Chapter 580: Snow Falls on Foreign Lands

Chapter 580: Snow Falls on the Territory

The vastness of the territory was undeniable.

Especially after the "Lüwu Opening the Frontier," as the Tibetan civilian areas were swallowed by the territory, the area occupied by the U-Tsang Military and Civilian Region was even larger than many imperial provincial capitals.

Entering the highland in October brought a heavy chill.

The gloomy lead-gray clouds overshadowed the golden roof of the Nyemo Golden Temple, while the snow-laden cold wind stirred the sky-obscuring colorful banners, and the altar sacrifices were crowded with praying monks.

This was the last branch monastery before the Sacred Mount Sakyamuni, and also the final barrier guarding the Sacred Monastery of Sakyamuni, holding a prestigious position within the entire U-Tsang Military and Civilian Region.

On the thirteenth day of the twelfth year of the Jiaqing Emperor, it was the "Reincarnation of the Buddha's Birthday" of the current Nyemo Dalai Lama.

In former years, the entire city would host grand parades and celebrations, with devout believers gathering from all directions, carrying heavy palanquins and statues of the Buddha on their shoulders, kneeling a hundred miles to perform the sacred "Shaving the Head Ritual" before the monastery.

They would select the purest souls and devout faith, enter the Buddha's realm, ascend the spiritual mountain, and send gratitude to the Buddhas for birthing the Nyemo Dalai Lama, who had come to save them from sin and illuminate their confusion.

Yet now, the city was devoid of any festive atmosphere, shrouded in an oppressive silence.

Because at this moment, a heated argument was erupting within the main hall of the Nyemo Golden Temple.

On both sides of the long table, the seated guests were all clad in red robes.

One side was the Buddha's followers, the other the Emperor's officials.

"Now that the inspection group has entered the Tibetan Buddhist territory for over a month, they have found no evidence regarding the Liaodong Incident, proving it has nothing to do with the Sacred Monastery of Sakyamuni!"

"How could you know there are no clues before even entering the Sacred Monastery's territory?"

"The Sacred Monastery of Sakyamuni is held in high esteem as one of the three great sacred mountains of Tibet; how could outsiders be allowed to enter at will?"

"What do you mean, Your Holiness?"

"This matter should be resolved at the Nyemo Golden Temple!"

"Putting aside your qualifications to determine this case, I ask you: who are these outsiders? Is Tibet not the Emperor's territory? Are you not his subject?"

"The Dalai Lama has no such intention. If Minister Sun wishes to pin labels on people, the ten thousand believers under the Golden Temple will not agree!"

"To prevent us from entering the Sacred Monastery's territory, the only solution is for the Sacred Monastery's head, Lin Jiala Po, to descend and accompany us back to the capital to report the facts to the current Emperor. There is no other way!"

"Minister Sun, your expedition has recklessly destroyed temples and harmed Buddhist believers, causing widespread unrest among the locals. Now you dare to defile the Sacred Ancestors of Sakyamuni; do you not fear inciting popular outrage?"

"Popular outrage? Who has any grievance? Let them stand up and tell me personally!"

"You—"

"Today is your reincarnation birthday; I grant you one day. If tomorrow you cannot produce a conclusion, I will have your Golden Temple demolished!"

For the clamor within the temple, Zhang Ziyuan had long lost interest.

During the ten days the inspection group stayed at the Nyemo Golden Temple, such scenes had erupted countless times, appearing on the brink of conflict but ultimately ending in stalemate.

To Zhang Ziyuan, if not for Liu Jingkun's interference, he would have already led his men up the Sacred Mountain of Sakyamuni, dragged Lin Jiala Po from his bed, and escorted him to the capital.

How could he waste time here?

The two families, Da Zhao and White Horse, were merely paper tigers; their cooperation with the inspection group was merely to pressure the Sacred Monastery.

Now that the Sacred Monastery was under pressure and chose to compromise, sacrificing to feed the eagles, exchanging blood for butter, these were all predictable.

It was not worth Liu Jingkun's caution.

If these people truly understood the saying "the teeth are harmed when the lips are injured," they would not have allowed themselves to enter the territory in the first place.

The "Century Buddhist Riots" that erupted historically, where dozens of sects slaughtered each other on this highland, was enough to prove that the Buddhist succession in Tibet was hidden with brutal force and cunning beneath compassion, and a greed that penetrated their marrow.

"They should have temporarily avoided stirring up 'the division of the realm,' letting those barbaric sects teach these Tibetan Buddhists what true barbarism and violence were."

Zhang Ziyuan's dissatisfaction with the current situation was palpable, yet he could only sigh in helplessness.

At the time of leaving the capital, he was ordered to follow Liu Jingkun's instructions.

Thus, Liu Jingkun's decision to remain at the Nyemo Golden Temple and negotiate with the Sacred Monastery, observing the situation's changes, forced Zhang Ziyuan to obey.

Annoyed by the clamor, Zhang Ziyuan reluctantly left the temple.

Outside the nearly thousand-acre Nyemo Golden Temple, a city centered around the temple was built.

Here, unlike the imperial cities with towering skyscrapers and sloping eaves, almost all were uniform stone and wooden fortresses, with a primitive and rugged style, using stone walls and wooden columns.

The beams and columns were carved with Dharma wheels and deer, prayer flags fluttered on the roofs, and before the doors stood prayer wheels, with white-washed walls painted with deities and lotus seats.

If the imperial realm's Confucian order had just begun its sinicization process, here it had already become a mature Buddhist city.

But the greatest difference was not in the control of the people's beliefs.

What truly startled Zhang Ziyuan was the primitive lifestyle.

The two waves of technological laws that had swept the imperial realm left no trace here.

Ancient mountains had blocked their departure and the imperial reforms.

For a thousand years since the Chongzhen era to the Jiaqing era, there had been no change.

The people's belief in Buddhism was their sole source of life.

"The earthly people used their shoulders to bear the Buddha's realm, but the Buddha's light would not illuminate the dark places beneath."

Zhang Ziyuan suddenly recalled a line from a renowned scholar in the New Confucian Academy who specialized in Tibet: "The Buddha's light illuminates the world, but not the dark corners of men's hearts."

Though he knew this eccentric young man was a nemesis he dared not provoke, the locals gazed at him with extreme disdain.

Especially the elderly monks, who struggled to stand yet clenched their teeth, as if eager to tear him apart.

These deviants had committed sins against the Buddha since entering Tibet, and their actions had spread across the entire Buddhist realm.

On the day they entered the city, even the revered Nyemo Dalai Lama was forced to leave the Golden Temple to personally welcome them.

This was the greatest humiliation for the people of Nyemo.

Under these malicious gazes, Zhang Ziyuan deliberately slowed his steps.

He calculated how many academies he would need to establish after annexing Tibet, and how many years it would take to eradicate the poisons in their minds.

Or perhaps he would bring over a dozen families to enforce Confucian education through force?

Such methods would be more efficient, though the risk of cognitive dissonance causing mental breakdown and producing many madmen might arise.

While contemplating, Zhang Ziyuan slowly walked out of the small Nyemo City, ascending a hill.

Looking far, the expansive hills and mountains, where native sheep—almost extinct in the imperial realm—roamed in groups, their lowered heads grazing the withered grass.

The shepherd girls were emaciated, wearing thick felt garments, whipping their whips, singing songs.

"Snowfields are the Buddha's scriptures, three sacred mountains shine bright. Melted snowwater becomes nectar, the wind carries the fragrance of butter. I understand the scriptures' stories, found my life's direction, following the elders' footprints to the land of the Buddha."

"The bowl is never empty of tea, the mouth never stops singing, the belly is round, never thin. Life is prosperous, after death, my soul will ascend to heaven with the Sacred Mountain."

The girl raised her whip, cracking it with a sharp sound.

In the scattered sheep, small figures emerged, even smaller than her.

"After death, my soul will ascend to heaven with the Sacred Mountain."

They sang in unison with the girl, their filthy faces glowing with joy.

Zhang Siyuan stood on the hillside, listening in a daze, a bitter taste lingering in his heart.

These herding children were all the Buddha slaves raised within the Golden Temple's precincts.

Unlike the criminal civilians of the Longwu era, these Buddha slaves were not foreigners but true imperial subjects.

As early as the Hongwu period, the Great Ming Empire had established two major garrisons, Bakang and Wuzang, incorporating the frontier lands into its territory.

When the Yongle Emperor initiated the sequence, the Three Teachings and Nine Streams' twelve sects flourished rapidly.

The frontier lands, as a crucial Buddhist stronghold, drew countless believers, spawning numerous sects through the ages.

Yet mortal incense offerings were limited, sealing the number of Buddhas as finite.

Before the Longwu Emperor ascended the throne, a century-long Buddhist upheaval erupted here.

In that chaos, the entire plateau ran red with blood, many sects perished, and the Buddhas they worshipped were branded as demons.

Monks who entered the sect could repent and reform, but ordinary believers had to atone for their faith, becoming spoils of war, reduced to Buddha slaves.

Sin was etched into their genes, passed down through bloodlines.

The descendants of Buddha slaves remained so forever, until their lineage died out completely, only then did their sins vanish with their deaths.

Even if one day someone among them gained great fortune and entered the sect, their Buddha slave memories would be erased, and under the abbot's consecration, they would embrace a new life, believing themselves reincarnated disciples of a Buddha from the Spirit Mountain, forgetting their past.

This was the so-called "Buddha slave," the current state of over ninety percent of the frontier's populace.

As the herdsboys' songs drifted, a fierce cold wind swept Zhang Siyuan's robes, snowflakes thickening in the sky, the rising white mist nearly pressing down on the hilltop.

"Sir, it's the cabinet's dispatch."

A middle-aged official from the patrol group searched long outside the city before finally finding him.

"Read it."

"Reverent Edict, the twelfth year of Jiaqi, in the ninth month: Longhu Mountain expelled court officials and Confucian sect members in Jiangxi's Xiang Province, Guangxin Prefecture, arbitrarily converting the county office into a Daoist temple, installing Daoist priests to replace administrative duties. Multiple regions followed this heretical act, fearing secession.

In mid-month, 'the old two capitals and thirteen provinces' again detected signs of the 'Honghu' rebel forces. From captured Honghu members, it was learned most were from the criminal civilian zones being reformed into prefectures and counties, returning to the empire without further missions. Investigation revealed the rebel mobilization originated from a place called 'Dachu,' a Huangliang dream realm, with unclear objectives and unidentified organizers.

On the twenty-seventh day of September, multiple attacks erupted in Guangxin Prefecture, Longhu Mountain's affiliated Daoist temples nearly all destroyed. Many Daoist sect members were slaughtered, including several elite Longhu Nine Sections and high-ranking officials. According to insider reports, the attackers included Buddhist sect Yuan Mingfei, Daoist sect Chen Qisheng, Martial sect Shen Li, Yin-Yang sect You Siji, and former Wo-zones Jingde Yu, Wei Ji, and Qinhu City's Jinyiwei commander, Xie Bi'an, Fan Wujiu.

The middle-aged official suddenly emphasized: 'The leader is Li Jun, the former Jinyiwei centurion of Qinhu City in the Wo-zone, now a Tianzhu member, the lone Martial sect's Four-Xin Master.'"

"Li Jun."

Zhang Siy bent down, plucked a blade of grass, and bit it in his mouth like a reckless madman.

"In the events of Liaodong's Lu clan, Jinling's Liu clan, and the Mo sect's partial court, his shadow was present."

The middle-aged official reminded: "According to the cabinet's assessment, this man is very dangerous, Sir must be cautious."

"A very dangerous... sect four?"

Seeing the official's grave expression, Zhang Siyuan smiled ambiguously, "The lone Martial sect indeed deserves attention. Continue."

"On the third day of October, Li Jun slew Elder Zhao of Longhu Mountain in Jiangxi's Xiang Province, Guangxin Prefecture, the Three-Yellow Huangliang Immortal, Ge Jing. On the same day..."

"Wait, is the cabinet's dispatch getting worse, or did you miss something?"

Zhang Siyuan frowned, "Ge Jing is no ordinary figure—how can his life and death be dismissed in a single sentence?"

"According to your past habits, this subordinate omitted some redundant information that doesn't affect the event's content."

"Ge Jing's matter can be elaborated in detail."

Zhang Siyuan asked, "How did he fall into the encirclement?"

"This subordinate's report is accurate—Ge Jing was not killed in encirclement but slain by Li Jun alone."

Zhang Siyuan fell silent, then suddenly asked, "You said, what sect is he?"

"Four."

"How many martial gates has he refined?"

The official silently raised his hand, gesturing four fingers.

"So, he's as formidable as Su Cai when he ascended three ranks?"

Zhang Siyuan squinted, spat out the grass stem: "Is this still a sect four?"

"He is the lone Martial sect."

"Truly, monsters emerge in chaotic times."

Zhang Siyuan's expression was complex, gazing upward and sighing deeply.

As if suddenly remembering something, he looked down at his long-time retainer, frowning: "What exactly did you omit?"

"Ge Jing perished on the spot, his Dao extinguished. No escape."

Zhang Siyuan's face stiffened, waving his hand irritably: "Continue, continue."

"On the sixth day of October, Li Jun was besieged by Longhu and Zezhao in Nanchang City."

"The Longhu Mountain's Celestial Master sealed the Daoist Zhang Xilian, Zhang Xihong, and Zhang Xidao, who died in battle. The Great Celestial Master Zhang Siyuan, wielding the celestial constellation 'Breaking Army,' appeared. The Celestial Master's XuanTai Hall's Zhang Qingyu suddenly went mad, raised his sword to meet the thunder tribulation, and turned to ash.

After the thunder passed, half of Nanchang City lay in ruins. Longhu's army collapsed like a mountain, Li Jun wounded, his condition uncertain, challenging Elder Yikui of Zezhao, who fled.

On the same day, Longhu's abandoned disciple Chen Qisheng awakened from a suspected Wudang disciple Zhao Yanlong's cave, leading four-grade close-combat auxiliary ink-armored troops straight to Longhu Mountain's gate. The Great Celestial Master Zhang Siyuan perished, his Dao extinguished. The White Jade Capital's Xianban seat was taken over by Zhang Qingli, the Celestial Master's FaZuan Bureau's inspector.

On the eighth day, Zezhao demanded Longhu Mountain provide a reasonable explanation for the 'Thunder Strike on Nanchang,' or it would be seen as malicious provocation and retaliate. Longhu's Great Celestial Master Zhang Chongcheng personally visited Zezhao to apologize, but was refused at the door.

On the ninth day, Zezhao's abbot Ge Fengbao's Daoist artifact 'Lingbao Miaoshu' appeared atop Longhu Mountain, illuminating day and night.

Yesterday, Zezhao's abbot Ge Fengbao returned to Zezhao, immediately announcing retreat for 'HeDao' within the sect. On the same day, Mao Mountain's abbot declared he would soon go to Longhu Mountain in Guangxin Prefecture to address the grudge between the two sects, demanding Longhu's apology.

The cabinet analyzed that the Daoist sect had fallen into internal strife, unable to interfere in frontier affairs for some time. The patrol group may accelerate progress as appropriate.

Zhang Siyuan stroked his chin and asked, "Has Lord Liu Jinxun seen this dispatch?"

"Yes."

"Any instructions?"

The middle-aged official shook his head, "The Sir only said two words: Not urgent."

"Not urgent."

Zhang Siyuan fell into contemplation, then after a moment asked, "Any other contents?"

"The last item."

The middle-aged official's expression turned grave, speaking solemnly: "Today, Li Jun and others have entered the frontier lands."

"Why has he come to the frontier? Is it merely for revenge?"

Zhang Siyuan furrowed his brow, his gaze falling on the gradually receding cattle and sheep below.

"Let him come—I've long wanted to meet this renowned Martial sect's flame."

Below the hill, companions had driven the cattle and sheep far away, the girl alone lagged behind, alone, clutching her whip, finally daring to show sorrow.

"This year's Gesang flowers bloom, this year's Qingke sprouts. This year, which family will offer fresh lives to the lamas on the mountain? Zhuoma, Dawa, where have you and your bride gone, has the long snows and plateau blocked your eyes?

Hurry, run, go see the scenery beyond the snowlands. There, no one demands your head, nor will anyone snatch your bride."

Upon the distant shore, where echoes of solace dwell, a young scribe's sorrow intertwines with a silent vow, binding hope to the earth's enduring pulse.