Chapter 122: The Blind Turtle and the Floating Log

Zhang Chi’s assessment was correct. What kind of man was Huan Xuan of Jingzhou? A man who had spent decades in patient calculation with his sights set on the entire realm—how could he possibly be as shortsighted as those common generals in Shu, whose vision extended no further than their own toes?

Shu bordered Jingzhou; if the Hu tribes were to enter Shu, it would indeed be a case of the lips being gone and the teeth feeling the cold for Jingzhou.

Ever since the Jin court migrated south, the Hu had posed a constant threat to the Jiangnan region. It was only because of the Northern Expeditionary Army and the formidable Jingzhou forces—guarding the east and west of the Yangtze River respectively—that the Hu had been prevented from pushing southward. The Battle of Feishui was precisely why the Fu Qin state had collapsed.

The Yao Qin state rose in its wake, and having learned from the lessons of the past, they altered their attitude toward the Southern Jin.

With the natural barrier of the Yangtze River, a direct, forceful assault was not to be undertaken lightly. However, the Hu would never abandon their ambition to invade the south. If they could not swallow it whole, they would resort to nibbling away at it.

Thus, in recent years, the strategy of Yao Qin had diverged from Fu Jian’s old approach of gathering massive forces for a river crossing. Instead, they had begun to gradually erode the Jin dynasty’s territories north of the river, and now, they were setting their sights on Shu.

Ever since the time of Huan Wen, the Huan clan had been dealing with the Hu. Huan Xuan understood the strategic intent of Yao Qin with perfect clarity. While he was aware of it, he had often felt powerless to stop the erosion of the lands north of the river. However, he knew one thing for certain: Shu must never fall into the hands of the Hu.

If the Hu occupied the lands north of the river, one could still rely on the Yangtze to hold them back. But if they were to capture Shu, the situation would change entirely. The terrain of Shu was easy to defend and difficult to attack; though it bordered Jingzhou, the upper reaches of the Yangtze were treacherous. If the Hu held Shu, they could launch an assault downstream, and resisting them would be nearly impossible.

Conversely, if the Hu were to seize Shu first, any attempt by the Huan clan to take it back would be far more difficult than one could imagine.

Therefore, it was not for the sake of national righteousness or the common people, but for his own interests, that Huan Xuan would never permit the Hu to invade Shu. In truth, regardless of whether the Inspector of Yizhou sent envoys to request aid, he would have dispatched troops to intervene regardless.

Yet, Huan Xuan was a man of deep cunning. Even if he were sending troops for his own benefit, he would not do so for nothing; he intended to use this campaign as a stepping stone to bring Shu under his control. That was why, even when Shu suffered the grievous loss of six commanderies, he had remained as steady as a mountain. He was waiting—waiting for the Shu side to invite him in. That way, his control over Shu would be legitimate and aboveboard: "I had no intention of coming; it was you who invited me."

Long before the military mobilization, during a banquet Zhang Chi attended at the Yizhou Inspector’s office, he had already reached an understanding with the Inspector: the only way to defeat the Hu was to request reinforcements from Huan Xuan in Jingzhou. The Inspector, of course, would scramble to do so—the Huan clan had held Jingzhou for two generations, and he was more than eager to have them as his patrons.

Now that the Yizhou Inspector, representing the Prince of Chengdu, had requested that Huan Xuan enter Shu, the two sides found themselves in perfect accord. Huan Xuan immediately dispatched Huan Heng to Shu, while sending Huan Qian with one hundred thousand troops to resist the Hu.

Huan Xuan was the son of the famous Eastern Jin general, the Grand Marshal and Duke of Nanjun, Huan Wen. Having inherited the title of Duke of Nanjun at the age of five, he naturally did not need to lead the campaign in person; he only needed to sit in Jingzhou and issue his commands.

Huan Wen’s younger brother was Huan Chong, who was Huan Xuan’s uncle. Huan Chong’s second son was Huan Qian. At this moment, it was Huan Qian who had received orders from Huan Xuan to lead the hundred thousand men against the Hu.

Huan Qian was known for his caution and prudence in warfare. Though his hundred thousand troops were elite, he had no intention of clashing head-on with the hundreds of thousands of Hu wolves and tigers. As he rode on horseback, he turned to a monk traveling alongside him and asked, "Master, do you have any brilliant strategies to help our army achieve victory in the first battle?"

The monk, possessing a kind and gentle countenance and appearing to be around forty years of age, smiled and evaded the question: "War is a tool of destruction, a path of killing. We who have left the secular life strive to deliver all sentient beings from suffering; why would the General ask a monk about the ways of slaughter?"

Seeing the monk deflect, Huan Qian laughed and said, "I only know that you are a disciple of Master Huiyuan. It seems you truly live up to the name of a high monk. May I ask your name?"

The monk smiled and replied, "This humble monk is Daosheng."

"Was this dharma name given to you by Master Huiyuan?"

Daosheng shook his head with a smile. "I first entered the monastic life under Zhu Fatai and took the surname Zhu. It is only in recent years that I came to Mount Lu to seek instruction from Master Huiyuan. As for the name 'Daosheng,' it is one I chose myself."

"Oh?" Huan Qian asked, "And what is the meaning of your name, Master?"

"The gentleman attends to the root; when the root is established, the Way is born," Daosheng replied. "When I was young, I was single-mindedly intent on saving the world, on becoming a Buddha or an ancestor, but I found myself constantly hitting walls. Only as I grew older did I finally understand that in this world, haste does not bring success."

Daosheng continued to explain, "The life of a monk is governed by the same principles as the life of a man. One must never be overly ambitious or detached from reality. If one has not even mastered the basics, how can one expect to become a Buddha or an ancestor the moment one enters the order? Yet, once the fundamental tasks are accomplished, the profound truths of the Great Way will naturally reveal themselves. This is the origin of my name, Daosheng: 'The gentleman attends to the root; when the root is established, the Way is born.'"

"A marvelous saying," Huan Qian praised. "Though, that line originates from the *Analects*; I did not expect a Master to be so well-versed in Confucian classics."

The famous scholars of the Wei and Jin dynasties read the *Laozi* and *Zhuangzi*, and while Confucianism was in decline, there were still many who studied the *Analects*.

Daosheng smiled. "Confucianism, Buddhism, and Taoism share the same origin and serve to corroborate one another. Naturally, I have delved into these Confucian and Taoist classics as well."

To claim he had only "delved into them" was merely Daosheng’s modesty. Any high monk of this era could be considered a master of his craft. Because Buddhist scriptures were often obscure and difficult to understand when translated directly, high monks frequently utilized Confucian and Taoist classics to explain them so that people could grasp the meaning. They borrowed most heavily from Metaphysical studies, but Confucian classics were also essential. This was, in fact, one of the reasons why Southern Buddhism differed so significantly from other branches.

"You are truly erudite, Master," Huan Qian laughed.

Daosheng smiled and replied, "The General is too kind. In truth, although I have read a few books, it is merely to facilitate the propagation of the Dharma."

For those within the Buddhist community, someone like Daosheng was naturally seen as a model. However, members of the aristocratic families like Huan Qian often found this difficult to understand: "A human life lasts but a hundred years. Master, why exhaust your heart and soul so? If one does not seize the moment to enjoy life, wouldn't that be a waste of these hundred years?"

"The Buddha teaches that a human life is hard to obtain, the Dharma is hard to hear, to be born in the Middle Kingdom is hard, and to believe in the Pure Land is hard. Since I have obtained this human existence, I must make good use of it to diligently study the Dharma. In my eyes, seizing the moment for pleasure is what truly wastes those hundred years."

"Your words make sense, Master," Huan Qian said, though he did not necessarily think so. Since their paths were different, why should he argue with a monk? He asked instead, "What did you mean earlier when you said that a 'human life is hard to obtain'?"

"The Buddha says," Daosheng replied with a smile, offering an analogy: "In the midst of a vast, frigid ocean, there is a blind turtle. This turtle’s lifespan is longer than the universe itself, yet its eyes are blind. Once every hundred years, this blind turtle has the chance to surface. Drifting in the vast ocean is a piece of driftwood with a hole in its center, exactly the size of the turtle’s head. It has been drifting there since the dawn of time."

"When the blind turtle surfaces once every hundred years, if its pointed head can happen to fit perfectly into the hole in the driftwood—a chance that occurs once in a millennium—the turtle can obtain a human body and see the light once more."

"But in the vast, boundless ocean, where is that driftwood?"

"Finally, after waiting another hundred years with great difficulty, the turtle surfaces, and its head touches the wood. The blind turtle is overjoyed, struggling frantically to swim toward it, pushing with all its might, hoping to fit into the hole. But the turtle is blind; how can it find the hole in the wood? Suddenly, a massive wave crashes down, sweeping the driftwood away. Countless opportunities over hundreds of years vanish just like that."

"The turtle sinks back into the deep, dark ocean. As the tides ebb and flow, who knows how many hundreds of years this blind turtle has endured."

Daosheng smiled gently. "The human life we have obtained is actually even rarer than the chance of that blind turtle finding the wood. How could we not cherish it?"