The Siege of Hanzhong (5)
The moment I passed through the gates of Yangping Pass, a vast plain unfolded before my eyes. The mountains themselves, quite literally, served as yet another rampart shielding Hanzhong. The one broad passage through was sealed off by Yangping Pass, and every other route was far too perilous for an enemy to risk — I had more or less expected as much from the moment the pass first loomed into view, but as defensive ground went, this was truly superb.
Once I had entered Hanzhong proper, I established myself in a suitable spot without delay and set about deciding how to treat those who had surrendered.
"You are Zhang Lu, I take it?"
"...I am, General-in-Chief."
Escorted in by Gan Ning, I looked upon the gentle-faced man kneeling on the ground. His frame carried a good deal of flesh, yet there was nothing unsightly about it — if anything, he had the look of a thoroughly kind-hearted man. Was there anyone alive on whom the word magnanimous fit so well? Even so, out of consideration for his standing as the ruler of a state, I had not had him bound with rope.
Gazing at Zhang Lu as he waited in silence to learn his fate, I spoke.
"Let's see... I hear that you founded a religion called the Wudoumi Dao — the Five Pecks of Rice Sect — and ruled Hanzhong by its hand."
"That is so."
As if to ask what there could possibly be to hide, Zhang Lu answered my question with perfect composure.
Zhang Lu was a stranger figure than I had anticipated. This was the ruler who had founded the Wudoumi Dao — the faith later hailed as the fountainhead of Taoism — built a nation in which government and religion were one, and then governed Hanzhong upon that foundation. Insofar as his creed became the wellspring of Taoism itself, one could well say he had left his mark upon the history of religion.
...Though in Romance of the Three Kingdoms, he made his exit without so much as a shred of presence.
If the Taiping Dao was a faith that erupted into revolt like wildfire beneath its banner of toppling the Later Han government, then the Wudoumi Dao was a faith that had simply planted itself in a remote city and lived away merrily among its own, troubling no one. The reason it came to be called the Wudoumi Dao — the Way of Five Pecks of Rice — was a simple one: anyone wishing to join had to offer up five pecks of rice.
I pored over the bamboo slips recording just how Zhang Lu had governed Hanzhong all this while. He held participation in public works and the donation of food up as virtues, and established institutions that freely distributed the food his faithful gave, so that no traveler by the roadside need ever go hungry. There was even an account that he divided his followers into ranks of their own, elevating any who read the Dao De Jing penned by Laozi to a higher station. In other words, the faithful of the Wudoumi Dao lent their labor to public works, gave of their own food to those who hungered, and applied themselves to study so that they might read the Dao De Jing.
...Hold on. What's with this guy? He's far more capable than I gave him credit for.
So there was a reason, then, that the Wudoumi Dao never remained a mere cult of charlatans and instead became the fountainhead of Taoism. This man had indeed founded a religion, but nowhere in the record was there a single instance of his using it to fleece his own people. He had shown a faint appetite for power, true — renaming Hanzhong to Hanning and the like — but set against the other warlords of the age, that much was downright endearing.
I opened my mouth in an even voice.
"Unlike a certain someone elsewhere, you surrendered of your own accord, and I intend to give that its due."
"……"
At my words, Zhang Wei, who stood nearby, flinched and shuddered from head to toe.
That's right. You've got something to feel guilty about, don't you? If that man hadn't insisted on a last-ditch fight to the death, I could very likely have taken Hanzhong that much sooner. To be sure, I had fought dirty enough that there was scarcely any damage to speak of, but the whole affair had dragged on for a considerable time.
When I let my gaze slide slyly toward Zhang Wei, Zhang Lu lowered himself in deference and spoke.
"General-in-Chief, I beg you for lenient treatment."
"...Hmm."
Should I call this a case of being blessed with a good brother? I had no intention of doing anything to Zhang Wei either way, but a little quiet pressure would surely teach him to mind his manners on his own.
Adopting the tone of a man willing to overlook things just this once, I turned to Zhang Wei.
"You are to cause no trouble from this point forward."
"I-I shall obey!"
White as a sheet, Zhang Wei flung himself to the ground and bowed. From the look of it, he knew perfectly well what Her Majesty had done to those who had hurled insults at me to my face.
...Hm. I'll be sending another letter, won't I.
If I simply left things be, Zhang Wei might well be summoned to the capital before long and then vanish without a trace. Liu Yu — the woman they called the pillar of the imperial house, who handled all correspondence between the Emperor and myself — had a marked tendency to gather every last detail about anyone who spat out words capable of staining my dignity and report it straight to Her Majesty. She had done it even back when I was merely General-in-Chief; now that I was the Gukseo, her sovereign's consort, I hardly needed to say more. These days she went hunting for the pettiest slight as though her eyes were ablaze.
She isn't Big Brother, so what in the world is this?
When enemies met on a battlefield, trading insults across the lines was treated as a matter of course — and now that perfectly ordinary custom could very nearly cost a man his life. Having resolved, as I had today, to spare at least one man, I carried on speaking while mentally drafting what the letter would need to say.
"In consideration of how well you have governed Hanzhong until now, and of the fact that you neither burned the storehouses nor cast your people into the flames of war, you shall be treated with generosity."
"It is an honor, General-in-Chief."
Zhang Lu bowed to me again and again in gratitude.
Hmm... what sort of office would suit him, I wonder. Going by what the Cao Cao of the original history had done, would it not be best to simply let Zhang Lu govern Hanzhong once more? The Wudoumi Dao had already spread to every corner of Hanzhong, and it was hardly a violent sect, so I could see no cause for objection. I was hardly a believer in any faith myself, but I knew full well that human history could not be written without religion. Faith is not something that can be stamped out simply because one wishes it gone. Is it not human nature, after all, to want a thing all the more the moment one is told not to do it? There had certainly been attempts to eradicate religion from the world, but so far as I knew, not a single one had ever succeeded.
After a moment's deliberation, I recalled how I had entrusted Jiangxia to Huang Zu — once a surrendered general under Liu Biao — and gave a nod. Right. If I could hand Jiangxia to a man like that, what was Hanzhong by comparison?
In my usual tone, I spoke to Zhang Lu.
"You will continue to govern Hanzhong, just as you always have."
"...! Th-thank you!"
No sooner had the words left my mouth than Zhang Lu, who had worn a gloomy air the whole while, lit up as though the sun had broken through. Surrender or no, appointing a man who had once taken the field against me to govern the region in his own right was exceptional treatment by any measure. No doubt that was how Cao Cao, the so-called Hero of Chaos, had drawn so many talents to her banner — by pursuing precisely this kind of policy. Of course, the karma of the Xuzhou Massacre ran so deep that she had slipped and fallen just short of unifying the realm.
The talents who served Zhang Lu, too, plainly had not expected such a decision from me, and their bewilderment showed; as for Zhang Wei — the man who had clamored for a fight to the bitter end — his expression was a sight well worth seeing. A decision like this would carry a single message to every warlord who, in days to come, found himself weighing whether to take up arms against me or not.
"If we simply surrender quietly, might we not live out the rest of our lives without ever wanting for anything?"
"...Is that so?"
That was the message: surrender left no loose ends, whereas crossing swords with me and earning my displeasure most certainly did. It was already a battle whose odds of victory were vanishingly slim — and even in cases where their opponents held the stronger claim to legitimacy, with riches and honor showered upon any man who knelt willingly, who would possibly refuse to kneel? Unless a man had been driven mad by the ambition to wear the crown himself — like a certain Liu or a certain Yuan somewhere — he would surrender to me.
I spoke to Zhang Lu.
"Bear in mind, however, that should you raise the banner of rebellion a second time, there will be no next chance."
"I shall obey."
Zhang Lu bowed with impeccable courtesy, and I, watching him, cast a glance toward Zhao Yun and Gan Ning.
"……"
The two of them, as though the task were nothing at all, swung their weapons and severed the ropes binding the officers of Zhang Lu's army whom they had taken captive.
There were soldiers aplenty who could have untied those ropes — why insist on swinging weapons about? A warning, perhaps, that they had best watch their own conduct from here on out?
I waved a hand at the officers, who still wore dazed expressions.
"You may withdraw now. There remains business I must attend to separately."
"Yes!"
Zhang Lu answered, joy welling up plain across his face. Judging by that, betrayal is the last thing I'll ever need to fear from him.
I watched Zhang Lu make himself scarce with remarkable speed, then turned my head.
"Gan Ning."
"Hm? Boss, what is it?"
Gan Ning replied with such easy familiarity that it bordered on disrespect.
And what's with the 'Boss' this time? Was this her own peculiar way of minding her manners? Truly a one-of-a-kind character, I thought, and let it pass without ceremony.
"Did you see to the task Zhuge Liang assigned you?"
"Ah... that?"
At my question, Gan Ning turned her head and beckoned with a waggle of her hand to a soldier who looked to be Su Fei. At her signal, Su Fei stepped forward and lifted the lid of the box he carried.
"……"
When I saw what lay inside, I held my silence for a moment. Within the box Su Fei carried was the head of a man with a singularly vile face.
"Ah — just so there's no misunderstanding, this one was also done on the little miss strategist's orders."
"...Zhuge Liang?"
"Said the man had too many sins to his name, so I was to kill him and pass it off as an accident." Gan Ning gave a shrug of her shoulders. "Dressed it up so it looked like his little collaboration scheme got found out and the officers around him did him in."
"...I see."
Considering the temperament of that woman as I knew her, it was nothing out of the ordinary. And yet I hadn't known she would put a man to death without a hair's breadth of hesitation.
"My lord — might you entrust the handling of those who collaborate from within to me?"
"Hm? I don't particularly mind, but..."
"Thank you."
I found myself recalling Zhuge Liang's expression from that day — one that betrayed nothing whatsoever of what she might have been thinking.
'Eep...'
Only now did I feel I understood why Pang Tong had trembled so violently at the sight of it.