The only way to keep a patch of land free from weeds is to cultivate crops upon it.

Early summer, 1649.

Tianqiao Street was packed with common folk, all gathered to witness a rare public trial.

On the raised platform, three officials took their seats in turn. Jiang Qingyun sat in the center, flanked by the magistrates of Daxing and Wanping counties.

“Lord Jiang is a promising young talent with an unstoppable future.”

“Lord Shang and Lord Wu, seasoned and devoted to the nation, now share jurisdiction over the southern city with this junior. I look forward to your cooperation.”

“Well said, well said.”

After a round of insincere and hollow official pleasantries, the main event began—the public trial of the underworld leader of the southern city.

At first, the two county magistrates from the capital regarded it as an ordinary trial.

Until Zhao Zesheng, deputy commander of the Southern City Military Office, shouted out:

“Bring the excrement tyrant Shi Erliu and his eleven henchmen to the stage!”

Bound tightly, Shi Erliu looked out at the sea of dark heads below. He found the times truly absurd—officials targeting the foul-smelling dung trade? Was money really that hard to come by these days?

“All residents of the southern city, listen carefully. Anyone wishing to accuse Shi Erliu, come forward now. The yamen will accept complaints and deliver judgment on the spot.”

Whispers spread below, yet no one dared to step forward.

Zhao Zesheng warned, “A reminder: Shi Erliu’s dung guild forcibly collects monthly levies from southern city merchants. Those who refuse payment have dung carts dumped at their shop doors. Many of you have suffered losses—do you not dare seek justice?”

A buzz of murmurs filled the crowd.

Finally, a breakfast vendor could no longer hold back. He pushed past his wife, who tried to stop him from being a troublemaker, and stepped forward.

“My lord, I accuse him. Last May, when I tried to pay less, they flooded my shop with dung water, leaving me without customers for half a month.”

“Me too!”

“I want to accuse him as well!”

A group of small shopkeepers swelled with righteous indignation.

Zhao Zesheng breathed a sigh of relief and kindly said, “Step forward, all of you. We will record each case.”

Once the first brave soul took the plunge, countless others followed. The official hoped-for breakthrough had finally arrived.

According to the Great Qing Code, the Military Office has no authority to pass judgment.

The southern city was divided along its central axis: the east under Daxing County, the west under Wanping County. By jurisdiction, Shi Erliu’s case fell to Daxing County.

Jiang Qingyun said, “Magistrate Wu, by protocol this case is yours to judge.”

Wu Jinyan, magistrate of Daxing County, skimmed through the documents, lifted his wooden gavel, and just as he was about to strike, Jiang Qingyun caught his arm.

“Brother Jiang, what do you mean?”

“Old Wu, don’t rush. Tell me first, how do you intend to sentence him?”

“A public flogging of twenty lashes to serve as a warning.”

“Isn’t that too light?”

“Sigh, twenty lashes will tear skin and flesh. Besides, the dung trade in the Four-Nine City can’t lose this Shi fellow; many places are already reeking.”

Wu Jinyan made to bring down the gavel, but Jiang Qingyun still held his arm firm.

The atmosphere grew instantly awkward.

Jiang Qingyun’s gaze darkened as he stared at Wu Jinyan.

“Magistrate Wu, I suspect Shi Erliu has ties to Weigetang, the one who killed the Eastern City commander that day.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I also suspect Shi Erliu is connected to the smallpox outbreak in the capital. He may have taken bribes from the Yongli Emperor, deliberately poisoning while emptying cesspits door to door!”

“Preposterous.”

“Can you guarantee it’s not true? If you dare guarantee it in writing, then today you may sentence as you please.”

Jiang Qingyun’s tone was fierce. Magistrate Wu immediately caved.

“Then what do you propose?”

“Execute Shi Erliu by beheading! Exile the henchmen to Ningguta.”

“Fine, fine, as you say.”

Once humiliated, a man is vulnerable to further humiliation.

Under Jiang Qingyun’s “strong suggestion,” Wu Jinyan sentenced five men—either to death or prison—as if a puppet on strings.

Zhao Zesheng bellowed with boldness.

“Bring the vegetable tyrant Mi Youhe forward.”

“After investigation, Mi Youhe gathered 23 thugs to violently control the vegetable supply in the southern city. Over three years, they injured or killed seven fellow vegetable vendors. Now, those wronged may seek justice.”

Immediately, thunderous applause erupted as several vegetable sellers stepped forward to testify.

Jiang Qingyun flicked his finger on a freshly inked document. “Magistrate Shang, it’s your turn to dispense justice.”

Shang Zhou, the gray-haired magistrate of Wanping County, spoke kindly, “Commander Jiang, I’ll follow your lead. These unruly folk aren’t worth damaging comradeship over.”

“Senior Shang’s generosity humbles me.”

When Mi Youhe heard he was sentenced to immediate execution, his eyes widened in shock.

“I protest—”

The next moment, a scabbard struck his face, blood splattering. The crowd roared with approval.

The public trial lasted two hours.

The cheers of the populace surged wave after wave. No one in the southern city failed to know or celebrate the arrival of “Justice Jiang.”

All the underworld forces in the southern city were utterly crushed. The few who escaped fled overnight with their belongings. The underworld in the Zhili region fell into fearful silence.

“Sir, outside they say you’re a living Bao Qingtian, standing up for the people and bringing peace to the southern city,” Zhao Zesheng said gleefully.

“Zesheng, sit and have some tea,” Jiang Qingyun smiled. “Tell me, what do you think will happen after the underworld disappears from the southern city?”

“There will be new underworld forces.”

“Exactly. It’s inevitable.”

“Sir, if they emerge, we’ll just cut them down. After all, the knife is in our hands.”

“It’s not that simple. I’m just a lowly commander with limited power. Everything I do depends on momentum. If the winds don’t favor me, even three heads and six arms won’t help.”

Silence fell.

Zhao Zesheng, seasoned in officialdom, knew this to be true.

“Zesheng, what will you do with the dozens of your relatives and villagers who came from your hometown?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I’ll arrange it.”

Zhao Zesheng’s eyes grew wide.

“Zesheng, here’s a saying: the best way to keep land from growing weeds is to plant it full of grain.”

Following Jiang Qingyun’s plan, Zhao Zesheng discreetly arranged livelihoods for thirty-one people from Huang Village and forty-three from Zhao Village in Dingxing County, Baoding Prefecture.

In all the southern city’s trades prone to underworld influence—the coal trade, vegetable trade, foot services, dung trade, transportation, brick and tile work, artisans—Baoding people now appeared.

Baoding folk had one characteristic: loyalty.

They knew their role was nominal managers; they dared not truly act as bosses, paying monthly profits to the authorities.

Through these farmers, order and ideology spread.

All the previous sly operators were dismissed, replaced by honest newcomers.

In no time, the southern city’s social atmosphere was renewed.

A senior from before the transmigration once said: the simplest form of political struggle boils down to two things—eating and meeting.

Jiang Qingyun wholeheartedly agreed.

Thus, the Southern City Military Office often held meetings and shared meals.

Jiang Qingyun would propose unconsulted plans as a form of reconnaissance. If any internal factions felt restless, someone would inevitably rise to reason with him from a rational standpoint.