Chapter 139: A Test of Strength

Wherever Zhen Er arrived, his first act was neither to trade with the herdsmen nor to inquire about local prices. Instead, he would visit the tribal chief and present him with gifts. It was much like paying a tax upon entering a new territory; only after receiving permission could a caravan conduct business there.

Regardless of a tribe’s size, its chief wielded authority equal to that of an emperor in his own domain. Without the chief’s consent, a caravan could not take a single step—provided, of course, that it was not a band of robbers.

Most tribes, however, welcomed the arrival of caravans. Caravans were like the blood coursing through a human body, traveling across every corner of the grasslands. They brought not only the goods that were in short supply, but also news from distant lands.

Without caravans, the tribes had no way of learning what was happening beyond their borders—especially the Urohu Tribe, which spent the winter hidden away in the valleys.

“Caravan from afar, the Urohu Tribe welcomes you! Let the young men of the tribe light the bonfires, let the maidens don their finest bridal dresses, and let us entertain our distant guests with the fattest lambs!”

Zhen Er presented Pukun with generous gifts: ironware scarce in the Shiwe lands, brilliantly patterned silk, everyday tea bricks, spices, and medicinal herbs, along with two great jars of the strongest liquor. Pukun accepted everything with a broad smile.

“The Urohu Tribe will be the final stop on our caravan’s journey north. We ask your permission to trade here! We have brought goods urgently needed in the northern lands, and we are willing to exchange them for all kinds of furs and food.”

Pukun’s smile spread across the wrinkles of his face.

“You will find everything you desire here. Not only every kind of fur, but also cattle hides, horns, and sinews. If you are willing, we even have gold, agate, and diamonds with which to purchase every item in your possession…”

A surge of delight swept through Zhen Er’s heart. This was precisely the purpose of his journey. Once these uncut agates and diamonds were taken back to the Great Tang, their value would increase dozens of times over. As for cattle hides, horns, and the like, they were strategic materials that would be confiscated in their entirety by the authorities upon entry into the realm. The compensation would not even cover the cost of transporting them, unless they were smuggled into Great Tang territory.

“I wonder, does your tribe have any surplus bezoar for sale to the caravan?”

Before artificial bezoar could be produced, even on the international markets of later ages, natural bezoar was worth as much as gold.

Bezoar was a gallstone formed in the liver or gallbladder of cattle, mammals belonging to the bovine family of the phylum Chordata. That found in the gallbladder was called gall bezoar or egg-yellow bezoar; that formed in the bile duct was called duct bezoar; and that found in the hepatic duct was called liver bezoar.

Complete bezoar stones were generally oval in shape, light in weight, and golden yellow to yellowish brown on the surface, with a fine texture and lustrous sheen. Traditional Chinese medicine held that bezoar had a clean, fragrant scent, a slightly bitter taste followed by sweetness, and cooling properties. It could be used to reduce fever, eliminate toxins, and calm convulsions. Taken internally, it treated high fever, unconsciousness, mania, infantile convulsions, and spasms. Applied externally, it treated sore throats, mouth ulcers, abscesses, and uremia.

Since ancient times, there had been a saying among the common people: “Gold is easy to obtain; bezoar is hard to find.”

Because the slaughter of cattle was forbidden among the people in ancient times, bezoar was largely monopolized by the authorities, making privately held bezoar even more valuable. Along the road, Zhen Er had managed to barter for only seven or eight damaged pieces. He had come to the barren Urohu Tribe hoping to try his luck.

Pukun burst into laughter and ordered someone to bring over a wooden box, which he placed before Zhen Er.

“What do you think of these?”

Bezoar was also among the tribute goods that grassland tribes offered to the central imperial court. The pieces of superior quality displayed before Zhen Er made his entire body tremble.

Good heavens! He was rich!

The wooden box contained more than a dozen pieces, each as large as a fist. Their surfaces were golden yellow, glittering with a brilliance like gold itself. Zhen Er felt almost breathless with excitement.

“Excellent. We’ll take all of them. Here is the caravan’s inventory—please look it over, Chief.”

Gold, agate, and diamonds could certainly make money, but they were dead things, utterly incomparable to bezoar in value. Precious medicinal materials ranked first among the caravan’s trade goods, followed by furs, cattle, and sheep, with gold and silver coming last.

The reason the caravan needed cattle and sheep was not to transport them back to Great Tang for resale, but to use them as provisions along the trade route. It was impossible for a caravan to carry large quantities of food into the grasslands; doing so would be both foolish and uneconomical. The cheapest things on the grasslands were cattle and sheep. A single pound of tea bricks could be exchanged for a sheep, while ten pounds could buy a cow. The farther north one traveled, the more valuable tea bricks became and the cheaper cattle and sheep were.

Pukun held the inventory in his hand. The muscles in his cheeks twitched as his sidelong glance passed over Zhen Er and the guards beside him.

“Today, we will not discuss trade. The cattle, sheep, and maidens of the Urohu Tribe will wash away the weariness of your journey. Let us raise our voices and celebrate the arrival of our distant guests!”

Before long, platter after platter of fragrant beef and mutton was brought out, along with steaming bowls of fermented mare’s milk. The maidens of the Urohu Tribe, dressed in festive finery, sang and danced. Bonfires piled as high as hills illuminated half the night sky. Songs and the beat of leather drums echoed through the valley. For a time, the exhausted caravan forgot the dangers of the road and joined in the singing and laughter.

Zhen Er clutched a great chunk of mutton in one hand and drank sweet mare’s milk with the other, while two Urohu beauties lingered at his side. Many of the guards were tugged away by Urohu women and led into felt tents. Nearby, a Urohu warrior stood bare-chested. Having just displayed his strength, he circled the bonfire and let out one thunderous roar after another.

The guide leaned close to Zhen Er.

“Chief Zhen, the Urohu warriors wish to test their strength against your men. In the Urohu Tribe, only true warriors receive the respect and status they deserve. You must not let them underestimate the strength of the caravan.”

Wrestling meant fighting with bare hands and testing one’s physical strength. It was an activity in which people relied solely on their own power, without the aid of tools, to overcome the forces of nature. It was immensely popular across the grasslands and served as an important way of displaying a tribe’s strength. In a sense, it was one of humanity’s most primitive and earliest athletic contests, much like wrestling in later ages, though the rules differed.

Zhen Er naturally understood the implications. This was a war without smoke. If the caravan appeared too weak, it would not only fail to receive the respect it deserved—it might also awaken covetous thoughts among the tribesmen.

“Axiong! Go have a good match with the Urohu warrior. Win, and you’ll be rewarded. Lose, and you won’t eat tonight!”

Twenty feet away, a burly black-haired man rose to his feet. His features were sharply defined, with tiger eyes, a lion’s nose, a broad mouth, and a full beard covering his face. He grunted, shoved away an Urohu woman clinging to him, and strode toward the Urohu warrior. Like a solid wall, he blocked the view of everyone behind him.

The Urohu warrior’s pupils contracted, and he instinctively took several steps backward. Ancient wrestling had no weight classes; size and body weight offered an absolute advantage. The two men standing together looked like a giant beside a child. Before the match had even begun, the Urohu warrior had already lost the contest of spirit.

Pukun, standing nearby, widened his eyes in astonishment.

“He is one of your caravan’s guards?”

Zhen Er smiled and had the guide announce to the surrounding Urohu warriors:

“He is the caravan’s foremost warrior. The caravan is willing to offer a large jar of liquor as the prize for any Urohu warrior who defeats him!”

The Urohu warriors erupted in excitement. A single large jar of liquor could be exchanged for five cattle—a truly generous reward. Excited howls immediately rang out from the crowd.