Chapter Twelve: The Supreme Ancestor Above (Part Two)

At the far end of the hall stood a semicircular shrine filled with an assortment of ritual items that Guo Kang himself barely understood. The shrine was tiered, and at its highest central point rested a gigantic gilded cross. Sitting slightly to the front and side of the cross was a middle-aged man with long, unkempt hair, clad in a robe, his hands forming a religious gesture.

“This is... Brother Tian Yishu?” Sun Shiwan, clearly familiar with such temples, asked. “But isn’t he supposed to be hanging on the cross?”

“That’s precisely the unique feature of our Lady’s Temple,” Wu Han began enthusiastically explaining the distinctive aspect. “When Khan Bayan Temur first entered the capital, he came to worship at the Lady’s Temple. Seeing Brother Tian hanging on the cross, the Great Khan felt pity and decreed: ‘What crime has this man committed to deserve a thousand years of punishment? Today, as the Roman Khanate establishes its rule and all celebrate, we shall grant amnesty to Brother Tian and all those punished across the land, showing mercy.’ The officials were ordered to record this.”

“Originally, Brother Tian was nailed in three places: both hands and his legs. The Great Khan then further decreed: ‘Heaven forgives him—remove the nail from the left hand; Earth forgives him—remove the nail from the right hand; I forgive him—remove the nail from the leg.’ The patriarch was instructed to record this.”

“With the three nails removed, Brother Tian was taken down,” Wu Han said proudly. “Of all the churches in the world, only here does Brother Tian enjoy the Khan’s mercy directly. Thus, other places may adjust according to circumstances, but in our temple, Brother Tian always sits before the cross.”

“That is indeed a rare feature,” Sun Shiwan agreed.

“Brother Tian must be very pleased to have been freed; worshipping here surely brings greater blessings,” Wu Han added, pointing to the statue.

Upon closer inspection, the statue’s expression was remarkably lifelike—not one of suffering, but beaming with joy and ease. It was clear that Brother Tian was in a very happy and approachable state of mind. Seeing this, Sun Shiwan no longer hesitated and began to pay his respects to the statue. Guo Kang, Wu Han, and the others quickly followed, performing their bows in unison.

After worshipping Brother Tian, Sun Shiwan glanced at another figure beside the statue. This one sat centrally, dressed in Greek-style royal attire, holding a Roman emperor’s scepter, crowned with the cymbal hat typical of Yuan dynasty emperors. Upon closer look, this was the largest deity statue in the shrine.

“Forgive my poor eyesight, but who is this god?” Sun Shiwan asked curiously.

“Don’t blame you, esteemed official. This deity’s influence is limited; beyond our country, very few worship him,” Wu Han replied, then shifted his tone. “But here, he is one of our most important gods.”

“Look, the main figures are all him,” he said, pointing to a prominent religious painting near the shrine. “This is Romulus Genginus, the divine ancestor of Rome.”

“This is a Roman tradition—the composite god,” he continued, “though not many worship him nowadays; primarily, it is us here who maintain his cult.”

“Romulus is the true founding Great Khan of Rome. His youth was fraught with hardship, losing his father very early. Later, with the help of Hoandalmus, he established his power. However, as their tribe grew, the brothers quarreled and fought. In the end, Romulus killed his brother Remus and founded Rome.”

“Romulus’s story is not just historical—it serves as a warning that even brothers might come to deadly conflict over interests. Though such strife recurs, we must learn from it.”

Wu Han’s sudden turn to moralizing made Guo Kang uneasy, but Sun Shiwan looked even more uncomfortable.

“Can these two really be grouped together?” he muttered.

“Of course,” Wu Han said. “Rome’s foster parent was a wolf; Mongolia’s ancestor was the blue wolf. Rome’s founding was marked by brotherly strife, as was Mongolia’s. Rome was heavily influenced by the more civilized Greek world—its ancestors likely came from there. Mongolia was influenced by the even more advanced Central Plains, with ancestors likely from that region. Early Romans had a system of hundreds led by elders who convened the kurultai; Mongols had a system of ten-thousands led by nobles who convened the kurultai...”

“You see, these are all quite similar,” he summarized. “Thus, Rome is Mongolia, and Mongolia is Rome.”

“If you put it that way... maybe it makes sense,” Sun Shiwan said, dumbfounded.

“Our God and divine ancestors here differ from those in the Central Plains. Even common folk can worship them freely,” Wu Han reminded him. “So there’s no need to worry about taboos—just worship directly.”

Hearing this, Sun Shiwan pondered briefly and then bowed toward the divine ancestor’s statue.

“And what about this last one?” he asked.

“This was brought by Prince Temür, the royal uncle, from the faith of the Timurids—the prophet Muhammad of the Tianfang religion,” Wu Han explained. “Within our Khanate, many followers of Tianfang come to trade or settle. Our friendly neighboring states also have many adherents. Therefore, we have sacred images of Tianfang religion here, with equal status.”

“I’ve done quite a bit of business with Tianfang followers; I don’t think they have statues like this,” Sun Shiwan was puzzled.

“You’re right. But the ‘Holy Statue of the Prophet’ is a new kind of religious artifact created independently by the Roman Khanate. The statues come from the legitimate Timurid Empire of the Tianfang faith. Here, divinely chosen individuals are granted ‘Imani’ to guide prayer rituals. As a ‘believer,’ during your free commercial travels, you will encounter fellow worshippers with varying sects and unique doctrines, together overcoming unscrupulous merchants and gaining extra profit—while gradually uncovering the truth of ‘faith,’” Wu Han recited at length.

“So this thing was given by the Timurids,” Guo Kang quickly explained. “Originally, the Tianfang world didn’t have such artifacts; during the Ilkhanate period, the Mongol Khans created them for easier understanding and promotion. The Timurids also made numerous statues, and when the two allied, they gave us some. That’s how ours came to be.”

“Don’t those believers and religious scholars protest?” Sun Shiwan glanced at the statue’s distinctly Timurid face—obviously, like many civilizations, the Timurid Khanate had learned to depict their rulers’ faces on divine icons.

“We don’t know,” Wu Han shook his head. “Perhaps the scholars couldn’t out-argue Prince Temür.”