Chapter 630: The Fatal Bluff

What a fine book.........

Shulu Ping was not unaware of the danger of raising the yellow silk canopy and the great white yak-tail banner that marked the lord of the steppe. On the contrary, she knew it very well.

But she still wanted to try, to see whether she could use the prestige of this wrist-severing Empress Dowager and the already threadbare tiger-skin of the Great Khitan State to hold up the last shred of Khitan dignity.

There was no helping it! After two successive emperors had died on the battlefield, Khitan prestige had already been badly battered.

Without putting on some show of strength, this Khitan state simply could not hold itself together any longer.

Steppe peoples do not speak of loyalty or righteousness; clinging to the strongest thigh has been the unchanging law of the lands north of the Great Wall since ancient times.

When the Xiongnu were mighty, everyone obeyed the Xiongnu Chanyu. When the Turks rose, the Turkic Khagan was our heaven. In earlier days, when the Khitan were strong, the Khitan Emperor was lord of the steppe.

By the same logic, if the Son of Heaven of the Central Plains could overawe the steppe, he too would become a heroic Son of Heaven and Heavenly Khagan whom all on the steppe would follow.

And beyond preserving the Khitan's last "tiger-skin," Shulu Ping had another thought: she wanted to use this method to probe Zhang Zhao's bottom line.

Shulu Ping could not bear to let go! This Great Khitan State was, in truth, built by her and Yelu Abaoji together.

During the Rebellion of the Brothers, Yelu Abaoji could not bring himself to strike down his own brothers and wanted to show them mercy; it was Shulu Ping who insisted they all be killed to eliminate future trouble, thereby establishing the Khitan Khagan's throne as hereditary rather than rotational.

The scheme to lure and slay the chieftains of the other seven tribes and their several hundred followers, enabling Yelu Abaoji to unite the eight tribes and become the true lord of the Khitan — that too was done when Yelu Abaoji still hesitated, and it was Shulu Ping who personally ordered the executioners to cut the seven chieftains in two.

One could say that without Shulu Ping, Yelu Abaoji could never have united the eight Khitan tribes and become Khitan Emperor.

For while Yelu Abaoji certainly possessed grand vision and great strategy, he lacked the ruthlessness to cut the weeds and pull out the roots, and that ruthlessness was what Shulu Ping supplied to complete him.

But now, with her son Yelu Deguang and her grandson Yelu Ruan dead one after another in battle, and tens of thousands of men from the Palace Camp and Shushan armies reduced to ash and smoke, for Shulu Ping, now sixty-eight years old, it was in truth much the same as being dead herself.

The glorious realm built by her own hands had, in the end, turned to empty bubbles. Not everyone has the strength to bear such a thing, and so Shulu Ping had come today with her mind already set on death.

If Zhang Zhao killed her, then those clansmen still hesitating, reluctant to flee to Jingbian City (Manzhouli) and re-enter the deep mountains, old forests, and lands north of the great desert, would know what to do.

If Zhang Zhao did not kill her, that would prove this Shao Ming Son of Heaven's strategy was south first, north later — that only after first unifying the Central Plains would he march north like Han Gaozu or Tang Taizong. In that case, the ten years Zhang Zhou would need to unify the south would be the Great Khitan's final opportunity.

Yet Shulu Ping, scheming all the way, never imagined that before she even laid eyes on Zhang Zhao, she would receive a blow to the head.

Amid earth-shaking hoofbeats, a slightly pale and plump fierce general in silver-white Zhou-style cloth-faced iron armor rode up before the five hundred horsemen escorting Shulu Ping.

"I have heard the Khitan have always claimed supremacy on horseback. I, Zhao Kuangyin, have come to seek instruction!"

The Khitan looked at one another in bewilderment. Han Kuangsi spurred his horse out of the ranks. "This is the carriage of the Great Liao Empress Dowager. How dare a mere cavalry officer like you block the way? Is this how the Southern Dynasty's Son of Heaven receives his aunt, the Empress Dowager?"

"Hmph!" Zhao Kuangyin snorted coldly. "Mere northern slaves, beasts dressed in human form, and you dare call yourselves the Northern Dynasty. Utter treason!"

With that, Zhao Kuangyin drew his bow and loosed. Thunk — the arrow struck squarely into the wooden shaft of Shulu Ping's great banner.

Of course it would not snap in one shot, for the great banner's shaft was very thick; even hacking at it with a blade would take more than a few strokes.

But the great banner's significance was no ordinary matter. The Khitan had already been on guard against Zhang Zhou champions coming to issue challenges, and so they had placed the great banner in the central army, at least a hundred twenty or thirty paces from Zhao Kuangyin. They had not expected Zhao Kuangyin's archery to be so divine that he struck the great banner directly.

At once a Khitan brave general flew out from the Khitan ranks on horseback, hard bow in hand, shouting as he came, "I'll kill you, you Bianzhou bandit!" Even as he shouted, he loosed three arrows in rapid succession.

Zhao Kuangyin twitched the tip of his cavalry lance twice, knocking one arrow down, while the other two struck him square in the chest — though they failed to pierce his armor and did not sink deep into flesh.

Seeing this, the Khitan brave general set down his hard bow, took up a cavalry lance in one hand and raised a small round shield in the other as he charged over. The small round shield was to guard against Zhao Kuangyin drawing his bow to shoot him.

But Zhao Kuangyin did not take the hard bow from his side; instead he spurred forward faster. The Khitan brave general's heart eased, and he was just about to toss aside the small round shield to trade lance blows with Zhao Kuangyin when, to his shock, his warhorse suddenly let out a shriek and threw him straight to the ground.

It turned out Zhao Kuangyin had mounted a foot-triggered crossbow on the side of his horse. As he charged, he stamped his foot, and the bolt flew out, directly shooting down the Khitan brave general's warhorse.

With his opponent on the ground before him, Zhao Kuangyin gave a great shout, charged over, and with one thrust of his cavalry lance knocked the lance from the Khitan brave general's hand.

At the same moment, as they brushed past, Zhao Kuangyin's warhorse bared its teeth, let out a whinny, and its right hind hoof snapped out like a spring.

Thud — a warhorse of over a thousand jin does not kick lightly. The Khitan brave general had been sitting on the ground; the kick knocked his head sideways, his helmet was sent askew, and his body stiffened in a spasm before he toppled into the dust.

Zhao Kuangyin wheeled his horse back, reached down, and hauled the Khitan brave general up like a dead dog, carrying him off. The watching troops at once burst into thunderous cheers.

Seeing Zhao Kuangyin win merit, another fierce general suddenly flew out from the front of the formation.

He was not wearing Zhang Zhou's cloth-faced iron armor, but a very Five Dynasties-style set of fully armored lamellar iron armor fitted with two heart-protecting mirrors.

On his head was a one-piece helmet with attached neck guard, his whole body wrapped up like an iron man with only a pair of eyes left exposed, and his warhorse was likewise fully barded.

"I am Zhang Yuanhui of Xingzhou! Do the northern slaves still have anyone who dares take the field? If not, cut down your own great banner!"

Zhang Yuanhui was a brave general Zhang Zhao had discovered in the city of Taiyuan. When Liu Chong surrendered, Zhang Yuanhui had been guarding Liu Chong's side. Dark and burly, with a defiant look in his eyes, he naturally exuded a fierce and savage air.

The moment Zhang Zhao asked his name, he broke into a smile. If the historical Northern Han had any brave generals left, apart from Yang Jiye the Invincible, there was Zhang Yuanhui.

But the man had a bit of a tragic fate. In history, at the Battle of Gaoping, he led three hundred fully armored cavalry out from the Northern Han left wing and directly routed the Zhou army's right wing. The Zhou army collapsed, and even Guo Rong, who had ridden light cavalry to the front, fell into danger.

The Later Zhou's defeat had seemed all but certain, when Zhao Kuangyin, in that moment of crisis, erupted with sudden fury and held back the Northern Han assault.

The Northern Han ruler Liu Chong, failing to see that his army's edge was spent, forced Zhang Yuanhui to take the field again. As a result, the supremely unlucky man's horse slipped and he could not rise, and he was cut down by the Zhou troops.

Of course, here with Zhang Zhao, Zhang Yuanhui could naturally escape his historical fate.

Moreover, since Zhang Zhou lacked commanders for fully armored cavalry, ever since Li Ruotai retired to the second line, one could say there was almost no armored cavalry general capable of bearing the main burden. Zhang Yuanhui's future was bright indeed.

With such a terrifying cavalry general taking the field, the Khitan would naturally not send out some nameless nobody. A clansman of the Yelu family, man and horse alike armored, slowly rode out.

Their eyes met, and without prior agreement both began pushing their horses to full speed at twenty paces. Two steel behemoths of over half a ton each suddenly crossed paths.

Zhang Yuanhui let out a thunderous roar. Despite weighing two or three hundred jin, he executed a remarkably nimble move in the saddle, deliberately leaning slightly to one side and taking the Khitan armored rider's spear thrust on his waist and ribs.

Screech — the sound of metal being scraped rang out. It turned out that on the waist-and-rib section of Zhang Yuanhui's armor there was an iron plate layered with several thicknesses of brocade.

When he deliberately turned his side to meet the enemy, the enemy spear, upon striking this iron plate, would quickly have its force redirected by the tearing brocade, and the spearhead would then slide off the smooth surface of the plate.

Although at least half the force would still slam into Zhang Yuanhui, it unquestionably lessened the blow considerably.

But at the same moment, Zhang Yuanhui, holding his spear in his left hand, struck the Khitan armored rider square in the chest.

Unlike the Central Asian breakaway spearheads and the shattering lance shafts typified by the Polish winged hussars, Chinese-style armored cavalry duels placed greater emphasis on technique, because the Chinese cavalry spear was a long-bladed spear: first you had to land the thrust, then drag and cut.

In an instant, the two horses crossed. After the long, keen blade slammed into the enemy rider, the spearhead first sank deep into the Khitan armored rider's chest, and then, relying on the terrifying impact of the charging horse and the drag-cut ability of the spear blade, it suddenly ripped open a great swath of the armor scales on the Khitan rider's chest.

The sight was utterly brutal, and it happened almost in a single instant. Those watching from afar could only see a spray of blood mist burst from the Khitan armored rider's chest before the man went limp and toppled to the ground.

A thunderous cheer erupted. Zhang Yuanhui wheeled his horse and rode back to his own lines without even finishing off the enemy on the ground.

Zhao Kuangyin and the others hurried over to attend to him. Only after removing his helmet did they discover Zhang Yuanhui's head covered in cold sweat and his face deathly pale.

It turned out this Khitan armored cavalry general was no ordinary man either. Although Zhang Yuanhui had employed genuine "technology and ruthless craft," the thrust had still left his ribs in trouble.

As for the Khitan armored cavalry general, there was no need to finish him off at all. When an object of over half a ton accelerates into a collision, as long as it strikes head-on, even if it does not kill, it takes half a man's life.

With two victories in a row, great terror spread through the Khitan ranks, and for a time no one dared come out to fight.

But Lin Renzhao was bold and highly skilled. Seeing this, he rode out of the formation, then actually dismounted in the middle of the field, slapped his horse's rump, and drove his mount away.

Carrying only one long and one short spear, a single bow, and wearing only half a suit of armor, he stood with his feet planted apart in a figure-eight stance.

Utterly brazen! Lin Renzhao planted one foot on the chest of a Khitan armored cavalry officer who was still groaning, and casually adjusted the leather cap on his head — he had not even brought an iron helmet.

Every Khitan was enraged. As one, they turned their eyes toward a tall, powerfully built Khitan with shaved temples.

Shulu Ping also rose to her feet beneath the yellow silk canopy. This was a grandnephew from her own clan, long famed for his valor.

"Xiao Jingangnu, kill that Bian bandit and exalt the might of our Great Khitan!"

Under the gaze of the entire host, Xiao Jingangnu donned his iron lamellar armor, raised a black iron hammer in his left hand, and came roaring out of the Khitan battle formation.

At sixty paces, both drew their bows at the same moment. Xiao Jingangnu loosed two arrows in quick succession: one struck Lin Renzhao in the chest but with little force, and was even deflected outright; the other flew over Lin Renzhao's head.

Lin Renzhao also answered with a two-shot volley. One arrow struck Xiao Jingangnu's neck guard and staggered him; the other struck squarely on his face guard.

With a clang, Xiao Jingangnu shook his big head and let out an involuntary shriek of pain. Seeing that their archery was simply not on the same level, he roared, threw away his stiff bow, took the black iron hammer in his left hand and a short-handled axe in his right, and charged straight forward.

Lin Renzhao planted his feet and suddenly drew from behind his back a bronze-limbed, iron-backed bow of tremendous draw weight. At the sight of it, Xiao Jingangnu's soul nearly fled his body, and he ran even faster.

With an explosive shout, Lin Renzhao drew the one-dan-five super-heavy bow to a full moon. The arrow flew like a shooting star, its shaft quivering violently, like a living venomous snake, streaking forward amid the trembling.

With a wet thud, Xiao Jingangnu's body convulsed. He paused for a few seconds, let out an agonized scream, then threw away the short-handled axe in his hand, gritted through the terrible pain, snapped off the arrow shaft, and charged again.

"Still not dead!" Lin Renzhao blinked, shook out his aching arm, and rushed forward with one long and one short iron spear.

Xiao Jingangnu, having just snapped the arrow shaft, had no time to pick up his short-handled axe before Lin Renzhao was upon him. The long spear thrust out suddenly at an angle. Xiao Jingangnu dodged with the motion, intending to close the distance in a single stride and break the long spear with his hammer.

But the thrust was a feint; the true attack was the whip-strike. Xiao Jingangnu could not evade it, and the spear lashed across his ribs and waist, making him bare his teeth in pain, and his feet slowed at once.

Lin Renzhao used the opening to retreat two steps, then thrust the long spear out again. Xiao Jingangnu, thinking Lin Renzhao was repeating his old trick, focused on guarding against the whip-strike — and took the thrust square in the chest.

But this blow also roused the last of his ferocity. Refusing to avoid the wound, Xiao Jingangnu charged in and closed on Lin Renzhao.

What he did not know was that Lin Renzhao had intended exactly this.

The moment Xiao Jingangnu got in close, Lin Renzhao took a blow from the black iron hammer, abruptly released the long spear to accelerate in, then clamped Xiao Jingangnu's right arm under his left, and with the fine-steel short spear in his right hand stabbed seven or eight times at the spot on Xiao Jingangnu's chest where the arrow had struck.

So that arrow had pierced the armor after all — Xiao Jingangnu had merely forced down the pain. But this time, with Lin Renzhao stabbing the same spot again and again with the fine-steel short spear, he quickly could hold out no longer.

His massive body swayed with each of Lin Renzhao's thrusts. As blood sprayed from his chest, those thick thighs could no longer support him, and he slumped limply down in Lin Renzhao's grip.

Shulu Ping watched it all in anguish. In the space of half a cup of tea, she had lost three warriors each worth a hundred men.

It was just as she had seen: the fortune between Khitan and the Central Plains had already reversed. The kingly qi lay in the south — the Central Plains was about to produce a true sovereign.

Seeing that no Khitan dared come forward, Xue Guizhong rode up before the Khitan lines and shouted at Shulu Ping.

"By the Son of Heaven's edict, the Khitan ruler is commanded to leave the yellow silk canopy, put away the white ox-tail great banner, and proceed on foot to pay respects."

Such insolence instantly enraged every Khitan. They had grown accustomed — accustomed to these ten years, especially these last few years of the Later Jin's dominance over the Central Plains. The yellow silk canopy and the great banner were symbols of Khitan imperial authority.

Fury erupted like a tsunami, and every Khitan came surging toward the Zhou army with wild roars.

And then they struck as if against the hardest cliff face.

Who were those twenty-three Zhou generals across from them?

They were men Sage Zhang had painstakingly gathered from south to north.

There were Yang Ye and Zhang Yuanhui, the fierce generals of the Northern Han in history.

There were Zhao Kuangyin and Wang Shenqi, the founding warriors of the Later Zhou and Northern Song.

There was Lin Renzhao, the last pillar of the Southern Tang.

And there were Zhang Cheng, Xue Guizhong, and others whom Zhang Zhao himself had discovered and raised up.

Nearly all the young elite warriors of this era stood here in full armor. Each led a dozen or so officers and soldiers. How could four or five hundred Khitans be their match?

In less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the Khitan assault came to a halt. They had lost several dozen men, and across the battlefield, men and horses alike groaned in agony.

Shulu Ping stood on the carriage beneath the yellow silk canopy, her left hand gripping the carriage rail so hard that all her fingers turned white, and her already aged face grew even paler.

The situation she least wanted to see had come to pass. Zhang Zhao would not now march beyond the frontier to attack, but neither would he sit and watch the Khitan rebuild their prestige.

This was to let the Khitan remain kings beyond the frontier, while at the same time grinding their face into the mud, so that all could see the Khitan were a clay bodhisattva not yet gilded with gold.

"Stop! Everyone stop! I am willing to walk on foot to see the Shao Ming Son of Heaven!"

Shulu Ping shouted in anguish. Since Zhang Zhao was determined to strip the Khitans of their dignity, there was no need to let these warriors who could still return alive shed more blood. Better to keep them to suppress the revolts of the Bohai and Jurchen peoples.

Zhao Kuangyin wiped the blood from the shaft of his cavalry lance, grinned at his comrades beside him, and said, "If the old barbarian queen had been this agreeable from the start, we wouldn't have needed to lose several dozen men."

Wang Quanbin, Lin Renzhao, and the others burst into roaring laughter at these words.

At that moment, Lu Yin, a Drafter in the Secretariat, came riding up, followed by a large cart drawn by a camel.

"The Sage Son of Heaven commands: Shulu Ping is permitted to ride in a camel cart for the audience."

The crowd burst into laughter again. The joke of Yelu Deguang fleeing on a camel at Baituan Village in Yangcheng had by now spread everywhere.

Shulu Ping's face was ashen, and she seemed on the verge of fainting. But the Khitan soldiers behind her no longer had the courage to step forward. Every one of them hung his head, numbly tending his wounds or helping his own kin.

Seeing that the Khitans dared not resist, the generals charged straight forward and smashed the Khitans' yellow silk canopy and white ox-tail great banner to splinters.

Then they cut off Shulu Ping's Khitan guards and drove the Empress Dowager who had once cut off her own wrist toward Zhang Zhao, as if escorting her under duress.

In their high spirits was a fierce pride in Zhang Zhou, and in the very identity of being Han.

But once they reached the traveling palace made from the prefectural offices of Bei'an Prefecture, Zhang Zhao did nothing untoward to Shulu Ping.

When Shulu Ping stiffened her neck and refused to kneel, Zhang Zhao smilingly waived the prostration ceremony.

"Aunt, I trust you have been well since we last met. Is your health still good?" Zhang Zhao looked at Shulu Ping with a grin.

Shulu Ping gave Zhang Zhao a few cold glances, then swept her eyes over the elite soldiers and fierce generals of Zhang Zhou in the room, and suddenly let out a long sigh.

"Truly a wise and brilliant sovereign. My son did not lose unjustly. I am grateful for the Son of Heaven's concern. This old woman eats well and sleeps well, and living another thirty years should be no great problem."

Zhang Zhao personally poured a bowl of wine and ordered a palace attendant to deliver it to Shulu Ping's table. "That is good. Once I have pacified the south, I will certainly invite Aunt to the Eastern Capital for a visit, to see the sights of the Central Plains."

Shulu Ping took the wine bowl with her one remaining left hand, tilted her head back and drained it, and a trace of resentment surfaced on her face.

"It seems the Son of Heaven intends to deal with the south first and the north later. This old woman will surely lead the million brave warriors of my Great Khitan to await the Son of Heaven north of the desert."

"Hahaha!" Zhang Zhao laughed heartily. "Aunt, you misunderstand. The lands north of the desert have belonged to you nomadic peoples since ancient times.

Liaoxi was abandoned around the time the Yan rebels threw the Central Kingdom into chaos, and it has not belonged to the Middle Kingdom for two hundred years now. I truly have no intention of mounting another eastern expedition against Goguryeo as the Sui and Tang did."

Shulu Ping was not moved in the slightest by Zhang Zhao's words; her face showed not a trace of belief.

"This old woman is merely a crone from beyond the frontier who has seen little of the world. What the Son of Heaven says, this old woman cannot understand."

"It is only natural that Aunt does not believe me. In truth, back by the Hun River in years past, I said to my elder brother Deguang that the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan-Yun have been the shield of the Han lands since ancient times.

For the Central Kingdom to be without the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan-Yun is like a man missing an arm. No matter who becomes Son of Heaven in the Central Plains, he will inevitably throw everything into seizing them back. The Khitan cannot hold Han territory forever.

It is a pity that my elder brother Deguang did not take his younger brother's words to heart in the least. He wanted not only the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan-Yun, but also to be master of the Central Plains. Now that he has died, no one else can be blamed."

Shulu Ping sneered inwardly all the more. "According to the Son of Heaven, if my son had not entered the Central Plains, he would not have died, and the Hexi troops would not have marched through the passes?"

Zhang Zhao nodded. "Had my elder brother Deguang been willing to return the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan-Yun, he could certainly have continued to be master beyond the frontier in grand style.

We have been fighting back and forth for centuries. What is Khitan belongs to the Khitan, and what is the Middle Kingdom's belongs to the Middle Kingdom. Is that not good?"

Shulu Ping still did not believe what Zhang Zhao said, because she herself was the sovereign of a state, and she knew full well that such words could not be trusted at all.

Yet Zhang Zhao's words had struck home in Shulu Ping's heart, because in years past she had fiercely opposed Yelu Deguang's march south, and had even advised against holding Yan-Yun for long.

Before Yelu Deguang marched south, Shulu Ping had even said to him: "Though you now gain the Han lands, you cannot dwell in them; if by chance you stumble, what use will regret be then!"

Seeing Shulu Ping fall silent, Zhang Zhao did not press further. Instead he ordered wine and dishes served, and began to entertain Shulu Ping and the Khitan nobles who had come as envoys.

At the banquet, Zhang Zhao's tone was genial, a smile never leaving his face, and he repeatedly toasted his guests. Although the Zhou officers all wore fierce and dissatisfied expressions, Zhang Zhao the Son of Heaven truly seemed to mean what he said.

As the wine flowed, Shulu Ping watched coldly and saw the Zhou military officers grow more and more dissatisfied, until some even began to speak provocatively.

But the civil officials around the Zhou sovereign kept flattering him without pause, praising the Zhou ruler for quelling war as a benevolent sovereign would, and for refusing to campaign against Haidong so as not to repeat the fruitless expeditions of Emperor Yang of Sui and Emperor Taizong of Tang.

Shulu Ping was still weighing truth and falsehood in her mind when suddenly footsteps sounded outside, along with what seemed to be the clash of weapons.

The Khitan nobles were instantly frightened out of their wits, and Shulu Ping abruptly rose to her feet, her eyes fixed on Zhang Zhao.

Zhang Zhao's expression turned extremely awkward, flushing and paling by turns, then suddenly the look vanished and his gaze grew far more guarded.

He stared darkly at Murong Xinzhang, who stood at his side in a moon-white lan robe, then swept his eyes over the surrounding officers.

The air froze for a long moment. Only after a good while did Murong Xinzhang walk out, and the footsteps outside sounded again and gradually faded into the distance.

The Khitan company felt their hearts ease at once. Then drums and music swelled, and Zhang Zhao, his expression unchanged, resumed urging the guests to drink.

Within Shulu Ping's heart, waves surged, and then a wild joy welled up. She suddenly felt that she had very likely found the reason Zhang Zhao would not strike beyond the frontier.

It was because of the military men!

The military men of this age treated rebellion and insubordination as everyday fare, carrying on worse than even the Khitan.

She had heard that Zhang Zhao had been working ceaselessly in the southern court to weaken the power of the military officers, even to the point of abolishing the Military Governors. Now it seemed that was indeed true.

And he had already touched the core interests of the military men. The conflict between the civil and military factions of Zhang's Zhou had grown very great. The reason he would not march beyond the frontier was, in fact, to keep the power of the internal military faction from swelling further.

Zhang Zhao glanced at Shulu Ping without thinking, and Shulu Ping happened to look toward Zhang Zhao as well. The two hastily averted their eyes, each harboring secret designs.

Shulu Ping was still thinking that she had discovered a great secret of Zhang's Zhou.

Zhang Zhao was sneering inwardly as well. I've acted this far, and I still can't fool you?

Not only am I going to campaign east against Goguryeo like the Sui and Tang, I'm going to go on to the land of Wa.

And for now, let the Khitan keep diligently developing Liaodong and Liaoxi. Zhang Zhao will just wait a few years and then come pick the peaches.

Of course, the Khitan will surely shift their resources further north over these years to avoid a surprise attack by Zhang's Zhou.

But that would be even better!

Once the Khitan have developed both sides of the Greater Khingan Range, then I'll come pick the peaches. Wouldn't that be even better?

My British Empire played it exactly this way back in the day — rarely developing colonies itself, just waiting for others to develop them and then seizing them. So much less trouble.