Chapter 1998: A Further Remedy for the Root Cause

After years of contact and understanding, most of the upper echelons of Anxi—not all, but at least the majority—knew that the greatest difficulty and obstacle to pacifying Anxi was the religion of Islam.

Suppressing the religious bandits was merely a treatment of symptoms rather than the root cause. No matter how many troops were dispatched, high-pressure security operations could not be maintained for long. The "religious bandits" who gathered in the mountains and forests were not truly fearsome; what truly gave one a headache was the "popular base" these bandits possessed.

Many Muslim remnants could shift between being civilians and bandits without the slightest hesitation. Even those servants and lackeys who outwardly submitted would pay lip service while secretly colluding with the bandits and causing trouble—this was a common occurrence.

There were two main reasons for this situation. First, the Protectorate Government had not ceded benefits to the old rentier classes. Of the many who surrendered, only the Turgesh people in the north received any preferential treatment, and even that was meager.

Second was Islam itself. Faith was a somewhat mysterious thing—worthless to those who did not believe, but once people were armed with it, its power was immense.

In Liu Min's view, the latter factor accounted for the vast majority. It was precisely because of this shared faith that the "religious bandits" active in Anxi's weakly governed borderlands possessed ample popular support. The further west one went, the more stubborn they became.

Of the two root causes, the former was easy to resolve—one merely needed to cede some benefits to those who surrendered, uniting them through shared interests, primarily targeting the nomadic tribes in the north. The difficult part was precisely the second point: how to break this faith-based popular foundation.

To say it was difficult—it wasn't really that difficult either. There was one easiest, most trouble-free method: simply set aside prejudice and embrace Islam. The Protectorate Government only needed to issue a decree, repair the damaged mosques, invite back the imams, and permit them to preach freely.

If so, those stubborn "religious bandits" might be beyond redemption, but the ordinary Muslim remnants and believers would have the possibility of submitting. Without the conflict of faith, most people would prefer to live peaceful lives. If some imams and elders were also bought off, the process could be accelerated even further.

However, could the Protectorate Government do such a thing? First of all, Liu Min would put an X on it. This was a shortcut, and in essence, a compromise. This would not accord with the Great Han's current national character—a compromise that dishonored the nation was unacceptable.

Even if blood feuds already sworn could be resolved through compromise and reconciliation, Liu Min could be certain that once this was done, Anxi would likely fall into division and internal strife. And when word spread back to the homeland, it would inevitably be reviled by the entire court. Even the tiny kingdom of Khotan had bones hard enough to fight religious wars against the Kara-Khanids for so many years—how could the dignified Han army of Anxi soften its stance and compromise?

Of course, as a mature politician, if strengthening control over Anxi could be achieved, even a certain degree of compromise could be attempted. However, would reconciling with Islam accomplish that goal? Quite the opposite!

The deeper Liu Min's understanding of Islam grew, the stronger his apprehension became. This religion eroded secular power too severely and held too firm a grip over the ignorant masses. In the Great Han, there was no tradition of divine authority overriding royal authority. In Liu Min's understanding, there was only Emperor Liu's forceful suppression of the realm's religions and his purging of heretical cults and licentious shrines.

For Liu Min, what was most detestable about Islam was not its doctrines and taboos, not its extreme expansionism, not the radical interpretations of its fanatics—but its confrontation with secular royal authority. That single point was forever unacceptable.

Compromise was impossible—at least for now. So, given the situation Anxi faced, how should it be resolved? Perhaps only by going from one extreme to the other.

In fact, Liu Min had long been formulating plans in his mind. A more thorough transformation of the territories under Anxi's governance was necessary, and the transformation of the Islamic faith—to put it plainly—could also be called "cleansing."

The "religion-eradication" campaign Liu Min had carried out back then was limited to Suyab. Even when it later spread somewhat, it remained confined to a handful of towns and cities. For the outskirts and rural areas, no further action was taken. Among the common people, among those remnants, a great many still recited scriptures and worshipped their Allah.

In fact, Liu Min had already taken some measures—such as introducing Buddhism from Khotan and bringing the Three Teachings from the homeland—and had achieved certain results. At least those servants who had pledged themselves to the Great Han had already changed their faith.

This did not seem to be too difficult a task. After all, the Kara-Khanid Khanate's complete Islamization had only taken place some twenty-odd years before Liu Min's western expedition. Earlier still, it was not the sole dominant faith—Manichaeism, Zoroastrianism, and Buddhism all had room to survive.

Now, all Liu Min needed to do was make those ignorant masses who needed faith walk the opposite path once more.

Of course, this process required steel blades to pave the way. Liu Min and Anxi did not have the patience to spend twenty or thirty years slowly transforming things. Since the problem at hand was urgent, it was understandable that the methods would be more drastic.

At this very moment, two words were repeating in Liu Min's mind: Eradicate the faith! Eradicate the faith! Eradicate the faith!

It was foreseeable that adopting drastic measures would inevitably provoke fierce resistance. But since when had Anxi feared the hatred and retaliation of the Islamic world? The grudge had long been settled, and it was growing deeper and deeper.

In the past, there had always been plans to use immigration—to increase the influx of outside populations—thereby balancing the demographic structure, gradually replacing the Kara-Khanid and Samanid rule over this land, and eliminating Islam's influence.

But now, seeking large-scale population support from the homeland was no longer feasible. That left only one other method.

From a mathematical standpoint, to change the population outcome and adjust the demographic ratios of various peoples, besides increasing one's own population, one could also reduce the other side's population. The end result was the same.

Look at how the court resolved the Yulin Tangut problem!

The impact of the central government's policy adjustments regarding the western expedition propagated layer by layer—from Luoyang to He-Long, then to Gaochang, and finally reaching Anxi. From this, one could also see how deformed Anxi had been in politics, military affairs, economy, and people's livelihoods. To survive and operate on this land for the long term, a reform was inevitable.

At the same time, launching this transformation now meant the external environment was relatively "friendly" to Anxi. Currently, Anxi's greatest threat was the Islamic world to the west, and the Samanid Dynasty it directly faced was mired in internal strife. Several regional powers had already raised their banners and split off. The Samanids had no time to take revenge on Anxi—on the contrary, they feared the Anxi army continuing its westward advance.

As for the other Islamic kingdoms, each had its own problems and constant internal friction. The only one that was presentable was the Ghaznavid Dynasty. However, would that state, possessing real strength, not busy itself with drawing nourishment from the Samanids and expanding its national power, only to rush eastward to wage "holy war" against the formidable Anxi army? Anyone with a functioning brain would choose the option more beneficial to themselves.

Overall, the Islamic world was currently in a relatively chaotic "weak period." With the lesson of the previous coalition's failed holy war, unless a new instigator emerged, no matter how Anxi persecuted their co-religionists, a large wave of holy warriors marching east was an impossibility.

Liu Min had learned and understood some of these matters; otherwise, he could not have resolved to implement more drastic policies.

That very night, Liu Min sent people to notify the high command of the Anxi army within Suyab city to gather at the Diligent Governance Hall the next morning for deliberations. Liu Min had his ideas, but he still needed the support and endorsement of the entire Anxi army.