A Mysterious Caravan Appears on the Forbidden Plains

 

In the northeastern corner of the great Achin plains lay a place called Shazhuyu, the Hor Kingdom's military training ground and a strategic stronghold. No one was permitted to approach without special permission. At its center was a lush grassland with abundant water and pasture.

 

One day, a large merchant caravan suddenly appeared there. Crates of black tea were stacked almost to the sky; the ropes tethering the pack mules were longer than streams. Countless bolts of cloth, silk, and woolen fabrics were displayed alongside gold and silver ornaments, jade, and agate, all meticulously arranged. The hills were covered with mules and horses, and at the foot of the hills, a large golden-tasseled tent was pitched, guarded by sixty massive mastiffs. The Hor people were both alarmed and covetous of this wealth of gold, jade, and silks. Many felt they should dispatch troops to raid the merchant camp and seize all the goods. Baturu Tangze Yuzhou said, "Since the Hor-Ling war, we have stationed heavy troops at all strategic passes. But recently, we keep encountering caravans, sorcerers, monks, and other suspicious individuals. It's hard to say they aren't transformations of Gesar. This caravan's arrival is very strange. Where did they cross our border? I think we must be cautious, not rash. The Hor Kingdom has accumulated deep grievances with neighboring lands. If we rashly send troops to attack a merchant camp, the consequences could be unpredictable. Fortunately, the Great White Tent King is here. I wonder what the King and his ministers think?"

 

The blacksmith Chuguben agreed with Tangze's view, but fearing White Tent King's tyranny, he dared not speak plainly. Estimating that Sinba Meruze would not hesitate to voice his opinion, he went along with the flow: "Now, Black Tent King is not present at this gathering, and the senior minister Daben has gone north. Tangze's words seem to have some merit, but I wonder what the Sinba King thinks?" After speaking, he sat waiting.

 

Sinba Meruze said, "Heavenly King and ministers of all departments, before my late father King Darma Ben, we never invaded any tribe. This soft white silk of the Hor Kingdom bore no stains. But since White Tent Heavenly King ascended the throne, we have made too many enemies and incurred the hatred of all our neighbors. I fear disputes will arise endlessly, longer than a river. Now within our Hor Kingdom, we can only flatter and praise; we cannot bear to hear a single word of dissent. Though Daben, Tangze, and I dare to speak some honest words, the King simply does not heed them. The young men led by the King's younger brother Duoqin and Qiangla recklessly show off their strength, provoking conflicts and enmity, yet the King believes them. However, who is cowardly and who is brave will only become clear when it finally comes to each one's own head!"

Duoqin was very displeased: "You keep saying day after day that we, the king and his ministers, are doomed, doomed. But aren't we still perfectly fine? I think it's better to attack that caravan."

 

Tangze said, "A full pot of rice has its time to cook; a full plate of meat has its time to cool. It would be better to first send someone to inquire, to probe the reality of the situation, and demand they pay the water and pasture fee. If they refuse, then consider sending troops; it wouldn't be too late."

 

White Tent King also thought this idea was good, so he dispatched Sinba Meruze and a clever-tongued dwarf to collect the water and pasture fee while also scouting their movements. Meruze donned his armor neatly: a white helmet adorned with a cluster of red horsehair tassels, white armor, a quiver and bow case fastened tightly at his waist, his dense forest-like black hair protruding from beneath the helmet, his brownish-yellow beard jutting out on his chest, riding a white-browed dappled horse. The dwarf also rode a bird-winged horse, closely following behind, galloping toward the caravan.

 

The Sinba's Humiliating Encounter with the Caravan

 

As they neared the merchant tents, Meruze first sent the dwarf to test the waters. The dwarf tied his horse to a tree and timidly crept toward the tents, just as the guards were practicing archery. Arrows flew chaotically; the dwarf couldn't advance, so he had to hide in the grass by the water-fetching path, waiting for someone fetching water to inquire about the situation. As soon as the archery stopped, a group of water-carriers came whistling along. One worker examined the dwarf carefully and said, "How strange! Where did this little bird die here? If later water-carriers aren't careful, they might step on it or trip over it!"

 

Before the dwarf could reply, the man grabbed him like a little bird and flung him several zhang away, knocking the dwarf unconscious. When he came to and understood, he hurried back to report to Sinba: "No matter what, I dare not go again." He hung his head, his neck bent like a bow, standing there motionless.

 

Meruze had no choice but to go alone. Arriving near the merchant tents, he saw three great merchants smiling as if discussing something, but they were too far away to hear clearly, and he couldn't get closer. So he turned and walked toward the tea-making tent. The workers there were all sneering coldly. Though he shouted at them several times, no one paid him any heed, so he had to wait outside the tent.

 

After a while, a worker emerged, his head wrapped in a cloud-white silk turban, wearing a sky-blue robe, red satin trousers, a treasure blade as long as a river at his waist, rainbow-hued long boots on his feet, a golden-glinting Buddhist shrine hanging on his chest, and silver earrings dazzling to the eyes—like a beautiful peacock. Sinba called out "Brother!" several times in succession, but the man still ignored him and walked away. When he returned, Sinba again called out "Brother!" as before. The man only replied with an "Ah," asking indifferently, "What are you, this fellow, shouting about in front of our great tent?"

 

Sinba said, "This is our Hor Kingdom's pastureland. Our White Tent King has ordered that unless you pay the water and pasture fee, you are not permitted to pitch tents here!"

 

Hearing this, the man sneered and said, "Ah! You fool, talking nonsense. From the prosperous Jhana in the east to the Buddhist kingdom of Jaga in the west, how many times has my merchant caravan traveled? I've never heard of any Hor White Tent King. In this land of Jambudvipa, forget about you yellow Hor people the size of a horse felt pad—even on the great plains before the Vajra Seat at the Jaga temple, or before the golden throne of the Shakyamuni Buddha in Lhasa, Tibet, my caravan has pitched tents. Everywhere we go, people treat us with tea and wine, respect and courtesy. Gold and silver are measured by the peck, silk and satin sold by the length. Trade is fair, both sides satisfied. Never has anyone demanded any grass or water fee! But in your yellow Hor land, you actually say we can't pitch tents? I've truly never heard such a thing. Your White Tent King—aside from bullying Hor men and women, what is he to us? If you insist on threatening that we can't drink water or pasture horses here, we'll put hobbles on all our mules and horses and not move a single step. But from now on, all water and fodder must be supplied daily by your king. The soles of our feet don't have mouths; we don't eat grass. You can rest assured about that."

 

After this dressing-down, the man still felt he hadn't said enough and continued, "You thief, what exactly have you come for today? To extort or to steal something? You boast until the heavens shake, yet you don't know shame. Fine, if you want water and grass money, you can grab three handfuls of ash from that stove pit and eat it. If you still don't scream back, I'll unleash those sixty fierce mastiffs. See if they don't bite you until you're drenched in blood!"

 

These words made Sinba so angry he bristled. He shouted, "Hey! Worker with the hero's turban! Your attitude is more obstinate than rock, your temper rougher than coarse woolen cloth. My yellow Hor is not like other places where you can act as you please! Originally, I thought of sending a few great Sinbas with troops, but I felt coming personally to mediate would suffice. Yet you actually speak so insolently. I don't mind that at all, but if you insist on not paying the water and pasture fee, I'm afraid you'll face punishment under Hor law. So better pay the fee quickly and avoid that step!"

 

Hearing this, the man said, "We have no time to pay you now. Waiting until the eighth day to pay isn't too late. If you can't wait, then tonight, the dirt I shake from my hat and boots, the stove ash I scrape out—I'll give it all to you and White Tent King as snacks, as the first installment of the water and grass fee. Such fine goods—don't distribute them among the Hor tribes!" With that, he glared and turned back into the tent, then stuck his head out and roared angrily, "What? Still not scramming back? I'm going to unleash the dogs!" As he spoke, he untied the mastiffs. All sixty dogs pounced toward Sinba. Sinba fled for his life backward; it felt as if a dog had already bitten his calf, his heart pounding like a lamb's. The barking before and behind was like a thousand thunders; the dogs' tongues flashed like red lightning. He ran headlong without looking back, not returning to Yaze City until dusk. Not daring to mention the insults, he just panted and reported to White Tent King that it had been agreed to collect the water and pasture fee seven days later. The Hor king and ministers had no choice but to agree.

 

Within a few days, the caravan had already smashed the grass and shrubs over a large nearby area with stones, turning the beautiful grassland into patches of black earth, leaving behind a scene of desolation and bleakness. Because of the prior agreement, the Hor king and ministers saw this but could do nothing, forced to wait for the day to collect the fee.

 

Gesar Transforms Into A Fisherman And Kill The Soul-Binding Fish

 

On the fourth day, Gesar led thirteen men from the caravan. Transforming himself into a fearsome-looking fisherman, he wore deerskin trousers and shirt, wrapped around his waist with eighteen kinds of horns and antlers from wild yaks and antelopes. Carrying iron hooks and fishing nets, he moved his tent to a place with fish nests in the great Hor River and cast his net.

 

At that time, the three soul-binding fish were surrounded by a hundred subordinate fish, devouring various creatures in the river as if eating roasted barley. The fisherman gathered all these fish into his net, pulled them ashore, dumped them on the great plain, and began gutting them one by one. The people of Yaze City all saw this scene. Sinba immediately leaped onto his horse and galloped off like the wind.

 

Among the netted fish were three exceptionally large ones: vermilion, golden, and white-browed. Their eyes blinked like shining mirrors, their tails thrashing left and right. Just as the fisherman was about to kill them, Meruze arrived. Looking at these large fish, their colors matching the patterns in the ancient secret texts passed down through generations, they seemed very much like the soul-binding sacred fish of the three Hor Kings. White Tent King had just days ago spoken of protecting them. Filled with anger and anxiety, he urgently shouted at the fisherman, "You caravan! First you pitched tents on my forbidden grassland, pastured your mules and horses, then set dogs on me. Now you're catching and killing our Hor fish! Why do you bully us like this?"

 

The fisherman, having just gutted a fish as big as a sleeve, bloodily, grabbed Sinba's chest with his left hand, swung the fish with his right, and struck him three times across the face like the flashing dawn light, cursing, "You insatiably greedy fellow! The river has no owner, flowing freely across the plain. Catching a few ownerless fish—what does it have to do with you? I'll take these big fish back for meals, these small ones for snacks. If you weren't so greedy and knew your place, I'd give you this fish soup as a gift. Eat your fill and hurry back to claim credit before White Tent King!"

 

By then, the fish sun-drying on the plain had all died. Sinba felt both ashamed and anxious but could do nothing. He thought, if he argued further, it would only worsen the situation. Forget the other fish; if he could get those three soul-binding fish, the demon-masters surely had ways to revive them. So he deceitfully said, "Respected fisherman! According to ancient Hor texts, these three large vermilion, golden, and white-browed fish are three extremely potent poisons. What use are they to you? You can do as you please with the other fish—eat them or release them, it's up to you. But I came early this morning and have truly been as careful as possible with you. If others ask me, 'What did you accomplish with the fisherman?' How shall I answer? As the proverb says, 'A good man is like gold, able to fulfill people's wishes.' Please give me these three dead poisonous fish. For you, among these thousand fish, it's nothing much."

 

The fisherman paid no heed, quickly stuffing the dried large fish into a bag, saying, "You deceiver! For us merchants, we need medicine, and we need poisons. I don't need you giving me advice. Get lost early!" With that, he kicked Sinba three times, sending him tumbling head over heels, stars flashing before his eyes. Others in the tent saw this and burst into roars of laughter like mountains collapsing and earth splitting. Amid the wild laughter, the fisherman strode away. Ashamed and realizing he was no match for the fisherman, Sinba could only slip hurriedly back to the city. He reported all these events in detail to White Tent King. The ministers unanimously agreed that this caravan was outrageously bold and lawless, deciding to muster troops that very night to eliminate them.

 

The Vanished Caravan

 

At the break of dawn, the four great Hor generals assembled a large army. As soon as day broke, they launched an attack on the caravan camp. Duoqin volunteered to lead the vanguard. When he arrived with his troops, the tents had long since vanished without a trace, leaving only large stove platforms and piles of stove ash. Discarded tea leaves were heaped like small hills. The entire great plain was empty, not a soul in sight.

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