Route Army have discipline. We won't take a single needle or thread from the common people. We will pay for everything we buy."

Zhang Dabiao immediately spoke up to make the promise.

Zhang Dabiao knew exactly what Old Man Xing was thinking. Every time they went to a new place, they would face these problems, and he was pretty good at handling them.

"Okay, okay, then I'm relieved."