Chapter 493: The Gathering of Hidden Dragons

The Uyghurs launched a mere raid-like attack, largely out of revenge, with no expectation of reaching Suiye. As the first snow fell in Anxi, the Uyghur cavalry, who had slaughtered the Göktürks, began to think of returning home.
But it was easy to come, but hard to go. The Tang army had already surrounded them from three directions. To the south were 20,000 elite Tang troops from Suiye, who held key cities like Yili, and with the support of the allied forces of the Three Hu, they advanced northward. At Gongyue City, 20,000 Tongluo troops and 10,000 Shatuo troops blocked the Uyghurs’ path eastward toward Beiting. To the north, at Jinshan, were 30,000 Göktürk troops driven by fierce hatred—the Uyghurs had killed their parents and sisters, and they came back determined to fight to the death.
The Uyghurs ultimately chose to fight the Göktürks in a decisive battle, aiming to eradicate them completely and prevent future revenge. It was a battle where the Uyghurs risked everything. According to the customs of the steppe peoples, the Tongluo and Shatuo troops did not participate, allowing the Göktürks to settle their feud on their own. The Tang army also stopped a hundred miles away. Li Qing’an issued a secret order: no interference in the tribal war.
It was a battle of revenge and retaliation, with equal forces on both sides. After two days of fierce fighting, the steppe was covered in corpses. It was a battle of no surrender—the Göktürks vowed to kill every Uyghur at any cost, while the Uyghurs were trapped and unable to escape. After losing nearly 70% of their forces, the Uyghurs finally collapsed. The last 5,000 survivors fled across the steppe, but the Göktürks, now down to 8,000, pursued them relentlessly. They continued to chase and fight, traveling thousands of miles, exhausting countless horses. In the end, fewer than 2,000 Uyghurs escaped, while the Göktürks were left with only 5,000 exhausted soldiers.
The Uyghurs’ southern invasion resulted in the destruction of an entire nation. After the last 5,000 Göktürks returned, Li Qing’an dispersed them and incorporated them into the Tang army. He also incorporated the Göktürk steppe into Suiye Prefecture, establishing Xuanchi County there. From then on, the Jinshan Göktürks disappeared from the history of the Middle Tang Dynasty.
……

By early November, the second heavy snowstorm swept across Anxi once again, marking the arrival of a true winter. Warfare in Anxi ceased as well, entering a period of rest. At this time, the local militia recruitment efforts in Anxi became active, with recruitment notices posted everywhere in various provinces and counties. Anxi did not adopt the conscription system used in the interior regions but instead a military household system, under which every family had the obligation to provide soldiers. According to the rules, each family had to supply one soldier, while their parents, spouses, and children were exempt from taxes. During the busy farming season, local officials would also organize manpower and draft animals to provide support.

However, this military household system was only applied to the Han people. This time, the Anxi military governor’s office issued an order to expand recruitment to the entire region of Anxi, including all ethnic groups. Naturally, their parents, spouses, and children could also enjoy the same benefits as Han military households.

Anxi’s officials estimated that through this recruitment method, at least 100,000 additional soldiers could be assembled in just one winter. Meanwhile, more than twenty armory workshops located in Suiye and Shiguo also became busy, crafting weapons and firearms. Additionally, every family in Anxi received tasks for winter—provided with raw materials by the government, they were required to sew one sleeping bag and make three pairs of thick-soled military boots.

The imperial court also offered strong support for Anxi’s preparations. At the beginning of November, 100,000 sets of Mingguang armor, 200,000 swords, and 100,000 bows and crossbows were transported from Chang’an. The caravan arrived in Beiting, significantly strengthening the strength of the Tang army in Anxi.

While preparations in Suiye were in full swing, Li Qing’an’s attention quietly shifted elsewhere. He only needed to set the general direction for preparations; the specific implementation would be handled by his subordinates. He was more concerned about matters in Chang’an.

The carriage raced down the streets of Suiye City. Sitting inside, Li Qing’an calmly observed the bustling market. It was already early November, and the New Year was just two months away. The streets of Suiye were no different from those in the heartland of Guanzhong—everywhere there were carriages from various places coming to Suiye to purchase New Year’s goods. Many of these were groups of Han families making purchases together. They mostly came from various Han settlements. Although these settlements had no shortage of food, they lacked the variety of daily necessities and jewelry found in Suiye.

On the snow-covered streets, long queues formed in front of several recruitment stations. A few Muslim merchants leading long camel caravans were asking passersby questions. The camels carried thick bundles of cotton and blankets—goods that were in high demand both by the military and the civilian population.

Li Qing’an also felt a sense of emotion. After this battle between the Tang and Tubo, he feared he would have few more chances to return to Anxi. How to strengthen the connection between the interior and Anxi was the top priority on his mind these days. Indeed, he had already established a comprehensive pigeon messaging system, setting up over twenty pigeon relay stations along the route from Chang’an to Suiye, along with more than fifty post stations, ensuring that pigeon messages could reach Suiye in fifteen days while horseback messages took fifty days.

However, the limited content of pigeon messages was a troublesome issue. Just two months earlier, a clever manager of the pigeon post stations invented a “pigeon language” using Turkic letters, with each letter representing a common phrase. As long as both sides had the same decoding book, a large amount of information could be conveyed on a small piece of silk paper.

This was the precursor to later codes. The military took notice of this method and began studying it. Perhaps in the future, scouts sending messages would no longer fear interception by the enemy, greatly enhancing the confidentiality of intelligence. For this reason, Li Qing’an ordered that the inventor of the “pigeon language” be generously rewarded and transferred to the Anxi military headquarters.

But this was still not enough. Delivering supplies remained difficult; it took fifty days to two months to transport supplies from Chang’an to Anxi, with transportation alone consuming a great deal of manpower and resources. To strengthen communication between the two regions, building the Tang Direct Road became a top priority. To speed up construction, Li Qing’an ordered the military to use the 25,000 Tubo prisoners captured in the battle of Qiemo City to work on the road construction. He hoped to complete this arduous project by next year.

The Anxi government had repeatedly calculated that if the Tang Direct Road were used, riding from Longyou to Yizhou in Anxi could take as little as fifteen days. With the construction of numerous relay warehouses and post stations in Huizhou, Ganzhou, and Yizhou, it would undoubtedly greatly strengthen the supply and communication links between Anxi and the Central Plains—a promising prospect.

Only by resolving the transportation issues between Anxi and the interior could he truly pursue a strategic shift eastward.

As Li Qing’an was deep in thought, a commotion came from a recruitment station on the street. “What’s wrong with me? I may be thin, but I’m already eighteen. I’m not lying to you.”

“Young man, you’re clearly still a child! We have rules—we don’t recruit those under sixteen.”

“I can read and write; I can work in an administrative role. Please, I’ve come all the way from Chang’an just to make achievements in Anxi. Please take me on!”

Li Qing’an found the boy’s voice somewhat familiar and immediately ordered, “Stop the carriage!”
The carriage came to a halt. Seeing a crowd gathered at the conscription site, Li Qing’an said to one of his bodyguards, “Go and see what’s going on.”
A few bodyguards rode swiftly over. The onlookers stepped aside as the bodyguards shouted, “What’s the matter here, as asked by the General?”
The officer in charge of conscription pointed at a boy who looked like a beggar and said with a bow, “This boy wants to join the army. I saw he seems to be under sixteen, so I refused him.”
At that moment, the boy timidly glanced at Li Qing’an’s carriage, then turned and ran. A few conscription soldiers caught him.
“Let me go! I don’t want to join the army!” the boy struggled desperately.
The bodyguards glanced at him, noticing panic in his eyes, and grew suspicious. They waved their hands and said, “Take him away! The General wants to question him.”
The officer then brought the boy to Li Qing’an’s carriage. The boy turned his head away, refusing to make eye contact.
By then, Li Qing’an had recognized the boy who resembled a beggar. His extremely ugly face was his hallmark. This boy was actually Lu Qi, the son of Lu Yi, the Imperial Censor. Li Qing’an had met him once at Lu’s residence a few months ago and encouraged him to go to Anxi. He never expected him to actually come to Anxi, and even to Suiye. It seemed he had run away from home.
Li Qing’an felt a bit impressed by the boy’s determination, though he didn’t show it. His expression darkened as he snapped, “Lu Qi, do you acknowledge your crime?”
It was indeed Lu Qi. Inspired by Li Qing’an’s words that day, he had made up his mind. After being rejected several times by his father, he left a letter, took a few dozen silver coins, and set off alone for Anxi on a thin donkey.
After several months of wandering, his money was gone, and his donkey had been sold. He worked as an apprentice for a Muslim merchant and arrived in Suiye. The merchant, unwilling to take him further west, gave him some money and parted ways with him. Lu Qi wanted to find Li Qing’an but didn’t dare, so he stayed in Suiye for over twenty days until he encountered the conscription drive and decided to join the army.
Frightened, Lu Qi obediently stepped forward and bowed, “I greet my uncle!”
“I ask you, do your father and uncle know you’re in Anxi?”
“No!” Lu Qi lowered his head timidly.
“You’re lucky to still be alive. Otherwise, your crime of unfilial piety would be confirmed.”

Though he admired him, Li Qing’an was also annoyed by the boy’s recklessness. If Lu Qi died in Anxi, he would incur a feud with the Lu family. Fortunately, fate had brought him across this boy.
Lu Qi moved his lips and suddenly mustered up the courage to say, “General, I want to join the army. I know I’m not good at fighting, but I can work in administrative roles, copying documents and such.”
Li Qing’an shook his head and said, “The Anxi army does not allow youths under sixteen to enlist. It’s an unbreakable rule, whether for administrative or military positions. As the ruler of Anxi, I certainly can’t set a bad example by breaking it. You’re only twelve years old—four years short. Even if you have great ambitions, it’s not possible yet. Go back to Chang’an and study military books for a few more years. When you turn sixteen, I’ll allow you to join the army in Longyou. For now, write a letter to your father to apologize. Do you understand?”
Lu Qi lowered his head in disappointment, knowing he had no hope. Li Qing’an waved his hand and said to two of his guards, “Take him to my residence and hand him over to the third madam. Tell her it’s my nephew and ask her to arrange his food and lodging properly.”
The guards nodded, provided a horse, lifted Lu Qi onto it, and took him away. Still worried, Li Qing’an instructed another guard, “Keep an eye on him day and night to prevent him from escaping again.”
The guard nodded and followed from a distance. Lu Qi’s willfulness gave Li Qing’an a headache. It seemed he would have to write a letter himself to explain the situation to the Lu brothers.
Shaking his head, he said, “Let’s keep going!”
The carriage moved forward, passing through several streets before stopping in front of a large mansion. Luo Pinfang and about a dozen others were already waiting at the entrance. Upon seeing Li Qing’an arrive, they stepped forward to greet him.
This mansion was once the headquarters of the Hidden Dragon Society. The memorial tablet of Prince Li Jiancheng, the Hidden Prince, was inside. Since the Han-Tang Society was officially reorganized into the Anxi Internal Affairs Department by Li Qing’an the year before last, the Han-Tang Society disappeared, but its core, the Hidden Dragon Society, still existed.
Li Qing’an remained its leader, with twenty members representing Jiancheng’s eighteen generals. However, many of these twenty members held positions in the Internal Affairs Department, either themselves or their family members.
The older members focused on their own family businesses. For example, Luo Pinfang, along with Chang Jin, was a vice-leader of the Hidden Dragon Society. But Chang Jin became the head of the Anxi Internal Affairs Department, while Luo Pinfang, being older, did not enter politics. Instead, his eldest son, Luo Qiming, served as the chief secretary of the Hezhong Grand Commandery. Luo Pinfang himself, along with his second son, engaged in trade between Anxi and Byzantium, founding the Luo Family Trading Company, one of the three largest private trading companies in Anxi.

Although Luo Pinfang and the others had turned their attention to trade, they never dared forget the purpose and century-long goals of the Hidden Dragon Society. Over the years, Li Qingan’s growing strength had indeed brought them comfort, but his elevation to King of Zhao was what truly filled them with joy—it meant the Li Tang royal family officially recognized the existence of the descendants of Jiancheng. This was also the first goal the Hidden Dragon Society had strived to achieve in a century: at least having the imperial court acknowledge the descendants of the Hidden Crown Prince.

Luo Pinfang stepped forward, bowed, and said with a smile, “Everyone in Anxi is busy preparing for war. How did Your Highness find time to come here?”

At least in name, Luo Pinfang was Li Qingan’s grandfather, so his tone when speaking to Li Qingan was slightly different from others, more casual.

Li Qingan smiled and said, “What day is it today? Do you think I’ve forgotten?”

It was November 11th. Exactly 128 years ago, on this day, Jiancheng’s eighteen generals protected Princess Chang and Jiancheng’s posthumous son as they traveled thousands of miles to Suiye. This day had become one of the two most important anniversaries for the Hidden Dragon Society—the other being the Xuanwu Gate Incident on June 4th.

The twelve members of the Hidden Dragon Society still in Suiye gathered in the ancestral hall today. They had originally intended to inform Li Qingan, but with the intense military preparations in Suiye and no other urgent matters, they decided, at Luo Pinfang’s suggestion, to hold a small gathering without notifying him.

Hearing that Li Qingan still remembered this day, everyone exchanged glances, their eyes filled with emotion. Luo Pinfang bowed and said, “Actually, we commemorate it every year, but there’s nothing special about it. With Your Highness so busy with state affairs, you don’t need to come.”

“If I’m already in Suiye, how can I not attend?”

Seeing everyone standing at the door, Li Qingan smiled and said, “Let’s all go in! Today is an important day for the Hidden Dragon Society. We’ll hold the ceremony as tradition dictates.”

The group entered through the main gate, followed by Li Qingan’s dozens of trusted bodyguards. The dark gate slowly closed behind them.

Inside was the ancestral hall. Everyone changed into black robes with silver trim, wore tall hats, and held a jade plaque in each hand, inscribed with the names of their ancestors. They lined up in two rows, with solemn expressions, following behind Li Qingan.

Li Qingan, dressed in a black robe with gold trim and a tall hat, his long robe trailing on the ground, walked toward the ancestral hall’s door in a dramatic, deliberate pace, leading the twelve members of the Hidden Dragon Society step by step.

The main door of the ancestral hall was open, with smoke curling up from the bronze incense burner. On the table behind it lay Li Jiancheng’s spirit tablet, inscribed with: “Spirit of the Crown Prince Jiancheng, the legitimate heir of the Great Tang Emperor.” Behind it stood a long row of spirit tablets—those of Crown Princess Chang, Li Chengsi, the first leader of the Hidden Dragon Society, and the eighteen generals.

Next to the bronze incense burner stood an elderly man named Chang Ji, Chang Jin’s grandfather and the only surviving elder from the second generation of the Hidden Dragon Society. Nearly ninety years old, with white hair and deep wrinkles telling the story of his long life, he stood there trembling, his back hunched as if a breeze might knock him over. Yet he wore a robe with silver trim and held a jade tablet, his expression solemn and dignified. Tears glistened in his weathered eyes as he watched Li Qingan stride forward with confidence. It seemed to him as if he were seeing, over a hundred years ago, the eighteen generals surrounding the young first leader, Li Chengsi, as they held a similar ceremony here.

More than a hundred years had passed, and the ancestors had long turned to dust, but their spirit and beliefs endured. Their dreams were gradually coming to fruition.

Chang Ji quietly wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes, picked up a small bronze mallet, and tapped the bronze bell gently. With a hoarse voice, he said, “Light the incense! Bow in reverence…”

Li Qingan took three long incense sticks from Chang Jin, bowed several times, and inserted them into the bronze burner. Then, along with the twelve members of the Hidden Dragon Society, he knelt on the white jade steps. They bowed three times in reverence before the spirit tablets. At that moment, Li Qingan truly saw himself as a descendant of Li Jiancheng. He murmured, “Ancestors above, your fourth-generation descendant, Qingan, swears here that one day I will carry your spirit tablets and retrace my steps to Xuanwu Gate!”

……

After the ceremony, the door to the back courtyard of the ancestral hall slowly closed. Everyone changed back into their ordinary clothes and gathered in the guest hall, sitting in two rows. Li Qingan sat in the main seat, placing the dragon-and-phoenix pendants on the table. His bodyguards served tea to everyone.

It resembled a tea party, but it was actually part of the ceremony, called “Accountability.” As the name suggested, it involved reflecting on the past year, including questions from the members to the leader and the leader’s questions to each individual. “What have you done this year? What do you plan to do next year? We’ve wasted another year—what will we say to the ancestors?”

When Li Dang was the leader of the association, what he feared most was this ritual. He would often come up with various excuses to avoid it, such as faking fainting or crying bitterly when questioned, swearing solemnly. Since everyone knew he was a spoiled young man, they didn’t press him further.

But ever since Li Qing’an took over as the leader, this form of accountability had changed. The key issue was that Li Qing’an was too domineering; no one dared confront him directly, so they simply elected a representative to ask a few symbolic questions.

Everyone’s gaze turned to Chang Jin, who was the representative for accountability today. His head swam—he had his grandfather present too! How could he ask questions?

At that moment, Chang Ji said, “Let me take care of today’s accountability!”

He stood up shakily, knelt before Li Qing’an, and slowly said, “Your subordinate dares to ask the leader: How much control does one have over the world?”

Li Qing’an bowed and replied, “To answer your question, one only has control over three parts of the world.”

“And where are the other seven parts?”

“Three belong to the ruler of Chengdu, three to the various lords and royal families, and the remaining one lies in the hearts of the people.”

“When will the people’s hearts be won over?”

“When the Hidden Dragon emerges no longer in hiding, the people’s hearts will naturally turn to him.”

Chang Ji laughed, like a child, “The leader speaks well. Indeed, when the Hidden Dragon emerges no longer in hiding, the people’s hearts will turn to him.”

He then said to everyone, “Since the leader ascended to power, he has been very lenient with us, never questioning us. But the emergence of the Hidden Dragon is not just the leader’s responsibility. We of the Hidden Dragon Association have an undeniable duty. I suggest that we officially relocate to Chang’an. Twenty members of the Hidden Dragon Association should abandon their worldly affairs and use all our resources to ensure that the Hidden Dragon emerges no longer in hiding, doing our utmost effort.”

……

In the Nanming Palace in Chengdu, Li Longji had been ill for almost a month. Since autumn, Chengdu had been plagued by continuous rain, with little sunlight, and the air was extremely humid. Li Longji couldn’t adapt to such weather, and combined with his weak health, he fell ill.

After falling ill, he had no interest in governing affairs and left everything in the hands of Yang Guozhong, Chen Xilié, and Cui Yuan. He knew these three were constantly fighting among themselves, but he had no choice but to let them handle things.

Inside the palace bedroom, another scream from a palace maid could be heard. Several eunuchs hid nearby, terrified. They knew another maid had angered the emperor and been beaten. The emperor was even more difficult to please now; the slightest delay in action led to severe punishment, and many people had already been beaten to death.

In the bedroom, Li Longji lay on his side on the bed. His back was hunched, making it difficult for him to lie comfortably. Combined with his illness, this made him extremely irritable, so he took his anger out on the palace servants.

At this moment, Li Longji felt that his end was near. The decline of his bodily organs made him believe he would not live much longer. He began to miss his concubine and longed to see her one last time before leaving this world. He could not see the living, but he did not want to see the dead either. These days, Li Longji kept having terrifying dreams in which his sons, whom he had killed, came to him, bloody and wounded. His ancestors—Emperors Zhongzong, Gaozong, Taizong, and Gaozu—also came in turn to question him why he had divided the Tang Dynasty. He would wake up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep, staring at the ceiling until dawn. Li Longji grew increasingly fearful. How could he face his ancestors? How could he explain himself to them? Could he say it was all the fault of Prince Jiancheng? An urgent question lay before Li Longji: whom should he appoint as his successor? He had pondered this for a long time. Princes Mao of Jing and Lin of Wu still refused to see him, leaving him utterly disappointed in them. He was considering which son could reunify the Tang Dynasty. He knew that Sixteenth Prince and Eighteenth Prince did not have the ability, so he would not consider them. In fact, the answer was already clear—a son whose character and tactics were very similar to his own. By passing the throne to this son, he could hope to reunify the Tang Dynasty. “Help me sit up. I need to write a letter!”