Chapter 287: You Dare Use Poison, Do You? I'll Beat You to Death!

In the Hexi Military Governor's headquarters, within Zhang Zhao's residence, a small mourning hall had been prepared. Zhang Zhao, dressed in plain hemp mourning clothes according to the rites of a grandson-in-law, was offering incense.

Cao Yanlu had been in Liangzhou barely five days when grievous news arrived from Shazhou: on the seventh day of the ninth month, Cao Yijin, who had lain bedridden for a full half year and more, had passed away in the Qingxi Palace.

Compared with history, Cao Yijin had lived about a year and a half longer. Zhang Zhao often reflected that the greatest reason Cao Yijin had been able to outlive his historical span by more than a year was probably the pact between him and Zhang Zhao — Cao Yijin had been waiting for Zhang Zhao to return, to fulfill his wish of being buried back in Qiao Commandery.

"The coffin of the Great King Linggong is to be kept at Lingyuan Temple in Shazhou and not interred. Returning to his native place, to be buried in the ancestral tombs of the Cao clan of Qiao Commandery — that was his most important wish!"

After the rites were finished, Zhang Zhao led Yin Yaozi and a few others out. Cao Yanlu spoke in a low voice beside him.

That Zhang Zhao was not required to observe mourning for him had been specially instructed by Cao Yijin before his death, precisely for fear of hindering Zhang Zhao's plan to seize Hexi.

At the same time, even for direct grandsons like Cao Yanlu and Cao Yanming, Cao Yijin had said before his death that they need only observe mourning for seven days.

For the ancients, who regarded matters after death as supremely important, not allowing his descendants to observe mourning for him counted as an enormous sacrifice.

It also showed how intense Cao Yijin's longing was to open the Ganzhou-Liangzhou route and return to his homeland.

Therefore, all matters within the mourning hall were handled by Lady Cao Sanniang, while Zhang Zhao and the others could free themselves to get on with their work.

"Shisi, you don't look well. Why not go and rest a while?"

Cao Yanming, Cao Shisi, was right beside Zhang Zhao. This year he had been due to marry Li Shengtian's second daughter, Princess Tianxi, but it now looked as though that would fall through — he would have to wait at least until the year after next.

"No need. I was only thinking a little of my father." With that, Cao Yanming turned to look at Zhang Zhao.

"My father is no longer young, and he has long suffered from a lung ailment. With the anger I caused him this time, I don't know whether his health will collapse."

Standing in Cao Yanming's position, it was indeed very difficult: on one side was his own father, and on the other the cause and ideals for which he strove.

"Then why not go back to Dunhuang for a few months, explain things to your father, and spend more time with him? Perhaps that could untie the knot in his heart."

Zhang Zhao considered it. Although he could not do without Cao Yanming at present, matters between father and son were still best resolved early; he could not let Cao Yanming carry this knot in his heart the whole time.

After a brief silence, Cao Yanming shook his head. "I have already had Su Niang carry a letter back to my father. As for me, the Works Office and the Fire Thunder Office still cannot do without me.

What is more, I know in my heart that you, Commander, are the one in the right. If my father and his faction are allowed to keep holding power, sooner or later we will all turn into barbarians."

Su Niang was the only concubine Cao Yanming had not dismissed after his betrothal to Li Shengtian's second daughter. She could be counted as the person closest to Cao Yanming, and Cao Yanming's eldest son by a concubine was born of Su Niang, so she had surely gone back to Shazhou together with the child.

This was Cao Yanming baring his heart to Zhang Zhao: no matter what happened, he would stand with Zhang Zhao.

Zhang Zhao patted Cao Yanming's shoulder with emotion. He understood the complicated feelings in Cao Yanming's heart at this moment, but he also believed that Cao Yanming would inevitably make the right decision.

Because the cause he was undertaking was not the cause of Zhang Zhao alone. Opening the Ganzhou-Liangzhou route, returning to the homeland, and even restoring the rivers and mountains — this was the common wish of all of them, the surviving sons of Tang of Anxi and Hexi who had fallen amid barbarian dust.

"Liulang, you must keep a firm watch on Kang Jinshan and the Sogdian merchant guild for me. Although they have lost their state, and most of them regard the Central Plains as their motherland,

the greedy nature of merchants still warrants vigilance. On the road to profit, they will not maintain too high a moral bottom line.

You must remember: you are not going to cooperate with them, but to manage them. Whoever dares not abide by the rules and the laws — those who should go to prison go to prison, and those who should be killed are killed."

After comforting Cao Yanming, Zhang Zhao turned to instruct Cao Yanlu. Toward the Sogdian community, Zhang Zhao maintained a certain wariness.

But the greater part of that wariness stemmed from the greedy nature of merchants.

As for the Sogdians banding together into a huge power, like the Xiongnu and other peoples who migrated inward during the Han and Jin periods, Zhang Zhao was not especially worried. Historically, the Sogdians had never once joined together as a bloc.

Moreover, their culture emphasized reckoning profit even between father and son — that is, even between father and son accounts must be settled clearly.

This meant that a Sogdian family was basically a small patrilineal household, and it was very difficult for them to grow into a great clan like those of the Han people.

For example, among the Sogdians of Liangzhou, the Kang family of Kang Jinshan and his kin could not really be called a clan; it ought rather to be called a joint-stock company.

Nor was everyone in the Kang family surnamed Kang. There were An, Shi, He, and even Cao surnames among them. Their purpose in banding together was simply to make it easier to monopolize the commerce of the He-Huang valley.

For the time being, Zhang Zhao could tolerate such behavior. After all, he still needed to bleed these merchants. And even if one occasionally grew too large, that was easy to handle: whichever house grew too large, that house would simply be broken up.

Eighty li southeast of Liangzhou city stood a small town called Herong Fortress; in later times this area belonged to Gulang County under Wuwei.

Herong Fortress sat wedged between Liangzhou and Lanzhou, its geographical position extremely important. It had always been the key route from Liangzhou into Longxi.

After the Wenmo occupied the place, Herong Fortress's military standing declined somewhat, but its economic standing rose.

It became a flourishing town on the territory of the various Wenmo divisions, and each division sent people into the town.

The sheep-and-horse market north of the town was extraordinarily lively. Traveling merchants from south and north, and the farmers and herders on the territory of the Liugu division, all bought and sold here, exchanging what they had for what they lacked.

And right outside the most luxurious eating house in the sheep-and-horse town, a high platform had been erected. On it stood a dark-faced burly man in silk clothes, a gong in one hand and a mallet in the other, beating and shouting at once.

Sixteen-year-old Wen Chongle was a member of the Liugu division of the Wenmo. His Wen family had few members and mainly attached themselves to the Huangyang division of the Huangyang River valley.

Such were the Wenmo people. In truth, here it no longer mattered who was Han, who was Tuyuhun, who was Qiang, Tangut, or even a Tibetan reduced to slavery.

Because their identity was not distinguished by ethnicity, but by status.

When the Tibetans were strong, they had all been subordinate slave divisions of the Tibetans. And after the Tibetan regime collapsed, the central authorities of the late Tang and Five Dynasties either deliberately ignored them or lacked the strength to draw them back into the great family of the sons of Tang.

The six Wenmo divisions could only band together, using the strengthened identity of "Wenmo" to achieve unity and mutual recognition.

Thus within the Liugu division, there were small Tuyuhun and Qiang tribes attached to the Han Shen and Zhao families.

And there were also small Han families attached to large Tuyuhun and Qiang tribes.

The boundaries between peoples were being steadily eroded, replaced by the common attribute of being Wenmo.

Wen Chongle listened carefully. It seemed the man on the platform was telling the Complete Tales of the Great Tang Heroes. At once he perked up, handed the herding whip in his hand to his little brother, and eagerly ran toward the high platform.

The little brother behind him pouted with great reluctance. Ever since Zhang Zhao had entered Liangzhou, several hundred copies of the Complete Tales of the Great Tang Heroes had been sent out to every place, free of charge.

Combined with the several dozen storytellers Zhang Zhao had deliberately trained, they had finally been put to use, and the Complete Tales of the Great Tang Heroes had instantly spread everywhere.

After the meeting at Mingwei Garrison Fort, the reason Zhang Zhao had not immediately made contact with the six Wenmo divisions

was, first, that he was waiting for Guo Tiance and Yang He to complete negotiations with the Buddhist establishment of Liangzhou, so as to use the Buddhist name to place a tightening band upon the various Wenmo divisions.

And second, he was waiting for the soft power of the Complete Tales of the Great Tang Heroes and the like to begin influencing the various Wenmo divisions.

On the high platform, the robust storyteller struck the brass gong with a clang and shouted in cadenced tones.

"Now it is told that Luo Cheng took the command arrow, sprang up, and made to leave. Luo Chun hastily seized him and said: 'My lord! The wounds from your caning have not yet healed — how can you go kill rebels?' Luo Cheng said: 'I know only to serve the state and kill rebels; how can I spare a thought for my own body? I shall go, and it will be no hindrance.'

Luo Chun said: 'Since my lord insists on going, and you have not eaten today, will you not take some wine and food before you go?' Luo Cheng, trusting in his own valor, did not heed Luo Chun's words. He took up his spear, mounted his horse, and rode straight for the Purple Gold Pass."

It turned out the storyteller had just reached the passage where Luo Cheng's horse tramples into the Muddy River. The entranced crowd below sensed that disaster was coming; of course, some who had heard it countless times before were loudly cursing Luo Cheng's misfortune.

"In the end he was too young. If he had not eaten and drunk his fill before going into battle, how could he hold up through several hard fights? If he had had the strength, even with his horse bogged down in the Muddy River, he could have cast off his armor and still escaped."

"I say the Duke of Yue should never have gone to this Purple Gold Pass. That filthy Second Prince is clearly out to harm him. If it were the Prince of Qin, serving the country and killing rebels would make sense, but the Yin and Qi princes treat him like a pig or a dog — why die for them?"

The storyteller was experienced enough to know that at moments like this, he should pause on his own and give the audience time to discuss.

This was an idea Zhang Zhao had picked up from the "readers' comments" sections on Qidian in his later life — it gave the audience a stronger sense of immersion and participation.

But Wen Chongle was beside himself with impatience, because he had not heard this part before. Although Zhang Zhao had distributed over a hundred copies of the book and trained dozens of storytellers, they were, after all, in an environment where the vast majority of people could not read.

Many people here had heard a section in one place and two fragments in another, leaving their knowledge hopelessly broken and incomplete.

The people buzzing in discussion knew the plot, but Wen Chongle did not. Right now he had no interest in discussing anything; he only wanted to know as quickly as possible what had happened to Luo Cheng.

"You dog slaves! One more word of noise, and I, Du Lun Chixin, will beat you to death!"

Fortunately, Wen Chongle did not have to suffer long. A big man built like a mountain, dressed in a magnificent fur robe, leaped out — none other than the young clan head of the Du Lun family, a powerful house in this city of Herong.

The Du Lun family was no ordinary house. The character "Lun" showed that they had once held office during the time of the Tibetan btsanpo, while "Du" showed that they had the blood of sons of Tang in their veins.

In the old days, when Lun Kongre, the Campaign Commissioner of Luomenchuan, ruled this region, the Du Lun family had already been an aristocratic house. Now they were even more formidable.

Du Lun Chixin's roar fell on the crowd like a bucket of ice water, dousing their enthusiasm for discussion, and the storyteller on the platform seized the chance to continue.

Luo Cheng gave chase close behind, pursuing for a full twenty li. When he reached the Yuni River, he suddenly saw Liu Heita sitting alone on the opposite bank, laughing loudly: "Luo Cheng, today you are surely doomed!"

At the sight, Luo Cheng flew into a rage. Abandoning Xu Yuanlang, he charged straight at Liu Heita, spurring his horse forward — and with a great splash, he plunged into the Yuni River.

The riverbed was all mud, without a single drop of water, so it seemed passable enough. Who would have known that it would trap the horse's legs so that it could not rise?

In the reeds along the bank lay two thousand archers in ambush. At the sound of a watchman's clapper, arrows fell like rain. Luo Cheng cried out, "I have fallen for Xu Yuanlang's scheme!" The arrows struck home from every side, and in an instant he was dead.

The storyteller had finally reached the climax, but Zhang Zhao had made one small revision here.

The original book had blackened Su Dingfang beyond all recognition. Zhang Zhao naturally could not let that stand, so Xu Yuanlang, who had risen in support of Liu Heita, took the blame instead.

The one who lured Luo Cheng into the Yuni River was changed from Su Dingfang to Xu Yuanlang.

"Ah! Heaven strike them! If I had lived in those days, I would surely have beaten those filthy princes to death!"

Du Lun Chixin was hearing this part for the first time too. He felt as though a knife were twisting in his heart, and his fury erupted like a mountain fire. With a howl, his first instinct was to find the storyteller and have a word with him.

"Injustice! Heaven is unjust! How could the Duke of Yue die so wretchedly? Those treacherous curs are truly hateful!"

Wen Chongle could not take it either. He considered himself rather handsome and had always cast himself as the dashing Luo Cheng.

The earlier chapters he had heard were all about how Luo Cheng stood like jade in the wind, won beautiful women, cut down enemy generals, and earned glory.

Now, all of a sudden, it had come to Luo Cheng's death. How could he accept that? Wailing, he leaped onto the platform in a single bound.

Oh crap!

This is bad! I'm going to get beaten!

The storyteller had been through this kind of scene more times than he could count, and one look told him trouble was coming.

Tall and burly as he was, he moved with great agility. The moment Du Lun Chixin and Wen Chongle stepped onto the platform, he flung his bronze gong aside with a clang and bolted for the backstage.

Unfortunately, he had miscalculated today. The two who had jumped up were both martial experts, and before long, they had caught him.

The stunned audience below could only hear the thud of fists striking flesh and the storyteller's screams.

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