Chapter 225: Every Five Hundred Years a True King Must Arise

Qadir was fighting with someone — specifically, that "someone" was his brother-in-law.

Because just after morning roll call, Qadir had heard news like a bolt from the blue: his sister had been sent by the brother-in-law before him to serve the warriors of the Juer Khan.

That's right — sent, not taken by force by the dihqan, and all for two silver dinars.

For those two silver dinars, this beast in human form, his brother-in-law, had sent his sister off to others...

The unlucky brother-in-law had never imagined that a mild-mannered man could fight so fiercely once he went mad. Qadir, who usually hardly dared talk back even when scolded, had him pinned beneath him, fists raining down like drops of rain, beating him until he howled like a ghost and wailed like a wolf.

The burly neighbor stood beside Qadir, glaring at the brother-in-law's brothers, keeping them from coming over to help.

Others didn't know why Qadir had gone so mad, but the burly neighbor did.

Qadir's mother had died early, and the household chores were actually all handled by his sister.

From the age of seven or eight, the little sister had begun cooking, washing clothes, mending clothes, and making clothes for Qadir and their father, taking care of everything for the two men so they could go out and earn a living without worry.

One could say that this sister, five or six years younger than Qadir, had in fact been playing the role of Qadir's mother all along.

The more he hit, the more tears fell from Qadir's eyes.

What the burly neighbor didn't know was that it was precisely to take care of Qadir that the sister had missed the best age for marrying.

And the sister had originally not intended to marry this current brother-in-law; it was Qadir who, seeing that the other family was passable, had insisted on it with all his might.

In ordinary days, when his sister was beaten because she couldn't bear children, he had endured it, but now, he could endure no longer.

"Stop hitting! Any more and you'll beat him to death!" Just as Qadir's pain was growing worse and worse, someone grabbed his hand. He looked up and saw it was the burly neighbor.

Only then did he notice that the brother-in-law beneath him had been beaten until blood was coming from his mouth and nose and had already passed out, while not far away, the brother-in-law's brothers were clamoring and shouting, watching him with hateful eyes.

This is bad! Qadir's heart jolted, and as his anger began to recede, he knew he was in serious trouble.

The brother-in-law's family was not like theirs; they were a big clan who could produce a dozen strong men at any time.

He could beat his brother-in-law, but he couldn't possibly beat the brother-in-law's dozen brothers. The moment the burly neighbor wasn't around, he'd probably be beaten by a mob.

And besides, his sister was already married off; he couldn't protect her for her whole life. After beating the brother-in-law like this today, once his sister went back, wouldn't she be beaten to death?

Once he'd thought this through, Qadir stood up in a daze, his mind already churned into mush. Before his eyes flashed nothing but images of his sister being beaten, and he even began to tremble.

"Qadir! Qadir! The dihqan is asking you a question!"

By the time Qadir heard the burly neighbor's voice again, the dihqan in charge of the woodworkers was already standing before him in a fury.

Brawling with others, and then not answering even after being called five or six times — if it weren't that the Juer Khan was in the city and no one dared make a big commotion, Qadir would probably have been beaten until he was crawling on the ground by the dihqan's men by now.

"There's a general from the great country outside looking for you! Hurry up and come out with me!" The dihqan's face was full of disgust, and it made Qadir feel as though he'd fallen into an abyss.

Out of loyalty, the burly neighbor could block the brother-in-law's brothers for him, but he certainly wouldn't dare block the dihqan. Whoever offended the dihqan was as good as dead.

Hamid readily agreed to Zhang Zhao's request to recruit two hundred craftsmen. Never mind two hundred — as long as Zhang Zhao left quickly, Hamid would even give four hundred.

And he additionally provided another form of help: back in the day, there had indeed been quite a few Tang army captives as well as Han people who had voluntarily settled in Bukhara, and in the Ark Citadel of Bukhara, there were even records on them.

After all, these people had brought advanced techniques in textiles, papermaking, painting, and even mathematics to Bukhara and the entire Islamic world.

This further confirmed the Prophet Mahmud's famous saying: "Seek knowledge even as far as China!"

Although after losing their scholarly atmosphere, most of these descendants of the Tang people no longer possessed the superb skills of their ancestors, the records in the Ark Citadel still documented the circumstances of a great many descendants of the sons of Tang.

With the records to guide them, the goal became very clear. Zhang Zhao decided to take all of them away. Whether or not they still remembered their ancestors, Great King Zhang only needed a bond to strengthen their loyalty.

Qadir saw his sister. Compared to the forced smiles and the faint sorrow that had shown on her face ever since she married, his sister now actually revealed a trace of long-lost happiness and shyness.

Beside his sister stood a burly man who looked at first glance like no good person.

Hooked nose, triangular eyes, a long scar on his exposed arm, his right hand habitually resting on his waist, looking as if he might draw a blade and cut someone down at any moment.

"Qadir, this is... this is..." His sister blushed and started several times but couldn't finish. Yet judging from the shyness on her face, she wasn't the least bit afraid of this burly man.

"Qadir, do you know? Our ancestors really were people of Taugast." As she spoke, his sister glanced at the frightening burly man beside her.

"Liu Sheng — that was our ancestors' true name. We are not surnamed Qadir; we should be surnamed Liu! The Juer Khan is going to take us home. Let's go together!"

The burly man gave Qadir an extremely ugly smile. He probably meant to give him a "friendly" grin, but the feeling it gave was like a hungry wolf opening its drooling jaws at you.

"Hurry home and pack your things. Follow our Great King and you'll eat well and drink well. My name is Li Zaiyuan, fire chief of the Hanshan Du under the Great King. From now on, your little sister follows me!"

The burly man spoke in halting Uyghur. Qadir couldn't really speak it well either, but he could barely understand. With the help of gestures, Qadir figured out the situation.

The Juer Khan warrior his sister had gone to serve was this burly man, and she had been chosen on the spot.

The burly man didn't even mind that his sister had long been married and was willing to marry her. As for whether that brother-in-law with blood coming from his mouth and nose agreed — no one seemed to care.

While the two were talking, the former brother-in-law, his face covered in blood, was carried out by two men the dihqan had summoned.

Li Zaiyuan looked at this lady he'd fallen for at first sight, who was said to be a descendant of the sons of Tang, and a surge of jealousy made him curl his lip. Then he really did draw a short blade from his waist.

"How about... just cut off one hand and be done with it!" Qadir hesitated for a moment, then still spoke up to plead.

Li Zaiyuan was taken aback. He had only intended to cut off two fingers as a warning. He hadn't expected this brother-in-law to be so vindictive. Whatever — if he wanted a hand cut off, a hand it would be.

"Li... doesn't the Juer Khan need craftsmen? Let me choose them. I know which ones have real skill!"

Amid the former brother-in-law's shrill screams, Qadir suddenly felt a wave of relief. Leave Bukhara, and his sister would never have to suffer again. Perhaps returning to the land of their ancestors wasn't such a bad choice after all.

In the Ark Citadel, this was Zhang Zhao's tenth day since entering Bukhara, and matters were nearly settled.

Craftsmen, horses, silver coins, and supplies were all prepared. He decided to leave the day after tomorrow. If he didn't go soon, Hamid would probably go mad.

And before leaving, Zhang Zhao formally held a large-scale gathering, summoning most of the officers and warriors under his command.

Great bowls of wine, great chunks of meat, and fragrant little beauties — everyone would have a good time together.

"Great King, your servant Bai Congxin now believes!"

Zhang Zhao had just finished the wine in his bowl and was speechlessly watching Dunzhu hoist a fat woman who must have weighed at least a hundred and fifty or sixty jin high into the air and begin showing off, when Bai Congxin suddenly appeared before him holding a bowl of wine.

"Believe what?" Zhang Zhao gave Bai Congxin a strange look. Why did this fellow seem so mystical right now?

Bai Congxin suddenly dropped to one knee on the ground, staring excitedly at Zhang Zhao on the throne.

"Your servant has heard it said that every five hundred years a true king must arise. In former times, Emperor Taizong the Civil rose from the chaos of the late Sui, established the Great Tang, and unified the realm, winning the title of Heavenly Khagan. From Emperor Taizong the Civil's time to now is about five hundred years.

Now the Great King has risen from hardship, and in less than two years has already expanded his territory a thousand li, won the allegiance of many peoples, received the honored title of Juer Khan, and led thirty thousand elite troops, invincible in all directions."

"Samanid Persia, a mighty state of the Western Regions, with a population of six million and more than a hundred thousand armored soldiers — and now we need only six thousand heavenly troops to topple such a mighty state. This is proof enough that the Great King is the sovereign destined to rise after five hundred years!"

"Eh? There's such a saying too?"

Zhang Zhao, seated on the throne, stroked the beard that had finally begun to grow on his chin. "What you say does make sense, but if you flatter me like that, I'll get embarrassed."

"Captain Bai's words are excellent!" Guo Tiance also rose from his low desk and came to the center, nimbly dropping to one knee before Zhang Zhao's throne.

"In former days, Emperor Taizong the Civil Emperor came from a distinguished line, a pillar of the state, his ancestors holding the title of Duke of Tang.

The Great King's ancestor, Duke Zhang Xiaosong of Nanyang Commandery, was a renowned minister of his age. With a little over ten thousand rabble troops, he swept across Transoxiana. Now that the Great King stands sovereign over Bukhara, is this not following in his ancestor's heroic manner?

Moreover, the Great King's great-grandfather, the Grand Guardian, was a hero of the realm. Though trapped among the barbarians, he never lost his loyalty, and brought the Nine Bends of the Yellow River back to the Han — he too was a pillar of the state, exactly like the ancestors of Emperor Taizong the Civil Emperor!"

"Hey! That does seem right too! In terms of family background, Zhang Zhao's ancestors may not have matched the power of the Li family of Longyou, but in loyalty to the state, they surpassed them."

"In former days, when Emperor Taizong the Civil Emperor first received a noble title, it was as Duke of Dunhuang Commandery — the Great King's very ancestral land.

The armored warriors of Hanshan are matchless in valor, comparable to the elite Black Armor troops of the Civil Emperor of old. So the sovereign destined to rise after five hundred years is verified right here in the Great King!"

Flattery! Once the inspiration struck, there was no stopping it. Yang Shouli had a quick mind and instantly thought of another point of resemblance.

And the more he thought about it, the more it seemed — truly — a little too coincidental!

"Gentlemen, rise, quickly! If you go on, I shall become Emperor Taizong the Civil Emperor reborn. As for whether I am the sovereign destined to rise after five hundred years — I think it rests not on me alone, but on all of you, on whether we can remain of one heart and one purpose from beginning to end!"

Great King Zhang's face bloomed with smiles. He loved this spirit of wild association — but this was not the time to keep going. If they went on, would they not start directly urging him to take the throne?

Although Zhang Zhao had stopped his men's wild associations, everyone now looked at Zhang Zhao with different eyes.

The crowd seriously pondered the similarities between Great King Zhang and Emperor Taizong the Civil Emperor, and found there were indeed quite a few.

The same noble family background, the same heroic ancestors, both with deep ties to Dunhuang.

The same youth and prowess in battle, the same skill in managing armies, the same treatment of subordinates as brothers, the same refusal to let private concerns override public duty, and even greater care for the common soldiers, able to make men give their lives.

In the chaos of the late Sui, heroes rose together, warring endlessly, and the people suffered bitterly — so Emperor Taizong the Civil Emperor appeared, and the realm was at peace.

Now in the Central Plains, the great king's banner changes atop the city walls, worse than in the late Sui. Perhaps a sovereign of five hundred years truly is about to appear.

"Hahahaha! Great King, you are indeed the lord of Heaven's mandate! When you sit on the dragon throne of Daming Palace one day, then I, Man Xiong, will be the black-fiend Duke of E!

Seems I'll have to carry off a little lass from this Bukhara — that way I'll have a Lady Bai, and if I find a dark one too, the set is complete!"

While everyone else was pondering whether Zhang Zhao was the lord of Heaven's mandate, Man Xiong had already leapt ahead to the Complete Biographies of Great Tang Heroes.

The moment those words left his mouth, Wang Tongxin would not stand for it. He shoved aside the beauty beside him and jumped out.

"Great King, Man Xiong can't wield the paired maces — this black-fiend Yuchi Gong is clearly me, your humble general!"

"You damned stubby donkey! You dare contend with me!"

Man Xiong roared and threw a punch straight at his chest. Wang Tongxin, caught off guard, took the blow — how could he let it go? The two howled and grappled together.

Damn it! Zhang Zhao rolled his eyes helplessly. Every large banquet, once they'd drunk too much, it turned into this.

Either they all danced awkwardly together, or it became a full martial spectacle. Still, for all the fighting, they knew their limits.

Zhang Zhao was used to it. He would pretend to be angry in a moment and break it up.

Yan Jin did not go out to join the fun this time, but quietly glanced at Zhang Zhao.

If the Great King could become Emperor Taizong the Civil Emperor, then would he be the Little Mengchang, Duke of Hu, Qin Shubao? Or the Duke of Wei, Li Jing, on Lingyan Pavilion?

Spurred by the Complete Biographies of Great Tang Heroes that had swept all of Anxi, and inspired by one miracle after another, the hearts of those around Zhang Zhao had begun to change.

Their gaze was no longer confined to the small patch of the Guiyi Army and the Khotan Golden Kingdom.

All chapters have been cached for you. Download the APP to view.