Braving hardships and clearing the wilderness to open up the mountains and forests. — Zuo Zhuan

Chapter 652: The Six Jia Divine Soldiers, a Thousand-Year Sigh

The Wu Dynasty.

The first year of the Jingping era, which was also the early winter of the fourteenth year of the Jinghan era. Overcast, rainy weather hung over the city of Bianliang.

The city gates were sealed on all sides; the whole city’s atmosphere had grown heavy and oppressive.

To the north, the Jurchen military encampment stretched unbroken beneath the city walls, the siege now dragging into nearly its second half-month.

In the defense of the city walls, the Wu Dynasty’s defenders had endured the first wave of assault at tremendous cost, after which the Jurchen main force had grown notably quieter. Led by Jurchen war-god Wanyan Zongwang and Grand Marshal Nian Han, the Jurchen forces did little more than issue daily challenges outside the walls, without launching a full assault. Everyone knew that the Jurchen army, already well-practiced in siegecraft, was busily constructing all manner of siege engines behind the scenes; with every passing second, Bianliang’s defenses grew ever more precarious.

Before the first year of Jingping—that is, in the winter of the thirteenth year of Jinghan—the Jurchens had already launched their first southern campaign, when Zongwang’s army had besieged Bianliang for months, coming close to breaching the city on several occasions. In the end, Bianliang had paid an enormous price to finally repel them. This time, most within the city no longer held much confidence that the walls could hold. Though supplies within the city had not yet run truly scarce, the vitality of commerce and daily life had sunk to its lowest ebb; the notorious names of several Jurchen generals were, by this point, enough to silence a crying child in the night.

On this particular day, the eighteenth of the eleventh month, when the rain had briefly let up, the sky remained dark and overcast; the moisture from the rain still lingered in the city’s air, and the cold cut straight to the bone. Most of the city’s shops had already closed their doors; people huddled in their homes, waiting for time to pass mercilessly onward, hoping for the Jurchens’ withdrawal, for the arrival of a relief army—though in truth, a relief army had already come and gone. Now, from the plains north of the city all the way to the Yellow River, the land was littered with the traces of a scattered, defeated army and the corpses of the slaughtered.

Yet from somewhere came an unlikely burst of lively energy. At midday, the sound of suona horns rang out through the streets, drums beating, as a procession made its way through Bianliang toward Xuanhua Gate. When the city’s residents came out to look, they saw at the front of the procession nine great golden-eyed dragons of imposing bearing, and around them, eighteen fierce, magnificent bronze-headed lions—and behind them all, an army was coming!

Sword dancers, staff-bearers, tumblers, fire-breathers, one after another they came—and in this moment, with Bianliang under siege, this procession radiated a confidence and vitality all its own. On a high platform borne aloft by attendants at the rear, a Heavenly Master sat enthroned beneath a great canopy, yellow silk streaming in the wind, glazed ornaments adorning the platform; the Heavenly Master sat in solemn stillness, hands forming mystic seals, radiating a silent, imposing authority.

People in the streets began asking around, and only then learned—the Heavenly Master Guo Jing had arrived!

Heavenly Master Guo Jing—who was he?

He was, it was said, the fifty-ninth generation successor of Zhang Daoling of Longhu Mountain. Having received the true transmission of the Orthodox Unity Way, and having further blended the finest teachings of both Buddhism and Daoism, his magical arts and supernatural powers approached those of an earthbound immortal. Now, with the Jurchens come south and the common people suffering, a hero had naturally emerged to save the multitudes. The procession following Guo Jing consisted of the “Six Jia Divine Soldiers”—seven thousand seven hundred and seventy-seven men, carefully selected and trained since the Heavenly Master’s arrival in the capital.

The emergence of the “Six Jia Divine Soldiers” could withstand even a million-strong Jurchen army—and as for Wanyan Zongwang and Wanyan Zonghan, though they were originally malevolent stars fallen from heaven, under the Heavenly Master’s “Vaisravana Heavenly King Dharma,” they too would surely be broken and captured alive!

“Bianliang is saved…”

The crowd followed along in a bustling throng; some stepped forward to kneel and prostrate themselves by the roadside, others wept and cried out: “Heavenly Master Guo, save the myriad people…”

The crowd around them grew ever larger, and more and more people knelt in worship. In this manner, the procession of the Six Jia Divine Soldiers passed through half of Bianliang, arriving near Xuanhua Gate, where the martial-law-sealed city wall stood. The common people finally stopped there, standing within the procession, watching, hoping…

Before long, Guo Jing ascended the city wall and began casting his spells. Xuanhua Gate opened, and the Six Jia Divine Soldiers assembled before the gate, arraying themselves in formation, and began their incantations!

Within the palace, the newly enthroned Jingping Emperor gazed toward the north, gripping the jade railing with both hands. “Now, it all depends on Heavenly Master Guo breaking the enemy…”

Outside Xuanhua Gate, the Jurchen general who had been issuing his daily challenge was startled to see a cavalry force forming up in ranks on the field outside—and was momentarily stunned himself. Within the Jurchen camp, Zonghan, Zongwang, and the others rushed out in a hurry, the north wind whipping at the fur cloaks upon their shoulders; when they climbed to a vantage point and saw the scene unfolding at the city gate, their expressions twitched involuntarily.

Beneath the overcast sky, Bianliang’s gates stood wide open, and an army filled the space before them, murmuring incantations, before suddenly shifting into some strange pose with a shout of “Hei!”

“This… what is this…”

“A trick?”

“An empty-city stratagem?”

Even men as battle-hardened and worldly as Zonghan and Zongwang, who had campaigned across the realm, had never encountered a scene quite like this one, and so a moment of awkward silence fell.

“Well then… let’s have the vanguard test them out.”

Moments later, the Jurchen cavalry charged toward the ranks of the Six Jia Divine Soldiers. Seeing the formation before them, even the Jurchen riders felt their hearts uneasy—but with orders given, there was nothing to be done. As the distance closed, their unease climbed toward its peak; yet no rain of arrows fell from the sky, and the city gates did not close, and the two sides closed the distance with startling speed! The Jurchen rider in the front rank let out a hysterical war cry, and as the charging line collided, he roared and swung his long blade down upon the fearless soldier standing before him—

…

“…Ah, they always say that in a chaotic age, demons and devils run wild—and that Heart Demon, Ning Yi, was truly the great demon who brought ruin to the Wu Dynasty. Who knows what shattered heavenly vessel he fell from—the whole court of officials, having crossed paths with him, has truly suffered eight generations’ worth of misfortune…”

The north wind howled, sweeping across the unbroken mountain ridges near Jiangning, where a run-down temple stood among the hills. It lay some distance from the post station, but travelers of every sort still came here from time to time to rest their feet. Wherever people gathered, talk naturally followed, and now, a group of travelers from all corners of the realm were speaking somewhat recklessly of things better left unsaid.

The one speaking was a martial artist with a blade slung across his back—men of the martial world, roaming freely between north and south, were least bound by law, and so what came from their mouths was often exactly what others found most interesting. At this moment, he was stoking the campfire, giving voice to these musings.

“At the end of last year, the Jurchens had only just withdrawn, and things in the capital were already in a complete mess. Then, in the sixth month, the Heart Demon murdered the emperor right there in open court. Right in front of all the assembled ministers—killed the late emperor. Word in the capital was, what could this be but a commoner’s righteous fury, blood spilled within five paces! And now, here we are, and the Jurchens have come to besiege the city again—who knows if Bianliang can even hold…”

Jiangning lay far from Bianliang, and none of those gathered in this run-down temple held any official rank—aside from the three men sitting in a corner, one of whom looked like he might be a young lord of some noble household, the rest were mostly wandering figures of the martial world, low-class traveling merchants and drifters. Someone spoke up in a low voice: “So… how did he manage that, up there in the Golden Chamber?”

“Well.” The martial artist spread his hands. “As for what happened at the time, I did hear some things from others. They say that Heart Demon has sorcery—on the day of the rebellion, two enormous things rose into the sky, flying his reinforcements directly into the palace, and he’d also planted men inside the palace beforehand. Once they made their move, cavalry poured into the city outside, and the sound of fighting broke out everywhere within—several government offices were smashed to pieces by the Heart Demon’s men, and before long, they’d even thrown open the palace gates and charged in. As for what happened inside the palace itself, well…”

He lowered his voice further. “Inside the palace, they say, that Heart Demon wounded the late emperor and took him hostage, and no one else dared come near. And then—it was that Cai Jing, secretly, who wanted to kill the late emperor…”

At these words, the whole group fell into stunned silence; some blinked and edged slightly away from the martial artist, as though merely hearing such talk might invite death. The young lord crouching nearby the temple wall also blinked, then murmured something to the man beside him; that man stepped over and tossed another log onto the fire. “How dare you spread such nonsense. Whatever people say of Grand Preceptor Cai as a treacherous official, would he truly dare kill the emperor? Don’t you know that spreading such rumors here could get you killed?”

The martial artist blinked in momentary surprise, then his face took on a haughty expression. “Heh, I, Tang Ddonglai, have walked the martial world with my head tied to my belt—when have I ever feared death? But when it comes to speaking the truth, I, Tang Donglai, say what I mean. What happened in the capital happened exactly as I’ve told it—perhaps I won’t speak so loosely another day, but having already opened my mouth today, I dare stand by it as fact!”

“Fine then—explain how Grand Preceptor Cai would dare kill the emperor! What a joke, to speak of such a monstrous act of treason as though it were child’s play.”

“Heh, who’s speaking of child’s play.” Seeing the other man’s irritation, Tang Donglai’s own temper flared; he glanced briefly at the young lord nearby, but continued regardless. “Let me ask you this—if that Heart Demon had killed the late emperor on the spot, with palace guards standing right there, wouldn’t he have been cut down by a hundred blades instantly?”

The other man nodded. “But even if he didn’t act right away, why would it be Grand Preceptor Cai who committed such a monstrous act!”

“A fine question!” Tang Donglai clapped his hands and stood up. “Ask yourselves—if you all stood there in that court, with the emperor held hostage, would you dare to leave, would you dare to strike? The rebel troops were right outside, with sorcery flying about, possibly about to break in at any moment. Wait like that, and wouldn’t the entire assembled court be slaughtered to the last man by the rebel’s forces!”

No one spoke; all averted their eyes. Tang Donglai looked rather satisfied. “That Heart Demon rebel was counting on exactly that—so long as he held the emperor hostage, the assembled court would be caught between striking and not striking, unable to do either.”

The man who had spoken earlier grew stern. “So you’re saying it was Grand Preceptor Cai who killed the late emperor? Who are you, to speak on behalf of a rebel like this?!”

“Hmph, I never said that.” Having spoken somewhat rashly in the heat of the moment, Tang Donglai, martial artist though he was, still understood the weight of such words even outside proper society. “But word in the capital has it that not long after the late emperor was taken hostage by that rebel, it was Grand Preceptor Cai who instructed the Imperial Guard to shout that His Majesty had been assassinated and had died, and to loose arrows into the golden hall—so that rebel then killed the late emperor with a single blade, before using Prince Tong as a shield to charge out. That Prince Tong, mind you, had already been badly wounded, and the rebel then cut off both his hands—he died with his eyes still open, unable to rest! Anyone with sharp eyes and ears in and around the capital came to know all this eventually, not to mention that the rebel scattered so much material through the capital besides…”

Having said this, and seeing no response from the other man, he gave a light snort.

“Hmph, in truth, those corrupt officials in the capital—how many decent men are among them, do you all know? The Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun—those were actually bought back, not recovered by force at all…”

Men of the martial world, living by the blade, always cared a great deal about saving face; this man’s travel bag was worn and his clothes shabby, but having won this argument and having so much insider knowledge of the capital to share, he could not resist letting slip an even bigger piece of news. But no sooner had the words left his mouth than footsteps could faintly be heard approaching outside the temple, growing denser and more numerous. Tang Donglai’s expression changed—unsure whether he had run into some agent from the office specifically tasked with tracking down this rumor of regicide, he peered outside and saw the area around the run-down temple nearly surrounded; some had already entered, looking around.

The young lord stood up, waving a hand slightly toward Tang Donglai. “It’s fine, it’s fine, everyone continue resting—I’ll be on my way first.” Then, turning to those entering, he said, “It’s fine, it’s fine, just some traveling merchants passing through—don’t disturb their peace.”

This large group was mostly dressed in the livery of a princely household. The young lord and his attendants walked out of the run-down temple and made their way to a spacious, elegant carriage waiting on the road not far off, where a woman of noble bearing and her maidservant were already waiting.

This young lord was none other than Zhou Junwu, young lord of the Prince of Kang’s household; the woman in the carriage was his elder sister, Zhou Pei.

On the ninth day of the sixth month of this year, the Heart Demon Ning Yi—who had once been their tutor—had murdered the emperor in Bianliang and fled. Many of the details surrounding this remained unclear even to those within the princely household. But that after killing the emperor, the Heart Demon had scattered the incriminating black files of every great clan throughout the capital—that much, they did know. This wasn’t as significant, of course, as the regicide itself, but it had left behind countless hidden troubles. This Tang Donglai had evidently learned the details of Tong Guan’s and Cai Jing’s ransoming of the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun through exactly this channel.

Upon hearing this news, Zhou Junwu had felt a great sense of shock, though his day-to-day life remained largely unaffected. What interested him most, in truth, were the two great balloons that had risen into the sky. His sister Zhou Pei, however, had grown noticeably despondent over this half-year period; managing the vast business affairs of Princess Chengguo’s household kept her busy, and amid this busyness, her mood had clearly grown suppressed as well. Seeing Junwu climb into the carriage, and once the procession had set off, she finally spoke. “You need to grow steadier. You shouldn’t keep wandering off to places like that.”

“Heh.” Junwu smiled and lowered his voice. “Sister, back there, I ran into someone who might have been one of Teacher’s men… though of course, he might not have been either.” He thought for a moment, then added, “Hm, wasn’t careful enough—probably wasn’t him.”

Zhou Pei only frowned, watching him coldly.

“Sister, do you know—today, hearing what that man said, I finally understood that Teacher meant to wipe out the entire assembled court that day. What a pity—the old ginger is always spicier, and Grand Preceptor Cai still managed to break the deadlock even in that situation…”

“You shouldn’t call him teacher anymore.”

“Fine, Ning Yi… no, the Heart Demon. Sister, do you know what actually happened? The Heart Demon, at court, first took the late emperor hostage, planning to have his own men flood in and kill the whole assembled court, and then…”

Junwu excitedly recounted everything he had heard in the temple. Zhou Pei listened quietly, without interrupting, only watching her brother—who seemed almost ready to cheer for the rebel—her hands gradually clenching into fists, tears slowly welling at the corners of her eyes. Junwu had never seen his sister like this before; by the end of his account, his gaze had grown puzzled, his voice trailing off lower and lower. He heard Zhou Pei say: “Do you know…”

She turned her head to look at her brother, tears streaming down her face, her voice choked. “Do you know…”

“Bianliang has fallen. The Jurchens have entered the city…”

The sounds around them seemed to fall entirely silent for an instant. He blinked, stunned, and gradually fell silent as well, turning his head to look off to one side.

The north wind howled across the fields outside the carriage; the carriage jolted along; the winter sun was setting early. No one knew whether this was, in truth, the sunset of the Wu Dynasty itself…

In the first year of the Jingping era, in the ninth month, the Jurchens once again raised their armies against the Wu Dynasty, advancing south along the Taiyuan line, driving deep without pause. In the tenth month, the Jurchen forces broke through the Wu Dynasty’s Yellow River defenses and arrived before the walls of Bianliang.

At that time, there was a great charlatan named Guo Jing, who claimed to understand the “Six Jia Method” and to be skilled at commanding spirits and ghosts. He deceived the sagely ears of the throne, and on the eighteenth day of the eleventh month, he led the “Six Jia Divine Soldiers”—seven thousand seven hundred seventy-seven men selected from within the city—out through Xuanhua Gate to do battle with the Jurchen army. After an initial moment of astonishment, the Jurchen soldiers unleashed a slaughter upon them, breaking straight through the gate. On this day, the outer city of Bianliang fell completely.

An indescribable humiliation had begun.

And a chaotic age, too, began from this day forward…

Volume 8: The Old Cangchuan