Chapter 94: Deceiving the Ancients

There are no eternal friends in this world, nor eternal enemies.

In truth, among all the Northern Army, the one who most wished to kill Zhang Chi had always been Daoist Shouyin alone. Gao Yazhi, though he had harbored some enmity toward Zhang Chi at first, had never reached the point of wishing him dead.

Gao Yazhi was the son-in-law of Liu Laozi, the Northern Army’s foremost general—a connection that had accelerated his rise in the ranks and granted him a high position. Young as he was, he had already become a general. Yet by nature, Gao Yazhi harbored a sense of inferiority; he knew that everything he possessed was due to his father-in-law. Without Liu Laozi, he would be nothing.

Last time, when he led eight thousand cavalry in a surprise attack on Jiankang, he had not even crossed the Yangtze before being defeated by Zhang Chi’s five thousand infantry—a humiliation that cost him much face within the Northern Army. Most irksome of all was Daoist Shouyin, who, upon their return, had directly blamed Gao Yazhi’s poor command before Liu Laozi. In his heart, Gao Yazhi’s true hatred was not for Zhang Chi, but for the now-slain Daoist Shouyin.

Furthermore, he had already been rebuked by Liu Laozi over the last defeat. Now, whether Shouyin lived or died was of no concern to him. But with the Way of Five Pecks of Rice having gone to sea, if he failed to uncover the slightest clue to the art of immortality, he had no idea how he would explain himself to his formidable father-in-law.

“If you know the secret,” Gao Yazhi asked, now finding the bargain rather tempting though not without reservations, gesturing to halt the attack, “why would you share it with me?”

Zhang Chi knew nothing of the so-called art of immortality, but he had read many ancient texts and his knowledge far exceeded that of men of old. Moreover, he had once heard Daoist Wuchen speak of immortality. Weaving a tale for Gao Yazhi, he found his audience thoroughly entranced.

With a hearty laugh, Zhang Chi declared, “General, you may not know, but in the days of Pangu, there were five immortal mountains upon the sea, borne aloft by divine turtles in the Eastern Sea. Each mountain possessed a sacred herb: tasting one would prolong life, consuming all would grant immortality. Alas, when Nuwa mended the heavens, she severed the turtles’ legs to set up the four pillars, moved Yuanyiao to Langya, and sank Daiyu to the ocean depths. Since then, the sacred herbs have been incomplete. But there have been those, through fortune, who collected all the herbs and thus achieved immortality, ascending as immortals.”

These words were nearly verbatim from Daoist Wuchen. Even Daoxuan, standing behind Zhang Chi, could not help but feel a little embarrassed, but he had always respected Zhang Chi and thought to himself, “Zhang, your memory truly is remarkable! When Wuchen recited this, I listened merely for amusement, but he remembered every word—impressive!”

Zhang Chi went on, “Although Nuwa severed the turtles’ legs for the sake of patching the sky, she did not cut them all. Three immortal mountains remain beyond the Eastern Sea. They are called Penglai, Fangzhang, and Yingzhou. Should one set foot upon these mountains, the sacred herbs may be gathered and immortality attained.”

His tale was, of course, a fabrication based on legend, lacking any geographical basis. Yet it was enough to mislead men of old. “Once you reach the immortal mountains, the sacred herbs are everywhere. I could never consume them all myself. Why not tell you, so we may cooperate and both benefit by seeking the mountains together? You have a great army at your command, making the search easier. It is best that we aid each other in seeking the elixir of immortality. Otherwise, while I may know the secret, it would be difficult to find it alone. Would you not agree, General?”

Gao Yazhi had never heard the phrase “both benefit,” but the context made its meaning clear, and he nodded thoughtfully. “What you say does make some sense. So the Five Pecks of Rice followers went to sea in search of the immortal mountains?”

“Precisely,” Zhang Chi replied, lying without a hint of shame.

“And in which direction?”

“I do not know the precise location—only that the Five Pecks of Rice followers departed from here, heading northeast.”

Zhang Chi’s words sounded convincing, but Gao Yazhi was no fool. He pressed further, “But if the sacred herbs must all be combined for immortality, and two of the five mountains have sunk, how can the herbs be complete?”

Zhang Chi hesitated, then answered, “Though the herbs are incomplete, Daoist alchemists can surely refine them to perfection.”

“After Nuwa mended the heavens, only three mountains remained. Yet have you not heard that the First Emperor of Qin sent envoys eastward across the sea in search of the elixir of life?” Noticing Gao Yazhi’s skeptical look, Zhang Chi pressed on, “Many emperors sent men to seek the herbs across the sea. Besides the First Emperor, Emperor Wu of Han did the same. Clearly, as long as the herbs from the sea’s immortal mountains are found, Daoist alchemists can refine them and make up for what is missing.”

The tales of Qin Shi Huang and Emperor Wu seeking immortality were widely known. Gao Yazhi had heard them and now nodded, marveling that such legends might have real foundations. The sect of Daoist alchemy, to which Daoist Shouyin belonged, had long been revered by the Northern Army. There were plenty of alchemists they could find. If they could obtain the herbs, who else but the Northern Army could possibly refine the elixir of immortality?

Already, Gao Yazhi was lost in fantasy: If even Qin Shi Huang could not attain immortality, what would it be like if I succeeded? I could take one for myself, enjoy everlasting life, and perhaps give another to my father-in-law, proving that the son-in-law he always dismissed is, in fact, capable of great deeds!

At this thought, Gao Yazhi could hardly contain his eagerness. “Well then, what are we waiting for? Call off the fighting—let us go to sea in search of the immortal mountains before the Five Pecks of Rice followers get there first!”

But Zhang Chi shook his head. “No need to rush, General. Seeking the sacred herbs requires careful planning.”

“And how should we proceed?”

“The Five Pecks of Rice followers may have gone to sea, but the immortal mountains are shrouded in mist and illusion, hardly so easily found. Were it so easy, would not everyone already be immortal? Moreover, the followers have taken all the islanders’ boats. What boats remain for us?”

“Those bandits, stealing the people’s boats!” Gao Yazhi exclaimed angrily, but then realized, “Fortunately, the Northern Army brought many vessels for this crossing—enough to take many soldiers to sea.”

He called them bandits for seizing the commoners’ boats, forgetting that he had done the same when he crossed to Meicen Mountain.

“That will not do,” Zhang Chi objected, not wishing to go to sea with him. His earlier words had only been a ruse—he did not believe in any so-called elixir of immortality. But he could not say so outright. “The sea is wild, and these fishing boats cannot withstand the storms. Before finding the immortal mountains, we would likely perish. With so many soldiers, you need proper ships. Do not be as short-sighted as the Five Pecks of Rice followers.”

“Indeed,” Gao Yazhi agreed at once. He did not wish to find the herbs only to be lost on the return voyage. “But where can we prepare ships fit for the sea?”

At that moment, Liu Yu, who had recently fallen from his horse, returned to Gao Yazhi’s side. Twice bested before Zhang Chi, and twice spared, he was now reluctant to continue the fight. He interjected, “General, why not return to Jingkou first? It is the Northern Army’s stronghold—on the Yangtze, near the sea, with many large ships ready to set sail.”

Jingkou, known in ancient times as Yangzhou, was a key military stronghold along the lower Yangtze. After the gentry fled south, the headquarters of the various “Northern” generals were established there, hence the name “Northern Army.” The Northern Army’s influence in Jingkou was considerable; gathering ships would not be difficult.

“Excellent! Very well!” Gao Yazhi readily agreed. Jingkou was not far from Kuaiji Commandery. The army could reach Jingkou, prepare ships, and set sail without much delay. He immediately gave the order: “Cease fighting. All forces, withdraw to Jingkou!”

No sooner had he spoken than Zhang Chi called out, “General, wait!”

“What now?” Gao Yazhi asked, frustrated. He thought the plan sound.

Zhang Chi explained, “General, the Five Pecks of Rice followers have already gone to sea. If you return to Jingkou to prepare ships and only then pursue them, I fear you will lose their trail.”

Gao Yazhi was at his wits’ end. “What should we do? Without proper ships we risk disaster at sea, but if we take the time to prepare, we lose their trail. What now?”

Seeing him torn, Zhang Chi pressed his advantage. “I have a solution. Once you return to shore, you will no longer need these small boats. Leave them with us; we can quickly pursue the Five Pecks of Rice followers in these light craft. Their ships are small and cannot travel quickly. As long as we follow their trail, we can light smoke signals on the islands along the way. When your large ships arrive, you will not lose your way at sea.”

The plan seemed workable, but Gao Yazhi still had doubts. “How do I know you will not keep the herbs for yourself?”

Zhang Chi smiled. “General, the immortal mountains are shrouded in mystery. Searching for them could take years. Even if I find them, I lack the men to contend with the Five Pecks of Rice followers. I will need your army’s help. Should we succeed, eighty percent of the herbs are yours; I only ask for twenty.”

“Very well.” Gao Yazhi thought long and hard but found no better option. Though he agreed aloud, inwardly his thoughts were sinister: I’ll agree for now—perhaps these people may still be useful. But if we find the elixir, not a scrap will I share with them!

Gao Yazhi and Zhang Chi completed their negotiations at last, though Zhang Chi’s voice was nearly hoarse from shouting across the ranks. The Northern Army withdrew, recrossed the sea, and returned to Guanzian Crossing. Upon arrival, Gao Yazhi ordered a squad of soldiers to sail the boats back to Meicen Mountain, but had all the remaining vessels left for Zhang Chi.

In this battle, the Five Pecks of Rice followers had suffered losses: even Santong was at death’s door. After the Northern Army withdrew, they had nowhere to go and began to recover on the coast. Fortunately, some among them knew medicine and with herbs tended their wounded, so Santong’s life was saved.

Santong’s “sister” seemed genuinely devoted to him, touching even Zhang Chi. She stayed by Santong’s side day and night, refusing to eat or sleep until his danger had passed, and finally broke into a smile through her tears.

Because Santong always addressed Zhang Chi as “Brother Zhang,” she did the same. She said to him, “Brother Zhang, I know Santong admires you. I have long seen that you and he are not true followers of the Five Pecks of Rice. Who are you, really?”

By now, Zhang Chi had no need to conceal the truth. Smiling, he replied, “Strictly speaking, I am still a general appointed by the court to suppress rebels—though I have never spent a day in office.”

“If you are a general, what will you do next?”

Zhang Chi answered honestly, “Before I came to Kuaiji, I had already sent men into Shu. The realm is in chaos. I intend to seek refuge in Shu for now, establish a foothold in the Western Sichuan region, and build my foundation for the future.”

Santong’s “sister” bowed her head in thought, then suddenly fell to her knees before Zhang Chi. “General, I was a libationer of the Five Pecks of Rice, guilty of many crimes. Yet these ghost soldiers under my command were all poor folk with nowhere to go. The court’s armies will show us no mercy. I beg you, have compassion and take us in.”

Her plea for her followers moved the remnant Five Pecks of Rice members to tears; they could not speak, but their eyes brimmed with emotion.

Smiling gently, Zhang Chi did not help her up, but addressed the remnants of the sect in a loud voice, “Are you willing to follow me?”

In truth, what choice did they have? If they did not follow Zhang Chi, where else could they go? The world was vast, but there was nowhere left for them. After a moment of silence, they all knelt behind the libationer, their meaning unmistakable.

Seeing their willingness, Zhang Chi proclaimed, “If you wish to follow me, you must leave behind the ways you learned from Sun Tai. With me, you must never again harm the people. Can you do this?”

These ghost soldiers differed somewhat from others. For instance, those under Yan Yicao were brutal, for a general’s character shapes his men. But Santong’s “sister,” being a woman, was less cruel, and so her followers were more restrained. Now, at Zhang Chi’s question, they replied as one, “We never wished to torment the people. We could not refuse our master’s orders. Now, following you, we will obey your every command.”

“We are all family here—no need for formality,” Zhang Chi said, finally helping the woman to her feet. “You may call me Brother Zhang, as Santong does—it feels more personal. I never expected to find such a heroine in the Five Pecks of Rice sect. In the future, you and Santong must not bully him.”

Those nearby could not help but laugh. Zhang Chi continued, “Rise, all of you. Carry the wounded onto the boats. The rest, board at once.”

“Brother Zhang, are you truly going to sea to chase down the Five Pecks of Rice followers?” Daoxuan asked, puzzled by the order to board.

“Of course not. Everything I said to the Northern Army was just to mislead them—there is no such thing as an elixir of immortality,” Zhang Chi replied. “Now that we have rescued the wine maiden, I intend for us to sail into the mouth of the Yangtze, upriver to Shu. That will be far quicker than any overland route.”

“Brilliant!” Daoxuan blurted, raising his thumb in admiration. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it truly was the best plan. For all his pondering, he could not have devised a better one.