Chapter 4: The Dagger Revealed—How Ruthless the Emperor Is

A banquet was held in a side hall of the palace, with the courtiers entertaining Zhang Zhengchang. The Emperor was in high spirits and spoke warmly, reminiscing about old times—how, back when he was still King of Wu, he had been awed by the power and influence of the Zhang family.

He went on to recall the plague years, how the people of Dragon-Tiger Mountain had rushed to fight the pestilence, solving his troubles, and further spoke of the time when those words, “Heaven’s Mandate has its appointed heir,” had saved Zhu Yuanzhang much effort in winning popular support, lending greater legitimacy to his cause.

Zhang Zhengchang, feigning humility, grew ever more delighted as he listened. After several rounds of wine, host and guest were equally pleased, and everything seemed to be unfolding just as Zhang Zhengchang had hoped.

Then, as the Emperor grew slightly tipsy, he suddenly asked, “Master Zhang, your service to our Great Ming is great, and I shall reward you handsomely! By the way, what title did your esteemed ancestor receive from the previous dynasty?”

On hearing this, Zhang Zhengchang quickly rose to his feet, carefully selecting his words. “Since the thirty-sixth generation Celestial Master, whose courtesy name was Zongyan, our title has been inherited as ‘Successor of the Han Celestial Master’.”

The Emperor’s expression did not change, but the atmosphere in the hall grew noticeably heavier. After a moment, he chuckled.

“Those Mongol barbarians, so lacking in culture. Master Zhang, let me ask you: Does Heaven have a master?”

The Emperor’s offhand question struck Zhang Zhengchang with the force of thunder. His pupils dilated, then contracted violently. Instinctively, he looked up in terror at the Emperor. Though the Emperor’s gaze seemed blurred with drunkenness, for a fleeting moment Zhang Zhengchang felt he saw through to the man’s heart.

Zhu Yuanzhang, seemingly inebriated, had eyes as cold as the abyss.

Sweating profusely, Zhang Zhengchang lowered his head and forced himself to regain composure. With a bitter voice, he replied, “No, it does not.”

“That’s right. Even Confucius, the eternal model of all teachers, was but a teacher of men. Among mortals, none surpass the Son of Heaven; among the four corners of the world, nothing is higher than Heaven itself. What is a Celestial Master, that he should be above Heaven itself? If I were to follow the old dynasty’s custom, would I, the Emperor, have to call you teacher?”

Upon hearing this, Zhang Zhengchang immediately fell to his knees, bowing three times and kowtowing nine times to the Emperor. “I dare not!”

Even now, he could remember when Zhu Yuanzhang—then only the King of Wu—had spoken with reverence before him of the Celestial Master’s office. That essay, “I have heard that the Han Ancestor’s Celestial Master possessed virtue and wisdom, communing with spirits and gods, so that with a single breath or sigh, the will of Heaven grew dark or clear, and the thunder gods…” Just days ago, Zhang Zhengchang had recited these very words before the assembly on Dragon-Tiger Mountain for Zhang Yi to hear. Now, recalling them, they felt like bitter irony.

Does Heaven have a master? To flourish is to decay.

He thought of the seemingly childish, yet unsettling words spoken by Zhang Yi, but dared not dwell further.

He no longer cared to press the Emperor for favors; he felt that merely leaving the palace alive today would be a blessing. “A king is as fierce as a tiger”—only now did old Zhang truly grasp the meaning of these words.

The Son of Heaven’s lips curled with a smile as he played with the cup in his hand, appearing greatly satisfied by Zhang Zhengchang’s response. “Master Zhang, what is the matter? Come, rise. I will do you no harm—it was but a jest!”

Old Zhu stood up and went over to help Zhang Zhengchang to his feet. “Let us do this: abandon the title of Celestial Master; Master Zhang, listen to your new appointment!”

Old Zhang tried to stand, but his knees had scarcely straightened before he knelt again.

“I appoint you as the Orthodox Successor and True Man of the Teaching, grant you a silver seal, with rank equivalent to the second grade.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, thank you, Your Majesty!”

Zhang Zhengchang swallowed his bitterness, spirit shattered, yet he knew he must kneel and prostrate himself to express gratitude for the imperial favor.

The Emperor had both chastened and rewarded him. Zhang Zhengchang realized that his journey to the capital had become nothing but a farce.

But so be it—if he could return alive, that would be fortune enough. His only thought now was to leave the palace at once, find Zhang Yi, and ask where he had heard that fatal question: “Does Heaven have a master?”

Fate, however, seemed intent on mocking him. The Emperor was evidently not finished with Dragon-Tiger Mountain.

After conferring the new title, the Emperor spoke again, “Dragon-Tiger Mountain is a land of immortals, or so the legends say. Every generation of Celestial Masters possesses great power; your talents are impressive, but your descendants are also exceptional!”

The Emperor’s words were casual, but his meaning was clear. “For instance, your second son—so I hear, he predicted today’s events?”

At this, old Zhang was so terrified his soul nearly fled his body. He inwardly cursed Zhang Yi and his ancestors, but realizing such thoughts were inappropriate, he hurriedly knelt.

“Your Majesty, he is but a child, and his words are idle nonsense—nothing to be taken seriously!”

Only now did Zhang Zhengchang truly grasp the terror of the Son of Heaven. Rumor had it Zhu Yuanzhang commanded a secret organization, the Inspectorate, to monitor officials and gather intelligence—the Emperor’s eyes and ears everywhere.

Yet he had never imagined that, even hundreds of miles away on Dragon-Tiger Mountain, the Emperor had his agents. Even a casual conversation between father and son there had reached the imperial ear.

Fear gripped Zhang Zhengchang more than ever before. He recalled his ill-omened son’s words about prosperity breeding decline. But what truly terrified him was realizing that the Emperor’s gaze had never left the Zhang family.

Was this a warning, or the prelude to retribution?

Zhang Zhengchang, anxious and disturbed, no longer cared for any rewards from the Emperor—he only wished to be spared and allowed to depart.

“Your Majesty, you mustn’t heed the nonsense of that little devil in my household. His words are not to be believed, not to be believed…”

He once again fell to his knees, kowtowing and begging for mercy.

But the Emperor laughed. “What devil, what ill-starred child? I think the Zhang family has brought forth a little immortal! Why did you not bring him today? I wish to see him!”

“If Your Majesty wishes to see my rebellious son, this humble subject will fetch him at once!”

Fear had so overtaken Zhang Zhengchang that he called himself a “humble subject”—a term usually reserved for commoners. Old Zhu, pleased by this display of deference, then uttered something that unsettled him even more: “No need. I would like to hear what this little immortal thinks of me. If you bring him here, he might be constrained. I shall accompany you to see him instead!”

“You want to come with me… Heaven has doomed the Zhang family!”

Zhang Zhengchang remembered Zhang Yi’s assessment of the Emperor and felt pain in every fiber of his being. How could he not know his ill-starred son’s character? The boy’s tongue knew no restraint—should he say or do something inauspicious, the thousands of disciples on Dragon-Tiger Mountain would all be in mortal peril.

Ill-starred indeed—this boy was the calamity of the Zhang family, without a doubt.

He vaguely recalled that Zhang Yi had once said on the mountain that the Emperor was not a good man. At this thought, old Zhang’s eyes rolled back, and he fainted on the spot.

“This Zhang Zhengchang is so easily frightened!”

The Emperor quickly ordered a eunuch to bring a bowl of sugar water to revive him. Then he turned to leave the side hall, where, outside, a young man was waiting.

This youth was dressed in an imperial robe adorned with dragons, tall and straight, with an air of heroic spirit. His features bore a striking resemblance to Zhu Yuanzhang.

“Father, do you truly wish to go with Zhang Zhengchang to meet that rebellious son of the Zhang family?”

This was none other than the Crown Prince, Zhu Biao.

To his son, Zhu Yuanzhang lowered all defenses and showed the smile of a loving father. “Indeed. I am quite curious—could a boy raised on Dragon-Tiger Mountain really fathom my thoughts?”

“If he is not an immortal, he must be an extraordinary man. You shall come with me and see for yourself!”