Chapter 28: What Is the Second Battalion Commander For?

Yakeshi lounged lazily on the tiger-skin armchair, listless and bored out of his mind.

Kneeling on either side of him were two women in kimonos, gifts brought all the way from his homeland by Turtlefield Ricebucket Taro. That bastard Ricebucket was truly worthless.

He boasted daily about how beautiful the women from his land were—faces so lovely they could drown fish and break the necks of wild geese, beauty to shame the moon and outshine fresh blossoms, gifted in song and dance, and moaning charmingly in bed.

Tempting enough to make a man itch with longing...

But after all the fuss and careful selection, he ended up with these two frightful creatures who could ruin anyone's appetite.

Their faces looked like pig rumps, caked in thick, chalky white powder that flaked with every movement. Their lips were painted a garish red, as if they’d feasted on something unspeakable.

Yet their skill at clinging was unmatched—sticking to him more stubbornly than a medicinal plaster, impossible to peel off.

If only little Yana Li were here—her pretty face never failed to captivate, her graceful figure always a mystery. But alas, she’d been whisked away by that scoundrel Lu Hu, who knows where they’d run off to…

One day, when he caught Lu Hu, he’d skin him, pull out his sinews, and dig out his heart.

A tiger sauntered over, used to being pampered in Old Dawo King’s arms, now trying to curry favor with its new master.

“Damn you, get lost!” Yakeshi kicked the tiger square on the head.

The tiger lowered its head in wounded silence and obediently slunk away.

“So annoying.” Yakeshi shot a glance at the two women.

They pretended not to notice, clinging to his side all the same.

If only he’d known… what was the point?

Yakeshi was all brawn and no brain—skilled with weapons, excellent on horseback, a master with tigers and bears, but put a single written word before him and his head would split with pain. Managing tribal affairs was out of the question.

He was vexed, deeply vexed.

He’d never seen Yana Li or Old Dad exert any effort; a few casual words and all the tribe’s troubles were swept away.

Why was it so much harder for him? Problems piled up endlessly.

Why, in a fit of impulse, had he strangled Old Dad to death?

All because of that little turtle Kameda’s goading—telling him that once his father was gone, he’d help him subdue the tribes, then destroy the Great Sheng, and unite the world.

Promising gold and silver treasures from all corners, beauties for the taking, a new bride every day and a wedding night every night.

And now, when he ordered the tribes to gather troops, their chiefs all protested, making endless excuses, demanding money, food, and armor before they’d even moved. He couldn’t conjure supplies from thin air—he’d have to plunder for them. Bunch of idiots…

Damn, that Ricebucket bastard was swaggering in again.

Kameda Ricebucket Taro walked in, hands tucked in his sleeves, shuffling in wooden clogs with that turtle-like, self-important gait.

He wasn’t even carrying his narrow sword in his tattered sash anymore. These days, his courage had grown, since four attendants with swords at their waists followed him everywhere.

They glared at everyone like little dachshunds on a leash, baring their teeth and guarding their master fiercely, as if they’d lunge at a word.

Though unwilling, Yakeshi forced a smile and stood to greet him.

There was no choice—the little runt controlled the salt. He couldn’t afford to offend him!

“Ban Zai, Kameda here to pay his respects to Ban Zai.” Kameda had given Yakeshi the title “Ban Zai,” claiming it meant “long live” and was even grander than the Great Sheng’s “Your Majesty.”

“Kameda-san, rise!” Lately, under Kameda’s flattery, Yakeshi’s confidence had soared. Though the promised rewards remained unseen, he’d already adopted the regal airs.

“Ban Zai, you don’t seem very happy. We’re about to sweep all before us—soon the world will be united in glory!” Kameda’s beady turtle eyes gleamed.

“Glory, my foot! I can’t even gather an army—how am I supposed to conquer the world?” Yakeshi’s daydreams popped like soap bubbles.

“Don’t worry, Ban Zai. I simply won’t give them salt—they’ll all die off soon enough.” Kameda wasn’t concerned that most chiefs didn’t submit to Yakeshi.

He held the trump card: salt. As soon as their stores ran low, they’d come crawling.

“They all have salt stored. Can you hurry things up so they eat through it faster? Just don’t kill them all—I need soldiers.” Yakeshi’s mind short-circuited again.

“No need to rush. Soon they’ll be begging you.”

“Ban Zai, Ban Zai, Ban Ban Zai, someone from the Dural family seeks an audience,” the guard announced.

Speak of the devil. Yakeshi’s heart leapt with glee at Kameda’s apparent foresight.

Since proclaiming himself Ban Zai, Yakeshi—guided by Kameda—had imposed strict rules and ceremonies on his three thousand personal guards. Everything had to follow protocol.

Anyone who saw him had to chant “Ban Zai, Ban Zai, Ban Ban Zai,” just as subjects of the Great Sheng called out “Long live the Emperor!”

Yakeshi found his title far more interesting than theirs.

Delighted, he said, “Summon them into the palace.”

Even a fart at the main gate could be heard here, yet he insisted on calling this place a “palace.” What a joke.

Lu Hu, though inwardly mocking, managed to keep a straight face as he followed the gate guard inside, head bowed in feigned humility.

He wore deerskin clothes and a fox-fur headband; Yana Li, An Shizhu, Shi Zhenxiang, Feng Cheng, Yan Ban, and the others were all dressed as ordinary hunters.

Weapons were stripped from them— even the short knives tied to their calves had been confiscated.

Yakeshi’s new rule: only castle residents could ride into the gates; all others had to dismount and hand over their horses for management.

At the palace gate, all weapons must be surrendered, and they were frisked before entering.

This was one of Kameda’s clever policies: no one could see the ruler armed; only the obedient would be allowed to enter, and violators would be executed without mercy.

“Ban Zai, Ban Zai, Ban Ban Zai!” The guards in the hall knelt in unison, kowtowing three times and chanting the slogan.

“Rise!” Yakeshi called out in his most imposing voice, then pointed, “Lu Hu, why aren’t you kneeling?”

“Brother-in-law, my dear brother-in-law! Those outsiders aren’t kneeling, so why should family? If people see, it’ll look like we’re strangers. I hear now that Dad’s gone, you’re the head of the house—shouldn’t you start slaughtering sheep and chickens to welcome your sister and brother-in-law?” Lu Hu joked with a lopsided grin.

The guards looked displeased: why should Kameda and his four attendants by the tiger-skin chair stand while everyone else knelt and kowtowed? Didn’t Yakeshi know where his loyalties lay?

“Brother-in-law, what’s this Ban Zai business? Who’s got the guts to stiff you and not pay their debts, even swindle their own father? Do they have any sense at all? Tell Second Battalion Commander to bring out his Italian cannon and blow these turtle bastards away!” Lu Hu deliberately played the fool, spouting lines from war dramas and twisting the meaning of Ban Zai to annoy Kameda.

Yakeshi was bewildered: Is my brother-in-law really on my side? Looks like he wants to help me…

“Who? Who owes me money? Haven’t they paid it back? I don’t remember. And what’s a Second Battalion Commander? What’s an Italian cannon—can it really blow up turtle bastards? Brother-in-law, you have such powerful weapons?”

“You’re just now finding out?” Lu Hu continued to bluff, “Second Battalion’s Italian cannon is powerful, but my own pants-cannon is even more so—thicker, longer, sturdier. I’m embarrassed to show it; if I did, you’d be scared out of your wits. Ask your sister if you don’t believe me.”

“Li, is that true?” Yakeshi, utterly duped, turned to Yana Li for confirmation.

“Bah! You’ve got the nerve to talk to me? Even a bothersome crow knows to repay kindness, a lamb kneels to nurse, but you—did a wolf eat your heart, or did a turtle steal it? You even dared to kill my father!”

Yana Li’s face flushed, brows knitted, eyes flashing with anger as she scolded Yakeshi.

He covered his face in shame.

“Li, don’t be so angry. That old wretch wasn’t your real father—he was mine. Your real father had his tongue cut out by him, who knows where he ended up…” In his panic, Yakeshi let slip a major secret.

Yana Li was thunderstruck. She knew Yakeshi’s intellect; he couldn’t possibly invent such a twisted story if he tried.