Chapter Forty-One: The Three Major Weaknesses of the Tibetans
“I dare not accept the honor of your guidance. It is just that I have a habit of pondering aimlessly, and thus have come to some slight insights. Let us first discuss the three major weaknesses of the Tibetans:
For thousands of years, the Tibetans have remained in a state of division. They possessed tribes, but not a nation; neither unified institutions, laws, nor a written script. Not until the era of Songtsen Gampo did they, by force, unite the tribes, gradually forging the concept of a state.
Songtsen Gampo died young, and the generations of Great Kings after him sought to imitate the regulations and systems of the Central Plains dynasties, strengthening central authority and thereby national power. Alas, these efforts clashed with the interests of the great nobles and lords, inciting their fierce opposition, which sparked repeated coups and rebellions, leaving rivers of blood in their wake.
Several Great Kings perished tragically in such upheavals, leading to succession struggles that plunged the tribes into conflict, with countless casualties... Internal division, discord among the elite, and the absence of centralized power—this is Tibet’s first weakness.
…
Originally, Tibetans followed Bon, a most primitive religion. Then, Princess Wencheng arrived by marriage, bringing Buddhism, which quickly spread throughout Tibet.
It is said that two tigers cannot share one mountain. Bon and Buddhism, vying for followers, erupted into fierce conflict, triggering ideological chaos and confusion in spiritual governance. Adherents of each faith regarded the other as mortal enemies, often clashing violently on a grand scale… Religious strife and intellectual turmoil—that is Tibet’s second weakness!
…
Tibet dominates the southwest, with formidable armies and strong horses. Surrounding states—Tuqu, Tangut, Nanzhao, the various Bolü, and India—are compelled to submit and pay tribute yearly. Yet the exploitation by Tibet is severe. Take Nanzhao, for example: sixty percent of its tax income must be handed over to the Tibetans, not to mention countless other tributes.
Such heavy burdens breed resentment and alienation among the vassal states; rebellion is inevitable. This is Tibet’s third weakness.”
Li Zhao took a couple of sips of wine to moisten his throat, and continued his discourse with ease.
“Now that we know Tibet’s weaknesses, the next step is to exploit them. The methods again fall into three categories:
First, dispatch eloquent envoys, promising both threats and bribes, to sow discord among the great lords and between the lords and the Great King, plunging them into internal chaos. If war breaks out, so much the better.
Second, let the court confer titles upon several Living Buddhas and Dharma Kings, strengthening the influence of Buddhism in the southwest and intensifying the conflict with Bon. The more tumultuous, the better. Moreover, Buddhism, with its compassion, can ease the anger in Tibetan hearts. Building temples is worth more than a thousand soldiers!
Third, have the court send envoys to connect with the tribes of Tuqu, Tangut, and Nanzhao, persuading them to break from Tibet and align themselves with the Tang empire.
Thus, with internal strife and vassals defecting, Tibet will not have the strength to invade Tang in the short term. But this is only a temporary measure; to truly rid ourselves of this great enemy, sooner or later, a war of epic proportions will be required!”
…
After this lofty discussion, Li Zhao cautioned Cui Zongzhi that his prediction of a Tibetan invasion was mere speculation, not absolute certainty, and must not be spread, lest unnecessary trouble arise.
One must remember that the affairs of the world are ever-changing—a single snowstorm, earthquake, or the death of an important figure may alter the course of events. This is what is called the inscrutability of fate!
Cui Zongzhi nodded in agreement, but harbored other intentions, planning to secretly write a memorial and send it by fast horse to Chang’an, urging the emperor to strengthen the defense of the Hexi Corridor against Tibetan intrusion.
He would then observe the situation and adapt accordingly!
If Tibet did not invade, so much the better.
If Tibet truly showed signs of aggression, he would present his three clever strategies to the court and repel the enemy at the border!
With his worries resolved, Cui Zongzhi’s spirits revived. He continued drinking with Li Zhao, conversing about all manner of things, until the talk drifted to the little Yaksha!
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Little Yaksha was now more than three months old, robust and clever, lively and energetic, and its favorite pastime was venturing out to brawl with other puppies!
Near Hidden Dragon Hill, pups of the same age had all been cowed by it; even those a month or two older could not match its prowess.
A future king among dogs, rising like the morning sun!
The first time Cui Zongzhi saw Little Yaksha, he knew it was no ordinary beast. Were it not Li Zhao’s beloved treasure, he would have asked for it already.
Since he could not obtain it, he settled for second best, constantly inquiring about Yaksha’s origins, hoping to acquire a similar puppy. If he brought such a dog to Chang’an, it would surely make the noble youths green with envy.
Little Yaksha was of the White Spirit Dog lineage—a matter of great significance—so Li Zhao dared not tell the truth, claiming instead that he had found it by chance in a mountain cave while gathering herbs.
Cui Zongzhi believed him, clamoring daily to enter the mountains in hopes of finding a puppy himself. Li Zhao, worn down by his persistence, finally agreed; since he had leisure, he would accompany him for a mountain outing. They would surely not find any puppies, but could enjoy the scenery and a meal of wild game.
After brief preparations, they chose a bright, sunny day and set out.
…
Ten miles southwest of Hidden Dragon Hill rose a mountain peak, steep and towering, thrusting into the clouds like a giant sword. Thus it was named Heavenly Sword Peak.
On the northern slope of Heavenly Sword Peak, four figures moved slowly. At the head was Li Zhao, wielding a sharp machete to hack through the brambles, opening a path for the group and maintaining a high level of vigilance: first against wild beasts, second against assassins—the latter being the greater threat.
With the success of Erguotou, vast riches had been amassed, and Li De and Zheng, that treacherous pair, would surely be driven mad with envy and plot his demise… Li Zhao had long anticipated this.
Therefore, for this mountain excursion, he brought all his weapons.
The military dagger was tucked in the right boot, ready to draw at a moment’s notice.
The three-edged throwing darts hung from a small leather belt. After months of practice, his skill was considerable… Within fifty paces, he never missed his mark.
On his back was a hunting bow, with a draw weight of a hundred and twenty pounds, and twelve sharp steel arrows.
Li Zhao also carried a large pouch of quicklime in his chest; thrown at a critical moment, it could blind an enemy.
…
With these items, Li Zhao could slay wild beasts such as wolves or leopards on the spot; as for criminals like the Four Tigers of Guanzhong, a dozen or so would pose no threat.
Cui Zongzhi was second in line, constantly searching the nearby grass for canine tracks, eager to examine any he found. Clearly, the young Duke was still intent on finding a puppy… but their journey yielded nothing.
Jin Bao’er and White Mantou followed, the latter carrying a bamboo basket filled with seasonings and picnic supplies.
“Aw—aw!”
Little Yaksha accompanied them, running circles around the group, sniffing the wildflowers and grass, occasionally letting out youthful howls, clearly delighted!
For it, venturing into the mountains was like returning home.
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“I can’t go on, I’m exhausted. Jade Lad, how much farther until we reach the summit?”
“Hold on a bit longer. At our current pace, we should reach the peak in about half an hour.”
“Jade Lad, have you ever been to the summit?”
“No. I’ve come here a few times before, but only to gather herbs at the foot. Yet the elders in the village say the scenery atop Heavenly Sword Peak is breathtaking. If you don’t go up and see, you’ll regret it for life.”
Heavenly Sword Peak was exceedingly steep, the climb growing ever harder. Fortunately, Li Zhao had a set of climbing gear, which spared the group considerable effort.
During the ascent, Li Zhao looked up and saw that the summit was covered with trees, mostly wild jujube. It was golden autumn, the fruit nearly ripe, painting the mountain in brilliant red and attracting countless birds.
High in the treetops, a small black figure darted back and forth, vaguely resembling a human silhouette, then vanished. Who could possess such skill? Was his vision playing tricks—perhaps it was only a monkey?
No matter, onward with the climb.
Half an hour later, the four finally reached the summit. Looking down from above, the view was indeed intoxicating:
To the north, the Guanzhong Plain—rivers crisscrossing fertile land, hailed as the backbone of the world. Whoever controls Guanzhong controls the realm!
To the south, the mighty Qin Mountains—a thousand ridges, sheer cliffs and steep walls, rugged beyond compare. They form one of the natural boundaries dividing north and south China.
As he gazed, Cui Zongzhi noticed a winding ancient plank road in the southeastern mountains, twisting and connecting north to south. “Jade Lad, what is that old road?”
“The Ziwu Road!”
“What, Ziwu Road?” Cui Zongzhi was astonished. It was said that the roads to Shu were harder to ascend than blue heaven… the difficulty lies in the Qin Mountains.
The Qin Mountains, stretching hundreds of miles east to west, form a natural barrier between the Guanzhong Plain and the Sichuan Basin, severely impeding travel.
To facilitate passage, since the late Warring States period, the people had constructed plank roads—six in all: Chencang Road, Baoxie Road, Luogu Road, Wuguan Road, Yugu Road… and Ziwu Road.
Ziwu Road runs six hundred and sixty li. Its northern entrance, called Zi, lies a hundred li south of Chang’an; its southern entrance, called Wu, is a hundred and sixty li east of Yang County in Hanzhong Prefecture.
Of the six plank roads, Ziwu Road is the most treacherous; hence the saying: ‘Of the six routes through Qin Mountains, Ziwu is king.’
Yet what truly made Ziwu Road renowned was not its peril, but a brilliant military strategy!