“Our family is hiding over a thousand households? If the authorities were to find out…” Peter Brooks, having grown up in a law-abiding society and lived as a soldier, had an instinctive fear of the law. Now, after traveling back to the Three Kingdoms period, just as he was about to proudly make his mark, if this concealment of household registration were discovered by the feudal socialist bureaucrats, and they took a dislike to him, using this as an excuse to chop him up, wouldn’t that be the unluckiest fate imaginable?

Unexpectedly, Steward Mason gave a strange smile. Although he kept his voice low, his utterly unconcerned expression made Peter Brooks feel uneasy. Steward Mason just chuckled and said, “What’s the big deal? Not only will the Jiangyang Prefect not care about this, even our Governor won’t bother, heh heh, because just our Governor alone has no less than thirty to fifty thousand hidden households under his control.”

Hearing this, Peter Brooks couldn’t help but gasp. Damn, his own family was just a minor noble clan, yet dared to hide so many people from the registry. That Governor Liu Zhang was even more shameless, hiding thirty to fifty thousand households at once—that’s over a hundred thousand people! Doesn’t that mean nearly half the population of Yizhou was in the hands of these great clans and officials?

No wonder later generations always said there were so few people left in the Three Kingdoms era. Turns out there was this kind of trickery. In times of social upheaval, people fled and attached themselves to powerful families, avoiding official registration. This only made the conflict between those in power and the great clans more intense. Perhaps for this reason, Cao, Liu, and Sun of the Three Kingdoms were always at odds with the local aristocratic families. It seems that population was one of the key bargaining chips and social resources.

Chapter Six: The Pros and Cons of a Transmigrator’s Environment

However, from what Colin Mason said, the The Brooks Family was just an ordinary noble family in Yizhou. With only a single direct line left and the collateral branches scattered far and wide, rarely in contact, such a family was unlikely to interact much with other great clans. In the eyes of those sprawling, branch-filled families, they were hardly worth mentioning.

You have to understand, this was an era that valued strength in numbers. A thin family line meant there was no way to form a large sphere of influence. Still, after years of hard work, they had at least entered the ranks of the gentry. In this era, carrying the title of a noble family was a kind of status, a foundation for survival and development.

“Four hundred household slaves, dozens of maids, an average of six people per household—damn, this is practically a model of a feudal landlord in ancient society.” Peter Brooks secretly rejoiced. His unseen, eccentric father had at least been humane enough to leave him a considerable inheritance. In his own home, just the tenant farmers and hidden households added up to nearly fifteen hundred, plus several hundred household slaves. In this era, so-called household slaves were actually the private soldiers of these great clans. Otherwise, during the chaos in Yizhou, how could those aristocratic families have so quickly gathered so many troops for Zhao Wei?

Calculating it all, wow, he had several thousand people under his command. Even if he wanted to be a bandit leader, he could easily raise a thousand-strong force to rebel against the government.

It seemed that Heaven had not abandoned him, not dumping him in some remote mountain village as a peasant. Although he was a transmigrator, having a foundation made a huge difference in how fast one could develop. Material conditions are the basis for social and technological progress. For example, there were others who had transmigrated, but ended up as ethnic minorities in some small village in the southern mountains. In such places, even a genius in math, physics, and chemistry would be left dumbfounded by nothing but grass-leaf animal skins and bamboo-tube rice cooked over smoky fires.

Thinking of this, Peter Brooks couldn’t help but laugh with joy. Beside him, Steward Mason was made uneasy by the young master’s unsettling laughter, glancing at him nervously, afraid he might get too happy and fall ill.

“The Brooks Residence, Uncle is Xu Jing, so am I called Peter Brooks?!” Peter Brooks hadn’t finished being happy when he suddenly remembered something, pointed at his own nose and shouted at Steward Mason. Steward Mason clapped his hands in delight: “Of course! Who else but our young master could have that name?”

Damn, just as he’d arrived in paradise, he was thrown into hell. Peter Brooks was filled with mixed emotions, his face a picture of misery…

Steward Mason, seeing his young master’s mood swing so strangely and quickly, wanted to ask more, but Peter Brooks was in no mood to chat with the steward. He brushed him off, claiming a headache. Seeing he could get nothing more, Steward Mason had to withdraw for now. Still, he was worried about the young master’s health, so as soon as he left, he called over a sharp-looking servant.

“Uncle Meng, what are your orders?” The servant, seeing Steward Mason’s worried face, immediately straightened up. Steward Mason beckoned him over, lowered his voice, and whispered in his ear, “The young master is resting inside. Don’t disturb him for now. But you must keep your eyes peeled and watch his every move. If anything unusual happens, report to me at once.”