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In Pursuit of the Xia-Ding - Part V
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The victorious Tang soldiers feasted well the following day, their spoils of war more than just food and drink. Hanwu’s many widows and vast hoards of gold became ripe for the taking as well, as the men satisfied their greed and hunger. Tang Min and his son, Tang Jian, were not at all interested in the spoils of war, however, and promptly searched the city’s many temples and shrines for the bronze vessel of power.

Three of the city’s temples had been looted and burned, their contents lost among the smoldering ashes. Others were spared but were quickly emptied of any valuables as the Hanwu people fled. But Tang Min knew that the vessel would not easily be moved, and continued his search clear into the palace. Inside, many cowering officials and concubines of the deceased Nán of Han, slain on the battlefield by Tang Jian, began to beg for Min’s protection. Min would dismiss many of them, sending them out of the palace and into the smokey chaos of Hanwu. Others would be spared this death sentence, the prettiest of the concubines were selected for Jian while the most capable ministers were taken to aid in the construction of the growing confederacy.

Tang Min searched the palace high and low, his desperation to find the Xia-Ding growing with each passing moment. As the hours went by, his hair became frazzled from constant yanks of frustration, and his proud walk became one of a disturbed lunatic. “Where is the Xia-Ding?!” Cried Min, grasping one of the capable ministers chosen to live. “One is here! I know it is!”

The minister’s mouth fell open, his face contorting with fear. He lifted a shaky finger towards one of the towering pagodas outside. “Th-there, Tang Min Gōng, oh gracious and most noble lord.”

Min’s face lit up, his hope reigniting once more as he made for the pagoda. Once there, he found that its interior was filled with smoke. Outside, two city blocks burned red hot in the aftermath of the attack. At the pagoda’s center rested an ancient ding gone green with age. Could it be?” Tang Min approached the vessel, his hands shaking as he searched it over for the Meng insignia. There, etched on the leg furthest from him was the soaring rooster of the Meng Dynasty.

Tang Min collapsed next to the vessel, relief washing over him. He clutched one of the two carved handles, the two tiger heads on each side of the handle gently caressing the edges of his hand. Resting his head against it, Min could feel its primordial power flowing through him. At long last, two of the Imperial Xia-Dings were his.

Suddenly, a gust of heat burst through the western wall of the pagoda, falling timbers sending embers and ash everywhere as the fire reached the structure. “No…” Tang Min said, clambering to his feet. “I won’t lose this!” He went outside, calling for his men to come to the vessel’s rescue. Twenty men answered his call and rushed into the burning building, each one attempting to grab some part of the Xia-Ding. Min watched anxiously from outside as the men quickly brought it out of the pagoda, carrying it for some time in turns towards the palace.

Victorious in more ways than one, Tang Min sat down within the main hall of the Hanwu palace. Cleaned up and refreshed, he wrote of his successes in capturing Hanwu and in securing the Han held Xia-Ding, eventually sealing his letter before having it sent with all due haste to Chancellor Guo in Li. The confederacy had grown, and with its growth came the validation of its rule.