Chapter 794: Nine Thousand Li from Here to Xi'an

By the banks of the Tuomu River.

Taimeng Garrison City.

Unlike the bustle and heat of Xi'an Prefecture, in August Taimeng Garrison saw an unbroken patter of light rain, and even on overcast days without rain, there was none of midsummer's oppressive swelter.

Wang Jinzhong stood on the hillside in his chainmail, watching Taimeng Garrison's model training unit dig trenches.

His frontier service had already expired, and he should have returned to Xining, but Zhou Riqiang offered him promotion to Commander of Taimeng Garrison, and that kept him here.

Truthfully, the post of Garrison Commander had not tempted Wang Jinzhong in the beginning.

After all, with Zhou Riqiang here, even if he became Garrison Commander he would not hold the seal of authority — at best he would be an uncommissioned commander in charge of drilling troops, with very limited power.

By the agreement Liu Chengzong made back then, he could return to the Central Plains and still be promoted; the Marshal's Mansion was now in the thick of contending for the realm, and if he went back now he could still catch the great battles.

Far better than staying in this godforsaken place, enduring hunger and cold with nothing to speak of, and on top of that having to fight rotten skirmishes with nameless nobodies coming from the west.

What's more, back home in Hehuang there was only his old father — he had been away for years, and though letters home had never stopped, in his heart he could never set his worries at ease.

The man who made him change his mind was Zhou Yijing.

Wang Jinzhong came from a household servant background, without any grand ambitions or breadth of vision; back when he followed Wang Cheng'en in surrender and became a steady soldier for Liu Chengzong, what he wanted was that seven-dou monthly grain ration, the tea, oil, and dried meat issued to him, plus the pocket money that let his old man buy a drink.

Later, his willingness to go to the Tianshan Mountains was for nothing more than the prospect of a rank-five adjunct military officer post.

But Zhou Yijing — now there was a presented scholar, a star of letters descended to earth, a man who could point to heaven and sketch the earth, a true man of insight.

If even a man like that had been sent by the Grand Marshal to Taimeng Garrison... then this godforsaken-looking place was surely destined for a great future!

The day after Zhou Yijing arrived at Taimeng Garrison, Wang Jinzhong wrote his old father a letter home, saying he could not attend upon him in person and suggesting he sire another child.

At the same time, he asked Zhou Riqiang to write a letter to Qinghai Governor Yang Dingrui, hoping Governor Yang could help find him a stepmother to look after his old father's daily needs... as for himself, he would stay in the Tianshan Mountains and sell three more years of his life to the Grand Marshal in this godforsaken corner of the world!

The moment he saw Zhou Yijing, he no longer wanted to go back.

But when Zhou Yijing saw them, he was so miserable he wept in his dreams.

From the moment he followed Hong Chengchou in defeat until he reached Taimeng Garrison, Zhou Yijing's mind had been a complete muddle.

First he became a prisoner of war; just as he and the others were contemplating dying for their country and fulfilling their loyalty, he was forced to bid his cellmates farewell and was summoned by Liu Chengzong.

This came with absolutely no mental preparation for him — everyone had assumed the first to be summoned would be Hong Chengchou.

And the meeting was nothing like the surrender offer he had imagined.

It was entirely Liu Chengzong talking to himself — briefly stating that he had expanded the realm, giving a cursory account of defeating the Oirat, and then telling him he was now a Regional Commander, sent to guard the frontier for the Han people.

Zhou Yijing was hustled out by Liu Chengzong's ill-mannered guards, still unable to wrap his head around it, when he saw two cartloads of luggage being brought over and was loaded straight onto a cart and shipped off.

Setting out with the army, every day he swayed dizzily in the carriage, in a daze.

Truth be told, Zhou Yijing was not afraid of exile.

He was no bookworm who had never left home; his ancestral home was Xi'an, he grew up in Quzhou, Zhejiang, passed the third-rank presented scholar examination and was posted as county magistrate to Haifeng in Guangdong — the great chieftain Yan Siqi, who carried out large-scale reclamation of Taiwan, was a Haifeng man, and along that coast, every three households harbored one pirate.

The village of Kantou within the county had, just half a year earlier, been taken by Zheng Zhilong as his lair.

Upon taking office, because the region suffered frequent floods and the common people often followed the great pirates in taking to the sea in boats, Zhou Yijing called upon the gentry and commoners to donate funds to buy fields and ponds; combining this with feng shui geomancy, he built South Gate Lake at the bing position outside the south gate of the county yamen, and built the Wenfeng Pagoda at Xiedao Mountain at the ding position.

The pagoda's stone gate faced the gen position, and together with the other peaks and waters, formed the gen, bing, ding, xun, xin, and dui Six Elegant Commendation Fortune pattern, receiving the Tanlang and Wuqu waters of the county seat's primal fortune, creating a grand and elegant feng shui momentum to revitalize Haifeng's destiny.

Being skilled at controlling floods was impressive, and understanding feng shui geomancy was impressive too.

But what was most impressive was using the theories of feng shui geomancy, in those years of war and chaos, to persuade gentry and commoners to donate money — even the sea pirates had to donate money to him for construction.

Because even the great pirates who sailed overseas had to come home to pay respects to their ancestors, and the sons of sea pirates still had to sit the imperial examinations — they all needed the fortune of the Wenfeng Pagoda.

Thus his official reputation was exceedingly good.

Before that pagoda was even finished, Zhou Yijing was promoted to Investigating Censor of Gansu.

Exile?

To the ends of the earth — where had he not been?

But upon hearing that his destination was north of the Tianshan Mountains, in the territory of the Oirat Tatars, Zhou Yijing was truly afraid... this was a place he genuinely had never been, had never even heard of.

Mainly, the army traveling with him did not look like anything resembling good sons of respectable families — the likes of He Renlong, Gao Jie, Li Chengdong — it was only ample provisions that kept them from eating him along the way.

Panic unsettled, exhausted from travel, unable to eat or sleep in peace, utterly at a loss.

Every day he ate nothing but roasted flour and parched rice, impossible to swallow.

He crossed the Yellow River, traversed the valleys, and saw the fabled sea bandits who were different from the ones in Haifeng.

The sea bandits of the south were bandits of the great ocean.

The sea bandits of the north were bandits of the sea of sand.

They were all the same.

People's clothing and adornments gradually grew unfamiliar, and their speech slowly became unintelligible.

Even the wheels of the carriage rotted from wear.

He made brief stops at one nomadic tribe after another; the civil official among the soldiers was so conspicuous — officers who muttered in Mongolian dialects commanded the herders, and the herders lined up, leading boys half-grown, each in turn prostrating to kiss his official boots, requiring him to place his hand upon each head in blessing.

The escorting officer explained: Grand Commander Xie of the Mongol Brigade had persuaded the central authorities to bring the various tribes of Qinghai into the scope of the imperial examinations; anyone who could write Chinese characters had to take the apprentice student exam, and upon becoming an apprentice student, Brigade Commander Xie would reward them with two sheep and one blade.

See there — he had said it himself, whether they sailed ships or rode horses, in the end the sons of sea bandits still had to take the imperial examinations.

People regarded a presented scholar as no different from a deity walking the mortal world, and wished to borrow the divine power of his name on the golden roster to fulfill their dreams of passing the apprentice student exam.

Expressionlessly he brushed his hand over the crown of every shepherd boy's head, like a precise machine, while his mind drifted beyond the highest heavens.

He supposed this was what Liu Chengzong had meant by expanding the realm?

This was already out at sea — in the south, matters at sea were beyond the court's jurisdiction.

He thought this long journey was nearing its end.

But they said they still had to cross six hundred li of uninhabited gobi, walk four hundred li of waterless desert, and drink from the karez wells built by the taiji — his personal journey to the far west had only just begun.

On the road again.

It was one post station after another in the yellow sands, not even walled towns; the old soldiers stationed there inquired after the latest news of acquaintances and old friends, while yellow Tan sheep with bells hung from their necks shuttled between the post stations, carrying letter after letter home.

In the wilderness, horse bandits driven mad by poverty did not even have horses; they came surging out of the yellow sands in a mighty rush, and upon clearly seeing that their target was actually an army, vanished back into the sky-filling yellow sands at an even greater speed.

When his nose finally grew accustomed to the stench of camels, amid the sound of camel bells, Zhou Yijing saw the outline of Hami City.

This famed city, lost and regained three times, which had haunted the Great Ming's dreams for a hundred years, and the Hami Khan who came to greet them with a hundred-man army riding horses without armor.

This khan, who shared his name with Bebai who had troubled Ningxia during the Wanli era, was utterly mercenary, doing everything in his power to peddle all the city's goods to the army, and even warmly offered his ornately decorated carriage to Zhou Yijing.

He had only one small wish — that when Zhou Yijing reached the Tianshan Mountains, he would persuade Chuhur to stop his annual border raids on Hami.

He did not even ask for success, only that Zhou Yijing be willing to try.

Zhou Yijing declined Bebai Khan's carriage, saying he was merely an exile, that he did not even know who Chuhur was, much less whether he could accomplish such a thing.

Yet he never expected that when Bebai Khan heard he was an exile, his eyes lit up, and he immediately opened the floodgates, pouring out all his grievances to him.

He said that in the old days, when the Great Ming was still here, life was not like this.

On the Golden Road, one caravan of tribute-bearers after another — courteous, civilized, and wealthy — would casually let a few trifles slip through their fingers, more than enough to fill Hami City's belly to bursting.

Nothing like after this Liu Chengzong arrived, campaigning east and west, soldiers and horses running wild everywhere, recruiting surrenders and taking in rebels, sheltering every villain from every region. That Chuhur of the Tianshan Mountains is a notorious villain with a name and a surname — wherever he crosses the border, no household knows a day of peace; he robs everyone he sees.

If Liu Chengzong's degree of wickedness is a ten, then Chuhur is at least a three.

Zhou Yijing felt that this Lord Bebai was no good man — this was pure malicious slander.

Though he did not know Chuhur, he had drunk from the Taiji's wells. A taiji who would laboriously dig those wells across several hundred li of uninhabited desert, bringing benefit to travelers — how bad could he possibly be?

At this, even his resistance toward Liu Chengzong lessened considerably.

That Grand Marshal — aside from his rather low level of education, and the rather excessive distance he exiled surrendered officers — was not exactly steeped in iniquity.

But Bebai Khan truly made him feel at home in Hami, so much so that when Zhou Yijing departed from Hami, he felt in his heart a distinct sorrow, as if leaving his own homeland.

Of course, this sorrow likely had little to do with Bebai Khan. It was simply that Hami City was, in Zhou Yijing's understanding, the most remote and mysterious city he knew. Leaving it, he had no knowledge whatsoever of where his next step would take him.

But it was not entirely unknown.

Setting out once more, they reached the Flaming Mountains.

There was no alchemy furnace of the Grand Supreme Elder Lord here, but Zhou Yijing did see a mirage. He Renlong and his men had long been prepared for battle; the moment they spotted the distant village, they dispatched elite cavalry as forward scouts, ready to launch a fierce assault.

In the end, there was nothing there.

Later on, He Renlong and his men parted ways with them. That young officer nicknamed Li Hezi, always grinning cheekily, said they were heading to Lion-Camel Ridge and would no longer be traveling the same road as the Wenqu Lord.

After that, however, the journey became somewhat lighter and swifter.

The unchanging Gobi and desert gave way to beautiful grasslands and magnificent snow-capped mountains. Across the boundless forest sea galloped the great Ili horses that Zhou Yijing had seen in Liu Chengzong's army.

The Tianshan Mountains.

Beneath the snowy peaks, on a highland where endless forest met grassland, stood an abrupt city enclosed by square earthen walls.

Tianshan Garrison City.

The defending general stationed here was Liu Chengzong's elder brother, Liu Chengzu.

The city was quite populous and bustling, construction in full swing. Within the city were armories and provisions depots large and small. Though people hurried about in armor with firelocks on their shoulders, they showed no panic. There were also many women and children in the city, and they seemed to live and work in peace and contentment.

Zhou Yijing thought this place was rather good. Though the journey was distant and it was a bit cold, there was food, drink, and lively bustle.

It seemed the new frontier that Liu Chengzong had opened up was developing quite well indeed.

In the Tianshan Garrison's government office, filled with military men everywhere, Zhou Yijing met Liu Chengzu.

Unlike Liu Chengzong, whose attire in Han territory bore slight Mongol influences, Liu Chengzu wore a hair-scarf and a battle jacket, a goose-quill saber at his waist and a flintlock pistol tucked there — at a glance, unmistakably a Ming army officer.

Even the entire Tianshan Garrison office seemed, under his bearing, to grow tense in atmosphere, as if a battle were underway.

Zhou Yijing thought to himself, being exiled to report to this office, the commanding officer is a bit too stern — it seems he would have to be cautious and careful in his conduct from now on.

But in truth, once Liu Chengzu learned of his background, he could hardly be bothered with him, because the tense atmosphere in the office was not of his making — the Tianshan Mountains really were at war.

The cause was that Durbod Laijiu, having long resided in Shaanxi, had obtained Liu Chengzong's consent and ordered his son to lead his tribesmen to the sea. The pastures in the Tianshan Mountains vacated as a result were partially allocated to the Tianshan Garrison.

When the nobles of the Oirat Confederation divided the new pastures, a momentary oversight led to problems in the nomadic allocation. Several nobles went to the grasslands they were to graze this year, only to find them already grazed bare, triggering a chain reaction.

Having one's grass eaten by another's livestock is a grave matter — it calls for blades, it calls for blood.

They had started fighting among themselves.

As a stability-preserving force, the Tianshan Army had already dispatched troops to the border to prevent the Kazakh Khan from seizing the opportunity to encroach on the pastures. At the same time, Liu Chengzu needed to grasp the latest intelligence on the conflict, ready to deploy troops to mediate at any moment.

He simply had no time to bother with Zhou Yijing.

"Your luck is poor. Zaisang Lake is at war right now, so there's no way to board a ship there. I'll have someone take you to the Altai. From there, another two thousand li by waterway and you'll reach where you're supposed to go... How many jin can you draw on a bow? Never mind, can you use one or not?"

Before Zhou Yijing could recover from the shock that the Tianshan Mountains still meant another two thousand li north, Liu Chengzu had already stuffed the firelock and powder bag from his waist into Zhou Yijing's hands, and casually assigned two soldiers to him.

"At no time leave their side. If you can ride and shoot, keep your bow on you at all times. If not, learn the firelock on the boat. If a stranger approaches, fire your gun — shoot to kill, no questions asked."

"The waters rise in spring; traveling by boat, you'll inevitably pass through dangerous rapids. When you put ashore, don't go into the woods. Beware of lynxes, flying bears, and snow-mountain leopards — don't get carried off. Also beware of wild horses and wild asses; a kick from them hurts terribly."

"When you reach your destination, listen more and watch more. In an unfamiliar place, don't go hunting. Trust no one but the Tianshan Army. The Banner troops are forest subjects; if you're alone in the wilds, they'll kill you just the same. The convicts are vicious sorts; inside the fort, they'll do you harm all the same."

"And those cavalrymen under Chuhur carrying fire-sticks — keep your distance from them. Those savages stab anyone they see."

Having finished his instructions, Liu Chengzu received military intelligence, then left the office to muster his troops and led his cavalry column westward, paying no further heed to the dumbstruck Zhou Yijing.

It was somewhat terrifying.

Fortunately, the two soldiers were left behind, and they escorted Zhou Yijing all the way to the Altai.

Liu Chengzu had only said it was over two thousand li by waterway from the Altai to Taimeng Garrison, but he had not told Zhou Yijing that from Tianshan Garrison City to the Altai was still over a thousand li.

Zhou Yijing was jolted on horseback for half a month; he was nearly driven mad by this endless road to the far west.

When he finally boarded a military boat on the Tom River, compared to when he had set out from Shaanxi, Zhou Yijing was, inside and out, a completely changed man — it would be no exaggeration.

The two-thousand-li voyage was, however, without disaster or difficulty. When he set foot on solid ground again, he had arrived at a vast, desolate wilderness he had never even heard of.

The setting sun hung above the broad great river, scattering gold upon the water's surface and the boundless coniferous forest. Dense woods encircled and guarded a small hill, upon which stood a fortress built of rough-hewn logs.

A dirt road through the dense forest wound from the fortress down through the trees, leading straight to his feet.

In that moment, Zhou Yijing did not know who he was, did not know where he was, and even less did he know what he was supposed to do.

He only knew that by the bank of the great river stood a massive boulder, its face cut flat, its carved inscription inked with cinnabar, bearing fourteen characters.

Grand Marshal's Headquarters, Taimeng Garrison.

The journey to Xi'an was nine thousand li.

?? Good evening!