The Allure of the Mangdang Hunting Grounds

Nestled between rolling hills and the Fengze wetlands, the Mangdang Mountains served as the premier hunting destination for the elite of China’s Warring States period (475–221 BCE). This sprawling landscape—where dense forests met vast grasslands—provided ideal terrain for both wildlife and the noble pursuit of the hunt. Two creatures made this region legendary: the jun (a swift, antlerless deer-like creature) and the “four-not-like” (simalu or milu deer), whose unique appearance—resembling aspects of deer, horse, donkey, and ox—and purported medicinal properties made them prized quarry.

For King Hui of Wei (r. 369–319 BCE), hosting a grand hunt here during the Six-State Alliance summit was more than sport; it was a calculated display of wealth and authority. As the most powerful ruler among the coalition, he sought to awe his peers through opulence—his jewel-encrusted chariot and legendary collection of luminous pearls (each said to illuminate twelve chariots at night) embodied his vision of kingship: rulers should shine like “towering peaks,” commanding reverence through magnificence rather than mere military might.

The Theater of Power: A Day at the Hunt

The morning unfolded with martial splendor—10,000 Wei troops (3,000 cavalry and 7,000 infantry) fanned across the terrain, their drums and banners transforming the hunt into a military spectacle. King Hui, clad in armor and wielding a longbow, led the procession in his custom chariot, followed by his favored consort Hu Ji in an open carriage designed to showcase her beauty. The deliberate staging reflected his belief that visible grandeur solidified dominance.

A pivotal moment came when King Hui expertly shot a simalu, prompting roaring acclaim from his troops. Yet the political subtext emerged when King Zhao of Zhao (r. 374–350 BCE) outperformed him in chasing down a jun, showcasing superior horsemanship. This friendly rivalry masked deeper tensions—Zhao subtly pressured Wei to mobilize troops against Qin, revealing how the hunt served as a diplomatic battleground.

Clash of Philosophies: Wealth vs. Talent

The gathering’s most revealing exchange occurred during a break, when King Wei of Qi (r. 356–320 BCE) dismantled King Hui’s materialism. As Wei boasted of his pearls and gold-embroidered cloaks, Qi countered:

“A nation’s true treasures are its talents. General Tang Zi secures our southern borders, Tian Pan guards the west, and Qian Fu governs the north—these men illuminate our state brighter than any jewel.”

This rebuke, met with cheers from Qi’s soldiers, exposed a fundamental divide: Wei’s king measured strength in objects, while Qi valued human capital. The moment foreshadowed Qi’s eventual rise under King Wei’s meritocratic policies, including the famed Jixia Academy that attracted China’s finest minds.

Legacy of the Hunt: Symbolism and Decline

The Fengze hunt’s aftermath proved prophetic. King Hui’s preoccupation with display over governance weakened Wei—his dismissal of Chancellor Gongshu Cuo’s deathbed advice (to either promote reformer Shang Yang or execute him) allowed Qin to recruit the statesman, catalyzing its rise. Meanwhile, Qi’s investment in talent laid foundations for its later victories, including the 341 BCE Battle of Maling where Sun Bin outmaneuvered Wei’s forces.

Archaeological finds—such as bronze chariot fittings from Liang (Wei’s capital) and bamboo slips detailing Qi’s administrative reforms—validate these accounts. The hunt endures as a metaphor for Warring States power dynamics, where symbolism and substance collided, determining which kingdoms would flourish or fade.

Modern Reflections: Leadership Lessons from Antiquity

Today, the Fengze episode resonates in discussions of leadership priorities. King Hui’s pearls—like modern GDP obsessions—proved hollow without institutional strength, while Qi’s focus on education and governance mirrors nations thriving through human development. As historian Mark Edward Lewis notes, “The Warring States tested whether power flowed from gold or governance—a lesson echoing through millennia.”

The sunlit grasslands of Fengze, once alive with chariots and ambition, now remind us that enduring legacies are built not on glittering trophies, but on the wisdom to recognize a civilization’s true treasures.