Chapter 660: Nearly a Xiangji Temple Incident

"My son, can I still trust you?"

Zhang Zhao sat on a folding stool, and as he spoke these words, two men knelt before him.

Commander of the Brocade Guard, Marquis of Yecheng, Zhang Liecheng. Deputy Commander of the Brocade Guard, Zhang Lieming.

Zhang Lieming pressed his head to the floor, wishing with all his heart that he were not present at this moment.

Zhang Liecheng, however, was already terrified beyond measure, nearly collapsed upon the ground. That phrase "my son" from Zhang Zhao's mouth was surely meant for him, not for Zhang Lieming.

"Your son deserves death! But my loyalty to you, my lord, has never wavered for even half a day.

Fourteen years ago, my lord gave a starving child in the desert by the river a mouthful of food. From that moment on, your son swore he would serve you with his very life."

Having said this, Zhang Liecheng gave a bitter smile. "A child whom anyone could bully became the adopted son of the supreme ruler of the world, enjoying riches he never dared imagine. How could he ever betray his own father?"

Zhang Zhao stared at Zhang Liecheng, and Zhang Liecheng met his scrutiny with an open face.

This was not Zhang Zhao making trouble over nothing. What had just happened was, for an emperor such as himself, truly too horrifying.

Zhang Zhao had once confidently believed that he was one of the rare great rulers under heaven, that everyone around him had received enormous favor from him, and that his safety should be absolutely assured.

But today, the appearance of the eminent monk Cixian shattered the protective shell Zhang Zhao had taken such pride in.

A monk — and a foreign monk of unknown origins at that — had been able to appear within mere feet of him without his knowledge.

Had it been an assassin carrying a crossbow, Zhang Zhao would have been finished today!

The moment he thought of this, the fury in Zhang Zhao's heart surged up like towering waves.

Presumably this was how Oda Nobunaga had felt, so stifled, when he was killed at Honno-ji.

To hell with it! If the Central Plains Buddhist establishment did not still hold expectations of him, they could have just staged a Xiangji Temple Incident right then and there.

The more he brooded, the angrier he grew. Zhang Zhao jabbed his finger at Zhang Liecheng. "Even now, you still boast of your filial devotion and loyalty, yet your father nearly died on the spot because of your negligence."

Hearing the word "negligence" spoken from Zhang Zhao's own mouth, Zhang Liecheng finally broke into sobs, tears gushing from his eyes.

"Your son deserves death. Please, my lord, mete out punishment."

How to prevent such a thing from happening again — Zhang Zhao had already turned it over in his mind many times while the eminent monk Cixian was leaving.

The best solution, of course, would be to completely expel from his side all personal guards who were not Han, leaving only the Hexi and Longyou guards of various ethnicities who devoutly believed in the Six Dharma Sect.

They regarded Zhang Zhao as a true god, and their interests were entirely aligned with his; they could never be infiltrated by the Central Plains Buddhist establishment.

But Zhang Zhao, with tremendous willpower, rejected this option.

This step absolutely could not be taken any further.

If he truly went down this road, those personal troops of Hexi and Longyou who devoutly believed in the Six Dharma Sect would truly become Janissaries.

Moreover, the conflicts between religious sects — or rather, between schools of thought — were still extremely fierce at this time. In particular, the cultural conflict between Confucianism and Buddhism with its Indian flavor had reached a point of absolutely no compromise.

The struggle between the two sides had even triggered the Huichang Persecution of Buddhism a hundred years earlier. One need only look at the fierce attitude toward Buddhism of Han Yu, the great Confucian who had supported the persecution, to see how intense it was.

Zhang Zhao's Zhou state had not yet unified the realm. If he bound too many religious elements to himself at this juncture, he would immediately fall out with the Confucians, who "did not speak of strange forces and chaotic spirits," and this would deal a heavy blow to the image of a sage and enlightened ruler that Zhang Zhao was now laboring to build.

Zhang Zhao had once heard it said that Confucian culture was the choice of all Chinese people, and that each dynasty's sole exaltation of Confucianism was merely following the people's hearts.

At the time, Zhang Zhao had scoffed at this, considering it complete nonsense. But now it seemed it was not entirely without reason.

Ever since Buddhism was transmitted from India at the end of the Western Han, religious (philosophical) contradictions on Chinese soil had been acute, and no dynasty had lacked believers who dreamed of establishing a Buddhist kingdom on earth and stirred up trouble.

The reason for this was largely that early Buddhist thought was entirely foreign thought from India, and naturally clashed with the culture that China had already integrated and transmitted since the Spring and Autumn period.

So who resisted Buddhism? Not the Daoists, not the Legalists, and certainly not the Mohists or others.

It was the Confucians who resisted Buddhism and ultimately purified the Indian culture Buddhism carried, taking its essence and discarding its dross.

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Only Confucianism — which advocated the unity of heaven and man, practiced worldly governance, revered ancestor worship, and set KPIs for gods and Buddhas — could carry this banner.

And this very moment was the critical period of that fusion, and also the reason why, after Emperor Shizong of Zhou in the Three Wu and One Zong persecutions of Buddhism, later ages never again needed to persecute Buddhism.

Because after this, Buddhism fully merged into Chinese culture, the three schools of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism became fundamentally aligned in their broad direction, and Chinese culture as a whole never again experienced major religious conflict.

Zhang Zhao was also a man of the secular world, and he could only follow history's choice — elevate Confucianism to the high altar, and complete the historical mission that history had assigned to Guo Rong, Emperor Shizong of Zhou, but which now only he could carry out.

"Your Majesty!" Li Xiaojie strode quickly in from outside.

"An Sizhong, the Flying Tiger General and Guard Commander of the Third Company of the Left Battalion of the Right Shenwei Guard, who was on duty last night, has suddenly vanished. Along with him disappeared two personal guards from the Left Shenwei Guard.

An epidemic has broken out in the Flying Tiger General's camp; more than thirty men are down with diarrhea and cannot get out of bed."

"So it was the Right Shenwei Guard after all!" Zhang Zhao's face was ashen. He had thought long and hard: among the personal guards, the only ones likely to have problems were the Left and Right Shenwei Guards, formed around former Later Jin imperial troops; the Left and Right Qianniu Guards, formed from the sons of Hebei and Henan local magnates; and the Left and Right Baotao Guards, formed around Hedong troops and heroes of You and Yun.

Because only these six guards' soldiers had been recruited after Zhang Zhao entered the Central Plains. Moreover, the Central Plains, You and Yun, and Hedong had long flourished with Buddhism, making them the most likely to be infiltrated by the Central Plains Buddhist establishment.

And of the three personal guard units that had accompanied him to Xiangji Temple, the Right Yulin Guard and the Left Longxiang Guard were entirely composed of men from Hexi and Longyou.

The Commandant of the Right Yulin Guard was Li Cunhui, and the Commandant of the Left Longxiang Guard was Fan Quan — both were trusted confidants among Zhang Zhao's trusted confidants, absolutely impossible to buy off.

That left only the Right Shenwei Guard, a personal guard unit more than sixty percent of whose soldiers were former Later Jin imperial troops, as the possible source of the problem.

"Does anyone else know of this matter?" Zhang Zhao asked in a low voice.

Li Xiaojie hurriedly shook his head. "The Commandant of the Right Shenwei Guard, Baron of Anyuan Jiao Jixun, has already sealed off the news. He is now kneeling outside the door begging for punishment. Apart from the Baron of Anyuan's personal guards, no one else knows."

Zhang Zhao trusted Li Xiaojie deeply — even more than he trusted Zhang Liecheng and Zhang Lieming.

Zhang Liecheng had a flaw in his character: he cared too much about power and reputation. In the current situation, he might conceal things in order not to lose face before Zhang Zhao.

Zhang Lieming, on the other hand, might be influenced by the imperial clan, the Zhang family of Shazhou.

Only Li Xiaojie, of Tangut origin from Yuanzhou, whose grandfather Li Zhongchao and father Li Siyi had both been among the first old-timers to follow Zhang Zhao into Guanzhong.

Back then, although they had been coerced into following the Guiyi Army into Guanzhong to suppress the rebellion, after the war Li Zhongchao and his son had submitted completely.

Now the Tangut of Li Zhongchao's tribe had migrated to the lush pastures of Lingzhou. More than twenty officers above the rank of Guard Commander had come from the clan, all of them believers in the Six Dharma Sect, deeply bound to Zhang Zhao.

Li Xiaojie himself had been brought to Liangzhou by Zhang Zhao at the age of eleven and had lived at Zhang Zhao's side ever since. He had been raised in the palace even longer than Yang Jiye.

Therefore, at a time like this, Li Xiaojie was the most reliable.

"Summon the Imperial Physician-in-Chief Zhao Jinfang. Have him personally lead men to investigate what this epidemic in the Right Shenwei Guard is about. As for Jiao Jixun..."

Zhang Zhao found himself unable to decide, because he now distrusted even the Right Shenwei Guard itself. Who knew whether Jiao Jixun had any involvement.

"Uncle! You must summon the Count of Anzhou at once to placate him. Perhaps their intent was never to probe your attitude toward the Buddhist establishment, but to strike at your very heart!"

Zhang Lieming, who had kept his head pressed to the floor tiles, saw Zhang Zhao hesitate and immediately cried out in a lowered voice.

Zhang Zhao glared at him furiously. "What is your station? Do you even know what 'striking at the heart' means?"

Zhang Lieming was so frightened that cold sweat dripped from his face, yet he still said to Zhang Zhao in a trembling voice: "When the skin is gone, what can the fur cling to? Your nephew bears the surname Zhang!"

Zhang Zhao withdrew his glare from Zhang Lieming, closed his eyes, and thought for a moment.

"Zhang Liecheng, return to the Eastern Capital at once. Go through the Brocade Guard and sort out all those with ties to the Buddhist establishment. Find the devout believers as well, but it must be done in secret — do not alert the snake by beating the grass.

Zhang Lieming, go into Chang'an and find Luo Yu'er. Have him bring the Changguo Garrison here.

Xiaojie, go summon Jiao Jixun in, and send someone to notify Li Gu and Zhao Pu."

Jiao Jixun felt as though his feet weighed ten thousand catties. Li Xiaojie did not yet know what An Sizhong's origins were, but he knew them very well.

From the surname An alone, one could tell that An Sizhong was certainly a the the Shatuo — though only a false the the Shatuo from the Three Tribes of Daibei.

For four generations, An Sizhong's ancestors had all eaten from the soldier's bowl. His great-grandfather had even served as a personal attendant to Li Guochang, father of the Prince of Jin.

Now that such a grave matter had occurred, the Sage's relations with the Daibei and Hedong military men were already somewhat delicate. If this affair implicated all the personal troops and palace guards of Daibei and Hedong military stock, then the trouble would truly be immense.

His mind in chaos, Jiao Jixun followed several Brocade Guards toward the inner hall, and soon saw the Emperor standing in the chamber. The Emperor was speaking with Li Gu and Zhao Pu about something.

The moment Jiao Jixun entered, the Emperor saw him. There was no thunderous fury, nor of course any immediate order to seize him, Jiao Jixun — not even a word of reproach.

"Chengji, you've come! Don't be nervous. We know this affair has nothing to do with you. Someone is trying to drive a wedge between sovereign and minister. Sit down quickly and tell Us — what is this An Sizhong's background? We have not treated him poorly."

At these words, tears streamed down Jiao Jixun's face. What a fine Emperor! Faced with such great danger, he had not blamed him, and could still speak with such warmth and kindness.

One must understand — Sage Zhang was no ruler like Shi Chonggui, with little real power in his hands.

Even in the worst case, had Shi Chonggui met with such a thing, even if he did not unleash a great slaughter, a batch of people would certainly have died.

"Your servant Jiao Jixun is ashamed of the Sage's trust, and deserves death ten thousand times over! But your servant must say: the brothers-in-arms in the army are, for the most part, utterly devoted to the Sage. Men like An Sizhong, harboring treachery in their hearts, are not often seen."

"You!" Zhang Zhao could not help reaching out and jabbing his finger at Jiao Jixun several times.

This famous minister — remembered in history as a scholar-general who repeatedly won great merit — had always been used as a mere tool, and it was very likely connected to this temperament of his.

Was that something a man bearing guilt could say? To say with your own mouth "not often seen" meant taking responsibility. If another An Sizhong truly appeared, then on the strength of that one sentence, Zhang Zhao could lawfully and reasonably have Jiao Jixun's head cut off.

But a military officer so bold, so ready to die, and so capable was exactly what Zhang Zhao wanted.

Moreover, after Zhang Lieming's warning, Zhang Zhao had thought the matter through clearly.

He realized that the Buddhist establishment alone certainly did not possess such power. At the very least, when Chai Rong had dealt with them in history, they had shown no such capacity to resist.

And just as Zhang Lieming and Jiao Jixun had both perceived, these people drove every move at the two sensitive words "Hedong" and "Daibei." They probably truly did intend to arouse Zhang Zhao's wariness toward the personal troops and palace guards who were not of Hexi and Longyou origin.

Therefore, although his heart was still extremely angry, and he did indeed feel some worry and distrust, Zhang Zhao forcibly suppressed all of it.

He sighed helplessly and continued speaking to Jiao Jixun: "In the future, do not speak so rashly. Do you realize that those two sentences you just uttered could very well cost you your head one day?"

Jiao Jixun also realized that what he had just said was not his to say.

But hearing Zhang Zhao speak to him so frankly, as one would to an insider, he was moved beyond words, and the misgivings that had just risen in his heart were immediately cast to the back of his mind again.

"With a sage Son of Heaven on the throne, there will naturally be blunt-speaking ministers such as your servant.

Although An Sizhong came from Daibei, since his father's time few in his family had attained high office.

His rebellion alone truly cannot be equated with the Daibei and Hedong military men. This is a scheme laid by villains — I beg the Sage to see clearly."

"Hmph!" Zhang Zhao snorted coldly. "If We did not see clearly, We would certainly have ordered your head, Jiao Chengji, cut off this very moment, and the purge within the army would long since have begun.

Tell Us, then — what does the decline of An Sizhong's family have to do with Us?

He was a surrendered soldier. We saved him from the Khitan, then raised him to the post of Jiangyuhou of the personal army. Why would he do such a thing?"

As Zhang Zhao spoke, he personally pulled Jiao Jixun to his feet. Jiao Jixun quickly said: "An Sizhong's family is in truth descended from the Nine Zhaowu Clans, and most devout in their faith. It is said that five years ago, An's mother cut off her right arm as an offering."

"Sick!" Zhang Zhao cursed, his face livid.

In the Buddhist establishment of this time, there was a most repulsive custom: believers liked to use self-mutilation to display their devotion to the faith.

Commonly they would scald their faces with hot oil, burn their faces or hands with open flame, or even cut off arms or legs. The more brutal the method, the more it demonstrated piety.

And the temples often encouraged such practices. When a believer cut off a hand or foot as an offering, the temple would provide medicine and food to sustain him, deeming him possessed of Buddha-nature. Some temples even competed with one another over which had more devout believers who offered up their own flesh.

And these practices further spurred competition among believers.

Some were not even believers at all, but simply risked self-mutilation for the sake of the meal the temple provided.

Although An Sizhong's family had declined, he was still a member of the Daibei and Hedong military class.

Even if Zhang Zhou was not a traditional Hedong the the Shatuo regime, the Jiangyuhou of Zhang Zhou's personal army — though one could not call it great wealth and honor — was by no means an ordinary household.

For An's mother, from such a family, to ruthlessly cut off her right arm as an offering shows that this was true devotion.

That a son raised by such a fanatical believer mother could be bought by the Buddhist establishment is not strange.

"Sage, your servant's investigation has found that An Sizhong's family once held large estates in Daizhou in Hedong. After the court recovered Daizhou, An Sizhong sought to reclaim the family property, but he could produce no evidence, and in the end recovered only a little over a hundred mu. An Sizhong often complained of this." This time it was Li Xiaojie who spoke.

Zhang Zhao nodded. Religious motives, economic motives — that completed the picture.

"This is all dereliction of duty on your part. A man serving as Our personal guard at any moment — a grand Jiangyuhou of the personal army — not only had such strange affairs in his household, but often voiced grievances, and not one of you took it seriously. Hmph!"

Zhang Zhao's anger had not subsided. He stepped forward and kicked Zhang Liecheng, sending him, where he knelt on the floor, sprawling onto his back.

"Demote Zhang Liecheng from Marquis of Yecheng to Count of Yecheng, and fine him one year's salary. Zhang Lieming and Li Xiaojie are each fined one year's salary as well."

As he spoke, Zhang Zhao looked toward Jiao Jixun. Jiao Jixun immediately knelt on the floor and said: "Your servant is willing to surrender his title and resign the post of General of the Right Shenwei Guard."

"All of you resign, and leave Us to handle everything alone? Fleeing at the first sign of trouble — what kind of conduct is that?

Remove Jiao Jixun from the post of General of the Right Shenwei Guard, and appoint him to act in the General's duties with the rank of Commander. Strip him of all honorary offices and merit ranks.

Manage the Right Shenwei Guard well for Us. Let no further mishaps occur. If another mishap occurs, even We will have no recourse.

As for what you fear, rest assured: We will not fall for those people's trick. This affair ends with An Sizhong. We will absolutely not let it expand."

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