Chapter 65 The Massacre (Part One)

Zhang Chi and his companions rode their horses, yet before reaching the eastern city, they saw numerous scattered soldiers fleeing from that direction. Drums had only just sounded, and the battle before the eastern Thunder Gate should have been raging. Why were so many soldiers running back? Zhang Chi found this deeply puzzling.

Turning to Santong, Zhang Chi said, “Go and ask them.”

“Why me?” Santong had grown increasingly lazy since their campaign at Mount Kuaiji, grumbling, “I’m not a general in the army. If I ask, they won’t pay me any mind.”

“If you don’t speak, how will they know whether you’re a general or not?” replied Zhang Chi.

Santong considered this and realized it made sense. He dismounted, strode forward, and imitated the demeanor of generals he remembered. Grabbing one of the fleeing soldiers, he scolded him harshly, “Hey! The battle is still raging—how dare you desert? Are you ignorant of the punishment for this?”

The soldier, startled by Santong’s righteous interrogation, looked up in alarm. Santong, a towering figure, could easily pass for a general, though he wore only simple clothes. The soldier, still stunned by the chaos at the city gate, had no mind to discern Santong’s true identity. Overcome with grievance, he stammered tearfully, “The gate is breached. Everyone’s dead!”

“The gate is breached?” The speed of the defeat surprised Zhang Chi. “And what of Young Master Meng?”

“He was cooked and eaten.” The soldier sobbed, clearly terrified.

“Eaten?” Santong thought he had misheard, his expression incredulous.

The soldier’s eyes reddened, and after a moment’s choking, he explained, “Four elders led their retainers, numbering thousands, and killed Young Master Meng. Then they ordered the gate to be opened and let the rice rebels in. Soon after, those rebels killed the elders and Meng, hacking them into minced meat before the gate. The rebels then gathered in the east, rested, set up huge cauldrons, and boiled them into meat porridge to share among themselves. They forced us surrendered soldiers to eat as well. Those who refused were killed and cooked. I was forced to eat a big bowl myself.”

Such extremity from the followers of the Five Bushels of Rice Dao shocked Zhang Chi. “How did you escape?”

“We surrendered soldiers were fearful, but luckily, just after the rebels finished their meal, word spread that the Holy Maiden had arrived from the immortal mountain across the sea. The rebels all rushed to the gate to greet her, to bow to the Holy Maiden. Amid the chaos, we fled.”

Zhang Chi sighed and signaled Santong to let the soldier go, but the unsettling news lingered in his heart. He had never imagined that the followers of the Five Bushels of Rice Dao would resort to such cannibalism. Zhang Chi frowned, both horrified and thoughtful. Most followers were refugees. This incident revealed the depth of the era’s social conflict: though the movement carried hints of cultishness, it should not have compelled its followers to eat human flesh. The refugees lived in hardship, bones littering the roads, while most members of the gentry indulged in wine and pleasure, oblivious and incompetent. It was no wonder these people rebelled, yearning to drink the blood and eat the flesh of the gentry!

“Pity Young Master Meng, a hero among the gentry,” Zhang Chi murmured, shaking his head.

“Brother Zhang, what should we do now?” Santong, shaken, asked. To kill and eat people was as monstrous as any demon.

“Are you of the gentry?” Zhang Chi asked, seeing Santong’s fearful look.

Santong didn’t understand the question, but shook his head.

“Exactly. They feast on the gentry. You, a mountain bandit and commoner, have nothing to fear.”

Santong pondered and realized Zhang Chi was right, easing his worries. Daoxuan pressed his hands together and silently recited a Buddhist verse, unable to bear such cruelty. “Brother Zhang, with the Five Bushels of Rice Dao breaking into Shanyin, disaster is certain. Will you not intervene?”

“I’d like to, but how?” Zhang Chi spread his hands helplessly.

Indeed, Shanyin was not his territory. He commanded no troops. Even if willing, he was powerless. Miss Ruoshui said, “Sun Tai is leading the charge into Shanyin; a massacre is inevitable. In such chaos, you must first ensure your own safety.”

A massacre was certain. Even the gentry who opened the gates had been killed and devoured; what hope for the rest? The Five Bushels of Rice Dao preached the abolition of sages and wisdom, the creation of a world of equality—how could they tolerate the gentry’s existence? With their entry, the gentry of Shanyin...

How laughable that the Wang and Xie clans, blinded by their rivalry between Buddhism and Daoism, stood by as the Five Bushels of Rice Dao entered the city. Soon enough, their tears would come too late.

Short-sighted, utterly short-sighted! Zhang Chi’s thoughts turned to the Wang and Xie clans; his heart ached. Miss Wang had labored to preserve the Xie clan’s glory, but how could she succeed when the clan could see no further than its own feet? Filth cannot be made into a wall.

“Brother Zhang, what should we do now?” Daoxuan asked.

“What else? Once the Five Bushels of Rice Dao enters, they’ll pillage and slaughter the gentry. In the chaos, we must seize the chance to rescue Wine Maiden.” Zhang Chi shook his head.

Zhang Chi was not mistaken. Most followers of the Five Bushels of Rice Dao were refugees, driven by hunger to embrace its creed and follow Sun Tai in rebellion. Shanyin, a city famed for its wealth since ancient times, now faced inevitable pillage and slaughter.

But the time had not yet come. The Holy Maiden and the Master had not entered the city. When they arrived, Shanyin’s fortunes would surely change.

At that moment, Grand Libationer Yan Yicao was restraining his troops at Thunder Gate, preparing to welcome the Holy Maiden. She was said to have come from the Eastern Sea; Kuaiji Commandery bordered the ocean, and many followers had witnessed her arrival from the waves. Word spread that she came from the immortal mountain, sent to restore the Dao by the Celestial Master, and none doubted it.

Yan Yicao, having taken Thunder Gate, was in no hurry to advance, waiting at the gate. After several hours, a cry arose: “The Master and Holy Maiden are coming!”

All eyes turned. Along the distant horizon, a carriage appeared, then vanished in an instant. The Daoist followers, puzzled, saw the carriage reappear, now much closer. In the blink of an eye, it vanished again, only to reappear half a mile from the gate.

Such miraculous travel could only mean the arrival of the Master and Holy Maiden. The followers of the Five Bushels of Rice Dao cheered.

The carriage rolled slowly through Thunder Gate. Though both Master and Holy Maiden arrived, the latter never stepped from the carriage.

Only Master Sun Tai emerged, climbed the city wall, and addressed the masses gathered below: “My teacher, Master Du, ascended to immortality more than ten years ago, and passed the title of ‘Master’ to me. Unfortunately, my skills are shallow. Yet my teacher, knowing our intent to spread the Dao and establish a world of equality, has sent the Holy Maiden from the immortal mountain to assist us. Her powers are vast—she commands eighty-one thousand ghost soldiers. Surely she will help us achieve universal harmony!”

No sooner had Sun Tai finished than thunderous cheers erupted below. Sun Tai, seeing his goal accomplished, nodded slightly to Yan Yicao, who understood. He called loudly to the crowd below: “With the Holy Maiden’s magic to aid us, and ghost soldiers in the shadows, follow me into the city to slaughter the fiends!”

Bolstered by the promise of divine support, Yan Yicao descended the wall and led the charge. Tens of thousands of followers surged forward, sweeping into Shanyin.