Chapter 28: Calamity Descends While Sitting Peacefully at Home

The officials seated in the Secretariat—who among them was not a wily old fox, seasoned through centuries of cultivation? Though they dared not easily inquire about palace affairs, they were well aware of the emperor’s suppression of Dragon and Tiger Mountain. In the previous dynasty, what status did Dragon and Tiger Mountain hold? The head of the Zhang family was the undisputed leader of the Daoist sects, a great real person, a Celestial Master, and the overall head of Daoist affairs. Of all the illustrious families that have survived through the ages in China, perhaps only the Kong family of Qufu could outshine the Zhangs.

Yet the Zhangs and the Son of Heaven shared old ties, and at the founding of Ming, the emperor likewise imposed his authority upon them. The words spoken by Li Shanchang served to remind those present not to misinterpret the emperor’s intentions. It was not monks or Daoists, nor Dragon and Tiger Mountain itself, that the emperor sought to suppress, but the remnants of the previous dynasty...

Just as the Zhang family enjoyed prosperity in the last dynasty, so too did the Kong family in Qufu, revered to the utmost during Mongol rule; the Duke for the Continuation of the Sage even served as an official in court. If the emperor meant to deal with Zhang Zhengchang, what of the head of the Kong family?

The old foxes present understood with a nod. Though Ming had been established, the wars in the north were far from over. The army of Grand General Xu Da was still campaigning in Shandong. The head of the Kong family was as fickle as a blade of grass atop the wall, but he clearly lacked Zhang Zhengchang’s insight into the grand scheme. Zhang Zhengchang, even before Ming was founded, openly supported the emperor. Yet despite such loyalty, he hurried to offer the first incense, only to be scolded by Old Zhu.

Old Zhang, in the previous dynasty, was at most an ennobled Daoist overseeing the Daoist faith, while the Duke for the Continuation of the Sage, aside from his title, had served as Minister of Rites. Even now, with Ming’s armies approaching Qufu, he remained two-faced, harboring fantasies about the Northern Yuan.

Such a man, how could the emperor not deal with him? Even as a descendant of the Sage Confucius, the emperor would not openly punish him, but humiliation was inevitable.

The more they thought, the more they shuddered in fear. Had it not been for Li Shanchang’s reminder, they would surely have misunderstood the emperor’s meaning.

“Thank you, Left Chancellor, for your guidance!”

“Your words have opened my eyes!”

The officials rose one after another to offer their thanks to Li Shanchang, who squinted, delighted by their gratitude.

“I do not say this to boast of my ability to fathom the imperial will, but to remind you all: many officials in Ming served in the previous dynasty. Some things must be abandoned. Never follow the example of the one in Qufu!”

Their hearts trembled, and they bowed again, accepting Li Shanchang’s favor. Li Shanchang relished this feeling of being surrounded by reverence, his hand pressing upon the imperial edict that had come back to him, full of meaning.

“But then again, a person’s origin is most important. Some people, no matter how capable, will never become the emperor’s most trusted…”

He did not name anyone, but all present seemed to know exactly to whom he referred; thus these old foxes lowered their eyes and did not respond. A certain obscure official surnamed Liu in court was, once more, subtly confronted by Li Shanchang. Both were close confidants of the emperor; none dared provoke them. Especially Li Shanchang, the Left Chancellor before them—he was good in all things, a fine statesman, save for his narrow heart, which tolerated no rivals.

Seeing their silence, Li Shanchang was unconcerned. He returned to reading the imperial edict’s contents.

“Monks and Daoists holding rituals, mingling men and women, indulging in food and drink—those who violate shall be strictly dealt with by the authorities.”

The blade that Emperor Hongwu brought down upon the monks and Daoists was swifter than expected. Li Shanchang surmised that the Celestial Master who burned the first incense likely had not yet returned to Dragon and Tiger Mountain before the sword fell upon the Buddhist and Daoist orders.

The Ming emperor decreed that henceforth, only one large Daoist temple and one Buddhist monastery would remain in each prefecture and county, with all monks and Daoists concentrated and managed together. They were strictly forbidden to “mix with the people outside.” In simple terms, they were to be confined, not allowed to go out and trouble the common folk…

This single edict severed the root of both Buddhist and Daoist orders, and indirectly meant that all monks and Daoists nationwide would be managed as one.

Li Shanchang could already picture the despair on the faces of those monks and Daoists upon hearing this command. For, in truth, it was little different from imprisonment.

Yet, aside from this command, the emperor left a loophole, granting direct disciples of Dragon and Tiger Mountain special privileges, and specifically mentioning that within the capital, the ban would not yet apply.

In these details, these old foxes could glimpse some of the emperor’s intentions. The emperor had severed Dragon and Tiger Mountain’s limbs, yet hypocritically handed them a crutch.

“They say the child Zhang Zhengchang left behind was exiled by him—a pitiful child, now a sacrifice to this struggle! The waters of the capital are deep; one hopes this young Celestial Master survives.”

Li Shanchang muttered to himself; the thought flashed through his mind and was gone.

The one he kept in mind, Zhang Yi, was still waiting day after day in the Daoist temple for news from Huang Mu. Huang Mu was missing, and Dragon and Tiger Mountain seemed cut off from Purity Temple. The temple was already remote, and Zhang Yi, never leaving the premises, knew nothing of the world’s storms.

A few days later, he received the emperor’s reward: twelve taels of silver, a meaningless title, and some assistance for simple repairs to the temple. Thereafter, it was as if the palace had forgotten his existence—no audience, no further action.

Thus, more than a month passed.

Zhang Yi’s days were tranquil. Each morning, he earnestly practiced a routine of tai chi he had learned in his previous life to stretch his limbs.

Surviving in this world was no easy feat. At seven, his bones had not yet fully grown, so strenuous exercise was not an option; thus, tai chi was ideal.

After his practice, Zhang Yi would tinker with alchemy in his room. Though he claimed outwardly to be refining pills, he was truly working on things to protect his life.

Yet the materials promised by the Huang father and son never arrived, nor did they themselves. In his uneventful days, Zhang Yi could not help but complain that the pair lacked loyalty—especially Huang Mu, who had taken the formula for the smallpox vaccine and disappeared without a word.

This matter only made Zhang Yi feel more that the Huang family was unreliable. In his helplessness, he had to seek other ways to collect materials.

But it was not easy. Deng Zhongxiu, who lived with him, was as unfamiliar with the capital as he was; trade was not Deng’s forte, and though he tried to gather some materials, they were few and incomplete.

Zhang Yi considered whether he should venture out with Deng Zhongxiu to search for what he needed. At that moment, someone suddenly knocked at the door outside.

“Is the young Celestial Master from Dragon and Tiger Mountain here?”

Though Purity Temple had been rewarded by the emperor, the palace neither bestowed a plaque nor announced it publicly; incense offerings were almost nonexistent. Thus, someone coming to the temple was quite strange.

Deng Zhongxiu opened the door, and together with Zhang Yi, greeted the visitor.

A servant entered, scanning the surroundings with a look of disdain before addressing Zhang Yi:

“You’re the hostage from Dragon and Tiger Mountain, right? Come with me—my mistress needs to see you!”

“What business is it?” Zhang Yi hadn’t yet replied, but Deng Zhongxiu stepped forward to ask.

“I am from the Chang household, sent by my mistress to have you perform a ritual for our young master!”

The servant’s words left Zhang Yi with a peculiar expression. Was this the Chang household he knew?

Before Zhang Yi could answer, Deng Zhongxiu had already declined on his behalf:

“Brother, my junior is still very young…”

He had barely finished the sentence when the servant threw a punch, knocking Deng Zhongxiu to the ground.