Chapter 245: Clean and Hygienic

Three days — in only three days, Prayaga, the most important river-defense stronghold of the Parihara dynasty on the upper Ganges, had fallen into Zhang Zhao's hands.

It was a great city of more than two hundred thousand people, surrounded by farmland that, by the standards of the entire Ganges basin, was exceptionally rich.

At this time, in fact, Prayaga did not refer to a single city alone, but to the city together with a dozen or so large and small towns around it, all collectively called Prayaga.

The men sent out to occupy those towns had not yet returned to report the details, but Zhang Zhao estimated that, counting the rural population, it could not be less than eight hundred thousand.

The territory was only a third of Li Shengtian's original Khotan golden kingdom, yet the population already exceeded a hundred thousand — and they could still afford to support it.

At the very least, the standard of living of ordinary city-dwellers in Prayaga was above that of Zhenyuan City (Udabhandapura), and above that of the Khotan royal city as well.

It was only when he saw that majestic Ashoka pillar that Zhang Zhao remembered: this place should be the later Indian city of Allahabad.

The famous Kumbh Mela — that festival where people take a big water pot, stand in the clean and hygienic Ganges, and pour water over their own heads — was held at Allahabad.

But at this time, the Ganges truly deserved to be called clean and hygienic: the water was clear, the current slow and gentle, and on both banks fine fields spread in a checkerboard pattern. The Ganges really was like a gentle, kindly mother.

Though he was not a man of India, Zhang Zhao, standing by the Ganges, actually felt something of that soft, quiet beauty strike him.

No wonder later Indians regarded the Ganges as their mother river — this was truly no figure of speech, but a solid fact.

It was just that they seemed only to keep mother on their lips, and showed not the slightest mercy when it came to polluting her.

"Someone come — help me change my clothes!" Zhang Zhao stood by the river, stretched out both arms, and shouted.

As a sovereign, he had certainly not come to the banks of the Ganges merely to brood over past and present. He had come specially, according to Brahmanical rites, to perform a ceremony and win the people's hearts in the manner of a king.

Half of Prayaga's Kshatriyas had been taken by the Parihara king Krishira II on his campaign against the Pala dynasty.

The remaining Kshatriyas, when Prayaga fell, had — at Zhang Zhao's instruction and carried out by the Shunyi Left Army — for the most part been killed outright.

The Great Khagan Zhang had not carried out a great slaughter in the Shahi kingdom, killing only a little over two hundred Kshatriya families. That was because he wanted to make the Shahi dynasty's land a forward post for future harassment of India, and to bind the Shahi's native nobles to his war chariot.

So he had chosen to stay his hand, and had even shared a little of the soup and scraps with them.

But toward the Kshatriyas and some of the Brahmins of the Parihara dynasty, Zhang Zhao would show no such mercy.

If he did not execute them, where would the Great Khagan Zhang find the hundred thousand-plus laborers to be carried off to Ningyuan? Where would he find the gold and silver to reward his great army, and the wealth to establish his enterprise in Hexi in the future?

More importantly, only through this activity of destroying the old nobility and establishing a new nobility could he win over the local people's hearts, and put a stable rear area in order for the great decisive battle to come.

With a wave of the Great Khagan Zhang's hand, two Brahmin girls of sixteen or seventeen came walking over with a graceful, swaying gait.

At the age of blossoms, their skin was white as milk, and the fair little arms revealed by their red-and-yellow robes looked as though a pinch would bring out water.

The swaying of their slender waists was just the right amplitude, supple as water, making one's heart thump-thump.

The two Brahmin girls removed Zhang Zhao's robes piece by piece, until nothing remained but his calf-length underpants.

Cool, sleek fingers brushed across the Great Khagan Zhang's chest; the faintly cold touch was extremely pleasant, and nearly made Zhang Zhao moan aloud.

He shot a hard look at the girl on his left. She was not at all afraid of Zhang Zhao's aggressive gaze; instead, she pretended to be a little bashful, gave a soft, lovely smile, and then lowered her head.

As she lowered her head, her body sank down with it, and the position of her crimson little mouth happened to come level with Zhang Zhao's groin. Her other hand, as if unintentionally, swept lightly downward along Zhang Zhao's waist and ribs.

Looking down from where Zhang Zhao stood, the kneeling girl revealed a length of fine, delicate neck. On her slightly forward-tilted face, her small nostrils flared and contracted, and that fine breath, tingling and numbing, brushed against the Great Khagan Zhang's hipbone.

This little man-killing sprite — barely high-school age, and she already knew how to seduce a man like this. What would she become when she grew up? No — she was already beyond belief right now!

The Great Khagan Zhang, whose self-control had always been rather good, finally could not help sucking in a breath of cold air. Ever since leaving Shule, Zhang Zhao had been living as a vegetarian.

The only one he had taken in along the way was the little loli Saifiye, who was not yet old enough to be eaten. Holding it in until today, he was truly about to snap.

For a split second, Zhang Zhao truly wished he could just be a debauched ruler and be done with it — then he would not have to keep so many rules.

Because as a sovereign — especially a sovereign in the founding stage — every roll in the bed, every pillow-side companion he took in, carried a price tag.

At this stage, he had to restrain certain desires. He could not return to Hexi with a harem already numbering a dozen and more women.

Many positions in his harem, and even many positions for his sons and daughters, had to be saved for after he entered the Central Plains.

So while the brave warriors under him enjoyed beauty after beauty — many of them able to pull up their trousers and deny all responsibility, enjoying the treatment due a conqueror — the Great Khagan Zhang was truly living as a grass widow!

When he thought that even a simpleton like Manxiong had already had his way with seven or eight women, reveling every night, the feeling was truly beyond words!

Fortunately, however, as Zhang Zhao walked slowly toward the Ganges, his eyes caught sight of a fellow wearing an equally bitter expression.

The supervisor of the Fire Thunder Office, deputy director of the Prince's Palace Works Section — Cao Yanming, Cao Shisilang.

This gentleman was just as miserable as he was, because Li Shengtian had already promised to marry his second daughter, Princess Tianxi, to him. So Cao Yanming had likewise lost the right to pluck at will, and could only watch and drool.

Seeing that she had not succeeded in seducing the "strong-willed" Juerhan, a faint disappointment floated onto the Brahmin girl's face. But she keenly sensed that Zhang Zhao had glanced backward.

So, following Zhang Zhao's gaze backward, the Brahmin girl smoothly found the place where His Majesty the Juerhan's line of sight had just landed.

It was a man of the Eastern Tang who looked very strong and also very handsome. It was said he was a Brahmin who could call down divine thunder from Lord Shiva, and also the Juerhan's nephew — a person of very exalted status.

Mm! This target was not bad either. In any case, hooking up with a noble close to the Juerhan would also fulfill the task her family had given her, and preserve the family estate.

The girl gave Cao Yanming a sweet smile, and even nodded lightly.

"Go to hell!" Cao Yanming groaned, and tears came gushing out at once!

"Help!" he groaned, involuntarily clamping his legs together. A little foreign beauty of this quality — to say she could topple a city or a kingdom was surely too much, but she was absolutely one in ten thousand. Apart from the Great King, who could withstand this?

He had already been rather wild and unrestrained in his way of life back in Shule, and precisely because of that, he was all the less able to resist this temptation.

Or maybe... Cao Shisi felt the defenses in his heart were about to collapse.

"Heh heh!" Just then, a half-smiling, half-mocking snort came from beside him.

"You dog!" Cao Yanming cursed through gritted teeth. The one making that "heh heh" sound was Ma Jirong, chief general of the Khotan Palace Guard and Troop Commander of the camp.

This dog was the Great Sage Son of Heaven's trusted man, so of course he would report the movements of this prospective imperial son-in-law to the Great Sage Son of Heaven.

"You dog!" Cao Yanming cursed again, though whether at himself or at Ma Jirong, it was hard to say.

In any case, at this moment, I, the great inventor Cao, felt the malice of the whole world pressing in on him. He decided that tonight he would move into the workshop and live with the workers, and would not go out no matter who called.

Otherwise — otherwise, if a little foreign beauty of that quality lowered herself to seduce him, who the hell could withstand it?

'Slurp!' Seeing that he had successfully frightened Cao Yanming, Ma Jirong's saliva was nearly dripping.

He was not bad either! A trusted man of the Great Sage Son of Heaven, he had followed the Great King on campaigns north and south for nearly two years with a thousand elite armored soldiers, and his looks were still passable. This little foreign beauty could come and seduce him too!

Just as the group on the bank was stirred by lustful thoughts, Zhang Zhao, following the rites, had already immersed his entire body in the Ganges three times.

A fat, bulky Brahmin priest stood downstream from Zhang Zhao, and behind him stood a group of priests in much the same attire — the highest-ranking Brahmins of the entire city of Prayaga were all here.

In his hands the fat priest held a crown studded with gems — the crown of the king of the Kingdom of Prayaga, which had once ruled this region and had warmly received the Tang monk Xuanzang, before being annexed by the Parihara dynasty.

The priest had intended to place it on Zhang Zhao's head himself, but Zhang Zhao did not lower his head as expected; instead he stared straight at him with a meaningful look.

After a few breaths, just as Zhang Zhao was growing impatient, the bulky priest had a sudden flash of insight and understood why. He hastily placed the crown onto a wooden tray decorated with fine silk and flowers.

Only then did Zhang Zhao nod, casting the bulky priest a look that said "the boy is teachable," and reached out to pick up the crown himself, setting it upon his head.

Then he took a glass cup from another tray, scooped a cupful of clear water from the upper reaches of the Ganges, and raised it to his lips.

The crowd on the bank dropped to their knees with a roar. The only ones left standing in the entire scene were Zhang Zhao and the dozen or so Brahmins in the water behind him. After a moment's hesitation, Zhang Zhao drank a large mouthful of the water from the glass cup.

Mm! Ice-cold and refreshing, clear and sweet, without the slightest off taste.

His childlike playfulness stirred, Zhang Zhao raised the cup, still half full, and laughed twice toward the crowd on the bank, then said something no one could understand.

"Clean and hygienic, brothers!"

What Zhang Zhao did not know was that this act would deeply influence his descendants in later generations. Whenever the kings of the Zhang clan of India ascended the throne in ages to come, they would each drink a cup of Ganges water and cry out: "Clean and hygienic!"

Though the kneeling crowd on the bank had no idea what Zhang Zhao meant, they all laughed along obligingly.

Then Zhang Zhao walked toward the bank and poured the remaining half cup of water directly over the head of a dark, fat man kneeling at the water's edge.

"I bestow upon you water from heaven, to wash away your dust and grime. May you know loyalty and righteousness, and ride before your king!"

"Yu Deshui! I kowtow in thanks for the Great King's heavenly grace!" The dark, fat man pronounced the name "Yu Deshui" in an extremely awkward accent.

This was the first Kshatriya converted by Zhang Zhao's Sanskritization — the Bagari family henceforth became the Yu clan, raised from Shudra to Kshatriya!

That night, the Great Khagan Zhang, with no other outlet for his energy, coaxed and wheedled the little loli Saifeiye into his hands.

But he could only hold her in his hands. A little loli, after all — clear-voiced and soft-bodied, but not to be pushed down. The greatest pleasure lay in the satisfaction of raising her, and in the little loli's own clever mischievousness, even her playful troublemaking.

If he actually pushed her down, that feeling would be lost — and of course, the bigger reason was that this was a fourteen-year-old little loli!

The Great Khagan Zhang never hesitated to kill, and was quite the beast, but he was not beastly to that degree.

After indulging his hands for quite a while, Princess Saifeiye seemed to sense something too. Her cheeks flushed, she looked at a certain Khagan whose eyes gleamed with the light of a big bad wolf, found an opening, and with a giggle scurried away like a little hen.

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