Chapter 115: Towards the Turks (Part Three)

Inside Chang’an City, Li Shimin paced alone in the courtyard. Now, only a few plum blossoms stubbornly bloomed amidst the winter snow, their proud resilience bringing him great comfort.

To him, was he not also living through a harsh winter? Every step he took had to be measured carefully, each footprint in the snow leaving a clear mark. Every word and deed could influence the fate of the empire. The Tang Dynasty might grow prosperous because of him, or it might decline.

The Sui Dynasty’s approach to the nomads had been straightforward. Li Shimin always believed that the Sui was not entirely worthless. His father, Li Yuan, had seized the opportunity when Emperor Yang of Sui excessively engaged in grand construction projects, emptying the treasury and conscripting countless laborers, causing widespread suffering. Yet, the core problem was not these surface issues, but the disruption to spring plowing and autumn harvests. Agriculture, the foundation of the nation, could not be neglected. Without food, there could be no strong army. Seeing this, Li Shimin grasped the chance to change the ruler of the realm.

Hence, Li Shimin chose an auspicious day to go to the fields and work alongside the farmers, demonstrating the state’s emphasis on agriculture and inspiring confidence among the people that peace was near.

Domestic governance was the pillar of his power, but foreign relations troubled him more, especially how to handle the nomads. After ascending the throne, Li Shimin regarded diplomacy with the nomads as a matter of utmost importance.

For the Tang, what was beneficial often spelled disaster for the nomads. The world was one, and their gains were others’ losses—an all-or-nothing game. The tribes resented Tang rule, believing conquest was the only path. This issue traced back to the political backdrop of the time.

The Han people and the Turks had long been at war. Though the Eastern Turks had signed the so-called “Weishui Alliance” with the Tang, it was merely the result of Emperor Taizong’s boldness—killing a white horse’s head and bluffing the Turkic army into retreat.

While Kaghligh Khan was pleased, his tribesmen were far from happy. Fifteen tribes, including the Xueyantuo, Uighurs, Bosi, and Boligan, harbored their own ambitions. Meanwhile, the power of the Western Turk Kaghan Hesana was steadily rising, and the tribes elected the Xueyantuo leader Yishibo as Shak. Thanks to Zhao Deyan’s forceful imposition of Han customs and decrees, Kaghligh Khan’s rule was politically chaotic from top to bottom. Not only the Xueyantuo but also the Uighurs and Bayegu tribes defected and drew swords against him.

Kaghligh Khan grew anxious. His own men no longer obeyed him and even sought to change their banner. How to respond? Nomadic peoples did not rely on diplomacy to consolidate power. Attack was acceptable, but peaceful negotiations were out of the question. Thus, the Eastern Turk Kaghligh Khan chose among his own kin and settled on his older brother’s son, a man named Yugu, reputed for military talent and a strong name. He led a formidable force of one hundred thousand cavalry, intending to strike the Uighurs hard—not necessarily to annihilate them, but to send a warning to all other tribes of his supreme might.

Yet, as often happens, the story’s beginning did not foreshadow its end. The Uighur leader had a striking name too—Bodhisattva. With only five thousand cavalry, he harshly taught Yugu a lesson. The Eastern Turks suffered a crushing defeat; most of the one hundred thousand cavalry fell into enemy hands and were turned against them.

Hearing the news, the Xueyantuo mobilized. They knew their former elder brother was faltering. The nomads had no concept of propriety or shame—those were Confucian morals imposed on the Han. The nomads understood only one thing in this world: survival of the fittest. When you are strong, they follow you; when you weaken, they prey upon you. At this critical juncture, the Xueyantuo followed their instincts and began attacking Kaghligh Khan. Surrounded on all sides, he found himself in a desperate situation.

As a brilliant leader, Li Shimin clearly understood the situation. Many ministers advised immediate military action to seize a share of the spoils and to secure a favorable position against surrounding powers. But Chancellor Zhangsun Wuji voiced Li Shimin’s greatest concern—the risks of acting like a great power.

In the short term, sending troops might yield some gains, but tribes like the Uighurs and Xueyantuo had keen eyes. They saw that Tang was a country that did not keep its promises, no better than the nomads themselves. How could Tang build credibility abroad? If the Tang suffered a national crisis again, would the “Weishui Alliance” luck repeat itself?

Because of this, Li Shimin abandoned thoughts of immediate attack. Yet holding his troops back did not mean forever abstaining from conquest. It was merely a matter of choosing the right time and justification for a decisive strike. For now, with Kaghligh Khan in peril, it was prudent to heed Zhangsun Wuji’s advice to send an envoy—to state their position and to gather intelligence.

Li Shimin glanced back at the busy palace, where memorials and petitions from all directions lay piled on desks. He worried whether Tang Jian, the envoy, could bring back useful news. After all, the Eastern Turks were a land of treachery, requiring experience and wisdom to navigate.

The nomad leader naturally distrusted Tang Jian and his party. To him, Tang’s flowery words were incomprehensible nonsense. He cared little about the envoy’s background; robbery needed no pretext.

The nomad leader snapped, “Enough talk. How many do you have?” He rubbed two fingers together, signaling that Tang Jian would need to pay a ransom if he wanted safe passage.

Tang Jian understood the unspoken rule. The purpose of his mission was to deliver gifts, and Tang would not allow the gifts meant for Kaghligh Khan to be damaged. The rest was negotiable.

Tang Jian said, “We bring some treasures from Tang, to serve as a token of appreciation.”

A younger member muttered under his breath, “Appreciation? More like a fee for robbing us.”

Yan Shan quickly shushed him.

The nomad leader waved his hand, and his men quickly presented rare gold, silk, and fine cloth from the transported goods. The nomads cared little for silk—too showy and useless in battle. Such items were good only for dancing girls or as baby diapers. Gold, however, was precious, perfect for adorning weapons and flaunting power.

Logan keenly realized that once his value was exhausted, the nomads would be implacable enemies—discarding allies and betraying once useful tools. Losing treasures but keeping their lives would be a bitter loss.

Tang Jian asked, “May I ask which tribe you belong to?”

The nomad leader snorted, “Han, don’t ask about our origins! You’re not worthy to know.”

Tang Jian bowed slightly. “I spoke out of turn. These treasures are meant as gifts for Kaghligh Khan.”

The nomad slapped his thigh and muttered darkly, “That fool! He’s not worthy.”

This statement made the leader’s stance clear, and Tang Jian immediately adjusted his strategy.

“No matter. We come in the spirit of friendship between our two nations. Behind us lie mountains of gold and silver—would you not wish to have them?”