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"What?"
Dressed in his splendid embroidered prisoner-of-war attire, Fang Ke stood up abruptly, exclaiming, "You say Lord Yang has worn mourning attire back to the city and has gone to the coffin shop? Are you sure you didn’t recognize the wrong person?"
The junior officer standing below looked around and whispered, "I could mistake anyone, but I could never mistake our lord... I accompanied you to Yuelai Inn before."
Reminded by this, Fang Ke immediately recalled that this fellow had indeed accompanied him to Yuelai Inn and had seen his master without his mask.
Anxiously pacing on the spot, his first thought was about the impact this event would have on the current situation.
Highfalutin words like "current situation" seemed utterly unrelated to the life and death of an unknown old fisherman.
Yet Fang Ke was certain that even Lord Shen, upon learning of this, would immediately consider its implications...
That was one of only two strings tying down a ferocious tiger!
Thinking of Shen Fa, Fang Ke turned around and shouted loudly, "Herald!"
A strong and agile attendant with a wasp waist and simian back quickly stepped in, bowed with fists clasped: "At your service."
Fang Ke snatched a command arrow from the desk and threw it down, "Immediately enter the capital to see Commander Lord Shen, and report to Lord Shen that Yang Erlang, the righteous father of Lord Yang, has passed away... Take two horses and hit the road at once, let the horses rest but not the man, and make sure to report this information to Lord Shen before noon tomorrow!"
"Understood!"
The robust attendant took the order and dashed out of the office building.
After pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back, Fang Ke slapped the desk and bellowed, "Issue my order, all officers of the banner rank and above in the headquarters, except those who are on important cases, are to change immediately into black casual clothes, and follow me to Lord Yang’s ancestral home to mourn!"
The junior officer standing below responded, but he hesitated, lingering below without leaving.
Fang Ke, puzzled, glared at him, "What are you standing around for? Go issue the orders!"
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The junior officer cautiously glanced at him and mustered his courage to say, "Lord Fang, is it only the banner officers and above who may go? Our brothers have also partaken in Lord Yang’s generosity with chickens, ducks, and fishes..."
Fang Ke stared blankly for a few seconds before he realized what he was referring to – the meals that his boss paid out of his own pocket to supplement his subordinates’ rations.
Since Yang Ge had become the chief banner officer of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, half of the "regular money" he received each month ended up as chickens, ducks, and fishes back in the pots of his brothers.
Whether it was initially at the Lu Ting stronghold or later at the Luting Hundred Household Office or the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s Upper Right Division, there wasn’t an officer who could say they never enjoyed Lord Yang’s chicken legs.
Fang Ke, who often freeloaded at Yang Ge’s home, even dared to assert that the food in the headquarters was better than the food in Yang Ge’s home for the most part.
’This might be why the brothers respect and look up to him so much even though he hasn’t officially been reinstated...’ Fang Ke thought.
A sudden flash of understanding surged through Fang Ke’s mind, and he felt a profound sense of admiration for his superior.
Some people are just like that; you can’t become them, and you might not even want to, but that doesn’t stop you from admiring them.
"You all don’t go making trouble for Lord Yang."
Fang Ke sighed softly, "I know you all have good intentions, and surely Lord Yang knows too, but we’ve got at least four or five hundred brothers in the bureau. How can we all go? If we do, wouldn’t it be announcing Lord Yang’s identity to the whole world? With so many enemies, how will he live peacefully in the future?"
The junior officer stubbornly said, "You needn’t worry yourself over this. As long as you don’t forbid the brothers from going, anyone who wants to go can go. If one group can’t go, we’ll split into several groups. If there isn’t enough space for a banquet, the brothers can bring their own pots and pans, chickens, ducks, and fishes. If there isn’t enough room, the brothers can cut through mountains and build roads, construct bridges, and erect housing... We’ve dealt with so many corrupt officials and criminals in Jiangzhe, could a funeral really trouble us?"
"Besides, doesn’t the old saying go, ’It takes three stakes to prop up a fence, and a good man has three helpers’? With such an event in Lord Yang’s family, if only a few of you go, outsiders will think that there’s no one in Lord Yang’s family!"
"Won’t it dishonor Lord Yang?"
"How can we allow it?"
Fang Ke was so amused by his earnest argument that he gave him a thumbs up, "Hu Qiang, you’ve got guts, even daring to talk back to me. Since you want to take charge, I’ll leave this task to you. Do it well, and I’ll promote you to banner officer. Do it poorly, and before Lord Yang flays my skin, I’ll surely skin you first!"
The junior officer, excited, clasped his hands and bowed deeply, "Just watch, I guarantee to handle this matter brilliantly!"
...
The sun was setting, and the river wind was howling.
Yang Ge, dressed in mourning clothes and dragging a weighty red lacquered longevity coffin, walked heavily along the lonely river embankment.
The strength that used to be inexhaustible seemed to have suddenly vanished.
The fisherman’s village that was always within easy reach now felt as distant as the horizon.
He kept pulling the coffin, grinding his teeth and trudging along, but everything around him was becoming more and more unfamiliar...
"Ah, slow down, slow down!"
He stopped to catch his breath, leaning against the coffin, staring blankly at the endless road ahead.
The road he had traveled on.
And now he couldn’t return...
"Can’t stop now, can’t stop now."
He muttered to himself, gripping the cart’s handles to force himself onward.
"Young lad, young lad..."
A chorus of shouts came from behind him.
Yang Ge turned in surprise to see Liu Mang leading a large group of disciples from the Iron Fist Martial Arts School, all clad in training gear, rushing towards him.
With Liu Mang’s towering eight-foot frame at the forefront, surrounded by the group of seventeen or eighteen-year-old disciples, he resembled a mother hen leading a brood of chicks.
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