The Divine Steed Delivers The King's Decree, Zhale Zejie Eager Dispatched Troops

The Great King arrived at the border between Hor and Ling, a place unseen by others. Here, the grassland stretched flat as a mirror, with a small, azure-blue lake at its center. All around, a hundred flowers vied in beauty, swaying in the wind like colorful ribbons, attracting swarms of buzzing bees. The scenery was tranquil and elegant, utterly enchanting. However, the King had no desire to admire it. Instead, he faced southwest and called for his divine steed.

Soon, thick clouds gathered in the sky, accompanied by rumbles of thunder and a light rain. The divine steed, Jang Gapeibu, galloped down a rainbow bridge straight towards him. The King gave the horse detailed instructions about notifying the Ling Kingdom to dispatch troops. He then wrote his decree on yellow satin, affixed his great red seal, and tied it around the horse's neck. The steed raised its head with a long neigh, immediately gathering a mass of white clouds around itself. With a whirlwind, it flew off towards the Ling Kingdom.

Meanwhile, in Ling, Chief Steward Rongtsa Chagen, anxious and sleepless for days due to King Gesar's prolonged absence and unknown fate, had sent swift riders to all corners of the kingdom, urgently summoning the various commanders to discuss state affairs. As the sun had just reached the mountainside, the heroes from all routes had assembled. The Chief Steward addressed them in a slow, drawn-out melody:

"Since King Gesar returned victorious from subduing demons, rescuing Ling from the abyss and bringing the sunlight of happiness to all beings, three years ago he hastily bid us farewell. He left without taking a single person, and has been in Hor for three full years now, with no news of his life, death, fortune, or misfortune, nor a single letter in his own hand! Consider this, all you heroes: why have you shown not the slightest concern? The valiant lord of Ling, Gesar—has he shown no kindness to the people of Ling? The more I think, the more unbearable my anxiety becomes, which is why I have gathered you all for discussion. I will go to Hor immediately to find the Great King. Those willing, accompany me; those unwilling, stay behind!"

Hearing the Chief Steward's words and remembering the Great King's kindness to the people of Ling, the assembled heroes shed tears, overcome with pain, their hairs standing on end. For a moment, they were at a loss.

While they were still deliberating, a tremendous thunderclap suddenly sounded from the northeast, accompanied by the neighing of a steed. A five-colored rainbow appeared in the sky, and the chestnut divine steed descended upon it. The heroes saw the divine horse arriving alone, without its rider, and were instantly stunned. They stood gaping like yaks that had drunk too much salt water, eyes wide, scattered here and there in a daze, fearing something terrible must have happened to the Great King.

The old Chief Steward quickly ordered someone to prepare clean water and ample fodder for the divine steed, while he himself urgently sought news of King Gesar. Jang Gapeibu addressed them all: "The Great King has met with no misfortune. Now, let all misfortune fall upon the heads of our enemies!"

The Chief Steward had also received the King's personal letter by now. After reading it over and over, he felt exceptionally excited. Zhale Zejie, like parched land in June yearning for rain, wished he could see the King immediately. He stood up and declared:

"That exquisitely beautiful pineapple flower—if one does not offer it to the Buddha when it is fragrant, one will regret it when it withers. I, Zhale, son of the hero Bumba—if I do not seek revenge while young and strong, I will regret it when my strength declines. I dare not delay; I must go quickly. Those savage Hor Sinba dogs, though not tigers, have tiger's mouths; I will go and tan their tiger skins! That fat-necked ox, White Tent King, though not a demon king, has the venom of Lutsan; I will whip his neck with a lash! I dare not delay; I leave today! I go to avenge my father's death at the hands of Hor! If only I can pay respects to my uncle Gesar, if only Hor can be swiftly pacified, then I, Zhale, will die without regret! Let Danma command the entire army! I, Zhale, must take a step ahead."

With that, he leaped onto his white steed Jiaxia, shook the reins, and rattled the stirrups, poised like an arrow on a bowstring, ready to fly off. Danma hurriedly stepped forward and grabbed his horse's bridle, saying, "Prince, please be patient a while longer. In the past, Bumba Gyatsa acted alone and unfortunately gave his life. Now you wish to go to Hor alone on a single horse; it is truly unnecessary. If you leave the great army behind and go to Hor alone, I cannot command the army, nor subdue the various tribes. Please do not be hasty."

After this dissuasion, Zhale was caught between going and not going. As he hesitated, the Chief Steward came to persuade him further. Only then did Prince Zhale restrain his impatience and agree to wait three days for the army to assemble.

The Mighty Ling Army Marches on Hor

Prince Zhale Zejie had a face like the bright moon, eyes like golden stars, hair like weeping willows, and a stature like the golden sun rising in the east. His silver helmet resembled a snowy peak with a white rainbow, his armor stood like a stone mountain, and his three weapons were like sparks streaking across the sky. The tiger-skin quiver on his right was like a tiger eyeing its prey; the leopard-skin bow case on his left was like a black bear gone mad; the command flag in his hand unfurled like southern clouds. Majestic as the eastern mountain god Machen Pomra on horseback, he led a vast, starry, wave-like army, marching grandly day and night, advancing in stages. Because Gesar had already eliminated Hor's border defenders, the Ling army met no obstacles. Not even a bird flew ahead to warn them before the Ling army suddenly appeared on the white road of Hor's Yarlasawu Mountain, then passed Mount Balo Zheji, Mount Jue La, and others in succession.

Vanguard General Danma whipped his horse, making the tasseled banners flash. His steed broke into a gallop, causing the hero's longevity knot on his white armor to flutter in the wind. After the vanguard came the young imperial guards, clustering around Prince Zhale, the Chief Steward, King Senlun, and other uncles and elders, followed by the various armies in order.

The Ling army was arrayed with neat armor and helmets, bright banners and tassels, a forest of swords and spears. The sky was filled with military flags, the air thick with flashing helmet plumes, and the earth covered with imposing men and horses. The divine soldiers were like lotuses in a lake, the demonic soldiers like dark clouds on an overcast day. Hatred raced like wild elephants, wrath roared like fierce tigers, war cries thundered like deep rumbles, each warrior as majestic as a lion holding its head high.

The guards on the walls of Yaze City suddenly saw this unidentified army and rushed to report to White Tent King. White Tent King panicked: "Could these be people from the Zhu Division coming to harvest barley? Or perhaps salt porters from the Jiang Kingdom, or tea transporters from the Mu Kingdom?"

Speaking thus, he hurried to the city tower to observe. Discovering it was the great army of Ling, he was terrified out of his wits, trembling as he said, "What can we do now? We have no wings to fly to heaven, no claws to burrow into the earth, no way to flee. With so many of them, how can I possibly withstand them?"

What use was regret now? Even if he couldn't withstand them, he had to fight. Collecting himself, he immediately dispatched fast riders to deliver messages, requesting soldiers from all tribes to come quickly to rescue Yaze City. Except for Meruze, Tangze Yuzhou, and Duoqin, all other Sinba and Baturu swiftly rushed to the royal city. White Tent King pretended everything was still under his control, shaking out his majestic tiger-skin cloak as he declared:

"On the ruined remains of the destroyed Ling Kingdom, who would have thought there were still so many troops? Who would have thought Joru was still alive? Where was he hiding before? Now the Ling army is at our gates; how can we Hor sit and wait for death? As the saying goes: 'Even without a sword, one should polish armor; even without courage, one should bare one's arms.' I am the master of Hor, White Tent King. I have opposed Ling before. Though it seems there have been missteps now, I have never regretted or complained. I enjoyed good fortune in the first half of my life; the fortunes and misfortunes of the latter half remain un-divined. Ling has no need to hold its head high in arrogance; Hor need not bow its head in defeat. The strength, weakness, success, or failure of a great man is merely a matter of encountering the rise and fall of fortune. Hor's Sinba and Baturu, there is no need to cower before battle. Tangze shall go to meet them in battle; we will assess the situation and make arrangements afterward!"

King Gesar’s Deceptive Duel and the Hor King's Despair

Thereupon, he retrieved the helmet offered to the white celestial demons from the outer "Auspicious Overflow" treasure vault, the armor offered to the flower sky demons from the inner "Thousand-Layer Lotus" vault, and the treasured blade of the black earth demons from the "Dense Jewel Pile" vault. White Tent King bestowed these weapons upon Tangze, praying: "O white celestial demon gods worshipped by the forty-nine generations of the Hor royal house, protect Tangze to defeat the enemy and inspire our own people!"

Fully armed and armored, Tangze mounted White Tent King's warhorse "Snow Mountain Flyer" and rode out of the city to meet the enemy. He rode straight to the small river in front of the Ling army camp, stood up in his stirrups, and shouted loudly: "Hey! You beggars in the tattered tents across the river! I do not permit you to camp arbitrarily in our Hor territory. I am Tangze, a trusted minister of Hor's White Tent King. Who among you has skill? Come out and test yourselves!"

Hearing this, Zhale Zejie on the other side grew furious: "Today it's my turn to show my skill."

Saying this, he fastened his armor straps, opened the clasp of the quiver on his right, strung the divine bow from the case on his left, his waist weapons clanging. Mounting Jiaxia, brandishing the Yasi treasured blade, he was about to ride out when the Chief Steward said, "You should slow down. There will be plenty of time to fight Hor."

Zhale said, "This overconfident Baturu—even if Gesar were present, I couldn't bear it."

Ignoring the dissuading, he rode out to battle. Tangze thought to himself: This divine son of Sacred Ling, descendant of the Mukpo Dong clan, Prince Zhale Zejie of the heroic Bumba royal line—he should possess skills worthy of boasting about, battle achievements worthy of praise. He should be the fine steed among horses, the sun and moon among stars, the elephant among beasts, the divine son among men—a peerlessly brave general. Today he seems to flaunt his martial prowess, acting invincible, but I wonder what his true skill is? I must test him. Tangze displayed the majesty of the death god Yama, assuming a fearless posture to meet the challenge. Seeing this, Zhale's anger flared even higher, and he charged forward without hesitation.

At this moment, the miraculously transformed Gesar suddenly appeared on the battlefield. Seeing Zhale so valiant, his heart was greatly comforted: Elder brother Gyatsa was Ling's matchless hero, a champion among men. It seems my nephew is also a peerless hero like his father. Yet he worried that a direct confrontation might lead to mishap. To let Zhale recognize him, Gesar, while running, drew out a sword that Zhale would recognize from its scabbard to show him. However, Zhale, in his eagerness for battle, seeing his opponent draw a sword, felt even more adding fuel to the fire and pursued relentlessly. Gesar had no choice but to flee desperately. Soon, hearing the panting of Jiaxia and the snorts from its nostrils right behind his ears, he thought to himself: "As the saying goes, a morning joke becomes reality by afternoon. This old uncle might fall into his nephew's hands."

With that, he hurriedly revealed the emerald-green mole between his eyebrows, like a turquoise, for his nephew to see. Although Zhale recognized it, he was so overcome with rage that for a moment he couldn't speak, gasping for breath, not knowing what to say. After a while, Zhale finally said, "Uncle! How could you bear to think of such a trick to bully me? I have no foreknowledge; we almost killed each other, uncle and nephew!"

Gesar laughed: "How could I bear to do such a thing? I did this to deceive the Hor people and gain their trust. We must still pretend to fight."

So the two dismounted and wrestled, rolling on the ground. The Hor and Ling armies watched from both sides. When Tangze seemed to gain the upper hand, the Hor side shouted, "The Hor man is winning! The Hor man is winning!" When Zhale seemed to gain the upper hand, the Ling side cheered, "The Ling man is winning! The Ling man is winning!"

In truth, none of the spectators on either side knew that this "Tangze" was actually King Gesar's spirit possessing the body.

As the afternoon sun climbed the western hills, Tangze intentionally let Zhale seize his warhorse, weapons, and armor, then fled, discarding helmet and armor. Pretending to be utterly disheveled, he ran to White Tent King and said, "Great King! Today, though I exerted all my strength, my energy was insufficient; though I fought desperately, my arm strength failed; though I wielded the treasured blade, its edge was not sharp; though I shot arrows, their points were not keen; though I rode in pursuit, my horse's hooves were not swift; though I escaped back, it was by a hair's breadth. I barely managed to save my life through great hardship. What shall we do now?"

He trembled like a bee in a storm. White Tent King felt: Within my Hor territory, there is no one who can match Tangze. Yet now, not only could this Tangze not hold back Ling's thousands of troops and horses, he couldn't even defeat a single young general. What can be done? He pondered repeatedly but could find no strategy.