Chapter 10: Father, I No Longer Wish to Be the Celestial Master

Having walked through blood and fire, Zhu Yuanzhang had long since learned how to control his emotions, to keep his joys and sorrows hidden from his face. Yet today, after a conversation with young Zhang Yi, all he could feel was that his defenses had been shattered.

To Zhu Biao, he was the omnipotent father. To his ministers, he was the master who had led them through peril into clear skies. But who had ever cared, truly, that even with a will of iron, he was still merely a man?

His humble origins had imposed pressures upon him heavier than any borne by emperors of past dynasties. He longed to prove himself, but the more he sought affirmation, the greater his anxiety became.

How best to rule as emperor—Zhu had always been groping his way forward, uncertain. Yet the youth before him claimed not only that he could be a good emperor, but that he would become an emperor for the ages.

An emperor for the ages? Zhu had never even heard of such an idea.

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Zhu’s question was met with Zhang Yi’s sincere nod. His words were not meant to flatter the crowd, but were born of genuine respect for Zhu’s place in history.

Zhu’s title as an emperor for the ages owed much to later generations, such as Li Zhi’s enthusiastic praise for the founding emperor of Ming. Yet if one were to weigh his achievements, Zhu Yuanzhang was deserving of the name.

“What does it mean to be an emperor for the ages?” Zhu Yuanzhang kept his composure, but Zhu Biao grew excited and pressed for an answer.

Zhang Yi lowered his head and thought for a moment before speaking:

“Like the First Emperor, who unified the eight regions and swept the six directions, establishing the first great unification of China; who standardized writing, aligned the tracks of carts, unified weights and measures, so that the people of China became united in heart and mind…”

“Like Emperor Wu of Han, who dismissed the multitude of schools and honored Confucianism alone, bringing unity of thought, expanding the empire, his martial exploits unmatched—the name of Han begins with Emperor Wu!”

“Like Emperor Taizong of Tang, whose reign brought peace and prosperity, whose rule drew envoys from myriad nations; foreigners may not know China, but they know the Tang people…”

He spoke in one breath of three emperors he considered worthy of the title, then paused.

Zhu Biao hastily asked, “And what of His Majesty today?”

Zhang Yi hesitated. Zhu Yuanzhang certainly possessed both civil and military accomplishments, but he had only just ascended the throne; how could he be compared?

After a moment, Zhang Yi said, “Driving out the invaders, restoring China—Brother Huang, think, when was the last time the sixteen prefectures of Youyun returned to the hands of the Han people? It’s been four hundred and fifty-five years… We Han have waited too long for this day!”

“If our Ming dynasty achieves this, would it not deserve the title of emperor for the ages?”

A simple sentence stirred the blood of all present.

Even Zhu Yuanzhang, ever shrewd, allowed a faint smile to touch his face.

Zhu had seen every manner of flattery and bootlicking in his journey, but Zhang Yi’s praise pleased him. First, because the boy did not know his identity, his words were unintentional and thus more comforting. Second, the evaluation was not Zhang Yi’s own, but that of the venerable immortal behind him.

The sixteen prefectures of Youyun were a wound in the hearts of the Han. Zhu Yuanzhang believed he could fulfill the wishes of his ancestors.

“Your Majesty is already worthy of the title for this achievement alone, but the ancestor says your future accomplishments will not be limited to this!”

“Then tell me more,” Zhu Yuanzhang urged, eager to hear the immortal’s appraisal of him, as if the sage could see past and future alike.

But Zhang Yi would not continue. He had already said enough; he had won the bet with his father and satisfied Uncle Huang.

Zhang Yi said, “That’s all I know. Afterward, I woke up!”

“The ancestor said that when he has time, he’ll chat with me again. Next time, next time!”

Seeing that Zhang Yi refused to elaborate, Zhu Yuanzhang fell into thought, gazing at the child before him.

“Old Zhang, you have a fine son. Your family will have successors!”

Zhang Zhengchang’s expression was complicated. The emperor’s words were nearly tantamount to appointing Zhang Yi as the future head of the family.

Had anyone else said this, Zhang Zhengchang would have scoffed, but this was the Son of Heaven!

“If the immortal were alive, he’d be worthy of the title celestial master!” Zhu Yuanzhang’s meaning was clear: if Zhang Zhengchang possessed Zhang Daoling’s abilities, the Zhang family would never have lost the celestial master title.

Recalling the ancestor’s warning delivered through Zhang Yi, Zhang Zhengchang felt less sorrow for losing the title of Celestial Master. As Zhang Yi had said, before the Mongols entered, the Zhangs had always kept a low profile, bearing the demeanor of Daoist sages.

When the Mongols invaded the Central Plains, they initially supported the Quanzhen sect, but it eventually became utterly corrupt, beyond salvation. They had to turn their attention to the Zhangs atop Mount Longhu.

The Zhangs had gained this opportunity through modesty, but ended up becoming another Quanzhen sect themselves.

In fact, their current situation might be even more perilous than Quanzhen’s was.

With the new dynasty established, the emperor needed a prominent example to assert his authority. The Zhangs were the perfect target.

At this moment, Zhang Zhengchang felt that leaving the capital in peace was already a blessing from the ancestor. Seeing the emperor’s fondness for Zhang Yi, his thoughts began to turn.

Perhaps the title of Celestial Master, taken from the Zhangs, could one day be reclaimed through Zhang Yi.

Now, in his eyes, Zhang Yi was not a harbinger of doom or a demon king, but a savior of the family.

He beamed and said, “This child has always been clever; I used to think he was hard to discipline, but it turns out the ancestor is guiding him himself. It’s a blessing for him and for my family!”

“The ancestor is right. Our family has indeed forgotten the foundation of Longhu Mountain. The emperor, wise as he is, must be tempering us for our own good—a grace from heaven!”

Zhang Zhengchang began to make amends, seeking a way out for himself and the emperor.

After all, his recent disappointment, even resentment, had surely not escaped the emperor’s notice.

Zhu Yuanzhang neither confirmed nor denied, his smile ambiguous.

Zhang Zhengchang felt awkward, so he turned his gaze to Zhang Yi.

“Do not disappoint the ancestor’s favor. The future of Longhu Mountain rests on your shoulders!”

Everyone understood the meaning: the forty-third generation head of the Zhang family had been decided.

Zhang Yi remained silent. Zhang Zhengchang’s words brought him no joy; from harbinger of doom to hope of the family, all was based on a lie.

“Father, do you remember the wager we made atop Longhu Mountain?”

Zhang Yi did not accept the mantle, but brought up their earlier agreement. Zhang Zhengchang recalled the bet: if Zhang Yi correctly predicted the emperor’s actions, he would grant Zhang Yi one request.

A few hours ago, Zhang Zhengchang might have been annoyed at Zhang Yi for mentioning it again, but now he felt no such irritation.

After seeing Zhang Yi’s unique connection to the ancestor, his prejudice had vanished.

But Zhang Yi’s next words nearly made him spit blood.

“Father, I don’t want to be Celestial Master. I want to leave Longhu Mountain!”

Zhang Yi stated his request.