"I'll ask you one last time—are you paying the tax or not?!"
The tax officer squinted, clearly out of patience as he glared at the family of three in front of him.
Zhang Shun replied confidently, "Sir, we paid the autumn tax ten days ago!"
The tax officer raised the ledger in his hand and sneered, "Paid? Then why isn't your family's name listed here?"
"Impossible!" Zhang Shun shouted. "I saw you write it with my own eyes! You're just trying to charge us twice!"
"How dare you!" the officer snapped, swinging his whip with a loud crack. It struck Zhang Shun hard, knocking him to the ground.
"Why would I charge just your family twice and not anyone else?!"
Blood immediately streamed from the deep gash across Zhang Shun's face. Gritting his teeth, he tried to argue back, but Aunt Li quickly pulled him behind her and forced a smile.
"Shunzi, be quiet! If the lord says we didn't pay, then we didn't pay."
The boy was young. He didn't understand how terrifying tax officers could be.
There was a saying: "Don't fear the official, fear the one in charge." Tax officers might be low-ranking, but sometimes, they were even scarier than a county magistrate!
"My lord, please wait here. I'll go inside and get the money to make up the difference."
Aunt Li didn't know how they'd offended the tax officer, but her only thought now was to get through this situation.
She hurried back into the house.
Moments later, a despairing scream echoed from inside.
"Heavens!"
"Where's the money—?!"
The entire 13 taels of silver they'd hidden beneath the water jar had vanished without a trace!
Hearing the commotion, Zhang Shun's limping father stumbled inside. When he saw the empty hiding spot, he collapsed on the ground.
"Thieves! We've been robbed!"
The tax officer lost all patience. Without warning, he lashed out and struck the old man twice across the back.
"You trying to mess with me?!"
"My lord!" the old man grimaced in pain. "Our silver was really there! 13 taels, we had 13 taels!"
The tax officer scoffed. "And I say I've got 3,000 taels of gold at home. If you've got no money, admit it and take your punishment!"
"Father—!"
Seeing his father beaten, Zhang Shun rushed forward in a panic, only to be whipped down again. Blood poured from his face.
Lying on the ground, confused and devastated, he had no idea what was happening—until he caught a glimpse of two white-robed figures in the crowd flashing smug smiles at him.
"You... it was you!"
He scrambled to his feet and charged at the two disciples.
"Give me back my silver!"
"Get lost!"
The chubbier one kicked him hard, sending him tumbling again. "Where's your proof?!"
"You're all in this together! The tax officer and you!" Zhang Shun roared, furious beyond words.
"How dare you slander an officer!" the tax official snarled, raising his whip again.
Several more strikes landed viciously, splitting open Zhang Shun's skin.
"Damn peasant!"
"You bite at everyone like a mad dog. Arrest them!"
"Send the old man to Cangzhou to build city walls. The brat goes to Hezhou to dig canals!"
The crowd watched in silence, afraid to make a sound.
Everyone understood what was happening, but no one dared say a word.
Officials and martial artists—no regular villager could afford to offend either.
If the powerful wanted you dead, you died.
Zhang Shun was covered in blood and mud, screaming in despair.
He'd worked day and night fishing, saving for four whole years just to learn a bit of martial arts. All he wanted was a better life. How did it come to this?
Was it because he hadn't worked hard enough?
"Shunzi!"
A loud, steady voice rang out.
Chen Sanshi pushed through the crowd.
He saw those two disciples from the martial hall and immediately pieced together what had happened.
Shunzi had offended them over the gold dye incident, and now they were taking revenge. They bribed the tax officer to double-charge the tax, then stole the family's savings, trying to ruin them completely.
The more Chen Sanshi thought about it, the more a chill ran down his spine.
If Qin Xiong had been willing to spend silver to bribe officials, he might've ended up in the same situation.
He stepped forward. "My lord, may I pay the tax in his place?"
"Shi ge'er?" Zhang Shun's voice trembled with guilt. He couldn't even lift his head.
Earlier, he hadn't stood firm. He should've taken out the silver to help Shi ge'er. Now how could he accept help from him?
Aunt Li and her husband were just as ashamed. They wished they could disappear into the ground.
They weren't the only ones—some villagers watching nearby were clearly surprised too.
"Hmm?" The tax officer's face darkened. "Kid, you sure you want to stick your nose into this?"
"I wouldn't dare meddle in official duties," Chen Sanshi said respectfully.
He pulled the officer aside and pointed discreetly to Zhang Shun's father, speaking in a low voice. "But that cripple won't survive forced labor. He'll die on the road and just waste government food."
The tax officer raised his eyebrows. "So what are you suggesting?"
Chen Sanshi slipped 2 taels of silver into his hand. "My lord, forget about the cripple. As for Zhang Shun—he spoke rudely to you. He deserves hard labor."
This was all he could do.
Clearly, they were targeting Zhang Shun. The father was just caught in the mess.
If Chen Sanshi stood up too forcefully, he'd only drag himself down too. As he spoke, those two martial hall disciples were staring at him from within the crowd, eyes cold and fixed.
Better to save one life than lose both.
Zhang Shun was young. He might actually survive if sent to forced labor.
"Heh… you really know how to handle things." The tax officer chuckled.
He had only taken the bribe to teach Zhang Shun a lesson. The old man didn't matter either way. Now he could earn 2 taels more—why not?
Without changing expression, he pocketed the silver and called out, "Zhang household's tax has been paid. Release the old one. Take the young one—send him to Hezhou!"
The matter was settled.
Everyone present could tell exactly what had happened.
"Little Shitou's got skills. Didn't offend anyone, but still saved Shunzi's father."
"That kid really values loyalty and friendship."
"Shame he stopped studying. If he became an official, he'd be a damn good one."
"Little Shitou, I—Lazy-Head Baldy—have to admit, I'm impressed!"
The villagers whispered among themselves, clearly full of admiration for Chen Sanshi.
"Shunzi." Chen Sanshi walked over to the skinny, dark-skinned boy and gently patted his shoulder. "I did my best."
"Brother!" Zhang Shun dropped to his knees with a thud. "You saved my life once… and now you've saved my father's too. If I make it back alive, I'll pay you back even if I have to become an ox or a horse!"
He kowtowed three times in a row, hard enough that each thump echoed.
"You think this is a stage play? Enough drama—move it!" one of the constables barked, yanking Zhang Shun up and dragging him away.
The tax officer moved on to the next household.
Aunt Li fainted on the spot, wailing as she watched her son being taken. Zhang Shun's father sat on the ground, completely numb.
Scenes like this would keep playing out all day on this final day of autumn tax collection.
In Poyang County, at least one out of every ten adult men would be taken away.
Most were farmers.
After 300 years of land consolidation, over 90% of all land inside and outside Poyang County was now owned by powerful families and martial halls.
Farmers were basically all tenant workers.
Each year, they had to give up half their harvest just to pay rent. The rest went to taxes. By year's end, they barely had enough to eat.
"Spare us, my lord!"
"It's been years of bad harvests. And each mu of land must grow a tenth of that 'spiritual grain'—we can't survive like this!"
"Shut it! Take them!"
The Great Sheng Dynasty had more ways to tax than anyone could count.
The strangest of them all was the so-called "Immortal Tax."
Thirty years ago, in the twenty-first year of the Longqing Emperor's reign, the emperor had a dream. He claimed to see an immortal who gave him seeds—seeds that could grow immortal grass. By planting them and offering the harvest to the immortals, the empire would prosper forever.
So starting from the twenty-second year of Longqing, the emperor issued a decree:
Every farmland in the empire must plant one-tenth of its land with "spiritual grain." Those without land still had to pay a silver tax equivalent.
The problem was, this "spiritual grain" wasn't immortal grass at all. It couldn't be eaten—and worse, it was poisonous. Extremely poisonous.
If a normal person ate it, they'd die that same day.
It wasted precious farmland. For tenant farmers already struggling to survive, life only got harder.
Chen Sanshi stood by the fields. In less than half an hour, he saw at least three or four families have their men taken away—even seventy-year-old elders weren't spared.
Such suffering.
The people were suffering.
Material hardship was one thing. Mental oppression made it worse. Officials and martial hall disciples were all considered "lords." Who would dare provoke them?
Like just now—when Chen Sanshi stepped in to help.
He'd never forget the look those two martial disciples gave him.
It was as if a single wrong word would've condemned him forever.
That feeling… it was unbearable.
Because he was just a commoner, he had to endure oppression and exploitation everywhere, living cautiously every step of the way.
Suddenly, he made a decision.
Old Xu had once said peace was everything.
But in this world, peace was a luxury only the rich could afford.
For the common folk, if they wanted a way out, they had to fight for it.
"Tomorrow—I'm joining the army!"