Chapter Forty-Three: Internal Strife and External Threats

In the first year of Yongchang, during the fifth month, the noble Mo-che of the Later Turkic Khaganate drove his armies to invade Dingxiang Prefecture. Empress Wu ordered Xue Huaiyi, Grand General of the Left Guard and Duke of Liang, to act as the Grand Commander of the Qingping Route, leading eighty thousand soldiers to resist the incursion. Hanlin Academician Quan Ce was appointed as the military secretary. After marching for more than twenty days, the army reached the Purple River in the Northern Desert, finding no trace of the Turkic forces. Following Quan Ce’s recommendation, the troops were unleashed to pillage the Turkic populace, seizing tens of thousands of horses, cattle, and sheep, massacring over ten thousand ordinary herders, and burning tents, haystacks, and carts beyond count.

Quan Ce personally took part, clad in scholar’s robes, astride a fine horse, wielding a Persian scimitar, killing and setting fires along the way, poisoning rivers, driving diseased livestock onto the pastures, leaving fields strewn with corpses and an epidemic raging among the animals. In ferocity, he surpassed even the most hardened warriors, earning from the Turks the epithet “The Asura Adjutant.”

The entire army swept through the land, reached the Shanyu Platform, engraved their achievements in stone, and returned.

Upon Xue Huaiyi’s return to the capital, he was impeached by the censors and court officials, who claimed the Qingping Route campaign was a failure, accusing them of slaughtering border civilians, falsely claiming merit by killing innocents. Quan Ce, the instigator, did not escape censure. Led by Zhang Sizong, Rector of the Imperial Academy, ministers attacked him for being duplicitous, feigning scholarly virtue while harboring vicious intent, killing without mercy, utterly lacking in compassion.

Empress Wu summoned Xue Huaiyi, his generals, and their civil aides to court for their defense.

“Your Majesty,” Xue Huaiyi declared, “the Later Turks are savage and unruly, invading our borders, murdering our people, plundering their wealth. Those whom we punished were Turkic enemies—not a single Tang citizen was harmed. Confucius said, ‘Repay wrongs with uprightness’; the Daoists say, ‘Return their methods upon themselves’; and the Buddhists speak of karma—what one sows, one reaps. We have not claimed merit by presenting Turkic heads, only sought, with our army’s thunderous actions beyond the frontier, to ensure the Turks hesitate before provoking the wrath of our forces again.” He quoted the classics, adhering strictly to their words.

“Utter nonsense!” Zhang Sizong rebuked, his face darkening. He was not one to tolerate insult. “The heavenly troops of the Great Tang are the army of kings, punishing evil and consoling the people. How could we be compared to the wolfish Turks?”

Quan Ce countered, “In my humble opinion, the army of the Great Tang is indeed kingly toward its own people. But against enemy nations and their people, it must be an army of might. The two should never be confused.”

“Absurd!” cried another elderly official, his beard snowy white, stamping his feet. “Benevolence and righteousness are the universal principles, valid everywhere. The Great Tang, as the celestial empire, embraces all under heaven, shepherds countless souls, and should act with compassion and prioritize moral instruction. If we resort to violence at every turn, would we not become a laughingstock among our vassal states?”

“As you say, sir, the Great Tang is the legitimate leader of all lands,” Quan Ce retorted, his brows furrowed in anger. “But when a rebellious son defies his elders at home, family discipline is necessary. To continually indulge such insolence would make us unfilial. Even the dragon’s nine sons are not alike; Confucius himself declared some rotten wood cannot be carved. The distinction between friend and foe is inviolable. To show mercy to the enemy is to be cruel to our own people; to be ruthless to the enemy is to be merciful to our own. This is my conviction, unwavering till death.”

His voice rang out, righteous and resolute. The court buzzed—some praised him, others scoffed.

“You, you—what a waste of your scholarly education! Do you truly believe ‘Asura of ruthless hands’ is a title of honor? Rotten wood that cannot be carved!” Zhang Sizong berated, unwittingly echoing Quan Ce’s own reference, his momentum faltering.

“Ha,” Empress Wu laughed softly. “Well said. The spirit of my loyal tiger guards still lives. I have heard that the soldiers of the Eastern Capital possess a martial soul—among the people, they are as fish in water; with the enemy, they fight to the death. That is precisely the meaning.”

Empress Wu sidestepped the debate over merit and fault, citing the hardship of the campaign in the Northern Desert. She promoted Xue Huaiyi to Duke of E, appointing him Grand General of the Right Guard. The other officers received generous rewards of money and goods. Quan Ce was granted a purple-gold fish pouch—a ceremonial honor akin to the double-eyed peacock feather. Only officials of rank three and above could wear purple robes and carry such a pouch, but for him, it remained merely an ornament, never to be worn.

Meanwhile, on another frontier, another war neared its end. Wei Daijia, Right Chancellor of Wenchang, and Yan Wengu, Protector-General of Anxi, led thirty-six armies to campaign against Tibet. At the Yinshijia River, they clashed with Tibetan forces, winning at first but soon suffering defeat. Wei Daijia lacked talent for command and was poor at managing his troops. With bitter cold and scant provisions, many soldiers died of hunger and exposure, and the northwestern Qiang tribes switched allegiance to Tibet. The Tang’s western trade routes teetered on the brink.

Empress Wu, furious, exiled Wei Daijia to Xiu Prefecture in Lingnan, and had Yan Wengu executed for hesitating and delaying vital military action.

These two border wars, together with last year’s suppression of rebellion, gave Quan Ce a firsthand experience of the Tang’s vigor. The court, top to bottom, was quick to advocate war; disagreements were often settled by mustering armies—a lingering habit from the early days of the empire. Yet this was limited to the upper echelons. In reality, the combat effectiveness and discipline of the Southern Office troops had declined. The foundation of this army was the self-cultivating farmer. As land was concentrated, the class of self-sufficient farmers shrank; officials and nobles no longer bore military service. The collapse of the government militia system was only a matter of time. As this system faded and was replaced by recruitment, the central government failed to adapt swiftly, sowing the seeds for future regional separatism.

Quan Ce rubbed his face hard. Enough—he was powerless to intervene in such matters.

The door was knocked. Chisu, wearing a Daoist’s topknot, peered in. “Elder brother, the porter brought a letter, said it was sent by the family of the Prefect of Luoyang.”

Quan Ce took the letter. The envelope read, “For Daoist friend Quan Ce—personal,” which was unusual.

Opening it, he discovered it was not from Wei Yuanzhong, but from Sima Chengzhen, the Daoist patriarch.

The letter’s contents were exceedingly vague: “Glad to hear you have returned from the northern campaign. Battles inevitably harm the body. Here are some humble remarks—please consider them. The harmony of the body lies in the proper placement of qi, blood, and joints. For example, if there is qi in the dantian, even if weak, it is still correct, and careful cultivation will suffice. If one draws upon the primordial spirit, it will surely cause disturbance and disharmony in the body.”

Quan Ce puzzled over this, summoned Quan Zhong to ask about his father’s and Wang Xu’s recent activities, but nothing was amiss. He picked up his brush several times, intending to reply, but could not find the words. He could not believe the Daoist patriarch would write a letter concerning his health without cause.

He set the letter aside, becoming exceptionally cautious, paying close attention to court developments. He attended every gathering and banquet of the Hanlin scholars, hoping to catch some hint or rumor, and his relationships with colleagues became much warmer—but he learned nothing.

At the end of June, Song Jing, a member of the Phoenix Pavilion, suddenly memorialized the court, impeaching Prince Li Wei of Runan for illicit connections and plotting treason. Empress Wu immediately ordered the Censorate to investigate, implicating twelve members of the Li-Tang imperial clan, including the Duke of Poyang. This charge of conspiracy was highly unusual: they aimed to restore the former Emperor Zhongzong, now the Prince of Luling, Li Xian.

Quan Ce was startled, dug out Sima Chengzhen’s letter, and all became clear. The Li family was not united—a cohesive front against the Wu clan, but embroiled in internal struggle. The rivalry between Li Dan and Li Xian was fierce, each supported by factions in sharp conflict, resulting in open confrontation.

Quan Ce sighed. Was the throne, merely a puppet’s seat, truly worth such strife?

Sima Chengzhen obviously supported Emperor Ruizong Li Dan. Wei Yuanzhong, who passed along the letter, opposed restoring the Prince of Luling, yet remained ambivalent, never coming forward himself. But in this matter, he did not support Li Xian’s return.

Why did Sima Chengzhen write to Quan Ce? To urge him to declare allegiance?

Quan Ce felt intense aversion, yet was helpless. He could not survive beneath the Wu clan’s tyranny while also guarding against the Li family’s covert attacks. He could only act on impulse. “Quan Zhong, investigate among those associated with Li Wei—who holds the highest office?”

“Deng Xuanting, Vice Minister of Heaven Affairs,” Quan Zhong replied instantly.

Quan Ce did not ask further, drafting a memorial impeaching Deng Xuanting, accusing him of concealing knowledge of the restoration plot.

Unexpectedly, the memorial swiftly took Deng Xuanting’s life. Arrested at Lijing Gate, he was confessed by his clerks to knowledge of the plot to restore the Prince of Luling. At dawn the next day, Lijing Gate reported Deng Xuanting’s confession and execution.

For a time, all the ministers watched askance.