Chapter 278: The Wicked Monk

As that dark cloud drew closer, a cacophony of chirping gradually drifted down from the sky.

In the sunlight, specks could be seen fluttering at the edges of the cloud mass.

That enormous cloud mass, several hundred zhang across, was in fact a flock of birds.

Zhoushan had been a breeding and staging ground for migratory birds traveling north and south since ancient times—migrants from as far north as Siberia and Alaska, and as far south as Borneo and Oceania, all converged here.

In early winter, when summer birds were heading south and winter birds were just arriving, the number of migratory birds on Zhoushan's islands numbered well over a million.

Since the founding of the Ming dynasty, Zhoushan had been under the sea ban, leaving the islands sparsely populated and covered with mudflats, ponds, beaches, and reed marshes—all of them paradise for foraging birds, which was why the migratory flocks kept growing.

Had the birds not been startled into flight by the cannon fire, even the islanders themselves would not have known there were so many migrants on the islands.

The sight of the flock blotting out the sky was so overwhelming that soldiers on both sides momentarily forgot the battle.

The dark cloud circled in the air for a moment, then gradually flew off toward Mount Putuo to the northeast—no doubt the birds, frightened, were seeking a safer roost to hide in.

Once the flock flew off, the Lingcang's bombardment resumed, and in no time another three volleys were fired.

Three Haicang-class ships were sunk, and the remaining Ming vessels had all taken hits of varying severity; unable to hold on any longer, they turned around one after another and fled back to port.

Bai Qing said, "Chase them—don't let the enemy get away!"

The helmsman shouted across the deck: "Hard to starboard, port side to the wind—tack about!"

The boatswain was just about to relay the order when he heard a sharp crack from the sea behind him. He turned and saw a green signal flare rising from the direction of the Zheng He.

The helmsman saw it too and said to Bai Qing, "The helmsman-master is ordering us to withdraw."

Bai Qing glanced at the Ming troops fleeing in disarray, feeling it a pity to just let them go—but on second thought, they had routed the Ming forces without much trouble, and could always fight them again if need be. Besides, military orders could not be disobeyed.

So Bai Qing gave the order: "Return to the fleet."

The helmsman shouted, "Hard to starboard, heading southeast, port side running with the wind!"

Aboard the Zheng He, Lin Qian saw the Lingcang pulling back and lowered his telescope.

Geng Wu could not help asking, "Helmsman-master, the Ming forces are thoroughly routed—why not press the advantage and pursue?"

Lin Qian pointed at the islet in front of the Shenjiamen naval stockade: "What's that island called?"

The staff officer aboard said, "It's called Zhujiajian. The Ming's Shenjiamen naval stockade lies between Zhujiajian and Zhoushan's main island, with a waterway between them roughly a hundred-odd zhang wide." Lin Qian said, "A waterway a hundred-odd zhang wide is about the width of a river. The Shenjiamen stockade has no water-side wall—they must be using Zhujiajian as a natural wall. Have you ever seen a stockade wall left undefended?"

Geng Wu suddenly understood: "Helmsman-master means the Ming forces are feigning defeat to lure us in?"

Lin Qian nodded and asked, "What's the water depth?"

A surveyor beside him cast a copper line weighted with a lead ball into the sea, let it sink to the bottom, then hauled it back up and called out, "Depth about three zhang!"

The staff officer recorded it, compared it with the water level from an hour earlier, and gasped in a low voice: "The water level has dropped! This… this is the tide going out? But it's gone out far too much…"

Normal tides rise and fall only once each in a twelve-hour cycle, but the waters off Zhoushan rise and fall twice a day—what is called a semidiurnal tide.

Moreover, the waters around Zhoushan are all shallow, and the seabed terrain has a strong effect on the tides: the height difference between the two daily rises and falls varies, the speed of flood and ebb differs, and the tidal range is large.

In short, the hydrology is complex—anyone who has not lived there for years would find it nearly impossible to grasp the patterns.

Lin Qian said, "The Ming forces want to use the ebb tide to lure us onto the shoals. Once we run aground, we'd be lambs for the slaughter."

Geng Wu was greatly enlightened and said repeatedly, "This… who would have thought a mere naval stockade could harbor such a mind. Good thing the helmsman-master is so knowledgeable." Lin Qian chuckled lightly: "The Ming forces are weak because of their system—take those military officers out on their own, and every one of them is a shrewd old fox."

As they spoke, the Lingcang and her two escorts had completed their turn and were heading back.

Lin Qian said, "Order: Bailangzai is to lead the Sea Wolf to seal off both the eastern and western exits of the Shenjiamen naval stockade—only besiege, do not rush to attack. Order: the Lingcang and the Hengcang are to set up an ambush on the Ningbo–Zhoushan shipping route, and the Pocang is to set up an ambush on the Hangzhou–Zhoushan route.

The rest of the fleet withdraws to the open sea to the southeast!"

"Yes!" Geng Wu clasped his hands and went to relay the orders.

In no time, messengers set out in dispatch boats to carry the orders everywhere, and the fleet moved according to Lin Qian's arrangements.

Lin Qian had not come in person merely to seize islands.

Though Zhoushan's position was important, the Ming forces there were weak. Lin Qian's true aim was to besiege the point and strike at the relief—to wipe out the entirety of Zhejiang's mobile naval forces.

Intercepting enemy shipping lanes with single ships on the open sea—that was the tactical role of the cruising warship.

Ningbo and Zhoushan were extremely close. By military regulation, upon seeing Zhoushan's beacon smoke, the navy was supposed to dispatch troops.

But half of its naval strength had just been drawn off by Yuan Chonghuan, and since it dared not engage Nan'ao in open battle, it kept delaying until nightfall.

They had assumed that with Nan'ao's strength, taking Zhoushan's main island would be a matter of half a day at most.

Yet even by dusk, the beacon smoke from Dinghai city was still burning.

The Ningbo navy had no choice but to set out, hoping to slip in under cover of darkness without being spotted.

Little did they know—after sailing for only an hour and a half, they saw a flash of red light on the sea ahead, followed by the rumble of cannon fire.

The Ningbo navy immediately turned around on the spot and fled toward the shore.

Inside the Shenjiamen naval stockade, Li Wending paced in anxiety.

During the day he had feigned an attack and a retreat, hoping to lure the enemy into chasing him onto the shoals, but it had all been for nothing—he had needlessly lost several dozen brothers. And at dusk, both the eastern and western exits of the stockade had been sealed off by the enemy.

At this rate, his stockade, cannons, and warships would all become the enemy's spoils.

Just as he was fretting, a subordinate burst into the room, panting as he reported: "General, I went out to scout around the stockade—the enemy hasn't landed yet. But brothers who came from Dinghai city say they heard the rumble of cannon fire out on the sea to the west. The Ningbo relief force must have met with disaster…"

"I see." Li Wending let out a sigh.

Before long, the stockade's Battalion Commander came in to report: "General, I sent men to scout the hideouts of the sea bandits in the area."

"Well? Are they willing to help?" Li Wending was full of hope.

The Battalion Commander said awkwardly, "Those cowards—on ordinary days, no one cursed Lin Qian louder than they did, but now that the real deal has shown up, every last one of them has run off…" "Run off?" Li Wending could hardly believe it.

Zhoushan had over a thousand islands, the vast majority of them barren, and there was no shortage of sea bandits who seized islands and made themselves kings. They had been hunted from the Jiajing era all the way to the Tianqi era, yet never wiped out—a stubborn scourge.

And now the Nan'ao fleet arrives, and before even making a move, the sea bandits flee on their own?

Li Wending found it utterly absurd.

"Don't worry, General—with the sea routes blocked, we can still take the land route and shelter for a while in Dinghai city."

Li Wending said, "Unless we smash the enemy's fleet, even fleeing to Dinghai city would only mean dying a little later."

The Battalion Commander ventured tentatively, "General, at this point there's no other way—why not try that eminent monk?"

Li Wending said, "What eminent monk?"

"The one from Mount Putuo, the one I mentioned to you this morning, General."

Li Wending remembered and sneered, "What kind of goods do you think the Putuo monks are? Don't you think I know? How dare they show off their street-corner tricks before two armies?"

The Battalion Commander waved his hands repeatedly: "General, this Monk Kongji is different—this man truly has supernatural power. Do you know the story of 'Iron Lotuses Blocking the Japanese Pirates'?" Li Wending poured himself a bowl of honey wine, tipped his head back and drained it, saying, "I've heard of it—nothing but an insubstantial legend."

"It's true! Every commoner on Zhoushan knows it!" the Battalion Commander said excitedly. "In the thirty-second year of Jiajing, the Japanese pirate bands under Wang Zhi and Xiao Xian invaded eastern Zhejiang with over three hundred pirate vessels great and small, a force of a thousand men.

These pirates first took Mount Putuo, burned down the Guanyin Temple, and plundered every monastery great and small, and the villages besides.

Then they sailed south to attack Dinghai Guard Station. As their ships crossed the Lotus Ocean between Mount Putuo and Zhoushan Island proper, waves suddenly rose without wind, thick fog drifted between sea and sky, and within the fog Buddha-light shone all around, Sanskrit chanting sounded in waves, and lotuses bloomed from the sea.

Every pirate vessel was trapped fast among the lotuses, unable to move, and Commander Yu's fleet slew them all to the last man. The one who worked that sorcery was Monk Kongji." "Haha…" Li Wending burst out laughing at this. "From the thirty-second year of Jiajing to now is over seventy years. That old bald donkey—has he lived this long by being a turtle?"

The Battalion Commander was greatly alarmed. He hurriedly pressed his palms together and bowed in worship to all four directions, saying, "General, Mount Putuo is the bodhimanda of Guanyin Bodhisattva—a sacred ground of the Buddhist faith! You must not speak such blasphemous words!"

Li Wending had traveled north and south and seen plenty of soldier scum and army veterans—men who burned, killed, and looted without a second thought—but this was the first time he'd met one so devout in his belief in the gods. He asked, "Is it really that efficacious?"

The Battalion Commander nodded heavily: "Efficacious beyond belief! It's not just me who thinks so—the island folk, our brothers at the guard station, even the sea bandits go to pay homage from time to time. Word has it even the Prefect of Hangzhou often invites Monk Kongji over to discuss the Dharma."

Several guards were on duty in the room. Li Wending swept his gaze over them, and they all nodded in unison, adding accounts of the various miracles they themselves had witnessed on the island. Li Wending said, "If that's so, go fetch the man tonight."

The Battalion Commander acknowledged the order and went out.

Li Wending sat in camp drinking cup after cup, and the more he drank, the more aggrieved he felt.

He thought back to when he had enlisted at Denglai—the Governor had been Yuan Keli, the Regional Commander Shen Yourong—both towering heroes of renown who had forged the Denglai fleet into a single block of iron.

Later came the great victory at Fuzhou, and the Denglai fleet shook the realm with its fame. Even Li Wending, a mere roaming commander in that fleet who hadn't fought in the front lines, basked in reflected glory. But good times never last—the eunuch faction seized power at court, and Governor Sun and Governor Yuan were impeached and dismissed one after another. Regional Commander Shen retired to his hometown and soon died of illness. After that, every Governor and Regional Commander sent to Denglai was a eunuch-faction man through and through, spending their days scheming over building shrines to their patrons, padding the payroll, bleeding the soldiers dry, and fleecing the common folk. The proud Denglai force, that band of heroes, degenerated within three years into nothing distinguishable from ordinary camp soldiers.

Li Wending was an upright man. Because he gave his superiors too little in gifts, he was promoted in name but demoted in fact, packed off to Zhoushan to guard a barren island.

And the new Governor-General the court had sent to the southeast, His Excellency Yuan, was a fool as well—pulling the Zhejiang fleet away to defend the Yangtze?

What if Nan'ao comes to attack Zhoushan?

Even a clever housewife can't cook without rice!

Wasn't this just sending him, Li Wending, to his death?

Li Wending raised his wine bowl and gulped it dry. His salary was meager, and every bit of padded payroll went to support his household retainers—even for drink, he could only afford cheap honey wine.

He picked up the wine jar and studied it, thinking that Nan'ao really did have some fine things—even this wine alone was good quality at a fair price.

Rumor had it that under Nan'ao's rule, goods were abundant and the people prosperous. Whether it was true or not, he couldn't say.

Bowl after bowl he drank, and soon the jar was nearly empty. When he looked up, the sky was already faintly light, and a thick fog had risen outside.

"Damn it all—what a fog!"

Li Wending cursed.

Zhoushan was prone to fog, especially in spring and summer, when a heavy mist would often linger for days on end. When Li Wending had first arrived at Zhoushan, he'd been thoroughly sick of the weather's constant fogs. But now, besieged as he was, the fog at least delayed the enemy's attack.

Now Li Wending could only hope the fog would hold a while longer.

Just then, a blurry figure emerged from the mist. Li Wending rested his hand on the hilt of his saber, on guard.

When the figure drew close, he saw it was his own Battalion Commander.

"The eminent monk wouldn't come?" Li Wending could already read the answer in the Battalion Commander's expression.

The Battalion Commander sighed and said, "Monk Kongji happened to have been invited to Hangzhou. Your subordinate arrived a step too late."

Li Wending gave a cold snort: "And of all times, he's away just as Nan'ao attacks—is the world really so full of coincidences?"

The Battalion Commander wanted to argue but found nothing to say.

Li Wending rose from his seat and said, "Enough. Send word to the Nan'ao forces—we surrender."

Under the Zhoushan Assistant Regional Commander were the Shenjiamen Naval Stockade and Dinghai City, with nearly two thousand men combined—but most were guard station troops, and the only elite forces had been pulled away by Yuan Chonghuan.

Facing Nan'ao's overwhelming naval power, holding out any longer was no different from throwing their lives away, so they might as well open the gates and surrender.

Whatever other orders Li Wending gave, his soldiers carried out sluggishly—but when it came to surrender, their efficiency was remarkable.

The Nan'ao forces took both positions that very day.

Beyond those two places, over a dozen islands still had Ming beacon towers. Li Wending, now surrendered to Nan'ao, was put in charge of persuading these Ming garrisons to capitulate one by one.

From the opening of hostilities to the conquest of the entire island group took only two days—unbelievably fast.

Which ruined the plan of besieging the point to ambush the reinforcements…

At the Shenjiamen Naval Stockade.

Lin Qian was inspecting the captured Ming-made red barbarian cannons.

The cannon was about one zhang long, with a bore of about six cun. The barrel was thick and heavy, the walls very stout, the surface quite rough, and it sat upon a clumsy wooden carriage. Judging by the weight of the shot, this cannon was roughly an eighteen-pounder, but far more cumbersome than Nan'ao's eighteen-pounders.

That was because the cannon was cast from pig iron. Pig iron had poor ductility, so the walls had to be thickened to prevent the barrel from bursting.

Lin Qian summoned the artillerymen and test-fired a few rounds. He found that although the cannon looked crude, its seal was sound and its power matched the eighteen-pounder. The Great Ming was a copper-poor country, but its pig iron output was enormous—casting cannons from it must have been cheap, allowing the Ming army to mass-produce them.

Of course, being so heavy, it could only be used for defense—too immobile for field warfare, and any ship mounting one would have to use a reduced bore.

Just then a subordinate jogged up to Lin Qian and reported, "Helmsman, last night the Ningbo fleet tried to reinforce Zhoushan. The Lingcang intercepted them, sank ten enemy vessels, and the remnants fled back."

"Understood."

Lin Qian's head ached a little. He had originally planned to use the besiege-the-point-ambush-the-reinforcements tactic to lure out the Zhejiang fleet and destroy it. But the Zhoushan fleet had surrendered too quickly, and the fleets at Ningbo and Hangzhou had proven too cowardly—the Zhejiang fleet hadn't suffered nearly enough casualties.

Zhoushan Island's coastline was too long—easy to attack, hard to defend. The fleet couldn't watch the sea lanes at all times. He needed a way to trick the Zhejiang fleet out and annihilate it. "Send word to Bai Qing—pull the three ships blockading the channel back, leave only the hawk ships to keep watch."

The Zhejiang fleet was too timid. If the blockade continued, they'd be even less willing to come out.

Pulling back the patrol vessels was only a stopgap. The fleet couldn't just sit and wait—and a direct assault on the coastal stockades of Zhejiang was also a poor option. What was needed was something clever. Lin Qian gazed at the sea, deep in thought.

"Helmsman…" Just then a personal guard came running up, only to be stopped by Geng Wu.

"The helmsman is thinking. Don't disturb him."

At that moment a breeze swept past, slightly cold, and Lin Qian instinctively pulled his clothes tighter.

The Little Ice Age had brought abnormal weather. Zhoushan was often hit by cold snaps that sent temperatures plunging—in some years the sea even froze over in winter for several years running. If things dragged on until the sea surface froze, the Nan'ao fleet would have to withdraw, leaving Zhoushan even more isolated and helpless.

Just then a flash of inspiration struck Lin Qian. He asked, "Geng Wu, how are our winter clothing reserves aboard the fleet?"

Geng Wu scratched his head and said, "Helmsman, before we set sail, you ordered everyone to change into winter clothes, saying it was to prepare for unexpected needs."

Lin Qian looked at his men—indeed, every one of them wore the standard-issue padded jackets, a kind of right-lapel, wide-front coat reaching to the knees, each stuffed with two jin of cotton, similar in cut to a light military overcoat.

Such cotton garments were extremely expensive in the Great Ming; for poor families, they counted as heirlooms—when there was no food to eat, they could be pawned for money.

Before attacking Zhoushan, the Military Intelligence Department had already learned of the region's strange climate, which was why Lin Qian had ordered the winter clothing to be brought along.

Lin Qian said, "Geng Wu, pass on my order—go to Zhejiang and purchase some cotton."

"Yes! Huh?" Geng Wu scratched his head and asked, "How much should we buy?"

"The more the better! Also, have everyone take off their winter clothes. It's not that cold out—wearing so much will make them sweat, and that will only make them catch a chill."

Saying this, Lin Qian took the lead in removing his cotton coat. He felt a bit cold at first, but soon adapted.

Though winter had arrived, the cold snap had not yet come, and Zhoushan sat at mid-latitude. Lin Qian estimated the temperature to be around twelve degrees—they were all strapping young men, they should be able to bear it.

Geng Wu went to relay the order, and Lin Qian added one more instruction: "Go through a middleman to make the purchases."

Geng Wu said, "Helmsman, rest assured, I understand."

A few days later.

In the city of Hangzhou, the Zhejiang Governor, Provincial Administration Commissioner, Regional Commander, Vice Regional Commander, and other provincial dignitaries gathered together, anxious as ants on a hot pan. Their anticipation for a great battle was far stronger than Lin Qian's.

Zhoushan was, after all, a key maritime defense post—if it were lost, every provincial official would face punishment.

According to the recent issues of the Nan'ao Times reprinting the Capital Gazette, the new emperor was a man who tolerated no sand in his eyes. He had purged from top to bottom the officials who had failed to hold their territory during the Jisi Incident; the lightest punishment was military exile, while more suffered confiscation of property and beheading.

Now the court had sent Yuan Chonghuan to pacify Nan'ao, and Nan'ao had also executed Wei Zhongxian—this was a sensitive moment in the political situation.

If they told the court that Zhoushan was lost, what would the emperor think?

From the Governor on down, no one would escape.

But as for sending the navy to fight a decisive battle with Lin Qian—they didn't have that ability either.

Everyone in the world knew that the Nan'ao navy was invincible at sea; if they sent their fleet and it was destroyed in one go, like the Zhejiang navy had been, the crime would be even greater.

On the very night Zhoushan fell, the Ningbo navy had risked sortieing, and sure enough, they were caught red-handed by the Nan'ao navy.

The Ningbo navy didn't fire a single shot—they turned around and fled, relying on extinguishing their ship lamps and scattering into small groups to barely escape the pursuit.

After that, the Hangzhou navy dared not venture out so easily.

A hall full of provincial dignitaries—men who could summon wind and rain within the province—were reduced to losing sleep over a tiny desolate island called Zhoushan. It was truly pitiful to say.

A guard came to report: "Your Excellency, the guard station navies of Dinghai, Linshan, Guanhai, Haimen, Songmen, and others have arrived at Hangzhou. Counting the standard battalion navy, there are three thousand men and over one hundred twenty warships, awaiting Your Excellency's orders."

"Understood." The Governor waved his hand impatiently.

The Provincial Administration Commissioner said crossly, "What does His Excellency Yuan have to say?"

Someone replied, "His Excellency says we should hold our positions and await reinforcements."

The Provincial Administration Commissioner cursed loudly, "Zhejiang loses territory and we hold fast; he builds his achievements in Jiangxi. All the credit goes to him, all the blame falls on us—he certainly knows how to play the official game!" The Governor said, "Keep the complaints to a minimum! Let's first discuss the matter at hand—do we attack or defend?"

The Provincial Surveillance Commissioner spread his hands and said, "Attack? With what? Can three thousand-odd guard station sailors defeat the Nan'ao army?"

The Governor said, "Then does His Excellency He mean we should defend?"

"I didn't say that." The Provincial Surveillance Commissioner hastily distanced himself from the responsibility.

The Provincial Administration Commissioner said, "If His Excellency Yuan hadn't stripped away the elite of the Zhejiang navy, we wouldn't be in such a passive position!"

Just as the group was arguing endlessly, a soldier ran into the hall and whispered to the Regional Commander at the base of the wall.

After hearing it, the Regional Commander's eyes lit up. He stepped forward with clasped hands and said, "Your Excellency, gentlemen, I have just received word—the rebel Lin is making large-scale purchases of cotton along the Zhejiang coast."

"A merchant by origin indeed—even now he can't forget doing business!" the Provincial Surveillance Commissioner said with contempt.

Zhejiang in the Great Ming was a major cotton-producing province with a developed textile industry; cotton and cotton cloth were indeed much cheaper there than elsewhere.

"No, that's not it!" The Governor's tone was urgent. "How much has the rebel Lin bought?"

"To report to Your Excellency, he has already bought over five hundred jin and is still continuing to purchase—old clothing, cotton cloth, cotton shoes, cotton trousers, he buys it all."

"Haha!" The Provincial Administration Commissioner slapped his thigh. "The rebel Lin's soldiers aren't familiar with Zhoushan's weather, and they lack cotton clothing! We only need to wait for the deep winter to strike, and we can annihilate them in one blow."

The Governor said, "We can't wait that long! The rebel Lin has convenient sea transport—at most half a month, cotton clothing can be shipped from Fujian. Regional Commander Wang, is your intelligence accurate?"

The Regional Commander clasped his hands: "Quite a few coastal fishermen have seen Nan'ao soldiers shivering in the cold wind wearing only single-layer clothes—it's absolutely true!"

"Heaven helps me!" The Governor let out a long breath.

Hangzhou and Zhoushan were separated only by a stretch of sea, and their climates were somewhat similar. This place appeared warm, but in truth, a single cold snap could send temperatures plummeting. One day you might wear a single layer, and the next you'd need cotton clothes and a fire—beggars on the street could freeze to death in a single day.

Because the temperature dropped so rapidly, the sea surface would even form the strange spectacle of sea mist rising like smoke.

The rebel Lin lacked winter clothing; his soldiers couldn't possibly sail and fight in the cold wind. Attacking when the cold snap struck would guarantee victory.

However, to be on the safe side, the Governor still said, "Prefect Qian."

The Hangzhou Prefect, seated below, immediately rose and clasped his hands: "Your subordinate is here."

"That monk you mentioned—is he still in the city?"

"To report to Your Excellency, he is waiting outside the yamen gate."

"Oh?" The Governor grew interested. "You had him wait?"

"He said that within a few days, Your Excellency would surely summon him. He also said that if Your Excellency did not summon him, he bade me present this item."

As he spoke, the Hangzhou Prefect took a letter from his bosom.

"A charlatan." The Governor felt great disdain in his heart, but still had the Prefect present the letter.

The letter was unsealed. The Governor took it out and opened it, finding a poem written on it.

"White down rises from the sea, vast grudges and enmities dissolve. The confusing mist of illusions and suffering—all follows the wind and waves away."

"That accursed monk!" The Governor was both startled and angered, cursing inwardly.

"White down on the sea" referred to the strange phenomenon of sea vapor rising when the cold snap arrived.

"Dissolving grudges and enmities" and "following the wind and waves"—presumably a promise that he could defeat the rebel Lin.

This charlatan had actually guessed the Governor's thoughts, putting on airs of mystery and feigning profundity! Detestable!

Though he thought this in his heart, this demon monk had managed to bluff even the Hangzhou Prefect, so he must have some real ability.

As long as this man could repel the enemy, what did it matter if he had to swallow his disgust and play along with the act?

With this in mind, the Governor said, "Invite him inside for a talk."

The Hangzhou Prefect sent someone to relay the message outside the yamen gates.

After a moment, a monk slowly stepped into the hall, pressed his palms together, and intoned a Buddhist invocation.

The Governor sized him up—the man wore a thin, pale-white monk's robe, was around thirty years of age, bore twelve tonsure marks on his head, had regular features, a tall upright bearing, and a smile on his lips. His appearance was indeed extraordinary.

The Governor suppressed his temper and said in a magnanimous tone, "Great Master, now that the rebel Lin is invading Zhoushan, does the Great Master have any strategy to repel the enemy?"

Kongji intoned another Buddhist invocation and said, "Or when surrounded by bandits of hate, each wielding blades to do harm, think on the power of Guanyin, and compassion will arise in them all."

The assembled dignitaries exchanged bewildered glances, not understanding what this meant.

The Governor, however, had read some Buddhist scriptures and knew these words came from the *Lotus Sutra of the Wonderful Dharma*.

The general meaning was that when encountering bandits who would do harm, one need only rely on the power of the Buddhist dharma, and the bandits would give rise to compassionate hearts, lay down their blades, and pass through the calamity. The Governor was naturally dissatisfied with this charlatan-style answer, so he changed his approach and asked, "If the Great Master can repel the enemy, may I ask what offerings would be required?"

Kongji pressed his palms together and said, "I only wish to open an altar and preach the dharma, to spread the Buddhist teachings and deliver all sentient beings."

Hmph! The Governor let out a cold snort in his heart. "Opening an altar and preaching the dharma" sounded nice, but said plainly, it was just seeking fame.

Since the man sought something, he was probably not a mere madman—perhaps he did have some tricks up his sleeve.

So the Governor said, "Regional Commander Wang, when the time comes to go into battle, bring this Great Master along. He might prove useful."

The Zhejiang Regional Commander clasped his hands in salute and acknowledged the order.

However, Kongji said, "The troops should be dispatched at dusk, three days from now."

The Governor said, "So be it!"

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen