Chapter 764: I Am the Heavenly Khagan

Chengde Prefecture, Yulin Park — in later ages this place would be called Mulan Hunting Ground, where the Manchu Qing emperors and a crowd of Mongol princes gathered for hunts.

In this era, it naturally became the place where the Great Zhou Emperor, I, Sage Zhang, held the Grand District Archery Rite and hunts with the chieftains of the tribes of the western desert, southern desert, northern desert, and Songmo.

But today there would certainly be no hunt, for the ancients were very particular about the seasons for hunting.

In the fourth month the animals are in the best season for putting on flesh; because of the winter before, most animals were very gaunt, with hardly any meat on their bones.

More importantly, most of the animals at this time already carry young in their bellies, and killing pregnant animals was seen by the ancients as a grave violation of the Way of Heaven — even in later ages, few people would do such a thing.

Though the hunt was cancelled, the Grand District Archery Rite — which has deeper Han traditions and which Zhang Zhao very much wished to spread to the grasslands — could perfectly take its place.

By the shore of Guiyi Lake, the place later ages would call Jiangjun Paozi at Mulan Hunting Ground, silver-white, ochre-yellow, and red great tents spread out in every direction, centered on an enormous silver palace tent.

Before the silver-white imperial great tent at the very center, besides the silver-white golden sun-and-moon great banner symbolizing the Emperor and the silver-white-bordered Three Celestial Bodies banner symbolizing Great Zhou, there also stood a silver-white banner with a golden swastika, the banner of the Six Dharma Sect.

Riluge rode a tall, large horse that clearly had Hexi dragon-horse blood, wearing a robe made of fine Khotan cotton cloth that he had never before dared even dream of.

He had deliberately opened the collar of the robe a little lower, so that others could see the mail armor he wore beneath it.

The Yedugua tribe had prospered these past few months, because they had been the first tribe received by the Supreme Heaven.

And after the Northern Zubu and the eight Dilie tribes had been dealt crushing blows, the Supreme Heaven naturally wanted to raise up a group of trusted followers.

Thus the Yedugua tribe, who had voluntarily submitted at the sight of the Six Dharma Sect banner, and the Western Zubu, who had been won over by Lu Sanlang Lu Zhen, immediately climbed above all the tribes of the Yanran Mountains.

Loud laughter came from behind him; Riluge turned to look, and saw the young men of the Yedugua tribe riding dragon horses, chasing a band of Merkits who had been passing by them and sending them fleeing in every direction.

Of course, the wind-dried mutton and flatbread the Merkits dropped became the young men's spoils.

This was the pure law of the grasslands — although everyone now believed in the Supreme Heaven and was about to go and raise the Supreme Heaven up as Heavenly Khagan, that did not stop the strong from bullying the weak wherever they pleased.

Everyone thought this was normal. Since when did a weak yellow sheep dare pass by a wolf pack?

The Merkits being driven off and plundered numbered only a few dozen, and not only were they few, every one of them looked as though they had not eaten for many days.

This place was still at least two days' journey from Chengde Prefecture, and it was very doubtful whether they could hold out until then.

Tuoheida gripped the reins tightly in his right hand until his fingers turned white; he glanced at the angry, humiliated faces of his clansmen around him and said in a deep voice.

"Everyone be careful. We'll keep away from people. This is all the disaster that fool Hulubashi brought upon the Merkits.

If we cannot reach Chengde to bow before the Supreme Heaven this time, our clansmen by the North Sea will have no way to live."

Tuoheida was the new chieftain of the Merkits. This originally quite powerful tribe, one that even the Zubu were somewhat wary of, had suffered utterly devastating blows in recent months.

Powerful Central Plains cavalry, guided by the Menggu and the Chazhala, had launched three large-scale surprise attacks on the Merkits.

At least a thousand Merkit warriors had died in these raids; the cattle, sheep, warhorses, and women carried off were beyond counting.

These crushing losses forced the Merkits to abandon the rich pastures on both banks of the Xuelingge River (the Selenge River) and flee to the harsher, colder shores of the North Sea to take refuge.

Tuoheida was a man of great experience, for he had not only traveled to the lands of the Menggu, the Zubu, and the Dilie, but had also spoken with the merchants who reached each tribe; he had even mingled among the Dilie and gone to the Khitan supreme capital of Linhuang Prefecture.

So he knew very clearly how powerful the Khitan were.

Correspondingly, how powerful must the Central Plains people who destroyed the Khitan — the legendary Heavenly Khagan Emperor — be? That needed no further saying.

So before the tribe had even retreated to their "safe house" by the North Sea, Tuoheida directly launched a mutiny.

He led the furious Merkit warriors, killed his uncle the chieftain Hulubashi, then chose the hundred strongest warriors, took Hulubashi's head, and went south to beg forgiveness from the Supreme Heaven.

But the journey was far more arduous than Tuoheida had imagined. They spent a month and a half traveling until they were a little over a hundred li from Chengde Prefecture; by then their warhorses had died until almost none remained, and of the hundred warriors only forty-odd were left.

Just as the Merkits were about to continue on their way, earth-shaking hoofbeats rang out. Tuoheida cried out in despair, abandoned the warhorses with his remaining few dozen warriors, and fled toward the distant hills.

Their warhorses were already extremely gaunt, and the hoofbeats alone told them there were at least several hundred elite riders. Trying to escape by horse was utterly impossible; their only choice was to run for the hills.

Tuoheida hoped the newcomers would take their thin horses and let them go without searching the hills. As for how they would reach Chengde Prefecture without horses and with only the last scraps of food, that was no longer something to consider now.

But things went against his wishes. The warhorses of the newcomers this time were Hexi heavenly horses, even better than those of the Yedugua tribe that had just chased them. Tuoheida and his men had not even reached the foot of the hill before they were surrounded by over a hundred riders.

A very powerfully built man wearing silver-white armor of a kind Tuoheida had never seen easily smashed through the defensive formation they had formed.

The thick horsewhip in the big man's hand lashed out mercilessly, striking Tuoheida and the Merkit warriors around him as though beating unruly livestock. Each man was desperate and humiliated, yet utterly helpless.

"Hahaha, my son is truly brave! When we see the Sage this time, your father will ask for a true Ferghana horse for you. Then you can become one of the mightiest warriors under heaven, just like the Prince of Liaoyang!"

Lu Sanlang said with a loud laugh. Toward this rough and valiant behavior of his adopted son — originally named Baketu, now renamed Luketu — he felt it suited his taste perfectly.

If Zhe Deyuan staying behind to garrison the grasslands was a bitter duty, then for Lu Sanlang it was a pleasure.

He even suspected that he might have been born to be a man of the grasslands, because everything here — whether ethics and morality or the laws of survival — fit Lu Sanlang's soul so perfectly.

And as the first grassland tribe to submit, the Western Zubu had also served as key guides several times during the Great Zhou army's campaigns beyond the frontier — and of course there was also the fact that Lu Sanlang had become the Western Zubu's leader.

This great tribe, originally part of the Zubu, had risen rapidly in status after the grassland war.

Its population had grown from just over four thousand households to six thousand, and it now possessed an elite cavalry force of six hundred riders clad in iron armor, wielding stiff bows, and riding Hexi horses.

Lu Sanlang looked at Tuoheida, who was like a dog that had lost its home, and with high spirits pointed his hand, about to have Luketu finish off this man who was clearly the leader, then absorb the remaining warriors into his own ranks.

After all, Luketu had been trained by the ghulams — his fighting ability was hard to say, but his eye for people was very sharp.

Though these people before him were gaunt, their bones were very well proportioned. Whether tall or short, once they put flesh back on, they would all make fine warriors.

But to Lu Sanlang's surprise, when these people saw the killing intent in his eyes, they did not scatter; instead they gathered around Tuoheida, shielding him with their bodies. Though there was fear in their eyes, there was even more resolve.

Lu Sanlang immediately made a gesture to stop. On the grasslands, loyal ministers and righteous men were not nonexistent, but they were very, very rare.

In the harsh natural environment of the grasslands, people's choices tended more toward those of wild beasts, and there was little room for loyal ministers and righteous men to survive.

"What tribe are you from, that a mere few dozen of you would go to pay homage to the Heavenly Khagan?" Lu Sanlang rode forward and asked in Turkic.

Tuoheida pushed aside the men blocking his way, steeled himself, and stepped forward to answer: "We are Merkits, and we wish to go to Chengde Prefecture to beg the forgiveness of the Supreme Heaven Bodhisattva."

"So they're Merkits! Father, let your son slaughter them all!" Luketu shouted.

"Yes! Yabghu, kill these Merkits — they are enemies of the Buddha!" The Western Zubu warriors around them roared as well.

Tuoheida suddenly raised high the wooden box in his hands that held Hulubashi's head.

"The enemies of the Buddha are not the Merkits — it was Hulubashi! He deceived us and kept us from becoming believers of the Supreme Heaven. The Merkits have already killed Hulubashi. We are not enemies of the Buddha!"

Lu Sanlang waved a hand, and the shouting stopped. The Western Zubu, including Yulizi and the mother and son Luketu, were now all deeply obedient to Lu Sanlang, because Lu Sanlang's identity as a Han man had brought the Western Zubu considerable benefits.

Several Western Zubu men who had seen Hulubashi rode forward, opened the box, and after studying the long-dried head for a good while, nodded to Lu Sanlang.

The head in the box was indeed that of the former Merkit chieftain Hulubashi.

Having received confirmation, Lu Sanlang's expression instantly softened. He smiled and nodded at Tuoheida. "A lead wolf who knows what's good. I hope you can earn the forgiveness of Boundless Heaven."

With that, Lu Sanlang waved a hand at Luketu. "Give them fifty horses and leave them two days' worth of grain."

Tuoheida had already prepared himself to be killed. Hearing this, he stood stunned for a long moment before bowing deeply to Lu Sanlang in gratitude.

"Yabghu, today's generous gift will be remembered forever by Tuoheida of the Merkit. One day I will repay it tenfold."

Lu Sanlang waved his hand, spurred his horse, and led his clansmen south. His voice drifted back from afar.

"If you can earn Boundless Heaven's forgiveness, then from now on we will be brothers. These fifty horses are a gift from the Western Zubu to a brother tribe."

Tuoheida was so moved that tears nearly came. It was the first time he had felt the benefits of being a believer in Boundless Heaven, and he swore in his heart that he would surely earn Boundless Heaven's forgiveness.

Luketu drew near Lu Sanlang, somewhat resentful. "Father, why give precious warhorses and food to wild dogs?"

Lu Sanlang laughed heartily. "My son, you must understand one principle: everything on this steppe is a gift from Boundless Heaven.

Even a wild dog, if Boundless Heaven is willing to accept him, can become the noblest wolf king.

Conversely, if the noblest wolf king defies Boundless Heaven, he will instantly become the lowest, most despised wild dog that everyone beats.

Among Boundless Heaven's twelve myriarchies there is the Merkit myriarchy, so no matter how the Merkit are struck down, they can still remain one of the powerful tribes of the steppe. We are merely following the will of Boundless Heaven."

Feng'en Lodge lay northwest of Chengde Prefecture, below Modou Ridge, beside the Luan River.

The great majority of tribal chieftains coming from the steppe entered Chengde Prefecture from here.

For on the boundless steppe, the Luan River was the clearest guide. As long as one followed the river, one would surely reach Chengde Prefecture.

Feng'en Lodge had been established precisely to receive these tribal chieftains arriving from the steppe. Upon arriving here, they not only had to bathe and purify themselves under the arrangements of Ministry of Rites officials, but also had to study all manner of court ceremonial.

Zhang Zhao had deliberately made the ceremonies somewhat tedious, repeatedly tormenting the patience of these crude steppe nobles.

If anyone could not endure such tedious ceremony and fled, then his tribe could be handed over to someone else.

The fourth year of Shaoming, the eighteenth day of the fourth month, an auspicious day and hour. As the first ray of morning light appeared on the distant horizon, a Brocade Guard captain in silver-white flying-fish robes climbed the tall watchtower.

In his hand he held a silver-white banner. When he waved the banner left and right atop the watchtower, the three trumpeters on the tower sounded their ox-horn horns with a long, drawn-out wail.

One, two, three — the neighboring watchtowers sounded their horns one after another, and then the great drums of the army began to beat.

Amid the drumming, the drum and music masters of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices struck up the "Music of the Sage Son of Heaven Facing the Four Seas and Eight Wastes" from every corner of the encampment.

This was the crowning masterpiece of flattery produced by the Court of Imperial Sacrifices after Zhang Zhao restored the court and its ceremonial music tradition lost since the mid-Tang, gathering music masters from all under heaven.

The tribal chieftains from the steppe were lodged according to twelve-colored tents, corresponding to Zhang Zhao's twelve steppe myriarchies.

They had long since heard this ceremonial music at Feng'en Lodge until their ears had grown calluses, and of course they knew what they were supposed to do when this music sounded.

At once, the chieftains hurriedly donned the robes the Emperor had bestowed upon them, and beneath their corresponding banners, led their guards out of the encampment area and galloped toward the archery field by Guiyi Lake.

Zhang Zhao sat upright atop his Son of Heaven's six-horse carriage. Before the carriage, thirty eminent monks of the Six Dharma Sect, all of the Great Virtue rank or above, held ritual implements and chanted sutras as they led the way.

The carriage slowly passed before the chieftains of the steppe and Songmo tribes. They one after another chanted the Buddha's name and prostrated themselves on the ground.

Behind Zhang Zhao's carriage, the Left Yulin Guard's Wind-Fire Raider Battalion, personally commanded by Qu Qilang Qu Yanqing, served as escort.

Beneath the great fluttering banner of the Left Yulin Guard, three hundred fierce cavalrymen in cloth-faced iron armor but with unarmored horses held cavalry lances horizontally and followed in solemn formation.

The cavalry lances in their hands were nearly all heirloom masterpieces, over one zhang in length, capable of thrusting and hammering, both sturdy and full of resilience — far beyond comparison with ordinary sabers and the inferior lance-hammers carried by steppe cavalry.

Their mounts were also the finest Hexi heavenly horses, with shoulder heights all exceeding five chi three cun. Compared to them, the horses of the steppe looked as small as donkeys.

Besides these three hundred fierce cavalrymen, there were also two hundred hussars of the Wind-Fire Raider Battalion wearing sleeveless chain mail, compound iron helmets, and hard bows, with sabers hanging from their saddles.

Over their chain mail they wore an outer garment made of brocade, looking at once rich and robust. The riders were full of spirit, carrying an air of looking down upon all under heaven.

Behind them came the three hundred fully armored cavalry of the Mountain-Shaking Battalion, led by Li Zhaoyuan. Li Zhaoyuan was the nephew of Little Aunt Li Ruoliu, and his father was Li Ruotai, the first-generation fully armored cavalry general of Great Zhou.

These three hundred fully armored cavalry had both horse and rider armored. Warhorse and man alike were wrapped in thick armor plates, with only a pair of eyes exposed. Their warhorses not only stood over five chi at the shoulder, but their legs were thicker than a bowl's rim and very long.

There were many on the steppe who knew horses, and at a glance they could tell that such warhorses not only had tremendous load-bearing capacity, but their sprinting speed — no, rather their instantaneous burst speed — was surely terrifyingly fast.

The moment these eight hundred riders appeared, the steppe tribal chieftains who had just been buzzing like flies instantly fell silent, as if someone had drugged them mute.

When the three hundred fierce cavalrymen came out, the chieftains of the tribes around Yanran Mountain and Langjuxu Mountain in Mobei closed their mouths, because this kind of cavalry — armored riders on unarmored horses — was naturally their nemesis.

Because these tribes were somewhat closer to Han territory, they could still possess a small number of armored soldiers, but these were utterly incomparable to Great Zhou's fierce cavalry.

Especially since these fierce cavalrymen also possessed powerful warhorses and fine cavalry lances. Once battle was joined, if ten steppe warriors could bring down one fierce cavalryman, that would already count as decent fighting strength.

And when the two hundred hussars in chain mail or ringed armor appeared, the chieftains of the tribes from north of Langjuxu Mountain to the Northern Sea and Lake Buha all lowered their heads in terror.

They did not fear the fierce cavalry, because such iron-armored cavalry could hardly reach the bitter cold lands north of Langjuxu Mountain.

Even if they barely made it there, the tribes could withdraw at leisure. By evasion alone, they could wear these iron-armored cavalrymen out.

But these hussars were different. Their armor weighed only a dozen or so jin, placing little burden on their warhorses, and they were more skilled at fighting with bow and saber.

Thus they could use steppe methods of warfare against the steppe cavalry of Mobei. This had been superbly confirmed two months earlier.

Tuoheida looked at those hussars, and his mind recalled those terrifying scenes one after another.

It was these cavalrymen who, guided by Mongols or Tazhal people, often appeared and vanished like ghosts around the tribes.

And then... and then there was no "then." Their horses were faster, so they could calmly catch up to the tribe's warriors and cut them down one by one.

Their bows were better, often inflicting mass casualties from a greater distance.

Their armor was also good. Even heavy arrows shot from the Merkit's great bows could hardly put these riders out of action.

Compared to them, the Merkit's horses — more tolerant of bitter cold and with greater endurance — looked as small as donkeys or even wild dogs.

The arrowheads the Merkit ground from the hardest bone could not penetrate the Zhou men's iron armor at all.

Yet a single one of their iron arrowheads could kill a Merkit warrior wearing oxhide armor.

These devilish iron cavalry of the Zhou were simply not something the Merkit could oppose.

As for the fully armored cavalry commanded by Li Zhaoyuan, their primary deterrent targets were the Khitan, Shiwei, Dada, and other tribes at Dading Prefecture and Linhuang Prefecture, just north of Chengde.

These tribes were close to Han territory, so even fully armored cavalry could reach them quickly. And although they could more easily obtain iron armor and weapons than the tribes of Mobei and Moxi, they had no ability whatsoever to fight back against fully armored cavalry.

"By the Sage's decree, the four Protector-Generals of the Western Desert, come forward for an audience!"

After Zhang Zhao descended from the carriage, the nearby attendants loudly announced the summons, their voices passing down one after another, until at the several hundred armored guards it became a thunderous roar.

Of the four myriarchies of the Western Desert, they were: the Great Protector-General of the Kirghiz, Li Guizhong; the Great Protector-General of the Ili Myriarchy, Pugu Fengde; the Great Protector-General of the Naiman Myriarchy, Aluozhe; and the Great Protector-General of the Basmyl Personal Guard Myriarchy, Ashina Chuo.

The brave young men and beautiful women selected from the ten-thousand households, bearing white yak tails and other tribute, came trembling to kneel before Zhang Zhao, saying, "The four ten-thousand households of the western desert present themselves."

Zhang Zhao accepted their tribute one by one. These young men were all sons or grandsons of the greater and lesser chieftains of the four ten-thousand households; they had come, according to steppe custom, to serve as hostages.

Those beautiful women would also serve in the palace as maidservants, and after five years of service, most would be released to return to their original tribes.

And after they returned, having served as palace women of the Supreme Heaven, their status would naturally multiply, and most would marry chieftains of the hundred-household and thousand-household ranks in their various tribes.

Then, ten or twenty years later, their sons would in turn come to Zhang Zhou's palace as hostages and become guards of the Emperor, and their daughters would likewise come to the palace to serve as maidservants, just as they had.

Thus it would pass down generation after generation, until every prominent figure on the steppe was bound to the Han court by countless threads.

When it comes to ethnic fusion and binding all peoples tightly together, I, Zhang the Supreme Heaven, have the best methods.

Even Li Erfeng could not match this Zhang Erfeng's mastery, for this is a method refined over thousands of years of accumulated experience.

Zhang Zhao accepted their tribute gifts, then bestowed in return large quantities of brocade, cloth, refined sugar, premium tea bricks, and the like.

The more such luxuries were bestowed, the better; once they grew accustomed to them, they would never be able to do without them.

Of course, most importantly, Zhang Zhao began dispatching the eminent monks of the Six Dharma Sect, who had just served as guides before his carriage, to the various tribes, along with gifts of Buddha images and sutras.

Only in places that received an eminent monk dispatched by Zhang Zhao and a bestowed Buddha image could temples be established.

And only then could the monastic offices below the eminent monks — Dharma masters, abbots, chief monastic overseers, and monastic administrators — be held by members of those tribes.

After the four tribes of the western desert came the three ten-thousand households of the southern desert — the Western Zubu, the Yedugua, and the Dilie — presenting themselves.

After them came the three ten-thousand households of the northern desert — the Menggu Chazhala, the Merkit, and the Wolang Gai Shiwei — along with the two ten-thousand households of the Upper and Lower Khitan Eight Tribes.

The greater and lesser chieftains of the twelve ten-thousand households presented themselves one by one, but Zhang Zhao enfeoffed only Lu Sanlang as Grand Protector-General of the Zubu Ten-Thousand Households, and Yelu Sizhong as Grand Protector-General of the Lower Khitan Eight Tribes Ten-Thousand Households. All the other tribes received only a scattering of thousand-household titles.

The meaning was clear: until they proved their absolute loyalty, the posts of Grand Protector-General over these ten-thousand households would remain vacant, and during that vacancy, affairs would naturally be coordinated by the eminent monks and monastic officials dispatched to each tribe.

Afterward, Zhang Zhao held the grandest village archery ceremony and great banquet by the shore of Guiyi Lake.

At this assembly, the chieftains from all the steppe tribes jointly acclaimed Zhang Zhao as the Great Khan and Heavenly Khagan of all the people of the western desert, southern desert, northern desert, and Songmo!

When the great banner of the Nijue Yili Khagan, symbol of the western desert steppe, slowly descended, and the great banner in pure Han style — silver-white bordered, with golden tassels, golden sun and moon, and the swastika emblem — rose in its place, Zhang Zhao had finally completed the most crucial step.

For the first time, he had brought the steppe tribes almost entirely within the control of the central court.

Although this was still a dual-system empire of Han lands and steppe, compared to the Great Han's brutal slaughter and the Great Tang's false dual-system empire, Zhang Zhou had undoubtedly taken another great stride forward.

(End of Chapter)

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