Chapter 164: Plotting Outside the Palace Gate

Titexigu had arrived outside the palace gate long ago to wait, and the dew had soaked his crimson-purple monk's robe.

But he did not care in the slightest. As long as he could drag Khotan into the arena of this religious war, he could endure any humiliation — even his own life meant nothing.

The prayer mat was soaked through with morning dew too, clammy and uncomfortable. Titexigu very much wanted to shift his position, but a powerful will helped him suppress his body's craving.

These thirty-odd years of monastic life, though hardly a tale of lonely lamps and ancient Buddhas, had by no means been spent in idle pleasure either.

A cold wind blew in from the west, raising goosebumps across the skin beneath his thin monk's robe, and the speed of Titexigu's low chanting of the sutras involuntarily quickened.

More than twenty years ago, he had been nothing but a young monk, yet he could never forget that day when the same cold wind had blown.

Twenty years ago, several hundred elite cavalrymen belonging to Arslan Khagan, seizing the last chance before Balasagun was completely surrounded, had escorted the khagan's wife and children in their flight toward Shule.

Once the khagan's wife and children had left, the Yabghus and begs in the city opened the gates, and everyone knelt humiliated on the ground to welcome the Persians into the city — even monks like himself were no exception.

Everyone had paid an enormous price for resisting the Persians. Countless Yabghu lords who had once sat high above others were dragged out and beheaded with a single stroke, while commoners and monks paid a hefty "life-money."

Great numbers of howling holy warriors seized the gold, silver, and Great Tang copper coins stored up in the temples, and even the gold leaf smeared on the Buddha statues was scraped away — though it was worth almost nothing.

Countless fellow disciples were beaten, some even killed, until the Persian governor gave the order to stop.

And after that, every year the temples of Balasagun had to pay the governor's residence a large poll tax that only infidels were supposed to pay, or else the governor's residence would not guarantee the safety of any monk.

That hellish scene was something Titexigu never wanted to live through again, and he knew that if the Persians broke through Balasagun once more this time, what awaited everyone would only be even crueler retribution.

"Master, apart from chanting the meanings of our Buddha's scriptures in ordinary times, how much do you know of matters of war?"

A leisurely voice sounded by his ear, and Titexigu, immersed in his memories, was badly startled.

At some unknown moment, a young man in a blue formal robe, with a full forehead, thick brows, and large eyes, had already come to stand beside him.

The young man held several large white steamed buns in his hands and was contentedly munching away, his bright, piercing eyes constantly sizing him up — curious, with just a trace of teasing in them.

"This benefactor, this poor monk has not eaten for a long while and is suffering from hunger. Might I beg one steamed bun to ease the fire of hunger in my belly?"

Titexigu recognized who this was.

The reason he had not reacted just now was simply that the person beside him was too young; he truly found it hard to connect him with the man in purple robes, a golden fish pouch at his waist, commanding several thousand armored soldiers — the Fengtian Commandery Duke of the Great Jin Kingdom.

Of course, this also had to do with the fact that today he, the great Commandery Duke Zhang, had not pasted on his false beard. In ancient times a full beard was considered handsome, and Zhang Zhao did not know why, but after transmigrating, everything on him grew — even a certain part grew — yet no beard ever came in.

So when he was not on the battlefield, he made a habit of fixing a false beard to his chin and cheeks. And indeed, once the beard was on, he instantly looked much more mature.

"Does this count as begging for alms?" Zhang Zhao handed Titexigu a steamed bun, speaking with a slight double meaning.

Titexigu accepted the steamed bun and slowly took a small bite, a look of reminiscence appearing in his eyes.

"This poor monk's lay surname is Yaoluoge. Everyone says it is a great surname, but from as far back as I can remember, I have never felt this surname bring me anything great. I was either treated as a rare commodity to be hoarded, or deeply feared and dreaded.

One year my grandfather committed a small offense — originally a matter of paying a few sheep and one cow — but in the end Arslan Khagan Bazir found all sorts of pretexts to punish him severely, and the family scattered.

In the crisis, my mother carried me to the great Buddha temple of Burana, and only thus did I escape calamity.

From then on I never saw my mother again. I grew up in the temple, from novice to monk to Dharma master, then abbot, and so on.

The temple is my home, my master is my father, my fellow disciples are my brothers. In this poor monk's heart, the temple has always been a sacred and peaceful place, and all who came were utterly reverent.

But, Commandery Duke, can you imagine it? A monk who had passed twenty years in such tranquility, suddenly discovering one day that a gang of utterly vicious men had burst into the temple, seizing gold and silver and wrecking the temple.

With my own eyes I saw the Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva statue before which I chanted sutras every day scraped of its gold lacquer and colors, standing dumbly before me like a plucked chicken or duck."

As he spoke, Titexigu suddenly set down the steamed bun in his hands, pressed his palms together, and muttered "sin, sin" several times in succession.

"It seems this matter left a very deep wound on the Master. From then on, did you resolve to resist the Persians' rule over Balasagun?" Zhang Zhao asked lightly.

Titexigu first nodded, then shook his head.

"This poor monk does not wish to resist anyone. But this poor monk also does not wish that even chanting a few lines of Buddhist scripture should require someone's interference, nor does he wish that in the future there will always be ferocious, evil-looking men charging into his temple to plunder and destroy it on a grand scale!"

That made things easier. Zhang Zhao nodded. Titexigu was not merely expressing his views on religion; he was also telling Zhang Zhao that he could leave the governance — or rather the administration — of Balasagun alone, so long as it did not interfere with the development of Buddhism.

"But even so, Master, there is no reason for you to lead your followers several hundred li on campaign to fight a reckless battle against the Muslims of Talas, is there? If you could firmly hold the city, perhaps there would still be something to be done."

Titexigu's face finally reddened, and he drew a long breath.

"This is precisely why this poor monk wishes to seek help from the Great Sage Son of Heaven, and I believe it is also why the Great Sage Son of Heaven sent the Commandery Duke here."

Zhang Zhao fell silent for a short while, as if pondering something, then shook his head.

"Does the Master know what a great power the Persian Samanid state is? Its people number in the tens of millions, its armored soldiers no fewer than a hundred thousand. My Khotan Jin Kingdom, with all its people, numbers only seven hundred thousand.

Moreover, Balasagun and Shule are separated by range upon range of snowy mountains and frozen rivers. Even if we gave our full support, we could not contend with them!"

"This poor monk has heard that below the walls of Polu Prefecture, Commandery Duke Zhang, with two thousand infantry, utterly routed Bughra Khan Saktu's twenty thousand elite cavalry. Everyone says the Commandery Duke is a young hero, very much in the manner of the Great Tang's Duke Zhuang of Xing.

And four years ago, Saktu, with barely ten thousand soldiers, took in succession more than ten cities including Balasagun, Kulan, Talas, and Baishui. The Samanids' tens of thousands of crack troops fled at the mere rumor of his approach.

Is the Commandery Duke inferior to a defeated foe of his? Can the Great Sage Son of Heaven and the Commandery Duke bear to see the hundred thousand and more believers of our Buddha in Balasagun suffer calamity once again?"

Titexigu's voice involuntarily rose a few degrees, tinged with puzzlement. He had already made it clear that he would give up the secular affairs of Balasagun and hand political power to Zhang Zhao — so why was Zhang Zhao still making excuses and stalling?

Was Balasagun really so lacking in appeal?

Zhang Zhao, his expression unchanged, swallowed the last piece of steamed bun, waited until Titexigu had calmed down, and then spoke in an unhurried manner.

"The Master truly does not understand military affairs. Four years ago Saktu was able to fight all the way from Balasagun to Baishui Hu City.

It was because this land was originally his ancestral homeland, and the soldiers under his command had followed him to restore the old capital and rescue their compatriots.

Such a righteous army, come to console the people and punish the tyrant, naturally had soaring morale and carried all before it!

Moreover, at that time the various city powers, including the Master, had long suffered bitterly under the Persians, and every one of them gave their utmost to help. Even the Muslims of cities like Talas inclined toward Saktu.

Some opened the gates from within, some spied out military intelligence, some transported grain and fodder. This was not Saktu making war on the Persians — this was the entire Western Karakhanid people fighting the Persians together with Saktu.

Look at today, by contrast: Balasagun and Talas slaughter each other's people, and a hundred li beyond Balasagun is no different from enemy territory.

Besides, I have only a few thousand men under my command — where would I get ten thousand soldiers to use? And even if I had ten thousand soldiers, could Balasagun, after half a year of continuous warfare, supply the military needs of a ten-thousand-strong army?"

Zhang Zhao's words were well-reasoned and well-grounded, and they immediately stunned Titexigu into silence. No matter how one looked at it, one had to admit that Zhang Zhao spoke sense.

Only after a long while did a look of despair appear on Titexigu's face. He closed his eyes and chanted a few lines of scripture, then looked at Zhang Zhao.

"Then according to the Commandery Duke, is Balasagun truly impossible to hold? Must these hundred thousand and more living souls only endure enslavement by a foreign race?

So be it! These mountains and these waters raised this poor monk. When the Persians come, this poor monk will return this fleshly body to these mountains and waters!"

Damn, I overdid it. Zhang Zhao's forehead twitched twice. He couldn't afford to actually scare this monk witless — he still needed the man's help.

After his mind raced for a moment, Zhang Zhao let out a long sigh and put on a deeply moved expression.

"Master, you face death with such equanimity and devote yourself wholly to the suffering masses of this world — truly admirable. I had thought to urge you to withdraw with me to Shule, but I see now you would never agree!"

As he spoke, Zhang Zhao's expression shifted twice, revealing a hint of words left unsaid. After struggling for a long moment, he suddenly slapped his thigh.

"So be it! If the Master is so noble, and I, Zhang Erlang, know only how to flee, would I not seem utterly despicable?

So what if the Persian Samanid realm is mighty? As long as the Master heeds my counsel, what is there to fear? I shall stand with you, Master, and save the common people of this land once!"

Titexigu had been on the verge of despair, because Zhang Zhao's analysis was sound — given the size of the Khotan Golden Kingdom and his own earlier missteps, there was no way to withstand the Samanid attack. Now, hearing Zhang Zhao say there was a way to fight after all, he was overjoyed.

"Duke Zhang is truly a hero!" He hastily praised Zhang Zhao first, then continued.

"The Duke says this humble monk should heed your counsel. What clever plan do you have? Please, instruct me."

Zhang Zhao pulled Titexigu down into a crouch, took out two stones, and placed them at opposite ends. Pointing to the smaller one, he said:

"This stone is Talas!" Then, pointing to the larger one: "And this is Balasagun."

With that, Zhang Zhao drew a line in the dirt with his finger connecting the two cities.

"Master, look. These two places are some eight hundred li apart. The terrain between is full of high mountains and narrow gorges, making transport difficult. If the Persian army comes from Talas, hauling grain will be a struggle.

They will surely intend to requisition grain along the way. If the Master can persuade the people living within three or four hundred li of Balasagun to withdraw east of the city — take what they can carry, burn what they cannot — and cut off the Persian army's grain sources along the road, that is the strategy of strengthening the walls and clearing the fields.

Then, when the Persian host reaches the walls of Balasagun, they will inevitably run short of grain, and so they will surely assault the city fiercely, hoping to break it and seize its stores.

With matters urgent and no time for a prolonged siege, they certainly won't have time to build large siege engines, so the difficulty of storming the city naturally doubles.

At that point, the Master leads the entire city's inhabitants in a desperate resistance, while I take men in and out of the western mountains to cut the Persian supply lines, harassing them day and night, killing small parties and driving off the rest.

If Balasagun can hold for a month, their army's morale will surely waver. With the city unyielding after long assault, withdrawal will be their only choice.

Then I will bring out all my elite troops and pursue them hard, and I guarantee not one Persian in ten will survive!

By then, never mind holding Balasagun — even retaking Talas and White Water Hu City would be easy."

Titexigu looked at Zhang Zhao with a complicated expression, not at all as ecstatic as Zhang Zhao had imagined.

"The Duke says 'strengthen the walls and clear the fields,' says 'desperate resistance' — do you know what price the people of Balasagun will pay for those two phrases?"

With that, he sighed deeply. "Enough! Enough! To drive off jackals, one cannot escape being wounded oneself. Rest assured, Duke, Titexigu will do his utmost to arrange it.

But to achieve this effect, we must have the cooperation of the Daqin Jingjiao monks.

Yet lately they have already been preparing to withdraw. This humble monk's persuasion has failed. Perhaps only if the Duke himself speaks with the two great Jingjiao worthies of their shared kinship might they be moved!"

"If even the Master cannot persuade them, what can a stranger from afar like me... Wait! Master, what did you say? I share kinship with the two great Jingjiao worthies?"

Zhang Zhao was startled. Yesterday he had noticed that the Jingjiao worthy of dignity, Xuanqing, looked very much like a Han person.

Could it be?

"The Duke did not know?" Titexigu glanced at Zhang Zhao in surprise.

"This humble monk heard that the Duke is a son of Tang from Dunhuang. Of the three great Jingjiao worthies in Balasagun, two — Dignity and Prudence — are both sons of Tang from Shule!"

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