Lost big on 20.

After listening to Old Wei’s account, Wei Guangde realized that the land in question was hidden farmland, unregistered with the government. This meant no taxes were due, and aside from giving a small portion to the farmers, all the produce belonged entirely to the family.

However, that was also where the trouble lay—this secret could not be exposed, for the consequences would be severe.

Originally, Wei Guangde should have been pleased to learn there was hidden farmland, but now it had become a source of leverage for others to blackmail them.

From what his father said, the land had been cultivated for many years. If the authorities decided to impose taxes retroactively, the land could be confiscated, and even then, it might not settle matters. There was a real risk of losing official positions, which explained his father’s hesitation.

“Father, if that land were sold at a normal price, how much would it fetch per mu?” Wei Guangde inquired.

“Not less than ten taels. After so many years of cultivation, it’s fertile land with a decent yield,” his father replied.

“More than that. The Jiang family in town once sold a piece for twelve taels per mu,” Wei Wencai chimed in.

Though the Wei family didn’t have good relations with the local gentry, Wei Wencai paid close attention to such matters. Land transactions were significant affairs, and naturally, he was well informed.

Wei Guangde calculated in his mind. If the other party came directly to negotiate, it meant they had confirmed the land was hidden farmland. They must have considerable backing to feel confident enough to press down the price.

He soon realized resistance was futile; they could only accept their fate.

Since the buyer had powerful connections, they were unafraid of the secret being exposed. At worst, the government would confiscate the land, and then they would find a way to redeem it, perhaps by manipulating the price to match that of registered farmland.

Their direct approach hinted at a desire to keep matters quiet—better to avoid involving the authorities and keep the land classified as hidden, thus exempt from taxes.

After all, employing the government was not free and would entail significant expenses.

“Just how large is that land? I recall it being quite vast,” Wei Guangde asked.

He had never been there himself but remembered vaguely from a previous trip with his eldest brother on horseback. The land stretched over a large slope halfway up the mountain, with dryfields on the incline and paddies below.

“Over a hundred mu,” Wei Wencai answered.

Losing at least seven taels per mu meant that for over a hundred mu, they were talking about a loss of more than a thousand taels.

Realizing this, Wei Guangde didn’t want to probe further.

At that moment, Wei Wushi, who had been silent all along, spoke up: “Perhaps I should visit my family home and see what my brother thinks.”

“Tomorrow, you should go back and explain the situation to him. But don’t be forceful—just let him know what’s going on and advise caution on their side as well,” Old Wei said. He felt helpless and saw from his sons’ expressions that they understood the predicament. Even he had no solution.

Fortunately, his official position as a village head and command over a hundred soldiers had prevented the other side from outright seizing the land.

Hidden farmland was unprotected. To put it bluntly, might made right.

Since the buyer was willing to pay, they should be content; at least it wasn’t all for nothing.

“Father, why don’t I send someone to deal with that Taoist priest?” Wei Wencai growled through gritted teeth.

But Old Wei waved his hand, “He’s just a persuader. Killing him won’t help; it would only create enemies.”

Wei Guangde stayed silent, knowing that confronting that Taoist would be pointless.

In Jiangxi, anyone bold enough to target local power brokers was surely formidable.

Though Wei Guangde’s scholarly pursuits had been mediocre, he had read enough reports to understand how the Ming Dynasty ultimately fell—with the emperor hanging himself.

One central reason for the Ming's collapse, as documented, was fiscal ruin; the court ran out of money.

Natural disasters like the Little Ice Age could be managed with funds.

Rebellions in the north and Manchu uprisings could be quelled by hiring mercenaries with money.

Money could solve most problems.

The phrase “money makes the mare go” held true.

One cause of the fiscal collapse was the abundance of hidden farmland.

But the main reason was the literati, who paid no taxes.

These scholars included not only official families but also those who sponsored talented but impoverished students to take the imperial exams, even securing them positions afterward—effectively granting them power.

They wielded this power to monopolize many industries and reap huge profits, all while evading taxes.

Their control extended beyond commerce to land, using various means to acquire and consolidate property.

It seemed the late dynasty’s pattern was the great clans aggressively absorbing land, leaving the common people destitute and breeding rebellion.

Rebellion reshuffled the order, redistributing land, which new regimes would later reconsolidate.

Having a degree was advantageous—exempt from taxes. That was why Old Wei had warned Wei Guangde that without passing the exams, he wouldn’t receive land.

Without a degree, tax burdens could crush a family, forcing them to sell land at a loss.

If you couldn’t preserve the family estate, what inheritance was there to speak of?

Yet now, even their father, an official, was pressured by those with greater power.

Wei Guangde exhaled deeply, trying to ease his frustration.

In hindsight, taking a few hundred taels might not be entirely bad.

Certainly, it was a loss—and a heavy one.

But land in Jiangxi was not like elsewhere.

In the Ming Dynasty, northern lands near the Great Wall were probably worthless; the Tatars could reach the capital, and those fields were little more than pastures for nomads.

Coastal provinces like Fujian were also unstable due to ongoing pirate raids.

Guangdong and Guangxi were unsettled by ethnic minorities’ occasional uprisings.

Only Jiangxi and Huguang provinces boasted truly fertile land, barring major floods.

Wei Guangde guessed that only lands near Beijing and along the Yangtze River commanded higher prices.

The entire family was in low spirits that night. Who could feel good about being forced to sell land at a low price?

Wei Guangde had long lost interest in hunting and barely completed the assignments given by Master Sun, truly lacking the heart for it.