Chapter 11: The Bandit Stronghold Situation

“Up the mountain!”

After Du Qian managed to control his injuries somewhat, everyone immediately prepared to board the boats, for the Liangshan stronghold was situated on a mountain surrounded by water.

Wang Lun, though having received permission from Ren Yuan and the others, found himself repeatedly refused by the rowers when he appeared at the boat’s edge, who stubbornly refused to ferry him up the mountain. Frustrated, he stomped his feet in anger.

“Give Wang the chief a boat. I said let him pack up and leave, so let him!” Ren Yuan and the others couldn’t help but chuckle upon witnessing the scene, but Ren Yuan still granted Wang Lun a final token of respect.

Only then did the reluctant rowers reluctantly allow Wang Lun on board, rowing away with dark faces.

Ren Yuan and his men naturally boarded a larger vessel, multiple oarsmen rowing briskly straight for the stronghold.

“Brother, you’ve chosen this place well. Even if the government attacks, without a navy, how could they land here?” Yuan Lang grew fonder of the vast eight hundred li water marshes, feeling even more satisfied with his decision to ally with Ren Yuan.

“It’s still early. In a few years, just wait and see — Liangshan will be entirely different from what it is now,” Ren Yuan said, already forming preliminary plans for Liangshan. All that remained was to execute them step by step.

“Brother, what about Wang Lun?” Zhu Fu made a slicing gesture across his neck.

“No worries. He’s insignificant. For the sake of Officer Chai and Brother Du Qian, we give him a way out,” Ren Yuan shook his head, stopping Zhu Fu.

If it were anyone else, Ren Yuan might have considered carefully, but Wang Lun’s petty nature made him unworthy. This man could never accomplish anything of note.

By the time everyone arrived at the gathering hall of the stronghold, Wang Lun had finished packing and was just stepping out, followed by seven or eight men, each carrying a bundle with evidently few belongings.

A chief of a stronghold reduced to such a state was unheard of.

“Wang Lun, you will have no further ties with Liangshan. We shall meet no more,” Ren Yuan said, sending Du Qian to rest before waving Wang Lun off, signaling him to leave immediately.

Wang Lun said no more; fate had sealed his path. What he would do after descending the mountain remained unknown.

Watching Wang Lun and his men disappear along the mountain path, Ren Yuan gave the matter no further thought. If this man dared oppose him again, he would bear the consequences.

“Zhu Gui, Zhu Fu.”

“At your service!”

“You two take some men and tally the current manpower, gold and silver, and weapons inventory of the stronghold.”

“Yes, sir.”

The two brothers exchanged glances and took their orders.

“Song Wan.”

“At your service!”

“You and your men will count the current grain supplies and land holdings.”

“Understood.”

“Yuan Lang.”

“I’m here.”

“Take the mounted peasants and survey the important passes of Liangshan. Reconnoiter the stronghold’s defense works.”

“Rest assured, brother.”

After issuing three commands in a row, Ren Yuan watched his men depart and slowly made his way to the chair at the center of the gathering hall, turning to sit.

Sitting alone in a high place indeed stirs different thoughts.

But Ren Yuan was no Wang Lun! He knew clearly this was only the beginning. The achievement of his goals was still far ahead.

Meanwhile, at the foot of the mountain, Wang Lun and his men had reached the lakeshore. They had begged for a small boat and were struggling to row away.

Wang Lun sat at the bow, watching Liangshan stronghold grow smaller in the distance, his hatred swelling.

“Ren Yuan, just wait! This grudge will not go unavenged!”

“Chief, where are we headed?” The few loyal men who had followed Wang Lun down the mountain now depended solely on his decision.

Wang Lun’s eyes flickered with sudden inspiration.

“Let’s go to Jizhou!”

“Brother, should we arrange a banquet tonight?” Song Wan, having finished counting the grain supplies quickly, asked Ren Yuan immediately upon return.

“Arrange it. Do we have cattle and sheep? Slaughter three to five oxen and about ten sheep. Make sure there’s plenty of meat. For wine, bring out our finest spirit — no holding back.”

Ren Yuan paid careful attention to the banquet preparations. After all, this was the first feast at the stronghold under his command, an excellent opportunity to win hearts.

“The original Liangshan grain is just passable. I did a rough estimate — about a thousand shi. With the grain Officer Chai donated, it’s close to twelve hundred shi total.”

Song Wan was well versed in grain supplies and quickly grasped the details.

“And the livestock?”

“Not many. Over thirty oxen, more than a hundred sheep, and thirty warhorses.”

“That’s so few.”

Ren Yuan frowned. It seemed Wang Lun had truly failed to make good use of the natural advantages of the eight hundred li marsh.

“Brother, that’s not so few. Many small strongholds when first established don’t have nearly that much,” Song Wan smiled. Though his brother was highly skilled in martial arts, he still had much to learn in these matters.

“How many people does the stronghold have currently?”

“The original Liangshan, including women, children, and families, numbered just over four hundred. The soldiers capable of fighting were only about two hundred, so Wang Lun took nearly all available troops when he descended the mountain with over two hundred men. Including our people now, fewer than six hundred remain.”

Six hundred people, assuming each consumes three jin of grain daily — that’s 1,800 jin per day, or nine hundred kilograms.

Currently, the stronghold held 1,200 shi of grain. A shi container designed by Song holds roughly 59 to 60 kilograms. Calculated at 60 kilograms, the stronghold’s grain stock is 72,000 kilograms, enough for about 80 days.

Ren Yuan quickly did the math, feeling the weight of the situation.

“Brother Song Wan, only eighty days’ worth of grain — this isn’t good.”

“Eighty days? What are you talking about?” Song Wan was surprised.

“What do you mean? Six hundred people, three jin per person per day — isn’t that only eighty days?” Ren Yuan wondered if he had miscalculated.

“Brother, poor families don’t consume three jin a day. I calculated one jin and eight liang per person daily, which would last 160 days. Looks like you doubled it yourself,” Song Wan laughed, explaining. His brother intended to provide everyone with better rations, but that was rather extravagant.

“No, Song Wan, you’ve got a good grasp on grain management. From now on, the stronghold’s grain is under your care. You must ensure every person gets three jin of cooked grain daily. If it’s not enough, tell me — I’ll find a way!”

“Most common folks are driven to despair by corrupt officials and bandits, forced to take to the mountains just to find enough to eat. If they still starve here, what’s the point?”

Ren Yuan resolutely opposed rationing. Honestly, three jin of cooked grain per day isn’t much; to eat well, they’d need vegetables, meat, fat, fruits, and so forth, totaling four to five jin daily to be truly well-nourished.

Since he intended to accomplish something different, ensuring sufficient food was the first step.

“Brother… thank you! On behalf of the brothers in the stronghold, I thank you!” Song Wan was deeply moved by Ren Yuan’s attitude.

What do ordinary people want? Simply to eat their fill and stay warm.

But in this world… well, it’s best not to dwell on it.

“Go prepare tonight’s banquet. Once this feast is done, Liangshan will be one family. Also, once Zhu Gui and the others finish their inventory, have them come find me immediately.”

Ren Yuan thought for a moment and decided to have Song Wan prepare the food first. Though he had secured Liangshan with three decisive arrows, winning the entire stronghold’s acceptance would be a long journey.

Everything in the future must start with filling their stomachs…