Luo Xianzhi quietly waited for Xiao Yan to make his final decision.
He remained perfectly composed and unhurried, seemingly entirely unaware that he had presented Xiao Yan with a tremendous problem.
What should a competent ruler do?
Naturally, he should choose without hesitation to strike at religious forces, stripping wealth from a group with little ability to resist. Luo Youzhi had probably foreseen this day when he first allowed them free rein.
If Xiao Yan was unwilling, Luo Xianzhi did not mind. He would simply find another group to strip of its wealth, leaving those monks and Daoists to be dealt with later.
Xiao Yan was already getting on in years, and he had spent much of his time campaigning away from home. Luo Xianzhi reckoned that he was probably nearing the end of his life.
Once Xiao Yan died, he would move against those monks and Daoists of Liang State who were religious figures in name but great landowners in reality.
Xiao Yan hesitated for a long time.
Had he been young, he would have chosen to strike at religion without hesitation.
But now his temples had turned gray, and the wrinkles on his face were growing ever more numerous.
A person in youth and that same person in old age were two different people. With age, their temperament would change dramatically. They would become stubborn to the point of obstinacy, transforming from someone bold and enterprising in youth into a hidebound conservative.
Most frightening of all, people could not recognize this change in themselves.
When their grandparents' and parents' generations had rejected their interests, they had thought those elders stubborn.
When they themselves began rejecting the interests of their children's and grandchildren's generations, they believed it was the younger generations who did not understand what was right.
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