Chapter 711: The Laws of the Steppe Are Equally Cruel

Although Bayegusi felt crisis pressing in from all sides, and his father Duosage's attitude toward him had turned even harsher, he still had to seek an audience with Duosage.

Because he had not come back to Woluduo specifically to make himself miserable—he had come carrying a mission.

After being effectively abandoned by his father, Bayegusi had quickly drawn close to his maternal uncles among the Eight Tribes of the Dilie.

And standing behind the Eight Tribes of the Dilie were the Khitan—more precisely, the Khitan's awe-inspiring Empress Dowager of the Severed Wrist, Shulu Ping.

What, you ask whether Bayegusi knew the Khitan state was nearly finished?

He certainly did not know. Although word had spread across the steppe that the Han people of the Central Plains had grown powerful again, had dealt the Khitan a crushing defeat, and had even slain the Khitan Emperor in battle.

But for the people of the steppe, this was no earth-shattering matter, because the Tang people to the south had always been this formidable.

The Khitan Emperor had not even become a master of the steppe like the Uyghur Khagans of old, yet he had run off to the Central Plains to throw his weight around, and ended up thoroughly beaten by the Central Plains Tang people—was that not perfectly normal?

It seems a bit fantastical, doesn't it? This comes down to a bias in how people perceive things.

In the minds of later generations of Chinese, there seems to be a fixed image: the men of the steppe all appear equipped with iron armor, curved blades in hand, riding tall horses, coming and going like the wind, with the fierce bearing of hawks and wolves.

It seems as if smashing a Han town or even a city is an effortless matter for them.

And some barbarian chieftain will brandish his weapon and bellow: "Men of the steppe, ride south! Go plunder those Han people, timid as little lambs!"

While the Han people are basically all dressed in hemp clothes of various colors, then struck down by a single slash from a steppe cavalryman, spinning to the ground like tops.

This is a complete and utter stereotype, and moreover, this impression was mostly forced upon the public by unscrupulous screenwriters and directors of later generations.

If the Han people were all timid little lambs, how the hell would they have held on to the glittering world of the Central Plains?

Do you really think the men of the steppe don't want to come inland and live the good life, that the bitter north wind of the frontier blows so pleasantly?

Even in the final years of the Song and the Ming, what broke the Han regimes—apart from their own stupidity—was that whether it was the Mongols or the Qing, the main fighting force that ultimately conquered the realm was made up of northern Han lords or warlords.

But in the final years of the Han and the Tang, the situation was completely different.

Take this era, for example. Although the Great Tang had been in steady decline since the An Lushan Rebellion, what had decayed was only the Tang court in Guanzhong; the Military Governors in every region still brimmed with military might.

Though they no longer had the ability to march thousands of li beyond the frontier as in the glorious Tang, fighting on home ground, dealing with a few ragged steppe cavalrymen still took no great effort.

Even the Khitan—even with Shi Jingtang—as long as they dared to penetrate deep into Han territory, they suffered more defeats than victories.

So in the eyes of someone like Bayegusi, if the Khitan Emperor had actually gained a foothold in the Central Plains, that would have been the strange thing. Instead, penetrating deep into the Central Plains and getting himself killed was what counted as normal.

Correspondingly, he also never imagined that after nearly three hundred years away, an Emperor of the Central Plains would once more lead his warriors back to conquer the steppe.

So steppe tribes like the Eight Tribes of the Dilie still, to a certain extent, followed the commands of the Empress Dowager of the Severed Wrist.

Especially after Shulu Ping arrived at Kedun City (near present-day Choibalsan in Outer Mongolia) with two thousand armored cavalry, the Eight Tribes of the Dilie immediately dispatched Bayegusi westward to contact Duosage.

Because they could not deal with those two thousand armored cavalry, and the personal arrival of the Empress Dowager of the Severed Wrist signaled that the alliance against the Six Laws Sect—originally proposed by the Khitan—was about to be set in motion.

Bayegusi had not come to persuade Duosage to hand over this banner; Shulu Ping would have been only too glad to have a local powerbroker carry the banner. What Shulu Ping demanded was simply that Duosage not act on his own.

The Empress Dowager of the Severed Wrist planned to come to Woluduo in person in the spring of next year, and then convene a great assembly encompassing nearly all the steppe tribes. She had even sent people to notify the Wolangga tribe at Lake Buir.

This Empress Dowager of the Severed Wrist was old in body but not in spirit; on the verge of death, she was still thinking of securing a final chance of survival for the Khitan people.

In her vision, the future of the Khitan people lay in first relying on the Great Xianbei Mountains to survive.

Then absorbing the Merkit, the Wolangga, and part of the Shiwei tribes, restoring their original way of life, and finally, over several decades, once more becoming the hegemon of half the steppe.

This required a reasonably tight alliance to oppose the Zhou state of the Central Plains, and the spread of the Six Laws Sect gave her just such a pretext—a pretext that made the steppe tribes reluctant to submit to the Zhou state.

As for the Zubu chieftain Duosage, if he proved obedient, he could still serve as a buffer between the Khitan and the western desert tribes controlled by Zhang Zhao.

Shulu Ping simply refused to believe it. She did not believe that a Central Plains dynasty like Zhang Zhou could control the steppe forever—not even for a hundred years. The Great Tang was gone and would never return.

However, fine as the idea was, the very first step suffered a considerable setback. The Zubu chieftain Duosage only looked rough and hearty; he himself was hardly the sort of gullible, straight-talking steppe simpleton.

As a steppe chieftain who had lost his father at eleven and still managed to win back the family estate, it was impossible to achieve that without a few tricks up his sleeve.

He saw through Shulu Ping's scheme at a glance—although Shulu Ping's plan was not necessarily without benefit to Duosage.

But right now, Duosage only wanted to swiftly swallow up the Western Zubu and Southern Zubu, completing the total unification of the five Zubu tribes.

Only if Shulu Ping was willing to help him achieve this wish would Duosage consider giving her a little face.

And it was only August now, with at least seven months before the start of next spring. Duosage was in no hurry at all.

After sending away his eldest son Bayegusi, whom he had never favored, Duosage immediately summoned his son-in-law and nephew-by-marriage, Yaoluoge Jingyi.

Although Yaoluoge Jingyi was no good at leading troops in battle, he did possess political vision.

And because he had grown up in Ganzhou, compared to a steppe chieftain like Duosage he was quite well-read, so Duosage rather liked consulting Yaoluoge Jingyi on various matters.

The moment this father-in-law and son-in-law pair sat down, Duosage told Yaoluoge Jingyi everything about Bayegusi's purpose in coming—that is, the intentions of the Eight Tribes of the Dilie and the Empress Dowager of the Severed Wrist behind them.

Yaoluoge Jingyi thought for a moment. Compared to people like Duosage, he was probably the one person on the entire steppe, apart from Shulu Ping, who better understood the strength of Zhang Zhou.

No—he very likely understood it even better than Shulu Ping, because Yaoluoge knew all too well how formidable the Six Laws Sect was.

It must be understood that after he arrived on the steppe, he was immediately supported by his father-in-law Duosage, and relying on the Yaoluoge name, he quickly established a firm foothold in the Great Lake Basin.

At his peak he had more than three thousand tents and over twenty thousand tribesmen, but once the Six Laws Sect arrived, the tribesmen he could ultimately take with him numbered only two or three thousand; the rest had all thoroughly converted.

So Yaoluoge Jingyi thought it over and decided to speak in the gravest terms, for he and Duosage were now bound together. If Duosage were slain by the Zhou army, he too would have no place to stand.

"Great King, in my humble view, Shulu Ping cannot accomplish this. The strength of the Zhou army far surpasses that of the Khitan; they even possess the majesty of the Li clan's Great Tang of old, and they have something the Li clan's Great Tang never had—the Six Laws Sect that bewitches men's hearts.

My kinsmen in Ganzhou say that two successive Khitan Emperors have been slain by the Zhou army, and Khitan strength has been enormously weakened.

I fear this Shulu Ping has come with the intention of using us as cannon fodder against the Zhou people, while their Khitan people sit back and reap the benefits. Great King, you must be on your guard."

"Hahaha!" Duosage laughed heartily with great satisfaction. "My son says the Khitan are extremely weakened. I do not think that is correct. In my view, the Khitan were finished long ago!"

Yaoluoge Jingyi stared at Duosage in astonishment. "Great King, the Khitan are a great state with a hundred thousand men under arms, comparable to the old kingdom of Goguryeo! How could they be finished so quickly?"

Duosage stroked his thick, bushy beard, and on his rough-hewn face there flashed a shrewdness that did not match his appearance.

"What sort of person is that Empress Dowager of the Severed Wrist? The Khitan have been arrogant for decades—when have they ever looked us people squarely in the eye?

In ordinary times, even a Khitan army commander who came by would swagger and bluster, demanding the fattest sheep from every tribe, and the most beautiful women too.

Now the Empress Dowager of the Severed Wrist has come in person, yet she does not summon me to Kedun City for an audience. Is that not a sign that her courage has already failed?"

Yaoluoge Jingyi lowered his head and pondered for a moment, and suddenly everything became clear.

He had felt earlier that there was something wrong with the Khitan not taking the initiative to carry the banner of resistance against the Six Laws Sect this time, and now he finally understood.

The Khitan had likely not merely been badly mauled — they were probably on the verge of collapse.

"It may well be that those two thousand armored riders the Empress Dowager of the Severed Wrist brought with her were the last flower of Khitan strength!"

Yaoluoge Jingyi suddenly looked up and spoke. The moment the words left his mouth, he abruptly cried out again.

"But if that is truly so, the Zhou men's military power must be at its very peak!

Then they will not be easy to send away. Hexi and Longyou have always produced fine horses, and before the Zhou men entered the Central Plains, they were already famed for iron cavalry that came and went like the wind.

Great King, we cannot keep mixing with the Khitan. This banner — we must not raise it!"

"Hahahaha!" Duosage's laughter grew even louder. He looked at Yaoluoge Jingyi and shook his head.

"You do not understand. If I raise this banner, I become half a Great Khan of the steppe. If I do not raise it, I am merely an ordinary steppe chieftain.

This banner is a bargaining chip. Only with a chip in hand can one name a price. Hmph! Twelve myriarchies — at the very least they must give me three myriarchs!"

As he spoke, Duosage looked at Yaoluoge Jingyi, who had of his own accord made himself a head shorter, and said: "Rest easy. Once those three myriarchs arrive, I shall command one myself. Of the other two, one goes to Bagusi, and one to you!"

Yaoluoge Jingyi's heart pounded without cease — yet this was not pleasant surprise, but fright!

Apart from the ill-favored Bayegusi, Duosage had a full thirteen sons. Beyond the most favored Bagusi, at least three other sons were greatly favored as well, one of them born of his own paternal aunt.

Even if there were three myriarch posts, Duosage could not divide them evenly among his own — how could he be so generous as to give one to a man of a different surname?

And even if he was willing now, once the benefits came down later, he would almost certainly go back on his word.

And even if, ten thousand steps back, Duosage did not go back on his word, that pack of brothers-in-law great and small would find some excuse to kill him.

"The Great King is wise! But beware the Zhou cavalry as well." Yaoluoge Jingyi spoke this final line absently.

Duosage looked at Yaoluoge Jingyi with regret. "Your trouble is that you are always looking ahead and behind, too soft — not at all like a man of the steppe. So what if the Zhou cavalry is strong?

It is already the eighth month. Heavy snow will soon fall, and it will not melt until the start of spring next year at the earliest.

And once spring begins, the frozen ground on the steppe thaws into mire everywhere. Han cavalry cannot even leave the passes.

By the sixth month of next year, when the ground hardens and they ride out beyond the passes, I will already have united the tribes. If the Son of Heaven of Zhou grants three myriarchies, then I, Duosage, will serve him.

If he does not, we withdraw to Lake Buir, and return once they have gone.

For tens of thousands of iron cavalry to ride beyond the passes even once costs more than a hundred million. I do not believe the Son of Heaven of Zhou cannot reckon that account."

Yaoluoge Jingyi said nothing, but in his heart a towering wave surged. Duosage's thinking was sound. Against an ordinary Central Plains emperor, this plan would succeed almost without fail.

But as a member of the Yaoluoge family of the Ganzhou Uyghurs, who had fought decades of grinding war against the Guiyi Army, and as a fish that had slipped the net after witnessing the methods of the Shaoming Son of Heaven in Hexi, Yaoluoge Jingyi knew very well: this Shaoming Son of Heaven had never liked others setting conditions before him.

At least, not conditions delivered in such a coercive manner. If Duosage went on like this, the consequence would surely be that the Shaoming Son of Heaven would find a way to kill him.

Then what was he, Yaoluoge Jingyi, to do? This sole fish that had slipped the net from the near branch of the Yaoluoge family of the Ganzhou Uyghurs scratched at his head in his heart until it nearly split.

With death on both sides whether he followed Duosage or not, what was he to do?

Suddenly, Yaoluoge Jingyi thought of someone. He was not the only fish to slip the Yaoluoge family's net — there was another man of the Yaoluoge family, of an even nearer branch than his, who had not died.

That was Yaoluoge Jingcun, son of the former Renmei Khagan of Ganzhou and the fourth princess of the Cao family — that is, the grandson of Cao Yijin — now called Cao Yansi.

In truth, Yaoluoge Jingyi's information was still somewhat out of date. The Ganzhou Uyghurs, once the royal clan of the Uyghurs, had numbered a full three hundred thousand when the Ganzhou Uyghurs were conquered by Zhang Zhao.

Of those, only a little over three hundred were executed. Perhaps three or four thousand died as mine slaves. The rest, through Zhang Zhao's campaigns north and south, had all been pardoned one after another.

In particular, when Zhang Zhao destroyed the Li family of the Dingnan Army, he conscripted a great number of Ganzhou Uyghur mine slaves at one stroke to serve as expendable cavalry and crossbowmen.

In the present Zhang Zhou, the personal army alone could muster over a thousand Uyghur officers and men. The imperial guard contained at least one and a half battalions of Uyghur lancers. Among the scout crossbowmen of the Hanshan Division, there were at least a hundred Uyghurs.

He would soon learn that the fish who had slipped the Yaoluoge family's net were far from only himself and Cao Yansi — and that those others lived far more comfortably than he did.

Father-in-law and son-in-law each harbored their own schemes. Bayegusi, his mission unfulfilled, could only hurry back.

He had to report at once to the Empress Dowager of the Severed Wrist that Duosage had no intention of acting according to the Empress Dowager's wishes.

In his heart he meant to report his father Duosage's arrogance to the Empress Dowager of the Severed Wrist with embellishment and exaggeration, yet Bayegusi still hesitated a little.

It was not that he still had any filial feeling, but that Bayegusi had little real strength. If he used the Khitan to bring down his father Duosage, the most likely outcome was that it would simply profit his uncles of the Dilie tribe.

While his mind was in utter chaos, a dozen or so riders in the distance cut off Bayegusi's path.

Bayegusi, who had been very tense, relaxed the moment he saw clearly who had come. It was not his father Duosage's men sent to intercept him — those before him were Mergid warriors.

Hulubashi's character did not match his appearance. Just as Duosage seemed rough and bold but was in fact somewhat cunning, Hulubashi looked as though he possessed great wisdom, yet acted in a very direct manner.

For example, now: after using a dozen or so warriors to cut off Bayegusi, he had also hidden several dozen longbowmen behind a hill.

Then, in the rapid, clipped Uyghur speech of the Mergid, he put a direct question to Bayegusi, who thought himself already safe.

"The grazing lands around Wugu Mountain — the Mergid tribe very much desires them."

Wugu Mountain lies east of the later Ulaanbaatar in Mongolia. The mountain is part of the Langjuxu range, though some say that when the Champion Marquis performed the feng and shan sacrifices at Langjuxu, it was at Wugu Mountain.

Twenty-five years earlier, when Yelu Abaoji first conquered the eight Dilie tribes, he too had sacrificed to Heaven with white geese there.

East of this mountain are the eight Dilie tribes, west of it the five Zubu tribes, and north of it the Mergid tribe.

But though the positions are divided so, of the grazing lands of Wugu Mountain the Mergid tribe holds not a single patch.

For this is the sacred ground where the eight Dilie tribes and the three northern Zubu tribes sacrifice to Heaven. Every time the Mergid rode south, these two, however deep their quarrels, would join forces and give the Mergid a savage beating.

Even Bayegusi was taken aback by this direct manner of speaking. He was about to say that this was not a matter he could decide when the attendants beside him pointed behind the hill, where shadowy figures bearing Mergid longbows had appeared.

Bayegusi's face turned deathly pale in an instant. Only after a long while did he ask in a low voice: "Then what do I get?"

Hulubashi gave a chilling smile. "The Zubu have not the strength to command the steppe, but your father's heart is greater than Tengri himself.

He is certain to fail. Either the Khitan will come, or the Zhou men will come. When that happens, he will have nowhere to flee but Lake Buir."

Bayegusi understood. To go north from Woluduo to Lake Buir, one had to pass through Mergid territory — which was also why his father cultivated Hulubashi's friendship.

"To become a strong man of the steppe, to no longer sit near the door-flap when eating meat, one must seize the chance!" Hulubashi spoke what he took to be words of gold.

Bayegusi seemed to take it in as well, a fierce look gradually spreading over his face — though whether the two of them were thinking of the same thing, no one could tell.

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