Chapter 458: Milk Khan, Is It?

Electing a Great Khan — in later ages, this was often regarded as being much the same as paying tribute to a Central Plains dynasty.

It seemed like casually coming to attend an event, after which the tribute-bearer walked away with tangible rewards while the suzerain state paid out gold, silver, and silks in exchange for a mere title.

In fact, nothing could be further from the truth!

Take the tribute system of the Central Plains dynasties, for example — it was by no means a matter of coming for a sightseeing trip, offering a few paltry trifles, and then running off once you had lined your pockets.

In reality, paying tribute was an extremely serious matter, and it placed great constraints on both sides.

This was nothing like what later generations imagined — toasting a godfather at a banquet, or even certain acts of "acknowledging" a godfather. In this era, paying tribute was not acknowledging a godfather; it was being adopted into another family.

After tribute was paid, the suzerain state could inquire into all of the tribute-bearer's domestic affairs — it only depended on whether it wished to.

Although this system was corrupted during the mid-Ming and the Manchu Qing periods, in earlier times it was actually a sharp sword.

A later saying goes: when strong, it has always been ours since antiquity; when weak, set aside disputes. This is in fact very close to the tribute system.

Under the tribute system, when the suzerain was strong, if you said a single foul word, your lord-father would spank your bottom.

When weak, it would stand on the moral high ground, summon and drive the countries around you to oppose you, then cut off your supplies and impose a blockade, leaving your royal house socially dead and making you an international orphan.

And electing a Great Khan according to steppe custom was even stricter than that.

When the Great Khan you elected summoned you to war, you had to come. When the Great Khan demanded tribute, you had to pay it. Of course, if you had troubles, the Great Khan would also resolve them for you.

Moreover, because the steppe had a rule — you could choose not to attend the assembly convened to elect a Great Khan, but if you came and did not support the election, that was tantamount to a challenge, and it would be a fight to the death.

Therefore, everyone who had come to the city of Yanqi today had already made up their mind to elect Zhang Zhao as Great Khan.

By the shores of the lake, the rising sun had just appeared, and the election assembly was about to begin. The chieftains of the various tribes had all risen early, eaten a hearty morning meal, and then made their way one after another to their assigned positions.

Zhang Zhao had set up eight-colored banners by the lakeshore, and beneath each colored banner stood the representative of one tribal confederation.

The three Kirghiz tribes of the Yin Mountains were under the blue banner.

The two Karluk tribes of the Land of Seven Rivers were under the black banner.

The tribes of Suyab were under the red banner.

The Basmyl and Uyghur people of the Yingsuo River were under the green banner.

The various Gaochang Uyghur tribes were under the white banner.

The Samanid Persians were under the blue banner.

The tribes of Hucheng and Anyuan were under white banners mixed with red.

The rest — the Basmyl, Long family, Ganzhou Uyghur, Tatar, and Tangut Qiang peoples who belonged to Zhang Zhao's domain — stood together with the Han people beneath the great purple banner that symbolized the Great Khan's own headquarters.

At the same time, the shores of the lake were filled with eminent monks from temples everywhere, flying swastika banners.

From Ningyuan to the Qingtang Plateau and on to every part of the Western Regions, all had come.

This was not merely an assembly to elect a Great Khan; it was also a grand religious convocation.

But though the election assembly was about to begin, Zhang Zhao still had not appeared, because he was receiving several old friends he had not seen for years.

The representative sent by Guo Xuanqing, Governor of the Guo family of Suyab and Nestorian Prefect of Dignity and Virtue, turned out to be none other than Guo Xuanli, the Prefect of Prudence and Virtue, who had once so fiercely opposed the return east.

More than seven years had passed, yet Guo Xuanli had not aged much. Apart from a little graying of his beard and hair, he was as hale and spirited as ever.

The reason Guo Xuanqing had sent Guo Xuanli was that Guo Xuanli missed his two sons, Guo Guangsheng and Guo Guangcheng, who had followed Zhang Zhao away, and so he had simply decided to bring his whole family and prepare to move back to the Central Plains.

The man who had once been most unwilling to return east had now become the first to want to come back of his own accord. One had to say, the ways of the world were always unpredictable.

"Li Guoshou sent no one — surely Sixth Granduncle must have pulled some strings?"

Zhang Zhao asked with a smile, looking at Guo Xuanli, who was talking with his two sons.

Zhang Zhao had married the Guo family's little wildcat, Guo Wan'er, and so he too called Guo Xuanqing "Sixth Granduncle."

Hearing Zhang Zhao say this, Guo Xuanli's face showed a few traces of a wry smile. He knew this Great King Zhang's temperament all too well.

For all the sweetness of his words, when it came time to act, he did not soften his hand in the slightest.

That was exactly how it had been back then, when he had pushed Guo Xuanqing up and brought himself down.

"After the envoy reached Suyab, Xuanqing deliberately delayed five days before seeing him, and then notified Li Guoshou three days late. I imagine Li Guoshou's envoy is still racing toward Yanqi at this very moment."

The divide-and-rule scheme Zhang Zhao had devised back then, separating the Guo family of Suyab from Li Guoshou, Deputy Governor of Talas and descendant of Li Sizhong, was now beginning to bear fruit.

Li Guoshou and Guo Xuanqing quarreled over trifles every three days and had major rows every five. Had the two not been checking each other, they would long since have taken the city of Shiguo (Tashkent).

But this was exactly what Zhang Zhao wanted to see. In years past he had used the father-son strife between Nasr and Hamid to wipe out half of the Samanid Persians' main force in one stroke, and had weakened them a little too much.

Now, by letting Guo Xuanqing and Li Guoshou contend with each other for a while, he would later have a good pretext to send a large army to take charge, and then use the abilities of both families to expand his territory.

"Third Granduncle, from now on you should live in Liangzhou, so that Guangsheng and Guangcheng can do their filial duty by you.

Also, when the deputy envoy returns, have him inform Sixth Granduncle that Wan'er has remained childless. If there is still no happy news by next year, then Sixth Granduncle should send Zhou'er over."

Zhang Zhao vaguely remembered that Guo Wan'er had a young cousin named Zhou'er, who at the time had been only nine years old and had already shown the makings of a great beauty.

This Guo family was his intended Nestorian knightly order, the punishers of God in Western Europe. It would not do for Guo Wan'er to be unable to bear children now.

Guo Xuanli hastily nodded in agreement. Guo Zhou'er was not yet seventeen and was already an outstanding beauty of the Suyab Guo family.

They had originally been discussing sending her to Zhang Zhao anyway. Now that Zhang Zhao had spoken of it himself, whether Guo Wan'er bore a son or not, she would have to be sent over.

Guo Xuanli went out with his two sons, and the room was left with two old men with tearful eyes — none other than Zhang Zhao's former loyal servant Old Zhang Zhong, and his cousin Song Zhongyi, who had remained in Ningyuan.

"Young Master Zhao!" The moment Guo Xuanli left, Old Zhang Zhong dropped to his knees with a thud and began wailing.

Zhang Zhao hurriedly helped him up. If one spoke of loyalty, the most loyal person in this world to him was Old Zhang Zhong — although the old man's abilities were somewhat headache-inducing.

"Fifty-six this year, aren't you? Nearly past sixty, and still kneeling? How is your eldest son? Shall I have him sent to Liangzhou to follow me?"

"I am grateful the young lord still remembers this servant's age. Fifty-six it is, and more than six years since I left the young lord's side. When I set out, Hua Niang was still discussing with me that once Shun'er grew a little older, we would send him to the young lord."

Old Zhang Zhong had aged, and looked much older than before. He had spent decades worrying on Zhang Zhao's behalf, but at last, in his later years, he had come to enjoy a wealth and honor that few ordinary people could ever possess.

He had married a lovely young wife more than thirty years his junior, and, old in years but not in spirit, had also taken a beautiful concubine.

In Ningyuan he managed Zhang Zhao's private estates of more than four hundred thousand mu. Even Zhang Zhao's legal mother, Princess Fengtian, when she was in Ningyuan, consulted Zhang Zhong on every matter and treated him with the greatest respect — for one could say that Zhang Zhao had been raised single-handedly by Old Zhang Zhong.

The old fellow now had four children, and his vigor was truly remarkable. In Ningyuan, even Zhang Zhong's servants had risen to become officials. One could say he enjoyed glory to the utmost.

"Cousin, your weight really has shot up fast! You must be over a hundred and seventy jin by now, eh?" After helping old Zhang Zhong to his feet, Zhang Zhao turned and laughed at Song Zhongyi.

This nephew of Zhang Zhao's birth mother had been wounded in the leg during the battle by the Yaxartes River where the Persian general Adhural was defeated, and afterward he had not followed the army back east.

Zhang Zhao had granted him several thousand mu of land and an official post, and so he had settled into a life of ease in Ningyuan together with several other Hanshan Du armored soldiers who had likewise not returned east.

Song Zhongyi gave an embarrassed chuckle. In these years since he had stopped fighting, he had thrown himself into enjoyment without restraint in Ningyuan.

He had six wives and concubines, not only nearly ten thousand mu of land but also a traveling-merchant business, and his weight had long since become uncontrollable.

"Thanks to the good fortune of the young lord, it is no longer a hundred and seventy jin now — it is already over a hundred and eighty. But the young lord is still just the same as before."

Just as he was about to chat with the two of them a while longer, Guo Tiance came in from outside to report that the election assembly was about to begin.

Zhang Zhao could only signal to the two of them to come back later. In the evening, the old brothers of the Hanshan Du would surely have a proper reunion.

The booming of drums sounded, and Zhang Zhao rode in a six-horse carriage, one captured from Xieli Pijia.

The yellow silk canopy atop the carriage, however, was not the counterfeit that Xieli Pijia had recklessly made, but a treasured piece from Li Shengtian's collection.

The various tribes that had come for the election had long since taken their places by region, according to the banners arranged in advance.

But these herdsmen of the grasslands could hardly be expected to have any discipline.

The Basmyl people of the Yingsuo River and the Gaochang Uyghurs were somewhat better, being deeply Sinicized, but the Kyrgyz and the Karluks were in utter chaos.

The two sides had old grudges to begin with, and for a time there was shouting, cursing, and the grabbing of mud, stones, even horse dung from the ground to hurl at one another, until the scene was as disorderly as a great brawl.

But as Zhang Zhao made his appearance, the silver-blade officers leading the procession, dressed in brocade robes and holding the sharp imperial horse-slaying swords, at once frightened these tribes into stillness, and they dared not move recklessly.

Next, the drum and wind musicians on both sides, dressed in spotted robes, began to play the ceremonial music.

Guarding Zhang Zhao were the elite troops of the Left and Right Yulin Guards of the State of Liang, the fully armored cavalry of the Iron Horse Du, the elite of the various garrison armies, and in addition one thousand iron-armored palace guards of the Golden Kingdom of Khotan — a full three thousand five hundred men.

These three thousand five hundred men, clad from head to toe in iron armor and mounted on tall warhorses, immediately so overawed the tribes that had just been in chaos that they knelt on the ground in fear.

Setting aside everything else, these three thousand five hundred armored horse and foot alone were not something they could stand against.

Besides these, the tribal cavalry of the State of Liang that had come with Zhang Zhao had also arrived.

There by the shores of the Near Sea, the great army of the State of Liang demonstrated a live drill: elite horse archers screening and covering the main army, driving off the enemy's light cavalry; the heavy infantry of the center shooting the enemy's front with bows and crossbows; light armored elite cavalry striking from both flanks; heavy armored modao glaive glaive glaive men then advancing to break the formation; and finally the fully armored cavalry delivering the finishing blow.

The whole sequence flowed like clouds and water, formations shifting in an instant, bows and crossbows loosing ten thousand arrows at once, iron cavalry advancing like a wall, the light armored cavalry and horse archers fierce and swift.

Even the three Kyrgyz tribes, who had originally been lured here only by the prospect of wealth, were frightened senseless, and their chieftains knelt one after another and prostrated themselves.

After the great army of the State of Liang had finished its drill, the various tribes likewise performed for the Great Khan in their hearts the riding and shooting at which steppe cavalry most excelled.

Though far inferior to the great army of the State of Liang, it could still be counted as fierce.

Zhang Zhao then lavishly rewarded the chieftains of the various tribes, granting each of them one tax-free opportunity of five hundred strings of cash per year, and permitting them to send trusted men to take part in merchant trade.

He further announced that from the sons and grandsons of the tribal chieftains, four hundred men would be selected to form a hostage army, to attend upon him at his side.

This too was a custom of the steppe peoples — not a punishment, but a privilege.

The chieftains were greatly delighted. After performing the procedures required by the election assembly, each chieftain contributed a single stick of firewood, and at last they gathered them together and kindled a fire to sacrifice to Heaven.

This is what is called the fanliao offering, a custom found both in the Central Plains and on the steppe.

Finally, before the face of the sacrificial fire, the Gaochang Uyghurs, the Long clan of Suzhou, the Basmyl of the Yingsuo River, the Karluks of the Seven Rivers region, the three Kyrgyz tribes of the Yin Mountains, the various tribes of Suyab, the Turks of Huwen City, and others — eleven tribes in all —

jointly acclaimed Zhang Zhao as Great Khan of the steppe, bestowing upon him the honorific Qiudoufa, calling him the Qiudoufa Khagan.

Are you kidding me?

Zhang Zhao immediately declared that he would not accept it!

For Qiudoufa was an ancient Rouran word, also called Old Mongolian, originally meaning "driving a carriage with both hands," and so the Qiudoufa Khagan, rendered into Chinese, carried the sense of "the lord who drives all under Heaven."

But Zhang Zhao was not pleased. First, the first Qiudoufa Khagan was the Rouran Khagan Yujiulü Shelun. Though he too was a great ruler, the title was not illustrious.

Second, this was now the age of Turkic-speaking steppe peoples, and for them to give him a Rouran-language khagan title — trying to muddy the waters and lower the value of the title — they were thinking too much. Playing word games in front of a Han?

The moment Zhang Zhao said he would not accept it, the war drums began to pound, dong-dong, and tens of thousands of soldiers struck the iron armor on their bodies with their weapons.

In an instant, metal clashed and rang, and a murderous intent rose into the air.

The tribal chieftains were drenched in sweat and hastily began to deliberate anew. In the end they decided to bestow the honorific Yinli Khagan, in full the Nijue Yinli Khagan blessed by Tengri.

Yinli in Old Turkic meant territory or domain; in Han terms it carried the sense of swallowing the six directions and sweeping across the eight corners. Nijue was a prefix meaning "radiating great brilliance."

And so, after a vacancy of one hundred and eighty years, Zhang Zhao was acclaimed by the assembled peoples by the shores of the Near Sea, with the honorific Nijue Yinli Khagan, abbreviated as Yinli Khagan — translated into Chinese, the Great Khagan Who Illuminates All Under Heaven and Unifies the Cosmos.

Uh! But as Zhang Zhao listened on, he began to feel that something was still not quite right.

The Radiant Yinli Khagan?

What is he, a milk salesman?

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