From the Dragon and Tiger Cavalry to Hunting Sins and Becoming Saints

Chapter 34 Industry Planning

The next day, Fu Que went to the Tiger's Den to submit his errand, and to the astonishment of the registration servants, he was promoted to a trainee Tiger Rider.

The uproar caused by his hunting down of the Green Gang and his smuggling routes eventually subsided after the Li family sacrificed a son in his place and several gambling dens were destroyed.

With the martial arts exam approaching, the chaos and disorder in the outer counties have subsided. At least no more cartloads of corpses have been dragged out of the county for burial, and the existing gangs seem to have tacitly accepted their current sphere of influence.

Suddenly, Gaoyang County, which had been plagued by constant turmoil, fell into an eerie calm.

"I was so stupid, really. I only knew that Prisoner was a tough guy, I never thought he was such a nice guy."

Although the new prison no longer allowed lending money at interest rates, the days of double-crossing were still good. Fu Que basically didn't interfere, and he was very generous. They could keep most of the money they got from the double-crossing.

The ruthlessness allowed these gang members, who could only exploit fishermen, to enjoy a few days of blissful life. Although they couldn't spend their money too ostentatiously because it was money obtained through illicit means, it was still much more comfortable than before.

Two days after returning from Yaoshan, Fu Que issued new orders to his hooligans, led by Han Qian.

Han Qianyuan thought he had more work to do and was about to order his men to stake out the target Fu Que had indicated.

He figured he'd hang around with this prison guard for a while longer, until the guy had accumulated enough experience to go to a big city like the prefectural capital.

With the money he had saved, he might be able to buy a small house in Gaoyang County and make a proper living.

Everyone wants a peaceful life, but it was impossible before. Now, however, we seem to see a glimmer of hope.

However, he never expected that what he was about to do would be completely different from what he had imagined.

Covered in sweat, Han Qian sat astride a bench, blankly complaining.

The frozen fish on the table was still emitting a chill.

One of the gang members scooped up an ice cube and stuffed it into his mouth: "I can understand why he doesn't offer interest, after all, Prisoner is a Tiger Rider, an official, and young, so he has to save face."

But why do we have to do the repairing of the ferry and boats? Is this our job?

Han Qian slumped into a chair and sighed, "According to the prison warden, we're strong and healthy, so since we're taking their protection money, we should help them settle things."

Han Qian slapped his thigh: "We take people's money to solve their problems. Solving problems is something that a single person can do. So why are we doing these odd jobs?"

The gang member crunched the ice cubes loudly, quickly swallowed them, and said with a darting gaze, "In this sweltering heat, how about we...?"

Han Qianyi shrugged: "I'll give you a chance to rephrase your words. The prison implements a system of collective punishment. If you run away, think about the consequences."

If you think you can withstand being surrounded and kicked by the other five brothers, then run.

Originally, Han Qian and his small gang were mainly responsible for collecting tributes from the fishermen along this section of the river. They would create any pretext to squeeze money out of them.

Anyone who dares to disobey will have their fishing nets torn to shreds in the dead of night, night-blooming jaundice appear out of nowhere in the cabin, or even more violently, they will stage an accident while fishing.

In short, they used every underhanded means possible without attracting the attention of the authorities.

The fishermen living along this section of the river hated Han Qian and his group to the core, but they were helpless against them.

But as Fu Que came to power...

The fishermen's impression of them improved slightly.

Because all the jobs Han Qian and the others were asked to do were rejected by Fu Que.

At first, Han Qian and his group were unwilling. After all, they had already established a way to make money, and it would be easy to give up. But to establish it again would require them to set up an intimidating presence and would take extra effort.

But the money Fu Que gave them far exceeded what Han Qian and his group could extract from these poor fishermen.

Moreover, Fu Que was no naive newcomer who had never seen blood, having witnessed the fate of his predecessor, Lao Da.

They followed Fu Que's orders without question and stopped exploiting the fishermen, even collecting only a token amount of protection money.

Near the thatched hut where Han Qian was sitting, the fishing boat of fisherman Liao Chun was moored.

The tattered curtain lay askew, and several earthenware jars were emptied, the stench of rotting dead fish and shrimp filling the air.

Aunt Chun collapsed onto the muddy ground, burying her face in her hands and sobbing.

Liao Chun was pinned to the ground by two gang members dressed in short clothes with fierce looks on their faces. His forehead was bruised and blood was seeping from the corner of his mouth. He watched in despair as several shirtless men were banging and pounding on his fishing boat.

The one who caused all of this was Han Qian, who was sitting under the thatched shed, blankly complaining.

"Stop yelling like that! You couldn't see it before, and you still can't see it now?"

Han Qian wiped the sweat from his brow, draped a towel over his arm, and strode over to Aunt Chun, who was slumped on the ground.

"This is repairing your boat, not chiseling it. If it were chiseling, why would it take this long? In this blazing sun, what do you mean by 'because I'm willing'?"

He paused, then added, "Your son..."

Unfortunately, the woman sitting on the muddy ground could only sob, two obvious tear streaks running down her rough, dark red face.

Han Qian asked several questions, but received no response. Han Qian was so angry that he was about to hit someone on the spot, but the image of Fu Que's half-smiling face as he gave orders by counting on his fingers flashed through his mind. He then slapped the accomplice who was following him across the face instead of slapping him.

After the crisp sound of the slap, the gang member covered his cheek with a resentful expression.

Taking a deep breath, Han Qian beckoned to Liao Chun's gang members, and two burly men brought the fisherman Liao Chun to Han Qian.

"I know I'm less than a pile of dog shit in your eyes, and I don't want to be in your way, but I can't help it. I can't disobey what the prison boss arranged, so please be understanding."

Han Qian patiently said, "Your son works as a shop assistant at Fulai Inn. He knows arithmetic and stuff. What I mean is, don't leave him there. You can't earn much money there all year round, and you have to put up with bad treatment. Come back and work with us."

Liao Chun was being supported, but he didn't say a word.

But he could also tell that these bastards, with sores on their heads and pus oozing from their feet, were genuinely not up to any harm this time; they were truly helping him repair his fishing boat, and the belongings they had taken out of it were neatly placed to the side.

However, it's absolutely unacceptable to let my son join a gang and do that dangerous business. At Fulai Inn, although he will have to endure hardship, his safety is guaranteed.

So he pretended not to hear it.

"I know you're worried about your son joining a gang and ending up dead in an alleyway one day, but honestly, you're overthinking it. People like us can only do menial jobs like cleaning, let alone your son."

We brought your son back so he could help us with the accounts and inventory.

Han Qian said.

Liao Chun remained unmoved, as if he were already dead.

"You son of a bitch..."

Although Han Qian was somewhat educated, after spending so much time in the gang, his tongue had become dry, and the shady things he did were universally hated, so the fishermen's goodwill towards him was absolutely zero.

In a moment of desperation, he slapped his follower across the face again.

Now it's symmetrical.

Under the murderous gaze of his henchmen, Han Qian squatted on the ground, pondering how to organize his thoughts.