Feng Qizheng ran his eyes over them, and it was true—the weapons these hill bandits carried were of every shape and kind.

"What are decent common people doing out here playing hill bandit? Are they tired of living?"

Once the authorities took a man, none of that would matter. They would behead him on the spot... and then write up a memorial afterward claiming merit for putting down bandits.

Ning Chen said, "No man with a mouthful of rice in him turns bandit."

"There are only two reasons for it. First, they have truly been left with no way to live."

"Second, they were born no good, idle all day long and looking to get something for nothing... And it's obvious enough. These are the first kind."

Feng Qizheng did not follow. "Why the first kind?"

Ning Chen smiled. "If they were the second kind, they wouldn't keep to rules like that—we don't rob this, we don't rob that."

Feng Qizheng nodded slightly. "That's fair!"

Ning Chen looked at the chief. "Speak up. Where are you from?"

The chief raised his head and looked at Ning Chen, terror in his eyes.

Feng Qizheng bore down with the blade in his hand and said harshly, "Still not talking? Do you want to die?"

The chief shook with fear. "This small man... this small man is from Yangping County."

Ning Chen thought about it. He had studied Xiuzhou's situation before coming. Twelve counties fell under Xiuzhou's authority, and this Yangping County was not far from Qinghe County—less than two hundred li.

"Old Feng, put the blade away for now."

Feng Qizheng looked at the chief and warned him, "You behave yourself, or I'll take your head off with one stroke!"

Only then did he put the blade away.

Ning Chen crouched down and looked at the chief. "Why did you turn bandit?"

The chief's head hung down, and there was anger under his voice. "There was no living to be had. Better to fight for it than sit and wait to die—at least that way a man might come out with his…