Chapter 722: The Hearts of Men Lie Between Heaven and Earth

Mount Langjuxu was a watershed: west of the mountain lay the territory of the three Northern Zubu tribes, and east of it lay the territory of the eight Dilie tribes.

This region's locational advantages were similar to those of Mount Yanran — there were high mountains to block the cold winds, and snowmelt from the peaks to irrigate the pastures.

Therefore, since ancient times, no matter which steppe people it was, they had all regarded these two mountains as supremely sacred.

The only difference was that if a tribe had come from the west, they naturally placed a little more weight on Mount Yanran; if they had originated near Mount Langjuxu, they placed a little more weight on Mount Langjuxu.

So Zhang Zhao had been correct not to carve his inscription on Mount Yanran, because the two largest tribal groups on the steppe at this time — the Northern Zubu and the eight Dilie tribes — both mostly pastured around Mount Langjuxu.

The sacred mountain in their hearts referred more to Mount Langjuxu.

These two tribes were not unknown either: one later became the Kereyid tribe, and the maternal grandfathers of Mongke, Kublai, Hulagu, and Ariq Boke all came from the Kereyid.

The other became the Tatars — both were important components of the Mongol Yuan.

Given that Li Cunhui's battle at the Yanran Protectorate was a rout rather than a war of annihilation, the news certainly could not be kept hidden.

In fact, even a war of annihilation could not have kept the news hidden. Every herder household on the steppe had horses; they were as if born on horseback and could flee quickly at any time. Trying to catch them all in one net was impossible, and naturally there was no way to stop the news from leaking out.

So Zhang Zhao simply led his great army openly and directly, rolling straight toward the territory of the eight Dilie tribes, making no attempt at surprise attack.

On the twenty-second day of the ninth month, Zhang Zhao personally led the great army across Mount Langjuxu and approached the area around Pibehe City, where the Dalidi tribe of the eight Kereyid tribes pastured.

The Dalidi tribe did not dare resist. They only sent scouts to observe from a distance, and then Cao Bin led three hundred elite cavalry in a surprise raid. After losing more than a hundred men, they abandoned their main camp and fled further east.

Cao Bin then charged into the main camp that the Dalidi tribe had not had time to take with them, and discovered large quantities of millet for people to eat, dried mushrooms, dried wild-vegetable cakes, smoked meat, and dried grass for feeding livestock.

And all along the road there were carcasses of cattle and sheep that the Dalidi tribe had killed because they could not take them along.

When Zhang Zhao received the report, he laughed heartily. If the Dalidi tribe moved like this, they certainly could not get far.

They were not scattering in all directions to flee; they were heading to Kedun City, the core pasture of the eight Dilie tribes — the Khitans called it Hedong City, which in later times was the area around Choibalsan in Mongolia — to gather together.

Gathering together is excellent! That saves my Great Zhou iron cavalry from having to search for them all across the mountains and plains.

As for whether the eight Dilie tribes would run? Zhang Zhao was not worried about that at all.

These eight tribes were not just a few tens of thousands of herders, but more than two hundred thousand herders. If they left the homeland they depended on for survival, where could they hastily find land that could accommodate them?

If they truly dared to leave, then I, Sage Zhang, would dare to use fire oil to mark out the regions and set the entire pastureland of the eight Dilie tribes ablaze.

Not only would he set their pastures ablaze — Zhang Zhao would also set fire to their tents, wagons, and all other goods they could not take with them, and he would wait until the heavy snow fell in the middle of the tenth month before withdrawing south.

In that case, of the two hundred thousand Dilie herders, it was uncertain whether even twenty thousand would survive.

Therefore, the eight Dilie tribes would certainly not run. They now had only two choices: first, defeat the Zhou army, in which case they could naturally continue to survive; second, be utterly defeated, and then kneel down and become dogs.

If one wants to live, what is shameful about being a dog?

As a steppe people, if you cannot even be a good dog, that is the most incompetent display of all.

The Xiongnu, the Turks, the Xianbei, the Uyghurs, and even the Khitans — which tribe has not been a dog!

So whether fighting or surrendering, for the eight Dilie tribes right now, either was far better than running.

Reality was indeed so. When the news of Duosage's death arrived, Boli Yi, the nominal leader of the eight Dilie tribes, directly barged into Shulu Ping's great tent and began questioning her.

One had to say that the wrist-severing Empress Dowager truly had strong mental fortitude. Having suffered such a great blow, the old woman quickly calmed down.

She glanced coldly at Boli Yi, who was supposedly her distant cousin, paying no attention to his shouting, even when he declared he would go over to the Zhou people.

"You want to go over to the Zhou people? Why would the Zhou people accept your submission?

Do not forget, the Central Plains Emperor also holds the title of Nijue Yili Khagan — he is the titled Great Khan of the steppe!

And this title was jointly conferred by the Basmyl, Naiman, Kyrgyz, Uyghur, Oghuz, and Seven Rivers Karluk tribes west of the great desert and north and south of the Gold Mountains.

When the Great Khan was elected back then, you did not go. When the Central Plains Emperor formed the twelve tumens in the name of the Yili Khagan, you did not participate either, and you even took part in opposing the eastward advance of the Six Dharmas Sect.

Now that he comes to chastise you in the might of a great victory, do you think you can submit just because you want to?

If he casually accepted the submission of your eight Dilie tribes, then where would the Central Plains Emperor find rich pastures, sturdy herding slaves, and beautiful women to reward the four tumens west of the great desert who followed him?

He cannot possibly make the Han people of the Central Plains bear the cost!"

After listening, Boli Yi was stunned for a long while, and then suddenly, in uncontrollable fury, pointed at Shulu Ping, who was still dressed as the Khitan Empress Dowager.

"You vicious woman! The brave warriors of our eight Dilie tribes served you Khitans tirelessly, and now that your own state is gone, you still want to drag us down with you. How utterly ruthless!"

In the past, for those few words alone, Shulu Ping would have had Boli Yi seized and taken to Liaoyang Prefecture to sit the wooden donkey.

But now, this wrist-severing Empress Dowager had long since lost her former arrogance. She merely let out a long sigh, and then said to Boli Yi:

"Go prepare for battle! Whether or not we can win, from now on the eight Dilie tribes will follow Us in withdrawing to the area around the Great Xianbei Mountains.

The Khitan state will exist no more. Once we reach the Great Xianbei Mountains, We shall also give you the Wugu tribe. You are Our cousin, and We have no sons left. Henceforth you shall be the Emperor of the new Khitan state."

Although Boli Yi was burning with rage, the title of Khitan Emperor still shook his heart violently.

Not to mention that the greatest reason he had originally been willing to continue following Shulu Ping's command was precisely the hope of obtaining the Wugu tribe from her hands.

The eight Dilie tribes had originally been formed from Shiwei people on both sides of the Great Xianbei Mountains mixing with Turkic-speaking tribes on the steppe. If he could obtain the Wugu tribe of the Great Xianbei Mountains and form a combined Wugu-Dilie tribe, it would be enough to become a major power on the steppe.

"Yabghu, prepare for battle! The Khitan may be gone, but in the Supreme Capital at Linhuang Prefecture we have stored three hundred thousand shi of grain, one thousand sets of armor, and countless swords and spears.

As long as we repel the Zhou army, the Yabghu can go with us to dig out the grain, armor, and weapons stored there. The Dilie tribe will surely grow strong in your hands."

Yelu Dinian beside Shulu Ping finally wiped away his tears and spoke words of great seduction.

Boli Yi lowered his head and pretended to be thinking, but he knew that there truly was no choice.

Because Shulu Ping had been right about one thing: the Central Plains Emperor, the Nijue Yili Great Khan, would not accept the submission of an intact eight Dilie tribes.

An intact eight Dilie tribes was a hungry wolf; a shattered eight Dilie tribes would be an obedient vicious dog.

This was another arduous long-distance march. Setting out from Mount Langjuxu where the Northern Zubu people lived, to reach Kedun City, the core territory of the eight Dilie tribes, the straight-line distance was eight hundred li.

And in reality, even on the steppe, one could not travel in a straight line, so the journey was roughly twelve hundred li or so.

The advantage, however, was that although it was far, one would not lose the road, nor would one lack water along the way.

Because there was a great river that originated at Mount Langjuxu, flowed past Kedun City where the eight Dilie tribes lived, and finally flowed east into Lake Buyur, also called Hulun Lake, and then through Hulun Lake and the Hailar River joined the Amur River, and finally reached the sea.

And this great river, which could be counted as a tributary of the Amur, was the Kherlen River, called the Mother River by the Mongols; at this time it was called the Luju River.

Zhang Zhao led the great army along both banks of the Luju River, using small boats to carry military supplies along the way, greatly lightening the burden on the warhorses.

Therefore the two armies on the north and south of the river both advanced very quickly. Except for the rear supply army commanded by Fan Shun, Marquis of Xinxiang, all other units advanced at more than a hundred li per day.

Moreover, out of regard for the importance of the Dilie Eight Tribes and Shulu Ping, this time Zhang Zhao had finally brought along the armored cavalry commanded by Zhang Yuanhui and Li Zhaoyuan as well, intending to let these fellows witness the might of armored riders.

There was a reason the Kherlen River could later be called the mother river of the Mongols.

All along the way from Wolf Ju Xu Mountain, wherever the banks had been nourished by the Kherlen River, even though it was nearly the tenth month, one could still see scenes of lush green grass from time to time.

In the distance, where the river's waters did not reach, the pastures had mostly withered yellow.

Moreover, in this stretch the Kherlen River flowed rather slowly, and fish and shrimp abounded in its waters, while along both banks dwelt great numbers of wild oxen, wild horses, wild sheep, and foolish roe deer — large animals of considerable value.

For a fleeting moment, Zhang Zhao even thought he had arrived in the old Northeast of the textbooks, where one clubbed roe deer and scooped up fish with a gourd ladle.

Seeing this scene of abundance, the conscript cavalry from Hexi and Longyou, who had accompanied Zhang Zhao over more than three thousand li, were also greatly excited.

In truth, it was not only they — the older generation of the personal army and the imperial guard were likewise astonished.

Zhang Cheng said to Zhang Zhao with deep feeling, "Your servant had always imagined the grasslands to be bitterly cold in the extreme, yet what I have seen today is even more prosperous than certain places in Hexi.

The Sage was right — such a rich and beautiful land ought also to be the ancestral ground of our people."

Zhang Zhao laughed heartily, and somewhere in the distance someone struck up the new army song composed by our Sage Zhang.

'Have you not seen, Han Zhongjun, at twenty, bound the captives and asked for the long rope,

Have you not seen, Ban Dingyuan, in the farthest regions, light cavalry urging on the clouds of war!

A true man should hold perilous duty dear — how can he let the scholar's cap ruin this life?

How much more when the realm is imperiled as a stack of eggs, and feathered dispatches race without pause!

Cast off my brush of former days, don my wartime collar,

At one call, comrades in arms exceed a hundred thousand, singing war songs as one, all joining the army.

Cleansing the barbarian dust, vowing to sweep away the Rong slaves without regard for our lives.'

This song, born in the War of Resistance Against Japan as a song for educated youth joining the army, had always been regarded by Zhang Zhao as one of the masterpieces of modern poetry.

And it was very easy to adapt — one only had to change "comrades" to "comrades in arms" and "Japanese slaves" to "Rong slaves"; even the slight differences in pronunciation could be ignored.

In that vast expanse between heaven and earth, Shen Huzi, who came from the shores of West Lake, murmured under his breath, 'Have you not seen, Han Zhongjun, at twenty, bound the captives and asked for the long rope. Have you not seen, Ban Dingyuan, in the farthest regions, light cavalry urging on the clouds of war!' — already entranced.

Though he was a man of Jiangnan, at this moment the heroic bearing of his Han and Tang ancestors riding out beyond the frontier appeared with such clarity in his mind.

Watching the Hexi and Longyou braves who came and went like the wind, Shen Huzi clasped his hands toward the dozen or so inner yabing guards of Qianyue who had stayed with him all along and persevered to this point.

"For twenty years, I, Shen Huzi, have only now learned what a hero is. Today I am willing to follow the Sage Son of Heaven and gallop across the frontier. Even if I cannot become a Ban Dingyuan whose light cavalry in the farthest regions urge on the clouds of war, I will at least be a Han Zhongjun who repays the nation with his blood.

After this battle, if any of you gentlemen can return to Hangzhou, please tell my father: Shen Huzi would rather be a common subject of the great dynasty than an official or general of a separatist regime."

With that, he let out a great shout and galloped off with the Hexi and Longyou braves he had long since grown familiar with, his figure gradually blending in among them.

Beside him, Li Jingda of the Southern Tang watched Shen Huzi's carefree receding figure and let out a long sigh.

"Cast off my brush of former days, don my wartime collar. At one call, comrades in arms exceed a hundred thousand, singing war songs as one, all joining the army. Cleansing the barbarian dust, vowing to sweep away the Rong slaves without regard for our lives!

If my father and elder brother had possessed such resolve, why would the Sage Son of Heaven have needed to rise from Hexi and come to restore the great dynasty?

Since our Li family are descendants of the Great Tang, seeing the realm thus, what is there left to be dissatisfied with? How could we begrudge a mere patch of Jiangnan and make a mantis-like attempt to block the chariot?"

The Southern Tang envoys and imperial guards were all speechless. Along this journey, the great desert, the snow mountains, the Gobi, the grasslands — like the breadth of Sage Zhang's heart — had long since conquered them.

One military officer took off the leather helmet from his head; the man who had kept himself hidden all along revealed a resolute face and clasped his hands toward Li Jingda.

"Great King, from ancient times, whenever a Sage Son of Heaven has arisen from the Central Plains, our separatist lands in Jiangnan have immediately lost the Mandate of Heaven.

The royal aura shifts and flows, all returning to the Central Plains; obeying Heaven and answering the people, the mountains and rivers are unified.

When you return, Great King, please earnestly advise the Lord of the State: with such a Sage Son of Heaven on the throne, going to the Divine Capital to become a wealthy householder is no disgrace.

I, Chai Kehong, will not accompany you back to our country, Great King!"

It turned out this man was none other than Chai Kehong, who had been captured by the shores of Mengzhu Marsh but had always been determined to avenge himself. He had been the most unyielding resistance figure in the Southern Tang army, yet today he was finally moved by the great cause.

"Go then! Go then!" Li Jingda laughed loudly, speaking to the eager Southern Tang imperial cavalry around him.

"All of you who wish to go, go! Let the northern riders see the valor of our southern braves!"

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