Chapter 033: Right and Wrong in Times of Turmoil

Master Lingtong called out to Li Dong, asking what method he intended to use to force Zhang Xutuo’s army to retreat. At this, the crowd’s hearts skipped a beat; all eyes turned to Li Dong, waiting to see how he would respond.

Master Lingtong was not only formidable in martial arts, but also in composure. Throughout the heated debate in the magistrate’s hall, when so many had been dragged into the fray, he alone had remained silent. This calm and poise set him apart—such tranquility is not common. The more serene a person, the keener their insight into the heart of the matter. By speaking not a word, Master Lingtong left no handle for Li Dong to grasp, making him an opponent far more difficult to reckon with than Jia Xing, whose defeat had come so easily.

He alone remained sober among the intoxicated crowd; he alone was the most challenging to contend with. If Li Dong could only get past him, all other obstacles would fall away. Thus, Li Dong had no choice but to be even more composed, more resourceful, and more astute than Master Lingtong—there was no other way.

“Does Master Lingtong have a better method to teach me?” Li Dong replied blandly, tossing the burning question back at his opponent, waiting to see how he would respond. If he could discern Lingtong’s thought process, he could counter accordingly.

Master Lingtong’s eyes narrowed, his expression unchanged, gaze lowered in meditation. His tone was gentle as he replied, “A monk does not concern himself with worldly matters, let alone the affairs of war and bloodshed. Please, do not jest at my expense.”

True to his reputation, Master Lingtong was a tough nut to crack—unyielding as a stone in a latrine. His words amounted to no answer at all; if monks do not meddle in secular affairs, then why ask Li Dong how to resolve the matter with Zhang Xutuo? Now, by feigning indifference, he was clearly evading responsibility.

Li Dong quickly devised a new tactic and asked, “If you were to engage Zhang Xutuo in a duel of martial arts, what would you do?”

Lingtong smiled. “I have no talent for martial arts whatsoever. Please, spare me further jokes.”

Li Dong gritted his teeth in frustration—this man deflected every question with the ease of a practiced tai chi master. If he continued to avoid answering, Li Dong would have to force his hand. “If you were to sit and discuss Zen with Zhang Xutuo, what would you do?”

For every word Lingtong spoke, Li Dong would have to answer with three. He could not help but admire Lingtong’s ability to strike the heart of the matter with a single phrase. Now, Li Dong pressed him with a sharp question—if he did not reveal his true intentions, he would be hard-pressed to extricate himself, for the question was a trap: How can one call himself a monk if he does not practice Zen?

“Would he be asking me about Zen, or would I be discussing Zen with him?”

“Mutual discussion.”

“Does he understand Zen?”

“Suppose he does.”

“Testing.”

“Mutual testing.”

“By skill.”

“Refusing battle.”

“By strategy.”

“By force.”

“By persuasion!”

“Congratulations, Lingtong, you’ve learned to answer quickly,” Li Dong thought to himself. “Ten points to you.”

Their exchange was sharp and swift—one questioning with finesse, the other answering with speed. If it continued, those present would become utterly bewildered.

The gist of their dialogue was this: the most effective way to convince one’s opponent is first to test the depth of his understanding of Zen. But the other party would not yield easily, so both would test each other. If neither strength nor gentleness prevailed, one must set an example and move the other through personal conduct.

From this exchange, Li Dong gleaned the answer he sought and discerned Master Lingtong’s true nature. There was no need to continue; Lingtong now understood how Li Dong would deal with Zhang Xutuo. The others in the hall remained baffled, which was just as well—if all understood, they too would be versed in the way of Zen. These were the insights Li Dong had gained that night at Daming Temple, when he had sat and discussed Zen with Master Huitong.

Lingtong was passionate about martial arts but less adept at Zen than his senior. Li Dong, improvising, had managed to muddle through and outwit him.

As the others looked on in confusion and suspicion, Li Dong nodded meaningfully at Du Fuwei, signaling him to leave without delay. Together with Wang Bo, they bowed their farewells, took a thousand soldiers, and swiftly departed the city.

It was not until they were outside the city walls that Li Dong breathed a long sigh of relief, and explained to Du Fuwei and the others how perilous their situation had just been. Master Lingtong’s real question was how Li Dong planned to break the enemy lines after leading his troops out. Li Dong had replied tactfully that his true intent was not to defeat the enemy, but to probe their intentions—a reconnaissance in force. If necessary, they could even fight a battle.

With no knowledge of the enemy’s strength or weakness, Li Dong’s tactic was prudent. Moreover, since Lingtong was less versed in Zen, Li Dong had found an opening. But it would not be long before Lingtong realized the truth—hence the hurry to leave the city.

Qi County lay due west of Zhangqiu. Naturally, Li Dong led his troops out by the west gate.

Upon hearing that a small force—barely a thousand men—had departed from the west gate, Zhang Xutuo was puzzled. Qi County had some twenty or thirty thousand troops; what could a mere thousand hope to achieve? Who would be so bold? Could it be that among the rebel army, there was still someone with the courage to stand alone against ten thousand?

With his attendants’ help, Zhang Xutuo donned his armor, mounted his horse, and rode forth, spear in hand, to meet the approaching force.

Within a dozen paces, Zhang Xutuo reined in his horse.

Li Dong saw a tall steed emerge from the enemy ranks, bearing a formidable general. The man’s face was ruddy and yellow, with thick brows slanting to his temples, a flowing beard on his chest, silver armor gleaming, spear shining, his bearing exuding power. He appeared to be about the same age as Li Dong’s father, Li Hun—just past forty—which inspired a sense of kinship in Li Dong.

He guessed this must be Zhang Xutuo. Advancing two steps on horseback, he made no move toward his weapon, but bowed and said, “I am Li Dong of Zhangqiu. At the behest of Magistrate Lu Li’er, I bring a blood-written letter for the County Prefect.”

Zhang Xutuo replied, “And why should I trust you?”

Li Dong found himself at a loss. If Zhang Xutuo refused even to read the letter, there was truly nothing more he could do.

Du Fuwei rode forward and said, “I am Du Fuwei. A few days ago, I traveled to Licheng to seek the County Prefect, but returned without success. I left word with the city scouts that, upon the Prefect’s return, they were to be informed of any enemy in Zhangqiu. Some of those scouts have seen us before. If you bring them here, the County Prefect will know the truth.”

Li Dong thought this was a sound suggestion, but if the scouts were not present, they would be in grave danger—unable to surrender to the Sui or retreat to Zhangqiu. Would they be forced into banditry?

Just then, a man behind Zhang Xutuo called out, “Are these not the Zhangqiu soldiers who tried to shoot arrows outside the city a few days ago?”

Du Fuwei exclaimed with delight, “Indeed, that was me!”

The scout said, “Strange—just days ago you were dressed as a common soldier, and today you appear in a general’s attire.”

Du Fuwei replied, a bit sheepishly, “After the local lord seized Zhangqiu, we were compelled to surrender in order to preserve our strength. This general’s title was bestowed upon me, but I’d just as soon discard it.” As he spoke, he made to remove his insignia.

Zhang Xutuo said, “There’s no need for that. In these troubled times, there is no clear line between right and wrong, or good and evil. It is rare to find men so loyal to the Sui.”

Li Dong was overjoyed—Zhang Xutuo finally trusted him. He leapt from his horse, walked over, and presented the blood letter.

After reading it for a while, Zhang Xutuo said, “Very well. This is not the place to talk—let us discuss matters inside the tent.”

But Du Fuwei kept signaling with his eyes from the side. Li Dong, catching this out of the corner of his eye, grew uneasy—was something amiss once more?