An Da Khan decided not to consider using his wife to pay for grain, but as Great Khan and leader of the Mongol Tatar tribe, he had the obligation to protect the people of his territory. His people were starving to death. If he only relied on warfare to quell A’duo Si’s army, he would lose his prestige as Great Khan. In wolf packs, when the alpha wolf cannot find food for the pack, other strong wolves will continuously challenge the alpha’s position.

To thoroughly resolve this matter, relying solely on military suppression wouldn’t work—he also needed to solve the fundamental problem: grain.

But everyone lacked grain. Where could they get grain?

Bahan Naji, An Da Khan’s grandson, stepped forward to share his grandfather’s worries, saying: “Great Khan, the White Lotus Sect still has surplus grain. The sect leader almost bought out all of Feng City’s grain during winter, with prices rising fivefold at their peak. Even dried meat became expensive. Now my tribe is also starving and lacks the gold and silver to buy grain. It’s all because the White Lotus Sect drove up grain prices, creating today’s situation. The White Lotus Sect should be made to spit out the grain.”

Bahan Naji was eighteen this year, a handsome young man. His father Buyan Taiji was An Da Khan’s third son and leader of the Bayaut tribe, but died young. Bahan Naji was his only son.

An Da Khan pitied this orphaned grandson and brought him to the Khan’s court to raise, cared for by the second Khatun—Yike Khatun. A grandson raised under his own eyes was naturally different from other grandsons. Bahan Naji was An Da Khan’s most beloved grandson.

Similarly, Bahan Naji was the only one among the younger generation who disagreed with sending Zhong Jin Khatun to A’duo Si as payment for grain. He felt Zhong Jin Khatun was grandfather’s woman, and grandfather was happy with her. As grandfather’s favorite grandson, he naturally wanted to protect grandfather’s dignity.

However, Bahan Naji’s generation was too low, and without his father’s support, his words carried little weight. As soon as he opened his mouth, he was rebuffed by his uncle Huang Jitai, who told this nephew to shut up—what did someone so young understand?

Now that Huang Jitai had been sent away by grandfather to guard the city gates, Bahan Naji dared to step forward with his suggestion.

Hearing this, Ding Wu almost wanted to applaud Bahan Naji’s idea. Another stab at the White Lotus Sect—truly killing two birds with one stone.

Ding Wu said: “Bahan Naji speaks correctly. The White Lotus Sect is under the Great Khan’s protection and was given the fertile Bansheng territory to farm. Now it’s time to repay the Great Khan. This is the fastest way to obtain grain and make A’duo Si withdraw.”

An Da Khan felt somewhat guilty. As early as last winter, Bansheng territory, which produced the most grain, had already been squeezed dry by him. Sect Leader Zhao Quan had paid tribute of forty thousand bushels of grain to the Khan’s court, keeping only ten thousand bushels for sustenance. During winter, the White Lotus Sect had people starve to death, with half the believers apostatizing and fleeing to inside the pass. To stabilize the wavering hearts, Zhao Quan had spent all his wealth buying grain to survive winter. Now to reach out to him again, perhaps…

As An Da Khan pondered, the court ministers stepped forward one by one saying: “Your servant seconds the motion!”

“It should be thus! The trouble caused by the White Lotus Sect should be solved by the White Lotus Sect!”

“None of us has as much grain as the White Lotus Sect. If not them, then who?”

Everyone supported Bahan Naji’s proposal—better a dead fellow Daoist than a dead poor Daoist. As long as they didn’t have to take grain from their own granaries, who wouldn’t agree? Cutting flesh from oneself hurt so much—better to cut it from the White Lotus Sect.

An Da Khan thought: The White Lotus Sect has religion but no country. Believers are only loyal to the sect leader alone. They followed Zhao Quan in betraying their homeland and migrating to Bansheng territory to farm self-sufficiently. They abandoned even their homeland at will, so they certainly couldn’t be loyal to me. They’re not my subjects and don’t serve me loyally. What do I care if I squeeze their grain dry and starve them to death?

An Da Khan made his decision, saying: “Summon Zhao Quan.”

Ding Wu was ordered to go to the White Lotus Sect’s main altar. With A’duo Si’s army besieging the city, Zhao Quan had assembled a group of young believers to form a suicide squad, planning to offer them to An Da Khan as shock troops.

Ding Wu looked at these young faces fanatically reciting the White Lotus Sect’s precious scrolls, impassioned and willing to die, feeling both sad and angry. He inwardly cursed Zhao Quan for his shamelessness while maintaining a calm exterior: “Sect Leader, An Da Khan wants to see you.”

Zhao Quan was already prepared, saying: “Does he want me to send troops to break the siege? Don’t worry, I’m ready. These thousand people await orders to go to the Pure Land of Bliss to enjoy happiness.”

Ding Wu said: “There aren’t many able-bodied men left in Bansheng, are there? Spring plowing and sowing will begin soon. What if there aren’t enough hands?”

Zhao Quan was indifferent. “After several battles, there will surely be many war prisoners who become slaves. I’ll ask the Great Khan for two thousand young, strong slaves to work in Bansheng. Slaves work more and eat less—it’s a profitable deal.”

Having survived to this day, Zhao Quan had his own survival wisdom. In his eyes, human lives were no different from goods—all could be used for trade. These believers were deceived by him and even looked forward to dying, going to the Pure Land of Bliss, far from all suffering.

Ding Wu suppressed his urge to smash Zhao Quan’s dog head and praised: “The Sect Leader’s strategies are flawless. Admirable, admirable.”

Zhao Quan asked again: “What exactly does An Da Khan want from me? How many soldiers does he need? I should prepare.”

Ding Wu spoke vaguely: “You’ll know when you go. Anyway, it’s related to A’duo Si’s siege.”

When Zhao Quan arrived at the Khan’s court and entered, he immediately felt something was wrong. Everyone stared at him like looking at a piece of sizzling, dripping roast meat. This feeling of being watched by a pack of wolves gave him goosebumps.

Zhao Quan looked back at Ding Wu, but Ding Wu had already disappeared, going to Third Madam’s place to avoid the storm.

Bahan Naji blocked the doorway, as if afraid this piece of fat meat would grow wings and fly away.

Zhao Quan steeled himself and bowed. An Da Khan gave him a seat and said: “I need twenty thousand bushels of grain—”

Zhao Quan’s buttocks hadn’t even touched the seat before he stood up and fell to his knees with a thud. “Great Khan, the White Lotus Sect’s granaries have long been empty. Moreover, we already lent the Great Khan forty thousand bushels before. The White Lotus Sect has been tightening its belt to get by. We really have no surplus grain to lend!”

Bahan Naji, young and impulsive with hot blood, scolded: “You have no grain? All of Feng City’s grain was bought into your granaries by you. The soaring grain prices were all caused by you alone, yet you dare deceive the Great Khan, saying you have no surplus grain!”

The crowd also chimed in, accusing Zhao Quan of buying up all of Feng City’s grain, leaving others with nothing to eat.

Zhao Quan truly wanted to cry without tears. He didn’t steal or rob—he took out his accumulated savings of many years to buy grain. What wrong had he committed?

Now the grain he bought at high prices was to be requisitioned by An Da Khan again. What about those White Lotus Sect believers?

Joining the sect to avoid calamity had become joining the sect to starve. Where was the sect leader’s authority? Wouldn’t the remaining twenty-five thousand believers all flee?

Zhao Quan had no choice but to kneel and beg for mercy: “This won’t do, Great Khan! If spring plowing is about to begin and requires manpower, and if believers all flee to inside the pass from hunger, who will farm for the Great Khan? Part of the grain in the granaries is meant for seeds. Even if we starve our parents to death, we can’t touch the seed grain. These grains cannot be used.”

An Da Khan said: “I’m not here to discuss with you. I order you to produce twenty thousand bushels of grain today. Bahan Naji will go with you to the granaries to transport grain. As for spring plowing manpower and seed grain, there’s still a month. I’ll have people transport seed grain from inside the pass and send slaves to farm Bansheng territory. It won’t delay planting and harvesting.”

The meaning was: let the believers flee if they want—they’re not my people anyway. The land is mine. If believers don’t farm it, my people will. The White Lotus Sect has nothing to do with it.

In the past when Bansheng was barren wasteland, Feng City’s grain consumption basically relied on border smuggling. Over these twenty-plus years, Bansheng’s grain production could satisfy the needs of both the White Lotus Sect and Feng City, with surplus grain every year. They even had surplus to raise cattle and sheep, feed pigs and chickens. At its peak, there were fifty thousand horses and thirty thousand cattle. Extra grain was exchanged with surrounding herders for meat, and life was good.

With abundant grain came population explosion. One drought reduced grain drastically. With the Great Khan taking the majority, they reached the point of starvation. To satisfy hunger and save grain, the sect kept only over a thousand cattle and horses for farming and transport, plus breeding stock, slaughtering the rest for meat. They thought the crisis would be resolved once spring arrived, never expecting this “late spring cold” that was colder than winter. An Da Khan, disregarding Zhao Quan’s survival, wanted to squeeze the White Lotus Sect dry.

Zhao Quan crawled on his knees to An Da Khan’s feet, hugging his legs and pleading desperately: “This won’t work, Great Khan! Without those twenty thousand bushels of grain, the White Lotus Sect will collapse. When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter. If all believers flee, farming requires skill. Slaves can’t learn it immediately. You can’t just say farm and they farm. Herders and farmers—different trades are like different mountains.”

Bahan Naji, fearing Zhao Quan might lash out desperately and hurt grandfather, grabbed Zhao Quan’s hands and forcibly tore him from An Da Khan’s legs. “Don’t try to frighten people. If herders can’t farm, just leave a few farmers nearby to guide them. It’s all physical labor—anyone can do it. Stop spreading alarmist talk here. The grain was grown from our land and belongs to us originally. For over twenty years, the Great Khan never collected rent from you. Now it’s time to repay the Great Khan.”

Bahan Naji half-dragged, half-pulled Zhao Quan away to transport grain from Bansheng granaries.

Zhao Quan still wouldn’t give up, being dragged on the ground while continuously shouting: “We can’t even drink our fill of gruel! What about the twenty thousand believers? Great Khan! I’m willing to give ten thousand bushels! Don’t take it all away! Leave some for the White Lotus Sect!”

No one heeded Zhao Quan’s pleas. The believers were Zhao Quan’s people—whether they starved to death or fled to inside the pass, what did it matter to us? Our own people were starving.

No one sympathized with Zhao Quan. Bahan Naji, finding Zhao Quan too noisy, brought down his pot-sized fist, knocked him unconscious, shouldered him, stuffed him into a carriage, and left the Khan’s court.

Watching Zhao Quan on Bahan Naji’s shoulder, Ding Wu thought he looked exactly like a pig fattened up for New Year’s slaughter. Usually given food and shelter, the pig fattened up and grunted contentedly. Only when the owner tied it to the slaughterhouse did it suddenly understand, struggling and wailing desperately—but it was too late.

Zhao Quan raised ignorant believers like pigs, ready to sacrifice them at any time. An Da Khan also raised Zhao Quan like a pig, slaughtering him for meat at the crucial moment.

Truly the wheel of karma turns, and retribution is unfailing.

Author’s Note:

Don’t think this melodrama is nearing its end—it’s not! The drama is just beginning. Thanks to the little angels who threw landmines or irrigated nutrient solution during 2020-10-21 03:03:402020-10-21 19:48:29

Thanks to the little angels who threw landmines: Mu Suifeng 1;

Thanks to the little angels who irrigated nutrient solution: Little Cherry Tomato 30 bottles; Wu Shan Ju You Ke 10 bottles; An Ning 3 bottles; Hao Shuai 2 bottles; ja□□ine 1 bottle;

Thank you very much for everyone’s support, I will continue to work hard!