Tome of Troubled Times-Chapter 698: Another Battlefield Without Gunpoder

The nighttime view of Xiangyang, seen from above, revealed a vibrant city. The lights burning within the city resembled countless twinkling stars, giving the impression of a bustling prosperity that, at the moment, surpassed even the capital. With the curfews in place, the capital was shrouded in darkness most nights, save for a few sparse lights.

Xiangyang, untouched by the worst of the Maitreya Cult’s rebellion, had largely retained its stability. Although Lu Shiheng’s mismanagement had nearly disrupted the agricultural cycle, timely intervention had set things back on track. Now, Xiangyang stood as a rare haven, one of the most stable places in the land.

The southern part of the city was particularly lively, with clusters of lanterns glowing brightly and the sound of voices rising above the night air. From a distance, it looked like a bustling fair, full of life and joy.

Zhao Changhe, intrigued, urged Snow-Treading Crow forward. Descending near a wooded area, he tied his horse securely and walked toward the fair to investigate.

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Even from a distance, he could hear the laughter of the crowd, with the lilting voices of young women ringing like silver bells in the night. It was a rare scene in such troubled times—something out of place, almost dreamlike. It reminded him of Gusu and Yangzhou before the rebellion, back when Xiaoxiang Pavilion bustled with life and music.

Indeed, this was the Xiaoxiang Pavilion of Xiangyang.

As Zhao Changhe approached, he realized the fair was being held in front of a large temple. The temple itself was grand and imposing, with a plaza that rivaled the size of the one outside the imperial palace. Its scale felt out of place in an era of widespread destruction and famine. Instinctively, his experiences with the Maitreya Cult’s rebellion made him wary of any religious institutions. How had such a massive temple sprung up during such troubled times?

He was pondering whether to ask someone about it when his eyes landed on a familiar face.

A young man sat near a cluster of lanterns, running a food stall. The scent of marinated duck wafted through the air, and the man was busily arguing with a customer.

“Hey, miss! I’m not selling just drumsticks—you have to buy at least half a duck,” he said lazily.

“But I’m just one girl...”

“Miss, if you lay down, you’d flatten me. Don’t call yourself a girl.”

“What kind of shopkeeper talks like this? Is this how you do business?”

“If I sell you just a leg, how am I supposed to sell the rest of the duck? Do you buy ducks with just one leg missing?”

“How can someone like you sell food in front of a temple?”

“I’m just a guy selling duck. Take it or leave it.”

The customer huffed and stormed off, and the man leaned back against a tree, glancing lazily around. It was not clear whether he was watching the women at the fair or scanning for something else.

Suddenly, a large face popped into his view. “Brother Zhou, selling duck now?”

The man, Da Zhou, stared blankly for a moment before his face lit up with joy. “Am I seeing things? How could you just show up here out of nowhere?”

“Shh,” Zhao Changhe hushed him. “There are too many ears here. Let’s find another place to talk.”

Da Zhou immediately grabbed the oilcloth spread out before him, wrapping up all the ducks in one sweep. Slinging the bundle over his shoulder, he said, “Come on, I’ll treat you to a drink.”

From behind them, a disgruntled voice called out, “Hey, where’s the duck seller?”

Da Zhou did not even turn around as he shouted back, “Everything’s been bought, including the seller!”

* * *

“Did the bureau chief already receive our message? That’s strange, we didn’t even mark it as urgent. With how it’s been snowing, the courier might not even have reached the capital yet,” Da Zhou said with a grin as he warmed the wine. He handed a freshly carved duck leg to Zhao Changhe. “In any case, now that you’re here, it feels like we’ve got some stable backbone. I can finally relax a bit.”

Zhao Changhe took the duck leg and bit into it. “And how do you know you aren’t just seeing things?”

“Hah, if an illusion could feel this real, I’d take it,” Da Zhou said. “What kind of dumb ass illusion starts with someone asking me if I’m selling ducks?”

Zhao Changhe choked slightly. “...Hey, I’m technically King Zhao now, a crown prince of sorts. You’re pretty bold with the insults, aren’t you?”

“Ah? Do you enjoy people bowing and showing you proper respect?" Da Zhou looked at him with mock surprise. “I’ve never seen a crown prince riding his own horse across the land, risking his neck in every fight.”

Zhao Changhe clapped his hands and laughed heartily. “Fair enough.”

Pouring hot wine into their cups, Da Zhou smirked. “If I liked climbing the ranks of the court, I wouldn’t have spent my life as an undercover agent for the bureau. The whole point of this job is avoiding those pretentious court officials. Don’t start pulling rank on me now.”

Zhao Changhe asked, “Then why be an agent?”

“To see what’s hidden from the public, to ensure that monsters and demons have nowhere to hide.”

“Great answer.” Zhao Changhe raised his cup and clinked it against Da Zhou’s. “Cheers to that.”

After they downed their drinks, Zhao Changhe asked, “So, what’s going on here? You said you already sent a courier to the capital. That must mean that something of significance has happened here, right? Should I be concerned?”

Da Zhou nodded and replied, “There’s an issue, for sure. But it’s not enough to warrant wartime urgency. I’m not even sure if the bureau chief has received our message yet.”

“She hasn’t. And even if she has, with no urgency marked, it’s probably sitting at the bottom of her pile. She’s drowning in work right now. It’s fine—just tell me directly. What’s the issue?”

“This temple,” Da Zhou began, gesturing vaguely toward the structure. “It didn’t just appear out of nowhere. You’re aware that years ago, Buddhism flourished in the land until the late emperor’s suppression of it caused its decline. The rise of the Maitreya Cult was tied to that historical context.”

“Go on,” Zhao Changhe prompted.

“This temple was built long ago but had fallen into disrepair. However, after the fall of the Maitreya Cult, traditional Buddhism began to show signs of revival. Initially, they were cautious, keeping a low profile. But after the late emperor’s death, they’ve grown bold. They’ve been rapidly restoring temples, receiving an outpouring of donations and resources, and holding public events with large crowds.”

Zhao Changhe frowned. “This all happened in just two months?”

“That’s precisely the issue. In that short time, this temple has been fully repaired, and the flow of funds and devotees is astounding. Just look at tonight’s temple fair, there’s people everywhere.”

“But it’s not a festival or a celebration. Why hold a fair?”

“It is a festival—today is Laba[1], a traditional Buddhist holiday. It used to be barely observed, but now it’s back in full swing.”

“...I see.”

“The new prefectural governor is a devout supporter of this revival. He’s been very accommodating, allowing these activities to flourish. On the surface, it’s fostering peace and prosperity, which is commendable. But we agents of the bureau can’t shake the feeling that anything capable of gathering so many people and uniting their hearts carries potential risks. That’s why we reported it. After all, the current empress hasn’t officially repealed the late emperor’s anti-Buddhist edict. Ignoring it entirely feels... problematic, doesn’t it?”

Zhao Changhe nodded thoughtfully. The instincts of these undercover agents of the Demon Suppression Bureau really are sharp. Most wouldn’t have thought to look into something like this as deeply as he has.

In troubled times like these, people are desperate for something to believe in. Unfortunately, the Four Idols Cult’s teachings aren’t naturally suited to fill that role, at least not yet. Transitioning their doctrine from one of divine rule to one that emphasizes spiritual salvation and transcendence will take a lot of time and effort.

Right now, Buddhism and Daoism hold a natural advantage. Centuries of ingrained cultural familiarity and consistent messaging have ensured their place in people’s hearts. This is also why Daoist leaders like Gui Chen can calmly retire to Mount Tai without concern—Daoism’s foundations are already well-established. The Four Idols Cult simply has no chance of competing with them in this area.

While this would not ordinarily be a problem, the trauma from the rebellion of the Maitreya Cult still lingered. The rebellion made everyone sensitive to any situation involving mass gatherings or fervent group activities. To this day, the fear of another rebellion still looms. It was this very sensitivity that caused agents like Da Zhou to treat the situation as a potential threat and made him send a report about it to the capital.

Da Zhou’s expression grew solemn as he said, “The main concern is truly how quickly they’ve bounced back. It honestly feels orchestrated. For example, the prefectural governor has exempted them from taxes, which encourages farmers to affiliate themselves with the temple and donate their lands. On top of that, becoming a monk exempts people from labor duties, leading to a sharp increase in commoners shaving their heads and joining the order. If this continues unchecked, it’s bound to cause problems eventually.”

Zhao Changhe nodded. This resurgence had slipped into a convenient gap where the court could not afford to intervene. If such practices became widespread, it would be nearly impossible to curb.

Da Zhou muttered, half to himself, “I used to wonder why the late emperor went so hard on suppressing Buddhism. I was too young to understand back then, but looking at this now, give them another decade or two, and even the current empress might feel compelled to do the same.”

Zhao Changhe thought for a moment before asking, “Have there been any incidents of abuse—bullying, coercion, or worse?”

Da Zhou shook his head. “We’ve kept a close watch and haven’t found them doing anything of the sort. There’s no sign of the fraudulent practices that the Maitreya Cult used to employ. Everything’s been aboveboard so far. That said, there has already been one serious public order incident—a fanatic beat someone to death for being disrespectful toward the Buddha. Some of the brothers from the Blood God Cult were furious and nearly turned it into a full-blown brawl. The prefectural governor managed to smooth things over, but it’s clear that tensions between the members of the Blood God Cult and Buddhists are simmering. I don’t think the prefectural governor can keep the peace for long. Your arrival stabilizes things.”

Zhao Changhe turned to look back toward the bustling temple fair in the southern part of the city.

He activated his Qi Observation Technique, faintly perceiving swirling currents of faith gathering above the temple and flowing toward some unknown destination.

Da Zhou’s voice droned on, faint in the background, “Honestly, it’s like a gentler version of the Maitreya cult. Fundamentally, it’s not much different... Of course, the Blood God Cult isn’t much better—just a keg of gunpowder waiting for a spark.”

Zhao Changhe pondered for a long moment before asking, “And the Daoists? Have they said or done anything about this?”

“There’s been some response, but it feels muted—almost as if they’re being deliberately suppressed. Their presence is mostly limited to temples outside the city. The late emperor never targeted Daoism like he did Buddhism, so their influence has always been substantial. They’ve just never been overt about it. It’s hard to tell if that’s simply their nature or if they’re hiding something.”

Zhao Changhe’s brow furrowed as he considered this. “Who’s the abbot of this temple? Why does the prefectural governor trust them so much?”

Da Zhou hesitated, then replied, “That might have something to do with you. The abbot is Master Yuan Cheng, the one you brought along during the campaign against the Maitreya cult. While they haven’t explicitly invoked your name, local officials naturally associate him with your approval.”

Zhao Changhe’s thoughts drifted back to Tang Buqi and the lingering memory of half-drunk tea on a table. A small smile tugged at his lips. “Understood. There’s no need to overthink this here. I’ll head to the temple and have a chat with Master Yuan Cheng myself.”

1. Laba Festival is a traditional Chinese holiday celebrated on the eighth day of the month of La, the twelfth month of the Chinese calendar. It is the beginning of the Chinese New Year period. ☜