Chapter 298: Hello Chang'an
Chapter 298: General, Power Is Truly Great (A Five-Thousand-Word Chapter)
“I was just thinking…” Yao Ran looked at Chang Suining and said quietly, “If not for you stopping them today, would those sixty thousand prisoners really have been taken away—to be sacrificed in the so-called rite to appease Heaven?”
Although she phrased it as a question, there was not the slightest trace of doubt in her tone.
The answer was obvious. In truth, some captives in Luoyang had already been slain in the name of sacrifice.
“I keep thinking—Commander Xiao is still out there leading disaster relief, and you, General, stayed up all last night helping the people of the nearby villages. Prefect Hu and those other generals have been working endlessly as well. Yesterday, Prefect Hu nearly drowned while saving two children. Even with all our precautions, the flood still claims lives each day in the surrounding prefectures…”
Yao Ran’s voice trembled, her words coming in uneven bursts. She hadn’t noticed that her eyes had grown red. “And Grand General Cui too…”
Grand General Cui had said he had an old acquaintance in Xingyang—someone well-versed in flood control. The day before, he had taken that man and departed from Luoyang to inspect and reinforce the key embankments along the Yellow River.
When the Bian River floods, human strength alone cannot resist it. The peril Cui and his men faced was easy to imagine.
Natural disasters were merciless. Yet what she had seen so far were people working together—struggling against calamity, doing all they could to save lives.
It had made her believe, if only for a while, that this was how the world should be.
But then, this morning, she heard that Luoyang was killing people as offerings to Heaven.
They had already slain some, and now they wanted to take all sixty thousand prisoners away—
To kill them in the name of “saving the world” and “appeasing Heaven’s wrath.”
So it only takes a few words—“to calm Heaven’s fury”—to erase sixty thousand living souls?
Yet those sixty thousand men had been preserved through her General’s painstaking effort and planning. Chang Suining had chosen to fight at Bian River precisely to end the war swiftly and minimize the loss of life.
But now, all those efforts—all that blood and strategy—could be undone with two empty words: “sacrifice to Heaven.”
She had not witnessed the sacrifices herself, yet merely imagining the scene chilled her far more deeply than any battlefield ever had—more than Bian River, more than the sight of blood and corpses.
She had heard of living sacrifices before—distant, ancient rumors. But now it was real. Those who would die had faces, voices, and fear—she could feel their terror, and through it, she felt her own. And from that fear, her thoughts began to spiral—and her terror grew even greater.
She could not describe what she felt exactly: fear, confusion, the collapse of her once-clear sense of good and evil.
Once, she had thought it simple—that only men like Xu Zhengye were truly the enemy.
When she had resolved to follow Chang Suining, she had believed she saw a new world, that if she could lend even a little strength, she could help stand against those who brought chaos and ruin.
But today, she realized how naïve she had been.
Someone could decide, with a single command, to take sixty thousand lives—or even more. They didn’t need to wield a sword; they only needed to speak. Just a word—something no one could prove or deny—and lives would be extinguished.
And so she wondered—if they could kill prisoners today, could they not kill refugees tomorrow?
And later?
Would it matter at all whether one was guilty? As long as someone invoked that vague and unchallengeable phrase—“Heaven’s wrath”—would that not be enough to justify any slaughter?
Today it was the officials of Luoyang and Li Xian giving such orders. But what if, next time, it came from someone higher still—from those above all others?
What if the pretext was made grander, more “righteous”?
A different excuse—a false charge, a fabricated sin—anything that could be used to kill…
Then, who could save those whose lives hung at the mercy of power?
Under such circumstances, what difference would one more person—or one less—make?
Or rather, would she too, one day, face the same fate as the captives before her?
She did not think herself overly sentimental; on the contrary, she realized that she had once seen too little, known too little, thought too little. Now, confronted with truths beyond all her former understanding, she was struck with a force that shook her to the core.
Overwhelming confusion swallowed Yao Ran whole. All that she had ever known—the things taught within the boudoir, the lessons from scriptures, the wisdom gleaned from the Buddha’s words—began to waver.
She could not help but ask softly, “Has the world… always been like this?”
It felt as though she had just been born into this world for the first time.
“When Pangu first split the heavens from the earth, there was no order,” said Chang Suining, her gaze steady upon Yao Ran. “All that exists now—law, custom, order—are creations of men. In my eyes, this world has no ‘original form,’ and even if it did, what of it? It is of no importance.”
Yao Ran stared blankly. If that was not important, then what was?
She saw the girl before her—hair unbound, seated cross-legged, serene as if never once lost or uncertain—say to her, “The form of the world does not matter. What matters is what you wish it to become.”
To Chang Suining, the so-called principles of morality and order were nothing more than tools for those in power—means of control, shaped to serve their will.
And she—she would not be bound by such tools. She often said she acted without moral restraint, for only the path she envisioned for this world was the “Dao” she upheld.
She had always been steadfast; she never wavered.
“I… want to make it become…” Yao Ran’s voice trembled. “Can I?”
Chang Suining smiled. “At least you can try. Anyone can try. Even the smallest spark, when joined with others, may ignite a prairie fire.”
How to try?
Yao Ran wished to ask, yet in that same moment, the answer came to her.
She thought of the scene earlier that day—when Chang Suining had stopped those men.
The general had been able to command their retreat because she was General Ningyuan—the one who slew Xu Zhengye, the one beloved and revered by the people.
Merit, prestige, reverence—these granted her power.
Yao Ran finally understood.
She slowly clenched her fingers. “General, power is… truly wonderful.”
The words were simple, perhaps shallow, yet they alone captured what surged within her heart.
Power was wonderful—because with it, one could kill, or save; inspire fear, or command respect.
Chang Suining said, “That is why, since the beginning of time, all people have fought for power.”
Women vied for power within the household; men fought for dominion over the realm. Yet the former rarely knew what true power was.
They were caged, made to claw and bleed for the crumbs tossed from the master’s table, never realizing that beyond the courtyard walls lay a banquet that could make the heavens tremble.
Once one had tasted the true flavor of power, it was impossible not to crave it.
And Yao Ran felt that craving stir within her.
It frightened her—yet it thrilled her.
For the first time, she glimpsed the vast, perilous ocean of power.
Darkness surged in every direction, boundless and deep; and within it, a single lamp burned upon a tiny boat—a beacon.
Her gaze fixed upon that light.
“General,” she whispered, “is every desire for power born of ambition?”
“Yes,” said Chang Suining. “But ambition itself is not wrong. It is part of human nature. What matters is how you face it, control it, and wield it.”
Yao Ran’s eyes shone.
So ambition was not a sin.
Everyone possessed it.
Even women.
“You wield it well, General,” she said softly. “Were it not for your compassion today…”
But Chang Suining shook her head. “It was not compassion alone. Like Li Xian and the others, I have my reasons. Keeping those captives benefits me greatly—including, perhaps, the preservation and expansion of the power you speak of.”
She wanted Yao Ran to understand—that power could indeed be used for good, but it was a double-edged blade.
To judge its use by compassion alone was to invite that blade to one’s own throat one day.
She could not allow Yao Ran to wander from naïveté into a deadlier kind of naïveté.
Yao Ran gazed at her—the girl who spoke so frankly of ambition and benefit—and was momentarily dazed.
The girl in the dark blue robe sat cross-legged, hair falling loosely down her shoulders. Her beauty was almost secondary; it was the aura about her that dazzled, fierce and radiant as flame.
After a long silence, Yao Ran murmured, “Thank you, General. I will remember your words.”
“Then go and change,” said Chang Suining. “Help me sort through these letters and reports.”
With Xiao Min away, all accumulated military affairs fell to her alone. Even when Xiao Min was present, he often sought her counsel in major matters.
Yao Ran nodded quickly and slipped behind the screen.
Her heart still raced.
If a captain commanded a hundred soldiers, and a county magistrate ruled over thousands… then a general commanded tens of thousands.
General Ningyuan now held authority over sixty thousand captives.
If one could command so much—then what of ruling a nation?
The thought startled her so greatly she pressed a trembling hand to her forehead.
She had barely stepped into the path of power, and already her mind flirted with madness.
Just then, Chang Suining unfolded a new letter—it was from Xuanzhou, or rather, a reply.
Before departing for Bianzhou, she had sent word to retrieve someone hidden in the Grand Princess Xuan’an’s private vault. The letter stated that the person had indeed been sent to her—and two others with them.
But who could have foreseen the sudden floods around Bianzhou?
If the letter had arrived, the people should have as well… yet as rain roared beyond the tent, unease crept into her heart.
She immediately sent men to find Chang Ren—but he had not yet returned.
After some thought, she summoned He Wuhu and ordered him to take men to meet them, cautioning him repeatedly to be careful on the road.
“Rest assured, General! Leave it to me!”
He Wuhu’s eyes gleamed with excitement—the General had entrusted him personally with a task!
Outside the tent, the others crowded near.
“Brother, what did the General say?”
“Why are you shaking?”
“Who’s shaking! I’m perfectly calm—terrifyingly calm!”
Giving orders for the General required calmness—calmness was the path to greatness!
The others only exchanged looks. “So, what’s the task?”
He Wuhu lowered his voice. “The General told me to fetch her elder brother!”
“Her real brother?!”
If it were her blood kin, the task would be worth its weight in gold.
He Wuhu puffed up proudly. “Of course! Her real brother—different father, different mother, but real all the same!”
Everyone nodded gravely. After all, General Chang Suining was the adopted daughter of Chang Kuo—a fact no secret to anyone.
Her “brother,” Chang Sui’an, was indeed not of the same blood—but to them, it mattered little. Family was family.
They departed swiftly, following the route on the map given by the General.
Not long after, fearing Li Xian might act rashly and harm the innocent, Chang Suining sent another letter to Luoyang, where though Cui Jing was absent, Deputy General Yu and others remained.
Before long, word of her refusal to hand over the captives reached Luoyang.
“That woman acts without reason!” cried the eunuch chief beside Li Xian, voice sharp as a blade. “General Li, why heed her? If she obstructs us, we can simply send troops!”
Li Xian only smiled faintly. “Grand Commander Cui is inspecting the Bian River and not in Luoyang. Should I start a conflict over this now, how many troops do you think I could actually deploy?”
Even if Cui Jing was absent, his Xuanzhe Army still patrolled daily, aiding flood victims and distributing grain. Those soldiers answered only to his orders.
And besides, Li Xian suspected they had been instructed to watch him.
Recently, with no more captives left to slaughter, they had substituted condemned prisoners. But when even those ran out, they had attempted to seize beggars and vagrants—only to be “coincidentally” stopped by Deputy General Yu.
No, it would be unwise to provoke Chang Suining now.
After all, who was she?
A general who had decided the fate of the realm in a single battle—a hero known across the land.
To be proud and arrogant was her right; the court expected no less.
Why should he lower himself to quarrel with one who shone so brightly in the public’s eyes?
And yet… was she truly foolish—or merely feigning ignorance?
Did she not know that this matter concerned the Holy Emperor herself?
If she did, how dared she act so brazenly?
Whatever her motive, he would make sure to report everything faithfully to the throne.
Suppressing his irritation, Li Xian asked about Xiao Min’s position.
When told that Xiao Min was still occupied with disaster relief, he said calmly, “Then it cannot be helped. Let He Shan and the others return.”
As for the arrow wound and the insult—he would remember them.
“Return? Impossible!” cried the eunuch in outrage. “The ritual has begun! The rain has not stopped—how can the offering cease?”
“Indeed, General,” said another official, frowning deeply. “If we stop now, how will we explain it to the people?”
They had told the populace that the floods were Heaven’s punishment for the surviving traitors of Xu Zhengye, that sacrifices must be made to appease Heaven. To halt now would make them liars.
“The ritual cannot end until the rain does!”
Someone suggested timidly, “Perhaps we can compromise—ask the General to release just a few thousand captives for the offering?”
No one wanted to offend her—not now.
“She will not yield,” said Li Xian, smiling coldly. “And why should we beg? The traitors of the Xu clan are not limited to those captives.”
“You mean…”
He gazed into the downpour. “Luoyang overflows with Xu’s remnants. If we cannot kill the lowly, then we shall kill the lofty. Let the scholars atone in their place.”
And so it began.
Day after day, as rain poured without end, Li Xian led his soldiers through the flooded streets of Luoyang, breaking down the doors of noble houses.
Their fine robes and eloquence were useless against the soldiers’ steel.
The knives cut through silk and flesh alike.
The noble clans had lived in comfort too long. They had forgotten how easily everything they possessed could be swept away.
Now, under the endless rain, they remembered—too late.
(End of Chapter)
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