Chapter 95: What Was Seen and Heard

This year was a season of turmoil for the entire Mongol steppe: first, the Tatars rebelled against Jin; then, the Jin Chancellor Wanyan Xiang led the Jin army to crush the Tatar tribe; then Temujin, under the pretext of avenging his father, attacked the Tatar fortresses, killed their leaders, and seized vast supplies; Temujin was enfeoffed by Jin as a commander, and Wang Han was granted the title of Khan.

Next, a branch of the Tatars, with Jin's help, annexed the remaining Tatar tribes; then, inexplicably, a rumor spread across the steppe: that the Tatars had incited slaves to kill their masters and shamans. This rumor was absurd to them, for on the steppe, a slave killing a master was a greater sacrilege than a son killing a father.

Few might care if a son killed his father, but if a slave killed a master, he must be executed with the cruelest punishment; after death, a shaman would use sorcery to trap his soul in the darkest hell, where it would forever suffer the most severe tortures. Therefore, under the shamans' instruction, tribes across the steppe formed a coalition army to punish the sacrilegious Tatars.

The coalition army vastly outnumbered the Tatars and fought with righteous cause; they expected victory to come with overwhelming force, yet the result was utterly shocking.

The coalition army was defeated, and badly. The man hailed as the bravest on the steppe, the Khan of the Wang Gubu tribe, was killed by the Tatars in this battle, and the Wang Gubu army suffered a devastating blow.

One-third of the Taichigu tribe's army was wiped out by the Tatars; the Naiman and Kereit tribes suffered heavy losses in this battle. The soldiers who escaped went mad at the mere mention of the Tatars, crouching on the ground, clutching their heads, and muttering: "Devils, devils, don't kill me, don't kill me."

Watching these returning soldiers, no one could imagine how terrifying the Tatars must be to have driven them all mad.

For a time, the entire tribe fell into panic. Temujin and his companions, mingling among the Wang Gubu, could not help but shake their heads and say: "These people, without Jamukha's leadership, are already a disorganized mass; now they have lost their courage, and are destined to pose no threat to the Tatars."

Indeed, when the Tatar iron hooves reached the Wang Gubu tribe, the Wang Gubu abandoned resistance at the Tatars' repeated cries of "The Revolutionary Army treats prisoners well." As for the tribal nobles, fearing trial, they chose to flee; unfortunately, their horses were not faster than the short clubs in the Tatars' hands.

After their warhorses were killed, they had no choice but to be taken alive.

Temujin and his companions, now prisoners, had resolved to endure any torture and humiliation, only to discover that the Tatars truly did treat prisoners well.

They even posted the regulations for prisoner treatment: prisoners' lodging, food, and hygiene and medical care must be guaranteed; prisoners may be detained, but may not be imprisoned except under criminal or disciplinary sanctions; prisoners may not be forced to perform dangerous or degrading labor, and their working hours must not exceed eight per day.

Most importantly, the Tatars actually followed through: they ensured their lodging was clean and hygienic, and the daily rations were excellent. That thing called sweet potato was very sweet; unfortunately, eating too much of it caused flatulence. Farting during the day was no problem, but if one did it at night, the person sleeping beside them suffered greatly.

Temujin was especially qualified to speak on this, for Borchu, who shared his tent, loved to fart at night; it was not only foul-smelling but also loud.

One day, the group was led by the Tatars to work. The soldier escorting them, noticing Temujin's dark circles, could not help but say: "Ge'uzhen, shall we change your roommate? You look like you haven't slept well in days; continuing like this will hinder your reformation."

Temujin scratched his head and said: "Could I be moved to the same room as Khudusi? I've encountered many things in earlier years, and I'm not entirely comfortable sleeping with strangers."

Khudusi was Kubilai's alias. The soldier escorting them replied: "Very well, as long as Khudusi and his roommate agree."

Hearing the soldier's words, Temujin breathed a sigh of relief; his ordeal was finally over.

The work assigned that day was light; the Tatars made them work only half a day before leading them to a place, supposedly to perform magic tricks and illusions to entertain the prisoners.

For some reason, they sensed the Tatars' plans were not simple; only upon arrival did they realize that what was called a magic show was actually an explanation of the shamans' methods.

Whatever the shamans knew, these magicians knew; not only did they know, but they could also teach the prisoners on the spot, letting them experience it firsthand, and even teach them seemingly more powerful tricks, such as retrieving paper money from an oil cauldron.

The bold Borchu and Subutai would never miss a chance to go on stage and try it themselves; even after descending from the high platform, they remained thoroughly satisfied.

Borchu kept saying as he came down: "Good heavens, if I had learned these earlier, I wouldn't have done this life-and-death work; but it's not too late to learn now. Hehe, with this trick of retrieving paper money from an oil cauldron, let's see which shaman on the steppe is more powerful than me. Whatever a shaman knows, I know; whatever a shaman doesn't know, I know too."

Watching the enthusiastic Subutai and Borchu, Temujin could not help but mourn for Kokechu, the shaman who had enthroned him as Khan. As expected, once they returned, Subutai and Borchu would either steal his livelihood or smash it to pieces.

However, the conduct of these generals was still normal; after all, they knew to some extent that shamans were merely pretending to be gods to deceive people, and they themselves were beneficiaries of such deception.

But the common people below were not beneficiaries. From birth, they believed shamans were the spokesmen of the gods; thus, they willingly allowed slave masters to enslave them. And now? Once the mysterious veil was lifted, shamans were no different from ordinary people; they could perform these tricks too, yet they remained ordinary people themselves.

At that moment, their faith collapsed. Years of willing submission turned into intense anger and hatred. Countless people raised their arms and shouted: "Let those liars come out! They are not agents of the Heavenly God! I will drown them in the cesspool and see if they die!"

"The cesspool is unsuitable; he worships fire. I think we should tie him to a post and burn him alive."

"I think we should pierce his heart with ten thousand arrows."

"I think the Han method of five horses tearing apart is more suitable; anyway, we have no shortage of horses."

Amid the countless accusations, the head of the prisoner camp led the shamans onto the stage and said: "Fathers, mothers, and fellow villagers, please be quiet. I know you are furious upon learning you have been deceived, but we must respect your cultural beliefs. We must still verify in detail whether these people are truly spokesmen of the gods. How about this: if they pass our final test, they may become shamans; if they do not pass, they cannot?"

Down below, Temujin and his companions remembered that mad spy had told them about the final test. What was it again? Ten strikes with a short club against their foreheads; if they did not die, they were the spokesmen of the gods.

Thinking of this, they already knew this person's fate. Such a club could kill someone from eight hundred paces away, let alone striking directly against the forehead, and not once, but ten times in total.

If he did not die, he should not claim to be the spokesman of the gods; even if he claimed to be the son of a god, they would believe him.