Chapter 341: Two Armies Confront Each Other

Li Qing’an walked over to the window and pointed to an open passage west of the mosque. “I’ve already carefully examined the surrounding terrain. We can dig an artificial river along the back of the library and the academy on the west side, connecting it to the Bukhara River. This way, this square will become an island in the river—neither belonging to Muslims nor Zoroastrians, but a public space in Bukhara. As for the ownership of this temple, I have three proposals for you to consider.”
Both sides’ eyes widened. Turning the Bukhara Square into an island in the river—how could he come up with such an idea? Yet it seemed to be the only way to resolve the dispute, making the square belong to no one. Luo Ji, the deputy king nearby, suddenly grasped Li Qing’an’s strategy. Li Qing’an was using a separation tactic—since neither side wanted the temple for themselves, then no one should get it.
The meeting room fell eerily silent. Neither side had anything to say about Li Qing’an’s decision to dig a canal and turn the square into an island. After all, Li Qing’an was the ultimate authority over the river. If he wished, he could even demolish the entire Bukhara. Who would dare oppose him building a small river? Moreover, both sides were concerned about the ownership of the mosque, so they listened attentively as Li Qing’an presented his three proposals.
Li Qing’an glanced at everyone and, seeing no objections, slowly said, “The first proposal is to divide it in half—splitting the temple’s foundation and building a partition wall in the middle. Given the temple’s large size, after dividing it and adding the open space in front of it, both sides should be able to build their own temples.”
Both sides remained silent. Li Qing’an’s first proposal of a partition wall was barely acceptable to the Muslims, as they wanted the tomb of their former leader. As long as the tomb belonged to them, they could accept giving some land to the Zoroastrians. But the Zoroastrian elders could not accept it. For them, the sanctity lay in the entire temple itself, which was like an incarnation of their god. Dividing it in half for the Muslims would be the same as desecrating their god.
Although each side had its own thoughts, no one spoke. When it came to Li Qing’an’s second proposal, he nodded and said, “The second proposal is that the temple belongs to no one. I plan to use that land to build government offices.”
“That’s unacceptable!”

Both sides voiced their opposition in unison; neither the Muslims nor the Zoroastrian elders could accept a third party occupying the temple site. Li Qing’an had anticipated their resistance, so he smiled slightly and said, “Since the second plan won’t work, well then, I’ll propose a third plan. I know that both Zoroastrianism and Islam revere nature and green life. Therefore, my third plan is to demolish all man-made structures on the original site and plant a dense forest there. It will belong to both Muslims and Zoroastrians, and no one is allowed to set foot there. What do you think?”

Li Qing’an’s third plan thrilled both sides. It belonged to no one and was meant for nature. The Muslim elders imagined their leader resting in the forest, accompanied by the sounds of birds and the fragrance of flowers. The Zoroastrian elders saw it as a continuation of the life of Ahura Mazda, representing light and nature. More importantly, it was neither a mosque nor a temple nor any other man-made structure, but simply a forest.

Vice King Anguo also secretly admired this plan. He had guessed that Li Qing’an would leave the land vacant for a long time to delay the dispute, thinking it might be the best solution at the moment. But he never expected Li Qing’an to propose planting a forest, which meant ending the delay and giving the vacant land a new owner—nature, or heaven. To Muslims, nature belonged to Allah, but to Zoroastrians, it belonged to Ahura Mazda. Faith resides in the heart, and a forest represented their faith—a true display of wisdom that resolved the deadlock between the two sides.

“We agree!”

The Muslim elders were the first to express their approval. After some discussion, they agreed to the third plan. “We hope this forest will exist forever.”

Li Qing’an then turned to the Zoroastrian elders, who were also discussing in hushed tones. Finally, one of their leaders said, “We reluctantly agree.”

They agreed reluctantly because the land also held the burial site of a former Shiite religious leader. Forty years had passed since his burial, making it difficult to find his remains, which might have already turned to dust. The Zoroastrian elders had no choice. They didn’t want to provoke further bloodshed or see children and the elderly killed. They knew that Li Qing’an’s third plan was the best solution at the moment, so they accepted it.

With the final statement from the Zoroastrian elders, everyone in the meeting room breathed a sigh of relief. Li Qing’an said cheerfully, “Since both sides have agreed, let’s sign a memorandum. The Tang army will be responsible for planting forests, but I hope you will share the task of digging canals. Once the canals are completed, this square will no longer be easily accessible. I will relocate the library and the academy to the south, and all buildings will be demolished to be replaced with forests.”

The two sides discussed some detailed issues further and eventually reached an agreement. The Tang army’s civilian officials present drafted a memorandum, which was signed by the elders from both sides, Li Qing’an, and the vice king of Anguo. Thus, the source of the greatest hatred between Muslims and Zoroastrians was finally resolved, easing the tensions in Bukhara and, by extension, throughout the Transoxiana region.

Li Qing’an immediately ordered 15,000 troops to be sent from Samarkand to reinforce the garrison at the Iron Gate Pass of the Shi State, and another 5,000 troops to support Li Siyeh from Bukhara. At this point, his focus shifted to the Amu Darya River. The Abbasid forces in Khorasan could attack Transoxiana at any time, so he rushed to the Amu Darya overnight.

The Amu Darya, also known as the Wu Hu River, originates in the Pamir Mountains and flows into the Aral Sea. To the east of Khorasan lies an endless desert, known to the locals as the Golden Desert. The Amu Darya flows through this desert and was once the boundary between the Tang Dynasty and the Abbasid Empire. During the Umayyad era, the Abbasids began expanding eastward, crossing the Amu Darya and gradually encroaching on vast regions such as Transoxiana, Bactria, Sindh, and Punjab, severely threatening the interests of the Tang Dynasty. The two sides eventually clashed at Talas.

History had been changed by the arrival of Li Qing’an, a man from a later era. The Abbasids’ defeat at Talas cost them the Fergana Valley and Transoxiana, but Abu Muslim was not willing to give up, nor was the Abbasid caliph. He ordered Abu Muslim to recapture Transoxiana within two years. One and a half years had passed, and Abu Muslim was approaching the deadline.

Pressure and exhaustion had aged Abu Muslim over the past year and a half; half of his hair had turned white, and he had become even thinner. Yet, he still motivated himself to personally train new troops every day. After a year and a half of hard work, he finally trained a formidable army of 40,000 soldiers, all from Khorasan.

Abu Muslim not only trained the army’s combat skills but also studied the advanced weapons of the Tang forces. He found that the Turks’ bows were also extremely powerful. Learning that the Turks’ bowmaking techniques came from Han bowmakers who fled to the steppes during the chaos in the Central Plains over a hundred years earlier, he spent a large sum of money to bring in ten Turkish bowmakers to teach the Khurasanis how to make bows. Although it took two years to craft a decent bow, he had no time to wait and forced the craftsmen to use faster methods. In this way, Abu Muslim gradually built an army of three thousand archers.

Next, he focused on developing incendiary weapons. A craftsman named Rahman invented a tactic involving using large trebuchets to launch giant fireballs. Large trebuchets had long existed in the Abbasid Empire, but the key was the fireball itself—a huge sphere about as tall as a person, hollow inside, filled with naphtha, and covered with cotton cloth soaked in naphtha. It was thrown quickly when ignited, and upon hitting an object, its thin wooden shell would burst, spraying the naphtha inside and setting off a sea of flames.

With these weapons, Abu Muslim gained confidence to confront the Tang forces’ fire-based weapons. He named these incendiary weapons “Angry Abu,” planning to use them as his secret weapon against the Tangs.

By February, Abu Muslim, who had been waiting for an opportunity, finally saw his long-awaited moment. Severe sectarian conflicts broke out in Transoxiana as Shiites were dissatisfied with the Tangs’ favoritism toward Zoroastrians, leading to continuous riots. After the major riots in Bukhara, Abu Muslim took action. He gradually assembled his army in the small town of Chaljuy near the Amu Darya River and sent an envoy named Saif to Samarkand to contact anti-Tang forces.

Abu Muslim was ready to strike, waiting for the final outbreak of rebellion in Transoxiana—when he would cross the river to reclaim it. But he was disappointed. Soon he learned that the Tangs had quelled the riots in Samarkand. Knowing that other regions in Transoxiana followed Samarkand’s example, the suppression of the riots there meant the major uprising he had been waiting for would not happen. At this point, Abu Muslim realized that it was likely his old rival Li Qing’an who had arrived in Transoxiana, as only someone with such high authority as Li Qing’an could quickly suppress the chaos there.

Without the opportunity he had hoped for, Abu Muslim faced a choice: to fight or not to fight?

The Amu Darya flows through the Golden Desert east of Khorasan. At the beginning of March, as the ice and snow melt, the river’s water level soars, and its vast expanse stretches for miles with rapid currents, posing great danger—making it extremely difficult to cross. Generally, there are two ideal locations for crossing: one is around the small town of Chalju, where the river is calm and the bed is narrow; large sheepskin rafts can carry a hundred people at a time, allowing 40,000 Arab troops to cross overnight. The other crossing point is at Damghan in southern Bactria, where the current is strong but the riverbed is very narrow. Until last year, there was a bridge over the river, an ideal spot for merchants to cross. Though the bridge has been destroyed, a floating bridge can still be built using boats. However, crossing there has its drawbacks—after crossing, one finds not a plain but continuous mountains, and access to the historical lands is only possible through the Iron Gate Pass. Thus, capturing the Iron Gate Pass becomes the greatest challenge on the southern route.

At dusk, the setting sun, red like blood, reflected on the rippling waves of the Amu Darya, turning it red as if it were a blood river from hell. On the west bank, Abu Muslim stood on the walls of Chalju City, gazing across the river. On clear days, the golden desert across could be seen shining brightly, stretching endlessly like an ocean of gold. But now, with strong winds and rough waves, he couldn’t see anything. Still, Abu Muslim knew that the Tang troops on the other side must have deployed heavy forces in readiness. If he crossed hastily, his army would surely be ambushed in mid-river, suffering heavy losses.

Abu Muslim suddenly remembered an Eastern story he had heard: a king stationed troops by the river, and when his enemy asked him to retreat three miles to allow them to cross, he, out of kindness, actually retreated three miles, allowing the enemy to cross easily and leading to his own defeat.

A bitter smile appeared on Abu Muslim’s lips. Could Li Qingan do the same?

Perhaps it was some arrangement by the gods of fate, or merely a coincidence. On a small hill on the east bank of the river, Li Qingan was also gazing across. The two of them were in a straight line, but unfortunately, they couldn’t see each other; otherwise, their gazes could have served as a pre-battle handshake.

But Li Qingan could see Chalju City, a small black dot miles away. He also knew that 40,000 elite troops were stationed in Khorasan behind Chalju City. If Abu Muslim wanted to seize control of the river, he would need more than 40,000 troops to succeed.

Li Qing’an was also pondering Abu Muslim’s tactics. He knew his old rival very well. Given how difficult it was for Abu Muslim to train his troops, he would never take the risk of crossing the river lightly. With the river levels now high, he certainly wouldn’t attempt to cross in a dangerous area—although such a move might yield a surprise attack, any mistake could lead to shipwreck and death. Moreover, Abu Muslim should be aware that Li Qing’an would surely send numerous scouts to patrol the east bank. Even if he tried to cross in a dangerous spot, it wouldn’t result in a surprise attack. As a military and political leader, one not only had to be skilled in warfare but also understand political struggles. Li Qing’an knew of the conflict between Abu Muslim and Mansur. Once the Abbasid caliph died and Mansur ascended to the throne, how could Abu Muslim protect himself?

The army! Only the army could prevent Mansur from acting rashly. In this sense, Abu Muslim would value his troops even more. Or perhaps, once the crisis on the river was resolved, he would no longer have the desire to seize control of it.

Li Qing’an’s reasoning was entirely correct. On the city walls, Abu Muslim was indeed considering his next steps after the death of the Abbasid caliph.

For him, although he needed to avenge his past humiliations on the river, Khorasan was the foundation of his power. If he couldn’t even retain Khorasan, what was the point of avenging himself?

Abu Muslim had already received news that the Abbasid caliph’s old injuries had recurred in January, this time more severe than before. The doctors said spring was a critical time for his internal injuries, and it was uncertain whether he could survive it. Abu Muslim had to think about his backup plans. His 40,000 troops were his lifeline. Did he really need to fight desperately against the Tang army? The answer was undoubtedly no, especially when facing the difficulty of crossing the river—he valued his troops even more.

At that moment, General Ziyad stepped forward quickly and bowed. “Governor, did you call for me?”

Abu Muslim stared at this prisoner who had been released by the Tang army. Perhaps his desire to avenge himself was even more urgent now!

“General Ziyad, if I gave you 10,000 troops, could you cross the Amu Darya before dawn the next day?”

“I am certain I can.”

“Good! I’m ready. We’ll cross the river tomorrow night, and I’ll await your good news the day after.”

Abu Muslim turned to look across the river. Anyway, he wanted to give it a try.