Chapter 18: I'll Take the Blame; You Go Be the Commandant!

Inside the general’s command tent, the atmosphere was so heavy it felt as if water could drip from it.

Xu Da did not sit down. With his hands clasped behind his back, he paced back and forth before piles of neatly stacked evidence and ledgers. Each step seemed to press down on everyone’s very hearts.

Fan Tong stood fully armored in the tent like a black iron guardian awaiting judgment. In his mind, he had already cursed the system a thousand times. What kind of situation was this? The work was done, the meals eaten, yet the greatest trouble was only just beginning.

Opening the granary and distributing land for private gain.

Either of these charges alone was enough to warrant the death penalty and the destruction of one’s entire family. As a time traveler, Fan Tong knew little more than a pig about Ming dynasty laws, yet even he understood that the mess he had made was enormous—bigger than the sky itself.

The tent held only the two of them.

After a long silence, Xu Da finally stopped pacing. Without looking at Fan Tong, he picked up a bloodstained ledger and slowly flipped it open.

“…In exchange for the young girl Chunhua, aged seven, never to be redeemed…”

He read the line aloud, his voice utterly devoid of emotion.

“Fan Tong.”

“Yes, your servant,” Fan Tong replied, his heart sinking, forcing himself to answer.

“Do you know your crimes?” Xu Da’s voice was calm, so calm that it was chilling.

“Yes… your servant knows his crimes.” Fan Tong shrank his neck and admitted it plainly. Whether he stuck his neck out or hid it away, it was death either way—better to die quickly than suffer slowly.

“You opened the official granary without permission, appropriated stolen goods, incited rebellion among the people—all grave offenses.” Each word from Xu Da struck Fan Tong’s nerves like a cold, sharp dagger.

Cold sweat trickled down Fan Tong’s temple. He had just arrived from another time and had yet to enjoy life properly, and now he was about to be carved into sashimi?

Yet Xu Da’s next words left him utterly stunned.

“But…” Xu Da snapped the ledger shut with a loud bang. Turning around, his eyes locked onto Fan Tong’s, “you did very well!”

“Huh?” Fan Tong looked up, utterly incredulous.

Xu Da stepped before him, the weathered face showing an expression complex beyond measure—part admiration, part relief, but mostly an unmasked approval.

“These Shanxi merchants are like a festering sore, poisoning the foundations of our great Ming. I have long wanted to move against them but lacked solid proof and feared shaking the army’s morale, causing chaos in the rear.”

He pounded heavily on Fan Tong’s broad shoulder, the force making the flesh tremble.

“You used the dumbest, most direct, and most effective method to rip out this tumor by its roots! And you brought back so much grain, silver, and gold!”

“These things are more valuable than an army of a hundred thousand!” Xu Da pointed at the towering piles of treasure and provisions, his voice tinged with excitement. “With these, Qingyang City can be taken any day! Wang Baobao in the northern desert won’t last long either!”

Fan Tong was bewildered. Rubbing his hands nervously, he asked with a foolish grin, “So… Marshal, about my death sentence…”

“Death sentence?” Xu Da snorted coldly. “What death sentence?”

He strode to the command desk, seized a pen, and began to write swiftly on a blank military order.

“I hereby command you to secretly proceed to Datong Prefecture, investigate the Shanxi merchants’ treason case, and all confiscated property shall be military supplies. To avoid alerting the enemy, act at your discretion, seize opportunities, and execute first, report later!”

Finishing, he slammed the order—sealed with the marshal’s stamp—onto the desk. Looking up at Fan Tong, he spoke each word clearly:

“Read carefully: your opening of the granary was by my secret order! Your killings and confiscations were by my secret order!”

“The grave crimes are not yours, Fan Tong, but mine—Xu Da’s!”

“I will bear this black mark for you!”

Fan Tong stared dumbfounded at the “secret order” that could have a backdated signature.

Is this how top-tier big shots operate?

He loved it! The anxiety and fear that had gripped him vanished in an instant, replaced by an unprecedented sense of security. Having the marshal’s backing felt better than devouring a whole roasted lamb!

“However,” Xu Da’s tone shifted, his gaze sharpening, “you may escape the death penalty, but not lesser crimes.”

“Huh?” Fan Tong’s heart leapt again.

“You’ve got guts bigger than the sky,” Xu Da smiled wickedly, “keeping you in logistics is a waste of talent. Your position as captain of the Fire Head Army is too small.”

He picked up another pre-prepared order.

“Relay my command! Fan Tong, former captain of the Fire Head Army, displayed wisdom and courage repeatedly in the Datong Prefecture campaign against the Shanxi merchants’ treason! Now promoted to the rank of Qianhu (commander of a thousand men) of the Left Vanguard Battalion, rewarded with one thousand taels of silver! His twenty personal guards are to be incorporated into the Vanguard Battalion under his command!”

“Take office immediately, no mistakes allowed!”

Qianhu?

Vanguard Battalion?

Fan Tong’s mind buzzed as if struck by a heavy hammer.

He was just a cook whose greatest dream was to study recipes, now suddenly promoted to the most dangerous unit in the entire army, where the death rate was highest?

This wasn’t a promotion at all—it was a kick from the cozy kitchen straight into a meat grinder!

“Marshal, this… this isn’t suitable, is it?” Fan Tong whined, his plump face bunching up. “I’m just a cook—I can’t even hold a knife properly…”

“Can’t hold a knife?” Xu Da glanced at the massive cleaver leaning against the tent wall, wider than a door panel. “Zhang Liangchen, defender of Qingyang, is a tough nut. Our army suffered heavy casualties in the siege. I hear, Commander Fan, you are best at gnawing hard bones.”

“Go.” Xu Da waved his hand, signaling dismissal. “The brothers in the Vanguard Battalion are all waiting for you to prepare their ‘victory feast’!”

Fan Tong wanted to protest further but was “cordially escorted” out by two personal guards.

Clutching the scorching promotion order, he felt like crying but had no tears to shed.

Damn your sorcery! Victory feast? More like my last supper!

A moment later, Xu Da summoned his trusted general Fu Youde.

“Select sixty percent of the gold and silver, along with all evidence and ledgers, and dispatch them at urgent speed over eight hundred miles to the capital, personally delivering them to the emperor,” Xu Da’s face grew grim, devoid of all smiles, leaving only cold murderous intent.

“The rest of the gold and silver should be distributed as rewards to the troops! Tell the brothers that within three days, I want to see the Ming flag flying atop Qingyang’s walls!”

“Yes, sir!”

Beneath Qingyang’s walls, the roar of battle thundered.

Fan Tong, clad in his brand-new, even heavier and more terrifying “Broken Invader” black armor, stood before the Vanguard Battalion, feeling like a foolish deer roasting on a spit.

His twenty personal guards, also outfitted in new gear, stood silently behind him like twenty grim gods of death, starkly out of place among the battle-hardened veterans around them, their faces numb and stained with blood.

The soldiers of the Vanguard Battalion eyed the new fat commander with suspicion and disdain. A cook commanding these bloodthirsty warriors?

“Boss, these folks don’t look at us right,” Bao Nianfeng whispered, hefting a huge battle axe as he sidled up to Fan Tong. His voice was low and gruff.

Fan Tong ignored the glances and simply looked upward to the towering city walls bristling with spiked battlements, guarded by countless soldiers.

On the walls, a figure clad in Yuan army general’s armor pointed towards them, seemingly shouting curses.

Fan Tong licked his lips and turned to Bao Nianfeng, his tone serious as if pondering a culinary mystery.

“Tell me, do you think Zhang Liangchen would be better braised in soy sauce or served plain to preserve his original flavor?”