CHAPTER 239: CHAPTER 171: HE LIKELY HAS BAD INTENTIONS!

Because of Ah Man, Izumi Hichiji received special treatment; unlike the new Minoh immigrants, who were crammed into tiny boats and shipped to the seaside like sardines, he was allowed to ride in an ox cart, recuperating slowly from his injuries while listening all the way to Ah Man narrate the story of Harano’s rise, and learning about New Wanjin, this newly-emerged place in Owari Province.

Yet even so, after stepping onto the soil of New Wanjin, his first impression remained one of novelty, as if he had arrived in some foreign land overseas.

In his mind, the Wanjin Army’s attire was already different from anyone he had ever seen—it wasn’t like the traditional Japanese kosode hitatare and large hakama, nor the ornate robes of the Ming Country, and not even the weird styles of the Southern Barbarians. The lack of all those complicated, useless decorations—their clothing was overall extremely simple, yet finely made, with distinctive details like buttons at the cuffs, and pockets on the jackets and trousers—some seemingly bizarre, others extremely practical.

The clothes in New Wanjin were odd—maybe this could be explained as the "Oddity’s" personal quirk trickling down from the top, but with the whole street full of strange outfits, all the men having short hair, paired with these stark, sharp-cornered, angular new buildings, at first glance it really felt like he’d run off to another country.

At the very least, as a seasoned old wanderer who had traveled all around the land, Izumi Hichiji was honestly beginning to doubt whether he was still in the Sixty-six Countries of the world.

But Ah Man didn’t care if he found it strange or not—she enthusiastically took him to visit various workshops, showed off the lives of Wanjin’s commoners, as proof she hadn’t been lying: Harano might be odd, but he really knew how to make money, and the construction here was genuinely impressive. Along the way, she was always repeating what she’d picked up from Harano for her old man to hear.

For example, she pointed to a vast undeveloped wasteland to the north (land belonging to the Oya Family), saying that Harano planned to roll out agricultural projects there in the future; the plan was to exempt new immigrants from all land tax for the first three years, then after that implement a "thirty percent lord, seventy percent peasant" tax split, and to permanently exempt them from requisitions for military rations, forced loans for horses, and other harsh minor taxes—and as for feathers, timber, bamboo and the like, they wouldn’t have to provide those either. All farmers had to do was farm in peace.

Izumi Hichiji still hadn’t quite come to his senses after seeing the advanced "handicraft" production in New Wanjin, when Ah Man brought up a new topic, drawing his gaze to the wasteland, whereupon he murmured, "Three to seven split? And nothing but the land tax? If it’s really like that, this is the finest benevolent policy in all the land..."

Ah Man actually objected at first, thinking there was no need to be so soft on the commoners—wasn’t dragging their daughters off day and night already giving them enough face? But now she was determined to show off for her old man, and smugly added, "Three to seven is just temporary! I heard him say he wants to gradually bring it down to one to nine."

In fact, Harano’s original plan was always "one to nine"—a tithe of one out of ten—but he later figured that was too drastic a leap and likely to end in heartache, so he decided to start with a thirty-to-seventy split and gradually lower it to one to nine, then start introducing agricultural subsidies or tax rebates as the situation allowed. This was a long-term policy that would take more than a decade, maybe decades, to realize, and would be adapted at any time to actual circumstances.

"One to nine?" Izumi Hichiji for a moment was speechless—even in a Zong Village, collecting so little tax was unheard of; otherwise, the village couldn’t even organize basic defense. Even militia needed to eat—if you made them bring their own food, most people wouldn’t show up.

"That’s right. He plans to only collect that much." Ah Man recalled Harano’s words and began to mimic him, "He says without industry there’s no strength, without commerce there’s no wealth, without agriculture there’s no stability—and agriculture needs extra attention. Reducing farm taxes will... uh, encourage people to cultivate new land, make them able to expand production, and even let them plant cash crops, boosting the growth of industry and trade in the long term—so for New Wanjin’s future income, it’s a big win."

Izumi Hichiji was a well-traveled veteran, but even he couldn’t quite follow Ah Man’s reasoning—though she herself wasn’t too clear either, she just trusted that Harano had his own plans and wouldn’t lose money on it. After all, Harano had a whole thick development proposal, which she’d seen with her own eyes, though lacked the patience to look closely at it.

She then started suggesting that Izumi Hichiji secretly move his folks from their old home in Koka to set up his Zong Village here. "Harano would never scam you, of all people!" she tempted. "Aqing and I have racked up a bunch of military merits too, but we don’t have any use for them—we’ll just transfer them all to you when you get the village set up. Who knows, you might be able to get the tax rate down to one in nine right from the start."

Izumi Hichiji gave no clear answer; moving an entire village was a huge deal and he couldn’t take it lightly.

Ah Man didn’t mind; she’d done her filial duty, so she just dragged him around town to further prove New Wanjin was indeed a good place to be—that following Harano was a hundred times better than following Saito Dosan.

As they passed a quiet spot, she pointed somewhere and explained, "That’s a public school—a place to learn reading and a trade. When the kids graduate, they can go work in the workshops. It’s only just begun though, so there aren’t many students yet—and they only take kids under ten."

"A school?" Ah Man was overflowing with newfangled words these days, many of which Izumi Hichiji didn’t understand. He went to take a look, realized what was meant by a public school, and asked in surprise, "There’s got to be more than a hundred students here, that’s not a small number. How much does each student have to pay per year?"

To him, New Wanjin really did seem prosperous. People’s clothes were weird but presentable, and the houses were all in good shape—but he hadn’t imagined there’d be that many who could afford to send their kids to school.

"It’s free. They even get a free meal!" Ah Man knew this was a policy Harano had just started on—a way to build wealth for the future and save trouble. "Not enough students yet. He plans, between three and five years, to have ninety percent of kids getting three years of unified education, and a small number go for six years, learning to read, write, and do math well enough to... I forget what it was—there’s some job to fill, anyway, they need a batch of such people."

Izumi Hichiji looked at this public school that, compared to the grand workshops, seemed rather shabby—even the teachers were teenage maids. He was silent for a long while before softly saying, "This is a benevolent policy too..."

"Of course it is! This is first-class benevolence!" Ah Man, looking at her old man, couldn’t help feeling superior. She wiggled her brows, then feigned curiosity and asked, "There’s nothing like this in Minoh, right? The stingy Saito family would never pay for this, would they?"

Izumi Hichiji didn’t answer. There really wasn’t anything like this in Minoh—how could ordinary commoner’s children ever sit in a classroom? They barely had enough to eat—sending them to school instead of out foraging would be unthinkable.

Ah Man, unconcerned with his reaction, continued dragging him around to see the sights. Even walking on the paved roads, she would stamp her foot twice and ask Izumi Hichiji whether Minoh had roads as smooth and tidy as these.

Izumi Hichiji had truly broadened his horizons today and simply let Ah Man lead him where she pleased, but after a while he started feeling like something was off. After thinking a bit, he asked, "New Wanjin... it doesn’t have temples or shrines? Or have they not gotten around to building them yet?"

Not only were there no temples or shrines, he hadn’t even seen a roadside shrine or Buddhist image anywhere. This was very odd.

"We don’t have any of that stuff here," Ah Man said, while waving to a vendor selling grilled dried fish, intending to have her old man try this "Wanjin specialty." Dusted with chūyu and fine salt, this snack had become quite trendy and was cheap too. Offhandedly she added, "According to the ’New Wanjin Interim Public Order Punishment Regulations,’ anyone who builds a private shrine or temple gets hard labor for at least a year, up to five years; if you use public land to build a shrine or Buddhist statue, the fine’s five hundred Wen to five Kan, or three months’ detention."

"How could that be?" Izumi Hichiji was genuinely shocked—he just couldn’t understand it.

Ah Man bought the grilled fish, handed him a skewer, and said casually, "What’s so weird about it? New Wanjin doesn’t support freeloaders. Shrines and temples are useless and just create trouble—we don’t have a place for them here."

"Doesn’t anyone object?" Izumi Hichiji’s gaze swept across the coming and going commoners; he didn’t believe every one of them was a nonbeliever.

Ah Man was now in charge of the Military Police, and New Wanjin’s police department hadn’t yet been established, or split off from the military police. When she heard that, she immediately lowered her brows, a hint of menace creeping into her comic expression. Her hand settled on her sword hilt as she said quietly, "Who would dare? Any fool who objects to an explicit ban can come and see if my sword’s sharp or not!"

"But it’s just shrines and temples..."

"No means no!" On this point, Ah Man and Harano were of one mind: in New Wanjin, you don’t work, you don’t eat, and they weren’t about to start supporting freeloaders.

Izumi Hichiji was speechless for a moment, but didn’t argue further with Ah Man, only staring at this strange city, lost in thought.

This place was already quite different from the Sixty-six Countries of the world. It truly felt like a foreign land—even if the differences weren’t sharply defined yet, it seemed to be gradually splitting off from the rest.

And this divide seemed to be deliberate on the part of the local lord: intentionally refusing to take on household retainers, intentionally reforming local costume, intentionally changing local eating habits, intentionally prohibiting the spread of religion, intentionally unifying education, intentionally reforming all kinds of tradition...

At this rate, maybe in the future, this place would become a whole new country—or even a new people.

Looking at the novel and bizarre New Wanjin, even with just a fleeting glance, Izumi Hichiji felt as if some strange contamination had seeped in: the thought crept into his mind unbidden, and all of a sudden he gripped the hilt of his tachi, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as a shiver ran down his spine.

The lord here, that Nohara Saburo Ieto—he very likely has sinister intentions, plotting something big, with stakes even larger!