Chapter 615: Deification

"What ill intent could I possibly harbor toward Confucius?"

Faced with Huan Tan's speculation, Diwu Lun replied thus — and what happened next seemed, indeed, to bear out his words.

In early March of the fourth year of Wude (AD 28), Diwu Lun entered the city of Qufu. The process of paying homage at the Confucian Temple could be described, in a word, as utterly unremarkable. His imperial cortege and guard of honor received a warm welcome from the people of Lu. There was absolutely no repeat of the scene during the Chu–Han Contention when, after Liu Bang had pacified the realm, only the Lu region held out and refused to surrender, keeping faith with "Duke of Lu" Xiang Yu. Having just driven off the Red Eyebrows and at last welcomed a "royal army" that at least observed some rules, the people of Lu were too delighted to do otherwise.

The Kong clan, a five-hundred-year-old academic magnate house whose family traditions remained intact, had long made a routine of receiving emperors, kings, generals, and chancellors, and they were quite practiced at it. They had even managed to serve the remnants of the Red Eyebrow Army smoothly and satisfactorily — let alone Diwu Lun, the Lord of Wei who had hopes of reunifying all under Heaven. Naturally, they were utterly deferential. Kong Zhi, the sixteenth-generation descendant of Confucius, personally went outside the city to welcome him, then cautiously led the way ahead.

Diwu Lun also showed them due respect. The very first thing he did upon entering the city was to declare: "I wish to offer the Grand Sacrifice to Confucius."

And so yet another grand and solemn ceremony of sacrifice at the Confucian Temple commenced. After Diwu Lun had meticulously performed the rites, he addressed Kong Zhi, Huan Tan, and the others in attendance: "Ever since I bound my hair, I have read the Analects. From Confucius's words and deeds, I have tried to envision the man himself. As the poem says, 'High as the mountain we gaze up toward, the great road we travel upon.' Though I cannot reach him, my heart yearns toward him. Today, I have at last come to the Sage's native place to see it for myself."

Diwu Lun continued: "After arriving in Lu, however, I have seen that although this region has just emerged from the chaos of the Red Eyebrow bandits, Zhongni's temple halls, chariots, vestments, and ritual vessels are all complete. Even living in a world in turmoil, the many scholars here have not forgotten to govern their households with ritual. This gladdens my heart greatly!"

He pointed at himself and said: "Of all the kings and lords under Heaven, each flourishes in his own time and is forgotten once he is gone. The Qin of Ying, the Han of Liu, the Xin of Wang Mang — all are thus. Some lasted two hundred years, some barely a dozen. Only Confucius has been passed down through more than ten generations, and to this day scholars still honor him as their master, an unbroken line through the ages. Be they Sons of Heaven, kings, or nobles, all who speak of the Six Arts are content to be the Sage's latter-day disciples. To have so established his words, his virtue, and his deeds — Confucius may truly be called the Utmost Sage!"

This florid outpouring of praise for Confucius from Diwu Lun was deeply gratifying to the Kong clan head, Kong Zhi. He felt that Diwu Lun's words were sincere and must be the truth. The clan's position was now secure; they could muddle along for at least another hundred years, inherit all past advantages, and endure together with Wei from beginning to end. Even if this Wei dynasty were to fall, their house would simply change masters again, without the slightest alteration.

Who could blame them? They were the descendants of a Sage. Their noble bloodline destined them to sit back and enjoy everything.

At that moment, however, Diwu Lun asked the Kong family to bring out the "Portrait of Confucius" for him to view.

"I have long heard of the illustrated method of Confucius's disciples, and that only in Qufu does a true likeness of Confucius exist. I wish to see it for myself!"

The Kong clan naturally dared not refuse the Emperor's request, and they quickly fetched from the inner hall the "true likeness" of Confucius, which was ordinarily not shown lightly.

It was an old silk painting, its colors already yellowed with age. Confucius stood upon it in profile, yet unlike the images common in later ages, what met Diwu Lun's eyes was a slender, graceful, and refined gentleman. The only difference was that his stature was slightly taller than the various disciples in the painting.

This surprised Diwu Lun somewhat. He asked Kong Zhi: "The true likeness of Confucius differs greatly from the rumors circulating outside."

What did the rumors outside say? The more ordinary ones merely claimed that Confucius was tall, mighty, and strange in appearance. But the most common accounts depicted Confucius as… scarcely human.

Diwu Lun said: "When I was in Chang'an, there was a book, the Chunqiu Wei: Yan Kong Tu, that circulated very widely. It says that Confucius was ten chi tall, with a vast mouth like the sea, a forehead like a hill, a square face, brows curved like the moon, horns growing from his forehead, very thick lips, an auxiliary throat and double-row teeth, a dragon-like gait, a tortoise's spine and tiger's palms, a waist ten spans around, and a chest as square and regular as a carpenter's square."

This was already exaggerated enough. If one truly painted him according to that description, Diwu Lun suspected the result would not be Confucius, but Chancellor Tortoise.

What followed was even more absurd — Diwu Lun hardly dared to imagine the image: "Add to that a sunken crown, a large nose, shoulders jutting high like wings, a voice like thunder, standing like a phoenix on a crag, sitting like a coiled dragon…"

Now he had turned into Lei Zhenzi. Diwu Lun could only suppress a laugh: "Furthermore, his eyebrows had twelve colored bands, his eyes possessed sixty-four distinct characteristics, his tongue bore seven layers of markings, and the lines on his hands were deep and long, as if bearing ancient seal script."

Diwu Lun gestured at his own chest: "The most bizarre thing is that the book asserts with absolute certainty that six characters were tattooed on Confucius's chest."

"'Fashioning the talisman-ordained destiny of the age!'"

Kong Zhi knew that Diwu Lun was not making this up. This book, the Chunqiu Wei: Yan Kong Tu, truly existed. It was one of the "masterpieces" produced after the Gongyang school developed toward prophetic apocrypha. Such works were easier to understand than the Five Classics, so they circulated very widely among the common people. One could say they had successfully broken into the "lower-tier market" and won the fervent belief of a great mass of illiterates. Over time, this had even become the universally accepted image of Confucius in that age, growing ever more fantastical as it spread. By contrast, very few outsiders knew of this ancient Warring States painting treasured by the Kong clan.

Yet faced with this increasingly intense mythologization of Confucius's image over the past century, the Kong clan, though knowing full well it was false, never stepped forward to correct it. On the contrary, they were happy to see it succeed.

The reason was obvious: the more Confucius was deified, the more the Kong clan's bloodline was venerated, and the more secure their position became.

The Kong clan, however, was clever after all. Ordinarily they only secretly added fuel to the fire, never personally descending into the arena to engage in prophetic apocrypha themselves. Now that Diwu Lun was questioning him, Kong Zhi deliberately feigned ignorance, claiming to know nothing at all, and merely said that this painting had been passed down in the family just as it was, that it was the sole true likeness of Confucius, and that the apocryphal prophecies outside were all fabrications!

Diwu Lun seemed to have developed a genuine interest in Confucius's origins and pressed further: "The Chunqiu Wei: Yan Kong Tu also says that Confucius's mother was wandering by the banks of a great marsh when she was touched by the essence of a black dragon and gave birth to Qiu in the hollow mulberry tree. Thus, Confucius is the son of the Black Emperor, and therefore called the Dark Sage…"

This story was cobbled together with far too little sincerity. Liu Bang, who was "touched by the Red Emperor," and his mother, Old Madam Liu, would call this the work of a true insider. Naturally, this apocryphal book did not deliberately set out to slander Confucius as "born of an illicit union"; it simply wanted to make Confucius's birth, like those of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou emperors who were conceived by Heaven, into that of a "Son of God"!

The Kong clan was likewise aware of this rumor, but they too adopted an attitude of turning a blind eye. They neither acknowledged nor denied it, enjoying the benefits of "divine blood" while simultaneously avoiding political risk.

"Son of the Black Emperor" and "Dark Sage" sounded thrilling, but faced with this Emperor who claimed to "possess all Five Virtues," Kong Zhi was terrified of arousing his suspicion. When Diwu Lun inquired whether this matter was true or false, Kong Zhi naturally had to deny it flatly!

"Your Majesty, absolutely no such thing!"

"So that is how it is." Diwu Lun seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. After leaving the Confucian Temple, he smiled and said to the attending ministers and the various Lu scholars who had come to join the excitement: "It seems, then, that the Chunqiu Wei: Yan Kong Tu and the many other prophetic apocrypha are all falsehoods?"

A single stone stirred a thousand waves. Only then did some of the scholars realize the gravity of the Emperor's words!

Ever since Dong Zhongshu devised the theory of Heaven–human resonance, prophetic apocrypha had followed Han Confucians like a shadow. Relying on the doctrine of Heaven and man, invoking yin-yang and the five phases, they had indulged in a frenzy of prophecy, portents, and auspicious signs.

After all, the threshold for thoroughly mastering the Five Classics was too high. This doctrine, which actively introduced superstition and prophecy and targeted the "lower-tier market," reaped a vast number of believers. Thus it was not only the Gongyang school; the Guliang school followed closely behind, and even the Old Text school founded by Liu Xin was passionately devoted to it.

In Diwu Lun's view, as the Five Classics were increasingly driven out by a flood of simplistic prophetic apocrypha — bad money driving out good — Confucianism was looking more and more like a "Confucian religion," and Confucius was on the verge of being worshiped as a "Holy Son" or "Prophet."

Today, while ostensibly paying homage at the temple and honoring Confucius, his words showed a clear tendency to disbelieve the apocrypha. Kong Zhi dared not answer, but others who had likewise tasted the sweet benefits of deifying the ancient sages could no longer hold back. This great enterprise, which had yielded profits for over a hundred years, was not something easily abandoned.

"Your Majesty."

A white-haired old man stepped forward. He was the head of the Yan clan, one of the two great families of Qufu. They were the descendants of Yan Hui, and their status was second only to the Kong clan.

"Although the descriptions of Confucius's appearance and origins in the prophetic apocrypha of the Yan Kong Tu contain many exaggerations, the matter of Confucius's prescience and foresight is indeed true."

Diwu Lun had been afraid that all the scholars of Lu would be as slippery and evasive as the Kong clan. Seeing someone step forward, he smiled and said: "Oh? What matter is true? Sir Yan, please tell us about it."

Having said this, he also shot a glance at Huan Tan beside him: "Today we have many learned men present — let us all listen together!"

Catching that little look from Diwu Lun, Huan Tan suddenly understood everything.

"Your Majesty still claims, 'I harbor absolutely no ill intent toward Confucius' — so this is what you were waiting for!"

The old man Yan was heard reciting with a swaying head: "The weft texts say that my ancestor Master Yan (Yan Yuan) and Confucius together ascended Mount Tai in Lu. Confucius said, 'Climbing Mount Tai, one sees how small the world is.' Then he gazed toward the southeast and actually saw, a thousand li away, a white horse tethered outside the Chang Gate of Gusu, the Wu capital. He pointed it out for Master Yan to see, but Master Yan could only make out something like a white silk ribbon hanging outside the Wu Chang Gate."

"Confucius then gently stroked Master Yan's eyes with his hand, correcting his vision, and enabled him to see the white horse. However, after descending the mountain, Yan Yuan's hair turned white and his teeth fell out, and he subsequently fell ill and died."

"The reason for this, when investigated, is that his spiritual essence could not match Confucius's. He forced his own strength to its limit, his vital essence was utterly exhausted, and therefore he died prematurely."

After hearing this, Diwu Lun inwardly exclaimed, What a guy. He had still underestimated the weft texts. They had even conjured up ocular techniques. This Confucius could see a thousand li and even transmit his power — and the transmission of power caused his chief disciple's spiritual power to collapse under the strain, leading to his death. This was no longer wuxia; it had advanced into xuanhuan! These vulgar scholars who dabbled in prophetic apocrypha were truly wasting their talent by not writing novels.

Yet the old man Yan believed this with unwavering faith and repeatedly stressed: "This is a matter handed down from generation to generation by my ancestors — how could it be false?"

"How marvelous." Diwu Lun clapped his hands in a show of wonder and once again looked toward Huan Tan: "Minister Junshan, the 'Thousand-Li Lens' that I ordered skilled craftsmen to make can only see a thousand paces away. Who would have thought that five hundred years ago, the Sage Confucius had already cultivated a pair of thousand-li eyes!"

Huan Tan now understood that Diwu Lun was signaling him to step in. He had more or less figured out Diwu Lun's purpose: he was to enter the arena and debate this old man Yan.

Although he felt rather like a sword being wielded by Diwu Lun, Huan Tan was an early materialist who did not even believe that the soul survived after death, and he had always scoffed at prophetic apocrypha. He did not believe a single word of the fantastic tale the old man Yan had recounted so vividly.

Thus Huan Tan played along with Diwu Lun and responded: "Your Majesty, your servant can recite the text of the Analects, and such words do not appear in it. Reflecting again on the commentaries to the Six Classics, there is no such saying there either. From this it can be seen that this story is nothing more than something a rustic village boor casually fabricated to draw attention — it is not worthy of belief!"