The History of China - #59 - S&N 3: Buddhist Blades, Daoist Flames

Episode Date: March 30, 2015

Over the course of the 5th century, Buddhism had become the rising star within China, in spite of its foreign origins. That would run into direct conflict with China's own home-grown religion: Daoism. As the two co-mingled, some would accept both... but others, especially in Northern Wei, would use all the might to eradicate what they deemed to be a heretical foreign influence on their Chinese culture. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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on humanity flying in the face of the realities of the era, both the native Chinese religion, Taoism, and the imported beliefs of Buddhism from India had been on the rise in both the northern and southern empires. The rise of Buddhism had been, and continued to be, particularly meteoric since the arrival of the monk Kumarajiva and his translated sutras had found a home, for a time, in the later Qin's imperial court. From there, the teachings of Buddha had begun to spread like wildfire throughout virtually every level of society.

I say almost, because the ruling class, and particularly the emperors of both Liu Song in the south and Wei in the north, would resist the imported teachings in favor of more local philosophies. For some among the Chinese and northern tribes elite, the western teachings were a curiosity to be at times studied, ignored, or even emulated to an extent. But for others, the foreign ideas were dangerous, its practitioners untrustworthy, and its spread viewed as a cancer to be stamped out at any cost. And it's here that we'll pick up the story today. For his part, Emperor Wen of Liu Song didn't seem particularly concerned with the rise of Buddhism, but neither did he endorse

it. It's possible that his policy of keeping the Indian philosophy at arm's length had something to do with a rebellion against his rule in 432, when a disaffected leader in Sichuan had claimed, falsely it should be said, to be a long-lost descendant of the former Jin imperial clan, and then raised a force in rebellion, and all just before getting himself killed. Only to have a Buddhist monk step into the vacuum left by the rebel leader's death and claim that no, in fact, he was truly the long-lost Sima clansman, here to take back the Jin Dynasty and laid siege to Chengdu. Though the siege would be broken, the Buddhist monk turned, supposedly, Prince Sima of Shu, remained a regional threat

in Sichuan for a period of years before finally being captured and the rebellion put down. So that might have had something to do with One's coolness towards Buddhism. But it seems more that he simply wasn't all that interested in it. This is evidenced in 438 when he established a university in Nanjing consisting of four schools, Neo-Taoism, Confucianism, History, and Classical Literature. No Buddhism 101 to be had. Emperor One apparently just preferred Taoism and saw no particular need to change, which really isn't all that surprising. Just because the peasantry are adopting a practice doesn't mean that you, the emperor, should too. And especially when one's right to rule, i.e. the mandate of heaven, is loosely tied to the very Daoist idea of there being a

specific heaven with a particular jade emperor who decided who was worthy of the mantle. Until Buddhism could sinicize itself enough to work within the parameters of the monarch's divine right to rule, it makes sense that they'd be pretty slow to pick it up. Now, you might be thinking, but wait, haven't there been Buddhist emperors before now? I just so happen to be listening to episode 35, Reclamation, when he said Ming of Han was the first Chinese monarch to have adopted Buddhism. Indeed I did, and indeed he was. But his rationale for having done so is telling when trying to figure out why so many others after him hadn't followed suit. From the late 5th century Chinese Buddhist classic Mó Zè Lǐ Hǒu Lén, or Master

Most Treatise for the Removal of Doubts, the legendary tale of Ming's conversion goes, quote, In olden days, Emperor Ming saw in a dream a god whose body had the brilliance of a sun and who flew before his palace, and he rejoiced exceedingly at this. The next day he asked his officials, What god is this? The scholar Fu Yi said, Your subject has heard it is said that in India there is somebody who has attained the Tao and who is called Buddha.

He flies in the air. His body has the brilliance of the sun. This must be that god. End quote. So of course, Ming sends envoys to the far west to find this so-called Buddha who has achieved the Tao, and in return gets gifts of several sutras and two prominent monks of the era. But the takeaway is that it's his understanding of Buddha's divinity, that he had achieved the Tao, that allowed him to come to terms with the foreign religion in a way that he could understand and accept. It would take a long time before that understanding would become common among the Chinese ruling

elite, and would require entire new schools of thought that blended the two belief systems. Schools ultimately like Chan Buddhist thought, better known in the West by its Japanese name, Zen Buddhism, with its deep distrust of liturgy, chants, or even spoken language itself in favor of deep introspection and meditation on the divine. As taken from the opening couplet of the seminal work of Taoist thought, the Tao Te Ching, 道可道非常道,明可命非常明, meaning, the way that can be trodden is not the eternal way, just as the name that can be named is not the eternal name. But the birth of a truly Chinese-style Buddhist thought would be a trial by ordeal, and like any birthing process,

a labor of pain, blood, and deep sacrifice to give life and acceptance to this new entity. And nowhere would that be more true than in the north of China, because though one of Liu Song kept Buddhism at arm's length, he wasn't openly hostile to the idea. But his counterpart in northern Wei, Emperor Tai Wu, would wind up not nearly so tolerant to this strange foreign religion. And it wouldn't take too terribly much for him to decide that it was little more than a disease that he needed to root out from his empire altogether. Emperor Tai Wu had long been an ardent Taoist, and indeed had back in 423, as one of his first acts in office, proclaimed the founder and leader of the Way of the Northern Celestial Masters, one Kou Qianzhi, to be officially among

those Tian Shi, those Celestial Masters. Kou Qianzhi had since at least 415, during the reign of Tai Wu's father, Emperor Mingyuan, been essentially shouting at any and everyone who would listen that he had been appointed by Master Lao Tzu himself the divine task of reforming Taoism on earth and bringing about its ascendancy through the precepts for the new code of hymns from the clouds or recitation. And just prior to receiving his imperial approval from Tai Wu, he had declared that he had been ordered by the great-grand grandson of Lao Tzu, himself also an ascended celestial master,

to take his new scriptures and go assist the true lord of great peace from the north. Clearly, Kou Qianzhi knew that flattery would get you everywhere. That said, Kou had spent the bulk of his life in monastic seclusion, a practice he would codify within his own northern sect. But now that he was out of his cave and within the Wei Imperial Palace, he at least had the good sense enough to realize that he was out of his element, and quite possibly out of his league entirely. Thus, he would turn to a follower of his,

a more worldly and cunning disciple than himself, a man named Cui Hao. Master Ko asked of his disciple Cui, I was living in seclusion and practicing the way, not involved in world affairs, when suddenly I received divine instructions, to go assist the true lord of peace and perpetuate the way of rule that had been cut off for a thousand years. But I am not well versed in such ancient matters, and feel quite ignorant in the face of this task. Would you kindly write about the past ages and provide an encapsulating commentary? End quote. Sui Hao agreed, and wrote what amounted to 20 essays on the history of China to that point,

which, gee, sounds familiar. Through those essays, he and Master Ko reached a consensus as to their political opinions of the modern age, that the ancient legal, moral, and societal precedents of the Zhou Dynasty stood as the pinnacle of civilization, and must be restored in both the five ranks of nobility and the movement to actively sinicize the empire and cleanse it of foreign ideas. For his part, Emperor Taiwu had begun his reign with much the same religious policy as his father and grandfather, toleration for a wide swath of religions, and parallel support for Taoism, Confucianism, and yes, even the relatively

new addition, Buddhism. In fact, by some accounts, he may have initially actually preferred Buddhist rituals to those of Taoism. Historian Li Gong writes, He would, for example, invite eminent monks in order to discuss with them. On the eighth day of the fourth month, he used to mount the Buddha images on carriages and march them through the wide streets. The emperor would go personally to the gate tower to watch, and from there scatter flowers to show his reverence. In the year 425,

Emperor Taiwu ordered the performance of Buddhist rites for the celebration of his own birthday, and in the year 428, the emperor decreed that these rites be executed on his birthday in Buddhist temples all over the country. End quote. Over time, however, he seems to have been suitably taken in by Master Ko, and Sui Hao's brand of Taoism, and his eventual imperial sanction had the dual effect of instating Taoism as the official state religion, and with Master Ko as the way of Northern Celestial Master's absolute spiritual ruler. For comparison, one might view him as akin to the Roman Catholic Pope, the prime vicar of, and ultimate conduit to, the divine. This promotion was due in no small part to the machinations of Master Ko's most influential lobbyist, Cui Hao,

who, on his behalf, had successfully lobbied the Wei Emperor to officially endorse his title, grant his sect permission to proselytize throughout Wei, and granting the church, for lack of a better word, of the northern heavenly masters a huge stipend with which to expand itself. And eventually, Sui Hao would land the prestigious position of Prime Minister of Northern Wei, where he could further convince the emperor of the dangers Buddhist thought presented to his empire and the very idea of Chinese culture. It might sound strange or perhaps ludicrous to have the emperor of Northern Wei, himself a member of the Xianbei tribes, whom the ethnic Han Chinese of Liu Song would have

dismissed as an uncivilized brute on sheer principle, as some staunch defender of Chineseness. But it's important to remember that the five tribes had by this point been living in and alongside Chinese civilization for more than a century at this point. They had very consciously been sinicizing themselves and their traditions since their victory over the Western Jin Dynasty, taking on their customs, language, and beliefs, and let's not forget, occupied the most densely populated and ancient cultural centers of China at this point, including the entire Yellow River Valley, Chang'an, Luoyang, Yin City. Just about

every important imperial capital was under their control. In short, the peoples who had once been the mounted terrors of the northern steppes had become very Chinese indeed, and proudly so. One might compare them to the Germanic peoples who came to live under Roman rule, and eventually adopt Roman customs, language, and ultimately even Roman citizenship. It ought to be pointed out that Sui Hao was, while undoubtedly a fierce proponent of Taoism and the Celestial Masters, equally an outspoken enemy of Buddhism, which he repeatedly and fiercely viewed as a barbarian religion. He showed in no uncertain terms what he thought ought to happen to the Buddhists in what would

ultimately wind up as an official imperial edict he personally drafted in 446, proclaiming, We have received the heavenly line, and it has chanced amid the evils of exhausted fortune. We desire to remove the false, establish the true, and restore the rule of Fu Xi and Shen Nong, which I should say are respectively the traditional creator of humanity and the progenitor of the Han people, both of which were discussed in much more detail back in episode 1. Continuing the quote, though, We will completely shake off the barbarian gods and annihilate their vestiges, and thereby, we hope, have no occasion to beg forgiveness of the clan of Feng.

If, from now on, there be any who dare serve the barbarian gods, or make images or statues of them in clay or bronze, they shall be executed, End quote. And I should point out that the word Sramana literally means seekers, but in this case means Buddhist monk. In all human history, there are few stories like that of ancient Egypt. On the banks of the Nile, these people created one of the most enduring and significant cultures. Their tale comes to life in the History of Egypt podcast. Every week, we explore the tales of this amazing culture, from the legendary days of creation and the gods, all the way to Cleopatra, and everything in between. The History of Egypt podcast is written and produced by a trained Egyptologist. We go much deeper than your average documentary or magazine article, to uncover tales of life, great endeavours,

and the amazing arc of a mighty kingdom. The History of Egypt podcast is available on all podcasting platforms, apps, and websites. Come, visit ancient Egypt, and experience a legendary culture. In a vacuum, without the intervening details, it seems quite the extraordinary jump from simply being a Taoist to signing off on the extermination of all Buddhists, and earlier historians have often attributed this to a single specific event, the Gai Wu Rebellion of 445-446, that caused Tai Wu to write off the entirety of Buddhism and its followers as dangerous and requiring cleansing. But historian Li Gong argues that in fact it was not any single event, but the culmination of a long and deliberate series of sociopolitical changes

within the upper echelons of Wei's imperial government that would lead to the so-called First Disaster of Wu. He writes, Taewoo's anti-Buddhist stance was not an accident, but the outcome of a long-term, ongoing process. Already in the year 439, when he conquered northern Liang, he had been suspicious of the local Buddhist monks. In fact, that year, in order to quell the local Buddhist monks from getting further out of hand, Taibu had ordered the forced secularization of all monks under 50 within the Liang region.

Which is to say, he stripped them of their robes, kicked them out of their temples, and said, okay, go be farmers again. No more religion for you. In 442, Tai Wu took several rather extraordinary steps to show just how committed he was to this newly reinvigorated Dao. At the urgings of Master Ko, the Emperor of Northern Wei held a ceremony in which he ascended a platform and received several amulets and talismans of spiritual significance from the Taoist Pope, establishing a principle that would carry through the rest of Northern Wei's political life. The banners and flags of Northern Wei were changed as well, to blue, reflecting the Tao and heaven. And at last, the Northern Celestial

Master's branch of Taoism was declared the official and only state religion of Wei, codifying what had already been a de facto reality. Tai Wu also began work on the Jinglun Palace, a castle designed to be so tall as to almost reach heaven itself, and quiet enough to facilitate meditation and introspection. Several Buddhists, most prominently his own crown prince Huang, opposed the opulent palace's construction on the grounds of its enormous expense, but such concerns were dismissed. After all, if studying Chinese history teaches us anything, it's that building lavish, unaffordable palaces never leads to any bad consequences ever. Right.

Okay, so as for Buddhists themselves, if you know anything about them at all, you probably know that they are not well-disposed to be a very violent bunch. Most, if not all, practicing Buddhists are either vegetarian or outright vegan, because they view killing as unequivocally wrong. As might we all, if we all believed that we were bound to live and die and live and die infinitely as all kinds of different creatures. That steak you're eating might someday be you, after all. Jain Buddhists, as a particularly notable example, are famous for going so far as to

wear breath masks when they pray so that they don't inhale any microorganisms and kill them while doing so. Of course, there are exceptions, as there are in every religion. Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all revere the Ten Commandments, and number six seems pretty straightforward, doesn't it? Thou shalt not kill. Yet holy wars and killing in the name of God abound within Christendom and the West. The Catholic Church directly authorized the Crusades. Heck, in the First World War, the Pope sanctioned military service and breaking the Sixth Commandment in the name of nationalism. There are always exceptions. And Buddhism, too, has had its fair share of exceptions to its own no-kill clause. China, Japan, Mongolia, Thailand,

Cambodia, Vietnam, all heavily Buddhist nations, and all have slaughtered countless people in spite of, and in some cases because of, those spiritual convictions. Regardless of creed, religious tenets are at times all too easy to set aside in the name of political expedience, belief in an even higher calling or truth, or simple callous indifference. So it wasn't completely out of left field that Tai Wu had more and more begun to view practitioners of Buddhism as untrustworthy and even potentially dangerous. Certainly with Cui Hao continuing to whisper in his ear, it must have been easy enough to begin jumping at shadows. And all over China, Buddhist monks had time and again taken up arms in rebellion against their monarchs, oftentimes for reasons as silly as the people not having enough food.

The final straw against Buddhism in Northern Wei, however, would come in late 445, when a rebellion broke out in and around Xing City, in what is today Yan'an, Shanxi. There are two things to keep in mind for the outset of this rebellion. The first is that the Shanxi region had been the resettlement location of the Xiongnu tribes, and as such, there remained a significant population of them in the area. It was basically their home base at this point. And the second thing is that by the 440s, there was little love to be lost between the Xiongnu and the ruling Tuoba Xianbei, especially after the destruction of the Xiongnu-controlled Xia Kingdom in 431, and Tai

Wu's personal mission to purge his kingdom of the Xiongnu following Bai Long's rebellion in 434. Suffice it to say, the two tribes weren't not exactly BFFs at this point. Given all that, it's not altogether that surprising that yet another rebellion would eventually have broken out in the region. This region where the once mighty but still proud Xiongnu were now lorded over by the Xianbei. That rebellion, what would ultimately become the lit fuse on a powder keg under the entire Buddhist system of belief within Northern Wei, would be started by a figure

known as Gai Wu. And it's interesting, because for someone as historically important as he is to this era, we seem to know almost nothing about him. I mean, I've already given you just about all the information that seems to exist on the guy. He was Xiongnu. He was from Shanxi. He started a rebellion. Pretty much that's the end. If you happen to know of a more complete biography, please drop me a line and let me know. Because I already know that for me personally, this is going to be a little mind virus in my head unless I can get a more complete picture of the man who would ignite, or at the very least serve as a pretext for igniting, the views underneath Northern Chinese Buddhism in the 5th century. Gai Wu was joined not only by his fellow Xiongnu clansmen,

but by large numbers of the remaining Han population surrounding Chang'an, who were as unhappy with the Xianbei being in charge as the Xiongnu, an enemy-of-my-enemy kind of situation if ever there was one. Local attempts to stamp out Guy's rebellion foundered as more and more of the populace rallied to his cause, and by late 445 or early 446, he had claimed the title of the Prince of Tiantai, this blatant effrontery to his imperial authority, of course to the attention of Emperor Taiwu. In an early spring 446,

he mobilized his imperial army against the rebel faction. As with virtually every other small, local, peasant rebellion of the era, once the imperial army got involved, Gaiwu's revolt was crushed, and it seems easily so. After all, it couldn't have possibly given the Imperial Army much trouble to put down if it was over in less than a year, and its insurrections leader is typically mentioned only as a footnote. Gai's lieutenant was defeated in short order, and the rebel leader himself forced to flee into the

mountains and abandon the cities he had claimed. Emperor Taiwu personally led his army, and they entered the ancient capital city of Chang'an. Now, it's not entirely clear whether or not Chang'an had declared itself in rebellion along with Gaiwu's main force, but it is clear that Taiwu had his suspicions at the very least. He ordered the city searched for signs that the population might be a part of, or thinking of joining, the rebel leader, and what was turned up seemed to affirm his darkest fears. Within one of Chang'an's Buddhist monasteries, Wei soldiers uncovered a hidden cache of weapons, reportedly stacks of bows, arrows, spears, and shields. From a historical vantage point, there remains considerable debate about

whether these weapons were indeed meant for Gai Wu and his rebels, or possibly for some other unrelated purpose. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time monks may have needed to take up arms, after all. But for Emperor Tai Wu, there was no doubt. This weapon cache was clear, undeniable evidence that the followers of Buddhism had turned their back on his rule and pledged themselves against him with arms. Historian Li Gong writes, The monks of Chang'an were clearly not only in rebellion against him, but against the very order of heaven itself and even their own professed faith. He ordered the lot of them exterminated at once,

along with the destruction of all Buddhist images within the city and imperial confiscation of all Buddhist property. A second proclamation demanded that all monks currently being sheltered by private individuals be given up to the government by a specified date, and that, A second proclamation demanded that all monks currently being sheltered by private individuals be given up to the government by a specified date, and that, quote, "...if anyone harbors them, their whole family will be executed." End quote. Emperor Taiwu had reached the very edge of a moral event horizon, which is a point that

once crossed, there's no going back. Killing the possibly rebellious monks of a single city was one thing. One might even argue it justifiable. But it would be here, as Tai Wu teetered between harsh justice and wanton brutality, that Prime Minister Cui Hao would push him over the edge. Cui told the emperor something to the effect of, yes, the monks of Chang'an were in rebellion and deserved to die, but they're just a symptom of the larger problem, that foreign barbarian religion as a whole. As long as you allow those treacherous Buddhists to live in your kingdom at all, you'll constantly be having to watch your back, and you'll constantly be stamping out their rebellions against you. Cui Hao managed to convince the emperor that it was not just this rebellion,

but all prior rebellions, disasters, and shortfalls during his reign had all been a part of a vast Buddhist conspiracy against him and his state. For the better part of a decade, Master Kou and Prime Minister Cui had been twisting the emperor's ear against their rival faith, and in 446, their machinations bore its terrible fruit. A month after ordering the extermination of Chang'an's monks, another imperial edict was promulgated, the one written in Cui Hao's hand that we quoted earlier in the episode, the one condemning all Buddhists throughout Northern Wei to death. This edict of Mie Fo, or eradication of Buddhism, would come to be known as the first great disaster of Wu. But that critical month between the slaughter at Chang'an and the genocide that was to

follow would prove critical for the long-term outlook of Buddhism in northern China and many of the religion's practitioners, holy texts, and sacred items. Because as I mentioned before, the crown Prince Tuoba Huang was a devout Buddhist and pleaded with his father against such an insanely murderous course of action. Two or three times he would gain an audience with his father and attempt to make him change his mind, but was time and again brushed aside by his father's wrath and his prime minister's cunning. And so, clearly unable to stem the coming slaughter, Crown Prince Huang used his considerable authority to minimize the damage.

Using the partial control he had over the machinery of government, which had been transferred to him piecemeal over the course of the previous decade, he was able to delay the promulgation of the genocidal edict, while at the same time leaking its details to the public at large. Doom was coming for the Buddhists, and all those who value their lives, their icons, and their sutras would do well to be far, far away when that storm hit Northern Wei. The Book of Wei tells of the outcome of the crown prince's effort to spare what he could of Northern China's Buddhists. Quote, Of the gold, silver, treasure, and images, much could be concealed. But buildings and

reliquaries, wherever the proclamation reached, were completely destroyed. End quote. Though there were more than a few monks caught and killed following the implementation of the law, the Crown Prince's efforts to delay and warn them ahead of time meant that the majority of Wei's Buddhist monks were able to escape the carnage and wait out this prohibition on their faith. Tai Wu and Cui Hao's campaign to eradicate Buddhism in Wei was certainly every bit the disaster it was named to be. But thanks to the efforts of Tai Wu's own son and heir, it was not the total extermination Cui had so fervently desired. And indeed, thanks to the leaking of the edict prior to its implementation, Buddhism was poised to spring back into Northern Wei rapidly following a change in its imperial leadership and the repeal

of its anti-Buddhist laws. The first piece of the Taoist triumvirate to topple would be the Northern Celestial Master himself, Kou Qianzhi, who had made it to the year 448 in the age of 83 before finally joining his fellow celestial masters in heaven, in what appeared to be, surprisingly enough,

a natural death. The second member to fall would be considerably more mysterious in the circumstances of his death, and remains to this day something of a historical question mark, Prime Minister Cui Hao. Cui had become one of, if not the, most trusted and honored servants of the Northern Wei Emperor, and so it was quite surprising when Taibu ordered his execution in 450, along with his entire clan. The official

version of Cui Hao's fall from grace is that he, along with another court official named Gao Yun, had carved a series of three-stone tablets detailing the history of the Touba imperial family and then had them erected outside Ping City, next to the Altars of Heaven. But the histories detailed on the tablets apparently had not been sanctioned by the ruling clan, and many sordid details of their past that could be potentially seen as damaging or defaming to their rule and the state of Wei itself. It would not do, for instance, to reveal that Emperor Daowu had turned traitor against his own father and sold him out to former Qin.

Yeah, that's not something you want on a giant stone tablet outside your cities. As such, both Gao and Cui were arrested and faced death. But, at the insistence of Crown Prince Huang, Gao Yun would be spared, while Cui Hao would receive his ultimate penalty. But for many historians, that explanation seems thin. Like there must be more to it than that. Surely Cui, a master player of court politics, wouldn't have been so stupid as to make such a literally colossal mistake like that. And so speculation has swirled around his death ever since. One such theory is that he was the victim of a Buddhist's plot. Another posits that he was found to be plotting a coup alongside Han citizens. But one of the more prominent and

believable theories, as put forth by the 20th century Taiwanese historian Guo Dingsheng via his pen name Bo Yang, revolves around a far more personal vendetta – the relationship between Cui Hao and the Crown Prince himself. After all, the two were not likely to have ever been great friends. Prince Huang was an ardent Buddhist, while Cui Hao had done everything in his power to exterminate the religion from Wei entirely, only to be stymied by the crown prince's own efforts against him. Surely, theirs was an acrimonious relationship.

That hostility seems to have boiled over in 450, when Cui Hao recommended, rather adamantly it seems, that a large number of his personal friends and clients, most of whom were quite young, be elevated to the relatively high rank of prefectural governor. The crown prince opposed this sort of upjumping, and instead recommended to his father that, however talented these men might be, it was still far more prudent to give them lower positions first and then promote them over time. The governorships should clearly go to more experienced, tested officials before these

greenhorns. But Cui insisted, and in the end got his way. The governorships would go to his candidates, prompting commentary from his fellow minister, Gao Yun, quote, It will be difficult for Cui to avoid disaster. How can he afford to oppose those more powerful than he, merely to satisfy his own desires? End quote. And indeed, once the whole tablet incident played out, it would be the crown prince who saved Gao, but remained notably silent as Cui Hao's own death sentence was proclaimed. Cui would be publicly executed, along with everyone surnamed Cui in his home region,

Qinghe, as well as the Lu clan of Fanyang, the Guo clan of Faiyuan, and the Liu clan of Hedong, all of which had extensive ties to Cui Hao's own doomed family. The ultimate fate of Emperor Taiwu, as well as his heir Crown Prince Huang, are intricately bound together. The Crown Prince would make another powerful enemy in the form of one of the palace eunuchs, Zong Ai, who had recently been promoted to the Duke of Qing for unknown reasons. Duke Zong and Crown Prince Huang came into conflict, with the imperial heir viewing the eunuch as corrupt and power-hungry.

Proving the Crown Prince right, Zonghai responded by acting against the prince's power base preemptively, accusing two of the prince's close and trusted advisors of major crimes against the state. The two accused were summarily executed by the emperor, and the ensuing investigation dragged many more of the crown prince's associates into its web and their deaths, usually only based on suspicion and rumor rather than any real evidence. The crown prince himself, though he would ultimately be exonerated, grew so worried that he might be next that he actually took ill in the summer of 451 and died at the age of only 23. The death of the crown prince will drag Northern Wei into a succession crisis,

one orchestrated in large part by the nefarious eunuch Zong Ai himself, but while the court politics in Shengle will continue to play out to another violent conclusion, the relationship between Northern Wei and Liu Song will once again devolve into bloody conflict over who would control the middle reaches of the Yellow River. And in the end, both emperors of China would meet their own violent deaths at the hands of assassins, ending their dual reigns of stability and detente and throwing both of their empires into spasms of internal chaos and political flux. All that and more, next time. Thank you for listening. The French Revolution set Europe ablaze. It was an age of enlightenment and progress,

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