"How dare you!"
Hearing Ian Song's words, Harold York barked harshly, a cruel look flickering across his face as murderous intent flashed in his eyes. "Lord Song, don't push me. You have barely a hundred men, while all of York Manor Fort numbers in the thousands. If I give the order, you'll never leave here alive!"
As soon as he said this, Gavin Grant and Leonard Lewis both turned pale.
"Harold York, are you really thinking of rebelling?" Gavin Grant shouted.
"If I rebel, it's only because this dog official Song forced me!" Harold York snarled viciously.
"Hahaha!"
Suddenly, Ian Song burst out laughing.
"What are you laughing at?"
Ian Song replied, "I'm laughing at you—so full of yourself. A little York Manor Fort dares to rebel? I don't even need to act. My maid alone can crush your whole clan. Cindy Li, earn your merit—take down these traitors!"
"Yes, sir!"
As soon as the words fell, Cindy Li—dressed as a male attendant—stepped forward straight toward Harold York.
"Outrageous!"
Victor Chee, the clan's martial instructor, shouted coldly and flashed forward to block Cindy Li, suddenly whipping out a pair of iron staves and hurling them at her.
"Foolish. A mere Martial Master dares attack me? Die!"
With a light cry, Cindy Li's pale hand suddenly pressed against Victor Chee's chest. Instantly, his eyes bulged, blood gushed from his mouth and nose, and he collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
Cindy Li then reached out and grabbed Harold York by the neck, flinging him backward to land at Gavin Grant and Leonard Lewis's feet. The two instantly drew their waist knives and held them to Harold's throat.
At the same time, Cindy Li turned into a blur and charged into the York clan's private troops.
A barrage of thuds rang out—within less than a minute, Cindy Li had knocked down over two hundred strong private soldiers, leaving them groaning all over the ground.
Witnessing this, all the yamen runners and constables felt an urge to worship Cindy Li, secretly marveling at how formidable Lord Song's maid truly was.
"Head Constable Grant, Chief Runner Lewis—listen up!"
Ian Song said sternly.
The two quickly said, "First tie up these traitors, then take your men and search the York estate!"
At once!
Under their leadership, all of the York clan's private soldiers—including Harold York himself—were tied up.
Two hours later.
The York clan's grain and wealth were all moved to one of the estate's drying grounds.
Gavin Grant reported, "Sir, we've seized 530,000 catties of grain, 120,000 strings of copper cash, 50,000 taels of silver, 3,000 taels of gold, and all sorts of jewelry, jade, furs, and paintings that can't be easily valued!"
Harold York, bound hand and foot, heard Gavin Grant's report and cursed furiously, "Dog official, you'll die a horrible death! Ah!"
With a scream, Harold York's voice abruptly stopped as fresh blood gushed from his mouth—Cindy Li had flicked a stone into his mouth, knocking out his teeth and injuring his mouth.
Ian Song nodded and looked at the yamen runners and constables. "Hand over anything you've hidden on your person—don't make me order a search!"
Hearing Ian Song's words, Gavin Grant and Leonard Lewis both turned pale, then harshly ordered their men to quickly hand over any hidden valuables.
As the saying goes, people die for wealth, birds die for food—most handed over their hidden loot, but a few still clung to hope and refused to give theirs up.
Head Constable Grant, take two men and search those constables and three runners," Ian Song ordered, pointing at two constables and three yamen runners.
The search quickly revealed the problem: the two constables had over ten taels of broken silver and two jade ornaments each, while the three runners—one had over twenty taels of silver, and the other two had several hundred taels' worth of banknotes hidden on them.
The five who were caught all looked mortified, kneeling and begging for mercy.
Ian Song swept a sharp gaze over the five. "I said that if this mission succeeded, I'd not only pay all your back wages but also give two extra months as a reward. Yet you still dared to steal. Fine, everyone has greed, but I gave you a chance and you still tried to hide it. Do you really think my blade isn't sharp?"
Hearing Ian Song's words, the five trembled in fear. "Sir, we won't dare again, we were just too poor at home, that's why we stole—please, give us another chance!"
I've already given you a chance. Someone—strip off their uniforms, confiscate their blades and badges!" Ian Song ordered sternly.
Gavin Grant and Leonard Lewis did not plead for mercy.
They knew the five had brought it on themselves.
Soon, the five's uniforms were stripped off, and all five looked utterly dejected. In the past, they might not have cared about losing their uniforms, but now, with clearly improving prospects and steady monthly wages, it was too late for regrets.
Give each of them ten taels of silver—now get lost!
Ian Song waved his hand again.
For a moment, the five were overwhelmed with gratitude.
The remaining constables and runners were left as silent as cicadas in winter.
Ian Song's voice rang out again: "When we return, each of you will receive ten taels of silver as a reward. All other grain and silver will be sent to the prefectural treasury."
That afternoon.
Ian Song paraded Harold York, hundreds of private soldiers, and dozens of wagons of grain, gold, and jewels back to the prefectural city.
The news quickly spread throughout the city—the York clan was finished.
Less than half an hour after Ian Song returned to the yamen, Bruce Summers hurried over with his advisor.
'Ian, I heard you raided the York estate?' Bruce Summers asked worriedly.
"Sir, this is the grain and silver seized from the York estate," Ian Song said, handing Bruce Summers a ledger.
Bruce Summers looked at it and his eyes widened. "How is there so much?" he couldn't help but exclaim.
The ledger recorded 530,000 catties of grain, and the gold and silver together were worth more than 200,000 taels of silver.
With this batch of grain and silver, not only were the court taxes covered, but the prefecture officials' salaries too. Even though he was the governor, Bruce hadn't received his own wages for months, to the point of nearly selling his paintings.
So, seeing all this wealth, Bruce Summers had no thought of blaming Ian Song, but instead broke into a radiant smile.
"Sir, the officials haven't received their pay for months—shouldn't you gather everyone and distribute the wages?" Ian Song reminded him.
Bruce Summers nodded in agreement, his appreciation for Ian Song growing, since Ian had given him the chance to take the public credit.
'Sir, I have a small suggestion,' Ian Song said.
"Go ahead, Ian," Bruce Summers replied.
"We've owed everyone their wages for so long—why not give two extra months as compensation?"
Excellent idea!
Bruce Summers nodded in agreement, knowing that everyone had been struggling.
Soon after.
The officials, constables, and yamen runners were soon assembled, and Bruce Summers personally presided over the distribution of wages—though Ian Song did not appear.