Three Kingdoms: I rely on system loopholes to survive

Perhaps because Li Jue turned his attention to Hedong, Zhang Yan had some free time these days.

In addition to daily military training, he returned to his old job - recruiting followers.

Luoyang, Jizhou, Hebei... There are so many war-torn areas, and how many people have turned from civilians into mobs under the weapons?
With the Taihang Mountains behind him, Zhang Yan could detect many refugees entering the mountains every day, some seeking food, some becoming bandits, or just trying to save their lives.

At first, the deputy general suggested that they could recruit the available people among them as soldiers. Zhang Yan was tempted, but then he thought carefully. Most of these people were hungry and sick. Even if they were strong men, they could not go into battle immediately as new recruits, let alone these people?
Zhang Yan was born a bandit, and most of his men were refugees who became Yellow Turbans because they could not survive. If he really ignored these refugees, it would violate the teachings of the Yellow Turbans. Moreover, Zhang Yan came to Henei to expand his power and leave a way out for himself and Zhong Ping.

After thinking it over all night, Zhang Yan sent out an inconspicuous but most faithful lieutenant under his command, Zhong Huang Taiyi, and asked him to lead dozens of trustworthy people to preach among the refugees.

The more desperate people are, the more they are willing to believe in these illusory gods and ghosts.

In less than a month, the number of followers under the general named Erniu exceeded a thousand.

When Zhong Ping and Li Meng met Zhang Yan, Zhang Yan had just finished reading the secret letter sent by Erniu.

"Is the Grand Historian finally leaving Xudu?"

Zhang Yan stood up from behind the desk, her tone full of joy and emotion.

Zhong Ping rarely put aside those empty formalities and nodded with a smile: "I have escaped. Unless there are unexpected events, I will not enter Yanzhou again in the future."

"You said earlier that Zhang Xiu was a general under Li Jue." Zhong Ping chose a comfortable position and sat on the ground. "After that, when you fought against Li Jue again, did you feel that his military tactics were very unusual and his strategies were sinister?"

Zhang Yan nodded repeatedly: "That's right, Li Jue used some strategies, but most of them were superficial and not as good as using troops directly. Since Zhang Xiu surrendered, he has used strategies again, which are often hard to guard against, and I have suffered a great loss inadvertently."

Zhong Ping thought to himself that this was indeed the case. He was probably with Zhang Xiu when he left Chang'an that day, and the two of them were now both under Li Jue's command.

However... Zhong Ping was a little confused. Li Jue had many soldiers and generals, and he also had ruthless soldiers to help him. How come he couldn't capture Zhang Yan after so long?
It can't be that he let it go on purpose, right?
"besides……"

Zhang Yan looked at Li Meng who was standing behind Zhong Ping, and seemed to be hesitant to speak.

Li Meng decisively dodged and before leaving, he took off the knife from his waist and put it next to Zhong Ping.

Zhong Ping guessed that what Zhang Yan had not said was related to the Yellow Turbans, so he did not ask Li Meng to stay.

"The Grand Historian once told me that I could recruit the Yellow Turbans for my own use, but there were still spies in the army, and we were fighting with Li Jue, so we didn't have any manpower to act until a month ago."

Zhang Yan handed the secret letter to Zhong Ping and said, "There are already a thousand people joining the sect."

Zhong Ping took the letter and was about to read it when he suddenly felt something was wrong. He clearly asked Zhang Yan to recruit the Yellow Turbans in Hanoi for his own use, so how did it become a missionary work?
It’s bad. If this continues, I will become the leader of the Yellow Turbans.

Zhong Ping complained in his heart. After reading the numbers recorded in the secret letter, Zhong Ping couldn't help but be secretly surprised. Ever since he left Chang'an, it seemed that everywhere he looked were refugees.

"What are your plans?"

Zhong Ping asked seriously.

Zhang Yan was silent for a moment. He himself did not have an answer to this question: "For those who want to join the religion, I will preach the doctrine, lead them to worship Zhonghuang Taiyi, and give them food to eat... At least there must be a way to survive."

Zhong Ping also had a complicated expression when he heard this. In addition to sadness, he also had a hint of doubt: "So many refugees, are you providing food to feed them?"

"That's not it."

Zhang Yan shook his head. "Most of those who joined the sect on the first day were people who had been hungry for many days and had nowhere else to go. Regardless of whether they had food, millet, beans, grass roots or tree bark, they were all thrown into Huang Taiyi's clay pot during the sacrifice. We provided rice to fill the pot and cooked it into a thick porridge for these people to share."

"After these brothers have eaten their fill and regained their strength, they are divided into teams according to their physical conditions and do what they can, such as going into the mountains to hunt and pick fruits, or stalking the enemy to plunder, or guarding the camp... Everyone has something to do and food to eat."

“As for food, in the beginning the income was naturally insufficient to cover the expenditure. But as time went on, as more and more people joined the sect, there was a surplus. In the end, we could even save a lot for the public granary.” Zhong Ping felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity. He thought of Zhang Lu’s Five Pecks of Rice Sect at first, but when he thought about it carefully, he felt that there were still differences.

"This method was thought up by Master Zhang...Xianliang?"

Zhong Ping didn't think that this was the method proposed by Zhang Jue, otherwise the Yellow Turbans in history should not have been destroyed so early, but should have been as rampant and devastating as in this time and space.

"Exactly!"

When Zhang Niujiao was mentioned, Zhang Yan's eyes instantly lit up, full of admiration.

Zhong Ping was shocked when he thought of the "Taiping Jing" in Zhang Yan's hand.

He realized that when he was living alone in the small courtyard, some of the words and sentences he had written on the sand and then erased out of boredom, or spoken casually and pretended to be talking in his sleep, had been recorded by Zhang Niujiao one by one, verified and improved with the Taiping Dao believed in by the Yellow Turbans, and finally became the sutra that Zhang Yan followed and proclaimed at this time:

The people value the great virtues of their ancestors. We are all born of our parents, and our essence and blood are ours. We are naked and fill the world. There is no distinction between high and low. We eat the same food, wear the same clothes, and serve the same gods. We are brothers. Your parents are my parents; your children are my children.

If the land is not cultivated, there will be no crops; if wealth is not accumulated, there will be no food and clothing. Therefore, land comes from cultivation, and grain comes from cultivation; work comes from labor, and goods come from the market. Therefore, land should belong to those who cultivate the land; wealth and goods should be distributed equally to those who work. We should have land to cultivate, food to eat, clothes to wear, and money to use, so that there is no inequality and no one is left hungry or cold.

Zhong Ping licked his chapped lips and looked up at Zhang Yan: "To be honest, I have thought about whether the Yellow Turban Army should continue to exist. In the eyes of those governors, the Yellow Turbans are nothing more than a disgusting scab. Apart from contributing some military merits, there is nothing worth looking at."

"Sometimes, I wonder whether it is good or bad for the world for these people to come together as bandits and thieves."

Zhang Yan looked at Zhong Ping with burning eyes: "Doesn't the Grand Historian have the answer in his mind? From the beginning to the end, I have never heard the Grand Historian call the Yellow Turbans 'thieves', this is enough."

Zhong Ping was silent for a long time before he nodded: "I finally understood it. When it comes to survival, how can we distinguish between noble and humble, good and bad? The world has always belonged to everyone in the world, and the Yellow Turbans are made up of the largest number of people in the world."

At a certain moment, Zhong Ping figured out why Zhang Niu Jiao had to worship a god.

If there must be an authority in the hearts of this group of people, it is better to revere an illusory god rather than a young and distant emperor, the nobles sitting in the halls, and the officials who levy heavy taxes.

At least He is high enough to allow people to numb themselves and explain all suffering by saying they are not pious enough.

The Yellow Turbans only respect God and do not fear people.

Zhong Ping was glad that he came to Hanoi to meet Zhang Yan before going to Jingzhou. An unprecedented shocking idea came to his mind, but the method was too bloody and too cruel, and it only made a wave in his heart and was suppressed again.

Li Meng waited outside the tent for a long time, until the night chill penetrated his clothes, and then Zhong Ping walked out of Zhang Yan's tent.

When Zhong Ping opened the curtain, Li Meng saw Zhang Yan leaning over the desk, concentrating on reading something that seemed to be a scroll of silk book.

He didn't look closely, put the knife back on his waist, took some dry food, mounted his horse as hurriedly as he came, and followed Zhong Ping.

The nights in early spring are very quiet, with no birds singing or insects chirping.

Zhong Ping rode on the red horse, looking up at the outline of Taihang Mountains hidden in the darkness, and let out a muffled laugh from his throat. Then he seemed to feel that no one cared, and his tense body gradually relaxed.

He pulled the reins loosely, and the laughter became loud and unbridled, echoing between heaven and earth.

Li Meng couldn't understand the emotions contained in the laughter, nor could he see Zhong Ping's face.

He just sincerely hoped that he could laugh so freely and unconcealedly like this again in the future. Otherwise, if he kept his emotions suppressed for a long time, he would probably go crazy...

(End of this chapter)