Chapter 243: The Heavenly Troops Were Myself All Along

Forging a correspondence, then pretending to be accidentally caught and finally leaking it — this was actually a rather clumsy scheme.

But Zhang Zhao never worried that the king and ministers of the Barihar dynasty would not believe it, because this was an open, aboveboard stratagem.

The Barihar dynasty and the Pala dynasty had warred against each other for over a hundred years; the contest for the city of Kanyakubja alone had been fought three times. Apart from deep blood feud and irreconcilable hatred, no other words could describe the relationship between the two sides.

So when the Barihar dynasty obtained these forged letters, they would not bother to verify their authenticity at all.

Even if there were only a one percent possibility, the Barihar dynasty had to take it seriously.

Gur Khan Zhang Zhao had already won a fearsome, ferocious reputation on the lands of the Shahi dynasty, entering Udabhandapura in just over a month.

This fighting strength was something even the Barihar dynasty, with twice the national power of the Shahi dynasty, could not ignore.

Then seizing the initiative to destroy the Pala dynasty before Gur Khan completely took control of the Shahi dynasty — or at least forcing the Pala dynasty to submit — and then using their vast territory to fight a war of attrition against Gur Khan, became the inevitable choice.

Things went exactly as Zhang Zhao had predicted. When King Krishira II of the Barihar dynasty in Kanyakubja received the news, he indeed did not verify its truth, and instead added even more speed.

He had these forged letters widely circulated among the Kshatriya ministers and warriors, swiftly winning support from top to bottom, and immediately began preparing to launch a war.

And when King Rajyapala of the Pala dynasty learned of the matter, he could only curse a few times toward the west, then begin preparing for war with tears in his eyes, because he knew this matter simply could not be explained.

In October, just as the Barihar dynasty's offensive against the Pala dynasty began, the first group of 3,500 highland Tajiks, who had marched for a full three months, finally arrived at the city of Udabhandapura.

Zhang Zhao held a grand welcoming ceremony for them. This land of India had nothing else, but the comfort of living as a lord here was absolutely unique in the entire world.

Even though the Dalits below could not eat their fill of wild vegetables mixed with coarse wheat and peas, the upper classes feasting and drinking freely was the norm.

Cao Yanmian's maternal uncle was a very tall, handsome middle-aged man, fair-skinned with a full face, and astonishingly six or seven parts similar in appearance to a Han person.

But the signs of mixed blood were already visible, and the Saka genes were still quite obvious — for example, his hair color and eye color had already changed.

Historically, when the Tang monk Xuanzang passed through this place, he recorded in the Great Tang Records on the Western Regions that the royal clan called themselves descendants of the Han sun and the heavenly seed, with appearances identical to those of China, yet the people under their rule mostly had the look of western barbarians.

It seemed that in the two hundred years since the Great Tang had left, the highland Tajik royal clan, having lost their advantage in appearance, had already begun intermarrying on a large scale with the Saka eastern Iranians under their rule.

This was inevitable. When the Great Tang flourished, the Han-sun-heavenly-seed, China-like appearance was certainly much more advantageous.

Once the Great Tang left and this advantage was gone, settling downward and at least achieving consistency in appearance with the people under their rule was the best choice.

Zhang Zhao finally understood where Cao Yanmian's somewhat strange Han accent came from — this uncle spoke with exactly that strange accent.

When pronouncing certain words, there was always a vague, muffled feeling, as if holding a stone in the mouth.

Once the two sides began talking, sure enough, the source of this convenient uncle's ancestors — specifically, his great-grandfather — learning Han speech had been problematic from the start.

The one who taught this great-grandfather Han speech was a garrison fort commander who claimed the surname Li, but whom everyone around him refused to acknowledge as surnamed Li.

As for why he could not even decide for himself whether his surname was Li — it was because this Commander Li's ancestor was descended from rebels, and strictly speaking was not even Han.

Commander Li was actually a Khitan. His ancestor's elder brother was that chieftain of the Khitan Dahe clan whom Empress Zetian, in her wrath, decreed be renamed from Li Jinzhong to Li Jinmie — "Li the Utterly Destroyed."

This man and his wife's brother Sun Wanrong rose in rebellion in the first year of Wansui Tongtian (696), beating Empress Zetian into a sorry, humiliated state.

In the end, Empress Zetian had to rely on the sheer national power of the Great Tang to put down this rebellion.

And after Li Jinzhong and Sun Wanrong successively met defeat and death, Commander Li's ancestor, though not executed, was exiled to Anxi, and finally settled at the Congling garrison, where Han people were desperately scarce.

Good heavens! The highland Tajiks' Han-language teacher was a Khitan rebel — truly absurd enough, no wonder the accent was so strange.

By the time the Congling garrison was abandoned and the entire Great Tang force withdrew, apart from the occasional appearance of a small number of Khotanese Han traveling merchants, they lost even the external environment for speaking Han.

Passed down generation after generation only within a small circle of a few hundred people, of course the accent was strange, and certain places were vague and muffled because they had already forgotten the pronunciations.

But Zhang Zhao was puzzled by one point: presumably a Khitan rebel like Commander Li should not have had much goodwill toward the Great Tang, right?

The Han officers of the Congling garrison, truth be told, probably had not treated the local natives with much gentleness either.

Then... for what purpose had these people, two hundred years after the Great Tang's withdrawal, still maintained within themselves a small circle that could speak Han to a certain degree?

The uncle glanced at Zhang Zhao with some embarrassment, hesitated for a few breaths, then set down the dining knife in his hand, a look of reminiscence appearing in his eyes.

"To answer the Great King: our branch of the family, in fact, after the Tibetans seized Stone City, wandered into the Han lands.

Our ancestors went to Dunhuang, and also to Liangzhou, and in the end even went to Chang'an to pay homage. Even returning to our homeland only came about after the former Military Governor Gao of the Four Garrisons drove out the Tibetans.

In more than ten years of wandering, our ancestors witnessed the splendor of the Great Tang, and when speaking of Chang'an, called it nothing less than a heavenly kingdom on earth.

Later, after the restoration of our state, they often could not forget it. Moreover, since we are descendants of the Han sun and the heavenly seed, from then on we have mostly called ourselves sons of Tang.

So the people of our royal clan began learning the tongue of the sons of Tang, and firmly believed that although the Great Tang had left, one day it would return. If any descendants could live to see that day, would glory and wealth not be theirs for the taking?"

This speech actually silenced Zhang Zhao. He had come from a later era, and in the hearts of most people of the interior, Anxi and Transoxiana had long ceased to be regarded as territory of the Central Plains dynasties. When people spoke of the realm being intact, they never counted those lands.

But in this era, ever since the Former Han, whenever the Central Plains dynasties grew powerful, they had always controlled the Western Regions.

After arriving in this era, he discovered that the various peoples of Anxi and Transoxiana, great and small, as well as the Han people who remained there, all believed that the eastward arrival of the heavenly troops was only a matter of time.

That Bughra Khan Satuq of the Karakhanid Khanate, whom Zhang Zhao had beaten so badly he even lost his queen, had descendants who had always called themselves Tafghaj Khans, clearly believing that the lands under their rule were Chinese territory, different from Persia.

But in fact, once the Great Tang left, the Central Plains dynasties were unable to return for eight or nine hundred years.

Thinking of this, Zhang Zhao let out a long sigh and smiled bitterly at this Han-sun-heavenly-seed uncle.

"If our ancestors knew from the underworld, they would surely be greatly disappointed today, would they not? Two hundred years, and still the heavenly troops have not marched east!"

"Why does the Great King say this?" The uncle stared wide-eyed at Zhang Zhao. "Have the heavenly troops not already arrived?"

"Arrived? What heavenly troops? Sent by whom?" Zhang Zhao jolted violently. Could it be that in the year and more since he left Khotan, the Central Plains dynasties had sent troops?

Had the timeline been disrupted? Or did someone know he had carved out a great swath of territory in Anxi and Transoxiana, and had come to steal the fruit?

"Are these heavenly troops not the Great King himself?" The Han-sun-heavenly-seed uncle suddenly rose from his seat, and with both hands raised in a solemn salute, knelt on one knee before Zhang Zhao.

"The Great King came from the east, and in three years recovered Shule, Suyab, and Ningyuan, extending the territory ten thousand li and exalting the valor of the sons of Tang. Now he brings his fierce, wolf-and-tiger army to overawe India — if this is not the eastward arrival of the heavenly troops, what is?

My family's ancestors' long-cherished wish was to wait for the eastward arrival of the heavenly troops, so that our clansmen might follow in their wake and enjoy glory and wealth. Now, summoned by the Great King, with a mere three thousand able-bodied men we govern four million people — what wealth and glory!"

Right! Holy shit! Zhang Zhao slapped his thigh. He had always thought of himself as coming to Anxi, Transoxiana, and India to build up strength, and had never once considered that in the eyes of others, he was the eastward-arriving heavenly troops!

The Ban Dingyuan and Chen Pohu of old, including his own ancestor Zhang Xiaosong, had not brought many men with them, but had relied on their own abilities and the prestige of the Central Plains court to accomplish the great feat of the heavenly troops arriving from the east and pacifying Anxi and Transoxiana.

At that time, Ban Dingyuan had brought thirty-six men. Zhang Xiaosong had gone alone to recruit the forces of various peoples. Even Chen Tang, who had the most men, had few true Han soldiers under his command, and had also relied on forging an imperial edict to levy local forces of various peoples. How similar this was to him, Zhang Zhao, coming from Dunhuang!

He had brought one hundred and seven men from Dunhuang, first destroying the Zhongyun state, then relying on the Khotan golden kingdom as his base, and in three and a half years had swept across Anxi and Transoxiana.

So the heavenly troops were myself all along!

"After hearing my uncle's words, the fog has lifted — so the heavenly soldiers Zhang Erlang was waiting for all along were none other than myself. Gentlemen!"

Zhang Zhao raised his cup and toasted all around to the officers of the Fengtian Army and the Khotan Palace Guard who had come to share the feast.

"These three years, with everyone united in purpose, sharing life and death, your great names are certain to be passed down in the histories for posterity! I, Zhang Erlang, salute you heroes and warriors!"

"Your humble generals salute the Great King! Great King, your might shakes Anxi and the river lands, far surpassing Ban Dingyuan and Chen Pohu!"

The atmosphere turned fervent at once. Chinese people, after all — even a low-ranking soldier — are quite fanatical about leaving their names in the histories.

Only after the mutual admiration society had praised one another for quite some time did Zhang Zhao wave a hand to stop the continued flattery.

He turned instead to look at his uncle, the Han-Ri Heavenly Seed, who was still on the ground. The uncle had not yet risen, and Zhang Zhao had not permitted him to rise.

Because the conversation that followed was not one between a convenient uncle and nephew, but between a sovereign and his vassal.

"I wonder how my uncle intends to govern this Zhenyuan Kingdom?"

"Your subject has resolved to lead the clan in converting to Brahmanism. A small number of the royal clan shall become Brahmins; the rest of the royal house and the brave, able-bodied men shall become Kshatriyas. Half of them shall govern the royal city, and half shall be stationed across the various regions.

At the same time, I shall win over the local Kshatriyas, making us equal with the native nobility, with no distinction between us, jointly governing the other castes of the realm."

This was the most basic of moves — standard practice for any strongman arriving in India. There was nothing worth discussing, and it was not what Zhang Zhao wanted to hear. So the uncle remained kneeling on the ground.

"Before doing any of this, your subject requests that the Great King dispatch several instructors skilled in the Han tongue. If our race, having migrated south, is to preserve its Brahmin and Kshatriya status in the future, it must learn the Han tongue.

Secondly, from now on, the consorts of successive rulers of the Zhenyuan Kingdom shall all be bestowed in marriage by the Great King. Lastly, your subject presumes to ask the Great King to bestow a surname upon my royal clan!"

Hmm! Quite perceptive. Zhang Zhao nodded. This was what he wanted.

Establishing an upper stratum in India that could speak the Han tongue — as a forward outpost for the future unification of the Central Plains, for continually meddling in Indian affairs, and for enfeoffing certain royal clans there — that was the very foundation upon which the Zhenyuan Kingdom could exist.

"The royal clan is granted the surname Zhang. The generational names shall follow the sequence 'uphold propriety, maintain righteousness, the realm enduring forever,' renewed every eight generations. Outside the royal clan, the surname Zhang is forbidden. All else is at your discretion."

"Your subject further beseeches the Great King to bestow a given name!"

"My uncle's family, for two hundred years never forgetting the great dynasty, is commendable in loyalty and righteousness. I specially bestow upon my uncle the character 'Zhong' — loyalty!"

"Your subject, Zhang Bingzhong, kowtows in gratitude for the Great King's bestowed name!"

A nephew-in-law bestowing a surname and given name upon his uncle — to later generations this would sound utterly fantastic, yet at this moment it was perfectly normal. All the more so since Zhang Bingzhong could hardly even be counted as Zhang Zhao's uncle.

Now that the Zhenyuan Kingdom was settled, what remained for Zhang Zhao was to wait for the right moment to fight through the Ganges River valley.

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