Chapter 22: Descendants of Bai Xiaode

"Thus have I heard. Once the Buddha was in the Trayastrimsha Heaven, preaching the Dharma for his mother. At that time, from the immeasurable worlds of the ten directions, all the Buddhas beyond reckoning, and the great bodhisattvas and mahasattvas, all came to assemble."

The Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva Purvapranidhana Sutra, with its distinctive Buddhist cadence, rang out in a male-female chorus.

Because Zhang Zhao cast his mind back and suddenly realized he too could chant this sutra, which had been born in Khotan over a decade ago — it must have been a memory belonging to the original Zhang Zhao.

By this time, among the Uyghurs, apart from a portion of the Gaochang Uyghurs who still followed Manichaeism, the rest — the Ganzhou Uyghurs and the Kucha Uyghurs — had long since converted to Buddhism.

Likewise, the Tibetans on the Qilian Mountains, the Han people of Guazhou and Shazhou, the Tuyuhun, and the Long family of Suzhou all believed in Buddhism.

Moreover, Tibetan esoteric Buddhism was still in the process of taking shape at this time, and the Buddhism of the entire Hexi Corridor and the Western Regions was in a great era of constant collision and fusion. The Buddhist schools the people here followed were essentially the same — a Han-transmitted esoteric Buddhism almost never seen in later ages, also called Tang Esotericism.

So although the people present included Uyghurs, Han, and Tibetans, their faith was one and the same.

As Zhang Zhao and Lady Cao Sanniang chanted, more and more people began to join in, and the men, women, and children coming down from the temple of Zhang Yichao on the mountain had already begun quietly chattering and spreading word of the miracle of the Grand Guardian's divine manifestation up on the mountain. More and more people looked at Zhang Zhao with ever greater reverence — the Uyghurs included.

When the sound of hoofbeats came and the Uyghur braves who had gone out returned with their men, this was the scene they beheld.

Old people and children gathered together chanting sutras; some men were splitting firewood, for it was Uyghur custom to cremate the war dead; other women and men were carrying the wounded into the tents. Qi Xiahǔ's wife had even brought out precious honey and was simmering honey water.

They did not divide themselves into Uyghurs or sons of Tang, nor did they glare at one another with hostility. Even Qiongre Duojin, Geduo's trusted confidant, had had his wounds bandaged and was sitting dazed by the fire, warming himself.

It was... eerie, yet somehow it carried a sense of inevitability, as if the corpses flying through the air moments ago had all been an illusion.

The returning Uyghurs, taken aback, hastily dismounted and joined the crowd in chanting the sutra.

"Young lord, Bai Congxin has brought back the Taghan Geduo!"

As the chanting of the Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva Purvapranidhana Sutra came to an end once more, the burly Uyghur pressed his palms together and bowed to Zhang Zhao.

And on the horse behind him, the plump Geduo sat with his hair disheveled, no longer wearing the smug, self-satisfied look of the previous two days.

"Bai Congxin? The surname Bai? Are you a descendant of the royal house of Kucha? May I ask whether you are a descendant of the Grand Tutor to the Crown Prince and Military Governor of the Beiting Field Army, Lord Bai Xiaojie? Or of the Grand Guardian to the Crown Prince and Prince of Changhua, Lord Bai Xiaode?"

Zhang Zhao gave Geduo only a single glance, then found himself captivated by the burly Uyghur's surname.

The Bai family of the Kucha Uyghurs — this was a house of loyal ministers famed throughout the history of the Great Tang!

Back when the An Lushan Rebellion was put down, the King of Kucha, Bai Xiaojie, and his younger brother Bai Xiaode had both rendered tremendous service. Bai Xiaode in particular was a great general of the realm — a Uyghur who rose to be enfeoffed as a prince while still alive. A formidable man indeed!

A look of pride mingled with shame flickered across Bai Congxin's face. "In reply to the young lord, I am indeed a descendant of the Prince of Changhua, Lord Bai Xiaode."

Excellent! Zhang Zhao could not help cheering inwardly. These Uyghurs could be won over, because the stamp of the Great Tang had long since been branded into their very blood.

"You are the scion of heroes! The Prince of Changhua was a hero of the Great Tang, his renown spread across the four seas. How could his descendants...!"

Zhang Zhao struck the pose of a man unable to finish his sentence. The unspoken second half was: how could the descendants of Bai Xiaode have fallen so low as to become horse bandits? How could the descendants of Bai Xiaode have become enemies of the sons of Tang?

"I am ashamed beyond words!" Bai Congxin was utterly broken by Zhang Zhao's few sentences.

"The young lord does not know — my ancestors were carried off by the Tibetans to the Qilian Mountains. How could I still remember any of my ancestors' glory! I have failed my forebears!"

Zhang Zhao's heart was almost entirely at ease. Bai Congxin's reaction was already no different from a Han man's, and since he did not have a high nose and deep-set eyes, no one would object to calling him Han. The spark of civilization the Great Tang had planted in the hearts of the Kucha people over centuries still glowed within this man.

"Falling on hard times once does not mean you can never raise your head again. Brother Bai feels he has failed his ancestors — and how am I, Zhang Zhao, any different?

How heroic was my ancestor the Grand Guardian, yet by the time it reached his descendants, we nearly committed a grave error. If Brother Bai is willing to abandon evil, turn to good, and restore our ancestors' renown together with us, it is not too late!"

Zhang Zhao put on an expression of shared feeling, then pointed at Geduo, who sat awkwardly ignored on horseback. "How can the descendants of heroes live beneath a thieving slave!"

Zhang Zhao's original intent was to stir up Bai Congxin's ancestral pride and further distance him from Geduo.

To his surprise, Bai Congxin only grew more embarrassed. His expression shifted a couple of times, and he spoke with his head hanging low.

"Though I have never been able to stomach Geduo's words and deeds, he too is a descendant of the Prince of Changhua's elder brother. By seniority, he is my uncle."

Awkward. This bastard was actually a descendant of Bai Xiaode's elder brother. Though, thinking about it, it made sense — the Tibetans had relocated the Kucha Uyghurs to the Qilian Mountains to control them, and the Bai family was the royal house of Kucha. It was entirely possible that part of the royal family had failed to escape and been moved to the Qilian Mountains.

At that thought, Zhang Zhao rose to his feet and looked at Geduo on horseback.

"Geduo, out of respect for the Prince of Changhua as a hero of the realm, I will give you a clean chance today. I will not wear armor. If you can last half a quarter-hour under my hand, I will let you go!"

This was the grand plan Zhang Zhao had been working out in his mind. Today he had fought a hundred men alone and won a great victory, but in truth his armor and weapons had given him an enormous advantage. Without that armor, he would have died countless times over.

He understood this, and the Uyghurs certainly understood it too. So although Bald-Tiger Geduo's evil reputation was widespread, if Zhang Zhao killed Geduo in full armor in a one-on-one fight, people might still say the victory was not fairly won. But if I kill Geduo without armor, no one can say a word, right?

Old Zhang Zhong anxiously moved to speak up in protest, but Zhang Zhao shook his head to stop him. He still had some confidence in his heart — one look at Geduo's condition, and his unexpected choice to flee, told him all he needed to know.

Ten or twenty years ago this fellow might have been a hard man, but now that enormous belly and his lust-addled conduct proved beyond doubt that he was nothing but an old dog living on a hollow reputation. Against an old dog like this, Brother Chao was still quite confident.

"Brother Bai, please armor the Taghan Geduo!" Zhang Zhao clasped his hands toward Bai Congxin, then took the pointed hammer and hand shield (a rectangular infantry shield) that Yin Yaozi handed over.

"Wind! Wind! Great wind!"

Before the camp tents, this time there was no distinction between Hu and Han, no distinction between men and women, no distinction between old and young — all began to roar at the top of their lungs.

This was a duel between two chieftains, Zhang Zhao and Geduo — like a contest between an old wolf king and a new one on the steppe.

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