All Heavens Strategy Game

At the Yang family's house in Linjiang County, the charcoal fire was burning brightly.

In the Great Zhou Dynasty, the head of a pavilion was in charge of ten miles of land and the miscellaneous affairs of a thousand households. Although he had little power and was not considered important by the big shots, he was indeed a remarkable person in the eyes of the common people.

Yang Zhengxiong, the pavilion chief, sat in a grand chair wrapped in a half-new gray squirrel fur coat, holding a list that had just been delivered in his hand, his eyes narrowed into slits.

The list contains a detailed record of the food "borrowed" from him by several surrounding villages during these snowstorm days:

"In Shanglin Village, the Lin Niu family borrowed 1.2 shi of grain and mortgaged 2.5 mu of paddy fields..."

"Lin Xiaoqi's family borrowed 1.8 shi of grain and mortgaged 4 mu of hillside land..."

"In Jinquan Village, Jin Dashuan's family borrowed two shi of grain and mortgaged one mu of vegetable garden and one mu of paddy field..."

"Jin Ergou's family borrowed one and a half shi of grain and mortgaged three fen of their homestead..."

Rows and columns, densely packed.

In seven villages, thirty-four households mortgaged their ancestral lands to him in order to survive this once-in-a-century snow disaster.

Yang Zhengxiong tapped the edge of the list lightly with his fingers, and the corners of his mouth involuntarily turned up.

"Seven or eight households in Shanglin Village borrowed grain..."

"Four or five households in Jinquan Village also borrowed grain..."

He muttered to himself, his voice brimming with undisguised smugness: "Heh heh, so much land..."

These peasants were dirt poor; the most valuable thing they owned was their few acres of barren land.

Normally, they value it more than their own lives and would never sell it, even if it meant being beaten to death.

But now that this heavy snow has brought freezing temperatures and food shortages, people have no choice but to hand over the land deeds in order to survive.

We should thank this snow disaster!

Yang Zhengxiong picked up the hot tea beside him, took a sip, and pondered in his mind:

It would be best if the snow fell even heavier and lasted longer.

When spring comes, if those who borrowed grain cannot repay it—he naturally has ways to make them unable to repay—then those fields will rightfully belong to him.

Then you can resell it or rent it to tenants, and you'll make a fortune.

A sure-fire way to make a fortune!

He has been in this position of village head for eleven years.

Eleven years!

Some of those who became village chiefs at the same time as him have been promoted to county magistrates, and some have even been transferred to the prefectural government.

Only he remains stuck in this poor, remote place, barely making any money throughout the year.

Why?

It's all because they don't have the money to bribe officials!

If a superior wants to be promoted, he has to give money to his superior.

If a superior official wants to be promoted, he has to give money to the superior official above him.

All these layers of bureaucracy eventually fall on the shoulders of low-level officials.

If you don't give money, who will promote you?

Yang Zhengxiong was ignorant in the past, only caring about his reputation, and worked for those peasants. In the end, he was covered in dust and could not get promoted!

Now, Yang Zhengxiong has long since figured it out: in this world, becoming an official is all about getting rich, and only by getting rich can one be promoted to a higher position.

As for those peasants... what's wrong with them suffering a little? What's their life worth?

Thinking of the few families in those villages who were still hesitating, reluctant to mortgage their land, and thinking of saving every penny to get through it, Yang Zhengxiong couldn't help but laugh out loud.

省？

With the mountains blocked by heavy snow, where are you going to save money?

Once you're so hungry you see stars, let's see if you'll still be able to save money!

however--

The smile suddenly froze on his face.

Suddenly, the name of a village popped into Yang Zhengxiong's mind:

Sishui Village.

His face instantly turned ashen.

The reason is simple: not a single household in Sishui Village has come to borrow grain so far!

Not a single household! None!

"Su Sanlang... Su Ming..."

Yang Zhengxiong squeezed out the name through gritted teeth, slamming his teacup heavily on the table, splashing tea all over it.

That thirteen-year-old brat!

He personally visited the kid, spoke kindly, and even promised a generous 30/70 split of profits, but the kid actually dared to refuse!

Do you really think you're someone important?

If it weren't for that kid organizing some kind of "disaster relief and mutual aid" in the village, getting those rich households to lend grain to poor households, how could Sishui Village have no one coming to borrow grain?

This kid ruined my plans!

Yang Zhengxiong's expression grew increasingly cold.

He has already sent people to find out.

Su Ming was indeed quite capable; he could draw a three-stone bow, hunt deer and sheep alone, and even encountered a wolf king in the mountains and escaped unscathed.

But so what?

"Heh..." Yang Zhengxiong sneered, a sinister glint in his eyes. "No matter how powerful you are, can you really oppose our Great Zhou?"

"A lackey is a lackey. I can crush you like an ant, without even lifting a finger..."

He stood up and paced around the room a couple of times.

The quota for this year's corvée labor will be released soon.

Building palaces, constructing city walls, dredging waterways... which of these tasks isn't a life-threatening job?

As long as Su Ming's name is included and he is sent to the most difficult and dangerous place, even if that kid has extraordinary abilities, he will still suffer greatly!

If you're unlucky, you might die on the construction site; that's a common occurrence.

As for those short-sighted villagers in Sishui Village...

Yang Zhengxiong's lips curled into a smile.

Next month's grain tax will require us to find a way to get the tax collectors to "pay special attention" to it.

Charge them a few extra percent, or deliberately make things difficult for them, making them pay more "loss fees" or "hardship fees".

His cousin was the head constable of the county government, so doing this kind of thing was very easy for him.

"Hmph, anyone who stands in my way of promotion and wealth will meet a terrible end!"

Yang Zhengxiong slammed his fist heavily on the table.

He's already thirty-five years old. If he doesn't climb higher now, his life will truly be over.

This snow disaster was an opportunity he had been waiting for for many years, and he absolutely could not let a thirteen-year-old brat ruin it!

Just then—

"Master, master!"

The sound of servants' hurried footsteps came from outside the door.

Yang Zhengxiong frowned: "What is it?"

"Someone from Sishui Village...someone from Sishui Village has arrived!"

"Oh?" Yang Zhengxiong raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised, and asked, "Who?"

"His name is Su Wangba, and he says he has something to ask of you, sir."

Su Wangba?

Yang Zhengxiong quickly searched his mind for the name.

I have a vague impression of him; he seemed to be an honest, poor man from Sishui Village with many children, and they lived a very frugal life.

What is he doing here?

"Let him in." Yang Zhengxiong sat back down in his armchair, straightened his clothes, and resumed his condescending expression.

The door was pushed open, and a small, thin figure walked in timidly.

It was Su Wangba.

He was wearing an old cotton-padded coat covered in patches, the cuffs and elbows worn shiny, revealing the blackened cotton wadding inside.

The straw sandals on my feet were covered in mud and snow, and with each step I took, I left a dirty footprint on the clean floor.

He lowered his head, not daring to look at Yang Zhengxiong, his hands nervously twisted together, his knuckles turning white from the force.

"This humble citizen...this humble citizen Su Wangba greets Pavilion Chief Yang." His voice was soft and trembling, almost inaudible.

Yang Zhengxiong leaned back in his chair, looking him up and down with undisguised contempt in his eyes.

"You bastard Su? What are you doing here?"

Su Wangba raised his head, revealing a sallow face caused by long-term malnutrition.

His lips trembled, and his voice was still very soft: "Lord Pavilion Chief...this humble one...this humble one would like to borrow some grain."

"Borrow grain?" Yang Zhengxiong laughed, a playful laugh. "Don't you have that Su Sanlang in your Sishui Village?"

"Wasn't he organizing some kind of relief effort in the village, encouraging you to lend each other grain? What, he won't lend you any?"

Su Wangba's face immediately showed indignation: "Chief, don't mention it! That Su Ming... that kid is a scoundrel!"

"Oh?" Yang Zhengxiong's interest was piqued, and he leaned forward slightly. "How so?"

"I...I was ignorant before and flirted with his mother, Widow Liu." Su Wangba lowered his head, his voice filled with regret and resentment.

"Even though it happened many years ago and I apologized, that kid holds a grudge!"

"Everyone else in the village was able to borrow grain this time, but my family wasn't!"

"What did he say...what did he say? That my family still has stored grain, we don't need to borrow any!"

"We don't have any food left!" Su Wangba's voice suddenly rose, trembling with sobs. "There are six people in my family, and we've been without food for three days!"

"My wife is so hungry she can't get out of bed, and my youngest son has cried until his voice is hoarse! Su Ming did it on purpose! He's just petty and holds a grudge against me!"

As Yang Zhengxiong listened, his eyes gradually brightened.

It turned out to be the case.

Even in the village, not everyone respects Su Ming.

At least this bastard Su hates him to the core.

more importantly--

"Su Ming... has he said anything bad about me in the village?" Yang Zhengxiong asked tentatively.

Su Wangba was stunned for a moment, looking bewildered: "Does the village head have a grudge against Su Ming?"

Judging from his appearance, he didn't seem to be faking it.

Yang Zhengxiong breathed a sigh of relief.

It seems that Su Ming isn't foolish enough to spread the contents of that conversation everywhere.

That's true, it wouldn't do him any good to talk about that, he's still afraid of me!

"No, it was just a casual question." Yang Zhengxiong's smile became more sincere.

He stood up, walked over to Su Wangba, and reached out to help him up: "Get up, the ground is cold."

Su Wangba was flattered and quickly stood up straight, but his waist was still slightly hunched, looking humble.

"How much grain do you want to borrow?" Yang Zhengxiong asked in a friendly manner.

"Would three...three stones be alright?" Su Wangba asked cautiously. "There are nine people in my family, we'll have to wait until spring..."

"Three shi?" Yang Zhengxiong frowned. "Three shi of grain is no small amount. Do you have the land deed as collateral?"

Su Wangba's face turned pale instantly: "The land deed... My family only has four mu of poor land, and it's on a slope, so the harvest is poor..."

"Four mu of sloping land, mortgaged for three shi of grain, is barely enough."

Yang Zhengxiong quickly calculated in his mind: "However, the interest must be according to the rules, two percent, to be repaid after next year's summer harvest. If it cannot be repaid, the land will belong to me, how about that?"

"I...I..." Cold sweat broke out on Su Wangba's forehead.

Yang Zhengxiong looked at his conflicted expression and sneered inwardly.

These peasants are all the same.

They couldn't bear to part with the land, yet they feared starving to death.

In the end, wouldn't they still have to obediently hand over the land?

"No rush, take your time thinking it over." Yang Zhengxiong turned around, preparing to sit back down in his chair. "Once you've thought it through, go to the front and find the clerk to sign the contract..."

His words came to an abrupt end.

Because at the very moment he turned around—

Su Wangba made a move.

This skinny man, who had always kept his head down and acted timidly, suddenly seemed like a different person.

He straightened his back, and the fear in his eyes disappeared, replaced by an almost insane determination.

He suddenly pulled something out of his sleeve with his right hand.

A flash of cold light.

It is a dagger.

A dagger, polished to a high shine, its blade gleaming with a cold light.

Yang Zhengxiong's mind went blank.

He had no idea what was happening.

How could this poor man, who was just moments ago so humble he was practically kneeling on the ground, suddenly pull out a knife?

What is he going to do?

Su Wangba's mind was actually a complete blank.

Scared.

He was terrified.

My heart was pounding wildly in my chest, as if it were about to jump out of my throat.

The hand holding the dagger was trembling violently, and the palm was covered in cold sweat, so slippery that it was almost impossible to hold the handle.

He lived an honest and simple life, never daring to raise his voice even when arguing with someone. When had he ever committed murder?

What's more, the person they're going to kill is just a village head!

Pavilion Chief!

To Su Wangba, that was an extraordinary figure, someone who sat in a high hall and could decide the life or death of peasants like them with a single word.

He should kneel down, kowtow, beg for mercy, and wag his tail like a dog.

That's what he should be doing.

"I'm too scared..."

Su Wangba was screaming inwardly.

but--

Suddenly, the image of a boy flashed through his mind.

Su Sanlang.

That boy, only thirteen years old, could draw a three-stone bow, hunt deer and sheep, and escape unscathed from the jaws of a wolf king.

The villagers all say that he is the hope of Sishui Village.

Such an amazing person...

Su Wangba suddenly remembered what the village chief, Su Dashun, had said in the ancestral hall:

"Sanlang, a thirteen-year-old boy, chose to bear all the pressure and hatred alone."

"He's still young, it's not his place to shoulder this alone! It's not his place for a junior to shelter us from the storm!"

But no matter how powerful Su Sanlang is, isn't he just a junior in front of me, Su Wangba?

When you meet us, won't you still have to call me "Uncle Turtle"?

He, Su Wangba, lived for forty-two years, and for forty-two years he was cowardly, living for forty-two years with his head tucked in like a turtle.

When you're about to die, do you really want a thirteen-year-old to stand in your way?

Is Su Ming capable?

Great!

Many people in the village say he is the reincarnation of the mountain god!

He's even better than Yang Tingzhang!

If he wasn't afraid of Su Ming, why should he be afraid of that damned Yang Tingzhang!

With this comparison, he was no longer afraid of anything!

"It's not your place, a junior, to face Chief Yang..."

Su Wangba's lips moved silently.

"We, the elders, still have to... shelter them from the wind and rain!"

My heart skipped a beat.

All the fear transformed into a fierce determination to die.

He moved.

Instead of lunging forward, it took a sudden step forward, like a silent wild beast.

Yang Zhengxiong finally realized what was happening, his face changed drastically, and he opened his mouth to shout—

But it was too late.

Su Wangba's dagger did not pierce the chest—he had heard from the village elders that there were ribs in the chest, and if he couldn't stab them in, he would be finished.

He stabbed the neck.

The sharp blade pierced Yang Zhengxiong's left neck without any obstruction.

"Pfft—"

A muffled thud.

The warm liquid splashed out, splattering all over Su Wangba's face and body.

Yang Zhengxiong's eyes widened instantly, filled with disbelief and terror.

He tried to scream, but his trachea had been cut, and he could only make a hissing sound, like a broken bellows being pulled.

He staggered backward, instinctively covering his neck with his hands, but blood still gushed out from between his fingers.

Su Wangba didn't stop.

His mind went blank, with only one thought remaining: Kill him, kill him, kill him!

Second knife.

This time, the right side of the neck was stabbed, and blood splattered on the walls, the floor, and the furniture.

Yang Zhengxiong completely lost his strength and fell heavily to the ground, his body convulsing violently.

The third cut.

The fourth cut.

Su Wangba, as if possessed, knelt on Yang Zhengxiong and stabbed him in the neck again and again.

Yang Zhengxiong's convulsions gradually subsided.

He lay on the ground, his eyes still open, staring intently at Su Wangba, his gaze filled with extreme confusion and resentment.

He doesn't understand.

How dare this skinny, honest, and humble peasant, who's as lowly as a dog, do such a thing?

How dare he attack me?

He was a village head, an official, and half a local official!

He is a commoner, a lowly person, an ant!

How dare ants kill an elephant?

On what grounds?

Yang Zhengxiong's eyes remained open until his last breath.

Do not look down.

Su Wangba is still stabbing.

One cut after another.

He only stopped when Yang Zhengxiong's neck was almost severed and his head was tilted to one side at an odd angle.

He was panting heavily, kneeling in the pool of blood, still tightly gripping the dripping dagger in his hand.

His face, hands, and body were covered in blood.

Warm, viscous blood with a strong rusty smell.

The room was deathly silent.

Then--

"Master? Master?"

A servant's questioning voice came from outside the door, followed by footsteps.

The door was pushed open.

Two servants who were guarding outside peeked in. When they saw the scene inside, they froze for a second, then let out a piercing scream:

"Murder—!!!"

"The master has been murdered—!!!"

The scream shattered the tranquility of the courtyard.

More footsteps sounded, and servants, guards, and household servants rushed over.

Su Wangba was pinned to the ground, his dagger was taken away, and his hands were tied behind his back.

He did not resist.

He simply tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling, and suddenly let out a hoarse, hysterical scream:

"Why won't you lend me food?!"

"You lent grain to Shanglin Village and Jinquan Village, why didn't you lend it to me?!"

"I'm starving to death, and you're still not lending me food?! Huh—?!"

His voice was filled with anger, resentment, and despair.

It was as if he really was just a desperate, driven-mad poor man.

But only he knew that at this moment, he was unusually calm.

The matter... was accomplished.

Yang Tingzhang... is dead.

It turns out that officials can also die if they are killed.

I used to hear from the old folks in the village that officials were protected by the God of Literature, making them invulnerable to swords and spears.

Bullshit, all of it is bullshit!

These big shots are nothing special. They're just like pigs and sheep. If they get stabbed, they'll bleed and they'll die too!

Su Wangba, Su Wangba.

You really went all out today, taking down a big shot!

Su Wangba suddenly remembered when his parents named him:

turtle...

His parents named him this in the hope that he would live a long and healthy life like a turtle, and also that he would be like a turtle, shrinking back when faced with trouble, avoiding offending anyone, and living a peaceful and safe life.

Live to be a hundred years old?

he does not know.

But he was indeed like a turtle all his life: cowardly, timid, always shrinking back when faced with trouble, and never daring to utter a word when bullied.

Hey.

I never expected to be so brave when I was about to die.

It's worth it.

I made a profit!

He stared at Yang Zhengxiong's corpse on the ground, his unseeing eyes still glaring at him.

Su Wangba suddenly grinned and laughed.

He laughed so hard that tears streamed down his face, mingling with the blood on his face and forming two red tear tracks.

He shouted with all his might in his heart:

"I, Su Wangba—have lived a worthwhile life—!!!"

Worth it.

She sacrificed her worthless life to ensure the safety of the entire village.

He used his death to give his family a chance to live.

Worth it.

It was totally worth it.

Su Wangba was dragged out by the servants.

He didn't struggle; he just tilted his head back, looking at the gray sky and the falling snowflakes.

Inside the ancestral hall, the promises of the village chief and clan elders echoed in his ears:

"The village will give your family a large subsidy, enough for your wife, children, and elderly parents to eat and drink for three years."

"Your family will be taken care of by the entire village."

"Your name will be engraved on the merit stele in the ancestral hall and will be offered incense by future generations."

"When Sanlang becomes successful in the future, he will treat this family as his own and take care of them for the rest of his life..."

enough.

This is enough.

He, Su Wangba, lived for forty-two years and never brought a single good day to his family.

Finally, I did something decent.

Snowflakes fell on his face, icy cold.

But his heart was burning with passion.

The courtyard was in complete chaos.

Cries, shouts, curses, and running sounds filled the air.

But all of this has nothing to do with Su Wangba anymore.

He will face severe torture, public execution, and death.

He knew he had committed murder and was likely doomed. He thought he would be afraid, but surprisingly, he felt unusually calm.

Because he knew that in Sishui Village, in the small mountain village where he had lived for forty-two years, someone would remember him.

I remember a man named Su Wangba who did something earth-shattering when he was forty-two years old.

I remember he was once cowardly and timid, but in the end—he was courageous and brave.

This is enough.

The snow was falling heavier and heavier.

The world was a vast expanse of white, as if to cover up all the filth, bloodshed, and sin.

But some things cannot be covered by snow.

For example, the glimmer of light that bursts forth from a humble peasant who has lived a humble life in the final moments of his life.

That glimmer of light was very faint.

But perhaps... enough to illuminate the future of a village.