Chapter 50: A Monk

“You truly are timid. We scholars possess uprightness and righteousness; evil spirits flee before us. There is nothing to fear.”

Liu Yuance was a man of deep calculation; as he spoke, he took the initiative to move closer. He understood well who could be of use and who was worth investing in. Shen Shi, for instance, was someone worth his investment.

In the Song Dynasty, scholars looked down upon and suppressed military men, but that did not mean they did not make use of them. Di Qing was the best example. Bao Zheng relied on Wang Chao and Ma Han, and later, Yang Zhi found favor under Cai Jing. All this showed that Song's civil officials recognized the value of military men. Their suppression was not for its own sake, but stemmed from the political orthodoxy established at the founding of the dynasty.

For someone like Shen Shi, Liu Yuance often thought that if he could win him over, what need would his father have to fear the officialdom? His father, Liu Lin, had resigned from his post as Censor and returned home, not for reasons known to outsiders, but for one clear to his family—war.

During Liu Lin's tenure, wars with the Liao were incessant. Worse still, the Song’s ill-conceived policy suppressed the military; to keep them in check, civil officials had to be placed in the army. In the early Song, when the army was undefeated, this was not an issue; as long as the army held, civil officials would not perish. But the second generation of the Song were no military geniuses and squandered the forces left by their predecessors. By the reign of Emperor Zhenzong, the Song had to buy peace from the Liao. Under Emperor Renzong, they could not even defeat the Western Xia.

When force fails, one is bound to be beaten. Civil officials who suffered defeats rarely survived. It was not the Song who killed them; it was the victorious enemy. They were scholars, the easiest officials to capture after a lost battle.

Generals like Yang the Invincible, on the other hand, were rarely seized or slain by the enemy; those with formidable martial skill usually died by siege and starvation. Civil officials, without the protection of the army, could be killed by any common soldier.

Liu Lin did not resign because he was to march with the army, but because he heard he was to be sent as an envoy to Western Xia—a task just as deadly. Each year, Song’s diplomats died in such posts, to the point where diplomacy became more feared than campaigning among civil officials. War did not break out every year, but by Emperor Renzong's time, diplomatic missions were a high-risk rotation.

Of course, Liu Lin regretted his resignation, or he would not have spent his days in the countryside, cultivating his reputation as a man of letters.

Shen Shi’s sword strike had truly left an impression on Liu Yuance. If one could cleave such great waves with a single stroke, why fear the Liao or Western Xia? With such a warrior as protector, who would not dare to be sent as an envoy?

To win over a scion of a general’s family like Shen Shi, Liu Yuance extended an olive branch. It should be known that the Song was a dynasty where civil officials extended olive branches and military men bowed their heads in submission. Even famous generals like Di Qing and Yue Fei addressed civil officials as “your humble servant.” This gave Liu Yuance the confidence to reach out.

What he did not realize was that Shen Shi was not truly a man of the Song. Shen Shi glanced at him, then at Bao Zheng, and said, “With righteous spirit, even ghosts and demons will keep their distance.”

Hearing Shen Shi agree with his words, Liu Yuance was pleased. But was Shen Shi referring to him? No, he meant Bao Zheng. As for Liu Yuance himself—well…

“This young man is not wrong, but female ghosts are most attracted to a scholar’s vital energy. One breath from a scholar is worth ten of an ordinary man, for the scholar’s breath is imbued with cultural spirit, which is of great use to spirits. It is easy for some charming female ghosts to take a liking to you and drain you all night long.” In the midst of their conversation, suddenly, a man’s voice interjected.

“Who—who is there?” Liu Yuance was so startled he nearly jumped.

Night had already fallen; they were sharing ghost stories as they walked, and to suddenly hear another voice was enough to frighten even the bold.

At that moment, a lantern approached rapidly from ahead. When the voice was first heard, the lantern was still distant, but before the words finished, it was upon them, moving with an unnaturally swift, eerie speed. The figure behind the light was indistinct until nearby, when everyone saw it was a monk in robes striding toward them.

They examined the newcomer and saw he wore a blue monk’s robe, with a shining bald head that drew all eyes.

“Greetings, venerable elder,” they said, for this was a respectful title for a Buddhist monk. The scholars all bowed in greeting.

Shen Shi glanced at the monk; sensing no spiritual power from him, he simply nodded with the others, refraining from any special gesture reserved for cultivators.

“Honorable patrons, coming here so late at night, this humble monk wonders if he might offer a word of advice,” the monk said, returning their bow.

“What matter does the venerable elder wish to share?” Liu Yuance asked respectfully. As a family cultivating reputation, the Lius were well aware of the influence of the Buddhist order. In Song alone, there were over a million officially registered monks, all linked in a single system; a single word in one’s favor from a monk could instantly elevate someone to the status of a famed scholar.

A famed scholar, after all, need not possess unparalleled talent—so long as one was well-known, one was a famed scholar. Each year, new famed scholars emerged in Song. How many were true prodigies? How many were simply created by family promotion and reputation? Later generations might think elections and canvassing for votes showed enlightenment, but in truth, these were games played by the ancients long ago.

On a side note, in the same era, there were about ten thousand registered Daoist priests in Song, with a peak of thirty thousand.

The monk did not speak immediately, instead looking at each of them in turn before finally smiling, “Seeing you all returning late, I was curious and took a look. I wish to warn you: perhaps you do not realize your own condition, but you are all tainted with the aura of ghosts and monsters. You must have encountered something unclean on your journey this evening.”

Liu Yuance and his companions were stunned, exclaiming in awe, “Venerable elder, you are truly a sage! Earlier today, we crossed the river by boat. The boat was motionless in the middle of the river, then suddenly began to move on its own. We suspected we had met a river spirit or something of the sort.”

The monk was greatly delighted by this and congratulated them, “Congratulations! Who would have thought your destinies were so blessed, that even river spirits would not harm you…”

“You flatter us, venerable elder.” The monk’s words filled everyone with joy, as if their fortunes were truly extraordinary.

“Thank you for your warning, venerable elder. We will be careful and avoid traveling at night in the future, lest we encounter further spirits and monsters,” they all said gratefully, their affection for the monk growing.

But just as they relaxed, the monk spoke again, “Though nothing befell you this time, it was only because your noble fate protected you. Once or twice can be dismissed, but if it happens again, it may not bode well for your futures if you continue to rely on good fortune to avert trouble.”