Chapter 894: Final Chapter: Forty Years of Heaven and Earth Turned Upside Down

A cold wind blew over Xiping Fort. Chen Achong stood on the cliff edge outside the fort, waiting for his sons to return.

A thousand years later in history, this place would be called Qingshizui — the birthplace of the first cavalry company of the Workers' and Peasants' Red Army.

But in Zhang Zhou, Xiping Fort was also a city of heroes. From the time our Sage Zhang entered Liangzhou, a total of one hundred and forty-seven men from Xiping Fort had followed the grain convoys to war, and thirty-two of them had so far died on the battlefield.

No — it should be thirty-three now.

Drum and pipe music wound its way up from the valley floor. Colorful banners stretched out in a long procession, men wearing golden mingguang armor, horses draped in dazzling orange-red barding, their outer robes — baring the right arm — made of roundel-patterned brocade, rich beyond measure.

Such attire was not something ordinary people could wear, nor ordinary soldiers and officers.

In the Central Plains, it required an official rank of at least the thirty-second grade, Attendant Guard of the seventh rank — which among military ranks had already left the range of low-ranking officers and counted as a mid-ranking officer.

Outside the Central Plains, only those enfeoffed as lords or barons, or those holding the rank of Chief Commander of the Three Guards under a great king, could wear it.

And now, at the foot of the mountain below Xiping Fort, nearly a hundred such mid-ranking officers and enfeoffed vassals had appeared at once.

Amid solemn, mournful drum and pipe music, they escorted a precious casket made of sacred sandalwood from India toward Xiping Fort.

Inside the precious casket was no gold, jewels, or jade, but the ashes of a hero fallen in battle.

The young men of Xiping Fort were uniformly dressed in white robes, with plain-colored headbands wrapped around their foreheads. On the headbands were written their names, native places, and heroic mottos. When they saw the mounted procession approaching from below, they immediately spurred their horses forward to meet it.

When they reached the ash casket, borne in the hands of a valiant general in golden armor, the young men one after another removed the headbands from their brows and wrapped them around the casket, then followed the procession to the main gate of Xiping Fort.

At the main gate, the magistrate of Baishui County, dressed in green official robes with a netted cap over his hair, together with the inspector of the Baishui Patrol Office beside him, wrapped a silver-white Three Stars banner — just delivered by fast horse from the imperial city of the Divine Capital — around the sacred sandalwood casket now covered in plain headbands.

"My son!"

Only then did Chen Achong's old wife, supported by a crowd of women at the gate, burst out wailing. Several times she tried to step forward and stroke the sacred sandalwood casket, but her grief was so extreme that she could not summon the strength.

Chen Achong was still at the cliff's edge. He covered his eyes, suppressing his sobs, and wept a few choked sounds. Tears streamed down his cheeks and wound their way across his aged face.

After a long while, Chen Achong wiped away his tears with his sleeve. Then he quickly changed into the jian'gao ceremonial garb the Sage had bestowed upon him after the capture of Xiazhou.

He wore a red-lapelled robe, a red cloak over it, a red headband around his brow, a quiver hanging at his right side, twin bows wrapped at his left, black leather boots on his feet, and a ring-pommel hengdao saber sunk deep in its scabbard.

Chen Achong strode forward, like a mountain god or earth deity emerging from the valley. One hand on his silver-mounted saber, he gazed at his son's ash casket and sang aloud:

"In the sixth month the Fire Mountains burn hotter still; at Chiting Pass the road is empty of travelers. I know you are long accustomed to crossing Qilian City — how could you grieve at the sight of the moon over Luntai?"

The armored soldiers stirred slightly. Zhang Xianyu took the lead in removing his helmet, held it in his right hand, and then sang out in response:

"Dismount and linger awhile in the wineshop; I send you ten thousand li west to strike the Hu. Glory is won only from horseback — truly, a hero, a man among men."

Chen Achong knew Zhang Xianyu — after all, he was an old Guiyi Army man. Fighting back tears, he comforted his weeping wife, then stepped forward.

Red robes mingled with graying hair, Chen Achong stood ramrod straight. From his fourth son, whose tears had never stopped, he took the sacred sandalwood casket holding his third son's ashes, and looking at Zhang Xianyu, he said:

"Great King, when Sanlang departed, this old man sang that very song — 'Seeing Off Vice Commissioner Li to the Western Garrison' — to send him on his way. I ask you, Great King: was Sanlang a hero, a true man?"

Zhang Xianyu sniffed, and also straightened his body. "To answer my grand-uncle: Third Uncle was my personal attendant. From the city of Mulu onward, in dozens of battles great and small, he charged first every time.

Outside the city of Mashhad he cut down enemy generals and seized their banners; beneath the walls of Tehran he shot and killed twenty-three enemy chieftains.

At the decisive battle of Little Lone Mountain, Third Uncle and eighty brave warriors fought to the death in the first assault. He cut down dozens of barbarian foes with his blade and broke the enemy's ten-thousand-man formation.

In the end, his warhorse stumbled, and he fell in a foreign land. He was a true hero of the Great Zhou, a fine son of Huaxia!"

"Good!" Chen Achong shouted. His eyes red-rimmed, he held his head as high as he could, both hands ceaselessly stroking the sacred sandalwood ash casket.

"Thirty years ago, it was I who received the ashes of Duke Wujing of Qucheng from the Sage's own hands. My son, you too are the third son — you have not shamed your Third Uncle!"

The Duke Wujing of Qucheng whom Chen Achong spoke of was his elder brother — Chen Sanlang, ranked seventy-ninth among the one hundred and eight Founding Followers, posthumously enfeoffed as Duke of Qucheng Commandery with the posthumous name Wujing.

"A true hero — he has not shamed our Xiping Fort!"

"Well done, Third Brother Chen! He killed over a hundred barbarians — a worthy death!"

"A real man should be like Chen Sanlang — ranging ten thousand li, spreading the glory of our people."

"Sanlang is truly worthy of being a descendant of Emperor Gaozu Wu — now he can face his ancestors in heaven with pride!"

"Wei Sanlang, 'Tiger-Leaping-the-Ravine,' veteran trooper of the Baishui Patrol Office, has come to see off Third Brother Chen."

"Wen Xiaowu, Captain of the Qiji Society of the Anren Patrol Office, has come to see off Third Brother Chen."

Amid cries of "May the soul return," the common folk of Xiping Fort and the surrounding villages all came to watch the spectacle, and everyone was full of praise.

One after another, stout fellows from every mountain and peak announced their names, coming to see off the young Chen Sanlang, that hero.

The young men watched and listened, their faces flushing red one by one. Though their bodies were at Xiping Fort, their hearts had long since flown to the battlefield.

Chen Achong had his eldest son, who remained at his side to care for him in old age, bow to all around in thanks on his behalf.

This "seeing off" was no mere formality of words — it meant staying until the day of the funeral to carry the coffin up the mountain. In the countryside of this era, and even in the countryside of later ages, that was a very great kindness.

"That my son fell in battle is indeed a sorrowful thing. But today so many fine young men have returned home. Do not let one old man's family grief spoil the joy of ten thousand households' reunions. In three days, this old man will invite all you heroes back to Xiping Fort to drink wine and eat meat."

How righteous! Even Zhang Xianyu could not help but sigh in admiration.

Of the fifty-odd men who had gone to war from Xiping Fort, apart from one who died in battle earlier and one who died of illness, only Chen Achong's son Chen Sanlang had fallen. The rest had either brought money home or returned in person.

But the Chen family was the foremost family of Xiping Fort. Chen Achong's elder brother was a Founding Follower general of extraordinary status. If their family held a funeral, the other villagers naturally could not celebrate joyfully.

So Chen Achong set the funeral for three days later precisely to avoid disturbing other families' happiness. Truly righteous.

Zhang Xianyu did not leave, because his task was not yet complete. Although Chen Sanlang had died in battle, before his death he had already been Chief Commander of the Central Guard under Zhang Xianyu, Prince of An. In the decisive battle against the Arabs he had again won great merit, and he could at least be enfeoffed as a lord, governing four thousand households and thirty thousand people.

According to Chen Sanlang's last wishes, this estate was to pass to a son chosen from among his brothers' children to be adopted as his heir, who would then go to Persia upon reaching adulthood to inherit his title.

If there were no brothers in the family, or if the brothers' offspring were also few, the title would be revoked.

Of the wealth obtained, one portion would go to support his parents in old age, and one portion would enshrine him in the Shrine of Loyal Heroes Who Went West, where the state would thereafter perform sacrifices, so that in heaven he might still enjoy offerings of blood and incense.

But unlike the quiet sorrow of the Chen family of Xiping Fort in Longyou, the Wei family of Qian County in Guanzhong presented an entirely different scene.

After the Five Wei Brothers went west, the court gave old man Wei twenty-five strings of cash as consolation money and left him one hundred mu of permanent land, instantly causing the Wei family's income to soar.

However, it was not without aftereffects.

The Five Wei Brothers had originally been the overlords of the Xinyang Patrol Office's territory in Qian County. Wei Dalang and Wei Sanlang had relied heavily on the formidable fighting strength of their five brothers to swagger through the countryside.

But now that the Five Wei Brothers were gone, a new generation of village bullies quickly filled the void.

At first, perhaps awed by the reputation of the Five Wei Brothers, they did not dare make trouble for Wei Da and Wei San. But as time passed, their courage grew.

Wei Sanlang gripped a hoe in his hands, his eyes fixed dead on a fat man in the distance swaggering as if he owned the world.

The fat man carried a bench over, planted himself squarely in the middle of a crossroads, and looked at Wei San with contempt.

Behind this crossroads was the home of Wei San's future father-in-law.

His betrothed, Lady Li, was huddled with her mother, trembling with fear, tears welling in her eyes. Lady Li looked despairingly at Wei San, who held a hoe but never dared to step forward.

"Wei Sanlang, do you fucking think your five brothers are still around? You think you can still shit and piss all over me, Niu Er?

Take a piss and look at yourself. With Wei Yinghu and the others gone, what the hell are you?

Let me tell you, I've already handed the betrothal gifts for the Li family's second daughter to Old Man Li. She's my woman now, not yet through the door. If you come around again, you donkey-fucker, I'll break your legs!"

With that, Niu Er turned to a stooped old man beside him, who wore an ingratiating look, and asked, "Isn't that right, Father-in-law? Your son-in-law speaks true?"

"True, of course it's true! Master Niu has already given twenty strings of cash as betrothal gifts."

"How can you do this!" Wei Sanlang was frantic. He stared at Old Man Li in disbelief, so angry his lips began to tremble. "I clearly gave the betrothal gifts first. How can one family accept gifts from two suitors?"

Old Man Li found his nerve now. He glared. "What betrothal gifts? I never agreed those were betrothal gifts. Wei San, you'd best go home, or you'll get a beating soon."

The matter was indeed troublesome. Wei Sanlang's betrothal procedure had been far too crude, and now that someone had seized on that flaw, even taking it to the authorities would win him little support.

His only hope was Old Man Li, but clearly Old Man Li preferred Niu Er, a new-generation bully with muscle in the village.

But while Old Man Li was willing, his daughter, Li Erniang, was not.

A brute like Niu Er would not hesitate to beat his own mother and sisters. If she married into his house, wouldn't she be beaten to death? No matter how she looked at it, marrying the honest, hardworking, and well-off Wei Sanlang was far better.

"Sanlang, I don't want to marry into the Niu family! I don't want to marry Niu Er!"

Hearing his beloved's heart-wrenching cries, Wei Sanlang broke down sobbing too. The hoe he had raised fell weakly to the ground.

He had been an honest boy since childhood. Apart from knowing how to toil in the fields, he didn't even dare crack the whip hard when herding cattle. How could he dare fight a fat, strong bully like Niu Er?

Even if he did step up, he would most likely lose.

Seeing Wei Sanlang so helpless, hearing Li Erniang's heart-wrenching cries, Niu Er felt not the slightest discomfort, not the least sympathy. Instead, he grew more excited.

He rose to his feet, gripping his staff, and advanced step by step, frightening Wei Sanlang into a cold sweat as he stumbled backward.

"You pig-dog of a dumb beast, you dare compete with me for a woman? Today I'll teach you what real trouble means!"

"Whoa!" The villagers gathered around cried out in alarm. A few who had wanted to intervene saw how savage Niu Er was and scrambled to back away, none daring to step forward.

Seeing Niu Er's menacing approach, Li Erniang, heart aching for her lover, broke free of her mother's grasp and rushed at Niu Er, wailing. Father Wei, Mother Wei, and Sister-in-law Wei also hurried forward to block him.

Brute as Niu Er was, he still didn't dare strike too hard at an old man and old woman.

I, Zhang Zhou, proclaim that I govern the realm with loyalty and filial piety. If Niu Er beat Wei Sanlang, as long as the injuries weren't serious, he might not even have to pay for medicine.

But if he injured Father Wei and Mother Wei, who were at the age of knowing Heaven's will, he would certainly be hauled to the county office for a caning.

So Niu Er tucked in his clothes, not daring to use his staff, and simply shoved and pushed Father Wei and Mother Wei to the ground.

As for Sister-in-law Wei, she hadn't dared step forward at all. She helped her fallen mother-in-law up, and the two women wailed together.

"Erlang! Silang! Come back and see! Our family is being bullied!"

Only now did Sister-in-law Wei realize how precious those five brothers had been — the ones who could each eat dozens of catties of cornmeal buns at a single meal.

"You dare hit my father and mother? I'll fight you to the death!" Wei Sanlang's eyes finally went red, and with a roar he charged.

But he truly was not cut out for fighting. He raised the hoe but couldn't bring himself to smash it down on Niu Er's head. A moment's hesitation, and Niu Er kicked him square in the chest, sending him sprawling. The hoe clattered to the ground.

Then Niu Er struck him across the shin with his staff. The searing pain sent Wei San rolling on the ground. The only dignity he could cling to was trying not to scream.

Niu Er was utterly pleased with himself, feeling magnificent. But just then, Li Erniang ran over and threw herself over Wei Sanlang, whose shin was black and blue, and began wailing.

"Fuck your mother, I'll beat you two adulterous dogs to death!"

Now it was Niu Er's turn to lose his composure. As if he had already been cuckolded, he pulled a long dagger from his waist, clearly intent on killing.

"Niu Er!" At that exact moment, a clear, sharp shout rang out from the distance.

The crowd turned to look. On a distant slope, a handsome young man in a dark-green martial outfit led a warhorse, man and horse like a dragon, striding over with swift, meteoric grace.

"When the tiger is away from the mountain, the monkey calls himself king. Three years gone, and you've dressed yourself up like a proper man, you little shit!"

The others hadn't yet made out who the young man was, but Niu Er was struck as if by lightning. He let out a sudden shriek.

"Wei Yingbiao? How are you back?"

The newcomer was none other than Wei Yingbiao — ranked fifth across the Five Western Provinces, but actually seventh in the Wei family, the youngest and most promising of the five Wei brothers known as the Five Biaos.

Seeing such a killer suddenly return, Niu Er abandoned both staff and dagger and bolted.

Wei Yingbiao immediately swung onto his horse. With a clatter of hooves, he charged right up behind Niu Er and gave him a light shove, sending him tumbling across the ground.

Then Wei Yingbiao leaped off his horse, dragged Niu Er like a wild dog before his parents and brother's family, broke off a bamboo branch, and lashed him across the face and body without pause, beating him until his hair flew loose, his body was swollen and bruised, and he howled without cease.

Father Wei, who had been shoved to the ground, scrambled up at once. Watching his youngest son wield the bamboo rod with such gallant bearing, he laughed so hard he doubled over.

No one knew how long the beating went on, until blood ran from Niu Er's mouth and nose. Then the sound of a gong rang out, and in the distance a column of troops advanced, carrying banners the villagers did not recognize.

Niu Er spotted the man leading the way up front — it seemed to be his brother-in-law, the constable of the Xinyang Patrol Office. He immediately scrambled and crawled toward him, exaggerating his grievances as he lodged his complaint.

By law, beating and injuring another without cause was a crime — though of course it only counted if the magistrate was willing to bother with such a trifle.

The so-called constable was not the constable of a Ming or Qing yamen, but one of the two deputies of the patrol chief who headed the Patrol Office at this time.

Of the two, the clerk managed the Patrol Office's documents, registers, and logistics, while the constable was chiefly responsible for managing the active patrol soldiers — that is, the rotating sworn followers.

Thus in the countryside, a constable's authority was by no means small. Father Wei, who had just been laughing, grew worried again.

But Niu Er was destined to kick an iron plate today. No sooner had he finished speaking than his constable brother-in-law went weak in the knees and dropped to the ground with a thud.

"Patrol Chief He, this Niu Er has been terrorizing the village. How should he be dealt with by law?" asked Zhang Xianjing, his face somewhat dark, from atop a tall white horse.

"Ten strokes of the rod, and exile eight thousand li." Patrol Chief He, sweat streaming down his face, answered loudly.

I, Zhang Zhou, am just that overbearing — exile is a full eight thousand li, because if it were only three thousand li, the man might not even cross the border.

Zhang Xianjing looked at the bedraggled Niu Er and burst out laughing. "A bit of a brute, but he's got guts. Send him to Dingyuan Province, and he might make a fine frontier guard."

With that, the future emperor cast a light glance at the constable brother-in-law beside Niu Er. The constable brother-in-law shuddered, and his face went deathly pale.

After a long moment, under the murderous stares of Patrol Chief He and County Magistrate Zhao of Qian County, the constable brother-in-law slowly knelt.

"Fourth Young Lord, I have failed to govern my own household and am unfit to remain in this post. Fortunately, my skills with bow, horse, spear, and staff have not been neglected. Allow me, your humble servant, to escort Niu Er to Dingyuan."

Zhang Xianjing was satisfied. Nodding, he smiled again: "You are indeed a brave warrior of the realm. I shall write a letter for you. Once you reach Dingyuan, as long as you serve well, you need not fear lacking a noble title."

This constable was due for misfortune. On the way here, Zhang Xianjing had received a report from the Brocade Guard that this constable had repeatedly bullied and oppressed the villagers.

None of it was any great crime, but there were simply too many offenses. Zhang Xianjing had been planning to have the local authorities punish him as soon as he returned, and now the man had conveniently delivered himself to his door.

"However, Fourth Young Lord, Wei Yingbiao also struck my wife's brother. The Sage constantly teaches us to uphold the law impartially, and today we must not show favoritism either." The constable brother-in-law, it turned out, knew a thing or two about the law.

But Wei Yingbiao burst out laughing. "Let me inform you, Constable, my home is in Dingyuan. There is no need for any exile at all.

As for the caning, I hold the rank of Palace Guard of the Central Guard, twenty-ninth grade, a vice commander of the lateral division. By law, I may redeem it with payment."

The constable brother-in-law's head drooped, and he had not another word to say.

Wei Yingbiao's father was now growing excited, calling out to Wei Yingbiao again and again from a distance.

Palace Guard of the Central Guard! In the army, he could serve within as a commandant of the personal or palace guards, or without as a Commander of a garrison command; posted outside, he would be a Troop Supervisor of a prefecture. The old man could not help his excitement.

However, Wei Yingbiao's twenty-ninth-grade Palace Guard of the Central Guard, as a vice commander of the lateral division, had been earned in the five provinces of the far west and could not be transferred back to the interior.

It was meant for accumulating seniority and rank in the vassal states where Xia lords ruled over barbarian subjects. In equivalence, it was roughly equal to a high-ranking lord or a vice commander of the Great King's Three Guards.

Wei Yingbiao did not go over to his father at once. Instead, he looked at Zhang Xianjing and said: "Fourth Young Lord, your servant believes that to prevent such incidents from recurring, the authorities might be asked to inscribe characters upon the door lintels of the western expedition's brave men, to honor their achievements in ruling barbarian subjects as Xia lords.

Should anyone bully or assault the families of the western expedition's brave men, the authorities ought to punish them severely."

Zhang Xianjing laughed aloud for the third time. Wei Yingbiao's proposal was crude, but not without possibility of being carried out.

This western expedition had opened his eyes, showing him how vast the space to the west truly was, and he was naturally willing to provide more safeguards for those who went west to rule barbarian subjects as Xia lords.

"Wei Qing, you are indeed a great talent, soon to be the son-in-law of the Zheng fief. Truly a man of insight. I shall give it careful thought. For now, go home and reunite with your parents."

Several days later, the villagers of Xinyang Patrol Station in Qian County learned that the Wei family's seventh son, Wei Yingbiao, had caught the eye of the Great King of Zheng, Bai Congxin, who had promised him a marriage alliance. This return home was precisely to discuss it with his parents.

Marriage, after all, follows the command of one's parents.

If Wei Yingbiao's father did not object, Wei Yingbiao would study for two years at the Zhaowu Academy in the Divine Capital, then return to Hezhong to wed the sixth daughter of the Great King of Zheng, Bai Congxin — the Princess of Baihe of the Zheng fief. From then on, his prospects would be at least those of a lord, perhaps even a regional governor.

A farm boy, gone west for three years, not only able to rise to the rank of regional governor but also to marry a princess of the royal house — this caused an enormous sensation throughout Qian County, even all of Guanzhong and the whole realm, making the pursuit of merit and achievement in the west all the more popular.

A month later, Zhang Xianjing led part of the western expedition army back to the Divine Capital, Luoyang. Zhang Zhao personally came out of the city to welcome him, held a grand ceremony of welcome for Zhang Xianjing and the troops, and on the spot promoted Zhang Xianjing to King of Liang.

This was the first princely title within the realm of Zhang Zhou, and its significance was extraordinary.

The climax of the ceremony came when the Caliph of the Arabs, Muti, personally performed a ceremonial dance at the victory banquet. Accompanying him was the plump, thoroughly contented last Tsenpo of Tibet, Chi Wangxu Zan.

Thus, the two great empires that had once stood alongside the Great Tang — Tibet and the Arabs — now played music and danced together upon this land that had once nurtured the Han and Tang, and that now had nurtured a mighty empire like Zhang Zhou.

Five years later, in the thirteenth year of Qianyuan, 972 CE — the fifth year of Kaibao under Zhao Kuangyin of the historical Northern Song — atop the summit of Mount Tai.

I, Sage Zhang, have aged another five years. This year I am exactly sixty. My beard and hair have begun to gray, and my frame is no longer as straight as before.

Though my body has no serious ailment, my energy and stamina are no longer what they once were.

Beside him, Lady Cao Sanniang, Yan Nai, is sixty-eight. Her once exquisitely baby-faced cheeks have even begun to show small patches of age spots.

Even Empress Cao Yanxi, six years younger than Zhang Zhao, has become an old woman.

Lady Cao Sanniang especially has been falling ill constantly since the start of the year. Had it not been for her final wish to see Zhang Zhao perform the Feng and Shan sacrifices at Mount Tai, and to see her son Murong Xinzhang, whether she could have held on until now would still be unknown.

But the Crown Prince, the King of Liang Zhang Xianjing, is still young — only twenty-nine this year — and he seems to have grown accustomed to his position as Crown Prince. He looks quite steady, in no hurry to take the throne.

Zhang Zhao stood atop the summit of Mount Tai, looking back on the past. The skyscrapers, computers, and electric lights of later ages had grown very dim in his mind, but what he had done since transmigrating he remembered with perfect clarity.

Forty years! Since he had gone west to Khotan in 932, it had now been forty years.

In these forty years, Zhang Zhao had defeated countless mighty foes.

Saktu Khan of the Karakhanids, Nasr II of Samanid Persia, King Madhavapala of the Hindu Shahi of India, King Krishna II of the Pratihara kingdom of India.

The Khagan of the Ganzhou Uyghurs, Yaoluoge Renyu; the Military Governor of Dingnan, Li Yiyin; the Khagan of the Gaochang Uyghurs, Xieli Pijia.

His dear elder brother, the Khitan ruler Yelu Deguang; the Great King of the Zubu, Duosage; and the wrist-severing Empress Dowager Shulu Ping, who schemed one final counterattack.

Scene after scene flashed before Zhang Zhao's eyes like a slideshow. These forty years had not been easy!

Each of these people could be called a hero of the age. With the slightest misstep, defeat had not been impossible. Yet in the end, Zhang Zhao had dealt with them all.

In forty years, the population of the divine land had recovered from under thirty million to a staggering figure of nearly eighty million.

National grain yield per mu had risen from two hundred twenty jin in Tang times to four hundred fifteen jin.

All manner of new crops from the Americas had greatly enriched the common people's tables.

Now, upon this great empire stretching from the sunrise over the Eastern Sea in the east to the Bay of Baoshan in the west, from the Northern Sea in the north to the Mekong River in the south, produce was abundant, the people lived and worked in peace, and governance was by and large clean and upright.

One imagines that in the history books of this timeline, a Qianyuan Golden Age is assured.

Of course, only Zhang Zhao knew best what he had done. He had reversed this continent's gradual drift toward conservatism since the late Tang, and had even pushed it a great step further. This "Zhou" in Zhang Zhou was truly not chosen in vain.

But Zhang Zhou was not without problems. The greatest problem was that Zhang Zhao had been forced to unleash the monster that was the Six Laws Sect.

Now even he, its founder, did not know what the Six Laws Sect would bring to the people of this age.

Second was that, after contact with the Americas had been established, the influence of American viruses, animals, and plants upon the divine land — whether syphilis would run rampant in the Central Plains in the future, whether there would be large-scale biological invasions — Zhang Zhao did not know whether his descendants would have the ability to solve these problems.

"My lord, Xinchang has returned!" A shout came from the distance, and an old fellow in a silver-white side-slit robe, his hair gray, came running over at a quick pace.

With a thud, Murong Xinzhang prostrated himself in a grand obeisance upon the ground, weeping aloud with tears streaming down. "Your unfilial child has been gone twenty years and has not fulfilled the slightest duty of a son!"

"Xinchang, even you have a head full of white hair now!" Zhang Zhao pulled Murong Xinzhang up, fighting back the tears in his eyes, overcome with emotion.

"You have suffered. My son could have stayed in the Divine Capital as a carefree king."

"Being enfeoffed as king was not my wish; I wished only that the seas be calm. Xinchang regrets only that he could not attend his parents and fulfill his filial duty. He does not feel he has suffered."

Zhang Zhao was taken aback. He had not expected that the famous line of Old Master Qi would cross centuries and come early from the mouth of Murong Xinzhang.

In the distance, his eldest son, the Great King of Chu, Zhang Xiancun, Zhang Huang, who had not returned in sixteen years and had just reached the age of forty, was striding toward them.

Behind Zhang Xiancun, the banners of the vassal states Zhang Zhao had enfeoffed — An, Zheng, Song, Shu, Liao, Qi, Tang, Zhao, and others — were fluttering in the wind.

"Those who know me, those who condemn me — only the Spring and Autumn Annals will judge!" Zhang Zhao raised his head to the sky and sighed. Good or bad, let posterity decide.

In the gentle breeze, Zhang Zhao took Murong Xinzhang by the left hand and Zhang Xiancun by the right, and ordered the Crown Prince, the King of Liang Zhang Xianjing, to lead the way ahead.

"Come, you are all great contributors to the cause of Xia lords ruling barbarian subjects. Let us, father and sons and brothers, ascend this Feng and Shan platform together, to comfort the spirits of our ancestors in heaven!"

(The End)

(End of Chapter)

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