Pathway to Japanese Literature

Overture: The 108 Stars; Destined for the Mortal Realm The time was nine hundred years past.—The loess continent of Zhonghua was called the Great Song Nation; its capital established at Kaifeng Dongjing in Henan Province; while successive emperors' legacy had passed to their fourth ruler—Emperor Renzong.

It was the third day of the third month of Jiayou 3. The Son of Heaven appeared in the Purple Effulgence Hall and on this day graciously received the morning congratulations from the court nobles and officials. And now, as the ceremony concluded amidst the celestial music of the court orchestra and ten thousand cheers filling the hall, it was precisely when the august figure in dragon-embroidered robes—alongside jade hairpins of those seated in attendance and floral crowns of courtiers—appeared about to rise from the pearl-inlaid chair.

“Ah, Your Majesty.” “A moment, if it please Your Majesty—”

Prime Minister Zhao Zhe and Counselor Wen Yanbo—the two who had stepped out from the ranks—prostrated themselves before the imperial throne and petitioned. “We humbly beseech Your Majesty—since ancient times, today’s Shangsi Festival has been ordained as a day when officials and commoners alike purify themselves in peach blossom streams, cast aside distinctions, share harmonious joy, and revel greatly.” “We humbly pray that on this auspicious day, were Your Majesty to demonstrate the fruits of benevolent governance even to the lowly, the glory of the Song dynasty would endure for ten thousand generations—or so it is believed.”

Emperor Renzong abruptly made a peculiar expression.

“What.”

“On such a fine day as this, are you saying the people cannot enjoy anything?”

“Therefore…” The two men prostrated themselves nine times again. “These past few years, the harvests of the five grains have been unsatisfactory. Moreover, this spring, a malignant epidemic has spread throughout the realm; both Jiangnan and Jiangbei, as well as the Eastern and Western Capitals, are buried in the stench of disease. Households are filled with hunger; corpses of the sick are abandoned on the roads and left unattended; nights are spent quaking in fear of bandit hordes—such is the state of affairs.”

“Hmm.” “Is it truly so dire?” “Thus, officials such as Inspector Bao of the Capital Police encourage the medical officers of the Bureau of Medicinal Distribution and even devote their own salaries to desperate relief efforts—yet they cannot overcome the rampant spread of dysentery. “At this rate, it is feared that half of humanity will perish.”

“That is a grave matter indeed. We must immediately command all temples under heaven to perform grand prayers.”

Whether it be national calamity or personal turmoil, whenever matters escalated into major crises, this immediate reliance on incantations and prayers was a custom entirely identical to that of the Fujiwara-era nobility in our own court. Or rather—it could only be said this reflected the human intellect of that age: approaching civilized society yet still far removed from true civilization. The journey to Jiangxi was long. Yet it was mid-spring—a pleasant season for travel. Imperial Guard General Hong Xin departed Dongjing's capital gates with a massive retinue of subordinates and carriages, traversing day after day until reaching Xinzhou County in Jiangxi.

“The Imperial Envoy has arrived.” “Do not be negligent!”

From the governor down to minor officials, local soldiers, and even the men and women, monks and laypeople of the region—they all lined the streets to welcome General Hong.

Needless to say, the banquet that night was grand.

The tendency of local officials to curry favor with central dignitaries remained unchanged from past to present. Especially since he was the Imperial Envoy bearing the vermilion-paper edict, the county officials devoted their utmost efforts to hospitality. However, Hong Xin was true to his reputation as a military man. He was magnanimous and open-hearted. Moreover, being accustomed to imperial banquets and weary of the silver platters and jade cups of the city, no hospitality—however grand—could astonish his tongue or eyes.

“Now now—set down those cups! You needn’t keep pressing wine on me! This journey bears grave imperial duties for me too! You’ve surely seen the edict I dispatched ahead by courier?”

"We have duly reviewed it," said the governor, suddenly adopting a deferential manner. "As the intent of the Imperial Decree was promptly conveyed to Shangqing Temple deep within this region at Longhu Mountain, all preparations have been made and await your pious retreat."

“I see.” “Then tonight I shall observe ritual purity, bathe at dawn tomorrow, and ascend to Shangqing Temple.” “You wretches—withdraw immediately!”

The next day, Hong departed the inn at dawn and headed toward the great southwestern peak—eighty li (six chō to a li) from the prefectural gate. Behind the guiding prefectural officials, he was rocked along in a mountain palanquin, his hundred cavalrymen holding aloft imperial envoy banners.

The Longhu Mountain area was, since ancient times, the great headquarters of Taoism that gathered faith from across the nation.

Since the Tang Dynasty, successive dynasties had devoted themselves deeply to its teachings, and imperial edict plaques had been venerated even in its vermilion pavilions. In the valley's sky, moss-covered stone bridges were visible, and deep within the overlapping mountains, a thirteen-story pagoda loomed hazily. Moreover, the walled compounds and immortal halls where Taoist priests resided spread across peaks and valleys, while the yellow and white blossoms adorning the pines and cypresses might well have formed gardens where monkeys and cranes frolicked—or so one could imagine.

Now then, on that day, this sacred realm suddenly stirred as if awakening, and from a bell tower on the mountain, the sound of a bell resounded. The trees showered down fragrant dew; the cranes in the garden flapped their wings; all the mountain's birds and beasts cried out in startled unison. Upon looking, one could see processions stretching from Sanqing Palace to the Great Stone Bridge—the temple abbot and senior masters, Taoist priests, acolytes, temple guards, and others—moving like colorful mist, swirling incense and resounding with golden bells and small drums as they solemnly welcomed Imperial Envoy General Hong to the immortal hall.

“This is most ceremonious.”

Hong gave a deep nod of acknowledgment and entered the immortal hall. After briskly drinking a cup of transcendent tea that defied mortal description, he promptly conveyed the imperial decree's intent to the temple abbot. "During the recent Shangsi Festival," "Our Emperor Renzong learned of the ceaseless epidemics ravaging the realm and found his imperial heart sorely troubled." "Therefore, that very day saw a grand amnesty declared, medicine-distribution huts erected at every crossroads, and furthermore—this humble subject Hong Xin dispatched to this distant mountain to entreat Celestial Master Xu Jing for prayers to subdue these plague demons." "You already understand the required rites."

“We humbly acknowledge.” “The Imperial Edict of Supplication had been placed within this brocade pouch and carried against this subject Hong Xin’s chest. I must promptly meet with Longhu Mountain’s Great Immortal, Celestial Master Xu Jing, to deliver it—where might the Celestial Master reside?” “The Great Immortal does not dwell here. Disdaining even the worldly dust of this place, beyond where Longhu Mountain’s peaks culminate, he built a solitary thatched hermitage where he devotes himself solely to immortal Taoist practice, free from all worldly concerns.”

“Then must I climb all that way to meet the Celestial Master?” “Only the envoy himself may go...and only after completing purification rites.” “How inconvenient.” “Though this bears imperial authority...” “Even for an Imperial Envoy, the sacred mountain’s laws cannot be bent.” “Since Emperor Renzong—to relieve his people’s suffering—humbly seeks the Great Immortal’s prayers on their behalf, surely Your Lordship would find such a minor period of discipline no great burden when acting as his proxy.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth—who said anything about it being troublesome? It was merely that I found it inconvenient. Very well. After a day of purification tomorrow, I alone shall proceed to the Celestial Master’s immortal abode.” His spirit blazed with vigor. That morning beneath the stars, he performed cold-water ablutions, donned a white hemp purification robe, and slung a yellow cloth bundle diagonally across his back—within it lay the imperial brush-written supplication edict. With a silver-handled incense burner in one hand, periodically burning incense while chanting “Six Roots Purified,” bearing no blade upon his person and relying solely on a whitewood mountain staff, he departed Shangqing Palace amidst a throng of seeing-off Taoist priests.

But even a man as formidable as General Hong of the Forbidden Gate Army found himself utterly spent in the mountains beyond that point. The first night saw him sleeping with a valley stream at the tree sea's depths for his pillow; the second found his body laid upon a sky-piercing peak shaped like an axe blade. Moreover, the thousand peaks ahead remained treacherously steep. When rains came, deep valley echoes and water roars would rise anew until he could no longer tell day from night. Harried by monkeys and pursued by wolves sniffing at his heels, his only recourse was to seek out vine-entangled guideposts and cling to their uncertain path. No sooner had he struggled free from the primeval forest than a gasp-worthy cliff loomed before him—detour around it and waterfall spray would blast him back; attempt ascent and jagged monoliths stared down from above.

Not only that—he encountered a massive male and female tiger pair, nearly becoming their prey; lost his courage at the sight of an otherworldly serpent's glimmering scales that defied earthly reason; and each time fled in mindless panic. Before he knew it, neither staff nor incense burner remained in his hands. Clutching his solitary life as precious, he could barely manage a staggering crawl.

"Hmm... I hear the sound of an iron flute?"

On what must have been the third or fourth day, he found himself still on his journey. For the first time, he caught the scent of humans.

“Hey, old-timer, where you headed?”

The child was the one who called out. The child sat sideways on the back of a cow. In his hand was held the iron flute whose sound had been audible since earlier. “And you, kid—where did you come from?” “From the Central Temple up ahead.”

“Central Temple.” “The Sanqing Palace where you stayed is the Foot Temple, this peak is the Central Temple, and waaay up in the heavens is the Inner Temple. …But old-timer, even if you struggle all the way up there, it’s pointless.” “Why?” “The Celestial Master isn’t here, you see.”

“He’s not here?...” “...That can’t be.” “He isn’t here.” “I’m not lying.” “He left ten days back, riding a crane to the capital.” “There’s some awful plague going round, so the emperor asked the big Taoist temple’s Celestial Master for purification prayers.” “Bet he couldn’t be bothered, so he just hopped on his crane and flew off to Kaifeng’s skies.”

“Hmm. How do you know such a thing?”

“Of course I know.” “Even if I look like this, I’m not just some village grass-cutting kid.” “I’m an attendant serving the Celestial Master.”

“Ah, so that’s how it is,” Hong Xin concluded. “Then guide me there.” “Please,” he entreated, “I beg you.” “You’re so suspicious,” retorted the child. “I already told you he’s not here! If you keep dawdling like this, you’ll end up as food for tigers or giant snakes. Hurry back now, old-timer.” The child bestowed a pitying smile and departed without a backward glance.

Half-convinced and half-doubting, Hong continued on—and indeed, this area still lay around the seventh or eighth station of Longhu Mountain's ascent. Centered around the soaring ancient pagoda, a complex of temple halls and monastic buildings came into view, towering imposingly before him. Dragging his feet, he arrived to find "Would you be General Hong?" —arhat-like Taoist priests and an elderly master with an immortal's bearing (a teacher of Taoists) emerging from the gate to welcome him, offering profound courtesy and solicitous care. This reception was proper enough, but his hopes of revival were immediately dashed.

The elderly Taoist master here also said.

“It was most regrettable indeed. We ourselves have only just learned of this matter—that the Celestial Master of the mountain heights has already departed.” “Then it’s entirely true?”

“Rather than whether it was falsehood or truth, might Your Excellency have noticed something along your journey?” “I did meet a child riding an ox, but—”

“Ah. That was most regrettable on your part.”

“Huh? What do you mean by ‘regrettable’?”

“That child must have been none other than the Celestial Master’s divine incarnation.” “What?! That was him?!” “Though you made the Imperial Envoy waste his efforts, he must have thought it pitiful, and in an instant flew here from the capital to admonish you: ‘Return swiftly.’” “Ah….” “I didn’t realize that.”

"But well... "Rest assured. "Since there has been such divine manifestation through this revelation - by Your Excellency's return to the capital - through Celestial Master's mystical power - without doubt - imperial prayer must have already been fulfilled."

Comforted, he slept deeply that night in an ancient hall shrouded in mist.

“Given these circumstances, there’s no choice but to enshrine the Imperial Edict in Shangqing Palace’s main hall and return to the capital with all haste.” Having steeled his resolve with this declaration, the Elderly Taoist Master ordered ten priests: “Escort the Imperial Envoy back to Shangqing Palace.” Hong exited through the stone gate flanked by ten Taoist priests. After walking nearly half a day—what was this? The treacherous path that had taken countless days and nights to climb—plagued by tigers and venomous snakes—now felt like strolling across open plains during their descent, so effortless was their progress. Before they knew it, they reached the former Sanqing Palace where Baota Xianguan’s roof tiles loomed through the mist.

The following day, the imperial edict was enshrined and sealed within the Imperial Edict Box in the depths of Shangqing Palace's sacred doors. With the ceremony concluded, the night transitioned to a grand feast across the mountain. The mountain feast consisted entirely of vegetarian dishes. If the descent had proceeded smoothly from here, it would have been uneventful—but as is typical of military bureaucrats, once alcohol entered the equation, their true natures began to emerge. Did he perhaps feel that descending the mountain as they were would compromise his dignity? He had been putting on an air of excessive dignity when, suddenly catching a fragment of the surrounding chatter,

“What? What? The Demon Hall you just mentioned—exactly which pavilion is that?”

“Ah. “Has it come to your attention?” “It remains one of the inner sanctums within Sanqing Palace.”

“Hmm. “The expanse of this sacred precinct truly can’t be taken in at a single glance. “I doubt I’ll ever come to such a mountain again. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll have you let me tour all the halls and pavilions here!” “As you command.” “We earnestly await your honored pilgrimage.”

The chief priests and the Elderly Taoist Master took the lead in guiding him the following day. And then they showed him around Shangqing Temple’s renowned structures spanning the Tang, Five Dynasties, and Song eras, finally proceeding into the deep inner corridors of Jiutian Hall, Ziwei Hall, and Beiji Hall, “To your right is Taiyi Hall, and to your left is Maye Hall, which we mentioned last night,” they paused.

In the surroundings where even the dim sunlight held a quiet desolation, there was nothing but the echoing calls of small birds from somewhere—something faintly cold pricked at the skin with an inexplicable chill. “Ah, so this here is already the innermost depths of Shangqing Temple.”

“Indeed. "That would be the innermost ancient temple.”

“I see a gate over there on that stone wall, secured with iron chains and an imposing lock—what is that?” “It has been passed down as the Unopened Shrine.” “The Unopened Gate?” Hong strode forward brashly. He seemed to sense some resistance. Looking up revealed a massive cliff. At its base lay a hollowed-out stone cave. As he drew closer, on an adjacent stone pillar, Hall of Subdued Demons the four characters were carved.

“Chief Priest—open this up and show me what’s inside!” Hong, upon reading “Subdued Demons” and hearing it called the “Unopened Gate,” seemed to feel his arrogance flare up in his chest. “Wh-What an outrageous command!”

The chief priest and the Taoist priests turned pale. They said in unison, “To begin with, the demonic entities enshrined here and sealed with curses are none other than all the evil spirits of this world.” “To explain in detail, since the time of Great Tang’s Kaishan Dongxuan Guoshi, generations of Grand Patriarch Immortals have captured demonic entities and sealed them within this cavern. It must not be opened wantonly.”

“Hahahaha! What nonsense!” “Not at all—this is no laughing matter. If—by some error—this place were opened, the Demon King entombed within would seize his hour to leap forth into the human realm. Not only would the world’s order collapse utterly, but he would infiltrate the very marrow of human wisdom and viscera alike—a corruption beyond all remedy, so it is said... Therefore, over nine generations of Taoist practice—and I myself having dwelled thirty years upon this mountain—never once have we witnessed anyone lay hands upon these iron locks here.”

“That’s precisely why,” “Hearing that only makes me want to see the inside even more.” “Th-that would be... most improper, we must say.”

“What do you mean, ‘impropriety’? What impropriety lies in my using this valor to dispel your foolish delusions? Summon a blacksmith and have them break these chains!” “We beg you—please reconsider this act!”

“No.” “If you refuse, I shall report to the imperial court and expose you as worshippers of demonic spirits.” “Would you rather be chained together like prayer beads and have your severed heads displayed along Shangrao River’s banks?”

Once declared, General Hong would never retract his words - this was the man who had become precisely what his clamoring subordinates at the capital's guard headquarters knew him to be. The chief priests and Taoist priests, trembling uncontrollably with no alternative, finally clustered around the forbidden door. Sparks flew from iron hammers as stone axes produced unnatural clangs and peculiar odors. An eerie creaking reverberated - kii...kii...kii - like intestines being wrung tight from some sinister friction. Hong watched motionless until the instant the door gave way, then plunged first into the cavernous darkness,

“See? Look there—isn’t there absolutely nothing happening?” “What nonsense about forbidden chambers and seals!” “Hahaha! Get in, all of you!”

With both hands thrust toward the ceiling, he appeared to be in the utmost delight.

But the darkness was overwhelming; even when he tried to walk, he could see nothing. He shouted again from the depths. His voice echoed hollowly through the cavern, each word splitting into two.

“Hey! Light torches! All of you, take torches and advance behind me!” The cavern—as if modeled after the womb of a Buddha statue—had a narrow entrance that widened as one advanced, its walls carved with images of various Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and the Twelve Divine Generals.

“Ah!” “Danger!”

Hong tripped over a stone tablet. When they lit torches and examined the area, they saw that this spot alone formed a circular plaza. A cold earth that had lain in profound darkness for hundreds of years, never knowing even a sliver of the sun’s light. Moreover, a six-foot slab stele jutted up abruptly, and the stone-carved giant tortoise serving as its base—bearing the stele on its back—seemed to have slept since time immemorial, never awakening. “This can’t be read.” On the front of the stone stele were finely carved characters—though the entire text appeared to be written in an ancient script of the divine age. “What? On the back, there’s just regular script? Let me see.”

He, smoked by the crimson flames, casually circled around to the back of the stele and brought his face close.

Four large characters. That was—

遇洪而開 Thus it was read.

“Ah! “It says ‘Encountering Hong and Opening’?!” … “Hmm... So ‘Hong’ refers to me? ‘Opening upon encountering me’?” For some reason, he tensed every muscle and let out a thunderous groan. Then with madness-tinged fury, he barked orders: “Topple the stele! Remove the stone tortoise! Dig up what lies beneath!” Of course, the people desperately tried to restrain this violence. Wailing supplications— “How dreadful! How dreadful!” “We implore you—desist from this reckless deed!”

Collapsed on the ground, they did not even attempt to rise.

“Shut up!” Hong roared. “What’s this baseless terror?” “Look at the characters on the stele!” “...‘Encounter Hong and Open’—it says exactly that, doesn’t it?” “The ancient immortals had already prophesied my coming here today.” “Anyone who dares say ‘no’ will have their head lopped off!”

When he struck the sword hilt, the people, already trembling violently, could only move exactly as he commanded, submissive and compliant.

By the force of the multitude, the stele was toppled, and the stone tortoise was shaken awake from its centuries-long slumber. And simultaneously with the earth-shaking thud of the stone tortoise tumbling over once, twice and exposing its belly, a roaring sound—as if from a giant cauldron of boiling water—rose from beneath the people’s feet. “Whoa! This is deep!”

After the tortoise had been removed, a great cavity opened. The chasm plunged ten thousand fathoms deep, seemingly connecting straight to hell itself. Yet none could even kneel to peer within. At that instant came a grinding rumble from the earth's very axis - a hundred thunderclaps made manifest. Both General Hong and the common folk alike,

“Ah—” they cried, covering their ears and recoiling. What could it have been? Everything happened in an instant. A piercingly cold haze like liquid ink grazed over the fallen figures. Colorless and odorless, the haze could not be seen. Yet it undeniably erupted from the hole’s depths—demonic footfalls, demonic laughter, demonic tumult; none would name it otherwise. The earth’s roar continued unceasing; one tremor split four walls and shook mountains until all Longhu’s peaks howled while Shangrao’s Xin River waters surged so wildly they threatened to swallow the foothills whole.

“...Ah! Wh-what in heaven’s name is happening?!”

Hong was fleeing in a frenzy out of the stone cavern. No—it would be closer to the truth to say he was struck by something and hurled all the way beneath the bridge corridor of Mayaden.

Even when he had somewhat regained his senses, the cavern was still shaking and roaring. And as he gazed up at the black cloud trailing a single tail ascending to the zenith, a crimson flash pierced his eyes—and in that instant, it shattered into countless demonic stars that scattered across the mortal sky, flying apart in all directions.

Hong, mumbling incoherently like a witless fool, waved his hands and staggered along. The uproar throughout the mountain went without saying.

However, since the perpetrator was none other than the Imperial Envoy, punishment proved impossible. The abbot of Sanqing Palace addressed these words to General Hong's vacant countenance with profound lamentation: "Come now, Your Excellency—let us descend the mountain without delay." "There remains no alternative but to await Celestial Master Xu Jing's return." "Yet consider—within that shrine cavern lay sealed thirty-six Heavenly Officers and seventy-two Earthly Fiends, one hundred and eight demons in total. Your Excellency has wrought a truly terrible deed." "In your reckless curiosity, you shattered the talismanic seals and unleashed these hundred-and-eight demons upon the mortal realm—now I tremble to imagine what calamities we shall witness henceforth. At the very least, devote what remains of your life to spiritual devotion."

In Taoism, this universe was viewed as consisting of two realms—the demonic realm and the celestial realm—revering constellations such as the Big Dipper, Taiji, and the Twenty-Eight Mansions, which were considered to have a profound connection with the workings of human affairs: order and chaos, fortune and calamity. Therefore, virtuous stars in the heavens were revered while malevolent and demonic stars were sealed away through Taoist incantations.—For generations, the Taoist patriarchs of Longhu Mountain’s Shangqing Palace had painstakingly cultivated their spiritual path to preserve peace in the mortal realm; yet today he had finally let loose cheers from the 108 Demon Stars and returned them to their former world.

“How could this not be feared?” Even on the day General Hong dejectedly descended the mountain, the abbot never ceased lamenting while prophesying repeatedly of the future.

“The 108 Demon Stars are none other than the Sparkling Deluder.” “For tens of thousands of years in this universe, hundreds of millions of stars have orbited around the sun with perfect discipline, never once disrupting their celestial laws.” “But that Sparkling Deluder—it alone defies order.” “Under false obedience, it merely flickers around the sun’s periphery—never keeping true course.” “The mortal realm operates by these same principles—yet you, Your Excellency, have willfully cast them back into primordial chaos.” “Ah... Are human deeds truly shackled to endless cycles of fate...?” “Consider this truth.” “Though the Five Dynasties’ wars taught us to crave peace—after mere decades of Song rule—does not this complacent world now yawn at tranquility?” “Shall we name this humanity’s incurable flaw? From peace’s ennui springs revived demons—as if mortal eyes crave endless vistas of tangled strife. Ah...” “Alas! Our lamentations cannot mend what’s done.”

Upon hearing this, even Hong could not suppress a shudder and repeatedly wanted to cover his ears. He set out on his return journey, furling the Imperial Envoy’s banner as if fleeing, eventually returning to Bianliang City—the capital of Kaifeng—where he prostrated himself before His Majesty Emperor Renzong.

The Emperor commended him.

“Hong Xin.” “The long journey must have been arduous.” “However, Celestial Master Xu Jing of Longhu Mountain heeded the imperial edict and swiftly appeared in the capital astride a crane.” “And because he conducted prayers for seven days and seven nights, the plague among the people subsided at once, and the capital’s streets regained their vibrancy.” “Truly, the potency of the Celestial Master’s arts remains undiminished—his arrival proved swifter than your return.” “Rest assured, Hong.”

Contrary to all expectations, this was the imperial decree. Hong broke into a cold sweat, but the beauty of the imperial countenance seemed no lie. Of course, he never breathed a word about his transgression of breaking the demonic seal at the mountain in his official report. After retreating to his residence, he spent his remaining years alone in secret dread, living with utmost caution.

Fortunately, during his lifetime, no major incidents occurred; society grew ever more accustomed to peace and tranquility. In this span, the Song dynasty’s throne saw four imperial successions—from Renzong to Yingzong, Shenzong, and Zhezong. Since Jiayou Year 3, over thirty years had passed before one knew it.

…………..

There, with the 108 Sparkling Deluders having broken their seals to become destined for the mortal realm—each star transforming into humans to form Liangshan Marsh and ultimately endanger the Song dynasty’s reign—the grand continental narrative of *Chinese Water Margin* began with this tale and was truly told onward from this era.

When compared to Japanese history, this corresponds to the dawn of an era in our court under Emperors Toba and Sutoku—a time when figures like Taira no Tadamori and Kiyomori, who represented disenfranchised warriors, were poised to usher in the rise of the Heike period.

The East Asian climate, East Asian cultural objects, and East Asian peoples—since the time of the Japanese missions to Tang China, there had been exchanges weaving East Asia into a cohesive whole, making it akin to a nearby continent separated by mere reeds across shallow waters. Yet these sinister convergences of temporal fortune evoked something far beyond mere coincidence at work.

It was the fifth year of the Shoulong era of Emperor Zhezong.

Within the imperial court, there was no lack of unsettling movements these days. Conspiracies of powerful ministers, depositions of empresses—the rot of overripe blossoms seemed poised to hasten nature’s decline. Such symptoms of terminal decadence now overflowed even in the customs of Bianliang’s youth within the Eastern Capital.

But the common people remained in carefree peace. Whatever was brewing in the imperial court’s internal matters held no more interest than a neighbor’s marital squabble.—Far more significant was whatever major incident lay at the destination they raced toward that day, one after another.

“What’s this? What’s this?” “A hundred lashes?” “Seems so.” “A villain who’s been flogged and exiled is now being dragged away by officials.”

The city gate was a seething mass of people, pitch-black in the crowd. There they saw a twenty-five or twenty-six-year-old man who looked like a loafer being restrained by executioners and relentlessly struck beneath a green bamboo rod as someone counted off blows - "One! Two! Three!..."

“Hey, isn’t that Gao Qiu?”

“Oh, ain’t no doubt—it’s Gao Qiu.” “Poor Gao—he’s finally met his day of reckoning, ain’t he?”

He was still a young exile, yet there seemed to be no one who did not know him.

He was unemployed. However, in this Eastern Capital lived a libertine named Gao Erlang—a son of an old merchant family that had been here for generations. Though he had lost his family fortune like his parents before him, he excelled in string and wind instruments, possessed a beautiful singing voice when he sang, and was skilled in calligraphy, spearmanship, staff martial arts, horsemanship, and all manner of arts. He was particularly renowned as a master of gambling cuju. On the surface, he engaged in work resembling that of a taikomochi (jester) in the pleasure quarters, but he loved brawls and had a chivalrous streak. Of course, he must have committed numerous misdeeds. After his accumulated misdeeds came to light, they must have finally culminated in today’s punishment.

—They had been swinging a green bamboo rod,

“Eighty! Eighty-one!… Ninety! One hundred!” As the jailer—who had been shouting the count with each strike on Gao’s back—finally reached one hundred and began to step back with relief,

“Hold it!” “You haven’t delivered a hundred strikes yet!” “Why are you fudging the count?” “So you’ve all taken bribes from Gao the exile!”

And there was someone who even rebuked the jailers tacitly allowing this around them. That person was Wang Sheng—a warrior serving as a staff martial arts instructor for Imperial Guard soldiers—who had come to witness the proceedings. Bribery was routine for jailers; they saw such dealings as legitimate income rather than vice, but being publicly denounced in broad daylight before a crowd left even them with no ground to stand on. There, they attempted some objections, but given that their opponent outranked them and was none other than Instructor Wang of the Imperial Guard, even the authority of officialdom could not withstand him.

“Then we’ll keep beating him until Instructor Wang says stop.” “Please do the counting.” In the end, they struck Gao’s entire body with the green bamboo rod for another forty-odd strikes. “Enough! Banish him!” When Wang Sheng spoke, Gao’s ropes were untied for the first time. Gao Qiu staggered to his feet.

Being expelled from the city gate, he was banished from four counties, never to tread the capital's soil again. Gao, stroking his skin riddled with earthworm-like welts here and there, resentfully glared back at Wang Sheng’s figure.

“...Remember this.” “You staff-wielding wooden dummy!” “Your former self ain’t exactly unaware of Mr.Gao either!”

Thus he drifted alone to Linhuai Market Town in Huaixi (Anhui Province), where he lived as a layabout in the quarters of local boss Liu Shiquan for roughly three or four years.

In time, a general amnesty decree was issued. Originally, as his crime was minor, Gao Qiu too received the amnesty’s grace; but with that settled and having no reason to remain, he grew eager to return to the Eastern Capital. But even if he returned, there would be no immediate employment; wondering what to do, he consulted Liu. “Then I’ll write a letter to my relative Dong. Take that and go back.”

Liu Shiquan said. After four years, Gao returned to his old haunt—immediately, letter in hand, he set about searching for the addressee near Jinliang Bridge within the city walls. “Ah,” he muttered. “This must be the shop—Dong Jiangshi’s house.”

The structure was that of an impressive wholesale drug store.

When Gao met with Master Dong and presented Liu’s letter, Dong accepted it without hesitation, not even inquiring about his background. “Well, I see.” “Having spent four years in Linhuai, it’s only natural you’ve grown unfamiliar with your birthplace’s royal capital.” “Given our trade dealings, we frequent various official households. In time, we’ll strive to find you some position.” “For now, please make yourself at home.” Gao expressed gratitude for the kindness and stayed for about half a month. During that time—perhaps having observed his many talents and brilliant qualities—Dong one day wrote a letter of introduction,

“How about this? How long do you plan to keep idling? It’s such a waste. Why not take this letter and visit the esteemed scholar with whom I share closest ties?” “Oh, thank you. If I can secure employment, I won’t make extravagant demands.”

Gao knocked on Xiao Su Xueshi’s door.

However, this scholar slightly furrowed his brows. A scholar's life is not easy.

Upon conversing with him, he found Gao to be a person of a different disposition from his own.—Yet, bound by obligation to Dong’s request, he wore an expression that refusal was impossible,

“Hmm.” “Well, please stay at my residence tonight.” “Tomorrow I shall arrange an introduction—you ought to call upon Prince Wang Jinqing’s mansion.” “Not long ago, His Highness expressed a desire for a clever attendant. Should fortune favor you, you might secure employment there.” Though Xiao Su’s tone rang thoroughly dubious, Gao nevertheless went to visit Wang Jinqing the next day. Yet when he stood before those resplendent gates, even this brazen rogue faltered mid-step.

This was a royal household. The current emperor's son-in-law - whom society called "Prince Wang the General" - was none other than Jinqing himself.

Hmm, what should I do. That damn Xiao Su Xueshi—maybe he introduced me to this impossible-to-approach Wang household just to thoroughly drive me away. ...Ah, what the hell. Fortune favors the bold.

Steeling his innate courage, Gao strode boldly through the gate, deliberately waiting to be challenged. And after being seized by the guards, he soon handed Xiao Su Xueshi’s letter to an emerging courtier attendant and announced smoothly thus: “I am absolutely not a suspicious person.” “I am here seeking employment and am confident in my professional skills.” “Regardless of acceptance or rejection, I humbly beg to undergo examination and earnestly entreat your kind mediation.”

At that moment, Prince Wang the General lay within a secluded pavilion, surrendering to an idle spring day’s influence as he released a half-formed yawn devoid of purpose. This marked the fulcrum of Gao Qiu’s ascendant fortune. When he heard the intermediary’s report and examined the letter Xiao Su Xueshi had composed without sincerity,

“Hmm—” “That seems like an interesting scholar.” “Though... he doesn’t look like one.” “...Well, no matter.” “To pass the time, I’ll meet and test him.” “I myself shall see this man.” “Bring him here.” With that, he rose from the beautiful long bench-like couch where he had been reclining and slightly adjusted the tassel of his crown.

The ball user’s fortune soared to the ninth heaven leading him to meet the aesthete Emperor Huizong.

In the world of talented individuals there are generally two types: showy petty geniuses who grate on one’s nerves and taciturn sincere sorts. Even a man like Gao Qiu had understood such behavior. When subjected to direct examination by Prince Wang the General himself he refrained from immediately flaunting his talents through boastful displays. He impressed this dignitary at their first meeting precisely as an earnest youth of humble origins maintaining scrupulous propriety. “Indeed—as one would expect from Xiao Su Xueshi’s recommendation—this scholar would bring no shame were he added to our household’s attendants.”

Prince Wang the General seemed to have taken an immediate liking to Gao upon seeing him. Glancing back at the ranks of his courtiers,

“What say you? What do you all think? This man has quite a favorable countenance, does he not?”

After such appraisals, his employment was settled immediately. Thus did Gao Qiu—a mere street wanderer—come to serve in the mansion of Wang Jinqing, the current emperor’s son-in-law (an official title for those wedded into the imperial family).

Truly, this was nothing but the kind of luck described by the saying, "Even a dog that walks around may find a bone." However, there are many who encounter good fortune yet fail to wield it effectively throughout their lives. In that regard, he became like a fish returned to water from that point onward. The talent he had kept sheathed gradually revealed its keen edge, and his manifold skills soon made him an indispensable favorite at Prince Wang the General's side. And from around this time, he changed his name to Gao Qiu. He removed the "fur" radical from 毬 and replaced it with the "human" radical to form 俅.

In time, one year came to pass.

With it being the birthday celebration of the master of the house, Wang Fuma, splendid carriages formed a veritable market at the pavilion hall’s gate. On flower-decked towers, musicians and singing girls stood arrayed; upon glass tables and silver trays, delicacies lay lavishly displayed; while nobles from court and countryside vied in every manner of splendid attire. Among them, one nobleman stood most conspicuously striking—what status did he hold? “Ninth Prince! Ninth Prince!” He was enshrined in the banquet’s seat of honor. While receiving courtesies from Prince Wang the General’s family and guests—attentions befitting royalty—each time amber cups brimmed with the Purple Palace’s famed wine, he seemed ceaselessly entreated to drink.

Moreover, the beauty of this lord’s features was such that even the flowers in golden vases and the fragrance of immortal peaches on jade plates paled in comparison. Thus, it was only a matter of time. When the Music Bureau's courtesans finished their dance performance, their crimson skirts and emerald sleeves immediately swarmed around this noble prince,

“Oh, Prince Duan. How unusually prim you’re being today, Your Highness!” “Though you are today’s guest of honor, there’s no need to put on such formal airs. Why not relax a little more?” ...and so on—they began to playfully tease him like butterflies swarming around a peony. “Hahaha.” “Is that how I seem?” “Do I really seem that prim?”

Prince Duan of the Ninth Palace, with a refined bitter smile, deftly handled the swarm of butterflies' advances. Yet his usual conduct seemed to betray a glaring vulnerability, for he appeared to labor strenuously to silence them. The banquet guests all exchanged amused glances at this spectacle, their cheers frequently overwhelming even the hall's fiddles and sheng pipes.

It was not long after the day of the birthday celebration. “Gao Qiu—take these gifts and pay a visit to the Ninth Prince’s palace.”

By Prince Wang the General's order, he was sent that day to Prince Duan's palace as a messenger. Naturally, Gao Qiu had understood everything.

During the recent birthday celebration, in the study where Prince Duan had rested, there were stationery items that caught his eye. They were a jade brush holder carved with dragons and a lion-shaped paperweight.

"If you are so fond of them, I shall have them delivered at a later date"—Gao Qiu had been present when Prince Wang the General made this promise to Prince Duan at the time. The gifts undoubtedly referred to those two items. Gao Qiu set out on that day's errand bearing both a sense of having been granted a hard-won opportunity and an air of ceremonious gravity.

After all, this lord referred to as Prince Duan was the eleventh prince of the late emperor, being the younger brother of the current Emperor Zhezong and one who had received treatment befitting the Crown Prince. In fact, Gao Qiu had privately been drawn to this lord because he had long heard—as evidenced by how even the Music Bureau courtesans had made such a commotion—that he was an exceedingly refined nobleman. That he was a cultured man thoroughly versed not only in the refined arts of qin, chess, calligraphy, and painting but also in musical pastimes, cuju, dance, and even Confucian and Buddhist studies—and one who understood the sentiments of the common folk—was a reputation none in Kaifeng’s Eastern Capital were unaware of; he,

He had long thought that he must find a way to have a proper conversation with him just once. If he could demonstrate all his myriad depths of mastery in that art—he was certain—the prince would surely recognize him as an indispensable man and bestow his favor upon him.

Thus, he had long been harboring such ambitions in secret.

The Eastern Palace was a district within Bianliang City.

When he respectfully approached the mansion gate, a guard— “Who goes there?” With that, his dignity was quite unlike any other. “I am an envoy from Prince Wang the General, bearing honorable gifts for the Ninth Prince.” Hearing this, the guard immediately opened the gate. With that, he proceeded leisurely inside, then once again made his approach to the attendant of the middle gate.

The middle gate official, with composure,

“You’ve had quite the journey,” said the official with composed deference. “However, as His Highness is presently enjoying kemari with court nobles at the field, would you kindly wait here awhile?” “Ah—he’s at the kemari field?” Gao Qiu’s voice tightened imperceptibly. Kemari being his foremost skill, he could not let this opportunity pass unremarked. Swallowing hard, he pressed further: “This humble one too walks kemari’s path. Might I not glimpse the palace field’s splendor, even from afar?”

“That’s easily arranged.” “Then, allow me to show you the way.”

Threading through the grove, they emerged into a sunlit field where the crisp sound of kemari already greeted their ears. They were undoubtedly all kemari enthusiasts—noblemen, princesses, and lords of high society. Surrounding the spacious kemari court, one group had gathered around tatami mats and chairs while another crowd sat stretching their legs on the lawn, all watching the match. Gao too quietly blended into those scented sleeves and watched the spectacle from the sidelines. Just then, one match seemed to have concluded. Following the next commotion, Prince Duan’s figure could be seen standing beneath the "Suspended Tree"—his light kemari attire immediately striking the eye. He bound his hair with a thin silk Tang-style headscarf; his robe—a white ground adorned with purple embroidered floral patterns—bore flying dragons on its sleeves, and he wore phoenix boots upon his feet. And then, seeing the opponent's preparations,

“Are you ready?”

No sooner had he spoken than he strode purposefully toward the ball that a servant had placed at the center of the court. In accordance with rank, the noble individuals would kick first—the initial strike—then proceed in order through the second, third, and fourth positions onward, passing the ball to opponents stationed at each of the eight "Suspended Trees." True to form, Prince Duan’s technique proved elegant as befitted the imperial family, flawless in both receiving and passing.

However, due to some mistake, a ball that had veered off the tip of someone's shoe suddenly came flying toward the spectators. "Ah! Look out!"

The people struck overhead split through the crowd and tumbled down. However, Gao Qiu—who happened to be nearby—leapt forward as if seizing his chance and kicked the ball with a resounding thud, sending it flying straight toward Prince Duan. “Oh, splendid!”

A voice rang out in the distance like an echo. Immediately after, the owner of that same voice—having apparently fixed his gaze on Gao Qiu’s figure—called out in this manner: “You there—the one who kicked that ball just now.” “Come here.”

“Yes,” said Gao Qiu, stepping forward. “Who are you?” “I beg your forgiveness. As it is a skill I have long cherished, I lost all sense of my station.”

“No, no. I’m not reprimanding you. The move you just executed—among the secret techniques of the Ten Kicks of Kemari Law—I perceived as none other than the most difficult one: the Mandarin Duck Twist.” “Truly, Your Highness’s discerning eye perceives all.” “Exactly where do you hail from, and who are you?” “I am Gao Qiu, a retainer in the service of Lord Prince Consort. In truth, by my master’s command—”

With that, he promptly presented the two items from the box and explained the purpose of his mission.—However, Prince Duan appeared far more captivated by Gao Qiu’s exquisite kemari techniques than by the gifts themselves.

“Very well, I shall hear the details later. Enough of that—show me your technique once more right here!”

insisted with fervent expectation.

He needed no urging. Gao Qiu, recognizing this as a once-in-a-thousand-lifetimes opportunity, found himself powerless to suppress the flush rising to his cheeks. However, maintaining an air of modesty to the last, he repeatedly declined, but as Prince Duan would not permit refusal, “Well then, I shall demonstrate—though it is but the humble practice of an amateur.” Stepping forward to the center, he demonstrated all the forms of the Ten Kicks of Kemari Law. From shoulder techniques, back techniques, and knee techniques to the fundamentals of five-body ten-part methods known as Sharp Flight and Tower Dance, there existed eighty-eight detailed forms—and various secret arts such as Flying Swallow, Flower Chariot, Dragon Mane, Wave Striking, and Star Devouring. Needless to say, Gao Qiu was not merely a master of that art; back when he had been a street idler—a jobless loafer—he had so devoted himself to gambling on kemari that people did not call him Gao Erlang but went so far as to refer to him by the nickname Gao Ball. The discipline behind it differed entirely from the so-called courtly pastime’s polished techniques.

Prince Duan and all present—

“Ah, magnificent! Divine skill! Divine skill!” That they could do nothing but gasp in admiration was an inevitability beyond question.

The kemari court too had eventually succumbed to dusk. Eventually, it was the hour when the corridor lamps grew dim.

Gao had once again been summoned before Prince Duan’s presence. Needless to say, Prince Duan showed delight at the presented stationery. However, the conversation quickly shifted to a different topic. Once again, it was about kemari. And then, suddenly, he spoke thus. “Gao Qiu. From this day forth, you shall become my teacher morning and evening, and instruct me in your exquisite skills.” “You honor me too greatly. I am not one who should be called a teacher by Your Noble Highness.”

“And from this day forth, you shall remain in this Eastern Palace.” “You need not return to Prince Consort Wang’s residence anymore.” “Oh, that would be problematic.” “For me, he is my esteemed master.” “I have no desire to serve two masters.” “No—I have already sent a messenger to Prince Consort Wang’s presence some time ago, requesting his understanding to transfer Gao Qiu to my household as a retainer.” “Prince Consort is our sworn brother—we are, so to speak, one house.” “Your sense of duty is admirable, but this does not mean righteousness is absent.”

“In that case, as you command.” Gao Qiu assumed a posture as if trembling with emotional tears.

Thus he became a member of the Eastern Palace entourage, and with each passing day, Prince Duan’s trust in him grew ever deeper. Originally, Gao Qiu—a hedonist risen from the streets, rich in worldly talents and versed in every art—attended upon the young Eastern Palace prince who, though a cultured nobleman, knew nothing of the world. To put it another way, it was as though he had placed his favored kemari ball in the palm of his hand.

However. How far would this lucky ball yet bring fortune into his palm?

―And then, merely half a year later. Emperor Zhezong had passed away. However, with no true Crown Prince in place, after prolonged and contentious deliberations in the council of civil and military officials, it was finally decided to enthrone Prince Duan and revere him as Emperor.

Truly, the fortunes of men are unfathomable. This was none other than the lord whom the world revered as both the Jade Pure Sect Leader Subtle and Profound Dao Lord and the eighth emperor of the Song Dynasty, Huizong. Emperor Huizong, just as his conduct as a cultured nobleman had been evident since his Eastern Palace days, showed little interest in politics even after ascending the throne.

However, the realm of culture—painting, music, architecture, fashion, and more—blazed with twice their usual splendor at this time. Emperor Huizong himself was a first-rate painter when wielding a brush, and at the imperial Xuanhe Painting Academy were gathered the era's master artists. Moreover, printing techniques advanced, the publication of books became widespread, and though zaju theater was still in its infancy on the streets, theatrical performances emerged—all aspects of civil governance that characterized the Song Dynasty may be said to have demonstrated a certain zenith around this period. Yet within civil governance, those of Wang Anshi’s faction advocating radical reforms and conservative ministers clinging to old laws were constantly clashing in the court, so by Emperor Huizong’s era it already harbored within an extraordinary crisis of division and self-destruction. Nevertheless, Emperor Huizong remained a cultured emperor.

With Taoism established as the state religion, he himself became its sect leader and worked to protect it. He gathered rare and exotic objects of wood, stone, birds, and beasts from across the nation; in palace construction projects, he showed no regard for the people’s suffering. Naturally, harsh taxes, corrupt officials’ rampages, and the wealth gap grew increasingly severe; the suffering people’s resentment swelled in all directions. —The tides of fortune grew increasingly turbulent; the Jin (Manchu), who had destroyed the Liao, soon overran Taiyuan and Yanjing, pressed onward to the capital of Kaifeng Biancheng, and abducted Emperor Huizong along with his consorts, crown prince, and royal family as captives to the northern Manchurian wilderness. And there, Emperor Huizong was forced into farming like a prisoner, thereby bringing his tragic imperial life to an end.

The all-night west wind shakes the shattered gate. A desolate lone house; a single lamp’s faint glow. Homeland; turn one's head—three thousand leagues away. The moon severs the southern sky; no wild geese fly.

This is a poem composed by Emperor Huizong himself in the exile of Northern Manchuria, lamenting his own fate as emperor.

Ah—unintentionally, this had ventured rather too far ahead in the telling. The end of Emperor Huizong and the collapse of the Northern Song Dynasty were still a full twenty-five years in the future at this point in the story. As Water Margin—also known by another name as Northern Song Water Margin—is a story depicting those societal stirrings among commoners under Emperor Huizong’s reign, one needed only understand, as premise, at what point in time the great river of the era had been flowing.

Now.

Let us return to our story.

With the accession of the new emperor, it went without saying that Gao Qiu entered court service and became an imperial attendant. The ball had finally soared to the ninth heaven. As the Emperor's favor grew ever deeper, with nothing but promotion awaiting him above, before many years had passed, he rose to become Commander of the Imperial Guard (Commander of the Palace Armies). Now, it was shortly after this appointment that—

Gao Qiu examined the military register of the eight hundred thousand Imperial Guard troops and gathered the various division commanders along with their banners, cavalry, and infantry at Biancheng’s Grand Training Ground to conduct a roll call—but on that day, he

"Hmm?" With that, he abruptly halted his inspection steed mid-stride and gazed at the generals standing in gleaming iron armor formation, his expression growing deeply suspicious. "Military Clerk!" "Yes, sir!" "Strange... Read that roster of ranks aloud again!"

“Yes, sir!” When one of the attendants took the register from the military official and began calling out the names of the assembled generals once more, there was one commander listed in the register who was not present there.

"See here? One is missing!" "This is an inexcusable breach of protocol at today's military review!" "My most humble apologies."

“Precisely because such laxity in military discipline has become evident,” Gao Qiu declared, “the Emperor saw fit to entrust this weighty responsibility to me.” His voice sharpened like a whetstone on steel. “Yet here we find someone listed in the attendance register who dares absent himself from today’s cavalry inspection—this defies all reason!” The commander’s gauntleted hand clenched around his riding crop. “Name this offender!” “It is Wang Jin, drill master of the Imperial Forest Army,” the clerk replied.

"Given his position as a drill master for soldiers, this makes it all the more unforgivable. Arrest that man at once!" "But Drill Master Wang has never been negligent even in ordinary times. For several days now, he appears to have been bedridden with illness." "Silence! Would a military officer abandon his crucial duty over some trifling ailment? What would he do if this were a real battle? No doubt he either resents this Gao Qiu's appointment or holds military orders in contempt—go immediately! This serves as an ideal occasion to tighten discipline."

Gao Qiu, having uttered these fierce words, spurred his horse onward. And immediately accompanied by adjutants and mounted attendant officers, he proceeded to the next inspection.

Drill Master Wang Jin Escapes Pursuit and Embarks on a Thousand-League Journey with His Mother

As a master of staff and spear techniques, Wang Jin’s name was renowned far and wide.

Since his father Wang Sheng’s generation, he served in the capital’s military, taught martial arts to soldiers, and lived with only his mother in a corner of the castle town without incident.

But on that day, to his room where he lay ill, “Present yourself immediately!” Gao Qiu’s stern command was relayed. The soldiers who had come to fetch him were all his usual disciples. To refuse would render their position untenable. Wang Jin left the sickbed and prepared himself.

“Mother, please do not worry. Once I’m up like this, it’s not so bad. The new Imperial Guard Commander’s anger is entirely justified. Once I have properly apologized and returned.” His elderly mother came out beyond the gate to see off her child, surrounded by soldiers and departing, with a look of deep worry.

At the Imperial Guard headquarters, once the military review had concluded, celebratory wine for General Gao Xin’s appointment was bestowed afterward, and the camp gates and barracks were abuzz. “I offer my deepest apologies.”

Wang Jin prostrated himself before Gao Qiu and offered this apology. “On this most significant day, I resolved to attend despite my ailing body, but as my sole mother was excessively anxious, I found myself bound by her parental concern and neglected to participate.” “I humbly beg you to deal with me as you see fit.”

“Needless to say,” “Since I, Gao Qiu, now command the Imperial Guard, I will absolutely not tolerate any laxity like yesterday’s.” “To begin with, I shall rectify this army’s disorder starting with sham warriors like you!” “Ah, but ‘sham warrior’ is such an overstatement.” “And as for disrupting military discipline—on what grounds?” “Shut up!” “If summoned, you’re clearly well enough to come walking here like this.” “That is nothing if not proof of feigned illness!” “And here in this military court, you’d dare construct such tearful excuses about your mother’s concern—but let me remind you—this Gao Qiu knows full well what sort of man your father was before he put on airs!”

“Is this reckless remark of yours meant to brand me a sham warrior?”

“Oh? Your father Wang Sheng may have later been promoted to drill master of the Imperial Gate Guard through his staff techniques, but before that—wasn’t he just some roadside medicine peddler in the capital who performed staff tricks for crowds? Back then, you were that brat counting paltry coins beside your hawker father! …Hey! Wang Jin! Lift your head! You’ve forgotten your roots—grown arrogant of late.”

“…”

“Ha ha ha ha.” “This speechless look of yours is utterly laughable!” “Hey, staff officers! As an example to all, string this wretch up immediately!”

Before the raging Gao Qiu, the people shielded Wang Jin, earnestly trying to appease him and offer apologies.

“Wait—please wait. On this auspicious occasion, would it not be ill-omened to witness a hanging?” “Let punishment remain punishment—there will be occasion for strict judgment at a later date. For now—today—I shall grant a temporary stay. Moreover, as all the soldiers filling the courtyard were singing drunken songs in celebration of your honorable appointment at this very moment—” “Hmm... There is some merit to that...” Gao Qiu let out a brief groan. It was his own celebratory occasion. On his appointment day, he apparently did not want to witness any ill omens.

Wang Jin was temporarily released and permitted to return home.

Of course, guards were posted at every entrance and exit of the house, and the mansion had become a prison "until the day of judgment."

The midnight hour steeped in ink-black darkness. Wang Jin quietly crawled out of the room and shook his mother awake by her pillow. "...Mother, please compose yourself." "Oh, my son." "You too seem unable to sleep each night." "Nonsense—Wang Jin is by nature an easygoing person." "By no means would such trifles dishearten me." "But since I can perceive Mother's worries—" "I'm fine." "Rather than my concerns, you must think of a way to save yourself."

"But it's no use. No matter how I look at it, Gao Qiu will likely take my life this time." "If you die, I won't keep living either. But your many disciples will probably plead for mercy, and besides, you haven't committed any crime deserving death."

“No, no— “Under normal circumstances, I might say that. But this is a desperate predicament. There’s one thing that struck my heart like a thunderbolt.” “Y-you… you haven’t been plotting some rebellion against the military or anything like that, have you?”

“Don’t be absurd. It isn’t such a grave matter. The truth is—when I wondered what sort of man this new Imperial Guard General Gao Qiu might be—he himself brought up my father Wang Sheng. Hmm... For a court official to know how Father Wang Sheng appeared during his destitute days in the alleys—that’s suspicious... This unworthy one stared hard at his face.” “What? He knew about your father’s past?”

“He must know.” “When this unworthy one was still a child, there was a notorious libertine in the capital of Kaifeng.” “That man was a master of kickball—a rogue entertainer who went by the name Gao Qiu.” “What do you think, Mother—that man became today’s new Commander of the Eight Hundred Thousand Imperial Guard, Gao Qiu.”

“My! That ruffian could’ve—” “...‘It’s over,’ this unworthy one resolved at that moment. You see, when that ruffian Gao Qiu of those days was exiled from four prefectures and received a hundred lashes before the crowd at the city gate, my father Wang Sheng—already an official by then—had attended to oversee the punishment alongside the executioners. According to town rumors, Gao Qiu harbored intense resentment toward Father for his handling of that matter and reportedly spat out a parting threat: ‘I’ll have my revenge someday!’ It’s been over a decade since then… but when that memory suddenly flashed into my chest—Ah, this won’t do—I immediately felt as though I could see my own death.”

"My son, what are we to do?" "I too have some memory of hearing about this from my late husband long ago, but—" "Ah no—do not panic." "Fortunately, having been temporarily allowed to return home and see your face, Mother, this unworthy one also thought 'I can't just die like this!', regained resolve, and devised a plan." "N-now... please begin your preparations at once." "Though this house holds many memories of Father, let us abandon the mansion and flee far away."

“B-but you—there are guards posted all around the mansion! If we become wanted throughout the realm—” “The two guard captains, Zhang and Li, are this unworthy one’s regular disciples. If we tell them Mother and I are going to offer prayers at Mitake Shrine in the outskirts to mitigate our sins—that we’ll return before dawn—they’ll surely turn a blind eye.”

Even for the elderly mother’s prudence, there was now no choice but to stake everything on a desperate gamble. Carrying not a single conspicuous item upon her person, she slipped out through the back gate on her son’s back. The guard captains Li and Zhang pretended not to notice and let them pass. Wang Jin ran through the depths of the night toward Xihua Gate. There too were his disciples. Under false pretenses, he had them let him through, then borrowed a horse, put his mother on it, and climbed onto the saddle behind her.

“Ah, it worked. Mother, it’s safe now. The pursuers still aren’t in sight.”

“But where are you heading now?” “Let us proceed to Yan’an Prefecture (Shaanxi Province).”

“Shaanxi’s Yan’an?!” “That’s correct. At the fortress on that prefecture’s border, there is a man called Old Zhong serving as Military Commissioner—a castle custodian’s official title—in charge of national defense. Among his subordinates are many whom this unworthy one taught staff martial arts in the capital. Moreover, I am on such terms with Zhong himself that we often exchange letters.”

“It must be so far away.” “The skies of Yan’an...”

“West of the Yellow River, north of Chang’an’s ancient capital—after all, this journey will not be an easy one.” “Please endure this hardship.”

“Ah, no hardship exists that I cannot endure so long as I am with my child.” “This Wang Jin too feels endowed with the strength of a hundred men while carrying you, Mother.”

The journey of flight continued ceaselessly, as if pursued by the wind, lying low in fields and mountains.

While the post roads were still not far from the capital, it was heard that Gao Qiu’s fury had become an official proclamation, and he repeatedly urged the provincial governors of various circuits and regions to arrest the criminal Wang Jin. However, in time, the vast continental wilds and mountain roads carried the traveling mother and son so far that even the anxiety behind them grew too distant to recall.

“…Well, the day has darkened, but what is this village called here?” Wang Jin soothed the trudging, weary horse and searched here and there for lodging.

“There seem to be no inns, Mother. In the depths of that willow garden over there, a four-sided earthen gate can be seen—shall we try asking for lodging there?”

“It seems to be the village headman’s estate.”

“It’s no problem.” “Please leave it to me.” After securing his mother’s horse to a solitary willow tree, Wang Jin entered the gate and requested lodging for the night.

"Oh... This is quite the grand estate." It appeared to be a rather old family of considerable lineage. On the hill behind, a thatched cottage-like structure could be seen; the road threaded through willows and disappeared, while a mountain stream cascaded down, pooling in the manor's garden like an azure mirror. Facing the water stood rows of pavilions from the main house, while against the mountain, the master's study hall—its windows thrown open—seemed to have just lit a lamp, showing a fresh flicker. The attendant boy had gone into the inner quarters and did not readily emerge. In the distance came the lowing of many cows; from kitchen sheds and servants' lodgings rose vigorous plumes of cooking smoke, while what sounded like hundreds of servants clamored noisily. It carried an air of that proverbial place where even paupers' chickens ate their fill, wealthy households lacked no heirs, and libraries housed ten thousand volumes.

“…Traveler. “Apologies for the wait. “Please, come in.” At the sight of the attendant boy who had emerged.

“Ah. “You’re kindly putting us up, then?” “Yes. When I informed the master that you were travelers with an elderly mother who had journeyed until dusk, he remarked that it must indeed be a trying predicament.” “Much obliged. “Well then, I’ll gratefully accept your kindness.” Wang Jin ran outside and immediately led his mother in. The attendant boy kindly— “Please leave the horse as it is. “I’ll take care of feeding it.”

The household members were all as warm as that attendant boy.

After finishing bathing and meals, Wang Jin met the estate master, Taigong. He wore a folded hood, his white beard hung down to his knees, wore something resembling a Taoist robe, and sported soft-looking leather boots. “I heard you’re a merchant bound for Yan’an, but traveling with your elderly mother must be quite a hardship.” “Well, I lost all my capital in the capital.”

“Ha ha ha. You’re worried about not having payment for lodging, aren’t you? If that’s all, I wouldn’t turn you away over that.” “This is presumptuous of me, but traveling with an elder makes sleeping outdoors quite difficult.”

“No need for hesitation. The house is spacious. Tonight you should let your mother stretch her limbs at ease.”

For a while, they spent time in casual conversation. However, as Wang Jin withdrew with his dignified bearing, Master Taigong watched him intently from beneath his snow-white eyebrows.

The next morning.—Taigong brewed his favorite tea and waited for Wang Jin. But when Wang Jin still did not emerge, Taigong himself went to check the room and found Wang Jin's mother—her chronic illness having flared up since midnight—still suppressing moans as she received her son's care that morning. “What’s this? You should have told me sooner.”

Taigong immediately had the medicine bag fetched and personally prepared the herbal decoction. Not only that—he even suggested she recuperate here for as many days as needed. “I will not forget your kindness.”

About seven days had passed. Her chronic illness had subsided, and her complexion had improved.

With the intention to depart early this morning, Wang Jin went to check on his horse at the stable.

Then, in the lingering mist of early dawn amid green dew and willows so verdant they seemed to dye one's lungs blue—Hyaah! Oooh!—a figure could be heard unleashing vigorous battle cries.

Wang Jin was suddenly struck by a sound and turned around. And within the blue mist, he saw a shadow resembling the well-built, pure white body of a robust man.

He appeared to be around eighteen or nineteen years old. In any case, he was a powerfully built, handsome man. Baring his skin from face to half-naked torso, moistened by flowing sweat—even that sweat was beautiful.

What further made Wang Jin widen his eyes was the tattoo drawn on that snow-white half-naked torso. Nine dragons glistening with sweat seemed to rise from his skin. And in the young man’s hands was held a long oak staff. The staff hummed as it whirled around him like a spinning wheel. “Ah… So he’s practicing staff techniques.”

Since this was his own path, Wang Jin couldn’t help but smile at the young man’s earnestness.

Then, seeming to have noticed, the young man suddenly stopped his staff movements, “Hey, what’s so funny about watching my art?”

“No—I’m not mocking you.” “I was just watching with admiration, thinking you’re quite skilled…”

“What? Think you’re something special?” Shi Jin retorted. “Putting on airs with that mouth of yours!” “Now now—no need for anger,” Wang Jin replied calmly. “Given your youth, it’s only natural. Why don’t we observe a while longer?” “Don’t fuck with me!” The young man’s staff whirled menacingly. “My staff art isn’t some street performance! If you’re so bold, you must know your stuff! Block this if you can—fail and you’re dead!”

“This is troublesome. If I have offended you, I humbly apologize.” “Damn it, damn it! I won’t calm down until I smash either those cheekbones or two-three ribs of yours!” At that moment, Master Taigong’s voice rang out.

“Now, Shi Jin! What are you doing to our guest?” “Ah. Father?” “Hold your tongue!” Taigong scolded his son—then turned to the guest: “Esteemed visitor... Though my son has committed such outrageous rudeness, as you can see he’s country-bred—please do forgive him.”

“No—Master—I too was at fault,” Wang Jin replied with a bow. “Seeing the young man so single-mindedly honing his spirit, I couldn’t help but smile.” Taigong stroked his beard. “This too must be fate’s design. Might you teach my son a staff technique as a parting gift?”

“Not at all. This unworthy one is but a humble, down-and-out merchant; as for staff techniques…”

“No no—I can see exceptional skill within your entire being.” “Now now sir—there’s no need to overestimate me.”

The young man called Shi Jin, in front of his father, abruptly thrust Wang Jin in the chest and cursed. “The old man just spouted nonsense, but I ain’t asking some drifter like you to teach me squat. Don’t think I’d ever hint you’ve got real skill! So—you got guts or just a fraud? I’ll test you right now—try blocking this!” He had jumped back to assume a stance. Suddenly, his staff became one with his right hand and, with a whoosh, came crashing down toward Wang Jin’s nape.

How he had done it, Wang Jin firmly clamped the end of his staff beneath his left armpit,

“Master—is this acceptable?” With that, he looked at Taigong and laughed. “By all means—discipline him thoroughly! Like a bat lording over a birdless village, my son believes none surpass him—utterly unmanageable! If you’d just thoroughly break that arrogant nose of his, why—it might prove a blessing for the boy himself!”

“Understood. Since it’s your parental request—”

When he heard this, Shi Jin—

“What the—!” As he spoke, a blood-like hue surged through the nine dragons covering his entire body. Yet this was martial arts of provincial training from the outset. Needless to say, however much vigor coursed through this youth’s flesh and spirit, to Wang Jin’s eyes it resembled children’s play. Each swing and deflection, every blinding strike and thrust—all merged into a spectacular aerial dance of physical prowess. Shi Jin’s voice grew hoarse, his body wearied to the point where he felt his very organs might burst from his throat. Still he refused to yield—but in the instant he sensed—ah!—the open sky appeared inverted above his own legs. With a resonant thud, he found himself hurled to the ground.

“D-damn it!” The moment he tried to rise, he was thrown again, and the staff that had already left his grasp had shifted to Wang Jin’s hand. Then beneath that staff’s tip, the skin etched with nine dragons—now pried apart and pressed down, now fleeing only to be ensnared—finally collapsed like a spider batted about by a bamboo broom, as though utterly lifeless.

“Would someone please bring water for your son?”

As he spoke, Wang Jin approached Shi Jin and cradled his body on his lap. And while looking up at Taigong—his father—he made a pitiful face.

“……I may have gotten a bit carried away and overdone the discipline. However, he has no injuries anywhere, so please rest assured.”

“Not at all. For my son, it was good medicine.” Even so—it must have been a father’s heart after all. Without realizing it, Taigong gently wiped the cold sweat that had formed on his forehead with the sleeve of his Taoist robe.

And,

“Honored guest,” “Now that matters have reached this point, there is something I must discuss thoroughly.” “I shall have tea prepared and await you in my chamber.” “Though I fear it an imposition—might you bring my son along and join me afterward?” With cane in hand, he walked away toward the distant study building like a figure from a painting.

Upon seeing the tears of the greenwood outlaws, Shi Jin released them back into the wild.

This mountain village on Huayin County’s border was called Shijia Village. All three to four hundred households bore the surname Shi.

The Estate Master Taigong (village head) had overseen the village for generations, but he himself was already advanced in years. He wanted to pass on the succession to his son Shi Jin as soon as possible and retire. Therefore, that day, he made a proposal to guest instructor Wang Jin: though Wang Jin and his mother were mere transient travelers, would they consider becoming long-term teachers for his son Shi Jin and take up permanent residence in the village?

“Well…?” “Your kindness is truly appreciated, but—”

Wang Jin was at a loss for an answer. “I will speak honestly now—this unworthy one is not merely a traveling merchant. “Until very recently, I served as martial instructor for the eight hundred thousand Imperial Guardsmen. However, due to irreconcilable differences with the newly appointed General Gao Qiu, I fled the capital gates without authorization—in short, I am now a wanted man throughout the realm. ……Though your hospitality is most gracious, should I remain here, there can be no assurance that calamity will not befall your esteemed household.” “Therefore, though Your Excellency commands it, I cannot possibly accept this proposal.”

“Oh, honored guest. “In all my years, these old eyes have seen many a person. “Well, I had already sensed you were no ordinary man. “I am not surprised in the least now. “It is simply a request born entirely of my admiration for your esteemed character. “I beseech you to grant this request.” Following the elderly father’s entreaty, his son Shi Jin—who now seemed to have fully realized the immaturity of his self-centered staff techniques—joined him in restraining him with imploring gazes.

“Well, if Your Excellency insists to such an extent...” Thus did Wang Jin finally yield to the father and son’s earnest entreaties, deferring his departure that very day to formally establish a master-disciple covenant here.

“Though unworthy, I shall impart all techniques of the Eighteen Martial Arts within my knowledge to your son.” “Is your son’s name Shi Jin?” “Yes. Because I bear nine dragon tattoos upon my back, people call me by the nickname Nine-Tattooed Dragon Shi Jin.”

“Who taught you staff techniques?” “When I was a boy, there was a live-in guest at our household—a ronin named Li Zhong, the Tiger-Subduing General.” “What began as casual training became an obsession. Ever since then, whenever I saw traveling martial artists or ronin passing through the village, I challenged every single one of them to matches—but I never once lost.” “But today of all days…” “Hahahaha! Not quite what you’re used to?” “Never mind that. At nineteen or twenty years old, you’re still fortunate—if you return to your foundations, you can still be molded however needed.”

Thus, Instructor Wang Jin and his mother settled down in Shijia Village as they were. And for Shi Jin—the Nine-Tattooed Dragon, sole heir of the Shi family—Wang Jin, former martial instructor to the eight hundred thousand Imperial Guards, day by day provided hands-on instruction in secret techniques spanning the Eighteen Martial Arts.

The so-called Eighteen Martial Arts refer to: First: bow; Second: crossbow; Third: spear; Fourth: saber; Fifth: sword; Sixth: hook spear; Seventh: shield; Eighth: axe; Ninth: broadaxe; Tenth: halberd; Eleventh: iron whip; Twelfth: battle truncheon; Thirteenth: staff; Fourteenth: chain-and-sickle; Fifteenth: rake; Sixteenth: barbed fork; Seventeenth: capture ropes; Eighteenth: pugilism.

From that day forth, there was not a single day when the desperate shouts of “Hyaah!” and “Oof!” from the Young Dragon receiving instruction and his master could not be heard in the willow garden behind the Shi family estate. On rainy days, training was conducted on the broad veranda of the manor; come nightfall, voices lecturing on military texts could be heard across lamplight. The young Shi Jin showed remarkable improvement and, more than anything, was deeply influenced by Instructor Wang’s character. Indeed, even toward fragments of Instructor Wang’s tales of the capital and casual conversations, the mountain-raised youth—who had originally been so naive—began to harbor an extraordinary interest, gradually coming to realize the lowly stature of his current environment. And naturally, that youth had begun to stir toward the vast, wide world.

Before one knew it, over a year had passed here.

By this time, Wang Jin found himself pondering deeply.

"This won't do," Wang Jin thought. Nine-Tattooed Dragon was a rare genius who had thoroughly mastered even the secret depths of his Eighteen Martial Arts, but Taigong surely wished to have Shi Jin inherit the village headship and secure peace in his old age. "Should he awaken half-heartedly to worldly desires and come to despise his ancestral duties as village head and farming work, then conversely, the path I've instilled would become a curse upon the Shi family."

Having come to this realization—one day—

“Though we have long been in your care”—suddenly stating personal circumstances, he announced his departure to Taigong, his host.

"My mother says that while her legs and hips remain strong, she earnestly wishes to move to Yan'an Prefecture as we had previously resolved." "I have now imparted all of this unworthy one's martial arts to your son without reserve." "...May your family continue to prosper henceforth." When told of this abrupt farewell, Taigong was astonished, and his son Shi Jin grieved. But upon realizing persuasion would prove futile, they held a farewell banquet laden with silver coins and parting gifts for Wang Jin and his mother. When the day of departure arrived, they provided horses and attendants to escort them with utmost care to the neighboring county leading toward Guanxi Road.

—But after that.

Shi Jin, left behind, sank blankly into numb void. Unbearable desolation drove him to plunge himself into drink day after day. No—rather, an even greater hollowness engulfed his entire being. That autumn, his father Taigong suddenly fell ill and died. Perhaps spurred by this too, his recklessness morphed into outright self-destruction. He had always claimed farming ill-suited his nature. He all but abandoned household affairs. At his manor, he gathered only ruffians bearing no likeness to peasants—men who reveled in martial boasts while endlessly hunting for brawl partners across the land. Thus did Nine-Tattooed Dragon Shi Jin of Shijia Village earn a name that would hush even wailing children.

The shadowy outlines of undulating mountains could be glimpsed in the distance, yet from human habitation, their exact location remained indistinct—a realm beyond reckoning. There, deep in the mountains upon mountains of Huayin County, stood a solitary peak called Shaohua Mountain.

Heaven and earth belong to humans, and those humans are living beings. If one were to approach as though taking pride in declaring, "What’s strange about us building our stronghold here and living this way?"—there on Shaohua Mountain’s slopes too could be found thriving human presence and voices.

“Hey Yang Chun. “Nothin's goin' right lately.” “……Chen Da still holed up in that cave?” “Seems so.” “Heard he went down to Pucheng County three days back—sniffin' round like a wolf for decent work. Came back empty-handed last night.” “Mortal realm's starvin' proper this year.” “Nah, that ain't it.” “Same world where till spring, our six-seven hundred stronghold men were livin' easy as kings off the tribute from below?” “But now suddenly even the booze 'n' meat dried up—ain't that strange?”

“Chen Da was grumbling too, but no matter how you look at it, this has gotta be ’cause they went and issued those damn proclamations in Huayin County’s seat.” “Apparently, they’ve put a bounty of three thousand strings of cash on the heads of us three leaders, putting up placards along all the highways, banning travelers from walking at night, and encouraging the locals to form self-defense militias.” “They’re damn well mocking us.” “If that money’s sitting in the government office, they might as well just send it straight to us.” “If they’d just hand it over, we wouldn’t have to come down from the mountain for half a year—I’d keep ’em nice and quiet. Hahaha!”

Though summer reigned, an unceasing cold mist enveloped the mountains. Within the massive stockade's palisade gates, encampments of strange men smoldered here and there alongside their bonfires. Among them, behind a stone gate terrace and the great hall carved into the rocky cavern, clustered a group sharing drinks—none other than the leaders of Shaohua Mountain's seven hundred bandits: Zhu Wu the Divine Strategist, Yang Chun the White-Spotted Snake, and their ilk seated in a circle. Then—from the cave mouth—yet another figure,

“What’s this—if I thought it was a council meeting, turns out you’re just drinking without any flair?”

While stretching mightily, someone came lumbering down the stone steps. It was none other than Chen Da—the Leaping Gully Tiger—the very man the two had just been discussing. Needless to say, he too was one of the three leaders.

“Oh Chen Da.” “Being told we’ve got no flair—that’s downright shameful.” “But even you—after leavin’ the stronghold for three whole days—still came back empty-handed, didn’t ya?” “Ain’t wrong.” “But I do got a little somethin’ worth hearin’.” “What’s this—somethin’ worth hearin’?” “On my way back, I caught this rabbit-trappin’ hunter named Li Ji and heard somethin’—” “Hahaha! Poor bastard—you catch a rabbit skinner and skin ’im instead?”

“Don’t talk nonsense. Would this Chen Da ever stoop to bullying hunters or peasants? When we three exchanged the cup of brotherhood, the first oath we swore was that even as bandits, we’d never make the weak suffer. With Li Ji’s guidance, the target I marked ain’t some small-time mark.”

“Hmm.” “You’re having Hunter Li Ji guide you—where exactly do you plan to raid?” “The great manor of Shijia Village.” “That old family’s said to hold more wealth than meets the eye.”

“Brothers,” “That ain’t good.” “When it comes to Shijia Village—that’s a death trap, ain’t it?”

“Why?” “That village head’s place—it’s the Nine-Tattooed Dragon’s household.” “That’s absurd.” “How could we possibly go up against him?” “And you do realize the county office’s put three thousand strings on our heads—you couldn’t even steel yourself if they came huntin’ us down!” “But according to Li Ji, sure—the Nine-Tattooed Dragon’s got that rep of bein’ unbeatable across four counties—but when it comes down to it, he’s just some young master from an old family.” “All you gotta do is lose to him once, and he’ll treat you like royalty—let you stay for days, pour you wine, even hand out farewell gifts. Makes him easy pickings for drifters.” “But Li Ji says his real skills are probably just fancy gentleman’s tricks.”

“That’s no sure bet. Li Ji hasn’t tested it himself.” “Nah—regardless of all that, this Chen Da’s got confidence.” “In my hometown of Ye City, I was known as the Leaping Gully Tiger of the Long Spear.” “It’s unbearable that we three leaders of Shaohua Mountain are said to fear some greenhorn barely twenty years old.” “Especially when it’s a wealthy manor!” “How can we just sit on our hands?” Chen Da continued to boast relentlessly. The more Zhu Wu and Yang Chun tried to stop him, the more stubborn he became,

"Fine! Then I'll do it myself! You lot can keep swilling booze for all I care!" With that, he immediately sent out orders to his roughly two hundred subordinates and began preparing himself as if heading into battle. His attire commanded attention: a bowl-shaped helmet with crimson tassels, gilded armor fastened with cast-iron rivets, beneath which flashed glimpses of antique Shujiang sleeves, and crescent-shaped leather boots on his feet. With a braided silk belt bearing a broadsword of wide blade laid across it, his figure—majestically astride a white horse accustomed to mountain paths—truly lived up to the boasts of Shaohua Mountain’s bandit general who spoke of himself with pride.

He swung the long spear tucked under his arm once sideways, pointing its tip toward the western foothills, “Come on! The sun’ll set before we’re down the mountain!” “Those who think they’re men—follow me!” About two hundred subordinates sounded gongs and drums, and once at the palisade gate, let out a raucous cheer. And in an instant, they transformed into a serpentine column and descended toward the foothills.

“That’s far too reckless. Lately, Chen Da’s been acting a bit impatient, wouldn’t you say?”

“He’s the oldest of the three.” “He probably can’t just sit still—thinks of himself as the chief among chiefs and can’t bear seeing the stronghold’s decline around here.” “If that’s the case—though he’s a damnably unappealing opponent—we two can’t just sit idle either.”

Zhu Wu was originally born in Dingyuan Prefecture. When fighting, he often used dual swords, but his true expertise lay rather in military strategy and tactics—or so he himself claimed.

White Flower Snake Yang Chun hailed from Puzhou Jieliang and was a master of the great polearm blade. He had a slender waist and long arms, his pale face tinged with an ashen hue giving him the air of a demonic serpent—as his nickname suggested.

Whether it was the aforementioned Chen Da or these two men, all were likely once wandering scholars or upright commoners of the rivers and lakes. However, the governance of the Song Dynasty and Emperor Huizong’s extravagance had at last spread their disorder and corruption to every crossroads of society, so they must have deemed it foolishness to live by honest means—choosing instead to indulge in wild freedom and establish their stronghold among the Greenwood bandits at places like Shaohua Mountain.

After a moment, this second leader also descended toward Shijia Village with a large force of subordinates. As they pressed onward, the night deepened, and soon within the black night fog, a hazy red firelight came into view. There was no mistaking the direction of Shijia Village. Yang Chun halted his horse and called out to Zhu Wu’s shadow behind him.

“He’s going through with it!” “Look at that fire.” “Chen Da’s already ridden straight to the Nine-Tattooed Dragon’s manor.” “We can’t abandon our sworn brother in his calamity.” “Move quickly!”

However, before they even reached the foothills, Chen Da’s lieutenants and underlings came fleeing back in disarray. “What happened?” they asked. It turned out the village had been prepared—at the signal of alarm boards and gongs, tenant farmers and village youths had instantly gathered at the Nine-Tattooed Dragon’s household like well-trained soldiers, swiftly fortifying its defenses. However, the bandits under Chen Da’s command sneered “What do these peasants think they’re doing?,” charging their horses toward the gate while clanging warning clappers and gongs to intimidate. But they proved unexpectedly formidable. Under a storm of arrows and hurled firebrands, the clash soon erupted into a full-scale melee. Eventually, the Nine-Tattooed Dragon himself sallied forth. When he engaged their ally Chen Da in single combat, one might have expected sparks to fly between them—but anticlimactically, Chen Da’s long spear was struck down, and he was effortlessly captured by the Nine-Tattooed Dragon.

"Hmm..." "I had gauged his strength to some degree, but is the Nine-Tattooed Dragon truly this formidable?" "This doesn't even merit discussion." The subordinates had utterly lost their fighting spirit. Yet Zhu Wu and Yang Chun couldn't possibly retreat from this position now. That alone would dash to pieces the trust of seven hundred stronghold followers against the ground. And yet, from the very outset, they'd harbored no conceit of being able to confront Nine-Tattooed Dragon Shi Jin. Yang Chun's pallid face grew yet more ashen.

“What should we do, Boss?” “Once things have come to this, there’s no way around it. Leave it to me.”

Had some spark of Zhu Wu's signature strategic brilliance ignited? Zhu Wu immediately commanded all his subordinates to halt and, taking only Yang Chun with him, approached the interior of Shijia Village. The village soldiers who had quickly found them surrounded the pair and dragged them inside the gates.—Within the estate’s expansive willow garden, bonfires burned in various spots, and at the center tree, the captured Chen Da was bound; even now, they were in the midst of a raucous drinking feast using him as their entertainment.

“What? You’re saying the two leaders Zhu Wu and Yang Chun came here of their own will seeking bonds?” Now that’s odd. That tale reeks of suspicion.”

Shi Jin was sitting on a ceramic wine barrel. He wore armor of scaled leather adorned with vermilion lacquer and applied gold leaf, clad in a blue brocade battle coat and deep yellow boots. And beside him stood a single bow erected, while at his waist hung a double-edged, three-pointed eight-ringed sword. Whether from the exertion of recent combat after so long or the flush of wine, his brow bore an unmistakably cheerful countenance.

“Alright. Just drag those two here. They’re probably impostors, but hearing what lies they’ll spin could prove amusing. Make the bonfires brighter and drag them before me.” Even before laying eyes on Zhu Wu and Yang Chun, he had been thoroughly suspicious. If they were genuine, he intended to take full advantage of the situation—beheading all three leaders at once and making them into another round of drinking snacks. Yet as he listened to Zhu Wu and Yang Chun each plead their case in turn, the flush of wine gradually faded from his face, until at last even tears spilled forth.—Zhu Wu had imbued his words with particular pathos.

“Please take us two as captives along with our elder brother Chen Da and deliver us to the county magistrate’s office. They say there’s a bounty of three thousand strings of cash for the heads of us three. If you would distribute that money to the impoverished people of the surrounding villages, it would fulfill our true desire all the more... From the very beginning, we three—Chen, Yang, and Zhu—swore that even if we became bandits, we would be righteous ones, pledging as sworn brothers by drinking each other’s blood and vowing to remain united even in death. Now that our elder brother Chen Da has been captured, we two remaining cannot go on living. Even were we to attempt resistance again, we could never hope to match you. Now pass whatever judgment you will upon us.”

Shi Jin's pure-heartedness seemed utterly struck by this. He marveled that even bandits could harbor such righteousness, and he greatly approved of their claim to champion the poor. Being the big-hearted man he was, demonstrating such magnanimity before the gathered villagers likely brought him no small pleasure. "Hey, untie Chen Da's bonds." "And bring cups for these three as well." Shi Jin immediately strode with grand bearing toward the three speechless men.

“Even thieves have three parts reason, and I’ve heard comrades hold fast to duty—but your depth of honor is truly admirable. Rest easy. I’ve loathed being a lackey for rotten officials since the day I was born. I don’t even want to lay hands on the bounty. Now drink up, and while you still have light at your feet, get lost right away—whether to Shaohua Mountain or wherever. However, if I hear of anyone bullying peasants in these three neighboring counties, there’s no telling when the Nine-Tattooed Dragon might come to collect your heads.”

The three men prostrated themselves on the ground and kowtowed a hundred times to the Nine-Tattooed Dragon. In the end, they drank both wine and tears together. It was as though grateful animals were released from human hands. Before long, looking back again and again, they left Shijia Village for their original Shaohua Mountain while dawn was still early.

Shi Jin abandoned his hometown and rushed to Wei River; he was to meet Commander Lu Zhishen in the city. Even among their own comrades，they knew the proverb: “A tiger does not devour prey that prostrates itself.” “That shows the measure of the Nine-Tattooed Dragon’s magnanimity.” From that moment onward，Yang Chun，Chen Da—and even Zhu Wu—became utterly convinced of Shi Jin’s worth.

As for Shi Jin, he had long since forgotten such matters. Then one night at dusk, a bandit underling carrying a load of gifts secretly came to Shi Jin’s residence. “It’s hardly enough to call repayment for your kindness, but please accept this token of our gratitude.” “Ah, I nearly forgot—the three leaders of the mountain also send their most sincere regards.” As if to discard them, he left the gifts there and departed.

When they opened it later, they found animal pelts, various mountain goods, and approximately thirty ryō of gold bullion inside. Shi Jin laughed.

"Somehow, this doesn't sit right to keep taking." "But from their perspective, it must be their utmost show of goodwill." "Ah well." "I'll find some proper use for the gold when the time comes." "Store it away—just store it all away." Yet after that too, gifts kept arriving intermittently from the mountain. At times they even sent over splendid jewels and such. Shi Jin himself, feeling it improper to only receive without reciprocation, had ancestral crimson brocade tailored into three ceremonial robes. He packed fat-glistened roasted lamb into a large lacquered box and sent these to the mountain stronghold as thanks for their regular tributes.

Among the Shi family’s servants was a man named Wang Si. To serve as envoy, they assigned this man with one field laborer in tow. When the two reached the mountain’s foot, bandit sentries captured them. However— “We come as envoys of Lord Nine-Tattooed Dragon.”

Upon hearing this, they took the lead and guided them to the mountain stronghold. Moreover, Zhu Wu and the three leaders also showed their appreciation for Wang Si’s efforts, sparing no hospitality. They served wine and sumptuous dishes. “We have not forgotten Lord Shi Jin’s kindness for a single day.” They said things like this. And then, upon their departure, they gave ten ryō of silver to the two envoys. Shi Jin, upon hearing Wang Si’s report,

“Did they rejoice that much?” “And they’d been talking that much about me too?” This too didn’t leave a bad taste with him.

As his interactions with them deepened, Shi Jin had lost all sense that they were bandits. He had come to regard it simply as a bond between men.

In time, when autumn was at its midpoint, Shi Jin conceived of hosting a moon-viewing banquet. He resolved to open wine jars under the Mid-Autumn Festival's famed moon and drink freely while conversing with those three—Zhu Wu, Yang Chun, and Chen Da. Accordingly, he again had Wang Si carry an invitation to Shaohua Mountain as had become customary. Needless to say, Zhu Wu and his companions rejoiced at this. "—We shall most certainly attend," they declared. The bandit leaders drafted their reply letter, added four or five ryō of silver for messenger fees, and handed these to Wang Si. Furthermore, they plied him with over ten bowls of wine before sending him off, leaving the servant thoroughly intoxicated with good cheer.

Staggering unsteadily, staggering unsteadily, as he descended the mountain path in drunken steps, he encountered a familiar bandit underling he knew by sight.

“Heeey, Boss,” Wang Si slurred as he embraced the man, who was thoroughly drunk himself. “Well if it ain’t Master Wang,” the bandit replied, scrubbing at his bearded face. Thus culminated not the refined dialogues of fishermen and woodcutters, but a thoroughly sloshed exchange. Two heads and four legs entwined together went lurching once more into the foothills’ tavern.

They must have drunk quite a lot.

That night, after parting ways with the man, Wang Si fell asleep in a field of pampas grass along the way. Had matters ended there, that single slumber would have been paradise itself. However, at that very moment, a hunter happened to pass by. This was none other than Li Ji the rabbit hunter—the very man who had earlier guided Chen Da to attack Shi Jin. Li Ji’s scheme had gone awry in that affair, and ever since, the villagers had viewed him with contempt—but this was the same Li Ji who’d always possessed cunning surpassing even that of foxes. Right at this very moment, as he stumbled,

“Well, well, this here is Wang Si from Shi Jin’s household.” “Hmm?”

He approached the alcohol-reeking unconscious body and, feigning kindness, patted and searched through the waist pouch. Then his hand seemed to touch silver coins and a letter. Li Ji cast his fox-like eyes about.

The next morning. While Li Ji was rushing to the county office with that letter to secretly report them, Wang Si—on the other side of events—stood before his master Shi Jin with an utterly dejected expression, delivering his report. "I have returned.—'We would be honored to accept your generous invitation,' was the reply from the three leaders." "So you've only just returned now, Wang Si? You were terribly late." "Well... I ended up being treated to a feast at the mountain stronghold, you see..."

“Once they bring out the wine, you lose all self-control. Never mind that—more importantly, hurry to the kitchen and have them prepare tomorrow’s dishes and bring out the utensils from the storehouse.”

The next day was the Mid-Autumn Festival. The Shi family's tenant farmers and servants were busy since noon preparing the banquet seating. They slaughtered sheep and killed ducks and chickens—dozens upon dozens of fowl, though the exact number remained unclear. The hundred delicacies simmered since the previous day were arrayed on silver platters, and they brought out numerous jugs of the house-stored premium sake, all set before the guests with their seals just waiting to be broken.

Before long, Zhu Wu, Chen Da, and Yang Chun arrived punctually, wearing beneath their armor the red brocade robes that Shi Jin had previously gifted them. The reception was handled by local stalwarts and village maidens. Shi Jin seated the three in the seats of honor,

“Ah! You’ve come at last!” “Since ancient times, true heroes have always recognized their own kind.” “The moon hangs bright, cassia blossoms cast their shadows—tonight let us speak until our hearts are content.” “Now then—make yourselves at home!” They raised their cups together. As night deepened, the moon’s radiance intensified. Dewdrops jeweled the cassia branches while host and guests reveled without restraint. Each burst of laughter and conversation seemed to drain another jar of wine dry. Then abruptly—Shi Jin and the three bandit leaders started as one, falling silent. Beyond the wide earthen walls pressed the tide-like presence of men and horses. When they listened closely, these words reached them:

“Hey Shi Jin! Open the gate!” “If you don’t open up, we’ll kick it down!” “We have an informant’s report—it’s clear those Shaohua Mountain bandits are gathered in this manor tonight!” “Every direction’s blocked—there’s no escape!” “Hand over the bandits or we storm in!” “Well? What’ll it be?” “So an informant ratted us out,” Shi Jin clicked his tongue. “County officers had the gall to attack? ‘Flowers meet storms and clouds shroud the moon,’ as they say—but this ambush comes too damn early.”

Shi Jin clicked his tongue. “My guests. There’s no need to panic. For now, keep drinking as you are.”

He ran out from the banquet. Placing a ladder against the wall, he climbed up and shouted down at the forces outside the gate. Thick smoke billowed from countless torches. Cross-shaped spears, five-pronged halberds, sleeve-entanglers - all manner of arrest tools gleamed ominously in the firelight. “Ho there! Master Shi Jin! “This is none other than the County Sheriff! “Hand over those bandits bound by your own hands, and all will be well—otherwise—”

“Now now—let’s keep calm,” Shi Jin countered. “After going through all this trouble to invite those three bandit chiefs and get them properly drunk—” “Then you claim you share no mother’s milk with these brigands?” snapped the sheriff. “Don’t mock me,” Shi Jin retorted. “This may sound boastful, but my family has been Shijia Village’s foremost lineage for generations—landowners since ancestral times! What honor could I possibly gain by conspiring with mountain rats? Far better you pay out that three thousand guan bounty you’ve posted.” “The reward stands as decreed,” came the reply. “Provided you surrender them here and now.”

“So keep your voices down and wait encircling this place from a distance. Let them drink sake and get them tied up in a line like prayer beads—then I’ll open this gate here.”

Shi Jin returned to the banquet and abruptly commanded his family members and young men to gather the most notable gold, silver, and treasures from the household stores. He then had dozens of sturdy men carry these loads—down to the belongings of the women and children. And he ordered them to set fire to the thatched hut at the rear of the house. The startled three leaders were,

“Wh-why are you burning down this mansion?” “...Surely you don’t mean to protect us...?” “No—it’s to demonstrate my integrity.” “Because tonight’s events are exactly like setting a trap for you all.”

“This is no joke.” “No matter what may happen, we are not ones who would think that Lord Nine-Tattooed Dragon has trapped us in a snare.” “Hey! Please wait! Setting fire—”

While screaming toward one side, they wrapped both hands behind their backs and declared with a show of resolve. "When we consider how we—mere bandits by trade—dared seek fellowship with one as upright as yourself and caused such inconvenience, it is we who should apologize." "Now that tribute comes due, go ahead—bind us with ropes and deliver us to the county officials." "Enough nonsense!" "If I did such a thing, Shi Jin's honor as a man would be ruined forever." "To ask this of me is no different than demanding I become a beggar... Ah! The flames have taken hold!" "Regardless—let's cut through here and make temporary refuge at your mountain stronghold."

When they saw the fire inside the mansion, their shouts rose again outside the gate. By now, Shi Jin had already removed the gate's latch with his spear tucked under his arm and leaped out, so Zhu Wu, Yang Chun, Chen Da, and the others had no choice but to cut their way out alongside him. The black smoke instantly resembled a gale-driven cloud soaring; the bright moon, stained blood-red, looked down upon the rain of sword glints and screams below. Before long, like wind-swept leaves, the County Sheriff's horses and crowd of captors scattered in flight.

Meanwhile,

Meanwhile, there was also a line of figures dashing headlong toward Shaohua Mountain. And in the desolate dawn of Shijia Village after all had departed, the century-old great ridgepole of the old house, the storehouse, and the surrounding trees still crackled and spat sparks as they whipped the raging flames into frenzy alone. When I think about it—I was such a fool. —Shi Jin muttered self-mockingly. —My ancestors must surely be lamenting. But with this born disposition of mine—there's no helping it. Because at that moment—that shred of righteousness toward those three bandits had felt heavier than all my family's wealth—the sin of siring such a son must lie with my ancestors after all—he thought.

"...But lingering endlessly in this mountain stronghold with nothing accomplished will lead nowhere." "Right—now that I'm free and unencumbered with no family estate left, I should go to Yan'an Prefecture to seek out Master Wang, whom I parted ways with years ago."

It was about a month after they had gone into hiding at Shaohua Mountain.

Shi Jin the Nine-Tattooed Dragon confided his resolute heart to the three leaders and,

“I’m sorry, but when the time comes, please return the servants and young men who took refuge here to their proper occupations.” “As for the gold and silver I brought, when the time comes, you should divide it among yourselves.” “I will now set out on a journey to Guanxi to seek my master, Master Wang Jin.” Of course, both the bandit leaders like Zhu Wu and Chen Da and the villagers grieved over parting with him and did their utmost to stop him. Yet this wandering stemmed from none other than Shi Jin’s own destiny—he had been born as one star among the 108 Stars. For it was he who would become the vanguard first star, destined to gather all those Heavenly Spirits and Earthly Fiends at the Water Margin stronghold—a place where frost-clad halberds would one day be arrayed along reed-strewn riverbanks, and warships lie concealed beneath swaying fronds.

Now then—having left Shaohua Mountain.

The figure of Shi Jin, who had drifted forth on his journey, sported a dashing style perfectly suited to Song Dynasty youths’ tastes. His white lambswool Fanyang hat with folded corners bore fluttering rose-colored tassels, while the navy headband securing his hair featured an egg-yolk-hued decorative band. Likely disdaining gaudy primaries, he wore a white hemp battle robe with a short hem—its waist cinched by a red plum-patterned cord—from which hung an elegant longsword, completed by blue-and-white striped gaiters that lent an agile look. The footwear consisted of eight-node hemp sandals built to endure long travels.

But even if he took care to dress with flair, he couldn’t afford to be choosy about lodgings or food. He slept in the wilds and bedded down in the mountains. That too became a journey of over twenty days. Before long, he arrived at a city called Weizhou.

"Ah," he thought. "So there was also a military office here—a defensive outpost against foreign tribes—among these cities." "Perhaps I might discover Master Wang’s whereabouts here."

When he walked inside, the city was bustling with streets and markets. In a bustling corner, there stood a tea shop. He went straight inside and sat down on a bench.

“Hey, old man. Get me a cup of tea.” “Yes, yes. …Are you travelers, sir?”

“That’s right,” “Don’t you know, old man?” “I’ve come seeking someone from the Eastern Capital of Kaifeng known as Master Wang Jin.” “Well now, several gentlemen bearing the Wang surname reside at this military office.” “But with only that to go by, I’m afraid...”

Then from outside, a burly man suddenly strode in with large steps. His stout, fleshy frame was wrapped in a dark green damask battle robe; on his head was a black gauze swastika headcloth, adorned with a golden emblem that gleamed brightly. Moreover, the light in his eyes was extraordinary, and a shaggy beard surrounded his round, ruddy face. At his waist was a Taiyuan-style belt cord and a sword adorned with a golden ring.—Needless to say, this was military attire. Moreover, his height was such that one had to look up at him, and his waist was nearly double that of an ordinary person.

“Oh, this is the Provost (Military Police Officer), sir. …What perfect timing.” “There, sir.” “As for the person you’re inquiring about, why don’t you kindly ask this gentleman here?”

Shi Jin stood up from the bench and politely— “This may be impertinent, but I have something to ask.” “What?” “You got business with me?” “No, sir.” “I am Shi Jin from Huayin County, Hua Prefecture. Might there be a certain Wang Jin—formerly an Imperial Guard instructor in the Eastern Capital—residing in this area?” “Or perhaps you might have heard any rumors regarding that gentleman?” “Nah…” The Provost shook his bearded face from side to side but then stared wide-eyed and—

“Master Wang isn’t at this post—but might you be Shi Jin of Shijia Village?” “What? How do you know me?” “Truly, you surpass what I’d heard.” “I’ve long known of you.” “And regarding Master Wang you seek—it’s not that I don’t know.” “If I may ask your honored name?” “I serve as provost in the military office—my surname is Lu, given name Da.” “So you’re Provost Lu, then?” “No—this hardly feels like our first meeting.” “Well now.”

“That’s right—we can’t let this encounter be treated as some passing trifle. How about it? Tea’s too dull. Let’s share a proper drink somewhere.” “Thank you. But where exactly might Master Wang be residing?”

“The governance of this Weizhou is currently overseen by the son of His Excellency Commander-in-Chief Zhong of Yan’an Prefecture. The Master Wang you seek undoubtedly went to visit His Excellency Zhong. He’s likely still in Yan’an.” “That eases my worries,” said Shi Jin. “Then I’ll gratefully accept your invitation.” “Old man,” barked Provost Lu with military police brusqueness, “charge the tea to my account.”

The two walked out shoulder to shoulder into the street.

Both Lu Zhishen’s robust build and Shi Jin’s figure stood out conspicuously among the bustling market crowd. After walking several hundred steps, they came upon a vacant lot in the town center that resembled a missing tooth, where a dark mass of onlookers had gathered. On a whim, the two peered over people’s shoulders and saw what appeared to be a street performer delivering a spiel. Street performers come in all sorts, but the one there in the vacant lot, straining a hoarse voice, was a man who had the look of a skinny ronin in his thirties. Clad in a grimy black robe with tassels from a wide flat sash hanging sideways, wearing a sword with a strongly curved ivory hilt, the tips of his crescent-moon boots flicking wildly left and right, he sniffled snot while speaking and occasionally flicked snot from his hand with a snap, all while delivering his eloquent spiel.

He wasn’t just making his feet leap about incessantly. In his left and right hands he held one staff each, and in response to his words and shouts, he whirled the two staffs like a pair of umbrellas. —and then, he was in the midst of delivering a spiel that seemed to declare, “Today, I shall present to you numerous secret techniques rarely revealed on public streets!—” “Huh? Wha— “This is quite a coincidence!”

Suddenly, Shi Jin muttered amidst the crowd, so Provost Lu turned his large eyes back to his companion’s face.

“Huh? What a coincidence. Do you know that street performer from somewhere?” “It’s not just knowing him. He’s Li Zhong, the Tiger-Subduing General who taught me staff techniques when I was a boy in my village.” At that moment, Li Zhong the street performer had noticed too. “Oh! If it isn’t the young master!” “As I thought—it was you, Master. What an unexpected place to meet!” “Being called ‘Master’ makes me blush. To your esteemed household, I remain but Li Zhong—that troublesome freeloader who overstayed his welcome.”

Lu Zhishen interjected from the side. "Ah, who cares about that? We're on our way to get a drink right now. You come along too!"

“Please wait,” said Li Zhong. “I’ve just distributed ointments to the crowd. Let me collect payment first, then I’ll join you.” “Quit dawdling!” Lu Zhishen barked. “You’re peddling worthless salves anyway. Hurry up!” “Now hold on—this is commerce,” Li Zhong protested. “Customers take priority—you can’t rush these matters. If you insist, go ahead without me—both Young Master and Provost.”

“Hey, you lot of onlookers!” said Lu Zhishen, immediately adopting his provost demeanor. “Don’t act shameless and play dumb. If you don’t toss coins to the performer pronto, I’ll pummel you!” At the sight of Lu Zhishen’s hairy knuckles, all was lost. Not a single coin fell, and the spectators scattered like spider’s young in an instant.

In the morning they saw off the singing girl Cui-lian, and by the evening's glow Provost Lu too had fled.

In Weizhou as well, there was a restaurant called Pan Restaurant by the Zhou Bridge in the city center. First, Lu Zhishen led the way inside.

“Hey! Is there a free table on the second floor?” “Oh! If it isn’t Provost (Military Police) sir.” “Welcome, sir.” “Now please proceed upstairs.”

Wherever he went, Provost Lu’s authority and imposing appearance commanded fear. Ignoring even the cashier’s greetings, he led Shi Jin and Li Zhong upstairs, circled a table there, and the three of them sat down around it like a tripod.

“Hey.” “Bring the wine quickly!” “And don’t hold back on the appetizers—just bring out every delicious dish you’ve got!”

As the table grew lively, they rested their cheeks on their hands and looked around at the four walls, where gold-leafed plaques hung with vermilion-inked characters reading: Where winds linger beneath willow shade—the wine banner of peace, Wine flows as freely as the fair one's tangled sighs, Apricot blossoms sweetly, aspirations yet unfulfilled, Let us sing boisterously awhile and enter the realm of intoxication. ...such couplets were inscribed. Venting their worldly grievances and engaging in lighthearted banter, the three of them grew thoroughly merry and became close comrades. They lost count of how many square bottles—four-gō wine jugs—they had called to their table. But occasionally, a mood-killing irritation—like needles pricking Provost Lu’s nerves—seeped in. For some time now, a woman’s sniffling sobs had been coming from somewhere. He finally surrendered to his innate short temper and began stomping his foot on the floor while roaring.

“Oi! Waiter!” “Yes sir! Would you like another square bottle?” “You idiot! No matter how much I drink, I keep sobering up from that!” “What’s with the sniveling like a leaky roof from next door?” “Well... Our apologies.” “Was the noise troubling your ears?” “Of course it is!” “You’ve got nerves and ears too, don’t you!” “It’s downright rude to the guests I brought here!” “That’s a woman crying, isn’t it?” “They’re just itinerant singers—a mother and daughter who perform at taverns.”

“Hmm.” “So then, you’re the one who bullied some weakling and made ’em cry, huh?”

“Y-you must be joking! On the contrary—since it wasn’t even time to light the evening lamps yet, we had them in the next room with some dim sum (sweets) to placate them. We’ll drive them away right away, so…”

“Wait, wait. Even you think they’re pitiable—so you’d have them chased away, and then my wine would taste better for it? Bring them here—right here!” “Is this acceptable…?” “She’s a daughter accompanied by her father, sir.” “You fool! It’s not about any lustful intentions!” Parting the greasy boundary curtain, when he saw the father and daughter singers being led in, they were of course the kind of impoverished itinerant performers commonly seen in the night streets. The old man held four-bamboo clappers, and the daughter cradled a huqin.

In a chill-inducing white lined garment that dragged a crimson gauze skirt, the pallid thinness of her powdered face showed not only on her cheeks but cast a faint shadow across her shoulders. Yet a single cheap jade hairpin in her hair made this girl—who was no great beauty—appear all the more lovely, like an autumn butterfly. “This is unbearable—now you’re crying here too?” “I beg you—just stop crying.” “Instead of that, why not tell me what grieves you?”

“Yes…” At last, the daughter released her sleeve from her sobs. And then, together with the old man who had been doing nothing but apologizing since earlier, “We were originally from Kaifeng’s Eastern Capital, but suffering under heavy taxes, our business failed, and we drifted to this Weizhou.” “However, the relatives we had hoped to rely upon were nowhere to be found, and with us dwelling in traveler’s lodgings, our mother too succumbed to a prolonged illness, leaving us with not a single possession left to sell.” “...and so, having fallen for people’s honeyed words and come under the care of a certain person, that very mistake became what has bound us to such harsh blame and karmic retribution.”

and they finally mustered the courage to reveal how they had fallen into the trap of a malicious man—one who could be called “street vermin.” A common scheme. To this father and daughter, who had been at their wits' end in their lodging house residence, a kind soul—like a Buddha appearing in hell—had come. They had been made to believe—as if worshiping—that such kindness could exist in this world, when the man used the innkeeper to propose a coercive arrangement for her to become his concubine. When they reluctantly agreed, he next promised to house them and provide furnishings and clothing—but claimed this required investing significant capital in her person. He demanded they write a promissory note for three thousand guan as ransom.

However, though he had taken them in, his legal wife—a tiger-like woman—drove them out of the household within three months. Not only that—they didn’t even give them a single piece of clothing, let alone a single copper coin for the ransom note they’d been forced to write earlier. What’s more, afterward, the man would take up the blank promissory note and make a forceful demand: “Return the ransom money I gave you earlier.” The innkeeper, though fully aware it was all lies, colluded with him and harassed the father and daughter daily like a usurious moneylender. Yet despite them eking out their fragile lives each night in Weizhou’s red-light district through the ephemeral duet of four-bamboo clappers and huqin, seventy percent of their earnings would be extracted by devils’ hands the moment they returned to their roost. “...There was nothing left but to die,” they related, having been driven to the narrow confines of despair.

“...Hmmph.” “The world’s full of rotten bastards.” “Now then, old man—your name? And how old’s your daughter?” Provost Lu’s eyes grew moist. Though his smoldering anger remained, he kept blinking rapidly. “This humble one’s family name is Jin, sir. My daughter Cuilian here is nineteen.” “The inn you’re staying at—” “It’s a cheap lodging called the Lu Family Inn inside East Gate, but—” “Hah!” “That Lu place?” “No—the real villain ain’t them! It’s that scum who’s been sweet-talking your girl while squeezing every copper from your nightly earnings!” “Where’s this bastard from? What’s his name?”

“If we speak of such things, who knows what terrible fate might befall us again later.” “Don’t be stupid! I’m Lu Da—the Provost of this province that everyone knows! No need to fear. I’ve got your backs.” “Truth be told...that man is Great Master Zheng of Zheng.” “Great Master Zheng?” “Yes, he runs a large butcher shop at Zhuangyuan Bridge’s west end—the most prominent figure in all Kansai...” “Huh, that Zheng?” Provost Lu clicked his tongue like spitting. “Callin’ him ‘Great Master Zheng’ all polite-like—I wondered who you meant! That fat pig-slaughtering bastard? Now that this has reached my ears, I ain’t lettin’ it slide!”

Lu Da turned toward his companions Shi Jin and Li Zhong. “Would you both stay here and keep drinking? I’ll dash over there, give that scoundrel a proper thrashing, and come right back.” Shi Jin wore a look of exasperation at his impatience. “Now, why don’t you save it for tomorrow? Today is a rare and delightful occasion with the three of us gathered here in this lively trio. The drinks and conversation have only just begun!” “I see. That’s true too—” Lu Da finally relented, adopting the air of one who had reconsidered. “……Then, I’ll put up the five taels I have on me here. My apologies, but could you also give these pitiful tavern performers a parting gift, thinking of it as having them sing an evening’s song? …I want to use that to send them back to their hometown.”

“Ah, you’ve hit upon an excellent idea!”

Shi Jin immediately took out ten taels. But for Li Zhong the ointment seller, it was a bit difficult. Seeing him reluctantly place about two taels on the table, Lu Da flicked it back with a flick of his fingernail.

“What’s this, you stingy bastard—only two taels? Ah, well—old man, with fifteen taels here, you can settle the inn bill and use what’s left for travel home. …And there they go, sniveling again.” “Enough already! Didn’t I say mushiness is strictly forbidden around me?” “Come on now—take this and rest from your wandering tonight. Hurry back to the inn to start sorting out your departure.” “Whatever bilge the innkeeper spews, don’t fret one whit about it.” “I’ll come check on that Lu Family inn myself come morning.”

With this, everything must have been settled. Even after Jin Cuilian and her father had repeatedly bowed and taken their leave, the three men continued merrily drinking until the lamps were lit. And then, staggering into the night streets, they soon reached a crossroads,

“―Well then, let’s meet again someday.”

And so Shi Jin, Li Zhong, and Provost Lu each parted ways toward their respective destinations.

The next morning.—Lu Da appeared in the outskirts town, his imposing frame clad once more in that familiar military police uniform, and stood at the entrance of the Lu Family inn. When he looked under the eaves of the inn, a handcart was piled with small bundles, dish baskets, and a household’s worth of tattered belongings wrapped in rags. “So these are the Cui-lian father and daughter’s departure luggage,” he thought with momentary relief—but no sooner had this crossed his mind than from deep within came the innkeeper’s shouting, followed by the clattering clamor of Cui-lian’s apologies and screams.

“Hey! Old Liu and daughter—what’re you doing?” “Get out, get out!”

When Lu Da’s voice was heard outside, the innkeeper rushed out and confronted him now. “Cui-lian has a loan contract.” “I was entrusted by Master Zheng to collect this debt—how could I possibly let them leave like this?” “Or are you saying you’ll pay three thousand guan right here in full instead?!” he snarled, his face twisted in fury.

“Don’t fuck with me—you’re just another bloodsucker! You bloodsucking pest of a bastard!” He raised his foot high and kicked the innkeeper in the chest—though he intended it to be a light blow, the innkeeper’s body rolled three or four times like a ball.

As the innkeeper began to rise—"...Tch! Damn bastard!"—a second kick from Lu’s boot sent him flying again. From the ditch where his shadow had vanished came a high spray of black mud. "You damn Provost! How dare you throw our master into the ditch!" The speaker appeared to be one of the young workers employed there. Though outmatched, he valiantly charged forward with firewood raised to strike. Lu Da didn’t bother dodging—he simply grabbed some part of the man’s body. A startled cry rang through the air as he hurled him onto the eaves; wood shattered and he crashed down with a heavy thud.

“Come on, Cui-lian, old man—hurry and push the handcart out of here. What are you trembling for? I’ll stay here and see you off. Don’t worry, don’t worry—hurry on your journey!” Glancing back again and again through the morning mist, the father and daughter withdrew from Weizhou’s outskirts—toward their figures, Lu Da gave a slight wave of his large hand.

And he himself then began ploddingly walking from the crossroads in the outskirts toward the bustling main street.

“Hey, boss.” “Business is booming as always.” “Cut me ten catties of your finest meat into dice-sized pieces, will ya?”

At the base of Zhuangyuan Bridge. Lu Da walked all the way into the large shop that appeared to handle both wholesale and retail meat sales, then plopped down onto one of the chairs there. With his large eyes glaring sharply around, he took in everything—from the meat-cutting counters where over ten clerks stood working, to the numerous naked pigs hanging behind them, and even the counter area where Zheng, who bore an uncanny resemblance to those very pigs, sat hunched over with a brush in hand. “Well now! If it isn’t Provost sir!” Zheng exclaimed upon recognizing him, swiftly stepping away from the counter— “What an unexpected honor!” “For you to personally come on official business like this…”

“You don’t need to blather on. Today I’ve been invited to my lord Commander Zhong’s young master’s estate—Zhong being his family name, and Jinglue his title as a fortress lord guarding against foreign tribes. Cut it from parts where there’s not a speck of fat mixed in.”

“Understood.” “Hey—dice it into cubes.” “You there! Shop crew! Ten catties of absolute prime cut—make it quick!”

“Wait a moment.” “You’re the owner of a butcher shop, aren’t you?” “They call you some big shot of the Five Routes of Kansai—you think this influence and prosperity comes from anything but Young Master Zhong’s patronage?” “Cut it yourself.” “I’m deeply honored, sir.” “Truly, at times like these, one must simply do one’s utmost…” Zheng immediately stationed himself before the meat-cutting counter. Then—as befitting his skill—he wielded the large cleaver with practiced flair, selecting each cut with meticulous care until at last—

“My apologies for keeping you waiting,” he said as he wrapped it in a large lotus leaf and presented it. Lu Da gave a nod.

“Put it there.” “Next—another ten catties from a part that’s pure fat.”

“Huh. What do you need all that fat for, sir?” “Don’t ask unnecessary questions. And dice them up, I said!”

"This is tough..." "But I'll manage." After another half-hour had passed and Zheng wrapped and presented this as well, Lu Da next commanded him to cut ten catties of nothing but pork cartilage into dice-sized pieces in the same manner. Even Zheng wore a sullen expression at this, but he masked it with a laugh. “Sir, you’re being mean. "You can’t just mess with me like this, sir!”

“Don’t spout clever nonsense.” “To begin with, that mug of yours was practically made to be messed with!”

“What?!” A thick blue vein flared up on Zheng’s temple. “Hey—go on, say that one more time.” “It’s precisely because you’re the Provincial Provost that I’ve been swallowing my rage all this time!”

“Is that so?” Lu Zhishen retorted. “I’ve been waiting for you to show your true colors too. Peel off another layer!” No sooner had he spoken than Lu Da hurled two lotus-leaf-wrapped bundles of meat squarely at Zheng’s face. The moment the meat shower struck him, Zheng grabbed a sharp bone-slicing cleaver and vaulted over the butcher’s block. “You!” he roared. “You’ve crossed the line now!” In one fluid motion, Zheng lowered his stocky frame and barreled into Lu Da’s chest. The sharp crack that followed came from Lu Da’s palm striking Zheng’s cheek an instant before impact. As Zheng staggered from the blow to his unsteady stance, another strike—

“Today’s opponent’s a cut above, you swine.”

He sent him flying from the shopfront into the street with a kick. Zheng surged to his feet like a blazing fireball. But no sooner had he stood up than Lu Da’s iron fist struck him at the corner of his eye with one blow, forcing out a strange “Gah!” cry. The scene was Zhuangyuan Bridge’s main thoroughfare—instantly enveloped by the clamor of a sea of onlookers. As the big shot of the Five Routes of Kansai, he couldn’t very well flee now. Clinging to Lu Da’s massive waist with deep tenacity, he refused to let go. “You damn street vermin! You really sucked that pitiful singing father and daughter dry to the very marrow! This taste is your interest on that debt!”

The iron fist that shook free and thrust upward shattered Zheng’s jaw; the face struck down onto its back gushed blood and appeared completely limp. “Take that!” Lu Zhishen barked, stomping down on his chest in a dramatic pose—but Zheng’s resistance ended there. At a glance, one eye spilled from its socket while his teeth bit into his tongue. “Damn it... This guy’s done for. He’s dead.”

Lu Da showed a hint of regret. He immediately began pushing through the crowd of onlookers to leave, but upon glancing back, deliberately hurled such a parting shot over his shoulder.

“Tch.” “Nothing but empty wind, you.” “You’re putting on a damn act of being dead!”

No sooner had he crossed Zhuangyuan Bridge than his walking pace quickened. "I’ve done something terrible—completely by accident," he thought. The Provost charged with protecting the people’s peace had beaten one of them to death. "This won’t end without consequences," he muttered inwardly, hounded by self-reproach. No sooner had he returned to his lodgings than he stuffed his belongings and silver into his robe, left that month’s rent in the room, and bolted into nowhereness. Staff gripped tight in hand, he struck a pose reminiscent of Sun Wukong—the Great Sage Equal to Heaven—soaring through clouds.

All too predictably, that same afternoon, Wang Guancha, an official of the prefecture, descended upon the lodging house there with a host of constables in tow—but by then, Provost Lu had already flown the coop.

However, as the Five Routes boss—Zheng’s bereaved family and henchmen—possessed both wealth and capacity for violence. Moreover, an exaggerated complaint had also been filed from the Lu family’s inn to the prefectural office simultaneously. Naturally, the Prefect could not disregard this either.—A decree was issued that regarding the fugitive Provost Lu Da: in every corner of the realm, regardless of time or place, he was to be arrested and punished without hesitation upon discovery. Needless to say, detailed wanted posters describing his particularly distinctive features—appearance, height, and such—were distributed to various counties as well.

Lanhua's eyelids met her benefactor and brimmed with tears,

The razor of Mount Wutai would make Lu a monk. Using chopsticks does not require physical strength. Great men too, surprisingly, become vulnerable to the world when they lose their positions. After his flight, Lu Zhishen lay hidden in fields and slept in mountains; now, even his empty stomach had taken on the appearance of a seasoned veteran. Several months had passed in wandering.

Before long, his figure was found in the streets of Dai Prefecture’s Yanmen County (northern Shanxi Province). The city was encircled by walls spanning eight zhou-li in circumference, while Yanmen Pass at Mount Yanmen stood ever prepared against invasions by the Northern Di tribes. Moreover, since ancient times—repeatedly invaded by Xiongnu southern incursions—the ancient scars of history had not erased their sorrowful shadows from this bustling place even now. “Oh great—another damn crowd gawking at notices here,” Lu Zhishen muttered to himself. “And after coming all this way—I’d truly thought there’d be no more of this...”

Amid the bustling street crowd, Lu Da gazed nonchalantly at the arrest notice and his own wanted poster. Dai Prefecture Yanmen County Office hereby issues this proclamation. The military officer and murderer of Weizhou—the criminal known as Provost Lu Da—should he appear in this region, immediately report to the authorities. Those who commit acts of harboring shall be deemed equally guilty. If there be those who perform the good deed of reporting [him], they shall immediately be granted a reward of one thousand strings of cash. Right beside Lu Da’s ear—a man reading aloud, an old man resting his white-bearded chin on a staff, scholarly types copying memoranda, women, laborers, vendors—the mingled scent of sunlit idleness steamed forth in all its motley variety.

Lu Da observed this with a look as if it were someone else’s affair. “H-hey! What’re you doin’? What the—” Turning around to face the old man behind him who kept tugging at his sleeve, he narrowed his eyes sharply— “Oh—you’re Cui-lian’s—”

“Shh… Well, this way.”

Old Man Liu forcibly dragged him to a deserted place. And then—heaving a deep sigh—he sank down in relief. “From the moment I saw someone who resembled you with these eyes, it truly was my benefactor—Master Lu Da.” “Well now... What recklessness...” “Oh! Old Jin! This is unexpected—I’d thought you’d gone back to your hometown.” “Actually, during our journey after that incident, we encountered a wealthy man in this region called Master Zhao and were embraced by his kindness, so now my daughter Cui-lian maintains a household here in this land.”

“Hey! Haven’t you been sweet-talked and swindled by some smooth-talking pig again?” “Oh no, sir. That person is a proper gentleman, unlike someone like Zheng. Cui-lian also says morning and evening like a mantra that it’s all thanks to you. Above all else, seeing our current life for yourself would be best. Now, please do come along.” “Wh-where’re you taking me? …What—a concubine’s house? That’s not my thing.”

“Now, don’t say that,” said Old Man Liu as he insistently took him back to his daughter’s house. Hearing this, Jin Cuilian ran out from the inner rooms.

“Oh!... Master Lu Da.”

Tears immediately welled up in Lanhua’s eyes—needless to say, in receiving this fallen benefactor she demonstrated every nuance of her considerate heart. “At any rate,” she said with practical warmth, “please have a bath.” While suggesting ablutions, she directed male and female servants to prepare swift dishes—fresh fish and young chicken with vinegared accompaniments—then arranged cups alongside silver wine jugs, tray-mounted fruits and dim sum sweets alike before positioning his seat at the table’s honored head.

“Now, please have a cup.” “And please make yourself completely at ease.”

“What a dazzling feast. Truly too good for me these days.”

“To think our Benefactor suffered such hardships of wandering—when I reflect, it was entirely for us father and daughter.” “I’d have you stop this ‘Benefactor’ business—being called that at every turn sours the wine’s taste, doesn’t it?” “Yes, yes. I shan’t say it again—but allow me just one more thing. Since that time, we’ve inscribed your name on a red paper tablet and offered incense morning and evening, my daughter and I bowing in reverence. Thus today’s reunion too must surely be the gods’ and buddhas’ doing.” “Cui-lian! You’ve never known joy like this before!”

“I don’t know what to say…” “I just… I can’t stop crying…”

“This won’t do. Your kindness is most appreciated, but I can’t stomach Cui-lian’s sniffling as part of the feast.”

“Well, forgive me.” “You truly did despise tears, didn’t you?” “I’ll shed no more joyful ones—please revel merrily.”

However, as dusk approached, a clamorous commotion arose outside. Ever alert to even the sound of wind, Lu Zhishen peered down from the window to see a man of affluent bearing on horseback leading twenty or thirty youths—each brandishing clubs—scrutinizing the concubine’s residence from both inside and out. “They’re here,” Lu Zhishen growled—whether by instinct or not—as he tried leaping toward the back roof, only for Old Man Jin to desperately seize his waistband. “Master Lu Da, wait!” “The one outside is Master Zhao of the Zhao family—the very patron who’s been sheltering Cuilian!” “Master Zhao had long heard tales of your chivalry from my daughter and greatly admired you—there must be some misunderstanding.” “Let this old man go explain matters.”

In a flustered hurry, Old Jin scrambled down the stairs. Soon after,the matter appeared settled—the youths were dismissed,and only Master Zhao ascended accompanied by the old man.

“Ha ha ha ha. “I must have let my imagination run wild, resulting in such outrageous rudeness. “I am Zhao, who has been looking after Cui-lian—might you be the very Master Lu Da I have long heard of?” “Ah, we both were in a tight spot there.” “Indeed, it is I—Lu Da, the fallen former commander.” “I must apologize for visiting during your absence.” “Not at all.” “Once the matter is understood as such, this too becomes a strange twist of fate.” “Cui-lian, tonight let’s drink merrily with your benefactor!” “Have all the food and drink completely refreshed.”

Whether it was the bearing of a wealthy man or not, Zhao, though in his fifties, appeared to be a man of remarkably magnanimous character. Perhaps he was striving to respond to a person of righteous heart with a righteous heart of his own. When the lamps had dimmed and the revelry had reached its peak, "How about it, Master Lu Da? In a bustling town like this, one cannot let down their guard. Why don't you come to my countryside home and stay at your leisure?" "I am indebted. And this countryside estate of yours—" "It's merely ten li beyond the city outskirts—a tranquil place called Qibao Village."

“I’ve no particular path laid out before me,” “Though it may seem forward of me, I’ll take you up on that offer of shelter.” At this arrangement, Cui-lian and her father rejoiced as if it were their own good fortune. Thus did Lu Zhishen ride alongside Master Zhao the next day into Qibao Village—a place where purple-tinged mountains reflected in crystalline streams. The elder’s mansion stood as an edifice steeped in opulence. For Lu Da they prepared quarters so lavish it cramped his spirit—not even assigning him to lower rooms. Zhao chuckled at his unease, “There’s no call for such stiff formality.” “As the saying goes: ‘All within the four seas are brothers.’”

That may be true, but society does not follow such principles. Thinking he might be overstaying his welcome—around the tenth day, he was considering taking his leave—when that evening at the banquet, Zhao broached a certain proposal. "This may be an odd suggestion, but it may well be a karmic promise from a past life." “Having thought about such matters... might you consider entering the monastic order?” “A monk?! “……This is astonishing! You’re the first to suggest I become a monk, Master Zhao.” "By nature, I don’t have a speck of Buddha-nature in me."

“I cannot insist on this recommendation, but in truth—due to my earlier suspicions of you—I gathered young men from town and had them rush to Cui-lian’s residence. This became the root of rumors, and since then I’ve been catching unsettling whispers here and there among the populace—ones we cannot afford to ignore.” “I’ve been privately reproaching myself, fearing what might happen should misfortune strike.”

“Ah—if I cause you any further trouble, I, Lu Da, would be truly remiss. I shall take my leave immediately.”

“No, no— Before that, how about considering here the path of transforming into a monk as I just mentioned? ……If you are inclined, I can promptly arrange all procedural expenses and even a Five-Flower Monastic Certificate (an officially stamped ordination license).” “Now, when you speak of entering a temple—which temple are you referring to?” “Thirty li from here lies a renowned mountain called Mount Wutai. The main training hall of the entire mountain is called Wenshu Monastery—a magnificently grand structure where the beauty of its seven prayer halls and pagoda gleam against emerald hues. Above seven hundred ordained monks presides the erudite scholar known as Abbot Zhi Zhen, with whom I share a relationship akin to sworn brothers.”

“Hm... This might not be so bad after all.” “Moreover, our family has served as major temple patrons for generations—not only contributing to the monastery’s construction and rituals through donations, but advising the abbot on all affairs. The sole unfulfilled wish is that no monk from our lineage has yet joined the temple’s registry. What say you, Master Lu Da?” “Why not give it a try?”

“Ha ha ha ha. “If you merely ‘try it,’ that won’t do.” “No—I’ll resolve to awaken my spirit.” At this juncture, it might well be the admonition of his deceased father and mother urging Lu Da to obediently return to the ways of ordinary men. “I shall humbly make the request.”

For him, this was undoubtedly a major turning point. He wore a slightly forlorn expression, but the matter was settled. Several days were required for the preparations. When the day arrived for entering the temple and ascending the mountain, men bearing two mountain palanquins set off toward Mount Wutai. All arrangements—the ordination ceremony, presentation of offerings, and subsequent celebrations—had already been coordinated with the mountain’s abbots and monastic community. The palanquin passed through a grand procession of monks before halting before the abbot’s quarters. First came the ceremonial acceptance of tea offerings, followed by purification at a rear well where they washed away worldly impurities. ...Before long, guided by officiants amidst resonant temple bells, they wound through serpentine corridors to reach the main hall—solemnly illuminated before the three Buddhas by ritual lamps.

Noticing that a Zen chair stood vacant, Lu Da composed himself with exaggerated dignity and sat down upon it. At this, Master Zhao became greatly flustered. Rising from his half-seated position, he approached Lu Da, who was leaning against the Zen chair, leaned close to his ear, and whispered: “You are here seeking ordination—you must not sit facing the monastery’s abbot.”

“Ah. I see.” Lu Da stepped back and stood together with Master Zhao like a new student. Facing front, the Abbot and Chief Seat formed two east-west rows with those below them in order—those whose purple-, gold-, and crimson-hued kasayas shimmered dazzlingly as they stood arrayed were likely the duty monks: precentor, attendants, temple supervisor, chief administrator, guest prefect, and scribe. Each had their mouths tightly closed and eyes clear—gazing as if seeing yet not seeing—their manner one of secretly scrutinizing newcomer Lu Da while indistinguishable bewilderment lingered on every face like unvoiced murmurs of “…What’s this?”

In the depths of such thoughts, every single one of them secretly thought thus. "No matter how one looked at him, he had a truly dangerous countenance." "And that's supposed to be a resolve to renounce the world?" "...Though recommended by Patron Zhao, that eerie posture of his radiates unparalleled insolence." "...But if the Abbot has accepted him..."—even such voiceless sentiments could not help but manifest as a peculiar breeze playing across the brows and noses of their assembled forms. But Lu Zhishen—as though blown here by some capricious wind—kept wrinkling his nose and sniffling repeatedly amidst this solemnity and mountain chill, perhaps feeling a sneeze coming on.

What had moved him so deeply? Lu Da stood rigidly upright as if he'd swallowed a rod. Master Zhao suddenly noticed and once again gently tugged the sleeve next to him to offer a reminder.

“You must press your palms together… You must bow with your palms pressed together.” “For your sake—at long last—the Venerable One will perform the tonsure ceremony.” “Oh, is that right?”

Lu Da hurriedly pressed his palms together. Looking up, they saw the Abbot wave his hossu and slowly lean back into his Zen chair. The large incense burner emitted billowing dragon smoke as those present first paid reverent homage to today's offerings from Elder Zhao—silver coins for incense materials, textiles, and other listed items. There, clearing his throat, Lu Da read aloud the petition for his ordination based on awakened resolve. When it ended, the face of the Abbot within the swirl of incense smoke took on the appearance of one who had entered deep meditation without anyone noticing. He formed a mudra with his hands on his knees, sat in lotus position with closed eyes for some time, then—as though something had possessed him—spoke thus.

“Excellent, excellent. This man’s destiny is entwined with a celestial star. His original heart remains strong and upright. His violent conduct arises merely because his impulses have yet to find their proper course. In time, he shall attain enlightenment—an extraordinary rebirth surely awaits him... Hah!” At once, the Dharma drums thundered and the temple bell tolled again. Two novice monks advanced, made him remove the hat he wore, took his hand, and forced him to kneel beneath the abbot’s Dharma seat.

The duty monk, the Precentor, stood holding a razor. The Attendant held a basin; the Chief Administrator took a comb and combed Lu Da’s hair into nine strands, dividing and bundling them. ...The razor grated raspingly as it shaved upward from his temples toward the crown of his head, as though tracing the arc of the moon. “……?” Lu Da felt strange. He felt uneasy, wondering how strangely his own appearance must have changed. But when his head was suddenly shaved chillingly bare and the razor reached his beard, he panicked.

“Ah! Wait! Just leave a bit of this here, would ya?” The assembly of monks burst into laughter—as if to quell it, Abbot Zhi Zhen on the Dharma seat proclaimed a gatha with a thunderous shout: “Not a single blade remains—the six roots are purified. For thee we shave and remove, exempting thee from worldly strife. ...Hah! Shave it all off!” Lu Da could no longer even muster tears. There, the Chief Seat offered the Nine-Flower Ordination Certificate to the Dharma seat on behalf of the elder and entreated that a dharma name be granted to the newly initiated Lu Da.

The Abbot solemnly recited the next gatha and handed the ordination certificate to the scribe, who took up a brush to inscribe the dharma name upon it. The gatha declared: "A single point of spiritual light— Worth a thousand gold pieces. The Buddha’s Dharma is boundless— We bestow the name Zhishen." Thus was the newly initiated monk named Zhishen.—When the scribe handed him the ordination certificate, he had now—in form at least—become one of the ordained. Then the Abbot placed his hand upon that blue-tinged, glistening head and conferred the precepts.

“First, take refuge in the Buddha’s teachings; second, devote yourself to the true Dharma; third, revere and respect your teachers and fellow practitioners. This is called the Three Refuges... The Five Precepts that follow are: killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, intoxication, and false speech. Will you keep them?” “Yes. I will keep them.” When Lu Zhishen answered, those around him laughed again—for in Zen monasteries, it was customary to respond with a single word like “Affirmative” or “Negative,” leaving Zhishen blushing each time. That evening saw a grand feast—a vegetarian banquet—held in the Cloud Hall. Congratulatory gifts and gratuities from Master Zhao were distributed throughout the temple grounds.

Thus, the following day—as he prepared to descend the mountain—Master Zhao called Lu Zhishen alone to the shade of the trees at the Senbutsu grounds and solemnly imparted his final words.

“It must be difficult adjusting to this unfamiliar life at first, but please devote yourself wholeheartedly to your training.” “I’ve also earnestly requested that the Abbot look after you.”

“I’ve caused you tremendous trouble. But please rest assured. With this head of mine now, I’ve no choice but to be reborn and behave myself.” With that, he tapped his bluish head as if to demonstrate. After seeing off Master Zhao’s mountain palanquin and returning to his cell in the monastic quarters, he—already wearing an expression that had forgotten the elder’s words—flopped onto his back. Then, two or three monks who had been practicing on their meditation beds came peeking in.

“Hey, novice,” called the monks. “Why aren’t you practicing zazen?” Lu Zhishen heaved himself up, propping his cheeks with both hands as he regarded them with suspicion. “Neither the Three Refuges nor Five Precepts say anything about not lying down!” The exasperated monks complained to the Chief Seat, who seemed equally powerless. “That outsider,” he said, “according to the Abbot, bears the destiny of one of Heaven’s stars. For now, we’ll just have to let him be.”

Zhishen's daily existence resembled that of a wild beast that had found its proper domain. Taking full advantage of having no one to restrain him, he would snore like thunder when asleep, and when awake, relieve himself behind the Buddha Hall, beneath the Pure Grove—anywhere and everywhere without compunction.

And so four or five months swiftly passed from summer to autumn at Mount Wutai, until the season deepened into late autumn when crimson leaves burned ablaze.

Somehow feeling homesick, Lu Zhishen tied his navy waistband over his black-dyed robe, put on new monk shoes, and sauntered down the mountain path from Manjushri Hall.

"Hmm... What's this? This is unbearable! A familiar aroma I'd long forgotten comes drifting on the wind from somewhere..." That scent wasn't autumn grasses or flowers—it was the reek of wine. Within a few steps, a man appeared below shouldering wine casks up the path. Lu Zhishen found himself drawn forward as though pulled by a long-lost lover. "Hey, you there—hold up!"

He placed his hand on the man’s carrying pole and stopped him. The floral tattoo blazed across his crimson skin,

Monk Lu’s Great Drunkenness Rocks the Entire Mountain

The alcohol barrels on the carrying pole swayed heavily at both ends of the man’s shoulders. Needless to say, the small amount of wine that had spilled through the lid’s gap had soaked into the man’s knees and the earth, releasing a rich, mellow fragrance.

“Ah! Wh-what a waste!” Keeping one hand on the pole he had been holding, Lu Zhishen sniffed at the spilled wine with his nose in a tracking motion, which made the wine vendor grow even more startled and suspicious. “Wh-why could this be, Venerable monk?” “For what business did Your Reverence stop someone like me?” “That’s alcohol in the barrels, isn’t it?” “This is some impressive liquor.” “Where are you taking that?” “There’s repair work being done on the Niō Gate up the mountain, so I’m taking this to sell to the craftsmen—painters, tilers, Buddhist image sculptors, and such—who are staying there to work.”

“Hmm...” Zhishen twitched his nose incessantly. “Damn it. You’ve got this all figured out, haven’t you?”

At that moment, he nearly let slip another remark—"Sell some to me too"—the words had risen to the edge of his throat, but he swallowed them back with an audible gulp. “Being a monk’s truly inconvenient. But well... I’m ordained now—might as well give up and consider myself dead. ...Hey, liquor vendor!”

“Yes?” “Carry them without spilling any. Even if you made Ishikoro Slope drink it, the path wouldn’t turn a pretty color and rejoice.” “Thank you ever so much for your kindness.” “Don’t mock me! I’m the one who wants to cry here. I’ve run into a damned fellow here. Get lost already!” Closing his eyes, he strode off in large strides. And before long, Just as one thought the radiant scenery of the foothills had unfolded, from below came the sound of a most serene humming tune.

This area was the ancient battlefield where Emperor Gaozu of Han defeated Chu’s great army. It was also near Wu River’s night battle site where Xiang Yu and Consort Yu embraced each other for their final moments amidst tragic tears. Therefore even now shepherd boys and villagers nearby sing folk songs about these events.

The plants and trees of Jiuli Mountain know—they say it's a battlefield's mark. I've picked up rusty swords and spears turned to earth, The waters of Wu River churn beneath the wind, unveiling that vision— Yu Ji and Xiang Yu's final embrace, bodies twisting in parting's torment

“Oh, you’ve brought something else along, have you?” “Well, well.” “Here comes that liquor vendor again.” “Looks like today’s a truly cursed day for me.”

Perhaps intimidated by the shady-looking hulking monk from before, the alcohol vendor abruptly cut off his humming. He tried to slip past quietly. But this proved an unlucky mountain slope indeed. When he sloshed and spilled some wine from his barrel, it became unbearable. Lu Zhishen staggered from the dizzying aroma. "Whoa, whoa, WHOA!... Hey liquor vendor! You got no damn sense of caution!" "Why're you spillin' it?" "P-p-please show mercy!" "D-did I... sully your holy robes?"

“Nah, that ain’t it. “I want to be defiled. “Sell me that barrel’s wine!” “I couldn’t possibly. “Selling drink to Your Reverence breaks the main temple’s laws—do that and I’ll be driven from these lands.” “Don’t care. “Can’t bear this no more!” “You mightn’t care, but I’ve wife and kids here. “Can’t be selling it.” “Enough! Damned nuisance!” “Agh!”

He had meant to strike lightly, but he dislocated the alcohol vendor's shoulder from the carrying pole, sending him tumbling.

One load had toppled over; the other remained intact.—Zhishen frantically rescued what he could from the fallen barrel first, then grabbed the other one as well. Hoisting both barrels—the lighter and heavier ones—in his hands, he dashed into the distant lookout pavilion. “Here, I’ll pay you proper!” No sooner had he thrown something as payment toward the alcohol vendor—who was rubbing his sore waist—than he was already prying off the barrel lids. And with the posture of a parched beast submerging its snout in a stream—gulp... gulp... gulp...

With a bob, he occasionally raised his head to lick his lips, then sharply shook his face sideways to fling droplets from his chin. “Ugh... urgh.” “Unbearable.” The heavier barrel was finished off first. Even for him, it seemed to prove somewhat taxing.

“Heh heh.” “Still some left at the bottom.” “Right then.” When he flung off his ink-black monastic robe and stripped to the waist, there upon Zhishen’s seven-foot frame—his back of rippling muscles now flushed crimson with alcohol’s heat—blazed the Hundred Flowers and Birds tattoo said to have taken a Wei River master a hundred days to carve, as though spring’s full splendor had been gathered there to burn. “...Ugh.” “Ah, what a view—a true masterpiece!” “The worms in my belly are dancing a jig... Wait, wait—I’m not finished yet!”

He grabbed both handles of the lighter barrel. The hairy dantian—his lower abdomen—strained and arched back as he began drinking from the barrel like a man swallowing a waterfall. Of course, part of it—like a tiny stream trickling down rock—soaked his chest hair and monastic robe before being absorbed by the ground.

“Hmm, this should bring satisfaction. Yes, satisfaction—” Zhishen seemed suddenly enveloped in chaotic delight. All things in heaven and earth appeared to exist solely for his sake. Abruptly, he fixed his gaze on the liquor barrel rolling at his feet. “Well now... You’re a dull fellow when emptied out, aren’t you?” “Consider Monk Zhishen’s deliverance as this world’s meager blessing!” “Hah!”

And he kicked both of them down the mountainside. One barrel soared skyward before plunging into the forest; the other crashed straight into a herd of cattle grazing below. The startled cattle scattered wildly, their sluggish bellows echoing long after from behind. Zhishen clapped his hands and roared with laughter, staggering mud-covered back toward Mount Wutai. “Y-you slimy bastards! W-w-why ain’t you lettin’ this Lu Zhishen through?”

“What a disgrace of a Buddhist disciple you are!” “Hey Zhishen! This is the temple gate! The temple gate itself!”

“Well now... So this’d be the grand gate of Manjushri Temple on Mount Wutai.” “No entry with meat or alcohol past these gates!” And there indeed stood a massive prohibition sign. “Any monk who breaks precepts by drinking gets forty strikes with green bamboo and expulsion from temple grounds—that’s the rule!” “Now ain’t this a laugh. Perfect—that’ll do me for a massage! C’mon gatekeepers! Give it your best shot!”

At that moment came those who had heard the commotion—from monastic officials like the supervisor of monks, financial overseers, treasurers, and bath masters to all manner of construction site workers—their faces blackened as they came to see what was happening. They immediately united with the gatekeeping monks. “Outrageous! This defies all words!” “We’ll not permit even one step inside by this precept-breaking, depraved heretic—this defiled creature! Douse him with water—anything!”

With that, they rejected Zhishen, shoved back his massive frame, and sent him tumbling down the stone steps before the temple gate.

This was unbearable. “You’ve done it now...” Zhishen growled, crawling on all fours as he glared upward. Step by step, like an elephant, he slowly climbed up. Out of fear, both the monastic officials and the workers staggered back in disarray. Zhishen found it increasingly amusing. It was as though a great crowd had gathered there precisely to serve as playmates for his game.

“There we go! I’ll pluck every last one of you and toss you aside!” The moment he leapt up, humans went flying from his arms and legs like dust. Chasing after the fleeing crowd with a roar, he triggered earthquake-like booms and screams across temple halls and monastic buildings—until finally, upon entering a room in the storehouse, he collapsed in the shape of a 大 character, fast asleep. His snoring seemed as if it might shake the valleys. Far from being appalled by this, the ensuing cleanup and uproar only caused another commotion. The monastic group, placing the supervisor of monks and administrators at their forefront, pressed toward Abbot Zhi Zhen’s seat.

“Such an incident has never occurred since the founding of our Manjushri Temple on Mount Wutai. To keep a demon beast in sacred precincts—this is something we do not recall in Shakyamuni Buddha’s precepts. We humbly believe immediate expulsion would be most appropriate.”

“Now now,” said Abbot Zhi Zhen in a conciliatory tone meant solely to placate them. “Do not say such things—could you not view this matter with compassionate eyes just this once? Considering Patron Zhao’s position as our great benefactor—by tomorrow I shall personally deliver stern admonitions to Zhishen and ensure he mends his ways henceforth.” Though their clamorous discontent remained formidable at this crane-like utterance from their elder monk... They could only withdraw while muttering complaints.

The next morning—Zhishen sat up with a start, went out to the bamboo grove behind the storehouse hall, and was relieving himself there contentedly. Just then came the Abbot’s summons, so he hurriedly followed behind and timidly crouched at the foot of the seat.

“Now, Zhishen. You remain a most troublesome disciple.” The abbot’s voice carried monastic gravity. “This humble one discerns you suffer from an affliction.” “Nay,” Zhishen protested, thumping his chest. “As you see, this body surpasses others in sturdiness.” “What delusion speaks through you? I name your malady—forgetfulness! You’ve discarded the Five Precepts granted at ordination and forsaken the Three Refuges.” “Ah.” Understanding dawned on the monk’s broad face. “So that’s the affliction you mean.” “Precisely.” The abbot’s staff struck stone. “Explain last night’s drunken rampage. To violate Mount Wutai’s sacred precepts with such disgrace...”

“I won’t do it again.” “Are you certain? Will you not forget henceforth?” “I shall be prudent. Yes. I shall most certainly be prudent.”

Dejectedly, Zhishen withdrew to his meditation seat. He changed into a man of few words—as if his face were locked shut—declaring he would rarely grow angry anymore, even at whispers brushing past ears or mocking laughter.

As that year drew to a close, around early March of the following year when the long-awaited mountain spring had finally begun to arrive, Zhishen found himself gazing vacantly at the foothills' sky when suddenly—clang, clang—the sound of a blacksmith's hammer came carried on the wind. Then—as if struck by a thought—he stuffed whatever silver he had into his robe, abruptly leapt from the monks' quarters, altered his route that day to pass through the great torii gate bearing the plaque "Five Great Blessed Lands," and began briskly descending the eastern pilgrimage slope.

“Well now, this is quite lively indeed!” He had no idea such a settlement existed here until today. Fool! Why hadn’t he ever considered there must be a temple town at Mount Wutai’s foot? But ah well—even belatedly, he’d pay his respects...

He suddenly began walking with buoyant steps. His eyes darted about restlessly. There were butcher shops and wine shops—the coquettish voices of women, infants’ wails, then the nostalgic music of street performers; secondhand clothing stores, greengrocers, traveler inns, even the old woman at the udon shop—it all reminded him of the Weishui outskirts from days past. None of it displeased him.

"Ah, the human world really is wonderful after all."

Enveloped in the tepid warmth of the earthy town for the first time in ages, he began to absentmindedly pass through—

"Oh," he thought. This was the place.

And then, he lumbered into the dirt floor of a blacksmith’s workshop. The clang, clang that had echoed all the way up to the mountain was undoubtedly the hammering here and the clang of the iron anvil. The three blacksmiths who had stopped working turned their uniformly blackened faces—soot-covered from their nostrils to the corners of their eyes—and stared at Zhishen’s figure. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say they looked up. “Hey there, Master. Good day. … So tell me—do you have any top-quality steel?” “Hmm, does the venerable monk have business with steel?”

“Don’t mock me. There’s no law that says monks and steel must be strangers. I want you to forge me a staff. Make it just the right size.” “I see. But Venerable Monk, custom work will cost you dearly. How about a ready-made one?” “But I’ve never seen a ready-made item that fits my hand, so I never kept one. How about whipping one up quickly? Make it weigh about a hundred jin.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! A hundred-jin staff isn’t something meant for human hands! Even Lord Guan Yu’s Guandao from the Three Kingdoms era was eighty-one jin!” “Then, shall we settle for eighty-one jin—equal to Lord Guan Yu?”

“Heh heh heh. There’s no need to strain yourself so, Venerable Monk. After all, you’re neither a loyal retainer of Liu Bei Xuande from the Three Kingdoms nor his kinsman. Let’s not make this awkward—how about we use our finest water-polished steel for a sixty-two-jin staff instead?”

“Hmm, guess I’ll settle for that.” “We’ve settled it.” “Hey, come along with me, masters!”

“Huh.” “Where might you be going?” “To celebrate the forge fire, I’ll treat you to a drink.” “Take me to someplace you frequent.” “Well, please go on your own.” “Instead of that, Venerable Monk.” “The staff will cost five taels.” “If you could just provide a deposit...”

“Tch.” “Don’t go saying such stingy things.” Tossing them some small silver coins, Zhishen emerged from beneath the blacksmith’s eaves along with the smoke. Then he scanned the street with wide, restless eyes.

He peered into the storefronts of two or three taverns. Everywhere without exception, he was turned away. Finally reaching the outskirts of town, he suddenly noticed another house with tattered eaves from which hung a flag bearing the character for “sake.” When he approached, there was graffiti etched with nails on a mud wall mixed with cow dung—something like “Li Bai in a Drunken Stupor,” likely someone’s prank. “Well… that’s an amusing painting. Well, I’d like to get that drunk myself just once,” Zhishen muttered under his breath as he stepped inside.

“Hey proprietor! I’m no Mount Wutai monk! No need to fret—just give me some wine!” “Right away! Where might you be coming from?” “A wanderer passing through on pilgrimage—not some begging monk! Look at this silver! Hand me that big bowl there—quick!” He gulped greedily, swapping bowls over a dozen times in quick succession. Then he stood on his own, lumbered to the dim kitchen counter, and snatched a piece of roasted meat resembling a rabbit’s thigh with his right hand before biting into it sideways.

“Ah, Mr. Unsui! That won’t do—this isn’t suitable for a monk.”

“Proprietor! Why are you stopping me?”

“It is dog meat, sir.” “Come now—” “What’s this about dog meat?!” “No—it’s fine.” “There’s no reason to scorn it just because it’s dog.” “My belly is none other than Maitreya—whether monkey or deer, I make no distinction.” “How could I discriminate? Perfect!” “Tastes just fine, old man!” Coated with garlic miso, he promptly discarded the bones at his feet and grabbed another piece. “It’s no good having just side dishes.” “Hey—bring those whole jars over here.” “That’s yellow rice wine, right?” “Hmm—a rare treasure indeed!”

―And soon.

As dusk approached, Zhishen drifted back toward Mount Wutai, swaying unsteadily as though descending from heavenly clouds only to return to them. When he saw a man and woman he nearly collided with along the way, he scattered roaring laughter at their panicked fleeing figures.

“Bwahahaha! “Make way, make way for Lord Zhishen! “Don’t you know the proverb that even His Majesty the Emperor yields the road to a drunkard? “Step back, step back!”

The next morning arrived. That said, in the west of Mount Wutai's Five Peaks, the pale shadow of the waning moon could still be seen, and on the ground, the rustling pine forest was just beginning to brighten the surroundings.

“Brr, it’s cold... Huh? Wait a minute.” “Why was I sleeping in a place like this?” Zhishen sat bolt upright, doubting his own senses. No wonder he felt cold—he seemed to have slept on stone pavement. What’s more, he’d been hugging a giant guardian deity statue twice his size in his sleep. This had to be one of the Nio statues from the mountain gate. Looking up abruptly, he saw the familiar Nio gate lying in ruins like typhoon-wrecked debris, its counterpart statue missing from its usual post. As dawn gradually brightened the area, Zhishen realized with growing dismay that he was surrounded by severed hands and heads of guardian deities along with shattered roof tiles and fragments of jeweled fences.

Then one of the monk guards came over and shouted. “Hey, Zhishen! Have you finally woken up? The abbot and the rest are waiting. Get yourself to the corridor of the Great Lecture Hall immediately!” He still didn’t seem clear-headed. He staggered off.

When he looked, Abbot Zhi Zhen and his entire retinue of duty monks were lined up in the corridor of the Great Lecture Hall with uncharacteristic solemnity. As soon as they saw him, the Chief Administrator was the first to rise from his seat, “Hey, Zhishen. Listen well. “Last night, you not only once again descended to the foothills, violated the precept against alcohol, and returned to the mountain in a drunken stupor—but at the mountain gate wielded your usual reckless violence, injuring over a dozen monk guards and laymen. Furthermore, you dragged down and shattered our Manjusri Hall’s treasured guardian deity statues to pieces, urinated upon them while shouting in delight, and after such unspeakable outrages slept there until dawn.” “—All of this is utterly inexcusable.” “Therefore, in the name of the entire mountain community and with the abbot’s approval, we hereby order your immediate expulsion from our sacred grounds.”

he declared with contained fury. Zhishen had been listening as if it were someone else’s affair until about halfway through, but finally realized he was the person being discussed.

“Huh? Did I do such a thing? This Zhishen?” Then the duty monks—the Chief Administrator, Secretary, Abbot, Supervisor, and others—all raised their voices in unison and scolded.

“Shamelessly—how dare you put on such an innocent face! Look toward the monks’ quarters—those injured by you lie moaning in rows, their limbs shattered!” “Not only that—on your way from the temple town up to the mountaintop, you smashed the viewing pavilion, and whenever you spotted girls nearby, you chased them around like a wolf after chickens!” “To enumerate every single offense would prove endless. Despite having committed such shameless depravity, how dare you feign innocence now?”

Zhishen could find no words to reply. He withdrew quietly from the scene, only to be summoned again by Abbot Zhi Zhen. "This leaves us no alternative," "Should we allow you to remain here any longer, it would bring still greater distress upon your benefactor Elder Zhao." "Bear this in mind and depart obediently."

Before him lay an indigo set of leg wrappings and arm guards, a single-layer monk’s robe, one pair of shoes, and an alms offering of ten taels of silver. Zhishen let a single tear fall. And then, like a cat. “I truly... I don’t know how to apologize enough.” “Even I am at a loss with myself now. Not that I feel like hanging my neck, but really—how is this Lu Zhishen supposed to live on?”

“Right, Venerable Abbot?”

Abbot Zhi Zhen closed his eyes for a long time, perhaps composing a verse in his heart, and murmured a Buddhist hymn. "...When you encounter forests, rise; encountering mountains, prosper; encountering waters, thrive; encountering rivers, shall you halt." "...The transformations of four encounters are the karma of the destined stars you bear." "Lu Zhishen—first live as you live, go as you go."

“Yes. Then I shall do as you say.” “For now, it would be troublesome if you had nowhere to settle. My junior disciple has recently been at Daxiangguo Temple in Dongjing, Kaifeng, where he is revered by many alongside Zen Master Zhiqing. Take this letter of introduction with you, go to Daxiangguo Temple, and seek refuge with Zen Master Zhiqing.” “I am deeply grateful for everything. Well then... though it pains me to part ways with you, Venerable Abbot.”

When he bowed his head solemnly, all the attending monks laughed. They must have been heaving sighs of relief at his departure, thinking, "What parting regrets could there possibly be?"

Now then.—That day.

Zhishen dejectedly descended to the foothill town. And then, he lodged at the traveler’s inn next to the blacksmith’s shop. He waited for the Buddhist staff he had previously ordered from the blacksmith’s shop to be completed. And before long, about half a month later, the finished product was ready. The sixty-two-jin water-polished Buddhist staff was of the finest quality. "Alright! With this single staff, every mountain, river, blade of grass, and tree under heaven shall become my followers." He immediately brushed off the gloom of the past few days from his brow, assumed an air of great satisfaction, and promptly set out for Dongjing in Kaifeng.

Leaving Peach Blossom Village where brides have hair on their navels,

The Matter of Meeting the Nine-Tattooed Dragon at Withered Forest's Waguan Temple

The wandering oddity Lu Zhishen had lain among mountains and rested in fields many times over, but whether because wild beasts and birds of prey cowered before him, wherever his sleeping form and thunderous snores lay, nature itself transformed into a paradise for the night, and no harm ever arose. To be sure, Zhishen carried neither provisions enough for a single battle nor any gold or silver to speak of—thus even had they attacked him, there would have been nothing to gain. That evening too, with his stomach growling hollow, he finally reached a village in the mountains.

“Whoa, this area’s got so many peach trees.” “The peach blossoms are now in full bloom.” “That’s right—tonight I’ll sleep in that peach grove and make a pun about dreaming of Wu Ling’s Peach Blossom Spring.”

--Then appeared an old man resembling a crane. From beside the peach grove he was about to enter emerged the old man.

“Excuse me, Venerable monk. Tonight our household has some pressing matters to attend to, and we wouldn’t want you to suffer an unforeseen injury—would you kindly rest elsewhere?”

“Who are you?” “I am master of the Liu family, an old-established household in this Peach Blossom Village.” “What’s the matter? Even for an old man, your face looks like clay—on the verge of tears.” When questioned, Old Man Liu began weeping bitterly in genuine sorrow. Upon hearing his faltering confession—“Well...”—it turned out tonight was his beloved daughter’s wedding evening. “What? Your only daughter’s wedding?”

Things were growing increasingly strange. With curiosity spurring him on，he pressed further into unraveling every detail.

When the old man began to speak, it turned out that a band of bandits—whom even the Qingzhou county garrison in this region had their hands full dealing with—now resided deep within Peach Blossom Mountain. The so-called son-in-law of his beloved daughter was a man named Zhou Tong, who claimed to be the subordinate of that bandit leader—and it was never the case that we had offered her in marriage from our side. “When the peach blossoms bloom, I’ll come to be the son-in-law." “I’ll send a messenger down from the mountain beforehand, but on the wedding night—polish that bride up proper, feast spread out like there’s no tomorrow, everything done up fancy.”

Such were the advance notices from Zhou Tong that they had already received. And they trembled at the thought that if they opposed it, Peach Blossom Village would either be burned to ashes overnight or face complete slaughter. “Bwahaha! To think such old-school types still exist nowadays.” “Very well.” “So those Peach Blossom Mountain bandits will come forcing themselves as grooms at midnight, eh?” “Old Liu, don’t fret.” “Even if you say so...” “Truth be told, I am one called Lu who formerly served as Provost, military police, in Weishui.” “I’ve grown accustomed to such judgments.” “Now guide me to the young lady’s chamber.”

“My daughter has been weeping inconsolably since yesterday and is in no state to receive visitors.” “It’s fine if she doesn’t meet me. Hide the daughter away somewhere quickly. I’ll take the bride’s place—I’ll be lying behind the bed curtains—so when Zhou Tong arrives, put on a grand feast show, get him thoroughly drunk, then bring him here. …Truth be told, waiting alone in the bridal chamber until then would be unbearably tedious. And don’t forget wine for the bride’s chamber!”

Old Man Liu was more fearful than hesitant. However, many clan members arrived and gradually came to listen to Zhishen’s persuasion; like a blind turtle clinging to driftwood, they finally clung to his plan.

Thereupon, Zhishen hid himself in the bridal chamber under cover of night, drew the curtains there, and lay down on the bed. Of course, he too had been served a feast and wine, so he had eaten his fill and fallen asleep... But his eyes would occasionally open. What time was it now? From the front came the sounds of gongs and drums—perhaps the groom’s procession had arrived. And now the lively strains of "groom-welcoming folk songs" could be heard. "Ah... The feast must be starting soon."

He had been aware up to that point but seemed to have fallen soundly asleep again. The night deepened with oppressive stillness; though a demonic shadow—guided by crimson candlelight—had likely swayed its way to the chamber’s threshold, he remained utterly unaware. A figure resembling Old Man Liu stood there, voice hushed: “...Then, Honored Groom. I shall take my leave here.”

Eventually, he retreated with clattering footsteps. After confirming the receding footsteps, the bandit Zhou Tong slipped swiftly into the room. "Huh? Pitch black in here... Aha! So ya feelin' shy, eh?" Muttering to himself, Zhou Tong groped his way toward the bride's bed. Then again—huh? As if he'd wondered aloud. "Damn, stinks like booze in here. "Mmm, right... "Oh! Must be them kinsfolk night-drinkin' customs in the bridal chamber. That explains it... There now, daughter—no, bride. "No need t'be so bashful."

In truth, it was Zhou Tong who felt slightly bashful. Uncharacteristically cautious, he stealthily slipped inside the curtain and reached his hand under the bridal garments. Then, something strange grated against his hand with a gritty sensation. It seemed to be a navel, but there was hair growing.

“Ah! You fed me a damn decoy!” With a thud as he fell from the bed, Zhishen finally awoke. Springing up while still wearing the bridal garments, “Wait, son-in-law! How heartless to flee!” he cried, chasing after him into the rear peach grove. Zhou Tong had barely untied his horse from the willow tree when he snapped off a branch as a whip and fled at full speed. Zhishen too leaped onto one of the underlings’ horses and gave chase—this was all well enough, but the commotion that followed at the Liu household defied description.

The remaining underlings, realizing something was amiss, bound Old Man Liu and dragged him back to the bandit gate of Peach Blossom Mountain by the following morning. However, lo and behold—there, the bandit leader and Lu Zhishen were laughing together while exchanging drinks. And furthermore, last night’s forced groom—namely, Zhou Tong, the leader’s subordinate—sat utterly dejected beside them, hanging his head in defeat.

“Well now, Old Man Liu—poor thing—did they catch you? Hey, Flower Groom! Hurry up and untie his bonds!” Lu Zhishen guffawed and recounted the details. The night before, after chasing his quarry all the way to this gate... The leader who had emerged to aid his subordinate turned out to be none other than that ointment peddler from Weishui Street—the Tiger-Slaying General Li Zhong. “What fools you are—squatting here as third-rate bandits.” “You don’t even realize how much better off you’d be sticking to your quack remedies than dabbling in this pathetic brigandry!”

He was still voicing his opinions. But perhaps this way of life—being petty bandits—came naturally to the Tiger-Slaying General Li Zhong and his subordinate who called himself Zhou Tong. Outwardly, they submitted meekly. “Well...I swear I’ll never lay a hand on Liu’s daughter again.”

He had sworn as much, but it hardly seemed sincere.

When Zhishen showed a hint of his white teeth, Li Zhong, emboldened, spoke. “The reason I sold my land in Weishui and took to the road, Zhishen, was actually your fault—because you beat Zheng, the boss of the Five Circuits of Guanxi, to death! The officials’ reach even extended to us, and they started throwing us all into jail one after another! Because of that, not only did I have to abandon Weishui, but Shi Jin also vanished without a trace!” “I see. Now that you mention it, I suppose I bear some responsibility as well. But enough with your old-fashioned amateurish threats, hunting for young maidens, and petty misdeeds—quit it already! If you’re going to do this, you should aim for manly ambitions! Go chase some grand dreams!”

That said, Zhishen likely deemed it unnecessary to linger any longer. After making the two men swear anew not to harm the Liu household or Peach Blossom Village, and upon seeing them snap arrows to seal their villainous oath, he sent Old Man Liu back to his village and then drifted away from there like a wisp of wind.

And so, as he resumed his journey toward the Eastern Capital, unknowingly piling travel upon travel, he came upon the desolate temple known as Waguan Temple—a place of jagged peaks and strange cliffs—to take shelter from a night’s rain and dew. There, he encountered beings who had no place in this world.

"Hah..." In its founding era - with imperial envoys from the Son of Heaven, the mountain temple's full congregation of monks, incense smoke swirling through golden brocade - this must have been a truly magnificent sight indeed. To think it could decay to such ruin."

As Zhishen took his first step into the grounds of Waguan Temple, even he—for all his boldness—was left speechless by the desolate scene before him.

The bell towers and halls were left to crumble at will, and the main hall's interior seemed a nest for sparrows. Peering inside, he found the Goddess of Mercy statue entangled in creeping vines, while the roof gaped with a large hole. The footprints around—whether from foxes or raccoon dogs—along with the bird and beast droppings, all bore marks of another world. “Hey there! Ain’t there any humans around? Ain’t there anyone livin’ here?” Then from the depths appeared an old monk—nothing but skin and bones—who lankily emerged, “Ah... A traveling monk? We ain’t got provisions here to lodge folks, I tell you. Hurry along now, hurry along!”

“What? No provisions?” “What’s that smoke coming from the kitchen?” “That food of yours must be alms you got from the village.” “I’m starving too.” “I’d like to share in the alms meal.”

“Preposterous!” “Even we can barely keep body and soul together.” “Keep hollerin’ like that and they’ll skin you alive, I tell ya!” “Now scram! Get out!”

“You really trying to drive me out?” “Or you saying that ’cause you’re scared of someone?” “Here’s a wicked monk named Cui Daocheng and a vile acolyte called Qiu Xiaoyi acting like they own the place… They stole this temple from us, and we’re barely scraping by on millet gruel.”

“Hmmph. Cui and Qiu.” “You’re scared of such scum?” “Anyway, tell me more of the story.” “In return, I’ll help myself to a bowl of millet gruel over there.” When he circled around to the kitchen, he found skeleton-like emaciated monks huddled around a dim red fire—like some crematory furnace—greedily slurping gruel there as well.

When Zhishen reached for the pot, they cowered into the corner. After Zhishen had slurped two or three bowls, they stared at him resentfully while tears trickled down their faces. Even Zhishen couldn't stomach this. Though hungry, he resentfully threw down the chipped bowl halfway through.

Just then, from outside came the sudden sound of a rustic tune sung in an unexpectedly refined voice. When he looked, a young man dressed as an acolyte passed by, carrying a single load on a shoulder pole. Inside the bamboo basket lay pink-tinged beef arranged on lotus leaves, along with wine and vegetables. Zhishen's eyes gleamed. "That's him," he said. "The bastard who's made this temple his nest and starves you lot?" "Yes—that's Qiu Xiaoyi," replied the old monk, "the one they call Flying Yaksha." "So there's another viper—this Cui Daocheng pretender?" Zhishen cracked his knuckles. "That beef I just saw? Consider it my offering to Buddha's belly!"

“Stop this! I-If you do such a thing, your precious life will be lost in an instant! Not only that—who knows what horrors might befall us as well!”

“Bwahahaha! What’s all this shivering and shaking?” “Just watch me!” “You lot’ll get your share too—tonight I’ll bestow a piece of meat each as alms!” Like a leopard, Zhishen leaped out. In his hand, the newly forged monk’s staff gleamed with the fresh scent of steel.

Unaware of this, the acolyte Qiu Xiaoyi arrived at what was once the abbot’s garden, set down his load, and started chatting and laughing with two figures who had been waiting there. There, under a large locust tree where a table had been laid out, Abbot Cui sat holding a young woman in his arms.

Sandwiching the woman between them, did they mean to start carousing right away? They began laying out ceramic vessels and cups across the table. Just then, Lu Zhishen came lumbering toward them.

“Hah!” “You’re just some wandering monk, aren’t you?” “Who gave you permission to come here?”

“Am I not allowed to come here?” “Ah—wait!”

“You there,” “You must be either a wife or daughter abducted from your village.” “It’s dangerous. Get back!” “What? Dangerous?” There, evil confronted evil. Their gazes locked with deadly speed.

The instant Cui appeared to rise, a blade flowing like water from his hand passed horizontally three inches from Zhishen’s chest. He didn’t need to dodge. Zhishen's monk staff whirled with a single powerful motion toward Qiu Xiaoyi nearby. Qiu retreated and, with equal skill, drew the blade at his waist. Their fighting spirit, their piercing gazes—neither appeared inferior to Zhishen. But Zhishen was fearless. Moreover, he had never once been caught off guard before. "Grooowl"—his entire body roared, a sensation he hadn’t felt in ages. ——He assumed a stance that seemed to say, “Bring it on!”

Inch by inch, sandwiching him between them, the twin blade tips pressed closer through narrowing space. As if eyes grew from their steel points, they missed not even a hair's breadth of Zhishen's movement. "...Hm?" A light sweat began beading on Zhishen's brow. "Is my empty stomach weakening me?" No—that wasn't it. This must be what they called sword aura—some spiritual energy casting a binding spell over him. Zhishen finally started holding back. "Buddha have mercy! These bastards mean business." "Tougher than any I've faced before!"

With momentum fit to shatter battle formations, Zhishen swung his staff once; Qiu Xiaoyi’s shadow leaped into the air brandishing a crescent blade, while Cui Daocheng dove low to sweep aside his sword with a swift ground-clearing strike. One high, one low—they clashed with furious cries through dozens of exchanges, yet neither side shed a single drop of blood; merely sketched a pitch-black whirlwind before instantly returning to their original three-way standoff, glaring at one another. Eventually, it was Lu Zhishen who grew weary. True enough—he was hungry—but more than that: these were foes unlike any he had ever faced. He found himself reeling under their relentless pressure. Before long, even he seemed to have reached his limits. He abruptly turned tail and fled. Precisely because his hulking frame was so massive, the sight of him fleeing became all the more comical.

Like an unstoppable human fireball, he leaped out through the mountain gate, ran down the path, crossed the stone bridge, let out a relieved sigh and turned around—only to find his two pursuers Cui and Qiu perched on the stone bridge’s railing as if claiming it as their checkpoint.

“Come on, monk. Once you catch your breath, come at me again.” They rested with calm expressions as though no words were needed.

Zhishen observed this from behind cover,

"Well, the world sure is vast," Lu Zhishen mused. "Since monsters like those exist out there, even I oughta do some reflecting." "Damn shame—best take this loss for now." "Goin' back'd mean dyin' like a dog." "...Wait now—" "Oh hell!" When he checked himself over, his essential head pouch was missing. He panicked thinking he'd dropped it—but then remembered spilling millet porridge earlier in the monastery kitchen while blowing on it to cool down; he'd taken off the pouch then left it behind.

"This is bad." "That pouch had inside it a letter from Abbot Zhi Zhen addressed to Abbot Zhi Qing of Da Xiangguo Temple." "If I go back for it now, they'll nab me at the stone bridge." "But heading to Tokyo without it'd be worthless."

He began wandering about searching for a path that would let him return without crossing the stone bridge. Then he found a trail leading down into the valley. Descending through that area and climbing up the far side brought him out north of Waguansi Temple.

The surroundings were a red pine forest. As he walked on and on, there seemed to be nothing but red pines. However, he soon abruptly emerged into what resembled a forest of death. This was likely the ancient burned ruins of a temple complex. A withered grove stretched as far as the eye could see, not a single speck of green remaining. And now, at the sound of his footsteps, a white-clad figure suddenly rose from the shadow of a nearby rock and turned toward him. Just when it seemed the figure might approach Zhishen in a friendly manner, the white-clad figure looked at him and—

“Tch. A damn monk?” He clicked his tongue with a tsk that sounded like spitting, then vanished through the withered trees without a backward glance. Zhishen disliked the lip noise that resembled him spitting "...beh". With a single bound, he closed in, holding his staff horizontally at the ready.

“Hey! Wait.” “Why’d you mock me just now?” “Wasn’t mocking—just called you a damn monk.” “There’s nobody else here.” “You were talking about me.” “Think what you want.” “Probably right.” “Haven’t seen real monks around these days anyway.” His speech carried crisp clarity, his frame lean—a man of clean bearing. The white robes marked pilgrim’s garb. Perhaps he ran with Qiu Xiaoyi’s crew.

The sun was sinking. The man, perhaps hurrying toward the abandoned temple in the distance, snorted dismissively and started walking again. Perhaps thinking to exploit that opening, Zhishen instinctively— “Hah!” He opened his cinnabar-red mouth. Under the swung-down staff, the white-clad figure convinced himself he saw crimson. However, the man had swiftly shifted sideways. He quietly placed a hand on the ceremonial blade at his waist. “Monk, don’t misjudge me. I’m no death god. Taking my life would be pointless.”

“Wh-what’s with that impertinence?” The opponent didn’t wait for another staff strike. The blade cleared its sheath with unseen swiftness. Had that swung staff not intercepted diagonally at Lu Zhishen’s brow, he might have been cleft clean as a halved melon. Zhishen leapt back and reset his grip on the staff.

Then, from eyes that pierced through the dusk and the motionless ridge of the ceremonial blade, a calm voice rang out.

“Hey! Wait.” “Wait a second.” “Did you get scared, pilgrim?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about something since earlier,” “Could it be... you’re Lu Tixia?” “Huh? Who are you to know my former self?” “Phew, that was close…” The pilgrim immediately sheathed his ceremonial blade and strode briskly closer, bringing his face near. “It’s Shi Jin.” “Shi Jin the Nine-Tattooed Dragon—the one who parted with you at the Wei River.” “I’m in such a state myself—no, or rather, even if we’d collided head-on, I’d never have recognized you with how much you’ve changed.” “From Lu Tixia to a monk—quite the transformation indeed.”

The garden guard loves fellow insects—those of the same ilk.

Under the willow shade,the wine tent beckoned to passing Imperial Guardsmen. “Well，this was quite a coincidence.” “Ah，humans—you never know where you’ll part or where you’ll meet.”

Lu Zhishen declared—Shi Jin the Nine-Tattooed Dragon likewise found endless fascination in this serendipitous connection. Arm in arm, they began retracing their steps toward Tile Jar Temple. Along their path, Zhishen narrated to his companion the circumstances of his abrupt monastic transformation into the Flower Monk, while the Nine-Tattooed Dragon told of wandering through Yan'an and Beijing since departing the Wei River—never encountering the mentor he sought, Master Wang Jin—until finding temporary refuge from wind and rain within this desolate forest's abandoned temple.

“I see.” “Both of us—tossed between winds and waves—well, our paths aren’t so different after all.” “But I’m bound for Da Xiangguo Temple in Tokyo next. Shi Jin, what will you do?” “Playing pilgrim here was just scraping by—no real plans. I’d thought to visit Zhu Wu’s crew on Shaohua Mountain, hearing he’s there...” “That might serve.” “In this rotting end-times world, born contrarians like us can’t keep straight faces—it’ll only get harder to breathe...” “W-wait—hold!” “They’re still at it.”

“What is it, Flower Monk?” “Look—Monk Cui and Pilgrim Qiu Xiao-yi, who gave me such grief earlier, are still stubbornly keeping watch from that stone bridge’s railing over there.”

“Hahahaha. Those scoundrels living in Tile Jar Temple,” Shi Jin laughed. “Monk, there’s nothing to fear this time—not when the Nine-Tattooed Dragon stands ready to assist!” Even as he spoke, Qiu the Pilgrim and Monk Cui had already spotted them from the distant stone bridge. Their eyes blazed like torches through the gloom, bodies coiled to strike. But this confrontation differed starkly from Zhishen’s earlier solitary struggle. In their pitiful shortsightedness, the attackers who came charging met swift reversal—crude deaths beneath Shi Jin’s ceremonial blade and Zhishen’s whirling staff.

“Right then – once we’ve finished dealing with this lot, I must hurry back to the monastic storehouse to retrieve that vital pilgrim’s satchel I left behind.” “Shi Jin – will you wait here for me?”

“Nah—I’m coming with you.”

When they returned, fortunately, the pilgrim’s satchel remained untouched. However, here in this place, the elderly monks who had been barely clinging to life and a lone woman of unknown circumstances had all hanged themselves from the beams. It is likely that upon learning of Zhishen’s earlier defeat and flight—pursued by Cui and Qiu—they had been overcome by terror at what might befall them next, coupled with despair at living in such a world, which led them to choose death.

“Ah—every last one of them,” “…What a wretched thing they’ve done.” “But Buddhas—don’t lose your way! This isn’t my fault!”

Unusually, Zhishen made a peculiar prayer gesture and recited a half-remembered sutra. Seeing this, the Nine-Tattooed Dragon spoke up from beside him. “It’s because temples aren’t fulfilling their proper role—they’ve become perfect dens for villains—that things like this happen.” “We should just burn it all down for the sake of what’s to come.” “Right—let’s cremate it all to console the spirits of the dead, and make our descent from here.”

In the kiln where the dead had just moments ago been fighting over the porridge pot, a will-o’-the-wisp-like smoldering fire still remained. Zhishen took the fire from the firewood and set the monastic storehouse ablaze. And then the two men descended the evening mountain path, steadily making their way down to the foot.

“Oh, Flower Monk! Don’t you see that crimson lotus upon the mountain?” The two turned around—the entire sky rained down fiery sparks from a blazing canopy of flames. In the early Song Dynasty, Tile Jar Temple had been a renowned sanctuary where incense formed purple clouds and temple bells shone over mortal worship. Now, after a hundred years of weathering, its Dharma lamps perished everywhere alongside political turmoil, casting unreserved final radiance into the world’s darkness as if painting dying light across the void.

Zhishen and the Nine-Tattooed Dragon then traveled together for about two days' journey. When they reached the fork where Huazhou met the Kaifeng Road, they pledged to meet again and parted ways.

Now then—

One party reached the flowering capital of Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital, in a matter of days and promptly sought out Great Zen Master Zhi Qing at the mountain gate of Da Xiangguo Temple. “This humble monk is Zhishen, a disciple of Mount Wutai. Having received a letter of introduction from my teacher to train under this temple’s Zen master, I have come here. I humbly request your kind assistance in arranging an audience.”

With that, he took out Abbot Zhi Zhen’s letter from his pilgrim’s satchel, handed it to the duty monk, and sat down in the hall to await their decision.

*Hmm.* "Abbot Zhi Zhen of Mount Wutai had certainly sent quite a formidable character to this temple."

When Abbot Zhi Qing of Da Xiangguo Temple read about Zhishen’s background in the letter, he made a slightly disgusted face, yet at the same time could not help feeling a peculiar interest—something one might call characteristic of the Zen sect.

Among monks’ past lives there had been many unusual ones, but one like Zhishen was truly rare—a former provost of the Weizhou Military Commissioner’s Office who possessed a chivalrous spirit yet was quarrelsome and fond of drink, now a shaven-headed man due to prior murder convictions. "No doubt he proved too much even for Mount Wutai," thought Abbot Zhi Qing, "but since Zhi Zhen remains my old friend in the Way, were I to refuse him, he'd mock me as some petty Zen practitioner... Well—what am I to do?"

He gathered all the duty monks and put the matter to a council.

“The visiting itinerant monk—no matter how you look at him—cannot be accepted as a member of the clergy.” “He is an exceptionally imposing figure.” “First of all, his appearance is far from acceptable.” “He has an inexplicably menacing air.” “Moreover, when the reception monk welcomed him, he seemed utterly unfamiliar with Zen etiquette—fumbling with the incense tools, sitting mats, kasaya robes, and other implements he carried.” “It would be best to properly decline him for the sake of this temple, I believe.” Opinions clashed in a cacophony of voices. None welcomed him. Abbot Zhi Qing was thoroughly vexed.—Then, the chief temple administrator proposed an ingenious solution.

“A fool and scissors—as the saying goes—such a person might prove unexpectedly suited to being stationed at our temple’s affiliated vegetable garden management office.”

“I see, I see.” “Perhaps making him supervisor of the vegetable garden would work.” “You must understand—that garden beyond Suanzao Gate is alarmingly expansive.” “Not only do soldiers from nearby barracks raid it, but worse still are the ruffian quarters outside the gates.” “Year-round they breach the walls to brazenly steal melons and root vegetables—even the plow horses and oxen mysteriously disappear into their bellies.” “Yet the guards and temple monks can’t utter a word of protest.” “The brutes are simply too vicious.”

“That’s a brilliant plan,” said one council member. “What do you think, Zen Master? Why not have this wandering Lu Zhishen try serving as supervisor of the vegetable garden first for Your Reverence’s consideration?” “Hmm,” replied the Chief Temple Administrator, “if this is the council’s unanimous opinion...” By the temple’s collective decision, the chief monk promptly conveyed this arrangement to Zhishen. Zhishen made a sullen face. Even as a low-ranking monk like an alms master or bath master, he had apparently hoped to at least touch the fringes of clerical office. “Now now,” soothed the chief monk, “through continued training, one may gradually rise to higher positions—tea master, hall master, treasurer, or temple supervisor. But for now, you’ll start with the vegetable garden.”

Flattered and reluctantly, Zhishen was transferred to the fields outside Suanzao Gate. Titles like "management office" and "supervisor" might sound impressive, but arriving there revealed nothing more than a large guard shack for field watchmen. "...You've got to be kidding me." Alright then! If they think they can use me as a scarecrow in this shithole, I won't let them meddle in how I live! "Well then, might as well make myself comfortable," declared Flower Monk Lu Zhishen on the spot, settling into his signature "wild freedom" with the air of someone who'd become the area's grand landowner.

Before long, an unusual change had come over the atmosphere of the nearby ruffian district. The guys who had gone to raid the fields as usual returned to their den and spread the word.

“Oi, go check it out. “The guards’ve been replaced, I tell ya.” “This new guy’s some scary monk with a face like an eight-headed taro.” “Plus they’ve gone and stuck up some damn fussy notice on the gate.”

“So what if they changed guards?” “C’mon, let’s go see what kinda bastard this is and get a look at his face.” “And what the hell’s this notice about?”

The neighborhood ruffians banded together and surrounded the notice post. The text declared:

Henceforth, this temple shall have its monk Lu Zhishen manage the vegetable garden. Directives for cultivators and all vegetables for culinary use shall be entirely entrusted to the aforementioned individual. Furthermore, unauthorized persons shall not enter. Violators shall be punished. Let there be no regrets. Da Xiangguo Temple Administrative Office “What’s this? Ain’t nothin’ but the usual threats.” “Why don’t we go pay a visit to that Lu Zhishen bastard?” “Hey... Is he in the guardhouse?” “He’s here. He’s here. “What’s he even doing? Exposing his navel and whistling away with that vacant look on his face.”

“Heh heh heh. Bastard, it’s us who’re scary, y’know.” “Sneaking up all quiet-like like this—no way that bastard’s not pretendin’ not to notice us on purpose.” “But if we don’t give ’im the ol’ mud-bath treatment once, folks’ll start thinkin’ we’re soft.” “How ’bout it? Let’s serve that guy the special welcome we give every new guard.” “Hmm. The manure-dunk initiation, eh?” “Once we treat ’em to that, ain’t no tough guy stays cocky.” “Right, let’s do it.” “Nobody better wimp out now!”

Whether he noticed the ruffians swarming closer with their hidden motives and aggressive postures or not, Zhishen gave a great yawn, descended the steep ladder steps of the elevated guardhouse, and lumbered slowly toward the fields.

“Oh, excuse me,” one called out. “Might you be the revered monk newly appointed to guard duties here?” Li Si the Green Grass Snake and Zhang San the Winding Path Rat made twenty-odd comrades hang back as they bent slightly at the waist before Zhishen. To project menace, they performed the gamblers’ code—a ritual acknowledging no authority but their own. “Aye,” they declared, “we’re but good-natured fellows from round these parts. Having seen your notice about taking over watchhouse duties, we’ve come to make proper acquaintance.” “We humbly beg Your Reverence to show us kind regard.”

“Well, well,” Zhishen said, rounding his eyes.

“I thought some back-alley funeral procession took a wrong turn and wandered in here.” “Heh-heh-heh! You’ve got quite the sharp tongue there,” they replied. “Hey boys! This new monk guard seems like a reasonable sort. Come on out now—show some proper respect!” “Save your bows,” Lu Zhishen waved them off. “If you wanted to make nice, you’d have brought wine.” “Well now, aren’t we honored?” they simpered. “Though truth be told, proper etiquette says you should be buttering us up first. Enough with the games!” Zhang San barked at a scar-faced underling, “Lame-Eye! Our classy monk here wants drinks pronto! Scram to the liquor shop and butcher’s stall—make it snappy!”

“Right away,” came the response, and two or three of them rushed off.

At that signal, the gang of ruffians—who had exchanged knowing glances—surrounded Zhishen and, under various pretexts, gradually lured him toward the edge of a ridge where a large manure pit lay. Zhishen neither realized this was their scheme nor noticed that right behind where he stood was a cesspool. Moreover, at first glance, the pit's surface teemed with layer upon layer of flies—so densely packed they resembled a carpet of black soybeans—obscuring both the manure's true color and its stench. Zhishen simply forgot his boredom through their friendly expressions and foolish banter, naively amusing himself alongside them.

Then one of the ruffians let out a sudden shrill cry— "Ah! There's a huge horsefly on your ankle, monk!" Suddenly crouching down to his feet and pretending to swat at an insect, he made a grab for one of Zhishen's legs. Had they succeeded in seizing it, the outcome would have been clear—a headlong tumble into the manure pit behind them. Zhishen instinctively twisted his body. Having sent his assailant flying with a kick, he immediately turned toward another thug who had latched onto his other leg— "Not so fast!"

he delivered a flat-handed strike as if slapping a child’s cheek. They couldn’t withstand it—the two bodies leapt amicably into the manure pit. In an instant. A groan... A bell-like roar arose as flies filled the sky and ground, so thick that even the sun itself seemed dimmed. “Now, take ’im down!” All bark and no bite. What had seemed to swarm over Zhishen’s body proved no different from a sudden, blinding whirl of flies. Zhishen had already returned to the high floor of the guardhouse.

“Ahahaha! Wahahaha!” And there he was, all by himself, clutching his stomach. How had they managed to fish out their fellow thugs who’d sunk into the manure pit and drag them home? The mere thought of it amused Zhishen. He had thought this field guard duty an utterly tedious role, but now he’d stumbled upon an unexpectedly fine spectacle right in the neighborhood. How delightful were the creatures of this world. Come crawling back now and then, you vegetable thieves. At times—so he mused—even Zhishen was not without Buddha-nature. From that day onward, he found himself eagerly awaiting their appearances each dawn.

However, for the gang members from the rogue district, far from that, they huddled together in dimly lit secret meetings of every kind. “Alright everyone, get your act together! This new guardhouse monk—I thought he just looked different from those melon-head guards before, but seems like there’s something different inside him too. Can’t we come up with some way to smash him to bits just once?”

It was ten-odd days later. Whether concealing some meticulously crafted scheme or not, Snake Li and Rat Zhang came to the guardhouse to offer their apologies. "...Our underlings' mischief from the other day." "We most humbly beg forgiveness for failing to recognize your eminence," they declared with feigned solemnity, performing repeated kowtows as they proposed presenting him a ceremonial toast. With the groundwork laid and Zhishen stewing in the seasonal swelter besides, he accepted their invitation without second thought. When he followed them outside, there by the garden reservoir's edge—in the cool shade of willow trees—mats lay spread, wine jars stood ready, and baskets overflowed with meat dishes and fruits, while twenty or thirty of those usual ruffians waited in fearful reverence. They bowed their heads in unison,

“Here, sir,” “From this day forth, we—this rabble—humbly swear never to ravage the fields again. Should your honorable garden require any service, we shall perform any task. We beg you to consider us henceforth as your lowly field hands.” “Mighty well-behaved today,” “Nah—this garden’s got more vegetables than even the temple can eat.” “Take some in moderation. Take it.” “In return—don’t forget to pay your tributes to me now and then.” Zhishen drank without restraint and ate heartily. The thugs were astonished by his capacity for drink and rushed to the liquor shop three times.

“……Oh? What’s this?”

He finally noticed. Something would occasionally fall with a plop from the willow tree above onto his shoulders and head. Brushing it off with his hand had been a mistake. Herons and crows and such—in any case, it was unmistakably bird droppings. “Tch…” “There’s no foe more fearsome than one who’s not even a proper foe.”

Zhishen muttered and shifted his seating position slightly. Those singing, those clapping hands, and the ruffians all made merry. Then again, from the shade of the willow leaves overhead, the crows cawed raucously. Not only that, but from Zhishen’s collar down to his cup-holding hand, straw-like debris once again spilled. Zhishen flew into a rage and sprang to his feet. “Enough of this racket! Looks like this monstrous willow’s got a crow’s nest in it.” “We deeply apologize, Venerable Monk. We’ll fetch a ladder now and knock down the nest—please wait but a moment.”

“Need all that time and trouble? These crows are field-raiders too! Like this!”

Ah—the thugs involuntarily cried out in astonishment. Zhishen had stripped off his monastic robe. To the riotous display of hundred-flower tattoos covering his liquor-warmed flesh, their eyes were no doubt involuntarily captivated in a daze. But what left them thunderstruck went beyond that. As Zhishen embraced the massive willow trunk and tilted his upper body backward, the soil around its roots shifted with a deep rumble. With a guttural groan, heat haze shimmered from his half-naked form; the tree's main roots surfaced while fibrous tendrils broke through the earth—until with a thunderous crash, the great tree toppled uprooted.

“...How about that for this humble monk’s entertainment?”

Zhishen seemed to think it was a jest. But he was disappointed. When he noticed, the hoodlums around him had scattered and fled faster than a flock of crows. This was no mere astonishment that left them speechless—driven by terror, they seemed to have forgotten their schemes for the day and fled straight into town. Truly, from then on, they must have abandoned any thought of retaliation and submitted from the depths of their hearts. Afterward, even when they furtively showed themselves—whether calling him "Venerable Flower Monk" or "Venerable Flower Arhat"—they would flatten themselves like spiders from afar and rarely dared approach.

“This is lonely,” he muttered.

“Moreover, constantly being treated by them weighs on my conscience.” “Right—this time I’ll host them here myself.”

One day, he prepared wine and meat and instead invited them to a mat in the garden. With great joy, they came. In this atmosphere, even the usual Gejigeji, Uro Nezumi, and Aokusa Hebi proved unexpectedly childlike in their innocence—drinking, dancing, singing, and indulging in every manner of revelry without ever growing sated. “By the way, Venerable Flower Arhat. Today we humbly have a request from all of us—would you be so kind as to grant it?”

“What’s this to a poor humble monk like me?” “You possess such a splendid staff, Venerable Flower Monk. How about granting us the honor of witnessing your prowess just once? Everyone has been pleading for this.” “What? Are you saying you want me to show my martial arts? In that case, it’s free. That’s an easy favor.” To say nothing of its usual heft, his beloved steel-forged iron staff—weighing sixty-two jin—felt as if he hadn’t wielded it in ages. As soon as he took it, he left the wine mat. He first attempted one-handed swings, then showed stances like Hasso, Seigan, and Thrusting Spear posture. Further demonstrating secret arts—Dew Smasher, Whirlwind Breaker, Wave Striker, Heaven Piercer, Earth Driver—until finally, neither man nor staff remained visible, leaving only a whirlwind-like roar and buzzing circular light radiating through the air.

Then someone appeared. Near the collapsed section of a crumbling earthen wall,

“Ah, magnificent… Splendid!”

A voice escaped as if from one utterly lost in the moment. At the sound, Zhishen's focus slipped, and he turned toward the crowd of ruffians who had been holding their breath. "Who's there? The one peeking over there—the one who just let out that strange kiai—who is it?"

“Oh.” “Oh... That’s the Venerable Flower Arhat.” “In martial arts, he’s a master of great renown.” “He’s a military gentleman known as Lin Chong—one of the instructors for the eight hundred thousand Imperial Guards in Biancheng.” “What? Instructor Lin?” “Well now! He really got an eyeful watching me.” “I must pay my respects.” “Hey! Someone go invite him over properly.”

The lovebirds' nest was torn asunder by the tempest,

Even amidst the waves of a turbid world, there existed Buddha-hearted officials.

Lin Chong had an epithet. He was called Leopard Head, and collectively referred to as Leopard Head Lin Chong.

Born with a leopard-like narrow forehead, amber eyes, and a jaw as sharp as a swallow's—thus had that epithet been bestowed. His appearance unmistakably marked him as a capital warrior. His attire was refined. A green gauze martial jacket scattered with floral crest patterns; his silver belt bore a magnificent long sword. Moreover, the boots he wore were court-approved and tasteful. He appeared to be thirty-four or thirty-five. ...And soon, the stature approaching this way could only be described as exceptional. Zhishen welcomed the man to the mat, exchanged names with him, then presented a cup of wine. As they say—a man recognizes a man; the Way knows the Way. The two immediately laid bare their hearts to each other,

“Flower Monk, from now on I shall honor you as my sworn elder brother. Both in martial arts and by seniority of age, you are above me.”

When Lin Chong said this, Zhishen too responded, “To have you as my sworn brother would be an honor beyond this Lu Zhishen’s worth… But since you say so, let us exchange the cup of brotherhood here.”

And so, oblivious to the passage of time, the crisp breeze beneath the green shade seemed to rustle solely for these two, its freshness unmarred.

Then from somewhere came a woman's voice repeatedly calling, "Master! Master!"—clearly searching for Lin Chong. He immediately shot to his feet from the mat and turned toward the figure of a maid-like woman who had briefly appeared near the collapsed earthen wall from earlier.

“Hey, Jin’er! “I’m here! Here!” “Has something urgent happened?” “Ah! M-Master! It’s terrible! The mistress—”

The maidservant Jin’er continued her frantic babbling, rushing over while tearfully reporting something to her master. As he listened, Lin Chong’s leopard-like brow clouded with sharp hostility and anxiety—

“……Well, don’t cry.” After comforting Jin’er with a “There now,” he headed back toward the wine mat.

“As some concern has arisen regarding my wife’s well-being, I must take my leave today. Flower Monk, we’ll meet again someday.” “Hey, Leopard Head. You’ve suddenly gone pale—like wine’s warmth fled your face. Did something happen to your wife?” “No—it seems that while returning from visiting Dongyue Temple ahead with the maid Jin’er, we became entangled with some young warriors from the Palace Commandant’s office who are troubling us with their mischief. I cannot abandon her here. My apologies!” No sooner had he spoken than Lin Chong’s figure had already leapt over the distant collapsed earthen wall. To all appearances, it seemed as though a leopard’s body were cleaving through the wind itself.

It was only natural. For Lin Chong, this was his new wife - wed after years of courtship, their household newly established. Arriving at the scene, he found some ten warrior-like youths perched on the corridor railings of Wuyue Tower that stood beside Dongyue Temple. They toyed with blowgun tubes, pellet bows and bird whistles in their hands, while another group blocking the stairway entrance appeared as nothing less than a mob barring passage. "Oh! Oh! Those must be attendants of Gao Qiu's adopted son - Young Master Gao!"

It had seemed unthinkable—yet there they were. Under the corridor stood a white horse he recognized from daily life, fitted with a splendid golden saddle.—Now, if one were to ask who currently reigned as the foremost favored minister wielding power within Biancheng’s imperial gates under Emperor Huizong of the present Song dynasty—even a lowly stablehand from the Horse Office would immediately answer: “Why, that would be Lord Gao Qiu, Palace Commandant (Imperial Guard General).” As for Young Master Gao—in other words, he was that man’s adopted son. Originally the son of Gao Sanlang, an uncle of the Gao family, he had been adopted and become the scion of the prestigious household of the Imperial Guard General.

However, this Young Master, wielding his adoptive father’s authority, indulged in nothing but depravity. All of his retinue of attendants were nothing but a gang of upper-class delinquents, and the townspeople had come to refer to this pack of wicked noble sons as the "Flower Hunters." And among them, there were also those who muttered, "...Bloodlines cannot be disputed..." Among the capital’s citizens, there were still many who remembered that even Gao Qiu—now a favored minister of the current court—had once been nothing but a mere unruly drifter, proficient in brawling, gambling, calligraphy, painting, and all manner of diversions, until he ingratiated himself into powerful circles and, through his mastery of kickball, finally caught Emperor Huizong’s notice, achieving an outlandish upstart’s eel-like ascent. So it’s no wonder people didn’t find it suspicious that Young Master Gao—the adopted son—would immediately set his sights on other men’s daughters and wives, what with such woman-hunting being the Gao family’s specialty.

But that aside.

Lin Chong’s new wife was now clinging to the hall door of Wuyue Tower, struggling against the persistent Young Master Gao.

“No!” “I am a married woman.” “I cannot enter such a hall at strangers’ invitation.” “Release me.” “Let go!” “Now now—what’s wrong with that?” “You say ‘strangers,’ yet I’ve loved you since long ago—so deeply you haunt my dreams.” “Our meeting here was Dongyue Temple’s divine arrangement.” “Ah—those lips... those eyes...” “Disgusting! What are you doing?!” “How dare you?!”

“All women first raise their willow-leaf brows in defiance and say such things,” he sneered, “but once you’ve known another man, you’ll marvel at the sweet spring lying dormant within your own body.” “Fool!” she spat. “You lust-crazed degenerate!”

“Ouch! Very well. You struck my cheek with that beautiful slender hand. I too shall repay you with violence—with the violence of fiery love.” “Ah! … Someone, help!”

At that moment, Lin Chong cut through Gao’s attendants blocking the stairway entrance and charged up— “You troublemaker!” “What do you think you’re doing with another man’s wife?”

With that, he suddenly shoved Young Master Gao. And in the instant they were stunned, he swept his wife into his arms, swiftly taking shelter at the corridor's corner, then glared in readiness for whatever formation they might rally to attack with next. However, whether the opponent's group had been utterly terrified by the suddenness of events or not, they showed no sign of immediately seeking revenge.

“Oh… It’s Instructor Lin!” After exchanging whispered words—“Leopard Head?”—they immediately thundered down the stairs, ceremoniously placed Young Master Gao upon his white horse with golden saddle, and fled like dust churned up by scattering petals.

Into the newly established Lin household, from that time onward, an ominous shadow had crept in, and even the pitiful dreams of the mandarin duck couple were continually threatened by unseen demonic hands. They knew all too well this stemmed from Young Master Gao’s insidious persecution and obstinate covetousness. But precisely because they knew, it grew all the more terrifying. The adversary was a dependent of the Palace Commandant’s highest official. He was but a military instructor. There was nothing to be done. “Wife. Be careful both when I’m away and when you go out.”

"No, lately I've been having Jin'er handle all the shopping—I haven't stepped outside at all." Lin Chong and his young wife had grown so accustomed to keeping their voices hushed even within their home and sharpening their senses at every sound beyond the fence. This was because his wife had nearly been attacked on multiple occasions, unforeseen incidents had occurred during his absence while he was drinking at a friend’s house, and they had been cursed by mysterious phenomena time and again.

“……They’re not just targeting me alone." "If you care for me, then you must take care too." "...even when traveling to and from your duties at the Imperial Guard.”

Each time Lin Chong passed through the gate, his wife would say to her husband with tearful eyes. The man could not stay home.

Lin Chong put on a smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” “Even though I may look like this, in martial arts there’s no enemy who can stand before Leopard Head.”

—But one day, at the crossroads of Yuewu Square, he unexpectedly encountered Lu Zhishen. He had shared drinks with him several times since then, and their friendship had grown increasingly close, but—

“What’s wrong, Leopard Head? You look worse every time I see you.” “The autumn winds stir fallen leaves about, and this humble monk grows lonesome.” “Let’s share a drink somewhere nearby.”

And so, yielding to the invitation once again that day, he ducked under the eaves of the tavern. While conversing with the Tattooed Monk, he could forget everything. However, he neither spoke of his wife, nor did the other man attempt to ask about her. The two men left the tavern in Yuewu Square in the twilight hour and strolled leisurely through the streets. Then, from somewhere behind them, a man appeared—muttering in a strange, hushed sales pitch that was neither a proper call nor a whisper, his words trailing in a low mumble as he drew closer.

“Ah, how narrow, how narrow the world is. This capital teems with people, yet not a single soul with eyes to see… What a pity that none will behold such a splendid masterwork blade.”

Zhishen and Lin Chong, walking ahead, turned around slightly as if annoyed by the noise but soon appeared engrossed in their conversation.

Then, once more, from behind.

“This isn’t some common peddler’s blade.” “Circumstances force me to relinquish this treasure.” “Let this divine weapon slip through your fingers, and you’ll never cross paths with its like again in this lifetime.”

At that moment, the two men ahead parted ways at their usual crossroads. "...Let's meet again soon," said Lu Zhishen as he departed. Watching his retreating figure fade into the distance, Lin Chong involuntarily murmured: "What a fine thing... True friends are indeed precious."

"What a marvelous thing," he mused. "True friendship..."

And then, just as he was about to start walking again, a man around forty years old—dressed in blue cotton ronin attire and wearing a square headcloth—approached Lin Chong’s side, holding up a splendid treasured blade in his hands with a straw tag attached that clearly read “For Sale.”

“How about it? A bargain—three thousand strings.” “A sword? I’ve already got blades at my hip and at home. No need for another.” “So even you warriors are blind?” “What?” “This ain’t some run-of-the-mill trash. If you’ve got eyes, draw it and see for yourself.”

“I see. The craftsmanship does look impressive.” “Tch.” “Amateurish. I ain’t peddling hilt-work or scabbard-craft.” “Don’t want it?”

“Well, wait.” —Unable to resist his fascination, he reached out and firmly gripped three sun below the sword’s koi-guchi at the scabbard’s mouth. The man released his hand. Lin Chong involuntarily let out a mental grunt—Hmm. Its essence—an irresistible texture and heft. When he drew the blade under evening stars, dew nearly spilled from its hilt. Gazing... scrutinizing... his eyes became bound to this peerless masterwork’s spirit, gradually ensnared by temptation he couldn’t relinquish. “Ronin—why part with such divine steel?”

“Why, you ask?... Take a look at these rags I’m wearing—you’d understand.” “A starving wife and children are waiting.” “Asking more than that would be a sin.” “I won’t ask.” “How much?”

“I’ve been yelling ‘three thousand strings!’ for days now, but it won’t sell.” “But since I see you’re a man with a keen eye, I’ll cut it down to half for you.”

“I want it. But I’m a bit short on funds.”

“One thousand strings. Not a single coin less after this. If that’s acceptable...” “Very well, come to my gate.” Finally, Lin Chong obtained it. The wife was also pleased. Not only did he acquire a family heirloom, but it was said this peerless blade could ward off demons and malevolent spirits. He also embraced such mental fortitude.

―And so.

About three days passed.

A messenger arrived from Deputy Lu Qian of the Palace Commandant’s office. When he opened the document, It has been reported. It has been reported that Your Excellency has recently acquired a peerless treasured blade. That a military man’s devout consideration has been conveyed to Commander Gao Qiu does not diminish his admiration; indeed, it is truly worthy of shared celebration. Following these congratulatory words, it concludes as follows.

...Regarding this matter, it is Commander Gao Qiu’s esteemed desire that the treasured heirloom blade of the Gao family and Your Excellency’s cherished blade be compared and jointly appreciated one evening. Therefore, as we will send an envoy tomorrow to receive you, we request that you kindly bring it. Deputy Lu [Qian] With a Hundred Bows

"Hah..." Who had learned about the sword? When had they spoken of it? It was after all something bought on the main thoroughfare. "It's not impossible someone saw." Lin Chong felt faint suspicion, and his wife sensed some inexplicable foreboding—but bearing Deputy Lu Qian's authority from the Palace Commandant's office, this official summons could not be refused. If the document's contents were truthful, this might even be considered an honor. Whatever awaited him—the next day Lin Chong donned formal attire, carried the treasured blade, and accompanied by the envoy, set out for the Commander's official residence.

When passing through the gate of the official residence where guards were visible, the envoy accompanying Lin Chong instructed: “Proceed through that central gate and advance along the eastern palace corridor.” “At those steps, either an attendant or deputy should be awaiting Your arrival.” Following these directions, he proceeded further inside. Yet no one stood there to greet him. “What the…?”

When he turned around, an unfamiliar guard in the distance stood silently pointing toward the northern corridor. Concluding this must be either misdirection or mishearing, he proceeded northward and found another gate. The area now clearly belonged to forbidden palace grounds, where imperial guards in resplendent armor stood motionless with halberds; upon seeing Lin Chong, they offered silent salutes like mutes. Even Lin Chong—Instructor of the Imperial Guards—had never before ventured into such precincts. He grew uneasy. Where exactly was he meant to go? Climbing the steps of an ornate pavilion and peering within, he glimpsed an inner courtyard beyond which rose only a single hall ringed by green balustrades.

*Is that it...?* "There's a presence nearby..." Crossing the bridge corridor, he quietly peered into a chamber behind beaded curtains. Then, on the plaque adorning the front transom—written in ink so fresh its aroma still lingered—was: White Tiger Hall

There were four large characters. Lin Chong jolted to a halt, frozen in place, "Ah. This is bad. The Hall of Military Deliberations is where military secrets are discussed—I’ve heard none may enter save high-ranking officials privy to state affairs. I’ve wandered into such a heavily restricted area!"

He hurriedly tried to retreat backward. But it was already too late. With loud bootsteps ringing out, a general swiftly pushed open one of the doors and appeared. This was none other than Gao Qiu—once a mere ball player named Gao Qiu, now Commander of the Palace Commandant’s office, whose influence in Emperor Huizong’s court was so formidable it could strike down birds mid-flight. “Hey! What are you doing here? A villain spying on the Hall of Military Deliberations!” “Ah. Your Excellency Gao? I am Instructor Lin Chong, having come in response to Your Excellency’s summons—” “What? By summons? When did I ever call you? I don’t recall any such thing! Suspicious excuses—”

“No—no— This unworthy one most certainly received Deputy Lu’s summons.” “Lu Qian! Are you there?! Arrest this man! Someone has come to assassinate me!”

“Ah! Why would I—” Already, soldiers had encircled him on all sides like an iron barrel. Among them stood Deputy Lu Qian, whose face he knew well. Lin Chong turned toward him, “Wasn’t it you who sent the messenger?” “The letter from you in my home is proof enough.” “Why do this to me?” “Hey! This isn’t a joke.” “Answer me!” Though he shouted with rage, Lu Qian paid no heed.

“Hahahaha.” “What foolish nonsense!” “Why would His Excellency Gao summon a mere instructor like you?” “Did you sneak in to steal military secrets for an enemy state? Or perhaps plot against His Excellency’s life out of some grudge?” “It must be one or the other—Now! Don’t let him use that treasured sword!”

The soldiers roared out, pressed Lin Chong’s body down, bound his arms behind his back, and by day’s end had him lowered into the prison.

The prison was located within the premises of the Kaifeng Magistrate’s Office. As a criminal transferred from the influential Gao family and given the nature of the charges, he was a prisoner all but sentenced to beheading. However, in his capacity as magistrate, proceeding so directly proved impossible. The magistrate ordered his assistant officer Sun to conduct the investigation. He then took the time required until preliminary evidence could be secured.

This could be considered a stroke of fortune for Lin Chong even amid his tribulations. Or perhaps it was that the mortal duties he was meant to fulfill in this world had not yet reached their end? Sun, the assistant officer whose given name was Ding, had long been admired by both prisoners and society as a compassionate and upright official. When it came to nicknames—though they weren’t ones given kindly—there was none who didn’t know him as “Buddha’s Grandson.” Having long understood Lin Chong’s character and immediately sensing that the Hall incident reeked of Gao family fabrication, Sun took it upon himself to investigate the circumstances.

As a result, young master Gao’s improper infatuation came to light. And it became clear that sycophantic and cunning lackeys surrounding him—Lu Qian, Fu An, and their ilk—had craftily ensnared Lin Chong in a trap. Moreover, this aligned with the cries of wrongful accusation that Lin Chong had voiced in the magistrate’s court. “I have unraveled all the mysteries up to this point. The relentless curses of young master Gao—who seeks to eliminate this Lin Chong and steal my wife—have undoubtedly taken various forms to ceaselessly torment and threaten my wife and household.”

—Even the chief magistrate acknowledged this. But even for the magistrate, the Gao family’s glare was fearsome. Even if they could present evidence and witnesses proving wrongful conviction, acquittal remained impossible—they hesitated over whether any punishment other than execution would suffice. “Then, Magistrate—if I may inquire…” At this, Sun the Assistant Officer—unlike his usual Buddha’s-Grandson Sun demeanor—flushed crimson and pressed forward during sentencing.

“Does this magistrate’s office exist not for the court and people, but for the Gao family?” “Sun Ding, what are you saying? That may be a slight exaggeration.” “But if Your Honor shows such hesitation, would that not give the commoners the impression that this is akin to a private court of the Gao family? To say nothing of that—the Gao family’s tyranny and young master Gao’s misconduct are things all the citizens of Kaifeng have seen and know of, though they don’t speak of them.”

“Then, how do you propose we should judge Lin Chong’s execution?” “In any case, the death penalty is unacceptable. You must absolutely not pass a death sentence. However, a light penalty would never satisfy the Gao father and son. How about reducing the death penalty by one degree and sentencing him to exile in the borderlands?”

“Well,” said the magistrate. “What do you think—would such a punishment suffice?” “There will be no issue,” Sun Ding replied. “The Gao family’s side also had lapses. I have secured Deputy Lu Qian’s letter from the Lin household. If that evidence is brought to light, their treacherous scheme will stand fully exposed. No matter how mighty the Gao family may be, they should be unable to utter even a sigh of protest—this I firmly believe.”

In the corrupt world of the late Song Dynasty, there still existed this one good official.

On that very day, exile was decided, and Lin Chong had his sentence pronounced at White Sands Hall. By the customs of the time, he was stripped half-naked, given twenty beatings across his back, and tattooed on the face. For transport, they fastened an iron-reinforced cangue about his neck and sealed its lock with an official stamp. The destination was Cangzhou Prison Camp in Hebei Province—a vast penal labor camp gathering convicts from every province. Even the Gao family of the Palace Commandant’s Office—whose approval had been formally sought—found themselves powerless against the judicial verdict. Without protest, they stamped their official seal upon the documents and returned them.

Now.

The day of the prisoner's escort finally arrived. When Lin Chong stepped out through the gate of the Kaifeng Magistrate's Office, his form—after barely a month—had already wasted away to reveal protruding cheekbones, his very footing grown unsteady. That day, even the townspeople and relatives seeing him off who had crowded the streets could not hold back their tears at the sight: "...Is this the same Instructor Lin we knew until yesterday?" Under public scrutiny, they eventually crossed Zhou Bridge and exited the capital gate, where yet another crowd awaited them. Then from within emerged Lin Chong's wife and her father, running out—

“Oh, dear son-in-law. ...We’ve been waiting. Let’s have our brief farewell at that tavern over there.” With that, he led them to the back of a shop resembling a muleteer’s teahouse. Of course, this required the usual sufficient bribery. And so, They gained this chance to weep over their fleeting farewell, but his wife—heedless of all propriety—buried her tear-streaked face in Lin Chong’s chest and would not release him. Even when the escort officers outside began shouting “Time! Time!”, she still refused to let go.

Lin Chong covered his eyes, steeled his resolve there, and deliberately spoke harshly. "No matter how long we grieve together, this parting will not end." "Moreover, if you think deeply about it, clinging and weeping endlessly isn’t the only form of love." "If I, Lin Chong, am no longer here, Young Master Gao will surely subject you and your father to every manner of cruel scheme." "...Hurry and hide yourself somewhere." "And you’re still young—if a good match comes along, marry into another family, forget about me, and live happily."

He immediately borrowed a brush and inkstone from the tavern’s elderly proprietor, wrote a divorce document, and entrusted it to his father-in-law. “How heartless… Do you think I’m that sort of woman?” “I refuse!” “Not even death would make me do such a thing!” The wife, nearly fainting from anguish, still clung to her husband’s knees and wailed bitterly. Even through this, the escort officers kept rapping on the eaves. “Hurry up! Move it!” they pressed urgently. At last, the father-in-law wrenched his hysterical daughter away, then collapsed with her in his arms like one dead from grief. Turning from this scene, the waist shackles driving Lin Chong’s gaunt frame mercilessly propelled him down the road toward the distant exile lands.

The escort officers were men named Dong Chao and Xue Ba—petty officials (low-ranking functionaries). At that time, under Song Dynasty custom, roadside inns were required to provide free lodging for low-ranking officials escorting prisoners. Therefore, these petty officials would start their own fires and cook millet upon arriving at an inn, pocketing travel allowances as a job perk—they considered it sufficient to give prisoners just enough food to sustain their meager lives.

On the second day after exiting the Eastern Capital’s gate, as dusk fell upon a small post town, there was a man who had stationed his horse before a rural tavern and waited for them. Clad in a black gauze robe with swastika-patterned hood, yellow leather kneeling hakama, and riding boots—such was his attire— and holding his whip in a reverse grip,

“Ah, officers! You’ve arrived at last. You’ve endured much.” As if this meeting had been prearranged in the Eastern Capital, when he gave them a meaningful look, the petty officials immediately went to a nearby inn, bound Lin Chong’s waist shackles to a room pillar, and hurried back to the rural tavern. The man in the swastika-patterned hood had already arranged food and drink on the table while waiting. Twenty taels of silver each, stacked in two piles, lay directly before them on the table.

“Come now, drink freely. From here to Cangzhou—a journey of several hundred li—you’ll find no decent food or drink along the way.” “Y-yes sir. We’re deeply obliged... Though truth be told—standing before an esteemed Deputy Commander of the Palace Commandant’s Office like yourself—we can’t help but feel rather stiff.” “This isn’t official business—no need for such formality. We too must avoid prying eyes. Regarding that matter where I discreetly sent messengers to your homes before leaving Kaifeng Magistrate’s Office—you understand what needs doing?”

“W-well…that’s just it…sir.” “We’re in a real bind here.” “The two of us put our heads together and discussed it—but you see—the magistrate’s office insists we must deliver this prisoner alive to the exile site without fail…if anything were t’happen…even petty officials like us would face punishment…”

“I know that already—precisely why the Gao family secretly entrusted you bastards with this request through their orders, no? If this isn’t done, Deputy Lu Qian won’t return unscathed. You refuse?” “N-No! Unthinkable! When petty officials like us receive a private request from Your Excellency, we can’t refuse right or wrong. But our usual pay’s meager—at home we’ve got wives, kids, elders all starving. If we lose our posts... from that very day—”

“Haven’t I been telling you this all along? If you succeed in killing that Lin Chong along the way to Cangzhou with your own hands—not only will you get your reward in silver—we’ll employ you for life as gardeners or whatever suits you in the Gao household. You’ll never want for food, I guarantee it.”

“Yes. That’s truly a most generous offer, sir. I even told this guy here, ‘It’s a job for life!’ but…” “What half-baked bastards you are. What’re you still moping about?” “If it were some ordinary prisoner, we’d’ve done it quick enough—but this here’s Panther Head Lin Chong we’re talking about, instructor of the Imperial Guard! If we mess this up…”

“Imbeciles! What do you think these head shackles and waist chains are for? Either bash his skull in some deserted mountain pass or shove him off a cliff path and finish the job afterward—both would serve. But mark this—as proof you’ve killed Lin Chong, peel the skin bearing his convict’s tattoo from his face and bring it back. Understood? Now that we’re clear, drink up heartily.—And take these twenty silver taels as your advance deposit.”

Bribes were a routine part of income for petty officials like them, but this time both the parties involved and the sums exchanged were of a different order altogether. It seemed like a chance to grasp their entire life’s fortune.

And so, on the morning after parting with Lu Qian, the two petty officials once more gripped their three-foot staffs in one hand, drove Lin Chong onward with blows to his back—blow after blow—and set out with grim resolve toward distant Cangzhou along the long road beneath towering mountain shadows.

The path of the world mirrors life's vicissitudes.

Even on the path of exile, there existed gates of chivalrous patrons.

As the saying went, the road to Cangzhou spanned two thousand ri—each ri measuring six cho in the shinari system. The path wound through treacherous passes and hairpin turns. The two jailers—low-ranking prison officers—drove Lin Chong onward daily by yanking his rope collar, all while debating: “Now then—where should we finish this bastard off?” “If he were some common convict, it’d be simple work—but this is the instructor who trained eight hundred thousand Imperial Guardsmen.” “Even with that head shackle... One slip-up, and our own necks will roll!” Before they realized it, over ten days had passed in this manner. Such meticulous malice paradoxically left few openings for their scheme.

“Oi, Xue,” one of the jailers whispered to his counterpart Dong. “Day after day like this, we ain’t gettin’ nowhere. Gotta make our move soon.” “Got it.” “Trouble is tryin’ to finish ’im all at once.” “Startin’ tomorrow, we’ll make Lin Chong’s feet tread every milestone on his road to hell.” “After that prep work—if we cut ’im down clean, what’s to botch?”

That night.

When they arrived at the mountain inn, Xue the jailer swiftly went around to the back entrance and brought a foot-washing basin filled with scalding hot water that bubbled like boiling droplets. “Hey, Instructor Lin Chong, go ahead and wash your feet with this,” he said. “Tired feet are best soaked well in hot water. You’ll sleep better at night too.”

“Oh.” “Thank you for this.” “What’s this? Ah—the head shackle’s in the way. Can’t bend down properly, can you? Alright, alright—I’ll untie those straw sandals for you.”

“That’s unthinkable,” Lin Chong protested. “For a jailer to tend to a prisoner’s feet—such a thing.” “It’s fine,” Xue Ba insisted with false warmth. “Come now—out with those feet. In the capital we couldn’t act so familiar, but on this long road together—what need for formalities between fellow travelers?” Deceived by the feigned kindness, Lin Chong unwittingly plunged his feet into the basin—not realizing the water boiled. Before he could recoil, his ankles blistered red. Clutching his scalded flesh, he collapsed writhing as if life itself might escape him. “Heh,” Xue snorted at his agony. “What’s all this fuss?”

The two jailers didn’t so much as glance his way. They began preparing their own meal following the inn’s established practice of self-catering, then drank their nightcap and made merry. Of course, millet rice heaped in a wooden bowl—as if feeding a horse—was placed before Lin Chong’s head shackle…

But with the pain of his burns and no appetite to speak of, he could not sleep a wink throughout the night. To make matters worse, the next morning they forced him into new straw sandals, so that after walking several ri, the sandal straps became soaked in blood, and the mixture of dried blood and soil tore at the skin of his feet all day long. “Oi oi, Instructor Lin! What’s wrong with you? With that hobbling pace of yours, we’ll take half a year to reach Cangzhou! Hurry up and walk—hurry up!” “Ugh... I truly cannot walk. Even now I am drenched in sweat.”

“What? You can’t walk?” As Xue raised his water-fire staff (prison guard’s baton), Dong stopped him,

“Now now, don’t be so short-tempered,” said Dong Chao, stopping Xue Ba’s raised staff. “His feet will heal in time. Come now, keep walking.” With their staff tips, they kept prodding Lin Chong’s back and waist as they went—this torment being far crueler than outright beatings.

On the third day after that, they arrived at the primeval forest known as Wild Boar Forest. Worn down by nightly sleep deprivation and fatigue, even Lin Chong now seemed to doze off while standing at times, staggering about in disarray. The two jailers exchanged knowing looks. "Ah, I'm spent," "How about we take a short nap here?"

“Alright.” “But what about the rope bindings?” “If Instructor Lin were to escape while we’re dozing off, that would spell disaster.”

Since Lin Chong wanted to rest too, he inadvertently spoke up. "To ease your concerns, please bind this unworthy one's body firmly to the tree roots."

“Alright... Alright then—sorry ’bout this—we’ll have you stay like that for a bit.”

Lin Chong had left himself entirely to their handling. They bound Lin Chong's wrists and ankles tightly to the trunk of a great tree, then abruptly—

“Alright!” “Now he’s ours!”

With that, they leapt up. At their suddenly transformed visages,

“Ah!” “What are you doing?!” Lin Chong cried out, but it was already too late. They raised their water-fire staffs from both sides,

“Hey Lin Chong, don’t resent us. For you, this marks the end of your earthly fate. For us, it’s the path to advancement. ‘Kill Lin Chong, peel off the golden seal tattoo from his face, and return—Commander Gao’s household has promised us lifelong comfort.’ Those were Deputy Lu Qian’s orders. If you’ve got grievances, take them up with him!” No sooner had they spoken than two staffs whipped through the air as if to shatter Lin Chong’s skull. However, one staff emitted a strange metallic clang and flew skyward, while the other—twisted along with its wielder’s arm—sent both jailers slamming to the ground.

The one who had appeared there was Lu Zhishen, the Tattooed Monk, who had heard of Lin Chong's peril and pursued him from the capital gates of Kaifeng.

“Now that I’ve caught up, you jailer bastards might as well be my servants!” Zhishen turned toward a nearby standing tree, swung his monk’s spade, and struck it once then twice. No living timber could endure such might—every trunk split and shattered like greenwood snapped by some colossal beast.

The two jailers trembled violently, their voices frozen.

“Instructor. What a wretched state you’ve been reduced to.” The Tattooed Monk was prone to tears. Showing such care, he untied Lin Chong from the tree roots before continuing: “...What will you do, Leopard Head? Do you want to flee here? Or do you intend to be hauled all the way to Cangzhou Prison Camp?” “O Tattooed Monk...” Lin Chong choked with the joy of reunion. “I too am a man. I cannot save myself alone. If I were to flee, it would make my beloved wife and father-in-law in the capital bear this calamity’s brunt in my stead. After all, this unworthy one will go to the penal colony and submit to hard labor.”

“I see… There’s no alternative.” “Then at least I’ll escort you near Cangzhou.” “Come—ride on this monk’s back.” “Don’t mock me. A convict like myself—” "A convict like myself—" “What hesitation?” “At Da Xiangguo Temple’s vegetable garden, did we not become oath-sworn brothers?” “You’re my blood brother!” “Now heed your elder!” Thus for days the Tattooed Monk carried him piggyback while the jailers bore luggage and ran errands. At every roadside inn, they were ordered about like lowly servants.

Thanks to this, Lin Chong’s legs completely healed, and with ample nourishment daily, he regained health surpassing even his former state. Moreover, his traveling companion was a sworn brother willing to die for him, while the jailers acted as servile attendants.—Forgetting both the fate awaiting them ahead and the hardships of the long journey, they walked joyfully for dozens of days.

“Brother. Though our reluctance knows no end, I hear tomorrow we’ll enter the neighboring county before Cangzhou. Tonight, let’s share a drink to our parting.” That night at the cheap inn, the Tattooed Monk had a rustic farewell banquet prepared. They poured drinks for each other to their hearts’ content, but the sorrow of parting could not be drowned by wine.

"...Leopard Head." "Your worries must lie with your beloved wife and father-in-law in the capital, but this Zhishen means to stay at Da Xiangguo Temple's vegetable garden awhile yet." "I'll keep watch from afar—no need for fretting." "Here's silver I've got with me." "They say hell's judgments follow their own course—take this," he said, passing him about twenty taels before flinging smaller silver pieces to the jailers beside them. "Hey! Ox-Head and Horse-Head!" "Yes, sir!" "Starting tomorrow, with this Tattooed Monk gone—if you dogs dare mistreat the Instructor again, I won't have it!" "You'll likely scamper back to Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital once your duty's done anyway." "Best remember this face of mine well!"

“W-we understand all too well, sir!”

The next morning, as they left the eaves of the cheap inn, Zhishen once again bid farewell to Lin Chong and turned back toward the skies of Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital, like the wind.

That day, the group entered Cangzhou County.

The next day.

Before long, the settlements began to suggest suburban outskirts, with groups of village maidens and children visible along the road intensifying the rustic bustle of human activity. When they eventually arrived near what seemed to be a stone bridge spanning the village's irrigation canal—

“Oh! Oh! The great master of the Chai household appears to be returning from the hunt!” At this exclamation, both the men and women catching river fish along the banks and the farmers loading field crops onto handcarts all moved to the roadside edge, assuming postures as if greeting a local lord’s procession. One of the jailers questioned a local resident. “Beyond that stone bridge over there—I see the gate of an opulent mansion. Is that what they call the Chai family?”

“Hmm?” “You there—don’t you know Lord Chai Jin?” “You’re those prisoner escorts who make regular runs to Cangzhou, aren’t you?” “Can’t say I’ve heard much myself—is he truly such a celebrated man around here?”

“It’s not just around here—Chai Jin’s renowned indeed. His byname is Little Whirlwind, and he’s so merciful to the poor that he keeps dozens of masterless warriors and vagrants as retainers at all times. For example, even exiles like you—if you approach his gate, he’ll surely give alms, put you up for the night, show you kindness—anyway, he’s a truly remarkable lord, a chivalrous magnate!”

“Ah, I remember now. They say there’s some grand family in Cangzhou’s outskirts that keeps an imperial edict from Emperor Taizu Wude of Song as their ancestral treasure.” “That’s right—that’s the Little Whirlwind Lord Chai Jin I just mentioned, this land’s chivalrous patron. ……Ah! He’s already arrived. That’s him on the horse there.”

Looking, sure enough, a group of people and horses was descending from the riverside path upstream.

It was clear at a glance that they were returning from a hunt. Among the numerous attendants were porters carrying game such as wild boars, deer, and long-tailed birds. Furthermore, Chai Jin himself was mounted on a white horse with curly hair equipped with a rimmed saddle, his attire consisting of a gauze cluster-flower headscarf, a purple robe with floral round patterns, a jewel-inlaid belt, green-striped short trousers, and vermilion leather riding boots.

He appeared to be around thirty-four or thirty-five years old. With arched brows like a dragon's and phoenix-like eyes beneath crimson lips, he stood as a truly dashing embodiment of chivalrous handsomeness. Across his back lay a quiver of hunting arrows, while his hand clasped a rattan-wrapped bow.

“Ah!” “...Wait.”

Just as they were about to pass by, Chai Jin suddenly turned around and said to one of his attendants: “Go inform those jailers escorting the Cangzhou-bound cangue prisoner visible by the roadside and have him brought here.”

"...His bearing didn't seem that of an ordinary man," Chai Jin thought. Day after day, there had not been a day when he did not see prisoners being sent to Cangzhou, but he had never seen a bearing like that man's. The attendants immediately ran and brought Lin Chong and the jailers before him. This chance encounter would only later come to be known as the event that drastically altered the fate of Leopard Head Lin Chong—but in that moment, after exchanging names, "So my eyes did not deceive me—you would be the renowned Lin Chong of the martial world, until recently serving as Imperial Guard Instructor," Chai Jin declared. "Even among the retainers and young followers under my care, I have often heard accounts of those who received your instruction during their days in the capital. In any case, I must insist you stay tonight at my humble residence."

Thus escorted, they merely passed through the gate of the Chai household without ceremony. Yet even at that night's welcoming banquet, an incident occurred. Among the many family members and retainers was an arrogant martial artist whom all addressed as "Master Hong." Though he drank copiously, Chai Jin's single-minded deference to Lin Chong—praising his bearing and seating him above Hong—left Master Hong's demeanor unmistakably betraying inner displeasure.

Blissfully unaware, Chai Jin remained in high spirits and— “Here now—serve wine to these two jailers as well.” “And give them silver coins, cloth bolts—whatever they desire.” “In exchange, this very night under my charge as Chai Jin, I shall safeguard Master Lin Chong’s person.”

He was saying such things. Of course, those bribes were payment for removing the cangue. For the jailers too, it went without saying that lining their pockets was preferable to facing menacing glares. Thus, for this night alone, Lin Chong was free from his cangue and could wholeheartedly enjoy the feast. However, even this displeased Hong the Instructor. "...What's so remarkable about Lin Chong's martial arts?" "Moreover—isn't he just an exiled prisoner?" His gaze dripped with utter contempt.

“Ah…” “Master Hong, you’re nursing resentment.” As the banquet reached its peak of revelry, Chai Jin had finally noticed.

At that moment, in the garden, the winter moon shone as clear as a mirror. He seemed to have been stirred by a desire to depict a heroic tableau there.

“How about it, Master Hong? Usually your opponents are just the young ones at the estate or country swordsmen—you rarely get chances to display those divine skills of yours. Now that Master Lin Chong, former instructor of the Imperial Guard, graces us with his presence—what fortuitous timing—how about testing yourselves in a match?”

“Hmm. That does sound intriguing.” It seemed he wanted to say he had been waiting for this moment—but Master Hong solemnly assumed his stance and fixed Lin Chong with a sharp glare.

“I have no objections. However, this one’s blade knows neither restraint nor mercy.” “Since this is understood—”

“Master Lin Chong—Master Hong makes such claims, but what say you?” “Well... This unworthy one’s staff techniques hardly merit demonstration.” “Then let us proceed to the garden.” There, it was the two jailers who rejoiced—for they had seen Hong the Instructor brandish his great sword and take stance in the moonlit garden. Should Lin Chong fall beneath that blade’s single stroke, their objective would be achieved without bloodying their own hands. Holding this thought, they alone swallowed hard in tense anticipation—a stark contrast to the crowd’s eager fascination.

However, the moonlit match culminated in Lin Chong's victory in but an instant.

He took up his staff and faced his opponent, but the moment blade and staff clashed—no one’s eyes could follow where or how he had struck. All that remained clear was Hong the Instructor with his arm broken, crawling clumsily across the ground. “Ah! As expected—truly as expected!” “This surpasses even the magnificence I had heard described.” “That you must endure hard labor in the prison camp despite possessing such skill—what capricious jest is this from fate?”

Chai Jin seemed to deepen his sympathy all the more.—The next day, when he was to depart, he wrote letters of introduction addressed to the Cangzhou governor he regularly associated with, the Prison Warden of the prison camp, and the Jailer among others, then additionally presented two envelopes each containing twenty-five taels of silver along with them, “Now, please take good care of yourself as you work.” “I will have winter clothing delivered to you in due time.” he encouraged. Furthermore, in an act of utmost kindness, he even assigned two young men to escort him all the way to the gates of Cangzhou Prison Camp.

Having narrowly escaped death in the icy toil,

The prison gates—a single road leading to Liangshan Marsh.

“...Ah, so this was the great penal labor camp of Cangzhou Prison I had long heard described as a place beyond this world.” A frozen continental expanse evoking the skin of the dead. The shadow of a wild goose passing overhead made its very survival seem a miracle.

“To think I’d be subjected to hard labor in a place like this...”

Lin Chong could only look on in dismay, time and again. Even so, it was impossible to tell just how much weight Chai Jin’s letters of introduction and silver carried here. By rule, new prisoners were first beaten senseless with a hundred strikes of the intimidation cudgel until they lost consciousness and were made to undergo their "rebirth into hell"—but he had escaped this. Moreover, it was customary for prisoners to be stripped naked before the Prison Warden, forced to crawl on all fours, have their anuses probed with a metal rod, ordered to stick out their tongues or shave their pubic hair—subjected to every manner of inhuman insults and torments—but even this, for now, he had been spared.

And now, with the registration and golden seal inspection fully completed, once his workplace for labor was decided, he would first be counted as one among hell’s populace, and thus his endless life of hard labor would begin. “Hey, new fish. Get over here.” “Your job’s been decided—guardian of the Prison Deity Hall.” “That’s mercy for you.” “You’d better be grateful.” The jailer grabbed him and marched briskly through the unimaginably vast prison grounds, eventually pointing to an old hall housing the shrine of Yama, the King of Hell.

“This here, hey—also called the Heavenly King Hall. It’s the execution ground within this exile colony. Prisoners who don’t obey the rules get dragged here one after another to face heavy punishments out front: buried alive, sawed apart, ears and noses cut off—all sorts. But hey, you just gotta burn incense morning and night, do some cleaning, and keep up your guard duties. That’s all there is to it.” “That was truly fortunate.” “Compared to other prisoners.”

“That’s right. You’d better be damn grateful, or you’ll get what’s coming to you.” “In addition to that, might I humbly request Your Honor’s arrangement to somehow grant leniency regarding this cangue?” “You want it removed? Hmph, that’ll cost quite a bit, you know.” “As for silver, I do not mind offering all that I currently possess here.” “Is that so? Of course, you’ve still got those deliveries from the Chai family coming in. Hmm, leave it to me.”

The jailer received the silver and left, but eventually came that evening and removed the cangue.

Winter deepened.

Even as the continent’s icy ground froze rock-hard, the tens of thousands of prisoners were granted not a single day’s rest. People—mere skeletons caked in rags, grime, snot, and eye gunk—would trudge out at dawn like columns of ants, only to gather back in gloomy hordes like spent smoke by dusk before finally sleeping. The prison labor camp spanned thirty ri in every direction. Agriculture, civil engineering, blacksmithing, carpentry, dyeing, leather tanning, carriage making, livestock herding, dairy farming, weaving—their production spanned every sector. But these were not goods for local consumption. Most were transported to the capital to feed the Song Dynasty’s extravagance, the opulence of powerful clans, and military expenditures.

But Lin Chong was spared from having to taste hard labor thanks to Chai Jin. Because Lin Chong had distributed all the items sent from Chai Jin to the jailers, he alone was tacitly permitted the freedom of special treatment. Occasionally, he would go out to town to do shopping and such.

Then, one day.

From behind came the sound of someone calling insistently, "...Hey, hey." And then, as he turned around abruptly— “Oh! So it was you after all.” “Master Lin Chong, it is Li Xiao’er.” “Well… however did you end up in a place like this?”

A man in townsman’s attire rushed over as if pouncing.

“Oh, this is embarrassing. You were once a clerk at a wine shop near my home in Kaifeng, weren’t you?” “I must say, I remain deeply indebted for your kindness during that time. To this day, my wife and I still speak of you fondly.” _Hmm. Did I ever do something to help you?_ “Though it stemmed from youthful folly—when my reckless spending nearly got me reported to the authorities by my master—you saved me then. I’ve yet to repay even the silver you advanced me that day.”

“What’s this now? That’s quite an old story, isn’t it?”

“Well, putting that aside for now—would you honor us with a visit to our humble establishment? After losing face back then, I left my master’s household and drifted from place to place until finally settling in this remote corner of Cangzhou. Now I run a small tavern here. Oh, my wife will surely be astonished too!” Through this chance encounter, Lin Chong began frequenting Li Xiao’er’s tavern whenever he visited town from that day onward. In a back-alley eatery where he managed the kitchen himself with help from his wife and a young servant, Li Xiao’er maintained many connections among the prison jailers. Whenever business brought him to the prison office, he would visit the Heavenly King Hall to check on Lin Chong’s laundry and mending, leaving behind meat buns and other comforts. This kindhearted couple became unexpected yet cherished companions that Lin Chong counted himself fortunate to know.

Then, the year passed, and there came a day.

“T-Terrible news, Master Lin Chong!” “What’s wrong, Li Xiao’er? You’ve gone pale.” Lin Chong, who had been sweeping the area with a broom in hand, hurried into the hall as the man frantically urged him to do so and tightly closed one of the room’s doors from the inside.

When Lin Chong heard that Li Xiao’er had abandoned his shop to bring a warning, he realized this was undoubtedly an omen foretelling no ordinary calamity for him. It had happened around early afternoon that day. Two arrogant visitors had casually strolled into his shop. One was a pale-complexioned, small-built man with a leering grin. The other had a soldier-like build and a ruddy face. Both appeared to be around thirty years old. The moment Li Xiao’er casually uttered, “Welcome…”, he froze in shock. When he thought he recognized a face from the capital, the ruddy-faced one was indeed Lu Qian, deputy officer of General Gao’s household.

Hmm... What is this all about? Having sensed this, he sent his wife out to attend to the guests, took their orders for wine and dishes, and listened while straining his ears through the kitchen window to eavesdrop—and indeed, they spoke in Kaifeng accents, with frequent whispers of “General Gao” and “the Gao household” emerging. That was still manageable. But then,

“Hey, tavernkeeper—we’ve already sent a messenger ahead. Before long, the Prison Warden and Jailer will be arriving here.” “Then don’t let any more customers in.” “We’ll buy out your entire shop—” came his grand proclamation.

Sure enough, before long, the Prison Warden and Jailer arrived. They added more dishes and wine, appearing to drink nonchalantly for a while—but their laughter soon died out, leaving the room abruptly silent. Li Xiao’er prodded his wife’s behind and whispered into her ear. She gave a silent nod before quietly positioning herself at the boundary between kitchen and shop, straining to listen. In the back room, Li Xiao’er kept his gaze fixed. Soon, tremors began coursing through her body from waist to feet... She must have heard something truly horrifying.

The four faces gathered around the table threw back their heads and laughed together. From Lu Qian’s hand, a vast amount of silver was passed to both the Prison Warden and the Jailer. ——And then, having moved on to food and drink, they eventually departed—it had been only moments before, when the setting sun still dyed the town’s roofs crimson——so it was.

Having heard the story up to this point, Lin Chong was also shocked.

“Then, the smirking man with Lu Qian must be Fu An, that rogue entertainer. That guy is said to be a sycophant—the personal lackey of the Gao household’s young master. But for what purpose did those two come all the way to this Cangzhou?” “They came to kill you. When she heard that, my wife got a shiver down her spine and froze up completely.” “So they came here with silver and power to bribe the Prison Warden and Jailer.”

“That must be the case. In any case, this has become a grave situation, sir. You absolutely must take precautions.”

“Ah, it’s fine. In any case, I’ve become a wanted man now. Li Xiao’er—tell your wife not to worry.” However, even after Li Xiao’er had left, he couldn’t shake an inexplicable sense of unease. That night’s dreams were no better.

"Very well. If they’re so hellbent on taking this Lin Chong’s life with such tenacity, then perhaps there’s some amusement to be had in that. This life—I won’t surrender it cheaply." The short spear and sword with crimson tassels he’d secretly procured for emergencies lay hidden beneath Yanwang’s altar. Slipping only the dagger into his robe, he feigned business in town and stepped briskly into the streets. Through Cangzhou’s cramped alleys he stalked, resolved to impale those bastards at first sight—a hunter now turned prey, pursuing shadows that pursued him.

For several days, nothing happened. Not only was there no sign of the enemy's harm, but their figures too remained absent. Strangely, even his honed vigilance began to slacken naturally. Having kept away from Li Xiao'er's tavern for some time, around the tenth day's afternoon he peered inside, "That's odd... Was that all there was?"

When he murmured this, both husband and wife looked relieved,

“Well, that is certainly most fortunate.” “If nothing happens as things are now…” “Well now, why don’t you have a bite?”

“I suppose I will.”

And with that, he took his first drink in ages and returned to the camp before evening.

——Then, due to a summons from the Inspection Office, "Starting tomorrow, you are hereby transferred to the Horse Fodder Depot located fifteen li outside the East Gate of the prison camp. "You are to take up residence in one of the central fodder huts."

This was the workplace reassignment order. That position also seemed to be a lucrative one. The handling of fodder involved many bribes, making it an envied workplace among fellow prisoners.

“Understood.” “I will relocate at once.”

Carrying his meager belongings, he moved beyond the East Gate that very night. At that very moment, the howling roar of the north wind raced through the midwinter darkness, and in the sky, white flecks began to flutter like a demon’s breath.

When he looked, there stretched a long crumbling wall of yellow earth and warped double doors that opened outward from the center. Upon entering, the largest fodder hut at the center appeared to be the watchman’s dwelling with an attached kitchen. From where yellowish cold light leaked out, the old watchman poked his head out at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Ah, so you’re the new fodder watchman,” he said. “During daytime hours, I too received transfer papers to swap places with someone from the Heavenly King Hall.” “My apologies for arriving late,” Lin Chong replied. “I left some tableware and miscellaneous items behind at the Heavenly King Hall—feel free to use them if you wish.”

“I see. Here too, there’s my old sake gourd, pots, chipped bowls and such lying around. If you want ’em, use ’em. Bedding’s over in that corner. Further back there’s a whole mountain o’ charcoal sacks piled up. What with the cold an’ all—they never let the stove fire die out here come winter.”

“Where do I go for supplies?” “Ah yes—if you follow the western thicket path two or three li, there’s a small wine shop and butcher that’ll serve your needs. But mind you—the Horse Fodder Depot’s often targeted by hay thieves. Best stay vigilant about that.” The hut’s caretaker was replaced without ceremony. Unlike the Heavenly King Hall, this was an aged structure with wooden-shingle roofing. The cold bit mercilessly. Now he understood—the massive stove and piled charcoal sacks drew a nod of comprehension. Perhaps unaccustomed to the place, that first night left him shivering too violently for proper sleep.

When day broke, outside lay heavy snow. Moreover, there showed no sign of it ceasing all day. Lin Chong felt boredom creep upon him.

Then evening came. Patrolmen who appeared to be subordinates of the jailer peered into the hut through gaps in the wall. The sound of their footsteps was immediately swallowed by the blizzard’s roar, and the hut’s light soon returned to its original stillness. Ah, if only there were some wine stocked up for times like this—he might find a little enjoyment. By the dreary stove, he found himself repeatedly longing for Li Xiao’er’s tavern. But the town was too far... When he suddenly looked at the wall, there hung an elegantly shaped sake gourd.

"Oh right—if I go two or three li down the western bush path, there’s supposed to be a liquor store," he thought. "Well, I’ll make a quick run there and back." He tied the gourd to the tip of a short spear adorned with a crimson tassel, put on a felt-lined hat and straw raincoat, then swung open the door into the blizzard and stepped outside. But seeming concerned, he went back inside again, thickly covered the stove fire with ash, extinguished the lamp, and peered up into the dimly lit rafters.

“First, if I do it like this, there should be no mistake.” Muttering to himself, he locked the hut and left.

A demonic white night unique to the continent.

The accumulated snow buried footwear deep; the north wind scoured the earth sideways—not even a hand’s breadth ahead remained visible. Breath caught, and snowflakes froze to eyelashes.

“Hmm, what old temple is this?”

Having come about half a li, he suddenly rested by the roadside. Whether it was a roadside deity shrine or some other temple he couldn't tell, but perhaps a touch of Buddhist compassion had awakened in Lin Chong's heart. He pressed his forehead to the snow, "Is this the karma of a past life? Though Lin Chong recalls no crime, he has been exiled to this prison land and reduced to such a living, wretched corpse," he murmured. "I beseech you, grant your divine protection. And watch over my wife in the distant capital." With that silent prayer, he resumed walking.

After finally reaching a liquor store in a small hamlet and downing a cup of wine, he filled his gourd with more drink, tucked a package of roasted meat into his robe, and set off on his return journey—by then, night had deepened. The snow grew increasingly fierce, the wind fought against his steps, his entire body now a figure amidst swirling snow as he pressed down the hat brim and raced back to the Horse Fodder Depot. Then, without conscious thought, he kicked open the familiar double doors and stepped inside—only to find that while all the other fodder huts remained intact, his own sleeping quarters had been utterly crushed under the snow's weight, completely flattened.

"Ah! This was bad. '...This way he couldn't even cook rice or find a place to sleep.' This was what it meant to be at a loss."

"If I stay like this, even my very self will be buried in the snow." "Right - I'll sleep in that old temple tonight and figure things out once day breaks."

Peeling back part of the wooden roof, he pulled out only the futon from where he remembered it, shouldered it, and returned to the old temple along the village path. The temple's interior was surprisingly spacious. When he glanced over, there were enshrined a fearsome martial deity statue clad in golden armor and two small demons. On the altar were scattered offerings, remnants of candles, and numerous scraps of colored paper. He spread the bedding before it, Ah, you never know what lies even an inch ahead. Ended up spending the night in a strange place, huh. But well, having wine in the gourd is the greatest happiness.

He promptly unwrapped the package of roasted meat to use as a side dish and drank chilled wine straight from the gourd's mouth.

Ah，he had gotten nicely drunk. If only he could sleep soundly now... Thud—he lay down sideways，using his arm as a pillow，but it still didn't work. Snowwater seeped damply through his white cotton clothes and undergarments. Not only that—somewhere far off，a strange crackling sound reached his ears through the snow-laden wind. That too clung to his ears，and sleep wouldn't come. "Huh? It's strangely bright." "It's strangely bright!"

Startled, he jumped to his feet. Through the cracks in the temple's broken wall, he could see a red night sky.

"Damn it! "It's toward the fodder depot!" In his mind, he immediately attributed the cause to the fire in the hut's stove. The fodder hut wasn't the only one. In an instant, the entire Horse Fodder Depot could become a sea of flames.

"Oh, I can’t stay like this!" He took up the vermilion-tasseled spear propped by his pillow and was about to rush toward the flames when he froze mid-step. Voices murmured right before the temple. Though not intentionally listening, he instinctively focused his hearing. "Well done, Warden." "...Ah, you’ve done well too, Jailer." "With this, Lin Chong must’ve been nicely roasted to a charred crisp." The voice carried a familiar capital accent. This could only be Lu Qian—Deputy of General Gao’s household.

Those responding were unmistakably the Warden and the Jailer. The other person was likely Fu An, Lu Qian’s companion; while gazing at the distant inferno together, he kept guffawing incessantly.

“Truly, this was a great achievement by Mr. Warden and Mr. Jailer.” “Taking advantage of this heavy snow, I ordered subordinates to catch Lin Chong in his sleep and had them remove the hut’s rotten pillars all at once—truly masterful work, I must say.” “With the heavy snow adding its weight, he must have been crushed by the roof beam in his sleep and met his end—no doubt about it.” “For Lin Chong, well—it’s not too bad an end, wouldn’t you say?”

“No, no—we didn’t think that alone would suffice. So on our way here, we two threw about ten torches onto that collapsed roof as well.” “With this, there’s not even a one-in-ten-thousand chance that bastard will survive.” “Truly, Warden.” “Such thoroughness.”

Lu Qian’s voice, effusively praising, continued.

“With this, we have splendidly accomplished our master’s mission and can return to the capital with honor.” “Once we return to the capital, the Gao family will surely bestow generous rewards upon you all. Now then—”

“Please take your leave now.”

“Hmm, it would be unwise for both parties to be seen here.” “Let’s return to the inn and depart at dawn.” “Fu An, shall we depart?”

In the instant they were about to part ways and leave.

Lin Chong kicked open the temple door from inside,

“Wait, you bastards!” Without warning, he hooked the nearby Jailer with his short spear’s tip and—with a swish—sent him flying amid a spray of black blood. “Wh-wh-what?! You...?” “Lost your nerve? Lin Chong stands before you. Lin Chong is here.”

“Gyaaa!” “H-help me!” “Help me!” “You coward! What nonsense are you spouting?” Lin Chong’s leopard-like brows had already regained their true ferocity. Crouching low like a leopard, he stabbed Fu An with one flash of his short spear, then skewered the Warden’s hulking frame in an instant before turning toward Lu Qian’s shadow fleeing through the snow. “Traitor! Where do you think you’re fleeing?” With a whizzing sound, he hurled his spear like a war arrow. The weapon pierced the distant back with an eerie shriek, its vivid crimson bursting forth to stain the night-darkened snow in a wide arc.

Ah, I've finally killed four military officials. Under the Song dynasty, I have now become a criminal with nowhere to hide— Lin Chong shuddered at his own realization, then whirled around to prostrate himself before the temple, repeatedly praying to the martial deity's statue as he murmured alone. If the fodder hut had not collapsed earlier in the evening, this Lin Chong might have been crushed beneath its beams and burned to death according to their evil scheme. That I survived must surely be by the divine will of this temple. This is truly heaven's aid. Grant that I may be protected henceforth.

And then, grasping Zhufang’s short spear once more, he kicked up the snow and vanished from the spot before the night had fully dawned. The flames of the Horse Fodder Depot also seemed to have soon died down due to the accumulated snow. However, for a time, due to the furious clanging of alarm boards and bells from the prison, even in the nearby villages, everyone had been roused and was on high alert during this extraordinary night watch.

Therefore, Lin Chong found all escape routes completely blocked. Darting about like a cornered rat, he finally gave up and, upon spotting a large bonfire at the highway entrance, pushed his way into the group gathered there. “Brr, it’s freezing. Excuse me, but may I warm myself here a little? You’ve all had quite the ordeal.”

“Come warm yourself,” said the forty or fifty villagers as they casually made space, then— “Wait, you’re not from this village. That tattoo on your face—!” “Official business from the prison camp,” Lin Chong replied. “Prison envoy or not—back off! Your clothes are drenched in blood!” “This? Just stains from slaughtering cattle.” He forced a chuckle. “Last night’s banquet at the Warden and Jailer’s residence—they ordered me to butcher livestock for their guests.”

“Is that so?” “For someone who was just slaughtering cattle, this looks awfully fresh.” The large group of villagers all exchanged uneasy looks, but since they were accustomed to the savagery of exiled convicts they witnessed daily, they asked nothing further... Moreover, Lin Chong had secretly begun to grow wary of this precarious situation when he suddenly noticed several opened wine bottles near the large bonfire—ones the villagers had been drinking from to ward off the cold. At the sight of it, he could do nothing but. “Excuse me, but could you spare me a cup of that?”

—However, everyone remained silent. They uttered neither a word nor a sound.

Lin Chong muttered "Bah, troublesome," and grabbed a nearby cup on his own, downing two or three drinks. However, during this time, those who had come running from the old temple were exchanging furtive whispers at the rear. They soon approached Lin Chong. "You must be dying for a drink," they said. "Come now—this is the time for it. Drink your fill and be off." This time they began pressing him insistently. He had nearly set down the wine bowl at this point, but Lin Chong ultimately took it up again. In moments he drained half the jar, then attempted to rise while offering thanks—at which instant a man across the fire suddenly threw a casting net over Lin Chong's head.

“Got him!” In that instant, a rain of blows from clubs, hooked staves, fireman’s hooks, barbed forks—every manner of weapon—came crashing down upon him. Then, as if hauling a wild boar’s carcass, they carried him into the village’s rice-drying ground, “This guy’s probably no ordinary bastard.” “At dawn, report him to the Lord Warden’s office.” “He might just be worth a reward!” they buzzed with excitement, stirring up a clamor.

Before long, the village chief came rushing over,

“This is dire, everyone! A retainer from Master Chai’s estate just came rushing over—they say the man we caught is someone Master Chai himself, that great patron of warriors, once sheltered! The Chai household will send men to collect him any moment now!” “What? He’s connected to Master Chai?” “We’ve made a terrible mistake!” “Now, now—no one’s blaming you.” “But not a word of this leaves the village! Anyone who talks gets banished—that’s an order.” “My position as chief would be forfeit too.” “I’m counting on you all.” “Stay completely mute about this to the prison camp.”

—Now.

As seven, then ten days passed after that night’s commotion, there came a time when even the rumors had died down.

In a secluded chamber of the estate belonging to the village notable—the very Little Whirlwind Chai Jin—it was none other than Leopard Head Lin Chong who stood before his host Chai Jin, expressing heartfelt gratitude for his profound kindness and delivering words of farewell.

That night. That he had been helped into the Chai household and received various treatments was something he had no memory of at the time; he had been informed of it all the following day. Here there were dozens of burly strongmen and many retainers. Thus simultaneously with news of the Horse Fodder Depot fire reaching Chai Jin’s ears came word of violence before the old temple—and no sooner had Chai Jin learned this than: “So when harm came for Instructor Lin,” he deduced aloud yet to himself alone by lamplight’s edge where none could hear save shadows on paper walls, “the capital’s assassins found themselves reversed—warden slain, jailer gutted, all pierced through for his sake.” Long had those two officials festered with ill repute. Their deaths bore Heaven’s judgment plain as blood on snow. Yet greater pity clung to Lin Chong’s shoulders, exile-branded brow pressed low before fate’s wheel. “I will not suffer this man abandoned,” came resolution firm as temple bell through midnight frost, though none stood near to mark its tolling.

And so, he immediately ordered his men to split up, and as a result, they swiftly brought him into the estate. Now, Chai Jin—seeing that Lin Chong had fully recovered—spoke with an air of great satisfaction yet apparent reluctance to part: “If it were possible, I would have you stay long in my home, but such is no longer feasible now.” “That said, since that incident, the prison camp office has set up checkpoints at all four main roadways—inspections so strict not even an ant could slip through.” “But leave it to me—for now, please escape to Shandong.” “The plan rests within this Chai Jin’s heart.”

“This kindness surpassing even blood ties—I shall never forget it through all my days. This latter half of life that should have ended—whatever may come, I place myself entirely under your direction.” “Then take this prepared letter of introduction. Journey to Mount Liang Marsh in Shandong and bide your time until the season turns favorable.”

“Huh… So this is Mount Liang Marsh.” “Are you still unaware? —In Shandong, along the river of Jizhou, there lies a watery region where three men have built their stronghold amidst eight hundred li of reeds. —Their leader is called Wang Lun, and beneath him are Song Wan and Du Xuan—each a man of exceptional prowess.” “They command seven or eight hundred subordinates—all outcasts rejected by society.” “Furthermore, I have heard that under the Song dynasty’s rule, those with nowhere else to go have gradually sought refuge there—a naturally formed haven for those who dwell in shadows, so to speak… As for those three leaders, I am well acquainted with them.” “If you were to go there, they would not treat you with discourtesy.”

“That would be a most welcome refuge.” “I would dearly wish to go there—but how could I possibly slip through Cangzhou’s checkpoints?” “Set your mind at ease.” “All arrangements have already been made this day—I myself shall escort you part of the way.” “Now—prepare yourself.” Urged onward, he changed into the garments provided by the Chai household and secured the parting silver and traveling implements against his person. Chai Jin himself emerged before the gate astride his horse, clad in hunting attire rendered particularly resplendent for the occasion. There awaited several dozen retainers and guests bearing banners, hawks perched upon their arms, hounds in leash, with spears and beater staffs at the ready—all arrayed in full formation.

Lin Chong had been skillfully disguised as one among their company. Thus proceeding boldly along Cangzhou's outer streets, they frequently saw wanted posters of Lin Chong plastered on earthen roadside walls, while at every crossroads arrest warrants for "Prisoner Lin" stood conspicuously visible everywhere.

“Did you see them?” When Chai Jin looked back at Lin Chong from horseback and laughed, Lin Chong responded with a silent grin. Soon came into view the palisade gate of the new eastern checkpoint and its guardhouse. As the party clattered briskly toward it with quickened steps, “Halt! Halt!” the checkpoint guards came swarming out, “Ah! If it isn’t Master Chai of the illustrious household! Out hunting again today?”

Suddenly changing their attitude, they began to flatter obsequiously. Chai Jin also wore a beaming expression.

“Ah, gentlemen of the prison camp soldiers. You’ve had quite the ordeal these past days, haven’t you? Haven’t you caught that wanted man yet?” “We ain’t got a single lead. The ones suffering hardships are us—stationed day and night at the guardhouse, we haven’t even seen the town’s lights around here lately.” “I’m sure. But on my way back this evening, I’ll leave you plenty of boar meat and birds as gifts. I’ll have some alcohol delivered as well.” “Now that’s something to look forward to! Please do, Master!”

“Understood.” “But duty remains duty.” “At least inspect each member of my retinue one by one.” “You who know the prohibitions so well, Master.” “There’s no need for such formalities.” “Now please proceed through.” “But what if—by some chance—a wanted man had slipped into my company?”

“Wahahaha! You must be joking!” “Hahaha. Well then, excuse us—” The company numbered over thirty people. And so, they had managed to slip right through like this. Needless to say, after traveling some ten li, Lin Chong alone changed his path and parted from their midst. Afterward, his journey hastened through mountains and wilderness for over twenty days, until one day when a biting north wind cut through his skin and snow threatened to fall, he arrived at a riverside where nothing but reeds and withered rushes stretched as far as the eye could see across the bleak expanse.

At the waterside of what appeared to be a ferry landing stood a teahouse flying the flag of a wine shop. While having a drink there, Lin Chong found himself scrutinized by the eccentric teahouse owner's piercing gaze.

“Traveler,” “So where in Shandong are you planning to head next?” “That’s exactly what I wanted to ask you.” “Proprietor, where does the ferry here go?” “This here ain’t no ferry landing.” “Only the occasional boat that goes out fishing docks here.”

"In that case, I can't very well have you ferry me to Mount Liang Marsh." Hmm, this is troublesome.

“Do you intend to go to Mount Liang Marsh?” “That’s right.” “Hmm…?” The old man’s eyes grew increasingly suspicious. “Don’t know where you heard it, but since you’re saying ‘Mount Liang Marsh,’ you’re either an informant for the authorities or got some other scheme in mind. Once you cross over there, you won’t be coming back in one piece.” “I understand that part. Actually, Proprietor—I’m someone who’s come with this cover letter addressed to the chief of Mount Liang Marsh…” He showed Chai Jin’s letter. The old man intently compared the address on it with his appearance, then suddenly altered his demeanor and began to speak.

“Ah, my mistake, sir. There’s no mistaking Master Chai of Cangzhou’s handwriting. I must offer my deepest apologies for such rudeness. Very well—I’ll summon a boat to fetch you immediately. Please have another drink there to ward off the cold while you wait.”

Who exactly was this teahouse owner? This man too was undoubtedly one of their underlings, serving as the eyes and ears of Mount Liang Marsh in Shandong while maintaining a makeshift livelihood here. No sooner had he hidden in the back of the hut than he reappeared holding a bow, nocked a large whistling arrow, and with a twang released the string toward the distant reeds and rushes across the vast water surface. The arrow's whine echoed over the water, trailing a long tail, and just as a flock of wild geese burst into flight where it had gone, a swift boat soon came into view, cutting through the waves of reeds and rushes as it rowed toward them.

The outlaws' stronghold of Mount Liang Marsh. As for a ronin selling a hair-splitting sword in the streets—

Mount Liang Marsh's exact perimeter stretched beyond hundreds of li in every direction, being reputed at that time to span eight hundred Chinese li. On tempestuous days it was terrifying, but under clear skies—with white clouds encircling mountains, primeval forests stretching endlessly, and vistas ranging from boundless reed-covered islets to rush-lined shores—the scenery resembled a reed-and-rush landscape painting from the Tang dynasty. Yet here gathered hundreds whom the Song dynasty's world could not contain—rebels against authority and malcontents of every stripe—who over time built their mountain stronghold. Openly defying the government of their age, they proclaimed themselves righteous bandits and harassed travelers both on water and land. Even government troops that had repeatedly tried to crush them—none, it was said, ever returned alive—such was the scale of this immense "floating nest of lawless territory."

"Ah... So this is how it is." That day, Lin Chong—carried across on the swift boat summoned by Zhu Gui (the teahouse owner who was in truth a member of the mountain stronghold)—disembarked at Jinsha Tan on the opposite shore. As he advanced further, he could only marvel at the impenetrable fortress. The gaps between reeds and rushes formed a labyrinthine waterway, while the land routes resembled passage through a maze. Like the River of Souls' desolate shore, the bleak waterside—with its countless cave mouths, valley trails, and thick woods—soon stripped away all sense of bearing.

And so, when he reached the Duanjin Pavilion on the mountainside, there he met Chief Wang Lun.

Wang Lun had originally been a serious scholar in the capital who diligently prepared for the imperial examinations. However, after witnessing officialdom's corruption and learning the world's duplicity, his studies came to seem foolish, leading him to fail the exams. Consequently, he abandoned himself to reckless wandering until finally arriving at Mount Liang Marsh. There he gained companions like Song Wan, Du Xuan, and Zhu Gui, and in time was elevated to leader of seven to eight hundred men. “Ah! So you’re Panther Head Lin Chong—the one who brought Master Chai Jin’s letter from Cangzhou.” “Well, take a seat.”

"Is this Lord Wang Lun?" "This unworthy one is Lin Chong, formerly an instructor of the Imperial Guard—a man with no place between heaven and earth to shelter his body." "Might you permit this one to remain here?" "Your circumstances are thoroughly described in Master Chai Jin's accompanying letter." "Having received favors from that nobleman before, I would gladly say 'We shall accept you without hesitation'—but in truth..." Wang Lun spoke while stealing glances at Song Wan and Du Xuan flanking him,

“...To speak frankly, even now our Mount Liang Marsh shelters seven or eight hundred men, so provisions perpetually run scarce.” “Though it pains me to say this, please accept these ten silver taels for your journeying needs.” “Might you seek elsewhere to determine your path forward?”

Lin Chong indignantly refused. “Though you went to the trouble, I did not come here to beg.” “Then return Master Chai’s letter to me.” “I shall take my leave.”

At this, Song Wan and Du Xuan, the two men, hurriedly stopped him and began persuading Wang Lun on the other side.

“Chief! That manner of handling seems somewhat questionable. First, it would bring shame upon Master Chai’s honor. Second, people will say those of Mount Liang Marsh are ungrateful wretches who know nothing of righteousness. Our fellowship exists through gratitude and justice. Can you accept that?” “But we cannot permit just anyone to join our mountain stronghold’s fellowship. There remains the risk of unforeseen consequences.” “That is mere pretext! If you harbor doubts, have them swear the fellowship’s oath—that should suffice.”

“An oath.” “Hmm... Very well then, let us test him.” “Lin Chong—I won’t demand written vows.” “Instead—can you fulfill this Wang Lun’s command within three days?” “Any task you set—if you grant me shelter here.”

“Very well.” “Then leave Mount Liang Marsh once more—lurk on Shandong road across the shore—bring back one human head within three days and show it here!” “And mark this—no peasant’s or fisherman’s head will do!” “It must be an official’s or proper warrior’s head!”

“Understood.”

At night within Wanzi Castle of the mountain stronghold, he found himself enveloped in a welcoming banquet as an honored guest. Yet even amidst this feast, Wang Lun's demeanor retained an air of aloofness. Observing the man's character, Lin Chong thought, "...Hah... This one appears consumed by jealousy and pettiness." Without doubt, he feared that keeping someone of Lin Chong's background here might lead to his own position as chief being usurped someday. "I've no wish to linger beneath such a small-minded man," Lin Chong mused, wrapping himself in an expression of grim resolve, "yet this self truly has no other refuge under heaven..." Thus did he steel himself to fulfill the three-day pact.

The next day, he prepared himself, hoisted a single naginata-style field sword, had a foot soldier row him across in a boat, and reached the Shandong-Jizhou Road. On the first day, he encountered no one. The second day broke clear after snowfall. "Today for certain..." he thought, lurking by roadsides and creeping through woods—but all he found were impoverished fishermen trudging home at dusk and a peasant couple with children in tow. "The allotted days now have but one remaining."

Fatigue and frustration had turned Lin Chong’s eyes completely feral. Then, a little past noon, a lone traveler caught his eye—a figure descending toward him along a steep thicketed mountain path, shouldering a large travel bundle. Without even clearly identifying his target, he rushed forward to stand before the man’s eyes—"This is it!"

“Halt, traveler!” He planted the stone-weighted end of his naginata-style field sword into the ground with a thud to demonstrate his intent. Then, the man, utterly astonished, abandoned his luggage right there and,

“H-h...k-killer!”

and scrambled blindly toward the valley floor. Both his scream and fleeing manner marked him as neither official nor warrior. Lin Chong was disappointed, Tch. And now only one day remained of the three. "...Hah... It seems I'm truly a man of wretched luck." Then as he absently gazed at the luggage abandoned on the road, a gust of killing intent suddenly swept across his profile from nowhere.

Startled, he turned around and—

“Bandit! Do you intend to pick up that luggage and throw your life away?” Mixing wrath and mockery, the voice itself was already blade-like. When he looked, could this be the master of the porter who had fled earlier?

He was a robust man around thirty years old, his face covered in blue birthmarks and sporting a wildly grown red mottled beard, a tasseled Fanyang hat slung over his back, and a travel robe of indeterminate base color. He wore striped short hakama trousers in white and blue, had thrust his feet deep into cowhide fur boots, and at his waist lay a magnificent single blade that appeared to be a masterwork sword. “Ahahaha!” The man laughed upon seeing Lin Chong stiffen—

“You cling to life yet crave the luggage? Listen well, bandit! Shoulder that load in the porter’s stead and escort me to the nearest town, and I might deign to let you taste wine—such mercy exists even for vermin! Choose swiftly—your skull or service?”

"Hmm... Judging by appearances, you're no mere common townsfolk." "You’re a warrior, aren’t you?" "Ah, though I may now wander adrift, until yesterday I stood as a warrior among warriors—a descendant of Yang Linggong, one of the Five Marquises, ranked among Emperor Huizong's own banner guards." "What say you to that?" "Very well! I'll claim that head!" "What?! "Don’t mock me!"

Almost simultaneously. Between the two men resembling twin dragons spewing white light, clanging sparks scattered. Yet despite Yang Zhi's longsword and Lin Chong's naginata clashing through dozens of exchanges - each unleashing their secret techniques - neither managed to cut so much as a single hair from the other. It became a battle of locked hilts; both breathing roughly, their sideburns drenched in sweat.

Then, from a slightly elevated spot, a voice suddenly called out.

“Ah, hold there! Lin Chong’s three-day deadline stands fulfilled. Traveling warrior—you too must sheathe your blade.” When he looked to see who had spoken, there stood Wang Lun—the White-Clad Scholar—accompanied by Du Xuan, Song Wan, and several dozen Mount Liang Marsh subordinates who had discreetly come to observe how Lin Chong fared with his expired ultimatum. “Hero, you must grace our stronghold this evening. There I shall offer proper apologies and learn more of your circumstances.”

And so they brought him to Mount Liang Marsh's stronghold, to the Assembly Hall, and that night held a grand banquet. In Wang Lun's view, keeping Lin Chong alone posed a threat to his own position, but by placing another counterpart of equal caliber under his command, a natural balance of mutual restraint would form—making them easier to control—thus securing his future stability. This was the calculation he had swiftly made.

And, pressing wine repeatedly while lowering his courtesy, “How about it? I’ve heard of your wandering circumstances—would you not consider settling here and fully enjoying the life of a man?” He subtly tried to sound him out. “Ah, I deeply appreciate your kindness, but in truth, I still have a residence and family remaining in the capital of Kaifeng. I must return there at least once." “As for why I find myself in such a wandering state… it is truly a shameful circumstance.”

He drained his cup in one go, a self-deprecating smile surfacing on his face. His face, resembling a blue birthmark, grew all the bluer the more he drank. “Our family has served for generations as banner guards of the Song Dynasty, holding positions as Palace Commanders and also as officers directly under His Excellency General Gao’s personal guard corps. …Then last year, when Emperor Huizong undertook the construction of gardens at his detached palace on Wansui Mountain, he dispatched ten officials to West Lake to transport a great quantity of its famed stones to the capital.”

“I see...” “I too was once one of the Palace Commanders. We loaded a large ship with rare specimens from West Lake’s flowers, trees, bamboo, and stones and sailed down the Yellow River—only to meet with wretched luck and encounter a fierce storm along the way. In the end, we couldn’t fulfill our duty. Ashamed, I hid away in the countryside until finally this pardon was issued…” “Ah, I understand.” “So you were returning to the capital?” “Exactly—I thought I must return to the capital, resume my former post, and restore my family’s honor to appease my ancestors… So I loaded my luggage with bribes for high-ranking officials and came this far, only to be suddenly attacked by this ‘Lin Chong’ fellow here! Nearly offered up my one and only head as tribute! Hahaha!”

Hearing this, Lin Chong also spoke up for the first time. "I have been remiss in introducing myself earlier, but I am Lin Chong, the Leopard Head, who once served under General Gao Qiu of the Imperial Guards as an instructor in the Imperial Guard." "As I listen more closely, it seems you and I were once colleagues of a sort. Could it be that you are Lord Yang Zhi, nicknamed 'Blue-Faced Beast'?" "Ah, indeed, I am that Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi, but how is it that someone addressed as Instructor Lin comes to be in such a place?"

“Well. Please look at this tattoo...” Lin Chong pointed to the mark on his own forehead, smiling bitterly as he recounted in detail how he had been exiled from the capital to Cangzhou’s penal colony, then escaped that hellish labor camp to eventually end up here—

“I won’t mince words. As my own example demonstrates—General Gao Qiu proves an unreliable sycophant, and with every military officer, official, and member of Emperor Huizong’s court wallowing in corruption these days, even should you return to the capital, you’d find no lasting peace there.” Lin Chong leaned forward, his tattooed forehead glistening. “Why not instead heed Chief Wang Lun’s counsel? Join us in this sanctuary where men might live fully through shared righteousness.”

"I must admit my heart is somewhat drawn to this, but as I stated earlier..." "Well then—if you insist upon that course—I shall not press you to stay."

Wang Lun had also relented, but “...Then tonight, let us celebrate with full revelry for the future of Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi. Though another day would suffice. In Mount Liang Marsh’s separate realm, remember that men such as these have gathered to resist the Song Dynasty’s corruption and live by this code. And should the time come when you might lend us your strength, that would bring us great joy.” “The flow of a single river, the bond of a single tree.” “That goes without saying.”

The next morning as well, Yang Zhi received parting gifts from the mountain stronghold and a grand send-off from Wang Lun and the others, then departed Mount Liang Marsh while waving from aboard a boat.

And now, our tale shifts its course alongside the journey of Yang Zhi—the tall, blue-faced stalwart—toward Kaifeng’s Eastern Capital. Having relocated to the capital, Yang Zhi promptly unpacked the belongings he had brought back and lavishly spent all manner of valuables—jewels collected from the provinces, famous inkstones, gold and silver crafts—as bribes for high-ranking officials. And finally, with the prospect of reinstatement now in sight, he had reached the point where all that remained was for the highest official of the Palace Command—Commander-in-Chief Gao—to affix his seal to the documents...

“First,” he thought, “with this I have restored my family’s honor without incident.” And so he waited out that hopeful day.

Several days later, a summons arrived from the Palace Command: "―Appear before us."

As it was a clear day, he had taken particular care to dress neatly and modestly. While waiting in attendance within a chamber of the government office, Commander-in-Chief Gao Qiu of the Imperial Guards appeared by parting the drapery. No sooner had he leaned back into his chair than he declared arrogantly: “So you are Yang Zhi?” “Yes, this one is Yang Zhi, formerly one of the ten Palace Commanders.”

“How dare you show your face here? Having reviewed your records and petition—you, born into a house that received generations of the Song family’s profound favor—last year, when entrusted with the Emperor’s decree to transport West Lake stones, not only wrecked your ship en route but vanished without surrendering yourself, hiding like a lawless wretch until this very day—is this not so?” “Ah, but the circumstances are exactly as I meticulously detailed in my petition. Moreover, having heard of the pardon’s issuance, I came to the capital to humbly entreat Your Excellency’s magnanimity.”

“You fool. Shut up!” “The pardon decree was not issued for your sake.” “Among the ten Palace Commanders, most have fulfilled their duties, but as there are still two or three who returned to West Lake to await punishment, the pardon was issued solely for them.” “As for one such as you—a transgressor who fled the scene and has persisted until this day—reinstatement shall not be permitted.” “An outrageous request.” “Now get out of my sight!” Yang Zhi became despondent. Crushed by despair, he continued to harbor smoldering resentment alone.

"...Now Lin Chong’s words came back to him." "I returned clinging to dreams of the capital—unable to bear defiling my ancestral family name or this body that serves as my parents’ memento—even refusing Wang Lun’s attempts to detain me... Ah, after all, this capital where Gao Qiu wields power is no place for one such as I to dwell."

There was nothing for him to do now, nor did he have the will to seek other employment. Already, for his reinstatement efforts and bribes, he had sold everything he could sell and had been driven into such dire straits that even tomorrow’s meals were a concern. “Right—here remains only a single renowned blade passed down from my ancestors,” he thought. “I’ll sell this, distribute the proceeds to my elderly kin and children, use what’s left as travel funds, and go to some distant province to figure out how to make my way.”

That day.

He took out a sword, hung a straw sale tag on it, and stood at the crossroads of Maxing Street. However, no one would even inquire about the price. Thereupon, Yang Zhi relocated to the lively approach of Tianhanzhou Bridge from mid-afternoon onwards, “This is a renowned blade for sale.” “This peerless blade!” “I wish to pass this on to someone with discerning eyes.” he called out to passersby. Then, a large man with exposed chest hair stomped closer to him. A foul odor—a mix of alcohol and grease—assaulted his nostrils. Upon seeing that, the passersby immediately,

“Look! The Hairless Tiger’s charging at the sword seller!” “Niu Er the Hairless Tiger’s gonna stir up trouble again, ain’t he?” As they whispered among themselves, the area had already grown crowded with onlookers.

Just as expected. Niu Er—the so-called Hairless Tiger, scourge of the streets—right from the outset began underestimating Yang Zhi and pestering him. "What. Three thousand guan for this old blade? ...Hey hey, quit tryin' to blind people with your lies! Enough already!" "Hahaha. You're drunk. I never asked you to buy it. Step aside. Come now, let me through." "That's none o' your damn business! You sayin' I can't afford it?" "This grows tiresome. This blade is my family's treasure—parting with it feels like abandoning a child. I won't let it become your plaything."

“Alright, I’ll buy it! If you’re gonna look down on me like that, I ain’t backing down! I gotta buy it. But hey, you—this ain’t some dull blade, is it?” “You’re persistent. I keep telling you I won’t sell it to you.” “Don’t fuck around! You hung a straw sale tag on your merchandise! Come on, I’ll buy it—show me how sharp it is! Or you chickening out now? ...So you’re just a fraud!” “I can’t let this fraud accusation stand before all these people.”

“Exactly! Even a thirty-wen blade can at least slice through tofu or lotus roots! If this three-thousand-guan treasure blade’s so damn special, what’s it supposed to cut then?” “Hear this: Slice through copper or iron, and not a single nick will mar its edge.”

“Hmph.” “Is that all?” “If you blow a hair against it, the blade will slice through—this I call the Hair-Cutting Sword.” “Fancy words you’re spoutin’.” “If it can’t cut through a livin’ man, then it ain’t worth piss!” “When used to cut, this blade’s steel retains no bloodstains—such is its forging.” “That explanation should suffice.” “Now step aside.” “Nah, that’s rich.” “Then try cuttin’ this!”

Niu Er stacked a handful of copper coins on the railing of Zhou Bridge like a pagoda.

“Hey, you fraud over there! Come here and try cutting through these coins clean! If you cut ’em through, I’ll give you three thousand guan—but if you can’t, you ain’t leavin’ here in one piece!” The crowd surged back to form a ring. The city’s notorious vermin and the sword peddler’s grandiose claims. The street’s throng swelled to a fever pitch, breath held for what might unfold.

“...Very well—I shall demonstrate.”

Yang Zhi finally approached the railing. He stared fixedly at a single point on the coins for a long moment—without showing any movement to draw his blade. Was this the split-second precision they spoke of? Several coins split in two flew off to both sides of the blade, yet not a single mark was left on the railing. “They’re split! They’ve really been split!” “They’ve really been split!”

Ignoring the roaring cheers of the spectators, Hairless Tiger remained relentless. Suddenly yanking out a handful of his own sideburns, "Hey, wait up, wandering warrior! Such tricks are just street performer stuff. Now try cutting this exactly as I say!"

Finally, pressing his advantage, he barked out his challenge. “Hey now! Focus your spirit and watch closely!”

Yang Zhi received them in his left hand. And then, facing the gleaming blade of the treasured sword, he blew a gentle breath upon the hairs in his palm— "Oh, splendid..." The spectators were entranced for an instant—for when they looked, the hairs caught by Yang Zhi's breath, as if drawn into the sword's very essence, left his palm to trace a dance of dancing strands before fluttering down, each cleanly split in two. Hairless Tiger, who had been glaring intently,

“Shut up, you spectators! This ain’t over yet—I’m still not beat! Thirdly—you must’ve boasted that even if you cut someone down, the blade’s surface ain’t gonna retain no trace of blood! Now then, wandering warrior—show us proof!” “I will show you. Bring a dog here.” “What the hell are you gonna do with a dog?” “I cannot cut down a person without reason.”

“I figured you’d say something like that.” “A fraud’s excuses are always the same.” “If you can’t do it, then admit you can’t and apologize to the spectators!” “I will not sell this blade to you.” “Let us settle it here.” “Nay, that won’t do!” declared Hairless Tiger, seizing Yang Zhi’s wrist. “This sword—I will claim.” “In accordance with my promise to buyers—I shall now prove this blade leaves no bloodstain when cutting through flesh!” “If you’re so insistent, then show the coin!”

“I don’t have the money now, but there’s such a thing as deferred payment. In any case, I’ll first demonstrate this blade’s true worth by cutting down a living person! Or will you grovel on all fours and apologize?” Yang Zhi, most thoroughly tried by this point, seemed to have finally snapped the thread of his forbearance there. However, though his bluish face showed a touch of ferocity, his words remained calm. “...Now then, witnesses.”

he said to the spectators. “As you can see, this ruffian has been finding various faults with me since earlier, and no matter how I try to reason with him, it comes to no resolution." "On top of that, he insists I must cut down a living person to demonstrate—but truly, what should one do in such circumstances?"

Then, from the crowd of spectators, a heckler—

“Cut him down!” “Cut him down!” “Show that Hairless Tiger how sharp your blade bites!”

“If that bastard’s gone, first off, the town’ll brighten up. Even if some folks’d be glad, ain’t a soul who’d mourn ’im.”

“Wandering warrior, I beg you—do it!” A clamorous uproar rose from all directions—a hail of voices. Hearing this, he could no longer contain himself. Hairless Tiger bared his true nature even further and raged. Suddenly, he thrust forcefully into Yang Zhi’s chest with a thud and seemed poised to seize the treasured sword in his hand—but his upper body was already flailing through the air. But that vision lasted only an instant. To the spectators’ eyes, a spray of blood mist burst open there as if a giant flower had bloomed.

"Aaaaah…" "He did it!" They had thought it impossible. The crowd's voices—resembling groans—were filled with shuddering dread. At Yang Zhi's feet already lay Hairless Tiger's massive body, split cleanly in two and utterly motionless. And indeed, upon the long sword he held vertically aloft, there remained not a single trace of bloodstain.

“Citizens of the town.” He maintained his posture and addressed the crowd. “Please quiet down. I will not cause you any trouble. As you have all witnessed, I have now killed a man in broad daylight upon this main road of Tianhanzhou Bridge. There can be no escape from legal punishment. You yourselves are living witnesses. I shall now surrender myself at the magistrate’s office. Kindly clear the path and let me pass.”

His attitude was admirable. The crowd seemed moved even by that. Word spread, and before the magistrate’s office he had entered, commoners gathered in a crowd—

“Hairless Tiger is the one at fault! Niu Er has always made the townspeople weep—he’s never done a single decent thing! Please help the sword seller!” they cried out in unison. From that day onward, petitions came daily—gifts were sent, donations collected for Yang Zhi’s sake—every manner of campaign to spare his life continued through the efforts of the town’s concerned citizens. By the end of the sixty-day detention period, his punishment had been nearly settled. The authorities themselves had struggled with that certified troublemaker Hairless Tiger, and with everyone from interrogators to jailers being Yang Zhi’s sympathizers, weighing extenuating circumstances appeared to have been easily done.

"He is to be exiled to the region of Beijing and reduced to a common soldier in the Damingfu garrison."

This was the judgment of guilt. At the same time, "The treasured sword in his possession shall hereby be confiscated by the authorities." Both verdicts were pronounced.

In accordance with standard procedure, it was unavoidable that he was branded on the forehead with a golden seal (tattoo). However, the beating with the expulsion rod on his back was light, and soon he was sent under guard toward distant Beijing under the open sky.

Yang Zhi, the Blue-Faced Beast, Demonstrates Divine Martial Skills in Response to a Comrade

Beijing, at the time, was also called Damingfu and was renowned as the capital of the Five Dynasties.

"If Hebei is governed, the realm is governed. If Hebei is in chaos, the realm is in chaos." As the saying that had existed since the Tang dynasty went, to the west lay the Taihang Mountain Range, to the east bordered the distant Bohai Sea, and to the north rested the Great Wall of Ten Thousand Li, renowned as impregnable against invasions by Northern Barbarians. However, in recent years, due to the need for vigilance against invasions by the Jurchens of Manchuria and the Liao, Emperor Huizong's Song court also placed great emphasis there, stationing particularly eminent figures in its garrison command—the Beijing military commander and regional guardian.

Shijie Liang Zhongshu was that man.

He was the son-in-law of Grand Preceptor (Chancellor) Cai Jing, His Excellency of the capital, and in this Beijing held the crucial post of garrison command entrusted with full authority over both military and civil governance—thus his influence was beyond question. "Oh," he muttered upon reviewing the transfer documents submitted by the escorts, "so Yang Zhi of Tokyo has been reduced to a common soldier?"

One day, Liang Zhongshu looked at a document submitted by the escorts and muttered to himself. Yang Zhi was originally from a distinguished family, so he had some knowledge of his character. After giving the escort guards the official seal for custody transfer and sending them back, he promptly summoned Yang Zhi to his residence, “What crime did you commit to be demoted to a mere common soldier?” Liang Zhongshu questioned him about the circumstances. And then, upon hearing the details from his mouth,

“Oh, so that’s how it was. “Very well. Wait patiently for the opportune moment. “I won’t keep a man of your standing as a common soldier forever.” He consoled him at length, and Yang Zhi was temporarily quartered as a soldier within Liang Zhongshu’s residence. Yet even with his authority, Liang Zhongshu could not promote Yang Zhi without justification. Thus he waited for the day when Beijing’s entire garrison would hold grand military exercises at the training ground beyond the city walls—there he would test Yang Zhi’s martial skills. Should Yang Zhi demonstrate exceptional prowess, Liang Zhongshu resolved to honor him with great promotion.

The time was early February when spring was just beginning to stir. The grand training ground was filled with the flags and troops of Beijing's three armies. When the appointed hour arrived, conch shells sounded and drums thundered as Liang Zhongshu made his entrance to the ceremonial grounds accompanied by his vice-commander and a large contingent of troops to the strains of military music. After a solemn review conducted under the commands of two generals—Heavenly King Li Cheng and Great Blade Wen Da—the entire army offered their deepest salute toward the Commander's platform before unleashing three thunderous battle cries that shook heaven and earth. Instantly splitting into two formations, soldiers waved red and white banners. At the drum's signal, massed troops from both armies demonstrated Crane Wing, Bird Cloud, Water Flow, Wheel Formation, and Yin-Yang Thirty-Six Transformations tactics—culminating in a roaring clash where both sides dissolved into chaotic melee combat while fierce single combats erupted across the field.

Among them all, the Red Army's Deputy Commander Zhou Jin performed remarkably; none could stand before his spear. "Zhou Jin. Your usual rigorous training has clearly borne fruit—today's performance was splendid!"

From his gleaming silver chair, Liang Zhongshu praised him and spoke again. "By the way, Yang Zhi—formerly Palace Commandant-Envoy of Tokyo—having been exiled and reduced to a common soldier, has today also come along as my attendant." "He was a commander of the imperial guards who excelled in the eighteen martial arts. “Have him compete with you there in spear technique!” “With all due respect…” Zhou Jin pursed his lips.

“To have me compete with a mere exiled soldier… this is too—”

"What nonsense are you spouting?" Liang Zhongshu deliberately raised his voice and rebuked.

“Nowadays, bandits run rampant throughout the provinces, while at the borders lurk Liao tribes and Jurchen marauders—there has never been a time when the nation needed talent more than today. If one truly possesses divine martial skills, then even a mere soldier who does not employ them is disloyal to the nation. Do you dare call that unfair, Zhou Jin?” “No—that’s not at all what I meant.”

"Then summon Yang Zhi here." Summoned, Yang Zhi had long been aware of Liang Zhongshu's goodwill toward him. Naturally, he could raise no objection. The two men were given sets of jet-black armor and black horses. Their weapons were practice spears—tips wrapped in woolen cloth to form rounded heads—liberally coated with lime. "Now!" Before the command platform, the two men charged their steeds and crossed spears. Though the blunted weapons made judging strikes difficult, their skill disparity became glaringly apparent. After prolonged clashes, Zhou Jin's body and black mount became speckled with white marks, while Yang Zhi's form and steed remained utterly unblemished.

The match was decided! The gong sounded.

Then, Commander of Cavalry and Infantry Li Cheng stepped forward and appealed to the command platform.

“Zhou Jin appears deeply aggrieved.” “Since his specialty lies in archery, I humbly request that you allow him to wield a bow and grant us another match for your esteemed observation.”

“Yang Zhi. Is this agreeable?” “Understood.”

Once again, a blue flag was waved from the command platform. With a resounding clash of gong and drum, the horses spurred each other on and dashed south across the training ground. Yang Zhi was the one fleeing. Zhou Jin released three arrows—all three were splendidly deflected by Yang Zhi’s single-handed shield. Now it was Yang Zhi’s turn to pursue. Yang Zhi drew his bow taut and closed in on Zhou Jin’s back, but deliberately avoided vital points to strike his shoulder instead. Yet even a shoulder strike must have some effect. With a gasp, Zhou Jin tumbled down from his horse.

“Yang Zhi’s martial skills were first-rate, truly befitting the central style—Zhou Jin never stood a chance. From this day forth, Zhou Jin shall relinquish his post to Yang Zhi, who is hereby appointed Deputy Commander of the division. Military Secretary—issue his commission at once.”

When Liang Zhongshu thus commanded, suddenly, a stalwart man leaped out from one end of the military ranks and spoke.

“These words are most unacceptable to this Suo Chao.” “I do not say this because Zhou Jin is my disciple—but when Your Excellency declares Yang Zhi’s martial skills first-rate in the central style, it sounds as though the Beijing General Army has no worthy men left!” “If such praise must be given, then let it only come after defeating this Suo Chao!”

“Ha ha ha ha! “Ah, if it isn’t Suo Chao—Commander of the Regular Army (general of an army), also known as the Vanguard! “Unacceptable, unacceptable! “If that is your wish, then let us have a match.” At last, the situation grew increasingly grave. Since the two combatants were ordered to don full armor anew and the dueling grounds had been relocated directly before the command platform’s railing, Liang Zhongshu moved his silver chair right up to the railing’s edge. As the large sun disk now sank into evening clouds above Beijing’s Seven Gates’ watchtowers, a beautifully fringed canopy cast its gentle shade over his official headdress.

The martial music began. When it ended, war drums and gongs sounded from within the fences on both sides, while from the tower above came the command: "Ready!" The yellow flag was already being waved. Boom! From the far end of the training ground, the explosive sound of a beacon fire echoed through the evening sky. There, from under the western gate banner came Suo Chao the Vanguard, and from the eastern gate, Yang Zhi the Blue-Faced Beast. Each was clad in resplendent armor and helmets. Adorned with battlefield ferocity, they could be seen calmly approaching each other.

"Hrah..."

Suddenly, the figures of the two riders drew a fish-scale pattern and became entangled. Suo Chao sat astride his snow-white steed wielding a great axe carved with golden flames, while Yang Zhi gripped his keen divine spear tightly as they galloped resoundingly about, probing each other for openings.

This battle was a magnificent spectacle. Both their majestic bearing and their techniques made even spectators hold their breath. The great axe flashed repeatedly; the spear tip gleamed like lightning—through how many dozen clashes they roared. Though the horses streamed with sweat, neither combatant could gain advantage. The entire arena fell silent as the crimson flames of a colossal setting sun sank moment by moment into the western sky. Yet still both warriors brimmed with unyielding vigor. One might have suspected this was a battle between deathless men.

“Ah… Magnificent!” Liang Zhongshu had unconsciously risen from his silver chair in rapt absorption. He felt satisfied. “Daming Prefecture has gained two mighty heroes,” he declared with delight. A messenger rushed from his side. The draw-gong reverberated. Though Suo Chao’s men raised thunderous cheers, Yang Zhi’s faction remained silent. Yet both men stood aligned below the platform, receiving equal honors. That evening in the Martial Hall’s upper chambers, they were celebrated at a grand banquet where—

"Henceforth, Suo Chao and Yang Zhi shall both equally serve as Military Commanders (Chief of Gendarmes)."

Thus, they were appointed.

What constituted misfortune or fortune? Truly, human fate remained unknowable. From that time onward, Yang Zhi found favor with Liang Zhongshu, and Yang Zhi in turn felt gratitude, serving that man wholeheartedly.

Before long, summer drew near, and when the arrival of May was heralded, that day was the Dragon Boat Festival.

With all the festival guests having departed, Liang Zhongshu and Cai Furen were finally alone together and relaxed in their private chamber. And while pouring calamus wine into his wife’s cup, “Since taking on such a busy and weighty position, I rarely get to see your smile.”

he deliberately said things that would please his wife.

Cai Furen struck an alluring pose while exuding her customary pride in her prestigious family. "But aren't such honors and riches what everyone envies? What extravagance." "Not at all. I wasn't voicing complaints. On the contrary, I haven't forgotten your father Minister Cai's patronage even in my dreams." "Speaking of which, your father's birthday approaches soon. You've forgotten again, haven't you?"

“What do you mean? Would I forget? Your father’s birthday is July fifteenth. This year, to avoid repeating last year’s failure, I’ve been privately devoting my utmost care.” “Last year was quite the oversight, wasn’t it? Though you sent such an enormous amount of gold, silver, and jewels to the capital for your father’s celebration, wasn’t it all plundered by bandits along the way?” As if reproaching her husband for some failing, Cai Furen’s eyes pierced Liang Zhongshu’s profile with a sharp light finer than the lapis lazuli of her earrings. He too found himself at a loss for words, and it seemed he had been racking his brains since early this year as well.

“Now. What do you intend to do… this time?” “That’s why I’ve already taken care of it this year as well—we’ve scoured this ancient capital of Beijing and secretly gathered rare treasures and valuables worth 100,000 guan in the vaults, you know.”

“No. But more importantly—how can you ensure those costly treasures are safely delivered to your father in the capital? Isn’t that crucial matter of execution precisely what demands attention?” “In that case, it’s a matter of the man. After all, we need nothing less than a man of utmost trustworthiness—and furthermore, he must be a hero who will never suffer defeat, no matter what bandits he encounters.” “Does not even a single person suitable for this exist among the hundreds of thousands of troops in Beijing?”

“No, that’s not the case…” he hastily retorted.

“Heroes exist,” “There’s no shortage of martial arts masters.” “But consider this.” “When you speak of treasures worth 100,000 guan, that’s an immense fortune.” “Even with my savings and salary, as a private individual, I could never plausibly send such vast valuables to my father-in-law in the capital... Those with mere brute strength cannot be entrusted with this secret, nor can such schemers be dispatched as couriers.” “Thus in selecting personnel, I too must act with utmost prudence...”

"Truly, hearing this, there may indeed be no suitable candidates," Cai Furen remarked. "But should we let your father taste empty hopes again this year, even you would find yourself without excuse." "...Now wait," Liang Zhongshu temporized. "Dozens of days yet remain. It isn't that I lack someone in mind altogether." His fingers drummed the lacquered table as he weighed his words. "The question lies in whether he proves sufficiently trustworthy. Let us observe a while longer." At that moment, the sole figure occupying Liang Zhongshu's thoughts—the unspoken candidate—could be none other than that Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi.

A wandering prodigy brought the karmic burden of a predestined star to Dongxi Village.

Lately.

In Shandong Province’s Jizhou Prefecture’s Yuncheng County, there was a magistrate who had newly arrived to take up his post.

His surname was “Shi” and his given name “Wenbin.” The county residents held him in high regard. Though the present age was said to be at the height of corruption, there were still many good officials among them. He was exceptionally fair and impartial in distinguishing right from wrong; such was Wenbin, who loved orchids, played the qin, and often read books during his leisure time.

“—Since my arrival in this jurisdiction, I have yet to implement any significant administrative measures, but I intend to make establishing public order throughout the county my foremost priority.”

One day, he posted the principles of civil governance on the wall of the county government hall—a county being equivalent to a Japanese district—and announced to all officials gathered in the public courtyard that day: “Wherever I have been posted, I have keenly felt that as an official, bringing peace to the people and living in harmony with them proves an exceedingly difficult task—yet I consider this county particularly challenging to govern.” “The reason lies here: with bandit strongholds like Mount Liang Marsh and other marshlands present, our roads stand desolate, the local temperament grows coarse, and what’s more—despite daily reports of heinous crimes—the authorities have achieved nothing thus far, leaving them viewed as powerless and looked down upon by both common folk and villains alike.”

Everyone fell completely silent. Everyone looked thoroughly ashamed. However, within the ranks were the faces of two giants who seemed dissatisfied, their entire countenances burning restlessly as they pricked up their ears and listened. Both were officers of the administration—chiefs of the constables. One was an officer of cavalry constables named Zhu Tong; because his beard resembled that of Guan Yu, he bore the nickname "Lord of the Beautiful Beard."

Furthermore, the other infantry officer was one Lei Heng who also stood over seven feet tall and possessed not only extraordinary physical strength beyond ordinary men but also the special skill of leaping over any earthen wall or small stream in a single bound—earning him throughout the county the nickname "Inserted Wings Tiger." Since these two had shown somewhat defiant expressions toward the new magistrate’s directives, Wenbin, sensing their antagonism, offered a faint smile and swiftly moved on.

“But what’s done cannot be undone.” “However, from now on, let us devote ourselves to public order throughout the county through mutual cooperation.” “Therefore, I order Constable Chiefs Lei Heng and Zhu Tong—”

The two in the ranks slightly corrected their upright posture. “Though it may be arduous, immediately lead your subordinates—one group shall patrol through the villages along West Gate Road, while the other shall depart via East Gate Avenue to survey the county, capturing any bandits encountered along the way and aiding citizens in distress. Then, have both patrol units rendezvous atop Dongxi Village’s mountain to exchange information.” “Understood.” “Then we’ll proceed at once.” “Wait—on Dongxi Village’s mountain stands a renowned great maple tree, hailed as a marvel of the realm.” “Those leaves are unlike any other.” “Each of you, without fail, bring back those maple leaves as proof of having patrolled.” “Is that clear? If you neglect your duties, I will hold you accountable.”

Magistrate Shi Wenbin. He restrained what needed restraining and proved unwaveringly strict where severity was demanded.

That evening, Zhu Tong departed through the West Gate, but he temporarily set aside his own duties, first intending to observe Lei Heng's path.

Lei Heng, leading over twenty constables, departed through East Gate Avenue, patrolled the villages, walked through the county again the next day, ascended the agreed-upon Dongxi Mountain, and stood beneath the renowned great maple tree. Before long, Zhu Tong’s group arrived as well. After exchanging information there, the two men couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “Well now, you’ve worked hard enough.” “Just when we need ’em most—not a single petty thief in sight.” “This ain’t nothin’ but a maple-leaf viewing trip—”

The return journey stretched into night. Exchanging paths in reverse, they descended the mountain while waving their torches.

It was just when Lei Heng's unit arrived near Lingguan Temple at the foot of the mountain. Lei Heng caught a glimpse and saw the temple door left wide open like a demon's maw. “Huh, the temple keeper’s not here. That’s strange.”

Lei Heng abruptly came to a halt. It seemed that years of instinct had detected something foul there. “Hey! Just to be safe—take torches and check inside.”

At Lei Heng's shout, his subordinate constables clattered into the temple. There in the cobweb-filled darkness they found paradise - a giant man lay completely naked atop the offering table, using a rolled-up robe as a pillow while snoring thunderously in deep sleep. "Well lookit this bastard sleepin' with that hell-face..." "Not even stirrin'."

The constables were appalled.

Hairy shins, chest hair, jet-black skin. His feet, calloused from going barefoot, resembled elephant hide; his face was mottled with red birthmarks, eyebrows scarcely visible. Thick drool dripped from his fleshy lips as he lay sprawled in undignified slumber. "Hah! This one's got 'wanted' written all over him." "Squeeze him and gold'll come pouring out." "Better'n hauling back these worthless maple scraps as proof." The moment these words left their lips, Lei Heng kicked the table beneath the man's body, flipping both over with a crash.

“Bind him!” “Don’t let him spout any nonsense!” And thus, Lei Heng abruptly had the man seized. Of course, the young man with red birthmarks bellowed and thrashed about in resistance, but against over twenty constables, there was nothing he could do. He was dragged toward the foot of Dongxi Mountain like a wounded boar.

At the foot of this mountain, with a single stream serving as the boundary, lay two settlements: Xixi Village and Dongxi Village. In the past, rumors arose in Xixi Village that even in broad daylight, supernatural beings would appear. In fact, at the abyss there, villagers—both men and women—would drown without reason, cattle and horses would be dragged in, and many strange and mysterious incidents occurred. Then one year, a traveling monk,

"I will subdue the restless spirits and offer prayers for them." ...carved sutras onto a large blue stone slab, conducted a ritual to disperse the supernatural beings, and departed.

From then on, peace continued in Xixi Village.

It was proclaimed—"All the specters of Xixi Village have fled to Dongxi Village!"—

The one who became enraged was Chao Gai, the village chief of Dongxi Village. "Monsters can come all they like, but as long as I'm village chief here, I won't stand for such slander! You bastards of Xixi Village—don't you dare lose your nerve by tomorrow morning!" Chao Gai crossed the stream alone at midnight and carried back the memorial pagoda from the western bank. Then he placed it firmly in a scenic spot of Dongxi Village and composed himself.

Since then, this village chief came to be known by a nickname. —Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King.— That name became famous. "Hey! Ain't none of you gonna wake up and check?" "There's been some bastard bangin' on the front gate nonstop since earlier!" "You're all a bunch of lazy layabouts!" Chao Gai had been shouting since earlier, but finally left his bedroom and went out to the front gate. That morning. No—it was a time when night had not yet broken into dawn. "Shut up! Who's there at this hour?"

When he opened it, there stood a pitch-black, imposing figure. In the torchlight was visible a large bound man and Lei Heng—an acquaintance. “Oh! If it isn’t the county constable,” he said. “What in the world has happened?”

“Hey, Chao Gai. It’s rather rude coming with such a crowd, but I want my men to have their morning meal. Could you spare us a corner of your estate for a while?” “No trouble at all. Did you bag some big game?” “Nah, nothing that grand. We found some shady character sleeping in Lingguan Temple, tied him up, and are heading back now. Since it’s within village bounds, figured we ought to let you know.”

“Well now... Please do come straight through.” “I’ll wake the servants at once and have them prepare breakfast immediately.” Soon the manor’s interior grew bustling with activity. Given these were county officials, no courtesy was spared—not only were wine and meals served, but they even heated bathwater in all the hubbub.

In that interval, Chao Gai peered into a dark room of the gatehouse. As the village chief, he must have felt obligated to take a look at the bound man. When he looked, there was a young man with a dusky body covered in countless wounds, both hands hoisted up to a beam and left hanging as he stood on tiptoe. Whether from severe burn scars or the red birthmarks covering his face, he contorted his features while enduring the pain with gritted teeth.

“Hmm. “Don’t recognize you from around here.” “Hey, where the hell are you from?”

“I’m from far away, uh—there was someone in these parts I wanted to visit.” “Th-Then they tied me up with ropes for no damn reason… Ow, ow, ow!”

“What’s this? Quite the young lad, ain’t ya. And who’s this ‘person’ you’re tryin’ to visit?” “The Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King of Dongxi Village.” “Huh? What business?”

“Can’t say that.” “But Master Chao—you’re the village chief here, ain’t ya?” “…Master—what village is this?” “This is Dongxi Village.” “And I’m that very Chao Gai.” “Oh! S-So you’re him? …Then listen up.” “I’m from Dongluzhou—” “Ah—someone’s coming.” “Just tell me your business in one word—quickly!” “See—through some… some chance tip-off—I-I found ’bout a… a huge money chance—came t’report it.” “Figured you’d be the master t’consult.”

“Alright! I’ll hear the details later.” “Even if you say ‘later,’ I’m still in these ropes!” “I’ll save you. Become my nephew—my nephew, you hear? Say you’d left the village at five or six and came seeking me after catching wind of rumors… Understand? Make your story match perfectly.” “I’ll arrange the scene.” Feigning ignorance, Chao Gai promptly went to the detached pavilion where Lei Heng was resting and presented himself at his seat.

“Oh, already making preparations for departure?” “Well, Master Chao. At this untimely hour, causing you such great trouble—my apologies. Since dawn is breaking, I think we should get going.” “You’ve had quite the ordeal. And please do come by again when you’re in the area.”

At the gate, subordinates had already begun assembling in full force with arrest tools like spears, staves, and barbed forks. Lei Heng departed briskly too. Under pretext of seeing them off, Chao Gai followed behind them and saw the bound man being dragged out from the gatehouse,

“Oh... Oh my... What a giant of a man!” he deliberately exclaimed while widening his eyes in feigned astonishment. Seeming to recognize his cue, the bound man suddenly began shouting at the top of his voice: “Ah! It’s Uncle!” “Uncle, please help me!”

“Wh-what’s that?” Chao Gai deliberately adopted a puzzled expression, then gazed intently at the man for several moments. “Wh-what... Aren’t you Wang Xiaosan?” “Y-yes, Uncle... Ah, Uncle... You still remembered this Xiaosan after all these years...”

The ones who were shocked were the captors. In particular, Lei Heng was taken aback.

“Huh? This man is your nephew...? Such a vagabond...!” "I must say, this is utterly shameful." “A shame—no, rather, he is my sister and her husband’s child.” "When this one was still a sniveling child of six or seven, the couple fled to Nanjing under cover of night, and there’s been no word since." “After that, this brat Xiaosan got into mischief and gave himself a severe burn on the head—that was around fourteen or fifteen—and though he temporarily returned to the village with his parents, the lazy fool, tainted by the capital’s ways, soon left again.” “Since then, my sister and her husband have had nothing but misfortune. I’d vaguely heard that their red-birthmarked brat was lured by gangsters, never settling at home, peddling his filial impiety far and wide—but never did I imagine he would receive the honor of Officer Lei Heng’s ropes.”

“Hmm… Well, unexpected things do happen.” Chao Gai snapped and glared at the fake nephew. “Hey, Xiaosan! Why did you come all the way back to your hometown village and commit such misdeeds?” “No, Uncle! I was just hungry and had nowhere to sleep, so I bedded down at Lingguan Temple—that’s all!” “If you haven’t done any wrong, why were you arrested?” “I don’t know. It was like a dream—before I knew it, I was tied up.”

“Don’t lie!” Feigning rage, Chao Gai snatched the arresting officer’s club and suddenly struck the man’s shoulder two or three times. “Bastard! Tell the truth—the whole truth!” “But Uncle, there’s no other way to put it. ...As you say, I’ve ruined myself and been unfilial time and again, so I came here on an empty stomach hoping you’d beat this bad nature out of me. That’s exactly why I didn’t steal anything and thought I could reach your place once dawn broke, but…”

“This bastard thinks he can win people over with his tears!” “You think I’d fall for such a trick?!”

This time, Lei Heng hurriedly stopped the club that was being raised again. It wasn't that he sympathized with Xiaosan, but since he had only been arrested on mere suspicion in the first place, he moved to smooth things over,

“If he’s the master’s nephew, there’s no problem here. Quickly untie those ropes for him.” he ordered his subordinates as well.

“Tch! What a lucky bastard,” Chao Gai said, glaring sidelong at him. “Xiaosan—don’t you forget this kindness.” “I must apologize for pointlessly troubling you in your official duties,” he continued deferentially. “Might I trouble you once more to refresh your palate in the inner quarters before departing?”

Forcing himself to console Lei Heng once more, he discreetly gave several silver pieces as a token. He also gave each subordinate their respective items, and as his scheming proved splendidly effective, Lei Heng's party soon departed through the manor gate.

In the inner quarters of the rear manor, what followed then unfolded.

The vagabond, now clad in fresh garments and a hood, having eaten his morning meal and seemingly restored to full vigor, faced Chao Gai and began to lay bare his true background. "To begin with, this one is a ruffian born in Dongluzhou." "Though I go by the surname Liu and given name Tang, that name was bestowed by parents I never knew, who perished long ago." "On account of this crimson visage, others have dubbed me Red Horse or Red-Haired Demon." "I humbly entreat you to remember this one henceforth."

With that, he performed the customary formalities of a first meeting. “Having long heard of your esteemed reputation, I had thought to seek your acquaintance someday—when just recently, through smuggling associates in Shandong and Hebei, I caught wind of a lucrative opportunity. Judging there could be no better partner for such a grand haul than the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King—no, rather, Master Chao—I have come before you accordingly.” “Ah, I see now. But this ‘grand haul’ of a lucrative scheme—what exactly is it?”

“Is it permissible to speak of it here?” “Ah.”

“Wait a moment,” Chao Gai said, compelled to stand up and secure the area. He locked the door and drew the window curtains—“Now. Speak freely.” “Well now—Liang Zhongshu of Daming Prefecture in Beijing will soon secretly send 100,000 guan worth of gold, silver, pearls, jewels, and antiques to Dongjing in Kaifeng... though I daresay you aren’t aware of this.”

“I don’t know.” “And that—for what purpose?” “It’s meant as a birthday gift from Liang Zhongshu to his father-in-law—Minister Cai, who currently holds the highest position in Emperor Song’s court.” “Well, so it’s the clans’ open bribery then.” “That’s right—couldn’t be anything else!” “Put plainly, it’s all ill-gotten wealth made from commoners’ sweat and grease through wicked schemes.” “Even if we snatch that loot, I don’t reckon the Heavenly Judge would call only us wicked for it, eh?”

“Last year, there were rumors it got stolen by bandits along the way—” “So you see, Master. Wouldn’t it be a shame to let others handle it? Rumors say Master Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King is a man of valor—spears and staves aren’t just some gentleman’s pastime for you. Moreover, I’ve heard you’re a man who stands strong against injustice.”

“Cut it out.” “I don’t get taken in by flattery.” “Forgive me.” “That wasn’t this one’s intention in saying so.” “Even if he is the commander-in-chief of Beijing army—to offer 100,000 guan worth of treasures year after year to his wife’s family in this parched age—now that’s what this one calls a grand thief.” “Alright then—if that’s how it is—we’ll use superior methods and snatch it ourselves! …What say you Master? Any objections?”

“First off, there’s last year’s failure.” “Surely this year, they wouldn’t send out such incompetent guards who’d let themselves be plundered so easily.” “What’s the problem? This Liu Tang here has some skill in his arms, you know!” “Especially if you, Lord Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King, would give your approval and take action—that’s all I ask.” “I must admit, it’s a splendid plan.” “But don’t let your appetite be whetted just yet.” “So I’ll yield it to you.” “This lucrative opportunity.” “Well… Let’s think it over properly.” “Why don’t you have a drink in the guest quarters and rest at your leisure?” “I’ll decide whether to proceed or not after some deliberation, and then we can discuss it further—how does that sound?”

With no alternative, the Red-Haired Demon Liu Tang withdrew to the guest quarters for the time being and, seated before the provided wine tray, was gulping it down noisily alone.

But he found it utterly disagreeable. Chao Gai's evasive reply was displeasing to him. "Hah! Hah! "He must have taken me for a mere fool and deemed me unworthy as a partner." The moment he thought this, the alcohol inflamed his smoldering resentment until he could no longer endure it.

When he suddenly glared out the window, a bare horse was tethered at the back gate. Having thought of something, Liu Tang muttered to himself, "...All right." And from the wall-mounted spear rack, he grabbed a nodachi. "Deputy Lei Heng hadn't gone far yet." After all, because of that bastard, I got tied up and whined pathetically, making even Chao Gai look down on me as some slovenly fool. "If I chased down Lei Heng, took either an apology letter or one of that bastard's arms, and showed it, even Chao Gai would have to reconsider me."

What confidence drove him? The Red-Haired Demon leapt out lightly and galloped like an arrow on horseback from the manor’s back gate onto the county road.—Meanwhile, the sun rose high, shaking off the morning dew from the pastures, as a hundred birds sang in the trees and crimson clouds drifted beautifully over the distant mountains. If only there were no human conflicts on earth and no rot in the Song government’s rule, this world would be exactly like heaven—but alas.

The village teacher posted a wall notice stating “School closed today” and left. After all, they were just county patrol officers with no urgent path to hurry along. Having been treated to morning wine on empty stomachs, Lei Heng and his men had become all the more inclined to stroll idly. And once they crossed that single stone bridge, they would be at the border of what was called the next neighboring village. “Hey! Wait!” “Lei Heng, wait!” Startled by the sudden voice from behind, he whirled around to find none other than Red Birthmark—having lightly leaped down from his bareback horse and tied it to a willow—advancing with a nodachi curved menacingly in hand.

“Oh! You’re that nephew of the manor whose bonds I released earlier,” Lei Heng said. “What business do you have chasing after me?” “I came to get a written apology,” Liu Tang retorted. “Now write! —‘Last night, I subjected an innocent person to unreasonable rope bonds—a truly inexcusable mistake.’ —Write that apology letter and hand it over!” “Don’t be ridiculous!” Lei Heng snapped. “You’ve forgotten the mercy I showed you already.” “Mercy would be appalled to hear this! From my uncle, you received several silver coins as a bribe, didn’t you?” Liu Tang’s voice grew sharper. “Ugh, what a pain! If you don’t hand over a written apology, I’ll chop off one of your arms and take it with me!”

“This bastard…!” Lei Heng snarled. “Just because you’re Chao Gai’s nephew and I let you off, you think you can strut around like this?!”

“Oh yeah?!” “What the hell do you take me for?” “At Lingguan Temple, I couldn’t do a thing when caught off guard in my sleep, but now I’m a bit different, you know!” “This is payback for those unjust bonds! Lei Heng, prepare yourself!” The swiftness of the nodachi swung overhead— Lei Heng had no time to dodge; he drew the official sword at his waist and blocked with a clang. Thus they clashed blade against blade amidst sparks for several dozen exchanges—

Amidst the clamor of the constables swarming about, there was not even a moment’s opening for them to reach out from the side.

“This brat—” Lei Heng boasted to his surrounding subordinates as he fought. “I alone am enough. Don’t interfere. Watch from a distance.” However, whether the result would proceed as he had boasted appeared uncertain. If Lei Heng’s swordsmanship carried the majesty of a phoenix, the Red-Haired Demon’s nodachi resonated with the cry of a hawk striking its prey. When the crimson-haired shadow sank into the whirlwind, the figure of Swift Thunder leapt over him. Each had their own style and techniques—a contest of secret arts conducted with perfect form—so this match showed no sign of ending anytime soon.

However, as Lei Heng's subordinates, they could no longer just stand by and watch.

“Ah—! Boss! Look out!” someone shouted. At the same moment, they surged forward to lend aid. But just before they could intervene, from the latticed gate of a quiet house nestled among roadside trees, there darted forth a figure as graceful as a crane.

“Now, pray wait.” With that, the man used the weighted chain in his hand to separate them. “Both of you, sheathe your blades,” he said. “What seems to be the trouble? Won’t you entrust this matter to my humble self? When such theatrics unfold before my home, I can hardly remain a mere spectator.” He managed the situation without urgency, laughing dryly. Lei Heng and Liu Tang instinctively sheathed their weapons to observe him. This was Wu Yong—the Resourceful Star—a village schoolteacher surpassing provincial expectations, bearing the Daoist name Jialiang and nicknamed Scholar. He was also known as Wu Xueren or Master Wu Yong in abbreviated forms.

Clad in a hemp robe with black edging and wearing a scholar’s headscarf, he had a full beard yet was no stooped old man. His complexion was fair, his crimson lips brimming with youthful vitality, and beneath his clear eyes there lay something of the intellectual. The scholar came from a family that had been locally rooted for generations; according to public reputation, he was said to be thoroughly versed in ten thousand volumes of literature, to have mastered the Six Secret Teachings and Three Strategies in his heart, to approach Zhuge Kongming in wisdom, and to rival Chen Ping in talent. Moreover, in the Jizhou region, with this man present, it was said that the purity of children’s songs remained untainted, and the sound of scholarly reading was preserved in the countryside... such was the extent of his acclaim.

“Step aside, village schoolteacher,” Liu Tang barked at Wu Yong. “You’ll get hurt!” Liu Tang still roared defiance. Lei Heng too would not be silenced—as a government officer bound by official bonds, he had his duty. “Scholar,” Lei Heng snapped at Wu Yong. “Stay out of this! I cannot let this pass!” “Is he a thief?” Wu Yong calmly inquired of Lei Heng. “This man?” “No—he claims to be Zhuangyuan’s nephew or some such,” Lei Heng retorted.

Liu Tang snarled from the side. "That incompetent officer over there—the one who falsely accused an innocent man of theft and had the gall to bind me with ropes!" "Still spewing lies?" "Damn right! Produce a written apology!" "You bastard! Craving another taste of the ropes?"

With a sudden rush, their heels kicked up sand—in the very instant it seemed they would clash once more, from somewhere—

“You fools! What do you think you’re doing!”

Chao Gai’s voice rang out. Breathless, he who had rushed there afterward dismounted from his horse’s back and, without a moment’s delay, stepped between the two men, first apologizing to Lei Heng. “Truly, he is an utterly outrageous fellow. Though you must be furious, I beg you to forgive him.”

And then, he gave Liu Tang’s shoulder a shove,

“You drunken bastard! In the blink of an eye, you’ve already guzzled your wine – then what madness made you come charging out here?”

Chao Gai suddenly snatched the nodachi from his hand and lunged to strike with the back of the blade. Startled, he grabbed hold of his arm, “Ah. Now, pray do not be so angry.” “Now, pray do not be so angry.” It was Wu Xueren who stopped him. “Now that I’ve heard it, it seems this is merely petty retaliation over a simple misunderstanding.” “Moreover, if he’s under the influence of alcohol, that makes it all the more understandable.” “Officer Lei, though I cannot condone this interruption of your official duties, here—for Master Chao’s sake and mine—might I ask you to show some forbearance?”

With apologies from both, even Lei Heng could not hold out.

Seizing this moment, Lei Heng gathered his subordinates and departed, while Liu Tang—having been told by Chao Gai, "Return to the residence ahead"—likewise mounted a bareback horse and rode back with a smirk.

Now only Wu Yong and Chao Gai remained. “Well, today I was treated to quite a spectacle.—It’s fortunate you arrived when you did; otherwise, who knows how that clash between the nodachi and the official sword might have ended? Lei Heng is a renowned swordsman, but that red-marked fellow is no weakling either. Had things gone differently, even Master Lei Heng might have been defeated.” “Huh? So that’s how it was… with that red horse?” “Hahahaha! That red horse was quite something. It truly carries the bearing of Lü Bu’s beloved steed Red Hare from the Later Han period. Though I was told he’s your nephew...”

“Ah, but Master, there lies considerable backstory to that matter. Might I trouble you for a private consultation regarding an urgent affair?”

“A matter requiring such urgency—is this truly of grave importance?”

“Truly, this is a matter of utmost gravity—one that has entirely surpassed this unworthy one’s considerations.” “Wait a moment. Though it’s unfortunately a day for classes, I shall leave a wall notice first.”

Wu Yong entered his house. He gave some instructions to the old servant, then took up a brush, swiftly wrote a notice, and pasted it on the classroom wall where the students would easily see it.

“This should do.” “This should do.” “Come now, Master Chao, shall we go together?”

With that, he came outside. Chao Gai had suddenly halted because his attention had been caught by the wording of the notice Wu Yong had left on the wall. So that even children could read it easily, it had been written as follows: Teacher: Today Urgent business; I am away. Recitation: Canceled Calligraphy: Do at home Those who play: Play with frogs Do not fall in the river

Frogs: Play with them Do not fall into the river.

Consultations, too, depend entirely on the matter at hand—or so the saying goes.

“From Liang Zhongshu of Beijing to Minister Cai in the capital—should we seize the birthday gifts valued at 100,000 guan? Should we let them pass?” “And...” “Master—if we are to seize them, what ingenious strategy might you devise?” Even for one such as Strategist Star Wu Yong—reputed as the present-day Kongming—this was not a question to which he could readily formulate a response.

A room in the Chao family's library, cleared of people.

"...Actually," In hushed tones, Master Chao Gai carefully disclosed to him the details of that morning's events—Liu Tang's true identity and the intelligence Liu Tang had brought—leaving even Wu Yong deep in silent contemplation for an extended period. Before answering that, he mused in secret— All of this was the inevitable unorthodox tableau that the putrid evil visage of the Song Dynasty was even now sketching across the mortal realm— To lament this as the degradation of people's hearts would be foolish.

If one simply judges evil as evil, then the dark clouds of evil grow denser the higher the echelon. The higher the echelon, the greater the scale. Moreover, hiding within politics and letting power speak for them, they perpetrate evil that has been publicly justified—knowing no shame. In contrast, the evils of the common people are mostly minor ones: To live. To find some enjoyment in life. For shared human desires. Or for rebellion. Especially now, there are many rebels. Is it not the rotten soil of the Song Dynasty itself that has caused them to swarm forth from the earth like insects? Are they not the noblemen and high officials who arrogantly believe "This world is my world"?

Liang Zhongshu. Cai Furen. Minister Cai. Those too were but two or three grains among the arrogant stars.

In contrast, it was inevitable that rebellious stars—destined one day to challenge the arrogant stars of the upper echelons—were fated to dwell within the earth. These Earthly Fiend Stars, dwelling in the soil of common folk by their very nature as mischievous stars doomed to wickedness, still knew some measure of righteousness—holding compassion for one another without oppressing the weak; understanding at times how men might truly weep together. Simple rather than base—their wildness pitiable yet not without merit—they had not yet lost that true nature which makes humans human.

If they were not discarded nor punished—if one could become a friend sharing both affection and melancholy with them, employ them wisely and guide them toward goodness while granting some purpose and meaning to life within this decaying society—might there not be a way for all to enjoy the world together? If such efforts existed, one could not say there was no hope—that upon the scorched earth of the people under Song rule, a gust of cleansing wind and an expanse of verdant fields might unfurl.

“Master Chao…”

Finally emerging from his deep contemplation，Wu Xueren raised his face— “Proceed．I shall lend my wisdom as well．” Though terse，each word was crystalline，imbued with decisive force．

“Huh? Then would you be willing to lend your wisdom as well? Actually，last night I had a strange dream.” “What kind of dream?”

"I dreamed of the Big Dipper falling onto the roof of my mansion. I thought it strange, but then this morning's events... Whether an auspicious or ominous sign, I was uncertain—but your words have given me strength."

"But even if I tell you to stop, you likely will not desist."

“As your keen insight discerns.” “For someone like me, Chao Gai, there’s no need to cross dangerous bridges—with an ancestral estate passed down through generations, I want for neither food nor clothing.” “Yet when I survey this world today—there’s something I cannot truly savor deep within that’s been festering daily.” “And now comes this very opportunity.” “To speak plainly—it may walk two paths: greed and righteous fury.”

“However, Liang Zhongshu will not repeat last year’s missteps this year. Difficult indeed.” “This lies before resolve... But what is your counsel, Master?” “We absolutely require seven or eight handpicked individuals bound together. Dozens of your hired men or laborers would prove useless.” “Last night’s dream showed the Big Dipper. First there’s you, Master; myself; and Red Horse Liu—only three here. Could we not gather enough to match the stars’ number?”

“Hmm,” said Wu Xueren, once again furrowing his brows in thought,

“No—it’s not impossible. I’ve unexpectedly recalled someone.”

“Huh? The person you speak of with such conviction, Master—” “Three brothers. Men of unwavering loyalty, peerless martial skill—those who would brave fire and flood without hesitation.” “Where in this age could such extraordinary men have remained hidden?” Chao Gai instinctively shifted his knees forward.

Wu Xueren said all at once. “Those three brothers—Ruan Xiao’er, Ruan Xiaowu, and Ruan Xiaoxiu—are true blood siblings through and through.” “They live in Shijie Village by Liangshan Marsh in Jizhou, making their living as fishermen along the riverbanks—though smuggling on the waterways has become routine among their kind.” “Naturally, they’re unlettered men, but I’ve long held their sense of justice and martial skills in high regard.” “Though it’s been two or three years since we last met, I doubt they’d have forgotten this old scholar.”

“Ah, if it’s the three Ruan brothers, I’ve heard faint rumors about them.” “Shijie Village—it’s merely a two-day journey. Why not send a messenger and try summoning them here?”

“Do you think those brothers would come? Even if I, Wu Yong, go there and propose the plan, unless I thoroughly persuade them with this silver tongue of mine—” “I see. If they’re men of that stature, then all the more dependable. Master, would you be willing to go?” “I can go… But first, I must write another postponement notice for the students’ class suspension.”

“Even if we depart tonight, we’ll arrive by noon the day after tomorrow. Before that, I’d like to include Red Horse and offer a drink before your departure.” “Ah, let us do so. Well, well—the vicissitudes of life. Who knows what may happen.” He returned once to the Dongshu school and reappeared from evening onward. At that time, Red Horse Liu Tang was also present, and it seemed he had already heard the details from his master Chao Gai.

The three drank until the second watch. - The occasional lowering of their voices suggested secret discussions. If the notorious Birthday Gifts convoy—those valuables worth 100,000 guan at current prices—were to travel from Beijing to Tokyo, through which area would its route pass? Will they alter the route from last year or not?

These could only be called unknowns at this point. It was now the beginning of May. The birthday gifts were said to be due on July 15th. There were still seventy to eighty days—more than enough time. “We have no shortage of days for preparation.” “But recruiting the three brothers must be done as soon as possible.”

Wu Yong, keeping his drinking in check, promptly began preparing for the journey. Outside hung a night of tepid mist, the atmosphere itself flawless for their purposes.

“Then I’ll refrain from making a formal farewell.” “Hmm, we must avoid attracting notice,” Wu Yong replied. “I’ll have Liu Tang remain confined to the guest chamber until my return.”

“You needn’t worry any longer.” “We await your auspicious return.” The figure of Wu Xueren departing through the gate swiftly faded into the hazy night mist.

A day passed. Around noon two days later. His figure was already spotted by the waterside village of Shijie.

It was land he had frequented many times before. Ruan Xiao'er's house needed no seeking out. Facing a reed-covered shore and nestled against the mountain, stretching from the weathered stakes where several small boats were tied to the thatched hut's fence, a single torn fishing net hung drying.

"Is anyone there?" When he peered into the side room—had someone been napping there? "Who's that?"

A young man abruptly emerged.

This was Ruan Xiao'er. A waist-cut fisherman’s coat hung open at the chest. Though his thick chest hair was unremarkable, the slab-like expanse of his rib cage could have been mistaken for Sichuan’s sheer cliffs. “Oh... Well, well.” His bushy eyebrows and wide mouth all at once softened into a boyish grin,

“What a rare sight! If it isn’t Master,” “What wind blows you here?” “A sudden request has arisen.” “Oh? What might this business be?” “There’s a celebration at a wealthy acquaintance’s house.” “They urgently require about ten golden carp—each fourteen or fifteen jin.” “Quite troublesome.” “Ah, do come aboard.” “No—let’s cross to the opposite shore instead.” “There’s a quaint tavern there, I tell you.”

Barefoot, Ruan Xiao'er rushed out, promptly untied the small boat moored to the stake, helped Wu Yong aboard, and began rowing with practiced oar strokes.

Traveling along the river was just like walking briskly on one’s own feet.

Before long, as they passed diagonally through the river's center, they glimpsed another boat through a break in the reeds. Then Ruan Xiao'er called out from their side. "Hey, Xiaoqi!... What's Xiaowu's take? What does Xiaowu say?" The water carried his voice, and a reply came from across the way. "Oh, Brother Xiao'er!" "...You need something with Brother Xiaowu?" "There's big news—Master Wu has arrived!"

“What?! Master Wu Yong, you say? Don’t lie!” “It’s true—you come too. I’ve invited Master, and now we’re off to have a drink.”

“This is bad—I’ve been spouting nonsense and ended up being downright rude!” As they watched him row through the reed thicket and promptly draw near, this was none other than Ruan Xiaoxiu—the youngest brother whom the village had nicknamed “Living Yama.” Perhaps he had been fishing—wearing a bamboo hat and checkered-patterned short-sleeved wetsuit. Though shaded by the hat’s brim, his large protruding eyes blazed fiercely, while his sinews and bones might as well have been forged from iron. Steadily aligning their gunwales.

“My apologies, Master. It’s been too long since we last met.” “Shall we go together?” “By all means—let me accompany you. ...We could stop by my mother’s house and invite Brother Xiaowu too.”

They approached the nearby shore. Here, too, there was a small village ringed with water. From aboard the boat to that one house.

“Mother. Is Brother Xiaowu here?”

“He’s not here,” came the blunt reply. “Though I’m a fisherman’s mother, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of any fish these past days. That boy—day after day, nothing but gambling losses. Appalling. Just now he snatched my hairpin and vanished!” Xiao’er scratched his head and began rowing away as if fleeing. “My apologies, Master—letting you hear such unpleasant matters. Please don’t take offense.”

“Ha ha ha! Such family squabbles—this isn’t my first time hearing them.” “But the timing’s rotten… Brother Xiaowu’s had no luck either. Truth is, we brothers are all gambling addicts who can’t gamble worth a damn.” “Hasn’t it improved lately?” “Lately’s still manageable, Master—but over a year now, we’ve been stripped bare. Even when we catch fish, no haul’s ever enough.”

“Brother Xiao’er, give it a rest,” Xiaoxiu interjected from the side. “You’re the one who started scratching your head after stuffing your ears with nonsense—what’s your excuse for dishing out these lame complaints yourself now?”

"Not at all. Please laugh, Master." “Ha ha ha ha!” Scholar Wu laughed heartily as they had requested. “You lot remain ever cheerful.” “Fortune belongs to the hour.” “When its time comes, even flowers turned westward may bloom eastward at dawn.” Even as he spoke these words, he smirked inwardly—This shows promise. My scheme takes root.

As they rowed onward, the village's fishing town came into view. The tavern's flag also came into view. The laundry of the houses by the bridge could also be seen. The bow was steadily approaching the shore.

“Ah, Master. Perfect timing. Xiaowu is right here.” “Oh? Where might that be?”

“Look, right over there!”

When they looked where Xiaoxiu was pointing, sure enough, a man who had just descended from the base of the bridge was beginning to untie the boat's mooring.

What hung from his wrist appeared to be two strings of copper coins threaded through a rope. His brow, which exuded a murderous aura, was not merely haggard from gambling; given that he was even nicknamed "Short-Lived Second Son," it must have been a physiognomy all his own. His quickness in brawls could be inferred from his pointed shoulders and long shins; a bluish leopard tattoo peeked out from the collar of his tattered fishing garb; and as if to amplify rather than diminish his ferocity, he had thrust a pomegranate blossom into the side of his stitched headscarf tilted diagonally across his brow.

As they spotted one another and drew near by oar,

“Well, Brother Xiaowu,” called Scholar Wu. “How about it? Does fortune seem to be blowing your way?”

“If it isn’t…” Xiaowu finally relaxed his suspicious expression and burst into laughter. “Master—I didn’t expect this. For a while now, I’ve been watching from that bridge. Where are you off to, Brother Xiao’er?”

“The tavern up ahead.” “Care to join us?”

“There’s one by the bridge too. And courtesans to boot.” “Well, for Master’s treat, the scenery would be better than courtesans. From now until sunset, the reeds and water, returning sails, and those Mount Liang Marsh mountains will shift from crimson glass hues to deep purple—a view so mesmerizing even we rough souls find ourselves entranced. That’s the real feast. Let’s give it one more stroke and head to the waterside tavern.” “Very well—let’s line up the three boats’ bows and head in.” Xiaowu, his pomegranate-patterned headscarf fluttering, leapt nimbly into his own skiff and swiftly caught up with loud strokes of his oar.

Master Wu Yong's net of wisdom: they fished for golden-scaled carp and returned to their home village.

“Ah, not only is the wine delicious—the very air tastes sweet,” Wu Yong remarked. “That we meet on such a day proves we’re truly alive. It’s been too long since I shared cups with you three brothers like this.” “Master,” Xiaoxiu observed, “you’ve grown quite fond of this tavern, haven’t you?”

“Hmm.” “Even a poor fishing village’s tavern can surpass Yueyang Tower’s jade cups at times... By the riverbank, willows and pagoda trees haze green like smoke, and peering beneath this pavilion, lotus blossoms in the pond sway like three thousand palace beauties dancing with their sleeves.” “Ha ha ha! Never seen Master in such fine spirits before! Right, brothers?” When Elder Brother Xiao’er spoke, Younger Brothers Xiaowu and Xiaoxiu chorused: “Glad that worked out. Was startin’ to doubt if bringing you here was wise...” “...By the way, Brother—”

Then, at that moment, Xiaowu cut in, "I'm the only one who hasn't heard—what's this important business about Master Wu Yong suddenly showing up in the village?" "Well," said the eldest brother Ruan Xiao'er, lightly tapping his head, "they want us to gather ten golden carp weighing fourteen or fifteen jin each... But these days, the fishing grounds aren't yielding them easily. Still, Master says a wealthy patron needs them for a wedding and insists we must deliver." "What a mess."

“Hmm, that’s quite the challenge.” “But never mind that. Master, how about another round?” “I’m already well past tipsy.” “The day hazes toward dusk, and my mind turns murky.”

“Master, though it’s but a crude hut—won’t you stay at our place tonight? This tavern doesn’t keep evening hours.” “Ah, though it’s a burden, I’ll accept your kindness. Unless I obtain ten golden carp, this friend of yours shan’t be able to return home.”

This was a pretext—the "golden carp" Wu Yong spoke of were never actual fish with golden scales to begin with. His true aim had been to make the three brothers prey within his net and successfully bring them back as allies for Chao Gai’s grand scheme—but he judged that revealing this truth here would be ill-advised. “Well then, let’s get moving,” he said. “Hey there! Tavern owner, settle the bill for me!” “Don’t be ridiculous—we can’t have you spending money, Master…” protested Ruan Xiao’er. “Please leave the payment here to us brothers.”

“Very well. “Then I’ll bring some provisions as a token.” “Tavern owner, pack one large jug of wine, twenty catties of beef, and one pair of chickens, and load them onto that small boat.”

Wu Yong handed one tael of silver to the tavern owner and made his request. The three Ruan brothers each returned to their small boats, then took Wu Yong aboard, paddled across the evening-waved river, and set off for home. “Come on in and make yourselves at home.”

The place they were guided to was Ruan Xiao’er’s house, which they had briefly stopped by during the day on their way. Among the three brothers, it seemed only the eldest brother had a wife. He promptly ordered his wife and the fishing ground’s bait-gathering apprentice to prepare the meat and chickens they had brought back, “Master, here we can drink through the night without worry—please loosen your belt and make yourself at home this evening.” With that, he rolled up the tattered reed screen of the back room overlooking the water and enveloped them in the moonlight that shone in.

The meal was prepared. The cups began their rounds.

On the river, the drunkenness that had once sobered flared up again, and the conversation immediately gained momentum.

“Well now, Brothers,” Wu Yong began, “I know I keep raising concerns—but why should gathering ten golden carp be so difficult?” “That’s because while you’re versed in scholarship and military strategy, Master,” Ruan Xiao’er retorted, “you’re unacquainted with worldly affairs.” “Hmm… This one has me checkmated.” Wu Yong chuckled dryly. “Still—let’s hear the particulars.” “Thinking every inlet and sea holds every fish just shows your greenness to how things work.” The eldest brother leaned forward, calloused hands gripping his knees. “To speak plain—”

“This all seems terribly elaborate.” “It’s indeed an elaborate tale, Master. This Shijie Lake we use as our fishing grounds is no bigger than a cat’s lick. To haul up even one ten-jin carp, we’ve no choice but to row out to the Liangshan Marsh area you can see over yonder.” “Now that’s what puzzles me.” “Liangshan Marsh’s waters connect directly—you can see it right there.” “Why can’t you fish there?”

“It’s forbidden ground. When it comes to Liangshan Marsh—” “Forbidden ground? This grows stranger still. For what reason—” “Nah, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Surely it can’t be some sacred no-killing preserve?” “Sacred? Get too close and you’ll lose your life! Liangshan’s waters used to be our bread and butter—till those bastards ruined everything. Now we’re stuck in this piss-poor rut, cursing our luck but powerless to change it.” He turned to his siblings. “Ain’t that right?” The brothers exchanged grim looks and sighed in unison.

Wu Yong thought to himself, "This is it." It seemed this very moment held the key to drawing out the brothers' true feelings. Having perceived this, he set down his wine cup, "Hmm... So this decline stems from such a cause? Does that not concern your very lives?" "You three—with physiques stronger and youth more vibrant than ordinary men—why suck your fingers in defeat before such fate? ...Truly baffling. Will you not speak more plainly?"

Even in the small fishing community of Shijie Village, the three brothers who had made their name among men must have felt some resentment when told, "Why do you sit idly by, defeated by such fate?" Thereupon, each brother began indignantly voicing their grievances—which was exactly what Master Jialiang Wu Yong had anticipated.

"...After all, Master. That Liangshan Marsh you speak of is a stronghold of bandits. To put it plainly—it's a den of outlaws who fear neither heaven nor earth. There's no dealing with them." "That's news to me. What sort of men have gathered there?" "Wang Lun, the White-Clothed Scholar, stands as their chief. They say he's some failed scholar who washed out of the capital's official exams. Under him ride notable figures like Du Xuan the Sky-Toucher, Song Wan the Golden Buddha in the Clouds, and Zhu Gui the Dryland Crocodile. With six or seven hundred men at their command, no matter how we grind our teeth, us brothers can't lift a finger against them."

“Hmm… That can’t be helped then. Such an extravagant bandit stronghold?” “Moreover, they’ve recently been joined by a man called Lin Chong—the Leopard Head—a former drill instructor of the Song imperial guards who’s said to wield exceptional skill. These days, even crying infants hush at the mention of Liangshan Marsh.”

“But. “Strange… That too.” “Master, why are you tilting your head?”

"But even in these lowest depths of a corrupt world, we still have the Song Dynasty government above us, with provincial governors and military commissioners across the land. With county magistrates and local officials in every rural area—how could anyone believe such brazen bandits would occupy a corner of Shandong without fearing Heaven's wrath?" "Ah, that's precisely it, Master. These days officials crumble before bribes but bully the people. When they come to villages for tax surveys or incidents, they devour every pig, sheep, chicken and duck in sight. Come nightfall they demand daughters for entertainment, then order tribute loaded on their horses when leaving. Yet let them face even moderately tough bandits or ruffians—all they do is flee. Report a theft or assault? They've never once arrived in time to help."

“How terrible. Is that really true?” “If you think it’s a lie, Master, why don’t you try living around here for a while?”

“I can’t just stand by and watch that.” “Fortunately, where I live lies Chao Gai’s manor—a place that stubbornly refuses to yield.” “Perhaps because of that, things aren’t quite so dire.”

“That’s why you need either wealth or strength to deal with those bastards. These officials only flex their power more when they see honest peasants in vulnerable lands.” “Acting like impoverished lands are their personal paradise. This must be addressed.” “You’re right, Master. It’s not like we’re peeking into officials’ lives out of petty spite—to put it grandly, they divvy up gold by the scale, grab whatever finery they fancy, and feast like kings.” “All of it’s squeezed from people’s tears—makes me seethe with rage.” “We break our backs working, yet why can’t we live half as well? Sometimes it even shames me to admit it.”

“What kind of men are you?!” Wu Yong, the Resourceful Star, seized the moment, his voice sharp with rebuke as he glared fiercely at the brothers’ faces. “Didn’t you just mock those rotten officials as if your very mouths were tainted by speaking of them? With that same mouth, you immediately whine about not being able to live like officials? What spineless complaining! Disgraceful, coming from good men like you!” “Master, we apologize,” they said. “We’ve spilled such worthless complaints and have no face to show you.”

“No need for apologies,” Wu Yong cut in. “I don’t speak from brotherly bias. But why must three such capable men live half-starved…?” “We’re grateful,” Ruan Xiao’er replied for them all. “You’re the only master who’d speak so for us. If there were someone like you – someone bold enough to take on men like us with our skills and grit as a package – but…” He spat sideways. “Ain’t no such soul left in this rotten age.”

“There is.” “Such a person exists, Master?” “Not entirely nonexistent—why not try going to Liangshan Marsh?”

“No way, no way.” The three brothers—all three of them—laughed dismissively while waving their hands. “If we needed such wisdom, Master, we wouldn’t have waited for your advice—we’ve been gazing upon Liangshan Marsh day and night and would’ve tumbled in long ago. But there sits that detestable bastard Wang Lun, the White-Clothed Scholar, as their chief.” “I’ve heard he’s a timid runt of a man—no chivalry, no righteousness in him.” “No matter how starving we get, we ain’t about to follow under some mud-stinking bastard like that.”

“Well said. If a man loses his backbone, he’s no longer a man. Now then—suppose there were someone *here* whom you could truly respect from the heart. If they recognized your worth as men and offered to take you in—what would you do?”

“Ahahaha! That’s impossible!” “Such a person—” “No—if there were such a person,”

“That goes without saying.” “It’s men reaching an understanding with men, right?” “Precisely.” “Then we’d brave fire and flood without hesitation.” “Then let me formally say—there’s someone here I wish to introduce to you three brothers.” “Will you meet him?”

“Who is that?” “Just a few dozen *li* from here lives Chao Gai—the village head of Dongxi Village. I’ve long considered him a man unmatched across Shandong and Hebei.” “Ah! The estate master known as the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King?”

“Do you know him?” “We’ve only heard of him—that he’s a man of deep righteousness, strong chivalry, and remarkable generosity.” “To tell the truth, this errand of mine was requested by Chao Gai himself—I’ve come bearing a particular mission.”

“So what’s this about? Was that talk of needing ten golden carps all a lie?” “A necessary pretext,” Wu Yong replied. “Forgive the deception. Until we could sound the depths of you brothers’ hearts, this was a secret not lightly shared. But now I doubt not one whit of your threefold righteousness.” “What manner of consultation is this?”

“The details will be settled once you and Chao Gai pledge brotherhood over the ritual cup—but to put it bluntly, it’s glorious work: amassing a lifetime’s fortune while chastising a corrupt minister.” “A scheme to achieve both in one stroke—this is Chao Gai’s burning wish, that you three brothers join this venture. …Thus I, Wu Yong, come bearing this invitation.” “Is this truth, Master?”

The brothers' eyes sparkled. Ruan Xiaowu, the Short-Lived Second Son, overwhelmed with emotion, slapped his own neck with an open hand,

“I’ve been waiting,” said Ruan Xiaowu, slapping his neck with an open palm. “This neck was meant for someone who’d know this one’s worth and buy it.” He turned to his eldest brother with fierce devotion crackling in his voice. “Brother.”

“Damn right,” declared Ruan Xiao’er, speaking for his brothers. “If Master here wants this one’s service, I’ve been ready since forever—and now that even Master Chao thinks us worth trusting and needs our strength, there’s no hesitation.” He slammed his palm on the table. “Let’s swear the oath here and now. Lay bare every secret—we may look like river scum, but we’re no backstabbing curs.” Wu Yong leaned forward. “The truth then: On July fifteenth, birthday gifts worth a hundred thousand guan—gold, silver, jewels—will be smuggled from Beijing to Minister Cai, that pinnacle of court corruption.” His fan tapped the map. “Sent by Liang Zhongshu and his wife, who squeeze Daming Prefecture dry—treasures stolen from the people’s very lifeblood through misrule.” A cold smile formed. “Taking them would be Heaven’s own justice. The how—ambushing that convoy—we’ll plot details with Chao Gai and comrades.” He stood abruptly. “Will you come with me to Dongxi Village at once?”

“Of course we’ll go!” Xiao’er and Xiaowu chimed in without hesitation, “Hey, Xiaoxiu! That thing you’ve always gone on about like some dream—it ain’t a dream no more! It’s here for real!” The three brothers became so ecstatic they didn’t know whether to dance or stamp their feet—a joy so fierce they seemed to forget where their limbs should move.

When dawn broke, from early morning the brothers busied themselves with preparations for their two- or three-day journey. With Wu Xueren leading the way, they set out for Dongxi Village.

The moon still hung in the refreshing coolness of early May, while a vernal breeze, as spirited as the hearts of youth, buffeted their sleeves.

They entered Dongxi Village on the afternoon two days later. No doubt owing to the manor's good example, the village roads showed a cleanliness incomparable to places like Shijie Village, with its earthen storehouses and roofs all somehow appearing composed. There beyond the single-gated earthen wall in the distance, beneath the locust tree's shade where Chao Gai himself had been muttering "Will they arrive today too?" while waiting, they soon spotted both him and his dependent Liu Tang the Red-Haired Demon.

Both parties had already spotted each other from afar. “Hey!” “Hey!” They waved their hands as they drew closer together. The Six Stars who had sworn their oath at the altar beyond the gate were now joined by a seventh star.

The details of that night’s banquet need not be described in tedious detail.

Wu Xueren had taken great pains to bring out the three brothers, but he did not speak much of his own merit,

“These are the Ruan brothers this humble scholar recommended. Take a look at them first,” he said with an air of introduction.

Chao Gai had taken an immediate liking to them. Moreover, the three brothers saw within Chao Gai's dignified yet straightforward character what appeared to be profound loyalty and righteousness,

"If associating with such a man meant the very fellowship we'd long craved, then we'd stake our lives on it without regret." They appeared thoroughly smitten already. Liu Tang the Red-Haired Demon—called Red Horse Red Horse—stood undiminished beside Master Wu and Chao Gai, formidable yet untainted by wickedness. He and Short-Lived Second Son Xiaowu made for an ideal pairing. They drank through the night until dawn's light, then snatched but a moment's sleep before morning came.

The six comrades purified themselves through ritual ablutions before lining up before the altar in the inner chamber of the Chao residence. Before the Taoist deities upon the altar, crimson candles burned fiercely while offerings of gold-leaf coins, colored-paper horses, flowers, incense sticks, and a whole boiled lamb were displayed in great variety. It was an oath ceremony. They took earthenware cups and drank sacred wine mixed with fresh sheep's blood, then received the oath document Wu Xueren had drafted, which Chao Gai faced the altar and read aloud.

――It is heard:

Liang Zhongshu, Governor of the Song Dynasty stationed in Beijing, has for many years poisoned the people, wielded authority to govern arbitrarily, and amassed wealth for private gain. Moreover, to the capital mansion of Minister Cai—father-in-law of Lady Cai—they have year after year presented birthday gifts (valuables for birth celebrations), the sums reaching truly enormous amounts. Now, setting the date for this year’s July 15th birthday celebration, they again intend to secretly transport 100,000 guan of ill-gotten wealth to the capital gate of Dongjing. Will Heaven permit this injustice? Thus, we six hereby act on Heaven’s behalf to deliver punishment, thereby bestowing upon the livers and gallbladders of corrupt officials a single gust of gale stained with blood. If anyone breaks this covenant and harbors heresy, let them receive Heaven’s divine punishment without resentment—we hereby swear this before Heaven and Earth. ――Heavenly Deities, we beseech you to bear witness.

“Now… in due order.”

Each of them burned paper coins and took turns worshiping. “Now our oath is complete.” After taking down the offerings, the group resumed drinking in the guest room.

Then, somehow, a tumultuous clamor of voices began to be heard from outside the gate. As Chao Gai was listening intently with a "Hmm?", one of the family servants approached and reported in a rather overwhelmed manner.

“Master, Master. “I deeply apologize for interrupting the banquet, but could you kindly come here for a moment?”

“Shut up! Get back to the guests’ seats. What on earth are they making such a racket about?” “Well, you see… it’s just that there’s this impossibly stubborn mountain ascetic causing trouble.” “A mountain ascetic, you say? These so-called ascetics these days are no good—they swagger around in their fancy outfits but don’t know a damn thing about proper manners or scriptures. They just come into villages now and then to scrounge for food. Shut up! Just give him a sho of millet and drive him away!”

“But he doesn’t even glance at such things.” “Yes.” “Then what’s he begging to receive?” “He’s stubbornly demanding to meet you, Master.” “Don’t be absurd. “I don’t have time to meet every one of those beggars. “Instead of that—you lot gathered a whole crowd of young men, yet can’t handle one person? What kind of sorry state is this?” “You may say that, but please come see for yourself—he spouts things like ‘I am Yiqing Daoren’ or some such, and if anyone so much as touches him, he takes control of them and flings them down one after another.”

“What? He’s putting up a fight?” “He’s just spouting some line he’s been using.” “‘If you lay hands on me, I won’t show mercy!’” “‘I won’t budge from here until I meet Chao Gai!’ he declared—and even when four or five men rushed him at once, he tossed them aside like ragdolls.” “We simply can’t manage him at all.”

Chao Gai finally rose to his feet. "Master, my apologies to the guests, but I must take my leave for a moment." When he went out to the gate to see for himself, a crowd of manor servants were merely forming a distant circle, cowering in fear. Among them were not a few men with injured limbs and wretched expressions. "Where is he, that one?" "Right there, under that locust tree over there, sitting leisurely with a scornful smile on his face."

"Ah, that one?"

Chao Gai strode briskly up to him. The moment he saw Chao Gai, he sprang upright to his feet. He wore a mountain ascetic's short-hemmed white robe and a round-braided belt stained with grime. He carried no pack - instead, an ancient bronze sword hung across his back. His eight-studded hemp sandals marked him as a proper ascetic. He appeared not yet forty years old. His millet-hued face bore a goat-like beard that fluttered from his jawline alone. Though his large mouth and splayed eyebrows gave him an oddly amiable look, his posture stood straight as a solitary pine. What made him truly contemptible was how he waved a tortoiseshell-paper fan to waft air into his robe.

“Taoist, you’re putting on quite the show.” “The ones making a fuss aren’t here. Your hired men here have brought these lumps upon themselves.” “What kind of alms do you seek?” “Must you ask again? I am no beggar.” “Then why aren’t you moving?” “I only wish to meet Master Chao.” “That Chao Gai is me.”

“That Chao Gai is me.” “Oh. You.” “State your business. Make it quick.” “This cannot be said here. It’s a matter of grave urgency. I require a private audience.”

“Then come this way.” “A tree-bound fate deserves tea—let me offer you some.”

With a casual air, he allowed him inside. That said, it was not the inner guest room. Of course, it was a makeshift small room. When ushered to a chair and seated, the Taoist—true to proper etiquette—promptly introduced himself. "I apologize for the disturbance, but I am Gongsun Sheng, my Taoist name being Yiqing." "I was born in Jizhou." "This may sound laughable when I say it, but since childhood I have loved martial arts and made some name for myself by frequenting various dojos—hence being somewhat feared under epithets like 'Taro of Gongsun Sheng' or 'Taro of the Cloud-Soaring Dragon.' Moreover, I have some mastery of Taoist arts—summoning wind and rain at will, practicing methods of concealment and cloud-riding—though I never boast of such things. Now then—"

As he spoke, Gongsun Sheng Yiqing repeatedly stroked his goatee against the grain with his palm. His piercingly narrowed eyes held the chilling gaze of a true Taoist mystic. "Though I have long heard of Village Head Chao's esteemed name, this marks our first meeting. As a token of this occasion, I bring what may seem a modest proposal—a venture worth 100,000 guan in gold and silver." "How might you deign to accept this?"

Upon hearing this, Chao Gai burst into laughter. "Why, that must be the Birthday Gifts heading from the northern regions to the capital, would it not?"

“Wh—?” In astonishment, Taoist Yiqing stared at the man’s face as though trying to bore holes through it. "Strange. How could Master Chao know something no one should?" "How could Master Chao know of something no one should?" “Ha ha ha ha! What are you saying? You’re the one who startled me!” “And why is that?” “Well, I just took a wild guess and spouted some nonsense, that’s all.”

“No—this is precisely what we call divine inspiration,” “You must accept this.” “If we do not take what must be taken, then what? Moreover, these covertly transported Birthday Gifts are ill-gotten wealth—why should we hesitate to seize them?”

Just as Taoist Yiqing was about to press his argument and began to argue— Suddenly, a figure who had pushed open the door and appeared delivered a thunderous shout at him.

“Audacious scheming—I’ve heard every word!” “What?!” Taoist Yiqing sprang back from his chair—only to find Chao Gai and Scholar Wu Yong, who had just entered, roaring with laughter in unison. “Now now, Master Gongsun—no need for alarm.—Allow me to introduce—” “This—” Wu Yong cut in, declaring himself as “Jialiang the Resourceful Star,” then—

“To encounter you here of all places is truly unexpected,” said Wu Yong. “Taoist Yiqing—Gongsun Sheng—your esteemed name has long been known throughout the jianghu.” “So you are Master Wu Yong,” replied Chao Gai, “the Resourceful Scholar Jialiang! The world seems vast yet narrow indeed. As expected, those acquainted with the Chao family prove extraordinary.” “In the inner chamber,” Wu Yong continued, “several others who have today pledged their hearts still gather. Master—shall we have Mr. Gongsun Sheng join their company?”

“If Master permits.” Chao Gai led the way to the inner guest room once more, added another new member, incorporated the three Ruan brothers along with retainer Liu Tang, and thus assembled a gathering of seven individuals there.

“Come to think of it, how strange...”

Chao Gai eventually said, “Not long ago I dreamed of the Big Dipper falling upon my roof and awoke. Could this gathering of seven faces here be an auspicious sign from that dream, foretelling our endeavor’s success?” “Indeed,” Wu Yong nodded.

Scholar Wu nodded.

“This must be the reward for generations of Chao virtue,” said Wu Yong, his voice carrying the weight of celestial confirmation. “An omen most auspicious in every regard. Let Brother Liu infiltrate Beijing Prefecture without delay—have him uncover the convoy’s route through Yellow Mud Ridge, count their guards, identify their commander, and send regular reports.”

“Ah, but regarding that matter—” Gongsun Sheng interjected. “We need not trouble ourselves with inept spies. These matters have already been looked into in advance by this humble one.” “What? You’re already aware?”

“They’re deliberately avoiding back roads this year and seem to be taking Yellow Mud Ridge’s main highway.”

“Then that too is a stroke of fortune. East of Yellow Mud Ridge—about one li away—there’s an acquaintance nicknamed Daylight Rat. It makes an ideal base of operations.”

Thereupon, Chao Gai’s opinion was also presented. “When we carry it out—should we use brute force?” “Or proceed quietly and smoothly?”

“Adapt as the situation demands—” said Wu Yong. “Should they rely on brute strength, we answer with strength. Should they employ cunning, we counter with cunning. The precise details cannot be determined until we stand upon that ground ourselves. Those who go before us must be capable indeed—we cannot afford to be outmaneuvered even in our deepest stratagems.” “Your words ring true,” declared Chao Gai and Gongsun Sheng in unison. “Even a scheme deemed flawless may become your death-trap through the enemy’s adaptability. Let us not grow so enamored with intricate plots that we strategists founder in our own designs! Each must move with fluid grace—appearing and vanishing like spirits!”

There, an agreement was nearly finalized. They drank and made merry until nightfall, and by the next dawn, the three Ruan brothers were already hurrying through breakfast to depart unassumingly back to their original Shijie Village.

“When the time comes, we’ll send word quietly.” “And when that time comes—make sure they don’t slip away.”

“Rest assured.” The three brothers grinned and put on their shoes. Chao Gai presented thirty taels of silver as travel expenses, but they absolutely refused to accept it. Master Wu laughed at their stubbornness, “Don’t cling to that thin pride of yours. Whether you take or reject this bit of silver makes no difference to the Chao family. You’d do better to accept it and settle your tavern debts—that’s the wisest path.”

Thus. The three brothers departed, while Gongsun Sheng and Liu Tang remained as guests at Chao Gai's estate. As for Wu Yong, he stayed at his nearby residence. He returned to his private school and continued posing as a village teacher for local children. Seizing opportunities, he would frequently visit the manor's inner quarters to finalize secret plans unknown to the world during casual tea conversations, then slip back among his schoolchildren with an innocent face.

The disguised caravan of eleven bundles, with Blue-Faced Beast at its head, departed from Beijing.

This was the official residence of Liang Zhongshu in Beijing’s Daming Prefecture.

In the rear garden, the fragrance of yellow roses hung heavy, and along the veranda’s railing, a Persian cat lay sprawled on its belly. The cat pretended to sleep while watching through half-closed eyes as a white Chin dog from Central Asia was catching and tormenting a bee. All these seemed to be the cherished collection of prized possessions amassed through Cai Furen’s leisurely pursuits.

“Oh! The water’s empty again! Who is responsible?!” “Who is responsible?!” “After all my constant harping, the parrot’s water dish has run dry again!”

Now, having stood beneath the parrot’s cage, Cai Furen was summoning maids from the rear chambers with a shrill voice that rivaled the parrot’s own. Then,

“What a racket! Can’t you keep it down a little?”

With that, her husband Liang raised the curtain of the study window and clicked his tongue.

“Oh, so you were there after all? What are you doing there?”

“What do you mean? Just going through some documents,” Liang Zhongshu replied. “If you might spare a moment,” Cai Furen pressed, “would you kindly come to the bench in the garden corridor?” “Good grief,” he clicked his tongue. “Shall I have tea brought instead?” “Do sit here first.” She gestured firmly. “This is a private matter—I’ve dismissed the maids. We’ll take tea afterward.” “What’s this sudden gravity?” “But husband—do you know what day it is? Look at the sky—those are summer clouds overhead!”

“Come to think of it, I hear the first cicadas.” “What nonsense are you saying? Those cicadas started crying twenty days back, I’ll have you know. After all this preparation of Father’s birthday gifts for delivery to the Eastern Capital, what exactly do you plan to do?” “Naturally we must transport them with utmost care to arrive by July fifteenth. But...this selection of a convoy supervisor—I’m still racking my brains over whom to appoint.”

“Didn’t you once say you already had someone in mind for this? Is the person you’ve chosen not suitable?” “Is he unsuitable? Is he qualified? We won’t know until we try him.” “If you need to test him first to know, then doesn’t that mean anyone could figure it out? Ridiculous!” “Hey now—don’t dismiss me outright and speak so loudly! There are guards standing outside the middle gate, I tell you. If they overhear, wouldn’t this Liang Zhongshu be utterly mortified?”

“Oh, right,” Cai Furen continued. “Speaking of soldiers, I’ve just recalled something. What about that commander risen through the ranks—this Yang Zhi they call the Blue-Faced Beast?” “As for Yang Zhi,” Liang Zhongshu responded, “he masters all eighteen martial arts, unmatched among Beijing’s hundred thousand troops. Yet his recent appointment here makes his loyalties... difficult to fully trust. That’s why I remain deeply conflicted.” “If you doubt like this, you’ll find flaws in any man,” she countered. “Besides, haven’t we run out of days? Why not summon Yang Zhi and give him the order?”

“If you consent, then Yang Zhi will suffice.” “No—no matter how much I deliberate, Yang Zhi remains the only choice.” “There can be no one but that Blue-Faced Beast.” “Then have that rung immediately,” commanded Lady Cai, pointing to the summoning bell hanging in the corridor and addressing her husband.

Liang was a man who had risen to prominence through his wife’s father Minister Cai’s influence, and thus even ordinarily could never hold his head high before his wife. Obediently he stood and struck the summoning bell. Then—immediately—the guards beyond the middle gate appeared in the courtyard and saluted. “Summon Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi at once.” “Yes, sir!” The guards withdrew. Soon after their departure, coming to kneel at the foot of the stairs appeared none other than the Blue-Faced Beast himself—the very man who had once made a hundred thousand warriors at Beijing’s Grand Martial Training Ground widen their eyes in awe.

“Yang Zhi. “Having deemed you worthy, I now entrust this critical mission—will you pledge your life to fulfill it?” “I would never refuse a command from my benefactor.” “But whether this Yang Zhi possesses such capability—I must first understand the particulars.” “I require you to safeguard the birthday tribute for Minister Cai—my wife’s father—and deliver it intact to the Eastern Capital.” “Naturally, I shall provide whatever military escort you deem necessary.”

“When are we to depart?” “I will set the departure within the next three days.”

“And the cargo?” “Ten square cargo bundles. For that, I will order the Damingfu office to provide ten Taiping carts. In addition to soldiers, ten strong men shall be selected from the military department and assigned one to each cart... Furthermore, on the yellow flag erected upon every vehicle shall be written: ‘Birthday Gifts for Minister Cai.’ First and foremost, I think you should proceed majestically to dispel the demonic aura of the mountains and wilderness.”

“With all due respect...” “Are you refusing?” “I beg you to entrust this command to another.” “For I have heard that last year’s noble goods worth 100,000 guan were all plundered by bandits along the way.” “That is precisely why I have placed my trust in you this year.” “Moreover...”

Liang grew somewhat excited, licking his dry lips as his eyes clouded with a reddish haze, redoubling his efforts to persuade. "I have your best interests at heart." "That is precisely why I wish to see you promoted by any means." "Do you not grasp this?" "I am deeply honored, but—" "You’re a fool who can’t commit! Alongside the list of offerings for Minister Cai, I mean to include in my personal letter a recommendation for your advancement." "Deliver the Birthday Gifts safely to the Eastern Capital, and your path to glory will assuredly open before you." "What cause remains for hesitation?"

“However, along the long journey lie notorious bandit strongholds and dangerous areas teeming with brigands—places like Purple Mountain, Twin Dragon Mountain, Peach Blossom Mountain, Canopy Mountain, Yellow Mud Ridge, White Sand Cove, and Wild Cloud Crossing.” "I do not wish to meet a dog’s death either." “Still can’t grasp it?” “Take as many soldiers as you need.” “Ah—even with hundreds of soldiers—the moment they hear ‘bandits,’ they’ll scatter like leaves in the wind.”

“What are you saying? Then are you not effectively advising me against sending the Birthday Gifts?”

“Yes. In all honesty, I earnestly wish to advise against it. However, it’s too late to call it off now. …Since there seems to be no alternative, I will resign myself and undertake this task.” “Ah. So you’ve steeled your resolve and will go through with it?” “However, there are conditions—abolish all ostentatious official Taiping carts and flags, repack every gift into portable travel bundles, and disguise all escort soldiers as ordinary porters.”

“This looks exactly like a Shandong merchant caravan.”

“Exactly,” said Yang Zhi. “Having disguised myself as a merchant caravan leader to evade bandits’ notice wherever possible—and since I’ve accepted this charge—I am determined to deliver these gifts safely to Minister Cai’s threshold at Eastern Capital.” Liang Zhongshu nodded brusquely. “You have my trust,” he declared. “Commence departure preparations at once.”

Two days of preparation had passed.

Then, this time, Yang Zhi himself requested an audience with Liang Zhongshu. And he said, "This won't do. This role is ill-suited for this unworthy one. I must humbly decline the mission to the Eastern Capital."

“Why must you persist in this obstinacy again?” “Our agreement appears compromised. Through discreet channels, I’ve learned that beyond the planned travel bundles, Madame has seen fit to add sundry gifts for the minister’s female household members—necessitating the steward Xie and two or three additional retainers to join our company.”

“Ah, so you’re saying they’d be deadweight.” “Not only that—if it’s Madame’s personal steward and retainers, there’s great fear they won’t obey this one’s orders along the way. On top of bandit ambushes, we must be prepared for a thousand *li* of arduous travel and every conceivable hardship.”

“That’s true. Of course, it will be a journey of hardships and trials.”

“As for those in our party—I shall not hesitate to wield the whip and enforce discipline through self-restraint, departing sometimes by night or at dawn’s first light.” “At times we must lie hidden in grass or crawl across scorching sands—yet without authority to execute those who disobey, I could never lead this procession.” “But when it comes to Madame’s steward and retainers—” “No—I shall command even those men to obey you absolutely, same as other porters.” “Should any defy your orders and resist—you may cut them down without hesitation.” “...And I shall personally explain these terms to Madame myself.”

“Then I shall take my leave.” “I humbly request a written authorization bearing your seal to confirm your earlier decree.”

“Very well.” “You shall also prepare and submit to me a receipt for eleven loads of valuables.” “I have taken your instructions to heart.” “With this settled, I shall humbly make departure from Beijing’s West Gate at tomorrow’s early dawn… I humbly request your kind understanding in this matter.”

The Secretariat's official residence was bustling from the still-dark dawn of the following morning.

Disguised as porters, the military guards were all robust stalwart men. Each of them shouldered one heavy travel bundle, and their assembled ranks appeared both imposingly ceremonial and reassuringly formidable. Both Liang Zhongshu and Cai Furen stood at the corridor balustrade to see them off. The couple summoned Steward Xie and repeatedly impressed upon him: obey Yang Zhi's orders without question, avoid quarrels at all costs, and ensure no one fell ill during the journey.

“Please do not concern yourselves.” “This old servant is the eldest among the party.” “I shall skillfully mediate relations as we proceed.” “Commander Yang.” “I humbly ask for your guidance.”

At the foot of the couple’s steps, the two clasped hands and set out.

The entire party numbered seventeen in total. Most were uniformly dressed as porters; however, Yang Zhi and Xie were attired as leaders of the merchant caravan. Wearing Shandong hats for sunshade, sleeveless blue gauze garments over hemp robes with gaiters and hemp sandals—all light and practical—the only weight at their waists being masterwork blades whose very blades seemed to proclaim their craftsmanship. They had already exited into the morning-misted streets and were approaching the exit of the western city gate district. Yang Zhi alone carried a rattan whip in his hand, but then tucked it under his arm, rested his hand on the brim of his Shandong hat, and gazed up at the city gate’s drum tower.

“We, envoys of Liang Zhongshu bound for the capital, now pass through the city gate!” When he called out, a response—“Aye!”—echoed from the drum tower above. At the same moment, the gate guard unit—summoned by this unexpected opening—appeared there in full force, “Clear the way!” With a creak, they pushed open the enormous iron gate to both sides.

By the time May had passed, the continent's sands were already scorching. Summer clouds pierced their eyes with their glare as they loomed high over the horizon; ground heat seeped through the soles of their shoes and scorched the undersides of their feet. The ant-like procession shouldering travel bundles panted while marching, sweat already dripping onto the ground in steady drops. Though they had grown accustomed to casually mentioning Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital in daily conversation, actually setting foot on this thousand-*li* transport route step by step proved no simple matter.—But no—could they even have hoped to overcome this tormenting heat from blazing sun and searing earth?

Neither the Blue-Faced Beast nor his gasping porters knew—nor had they ever dreamed—that beyond the cloud-peaks towering ahead on their path, the extraordinary Seven Stars were lying in wait with eager anticipation, their glint ready to strike.

Seven jujube merchants were laughing and chattering in a grove at Yellow Mud Ridge.

Fifteen or sixteen soldiers disguised as porters. Their shadowy procession crawling daily across the continent's scorching sands resembled labor ants winding under the blazing sun as they transported goods—their toil appearing both pitiful and sluggish. Each of the eleven travel bundles they bore showed no sign of lightness. —All were filled with precious metals and jewels worth 100,000 guan, destined as birthday gifts for Minister Cai. —The sweat they shed each day could not buy even a single pearl from those treasures.

“What’s this—you spineless wretches! The journey ahead still lies a thousand li beyond! What’s the use of faltering now? Keep moving! Keep moving! Hesitate, and I’ll whip your backsides raw!” In Commander Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi’s hand was gripped a rattan whip. The masterwork blade at his waist was no mere ornament—he had been granted absolute authority by Liang Zhongshu, who had declared: “Should any defy your orders along the way, you may cut them down without hesitation.” Even the other attendant—Steward Xie—could voice neither complaints nor grievances to Yang Zhi during this journey.

Be that as it may, ten-odd days had passed since departing Beijing's city gate. In all that time, they had seen rain only twice—mere fleeting torrential downpours accompanied by tremendous thunderstorms. What followed was day after day of journeying under blazing skies. Upon reaching the inn that evening, Yang Zhi issued orders to the sixteen men—the soldiers disguised as porters and Steward Xie.

“Now begins the true journey,” Yang Zhi declared. “Beijing lies far behind us now—the capital ahead remains distant. To speak poetically: a thousand mountains and ten thousand rivers await us. But beyond those loom Erlong Mountain, Taohua Mountain, Sangai Mountain, Yellow Mud Ridge, Baisha Dock, Yeyun Crossing—dangerous passes and bandit strongholds at every turn.” He gripped his whip tighter. “Therefore we must harden our resolve! This is no mere cargo run!”

He hurled this ominous warning,

“Therefore starting tomorrow you may sleep late,” Yang Zhi added. “Sleep through mornings and depart leisurely when you rise. Let this understanding guide your rest.” Yet none of the soldiers brightened at this news. That night when heads touched pillows in travelers’ quarters, whispers slithered through bedding straw. “Mark me—Blue Bruise brews fresh madness.” “That whoreson drives us till we can’t piss straight!” “Aye—what’s his game? First July fifteenth chants like temple bells then sudden dawdling...”

“That’s odd. One moment he’s chanting ‘July 15th, July 15th’ like some spell about reaching the capital by that day, and the next he’s suddenly letting us sleep in and start late in the morning?!”

“Whatever.” “Sleep’s the only paradise we get.” “If we can just manage to keep our lives and reach Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital, there’s no way we’d face this on the return trip.” “In the next life—no way in hell we’re ever becoming soldiers again.”

From the following day onward, mornings began late and evenings saw early stops. Only journeys beneath the blazing sun continued for over ten days thereafter. Had this been all, their grumbling might have lessened. But Yang Zhi’s strategy lay in avoiding bandits and mountain thieves, and with no room for delay before the July 15th deadline, he lashed out even more mercilessly than before during daylight hours to compensate—as one might expect. “What? You want water?” “Endure it. Endure it.” “Water only makes you sweat more.” “Imagine chewing plum fruits in your mouth.”

“That’s impossible. No matter how much you imagine plum fruits, spit won’t come out.” “Still not coming out?” Yang Zhi swung his rattan whip through the air with a whoosh. “Haven’t I let you sleep till you’re sick of it every night? Don’t get greedy.”

“But without breaks like this, we can’t even catch our breath! Let us rest under some shade—we’ll burn up!” “Silence! No summer journey ever turned men into dried provisions.”

“Ugh... My head’s spinning. Commander Yang...” “What now?” “Please, at least let us unpack our lunch. My legs won’t move another step. I’m dizzy...” “Tch. You lot start whining about something every time you spot shade. Do you realize how many days have already passed?”

“Look, he’s starting again.” “We know already.” “If you truly understood, you’d eat while marching! Even one day past July fifteenth would make us miss Minister Cai’s birthday celebration.” “They say a thousand days’ reeds burn in one.” “I’ve lost all will to care.” “Then do you wish to die?” “How pitiful! To think I’ve got a wife and children waiting, yet here I drip this worthless sweat.” “Even with a family back home, I’m still dripping this saltless sweat!”

“Then quit your whining and march! March! Once we reach the capital, gorge yourselves on food and drink—do handstands or whatever else you please, I say.”

“...Ah, if only it would rain!”

However, the unfortunate drought persisted. The midsummer sun burned so fiercely that calling it a fire dragon would have been an understatement. The entire sky resembled molten glass, without a single cloud visible even on this day. That afternoon, the path finally turned onto a mountain trail, but the leaves of every tree hung withered, the wind lay lifeless, valleys stood dry despite their forms, rocks lay parched and cracked, with not one drop of clear water trickling anywhere.

“Ah, we’ve reached one of the Taihang Mountain peaks now.” Even Yang Zhi, carrying no load himself, gasped for breath. The jagged mountainscape grew steeper with each step upward, the rain-washed path now resembling a dry riverbed. Myriad trees stood like planted blades, their rustling evoking roars of tigers and leopards. Yang Zhi—who had paused absently to contemplate their journey thus far and what lay ahead—suddenly noticed Steward Xie below him: the eleven porters and remaining soldiers had all collapsed against a ridge’s back slope—

“It’s no use.” “Do whatever you want!” “Even if you tear me eight ways to Sunday, I ain’t budgin’.”

“Go ahead, do your worst!”

At this, they all unloaded their cargo from their backs—some stretching out flat, others flopping onto their backs—having now resolved to abandon themselves to recklessness, their bodies immovable even with a lever. “Ah! You good-for-nothings!” “You good-for-nothings!” Yang Zhi turned around, and the moment he noticed their desperate attitude, he rushed over and cracked his whip as usual. “Who gave you permission to rest?” “I can’t take my eyes off these wretches for even a moment.”

“Now, now,” interjected Steward Xie of the Liang household, stepping in to mediate.

“However you justify it, refusing even a noon rest in this scorching heat is too cruel.” “Commander Yang.” “Please don’t rage so fiercely.” “Steward.” “Did you authorize their rest?” “There’s no authorizing involved—they collapsed naturally once we climbed up here.” “Even for me, bearing more than this would feel like vomiting my very organs.” “Well, resting here half an hour surely wouldn’t make us miss the birthday date.”

“If someone as reasonable as you says that... why would Yang Zhi alone choose to endure this brutal march while drawing everyone’s hatred? But tell me—do you know where we are?”

“Therefore, we’ve already reached one of the peaks of the Taihang Mountains. Once we cross this ridge—” “What’s this carefree nonsense?” “Is that incorrect?” “No—precisely because you’re right does this become absurd! I’ve been surveying the terrain—this is Yellow Mud Ridge itself, a place notorious for bandit hauntings that unsettle even hardened men. Let your guard down here, and you might find yourself swept up in a demonic sandstorm without warning!”

Then, the porters—who had already steeled their resolve and grown audacious— “Ahahahaha! Here we go again with Commander Yang’s lectures.” “Day after day we’ve been scared stiff by that kinda talk, I tell ya.” “If ghosts show up in broad daylight like this, that’d be a hoot.” “What’s all this talk about experience? Let’s just see those bandits show their faces!” “Bastard!” Yang Zhi took an angry step toward them and roared. “You bastards—even your whining complaints spout that this grueling labor’s for your wives and children!” “If calamity strikes, what then?” “You’ll lose not just your reward—you’ll be lucky to keep your lives!” “As supervisor, I’ve been forcing myself to be heartless to prevent even the slightest blunder.” “Don’t you understand?” “This is tough love—”

“Heh heh.” “…Can’t say I get this ‘tough love’ nonsense.”

“You wretch!”

As Yang Zhi revealed his true ferocity and began drawing the machete at his waist, Steward Xie, aghast, hastily stepped in to block his path.

“Wait!” interjected Steward Xie of the Liang household, stepping in to mediate. “Young Yang, you’re still green behind the ears. That temper of yours will ruin everything.” “No—let go!” Yang Zhi snarled, his true ferocity emerging. “These wretches don’t know what happens when I truly lose my temper. To set an example, I’ll cut off one of their heads right here!” “Then who exactly,” Xie countered, “do you suppose will carry that missing porter’s load afterward? Count me out of that madness.”

“A single load can be handled somehow. What’s crucial is rigorously maintaining the entire group’s morale. Old man, keep quiet.” “No—I can’t stand to watch this. With such single-minded fervor, how could you possibly unite the hearts of fifteen men? Harmony is indispensable. Alas, Mr. Yang here has never tasted true hardship.” “Don’t spout nonsense! I too have some experience in wandering. I’ve traveled through Sichuan, Guangxi, and Guangdong as well.” “If it’s just a regular trip, anyone can do that.”

“What nonsense—the world today is a dark, apocalyptic age wherever you look.” “In this turbulent, tangled era, I’ve endured the hardships of wandering through its chaos.”

“Hey, Commander Yang.”

“What is it?” “You may speak freely in these deserted mountains—but curb your reckless tongue.” “How dare you call this an apocalyptic age while enjoying Commander-in-Chief Liang’s patronage and Beijing Prefecture’s stipend?” “To claim this isn’t an age of peace—what heresy is this?” “That tongue might get plucked from your mouth.” At this, even Yang Zhi froze mid-retort.

What lies in one’s heart will, on some impulse, escape one’s lips unbidden—such is human nature. He regretted it—but it was already too late to take back. Even if he managed to accomplish the great task of transporting Minister Cai’s birthday gifts, if later Xie were to whisper such slander into the ears of their superiors, it would all come to nothing.—The realization that he had erred struck him suddenly, and Yang Zhi’s visage weakened slightly.

And then—

In his bewildered gaze, something like a bird's shadow abruptly passed by in the distance. In the shade of the pine grove just ahead. "Ah! A suspicious man!"

Yang Zhi suddenly shouted toward that spot.

The bitter aftertaste of being harshly cornered by Xie in their verbal clash, along with all lingering emotions from that confrontation—everything seemed to vanish instantly at that single shout. For Yang Zhi, this might have been a fortunate diversion. Whatever he glimpsed made him dart forward with startling speed, pursuing the shadowy figure that had slipped into the distant pine grove.

Though he lost sight of the man’s shadow fleeing like a hare between the pines, Yang Zhi instead encountered an unexpected group of traveling merchants. They had set up camp in a cool, flat area of the pine grove, parking seven Jiangzhou carts—hand-pushed wagons loaded with barrels—here and there. Seven people, young and old, sat in casual postures: some cross-legged, others sprawled on the ground, and a few perched on tree roots or cart shafts, each at ease in their own way. And they seemed to jest playfully while wiping each other’s sweat under the blazing sun.

“Huh?!”

They all jumped up in unison. They seemed startled by Yang Zhi’s appearance. “Who the hell are you lot?”

As he dashed closer, Yang Zhi demanded,

“Who’re you?” “And who’re you?!” they parroted back again. “I’m the one asking where you lot hail from and what your names are!”

“Hmph. We’re asking what backwater you crawled out of,” they retorted. “Hah… I’ve heard those villains often show up around Yellow Mud Ridge—so you’re them?” “Don’t mock me!” Yang Zhi shot back. “You’re the ones who fit that description!”

“Seems someone important’s got high hopes for us, I guess.” “Unfortunately, we’re just petty merchants—a mix of youngsters and old-timers.” “Now then, what about you?”

“I’m actually a merchant from Kaifeng. I’m transporting goods like furs purchased in Hubei, using porters to carry them, on my way to the capital. Hearing this area was dangerous, I came prepared—and just now, a strange man with shifty eyes was watching us from the shade of the pine grove. Suspecting something, I gave chase.” “Ha ha ha!” “Ah ha ha ha!” The seven men roared with laughter,

“That’s one hell of a cat-and-mouse game,” “We were cooling off here too when sixteen or seventeen roughnecks came hauling something from the northern foothills.” “One of our boys got spooked—‘Yellow Mud Ridge’s infamous bandits are upon us!’—and went scouting first... Turned out they weren’t villains after all, so we just settled back to beat the heat.”

“Hmm,” Yang Zhi found himself drawn in, smirking as he said: “So we’re both fellow merchants then.” “Well now, that’s fortunate.” “And what’s your trade?” “Take a look at these barrels.” “Ah. Pickled jujubes.” “You deal in jujubes?” “They’re nothing special back home, but city connoisseurs swear there’s no better wine snack. Seven of us partners hauled these from Haozhou—but blast this heat! These barrels might as well be stewing pots.” “Money doesn’t come easy for any of us, eh?”

“Exactly.” “Money’s the enemy, or something like that.” “How about it, sir? If you’d like, we could give you a few jujubes.” “No, I don’t need any. But I appreciate the offer.”

Yang Zhi returned to where his own group was camped, wearing a bitter smile. As soon as Steward Xie saw him, he quipped sarcastically. “Convoy Commander Yang. How did your prized blade perform?” “Nah, I thought they were bandits—turned out just petty merchants.”

“Huh. Given your go-to line, I’d have thought no decent folk would show up around these parts.”

“Let’s stop with the needling.” “You’re quite persistent, old man.” “Oh, come now.” “Now that’s more like it—at least we can first express our satisfaction.” “Well?” “I’ve already gone and opened my leftover lunch.” “Why don’t you take a breather too, given how things stand?” “Oh well—let’s just say we got caught in today’s rain.” “Hey everyone—rest! You may rest now.” This proved rather ill-advised for Yang Zhi. There lingered a sense of him masking embarrassment. Since the soldiers had already settled on taking unauthorized breaks through their chummy rapport with Steward Xie, Yang Zhi’s whip ultimately had no choice but to concede defeat to both the group’s solidarity and their audacious indolence.

Furthermore, one might say the timing was just right.

From somewhere, a country song could be heard. It was a man’s voice. With a rhythmic “Hyo, hyo, hyo…”, the song’s cadence matched perfectly with the stomping feet of load-bearers keeping time. All the soldiers turned to look at the slope behind them. A man could be seen approaching, carrying a barrel... The pungent smell of distilled liquor struck their nostrils. “Hey, wait up!”

The words had slipped out before they knew it.

The man put down his load.

“Hey, can I help you?” “Seems like that’s distilled liquor.”

“Exactly as you’ve guessed.”

“Where you taking that?” “To the village over yonder mountain. They’re having their summer festival day after tomorrow.”

“Can’t you sell some here?” “That’s exactly why I’m hauling ’em! Hey now—depending on the price, I might part with a barrel or two.”

"How much for one barrel?" "I'll lower it to five guan for you. Since this is still the halfway point, I won't charge a transportation fee."

The soldiers furtively huddled their heads together. Their eyes were like those of starving demons with morsels dangled before their noses. Their throats rumbled. Their noses twitched. Finally, they began jingling coins. They pooled their funds and seemed to have reached a decision to buy. Yang Zhi, who had been glaring fiercely all along, suddenly drew his mountain cleaver—sheath and all—from his waist, strode over, and struck the barrel with the pommel of his blade. “You bastards—planning to buy this? Planning to buy and drink it?”

“The money’s ours, y’know!”

“Never mind the money—whose permission did you get? Don’t push your luck, you bastards.” “It’s not about pushing luck, sir. If you’re human too, you’d understand. Our pride’s worn thin, our patience... If we don’t drink after seeing this, these cravings’ll cling to us—we won’t even be able to stand up.” “Don’t mock me—whining like starved ghosts! Dig out your earwax and listen! Even on regular travels, one doesn’t slobber so shamelessly over roadside swill! Countless fools have been cleaned out through paralyzing drugs thanks to such vile greed—don’t you know anything? Useless wretches!”

Then, rather than the scolded soldiers, it was the liquor seller who narrowed his eyes sharply. Hmph... He snorted derisively through his nose, then immediately hoisted the carrying pole onto his shoulder.

“Hey, you’re in the way! Get away from the barrels.” “This ain’t funny one bit!” “Who’d sell paralyzing drugs in this scorching heat? Ridiculous!” This was all part of the stratagem to seize the Birthday Gifts. Meanwhile, Yang Zhi peered into death’s valley. The liquor seller’s feigned remark had been directed at Yang Zhi from the start, yet it seemed to further inflame the soldiers’ delusions. “Wait—” “Hey—” “We went through all that trouble collecting the coins…”

“Nuh-uh, nuh-uh!” “Ain’t sellin’ no more!” “See ya!” “C’mon, no need to blow your top.” “Even if he says that, our commander’s a man who gets the bigger picture—even has a heart for folks’ troubles.”

“Suit yourselves!” “You go picking apart a man’s wares and call yourselves reasonable people?” “If this were in a market or village, they wouldn’t take it lying down, I tell ya!” He seemed absolutely furious. His demeanor grew increasingly menacing.

Just then, from the shade of a distant pine grove, the group of date merchants came rushing noisily over. And in unison,

“What’s this? What’s this?”

they chorused in farcical unison. Despite the commotion, every pair of eyes gleamed with a kind of curiosity.

“Whoa, dangerous! What’s got you so worked up, liquor seller? Aren’t you gonna set those barrels down?” “Oh! You’re the merchants who stayed at the mountain’s foot last evenin’. Well listen up—this’ll make your blood boil!”

“Oh? After hearing your argument with these folks over there, we thought, ‘Ah! Real bandits have finally shown up this time!’ and came running in a panic.” “Well, if it’s just a quarrel, that’s a relief.” “Not good, not good. Squabbling like this—” “You needn’t tell me.” “There weren’t no quarrel started here, but when they go spoutin’ such belittling nonsense, my temper just flared up... Accusing me of putting paralyzing drugs in my wares!”

“Who? Who’d make such a ridiculous accusation?”

“It’s that sir over there, stubbornly planted with a face like a green chili pepper.” “I come from a family of honest liquor sellers for generations, but I ain’t never had a day as rotten as this, I tell ya.”

“Enough already, cut it out. You don’t need to get so worked up—they’ve gone silent now, so they’re probably regretting their harsh words deep down. …More importantly, we’re all parched here—let everyone have a cup each.” “No way! Not a chance!”

“Why? You’re being stubborn too. We ain’t askin’ for free drinks!” “I know that already! But I don’t need to do business in a place like this – my family’s regulars keep us plenty busy.” “You’re mockin’ me!” “Don’t talk nonsense. We ain’t the ones findin’ fault here.” “You’re one odd duck yourself.” “Come on, sell us some to smooth things over. A liquor seller’s trade needs some backbone, don’t it?”

“When you folks tell me to cheer up, well, Yours truly here’s a fool, so I end up wantin’ to give it away for free. But unfortunately, there ain’t no cups.”

“Alright then. If it’s cups you need, they’re over there.”

Two of their companions from the date merchant group ran toward the cart. What they brought were two coconut shell bowls. One of them came back with heaping piles of pickled dates on both palms.

They spread them out on the barrel lid, “Here’s the snacks!”

Seven men surrounded the liquor barrel. Taking turns, they drew the distilled liquor into coconut shell bowls and began drinking with evident relish. Then they crunched on the dates. In an instant, one barrel of distilled liquor had been drained dry. "Ah, this hits the spot! "Must be the mountain air—can't tell if it's ambrosia or what!" "We've clean forgotten the sweltering heat!" "Hey now! "You're all merry as crickets, but we still ain't haggled over the price!" "Liquor seller! We've drained a whole barrel—what's the damage?"

“Ten kan per barrel.” “Since it’s half a barrel, that’ll be five kan.” “Alright then. “Here’s five kan.”

As one man was handing over the money, another man— "—Throw in one more bowl."

With that, he took off the lid of the half-empty barrel, thrust his bowl inside with practiced speed, and began gulping down a mouthful. The liquor seller spun around— “Oh crap!”

He suddenly tried to snatch the bowl of liquor still half remaining. However, the small merchant holding the bowl nimbly dodged and escaped into the pine grove. Then the liquor seller too, stubborn as ever— “Damn it!”

As if spurred by his own shout, he gave chase. Then those who had stayed behind seized this fresh opportunity, swarming around the breached barrel with yet another coconut shell bowl. When the liquor seller suddenly turned around again, his face registered utter shock. “Thieves!”

The moment he rushed back, he desperately snatched the bowl. And then, toward their fleeing backs,

“You fools! You fake-kindness, farting swindler bastards! Go die in a ditch!” he snarled venomously.

The soldiers who had been watching from earlier couldn’t muster a laugh and were just dryly gulping down their saliva. Grudges over food are inherently serious matters. To say nothing of their unbearable thirst in this scorching heat—having such tantalizing sounds drummed right under their parched noses was more than they could endure. They fell into a gloomy silence, glaring with bitter resentment at Yang Zhi’s back where he sat in the distance, until finally unable to hold back any longer, they raised their voices in unison and pleaded with Steward Xie.

“Mr. Steward,” “We’ll be in your debt!” “Please beg Commander Yang for us just this one time—there’s still more mountain paths ahead, and even if we reach the pass, there’ll be no drinking water there.” “Could you tell him to let us buy and drink that remaining half-barrel?” “Our stomachs are growling so loud we can’t stand it anymore!” Steward Xie privately shared their desire. Yet unable to openly agree, he moved toward Yang Zhi as if burdened by their pleas. He strove to advocate for them. His tone implied: If you dislike this, simply pretend not to notice.

“Tch. What a wretchedly base lot.” Yang Zhi bitterly resented this, but he reasoned that it would be disastrous if either this old steward or the soldiers were to reach the capital and spread embellished accounts of his earlier slip of the tongue. Moreover, he considered that allowing them to harbor further resentment would be unwise for the remainder of their journey. That was one reason, and furthermore, from what he had observed earlier, there had been nothing suspicious about the two barrels of distilled liquor either. And so, with a reluctant expression,

“...There’s no help for it.” “If even you insist, I’ll turn a blind eye—just for today.” “In return, once they’ve quenched their thirst, they must set off energetically from here.”

“Ah! Have we your gracious consent?” “The soldiers must be hopping like sparrows.” “Rejoice, everyone! Permission’s been granted—permission!” It proved meaningless—old Steward Xie himself hopped about like a sparrow. The moment he fluttered back to where the soldiers and liquor barrels stood, he let out a jubilant cry. “No way! No way! Ain’t sellin’ to you lot.” “Ain’t sellin’ to you lot.” The soldiers burst into cheers, but the liquor peddler began his obstinate act anew. “Better off makin’ festival crowds happy back in the village than wastin’ time on this dull detour.” “Move aside now! Move aside!” “Ain’t my cursed day today.”

“Still angry?” “Quit this already—we’ll say sorry!”

“Shut up! I don’t need any apologies from you lot.” “You’re stubborn as hell.” “Yeah I’m stubborn. Too bad.” “Look… After we’ve scraped together coins and are begging on our knees like this, it’s criminal to leave us stranded!” “Won’t you let go? What a nuisance. Fine! If you’re that desperate, take the damn thing!” “That won’t do. Five guan—we’ll leave it right here.” “It isn’t five guan.”

“Huh? Raising the price?” “Don’t think I’m a fool. Since that date merchant earlier helped himself to a few bowls from the remaining barrel, I have no choice but to lower the price by however much he drank.” “Four guan will do.” “Just take back one guan.” “Well, aren’t you the honest one.” “Gotta hand it to ya—real upstanding citizen!”

The soldiers picked up coconut bowls lying nearby and formed an orderly circle around the barrel, earnest faces gathered in anticipation. Lips smacked. Throats tightened. Praise, exclamations, drool of delight. It was indeed a scene of heavenly nectar surrounded by ravenous ghosts. “Hey! Enough already, you lot up front!” “Who’d leave the steward for last?” “Here... Steward, sir—have a cup too.”

“Truly, this is fine distilled liquor. “Mmm, delicious.” “Let’s offer a bowl to Commander Yang as well.” However, Yang Zhi made no move to drink. To begin with, he was never much of a drinker. But even he shared the same parched thirst. Before long, the barrel was nearly empty,

"Should I take a sip?" With that, he drank about half a cup's worth.

“Thank you ever so much… Thanks to you lot, I can now make my way back down to the foot of the mountain!” “Hahaha!” “Well then, everyone, enjoy your fine day!”

After exchanging pleasantries, the liquor seller shouldered his empty barrel and briskly walked away down the slope he had come from.

At this moment, at the edge of a pine grove some distance away, the faces of the seven date merchants were fixed in this direction, like seven stone statues that did not so much as blink.

And then—from far down the slope where the liquor seller had vanished, a rustic folk song drifted up. That must have been the signal. Suddenly, the seven conspirators roared with laughter in unison and clapped their hands. "How about that! This went perfectly!" "As expected of Master Wu Yong, the Resourceful Star—our modern-day Zhuge Liang! Everything followed your script to the letter." "Serves you right, you lackeys of the wicked officials!" "Drop dead, drop dead. Rest easy!" "Alright! Let's start loading up right away!"

In an instant, the seven figures emerged from beneath the pine grove's shade, each pushing a Jiangzhou cart (hand-pushed cart), and boldly swarmed toward where Yang Zhi, the steward, and their seventeen men lay. They swiftly dumped all the jujube preserves from the carts into the valley below. Then, replacing them, they loaded two or three of the eleven bundles—which the porters had earlier set down and arranged on the ground—onto each cart, and no sooner had they done so than they draped cloth covers over them completely.

“There, it’s done! Let the wilderness claim what remains.”

“Now they’re just offerings for crows and wild beasts.” “So long, so long!” It was precisely the tone of a victory hymn. Naturally, the gold, silver, and jewels meant to be presented from Grand Secretary Liang and his wife to Minister Cai had now been diverted here. Yet beneath the cloth covers of the seven Jiangzhou carts—where could this hundred thousand guan of treasure possibly be vanishing to?

"Huh? ...Ah... Aah." Yang Zhi helplessly witnessed it all with his own eyes. And yet, there had been nothing he could do about it. Thud—a hollow sound echoed in his head. Though his eyes perceived it, the optic nerves failed to relay it to his brain. His fingers clawed at the grass roots, but all they achieved was to let drool cascade onto the backs of his hands. His waist felt as heavy as lead, and only chills raced through his entire body. His mouth twisted; his voice remained mere sound, failing to form words.

"The steward? "What about the soldiers?"

Faint bubbles of thought stirred in his head.

Once, he raised his forehead from where it had been pressed against the ground and looked around with bleary eyes.

Every last one of them looked like dead fish thrashing on a tidal flat. Not a single one was in a satisfactory state. Strange, mute-like cries of "Ah! Ah!" and bizarre bodily contortions alone filled the surroundings at intervals. "F... futile..." Clutching at empty air, Yang Zhi tried to rise—but collapsed with a heavy thud the next instant. Dazed, he retained not a shred of consciousness thereafter.—Thus, after one ke or two, when he suddenly regained awareness, the July 2nd moon in a corner of the Taihang Mountains honed its clarity until it resembled a demon's fang.

Who in the world were those seven date merchants disguised as? There was surely no need to explain here, but if one must state it plainly—they were none other than those very individuals. They were none other than seven people: Chao Gai of Dongxi Village; Liu Tang, the Red-Haired Demon who lived on others' charity; Master Wu Yong from the same village; the river fishermen of Shijie Village—the three Ruan brothers—whom Master Wu had drawn into their ranks; and Gongsun Sheng, also called Yiqing.

No—there was one more, an additional, unnumbered member.

This one was quite the performer. Namely, he was the man who had disguised himself as the liquor seller and given a fine performance—Bai Sheng, the White-Day Rat, a loafer residing in a village near Yellow Mud Ridge. Due to Chao Gai’s usual patronage of him, Bai Sheng’s house had been chosen as the gang’s hideout, and he himself had taken on a role in their scheme—that was how it came to be. Now, next—the procedure by which the paralyzing drug had been administered—this, too, was part of an exceedingly elaborate scheme. At the outset, the seven conspirators first emptied one of the barrels. And then, they paid the money.

In that moment, it was Red-Haired Demon Liu Tang who opened the lid of another barrel and drank half a bowl without permission. Liu Tang fled; Bai Sheng, playing the role of the liquor seller, gave chase.

In their absence, The remaining group again began vying without permission to drink from the remaining barrel. Some drank demonstratively. Bai Sheng, the White-Day Rat acting as the liquor seller, returned in shock; under the guise of a tangled scuffle, Master Wu Yong slipped through, swiftly poured the paralyzing drug into a bowl, and with his own hand attempted to draw wine from the barrel. In that instant—as if by magic—the paralyzing drug had already been stirred throughout all the wine in the barrel.

After that, the whole group fled noisily. The liquor seller hurled the seized bowls and unleashed a torrent of curses. With this, the scheme’s threads had come to an end; in later ages, this dramatic episode would be dubbed the "Birthday Gifts Stratagem."

×　　　　　　　　　×

"Huh? ... Me?" Suddenly regaining his senses, Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi looked down at his own form and gazed up at the shadow of the crescent moon in the ominous sky. "So that's it. I was tricked. 'I won't be tricked, I won't be tricked'—even as I thought this, I too finally fell into an unforeseen trap." As if unable to bear the shame, both hands clutched at the roots of his hair. Silent tears of bitter regret streamed down his cheeks.

"How could I ever return alive to Beijing? Farewell then—this body that even the capital will not accept. Yes, to throw myself from the cliff into the valley, become a ghost of Yellow Mud Ridge, and let travelers through the ages tell tales of such a fool—that would at least bring an end to this existence. There was no other path left to take." Staggering, he began to walk, dragging a spectral shadow.

The other sixteen shadows lay silent, still prostrate upon the ground. The reason he alone had regained his senses so quickly was likely because he had consumed only about half a bowl of that poisoned wine. But now, for one standing upon death’s rocky precipice, even that could hardly be considered mercy. "Thirty-odd years since I was born. Am I to die like this? What on earth was I even born for?" The instant Yang Zhi peered down into death’s valley, the scroll of his past thirty years unfurled within his chest like lightning.

The visages of his parents appeared. The voices of younger siblings could be heard. His martial arts teacher, his reading teacher, all beings between heaven and earth that had nurtured him, every living thing that had ever aided his existence—they seized his sleeves tightly. Why die? "Death is easy, but life will not come again"—he felt as though they were holding him back. Ah, how terrifying. Is a death without meaning truly this terrifying? After all, I don’t want to die. "I want to find meaning—whether it be death's meaning or life's."

He suddenly leapt back from the rocky outcrop. As if escaping Death’s maw, when he returned to where he had been before, there lay sixteen ugly shadows still rolling their eyes and foaming at the corners of their mouths. “B-bastards!”

A voice from his entire being burst forth involuntarily. Then suddenly, a surge of heat rushed through him,

“Alright, I’m not dying. There’s no way I’ll die here with these bastards! My life wasn’t meant to be such a cheap thing. In the days to come, capturing today’s bandits would be one mission—and as for how to spend what remained of my life? That was a matter for later. That too is a battle to be fought once I’m alive.”

When he suddenly noticed, his own sword—which had gone missing from his person—lay fallen on the ground. He picked it up, laid it at his waist, and looked up at the sky where a flock of night birds could be seen descending diagonally. Interpreting this direction as a divination of heaven’s will, Yang Zhi staggered down toward the foothills, not knowing where the path led.

That night too, when it had grown quite late, At one edge of Yellow Mud Ridge, finally, the steward and the porters and soldiers too, revived by the cold night dew, scrambled to crawl up,

“Well, what should we do?”

They were muttering in belated realization of their blunders.

“Yang has fled!” Steward Xie, having shelved his own mismanagement, proceeded to berate that very act most vehemently.

“Now that I think about it, that bastard might’ve caught wind of the poisoned wine.” “No—we’ll pin everything on this scenario.” “Mark my words, you lot!”

“This isn’t our fault, is it?” “If we tell the truth, we’ll all lose our heads.” “So we’ll strike first—at dawn, we’ll file charges at the local magistrate’s office.” “Understood?” “Yes—how should we proceed?” “We’ll lay everything at Yang Zhi’s feet—make it all his scheme.” “Say he conspired with Yellow Mud Ridge bandits, sweet-talked us into drinking poisoned wine, then robbed all the Birthday Tribute treasures clean before vanishing.” “Got it?” “Wherever they question you—keep your stories matched and never waver!”

“Understood.” “We’ll make sure that bastard’s buried in blame—we’ll settle it just like that.” “You lot may be kept as living witnesses at the local magistrate’s office, depending on the circumstances.” “However, I shall race day and night back to Beijing Prefecture and report the details of this affair to His Excellency Liang Zhongshu.” “Of course, His Excellency’s fury would be that of a raging fire.” “Immediately, couriers will race from His Excellency to Minister Cai in the capital, and without a doubt, strict orders for the bandits’ arrest will also be issued to the Jizhou Magistrate Office.”

――Now then, what had happened to Yang Zhi on the other hand? He had no inkling that such an underhanded scheme had been concocted in his absence.

Still half in a daze—where and how he had walked that night... However, when dawn broke, he had descended south from Yellow Mud Ridge and was walking aimlessly further south along the road.

“Right... Damn it!” Because he had once been resolved to die, he had abandoned the entire bundle containing government travel funds, transit permits, and consignment documents—leaving him without a single coin. “How ironic—now that I’m alive, I realize I’m starving! Well, I’ll manage somehow. At least I won’t have to beg.” He approached a village. His stomach now wailed in protest. And so, blindly,

“Excuse me.”

With that, he found himself stepping inside. It was a common rural tavern. A friendly-faced woman came out and asked for his order. He had meat stir-fried and ordered rice. Having entered the tavern—perhaps thinking it would be impolite not to drink—in the meantime,

“And a bit of wine…”

he said with a look that suggested he could drink. The woman seemed like a diligent housewife, but her manner of pouring drinks was practiced. Since he wasn’t a drinker, the Blue-Faced Beast began to flush like a Flame-Faced Beast. He ate the meat, stuffed down the rice, deliberately grasped his field sword again, and rose to his feet. He had somewhat regained his composure from the night’s disarray—his gait, the look in his eyes—and had finally returned to his true self. “Oh, sir. “You can’t just walk out without paying!”

“What?” “What’s your problem?” “Your payment, please.” “Ah, right.” “That’s how it was.” “You must be joking!” “The truth is, I’m broke.” “But I’m a man—I’ll definitely come back and pay someday.” “Don’t be absurd—you’re just some traveler!” Yang Zhi paid no heed. The woman shouted. And then, persistently, endlessly, the sight of her chasing after him— “Shut up!”

With a single glare, he stared her down, and then—

He let out a loud, solitary laugh—"Ha ha ha!"

“Ma’am, ma’am. Don’t corner this man so pitilessly. Even one such as I was born to a proper family and once held minor titles. I’ll surely return to pay—just let this debt stand for today.”

Then, from behind the woman,

“Cut the crap.” “You’re a habitual dine-and-dasher, aren’t you?” “Hey! Everyone, get over here! Beat this vagrant senseless!” A young man’s voice rang out. This might be the woman’s husband. Holding a trident, he carried himself with the vigor of someone rushing to a fire. In response to his voice, neighbors, comrades, and peasants—all armed—swiftly surrounded Yang Zhi from front and back, showering him with vulgar curses. “Well, well. “Quite the crowd you’ve gathered.”

Yang Zhi’s drunken eyes surveyed the surroundings, and even he himself wore a look of disbelief at the overblown turn of events. “A single breakfast has turned into such a commotion." “Seems I’d forgotten to account for this in the cost of survival too." “Well, since it’s come to this, there’s no other way." “Shall we settle this account with fists?”

Two heroes met at the foot of Twin Dragon Mountain, followed by the affair of Flower Monk Lu Zhishen.

“Wait, wait! ――Everyone, step back!” The man who appeared to be the woman’s husband—suddenly restraining the crowd of villagers for reasons unclear—scrutinized his opponent from head to toe and barked: “Hey, Dine-and-Dash General. ――I swear I’ve seen you somewhere before.” “Oh, I’ll give my name if you want.” “Let’s hear it then!”

"I’ve never lied about my name. I’ll say it plain—listen well. I am Yang Zhi, the Blue-Faced Beast." "The Blue-Faced Beast?!"

“Whoa, why’re you making such a weird face all of a sudden?” “If you mention that… could it be you once served at Kaifeng Tokyo’s Palace Command?” “That’s right. That’s the fallen state of Commander Yang.” “Wh-wh-what’s this…,” stammered the man, throwing down the trident in his hand. “I had no idea who you were—please forgive this outrageous rudeness!” “Well, well. The winds have taken a strange turn.” Being told even about his ancient lineage and former status, Yang Zhi must have blushed a little. Naturally, he couldn’t help but reveal his true nature.

“And who might you be?” “This one was born in a Kaifeng merchant household—the son of a family that’s run a butcher shop for generations. Cao Zheng is the name.” “I see. No wonder you deliver such crisp retorts for a country bumpkin.” “Oh, I’m deeply ashamed. Back in the capital, this one became a disciple of Master Lin Chong—the Imperial Guard instructor—and dabbled in staff techniques. People even nicknamed me ‘Cao Zheng the Blade Demon,’ and I grew quite full of myself… Later, I went to Shandong on business to take over my father’s work, squandered all the capital, fell into the underworld, and now here I am—proprietor of this rustic tavern.” “The one who just confronted you is none other than this one’s wife.”

“Oh, so that’s how it was.” “That was really my bad.”

“In any case, would you kindly return with us? If things stay like this, even my wife will be left with a bitter aftertaste. That just won’t do.” Cao Zheng and his wife had invited Yang Zhi into their family tavern, so the neighbors who had gathered for the commotion soon slipped away to who knows where.

Contrary to expectations, Yang Zhi ended up spending several days in a room at the village tavern under the care of Cao Zheng and his wife. During that time, it goes without saying that he had disclosed everything—both the monumental calamity he had encountered at Yellow Mud Ridge and his current desperate plight of having nowhere in the world to take refuge.

“Ah… So that’s how it was.” “Trying to safely deliver ‘Birthday Gifts’ worth a hundred thousand guan from Beijing to the capital in this starved world—the whole scheme was doomed from the start.” “Ah, don’t you fret—whatever comes, we’ll hide you here. For now, just rest up and regain your strength.”

“Thank you.” “But having bandits steal [the shipment] remains my failure through and through. Both Grand Secretary Liang in Beijing and Minister Cai in the capital might be suspecting this Yang Zhi of worse crimes.” “After all—I’m wanted across the realm.” “—If they learn you’ve sheltered this fugitive, I could never atone for bringing calamity upon your household.”

“Ah,” “Please don’t stand on such ceremony.” “No, no—if I repay your kindness with trouble, I’d be no man.” “I’ll take my leave tomorrow.” “But do you have somewhere in mind to go?” “At a time like this, Mount Liang Marsh comes to mind.”

“If it’s there, I hear Master Lin Chong has taken up residence.”

“But there’s this one bastard I can’t stand there. A leader called Wang Lun—a suspicious little coward who parades his meager learning like some scholar. I just can’t stomach the man.” “In that case, why not try Baozhu Temple on Twin Dragon Mountain? It’s like a scaled-down version of Mount Liang Marsh.” “Hmm… You mean there’s actually such an ideal hideout?”

“There are three or four hundred people holed up there as well.” “The mountain lies south of Qingzhou.” “The leader’s name is Deng Long the Golden-Eyed Tiger.” Yang Zhi rejoiced. ―The poison that had brought him to a near-death state at Yellow Mud Ridge had now been completely purged from his body. The next day, the couple—having received compassionate travel provisions and a modest amount of journey funds—set out for Qingzhou.

Thus on his journey, he soon looked up at a mountain that towered above others in one corner of Qingzhou’s sky. "...So this is the famed Twin Dragon Mountain," he muttered as he drew closer to its foothills. That evening—amid pine winds whistling through—he wandered about searching for someplace to spend the night.

Then, from the base of a certain pine tree, suddenly—

“Watch out! Are you blind, you bastard?”

And then, someone roared at his back. “Well, so there was a person here after all.”

Yang Zhi turned around. There stood a hulking monk reeking of liquor, who had just hauled himself upright. He was now retrieving the staff that Yang Zhi’s foot had apparently tripped over and slamming it into the ground. “Hey, locust!” “Got something to say?!” “What?!” “Strutting about with that fancy greatsword—how dare you kick this monk’s sacred staff while I’m napping peacefully and then act all nonchalant?!”

“I thought I’d stepped on deadwood—turned out to be some monk’s staff.” “Never seen a fool napping across the king’s highway!” “Quit your jests!” “This here’s Twin Dragon Mountain’s gate—no place for stray dogs to wander!” “Grovel!” “Bowing don’t suit my nature.” “Hah! This beggar-monk’s causing trouble to shake down coppers!” “You’ve got tongue!” “Beggarly monk or not—taste this staff!”

At that very moment, a gust of wind whizzed through where Yang Zhi stood—had he not flung himself aside at the last instant, his form would surely have been obliterated. “Ah!”

Yang Zhi, too, had drawn the greatsword at his waist as if spurting it forth. And then once again,

“Huh?!” he was taken aback anew.

The large monk had abruptly stripped off his Buddhist robe, revealing a torso fully covered in floral tattoos that flashed into view. "Well now, Flowery Monk. Withdraw your iron staff!" "Scared, coward?" "Don't curse so. We weren't complete strangers." "Smooth talker. Who the hell are you?" "You and I were both men of Kaifeng's Eastern Capital. First behold this golden mark—the tattoo upon my brow. I am Yang Zhi, framed by Gao Qiu's vile cabal through false charges and reduced to a common soldier in the Northern Capital."

“So what? You’re talking about Yang Zhi the Blue-Faced Beast—the one who stood selling his ancestral sword at Tianhanzhou Bridge in the capital, then cut down that ruffian Niu Er in a single stroke amid the chaos? The same who was notorious back then?” “Ah. That would be me—back then, you were none other than the Flowery Monk Lu Zhishen, caretaker of the vegetable fields at the Great Xiangguo Temple in the outskirts, were you not?” “Wh-what?! Well, well! This is an unexpected encounter. How do you know this monk?”

“Those tattoos were famous in the capital—even three-year-olds knew them alongside the name Flowery Monk… So why is that Flowery Monk here of all places?” “Well, it’s a long story... How about walking over there with me? There’s wine placed at that Horse-Headed Kannon shrine you can see over there. I’d like to hear a few things from you, and I want to hear your story too…”

Lu Zhishen started walking ahead. As luck would have it, Yang Zhi too had been searching for a place to sleep that night. All through the night, the two talked until dawn on the shrine’s wet veranda.

It goes without saying that a great upheaval had occurred in Lu Zhishen’s circumstances thereafter.

First, he began recounting the circumstances thus. When Lin Chong—with whom he had sworn brotherhood—was exiled to the great penal colony of Cangzhou, Lu Zhishen had accompanied him partway, harshly driving the escort guards like servants and ultimately preventing them from achieving their aim of killing Lin Chong en route. This matter was later doubly exaggerated through the guards' accounts upon their return to the capital and maliciously reported to Minister Gao.

Immediately, an order was issued: “Apprehend the Flowery Monk!” The vegetable garden of the Great Xiangguo Temple found itself surrounded by hundreds of arrest officers. The commotion that night defied measure. To capture a single Lu Zhishen, the royal capital of Kaifeng trembled so violently that its citizens lay sleepless. Yet Zhishen himself burned down the garden hut, strode across the temple’s vast rooftops, vanished into the city streets, then materialized at dawn before the city gate’s cordon—where he toyed with swarms of soldiers before leaping from the drum tower’s tiled eaves over the castle walls, disappearing without another trace.

“After that, it was back to a life of wandering,” Lu Zhishen continued. “Even before that—back when this monk served as a provost in Yan’an Prefecture—he happened to wield his innate strength, which led him to ascend Mount Wutai and shave his head. Afterward, he resolved to reform himself, swearing to both Buddha and his deceased mother… yet it never quite worked out.” What compels this monk to act thus? Is it the evil karma he inherently possesses? “This monk thinks to himself he’ll drink quietly, sleep peacefully, and live in tranquil comfort—but whenever something comes along, it seems to stir him right back up.”

After Lu Zhishen’s reminiscence, Yang Zhi spoke. “Those who rouse someone striving to walk the straight path are the wicked officials of this world.” “Though my own circumstances differ somewhat.” He too laid bare every detail of how he had come here and explained his purpose in seeking refuge at Twin Dragon Mountain. “That was quite a coincidental alignment.”

Zhishen clapped his hands and, “In truth, this monk also considered Baozhu Temple on Twin Dragon Mountain to be an ideal place to endure the world’s hardships and went to meet Deng Long, the mountain stronghold’s leader.”

“So you’re already residing at the mountain stronghold, then?”

“But Deng Long, that bastard, absolutely refuses to show his face.” “He just had his underlings relay a message: if I win a match at the foot of the mountain, he’ll welcome me into the stronghold as an honored guest.” “So I trusted him and came down, but the coward immediately locked all three fortress gates with chains and hasn’t made a peep since.” “Having no choice, I bought wine from the village and have been waiting here—today marks the fourth day.” “But it seems in this contest, we’ve been completely fooled.”

“You’re too trusting, monk.” “Doesn’t that gall you?” “It’s infuriating.” “So there I was thinking maybe I could just smash down the three fortress gates—but damn things are built like iron! Even this monk couldn’t take on those gates.” “And it’d be idiotic to even try wrestling with them.” “Then we have no choice but to take it over through wit.” “It’s absurd for this unworthy one—who fell for the ‘Birthday Gifts stratagem’—to say such a thing, but…”

“If you’ve got a plan, I’d like to hear it. At this rate, we can’t retreat from this foothill.” “No—let’s retreat from here for now and return to the tavern at Cao Zheng’s house that I mentioned earlier. Since it was Cao Zheng who told us about Twin Dragon Mountain, consulting him might yield some clever strategy.”

Bringing the Flowery Monk along, Yang Zhi returned after several days to the village tavern of Cao Zheng.

“Three heads bring wisdom divine.” That night, after a modest drinking party around the tripod seating, the three men laughed in unison at what brilliant scheme had been devised.

The informants were lost in a fog. Next came the matter concerning Detective Chief He Tao's wife and younger brother.

The once-renowned Baozhu Temple on Twin Dragon Mountain had now become a den of thieves, where neither the chants of a thousand monks nor temple bells' tolling remained. Instead, upon a couch strewn with leopard pelts, a giant man like a crimson demon lay napping.

“Oh, what’s that?! Those distant voices... Could it be the fortress gate? Oi! Someone go check it out!” Having awoken and emerged from the depths of the temple onto the upper stairs, Deng Long opened his tiger-like maw and barked an order at the nearby underlings. “Right!”

When five or six men started to get up, the bandit lieutenant and several others came up from the lower path. “Boss, peasants from nearby villages have trussed up that big monk from the other day and brought him here. What should we do?” they reported in formation below the stairs. “What?” Deng Long made a baffled face. “That makes no sense! When you say ‘that big monk,’ you mean the wanted criminal Flowery Monk Lu Zhishen—the one who caused trouble at Mount Wutai, ransacked Great Xiangguo Temple’s vegetable garden, and disappeared from Dongjing! We drove him away properly, but there’s no way peasants could’ve captured him. Bring him in—but keep your wits about you!”

“But Boss, when we questioned the peasants, turns out their story wasn’t all lies.”

“What’s the meaning of this? You claim it’s no lie?”

“That bastard, after being driven out from here and apparently having nothing to eat, kept badgering Cao Zheng’s tavern in the village day after day.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” “Once drunk, he’d barge into any house, demanding lodging and money. If anyone complained, he’d rampage—indeed, he’d been nothing but trouble.” “Not only that—he’s even made contact with Liangshan Marsh and declared that he’ll soon have even Deng Long of Twin Dragon Mountain under his command!” “And he’s been going around spouting threats like ‘I’ll make even Deng Long of Twin Dragon Mountain my underling once I link up with Liangshan Marsh!’ Don’t that make you laugh?” “You bastard! Were you going around spouting such nonsense?”

“So Cao Zheng from the tavern and the village headman put their heads together. They seated that big monk in the place of honor for a whole night, pretending to humor him while making him drink wine spiked with paralytic drug.” “Now ain’t this a masterstroke?”

“Hmm.” “Well done.” “Hmm. You’ve tied him up and brought him here?”

“After trussing him up tight with rough rope, once the paralytic drug wore off, they all ganged up to kick and beat him senseless,” “The monk’s head was quite a sight too.” “Then they hauled him up the mountain like hunters dragging a wild boar—what a ruckus they made!” “They found it too creepy to finish him off themselves, so they all begged together—‘We ask that Boss Deng Long carry out the punishment!’”

“I see.” “So that commotion earlier was because of this?” “Alright! I’ll finish him off.” “Bring him here.” “But wait! Even bound, have him heavily guarded when you bring him here!”

Soon enough. Passing through three barricaded gates protected by stone crossbows, spiked ropes, and abatis, a group of peasants and a bound monk—surrounded front and back by a large number of bandits—came climbing up. And no sooner had they arrived than Lu Zhishen was abruptly prodded in the back and forced to his knees at the foot of the stairs. The peasants too, all together, gazed up at Deng Long’s figure and prostrated themselves. “Is it you, Boss? Because of this big monk, you can’t imagine how much we villagers have been made to suffer. Please, by all means, tear him into eight pieces or whatever you see fit.”

“Hmm. Well done,” Deng Long said. “You—Cao Zheng of the tavern?” “Nuh-uh, that ain’t right,” the peasant said with a sniff, wrinkling his nose as he glanced at the other peasant beside him. Unaware that this was none other than Yang Zhi—the Blue-Faced Beast in peasant disguise—Deng Long shifted his massive eyes to glare at Cao Zheng. “Hey! What’s that thing next to you?”

“Yes, yes. Here are the Zen staff and monk’s knife we seized from this monk.”

“The monk’s weapon?” “Bring it here.”

“Right away!” While making a show of their considerable weight as he lifted them, Cao Zheng placed the two items directly beneath the stairs. It was as if he’d placed them right under Lu Zhishen’s nose.

“You fool!” Deng Long shouted. “I said bring them up here! Why the hell would you put them there?” Then, Lu Zhishen, who had been hanging his head, “No, right there’s perfect.”

At this, Deng Long leapt up in shock.

“What’s this, you wretch?” “Deng Long. Your neck won’t have time to turn.” No sooner had he spoken than Lu Zhishen untied the rope bonds coiled behind him with a sharp jerk, reached for his Zen staff, let out a thunderous roar, leapt up the stairs, and smashed the center of Deng Long’s forehead.

The rope bonds had been tied with fake knots. Needless to say, Yang Zhi, Cao Zheng, and the others confronted the panicking bandit underlings alongside Lu Zhishen’s actions—and of course, they surrendered without a fight.

Thus, the bandit stronghold of Bao Zhu Temple had its leadership overturned in an instant. —Acknowledging the Flower Monk and Blue-Faced Beast as their new chieftains, the four hundred followers swore brotherhood through righteousness, then hauled out all wine from the temple storeroom that night to stage a grand feast. Cao Zheng led the remaining peasants back to their village the next day, and Twin Dragon Mountain’s surroundings—its jade-green forests and rural vistas—seemed to take on a new character. They forbade cruel oppression of the weak as their band’s first law; though remaining outlaws, they vowed to live as brothers of defiance and sorrow who would combat the chaos under Song Dynasty rule.

Now then.—Yang Zhi’s place of settlement was temporarily secured at Bao Zhu Temple on Twin Dragon Mountain, and its conclusion had been witnessed there, but the aftermath of the Yellow Mud Ridge incident still remained entirely unresolved.

But no— The investigation into this bizarre incident remained merely the beginning, lost in a five-mile fog.—Where had the 100,000 guan of treasure vanished to, swept away like the wind upon seven Jiangzhou carts? Who were the culprits? The realm seethed in chaos, rumors swirling wildly. “Though apologies and honor are now beyond recovery, the hateful wretch is none other than your own hand-trained Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi. “—Plotted against by that villain, all sixteen men accompanying the transport were forced to drink poisoned wine… leading to this wretched outcome.”

Xie Steward of the Liang household, who had rushed back to the capital from Yellow Mud Ridge without rest day or night, stood before his master and falsely accused that the culprits were Yang Zhi and seven bandits who had conspired with him and lain in ambush along the road.

It was Liang Zhongshu who was left utterly stunned. Liang Zhongshu could not bring himself to doubt the words of Steward Xie, who spoke through the tears of an old man. To say that "his furious hair pierced the heavens" would perfectly describe his countenance upon hearing this.

“What? What? Yang Zhi colluded with bandits along the way and made you lot drink poisoned wine before fleeing with that treasure? ...Hmm! That ungrateful dog-beast! How dare he betray me! I’ll have him arrested and cut to pieces without fail!”

Meanwhile, elsewhere,

At Minister Cai’s mansion in the Eastern Capital of Kaifeng, even when her birthday arrived, the congratulatory gifts from the Liang household never came that day. “Well? What’s happening?” Frantic with worry, Minister Cai hosted a banquet gathering guests from court and society that failed to liven up, ending amidst her profound displeasure—and eventually deep night fell. It was an express courier from Beijing.

“What?! Again this year?” After reading Liang Zhongshu’s letter of apology alongside a report detailing the incident’s full course, Minister Cai was pierced by fury—and with it, an ominous sense that his birthday had been cursed by bandits for two consecutive years made his hair stand on end.

Without waiting for dawn, she summoned her most trusted retainers, “Yellow Mud Ridge falls under Jizhou’s jurisdiction.” “Proceed immediately to the Jizhou Magistrate Office.” “And until the culprits are apprehended, remain at the magistrate office as my overseer and keep the officers motivated.”

she sternly commanded. The retainer who had received the role of overseer whipped his horse that very night and rushed to Jizhou. When he arrived, he found the local magistrate office already in utter chaos. And no wonder—from Beijing’s Daming Prefecture, under the authority of the chief administrator’s office, they were being bombarded day and night with rapid-fire arrest warrants, official documents, reprimanding edicts, and urgent couriers. Just then, yet another— “By the order of His Excellency Minister Cai, a personal overseer has just arrived.”

When this was reported, the magistrate was beside himself. Exhausted from lack of sleep and now gripped by terror, he remained in a state of utter disarray even during their face-to-face meeting. “Your esteemed arrival from afar leaves me utterly humbled. The Investigation Bureau, Criminal Division, and even informants have mobilized all capabilities to pursue this case with utmost dedication. Penalties up to dismissal and salary reductions have been established for any negligent in their duties. Thus, I trust tangible progress will materialize in short order… I humbly beg your temporary forbearance here.”

“Ah, no—Magistrate,” said the Overseer with a stern face. “Such half-heartedness as ‘within days’ leaves much to be desired.” “You must understand that Minister Cai has dispatched me as overseer for this very purpose.” “The seven jujube merchants who appeared at Yellow Mud Ridge, one liquor seller, the Liang household’s traitor, and Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi.” “By strict decree, you are to arrest every last one of those villains within ten days and deliver them to the Eastern Capital!”

“What? A ten-day deadline?” “Should ten days pass without result—regrettably—we may have to request Your Honor personally make the journey to Shamen Island, that penal colony. Of course, I myself could never return nonchalantly to the capital empty-handed either. In any case, I came prepared to share life and death with you—please keep that in mind.”

The magistrate turned pale. They had been working on it before, but now every moment felt unbearable.

“Summon He Tao, Chief of the Criminal Division.” Immediately moving to the duty room, he transferred the heavy burden weighing upon him to his elite subordinates.

“He Tao.” “What are you doing? What have you been doing every day?” “Magistrate.” “Are you suggesting our efforts remain inadequate?” “Do not talk back.” “You can’t afford even a moment’s composure in that Criminal Division.” “This is no time for jests!” “I’ve deployed hundreds of informants day and night—spread like spider legs—sniffing out every criminal trace.” “What good would it do if I, the Chief Detective, just wandered about changing expressions?” “Can’t you see me here—face buried in folded arms—racking my brains?”

“Shut up! I’ve tasted that much experience myself. Passing the imperial examinations and becoming a magistrate of a prefecture—I faced every hardship imaginable; it was no easy feat. No matter what—round up every last criminal within ten days!” “That’s impossible. That ain’t no miracle work!”

“No—this is absolutely Minister Cai’s strict order.” “The overseer has also arrived.” “If you fail to apprehend the criminals within ten days, not only will I lose my post as magistrate—but you won’t escape unscathed either.” “First comes exile to a remote island.” “This is madness! Just because the Minister’s overseer came to crack the whip—” “Just because the Minister’s overseer came to crack the whip—” “The fact that you say such things only proves your frantic investigation remains inadequate.” “Very well! I shall carve this imperial decree—no trivial matter—into your flesh, so you never forget it even in sleep.” “Secretary!” “Summon the tattoo artisan here.”

The magistrate was somewhat losing his composure. He ordered his attendants to immediately seize He Tao’s arms and carve an exile tattoo—“Banishment to X Province,” with a space left blank—into his forehead. It was as if they had affixed a label to a semi-convicted criminal, one with the price yet undecided. “Agh, that hurts! Maybe this is retribution for all those years I’d been skimming easy gains, but damn—working at the magistrate’s office sure is tough now.” While pressing a hand to his bleeding forehead, He Tao retreated to his office in the criminal division. When he glanced over at the informants’ den across the way—now dimming in the twilight—they were likely worn out from days of relentless pursuit, yet they noisily roared with laughter over some foolish banter. He Tao, seething with anger, bellowed from the doorway there.

“Hey! Have you lot all resigned from your jobs to become retirees?”

“Oh, Chief. What in heaven’s name happened to your face?”

“Take a good look at my face!”

“Oh no! This is terrible!” “Don’t act like this is someone else’s problem!” “Listen well! If we don’t settle the Yellow Mud Ridge affair within ten days, I’ve been sentenced to exile!” “How can you bastards stay so damned carefree?!” “Our deepest apologies, sir.” “But we’ve been wearing our legs to stumps combing every inch of this territory!” “And you still find time to cackle like hyenas? “You idiots! If you truly gave a damn, you’d be scouring every blade of grass—every last corner of field and mountain! Instead it’s ‘Buy us drinks!’ or ‘My kin’s sick!’—only then do you put on your pathetic weeping shows!”

“Hey, everyone. Let’s take a short break, then split up and head out again. When I saw the Chief’s forehead, I couldn’t help but react. Let’s make it an all-nighter tonight. Can’t be helped—might as well become crickets for now and comb through every blade of grass.”

Dismissing those voices behind him, He Tao returned home that night in low spirits. His wife, seeing her husband’s cheerless demeanor even at the evening meal,

“What’s wrong with you? …And that tattoo on your face—” “It’s that case. Can’t the detective chief’s wife figure it out without me having to spell it out?” “I can guess as much, but…” “Even so…”

“They’re ordering me to catch ’em within ten days no matter what. And we still ain’t got a single clue ’bout those bastards. Wife—seeing our home’s light like this… might only have ten days left of it.” “Don’t talk like that—you’re making my heart shrink.”

“But there ain’t no other way! This ain’t just some whim of the magistrate—this time, it’s a goddamn direct order from Minister Cai himself. I’ve messed up… my whole life’s path—”

“…Oh. Someone’s at the front door.” “A guest, perhaps?”

“Nah, must be He Qing... My brother’s come to show that gloomy mug of his after gambling away his money again, no doubt.” “Tonight, I ain’t got the stomach to see him.”

“Very well. I’ll have him drink some wine and send him off smoothly.” At the end of the corridor where she had rushed out, her cheerful voice sounded more buoyant than usual.

He Qing, younger brother of He Tao—having been told that his brother, who had come to visit, was feeling under the weather—had no choice but to reluctantly begin taking the cup offered by his sister-in-law alone, though it looked far from appetizing.

“Sis. Isn’t it awfully gloomy tonight? Even your face looks all damp.” “But Mr. Qing. You should know all about it yourself.” “What’re you talking about?” “My husband’s worries. Oh, you’re making such a face. What an unhelpful brother you are.” “But I don’t know a thing! What’s there to worry about for a detective chief who wants for nothing? He’s got sweet backdoor income rolling in regular-like, commands fear and respect from society, and tops it off with a wife as beautiful as you, Sis—dripping with allure. Honestly, I can’t fathom what troubles he could possibly have.”

“This is no joking matter.” “You know perfectly well.” “There’s no way you haven’t heard about the Yellow Mud Ridge incident, Mr. Qing.” “Ah.” “Oh, that?” “There, you see?” “Hahaha.” “What an unpleasant laugh.” “Do you think this amuses you?” “Don’t be so harsh.” “I’m only a younger brother because there’s a Big Bro.” “But hey—when Big Bro’s saddled with a worthless sibling like me, no wonder he’d want to catch a cold sometimes.”

“My, you’re acting strange tonight, Mr. Qing. Why must you say such spiteful things?” “Well, sometimes I just feel like earnestly confessing everything. Having Sis here reluctantly pouring drinks for me like this—it only makes me want to confess even more.” “Fine, I won’t pour you any more then! You’re just being weirdly persistent. Today at the office too, someone like Minister Cai’s overseer came and said if they aren’t captured within ten days, the magistrate will be dismissed and my husband exiled to a penal island—he even came back with his face branded with a golden tattoo! The wine is fine, but please stop your mischief.”

“Well, that’s news to me. If I’d known it was that serious, I shoulda come sooner—but then again, if this good-for-nothing brother showed up outta nowhere again, people’d just think I was hustling for cash or somethin’. That’d be rough, y’know? So I kept my distance… but hey.” “Hey, wait a minute.” “Mr. Qing, what was that you just mentioned?” “Oh, nothing.” “Just that even a good-for-nothing brother like me might unexpectedly prove useful somehow.”

“You’re so exasperating, Mr. Qing! ...Could it be you’ve got some lead on the Yellow Mud Ridge incident?” “Well… no. Big Bro’s counting on those informants he’s always scattering bribes to anyway.” “So you’re saying you can’t talk about it?” “Not exactly. If Big Bro were to end up in truly desperate straits, well, even I wouldn’t just stand by and watch... But Big Bro’s a skilled detective chief. You’d just get brushed off with a ‘Know your place—you’re not needed here.’ ...No—Sis, thanks for the meal. I’ll be back another time.”

“Ah, wait!” “There’s no need to hurry off like that.” “I’ll go call my husband right now.” “But you’ve got a cold, right? Heh heh heh.”

“You! You!”

Even without being called out by his wife, He Tao had been listening intently from the corridor between the rooms for some time now. No sooner had he shown his face than he grabbed He Qing’s hand and said: "My bad. Come on—don’t take offense—let’s have another drink." "Oh, Brother," He Qing replied. "There’s plenty of wine here already. Well now—you’ve really let yourself go, haven’t you?" "I know I’ve often been cold to you out of concern for your habits," He Tao pressed, "but I’m begging you—this brother’s entire life depends on it. If you know anything, tell me openly."

“Hmph. You mean those petty thieves from Yellow Mud Ridge?” “Petty thieves! You can’t afford to be mistaken here!”

"But hey, Brother." "Those guys? It’s all out in the open now." "Gah!" "Is it true?" He Tao rushed into the back, retrieved ten taels of silver from the document box, and plopped it down beside his brother’s meal.

“It’s not much, but consider it a temporary reward.” “Brother, sorry ’bout this, but I’m a hardheaded bastard.” “I’ll just turn away like this.” “Why? Not enough?” “You think it’s insufficient?” “Quit it. Dangle bribes under my nose and I’ll clam up tighter.” “A worthless brother. A good-for-nothing brother.” “This guy gets one moment.” “One moment to swagger before Big Bro.” “That ain’t tradable for silver!” “Then what’ll make you agree?”

“Ah, what a fine mood! Big Bro, Sis-in-law—seeing you two lined up like this, smugly leaning back—what a delight!” “Stop playing games—the reward money comes from the authorities themselves. If that’s still not enough... Fine! I’ll bow.” He grasped his brother’s shoulders. “Qing—I’m bowing my head and begging you like this.”

“Hmph! I might tell you.”

“I’m grateful. Where? Where’s their hideout?” “There it is.” He Qing tapped his breast pocket. “The thieves are all bundled together in my wallet. They ain’t goin’ anywhere—rest easy, Brother.” “Huh? You mean your wallet?” “I ain’t no magician, but let me show you first—no tricks or hidden devices, see?…The evidence is right here.”

Plunging both hands deep into his pockets, He Qing took out his wallet. Alongside a thin leather wallet there was a folded notebook. Leaving only that notebook in his palm.

“Now then—without explaining this thing’s history and origins properly, you’d never understand, would you? Sis-in-law, close those windows and the back door there. Walls have ears, and you can’t let your guard down even around moths... See what I mean, dear brother? That’s how it is.” “...About two months back now.” “That was around mid-June.”

He Qing lowered his voice and began to speak. “In Anle Village—you know the place—there’s a cheap inn called Wang’s.” “By the inn’s regulations, every evening’s lodgers must properly write down their destination, occupation, address, and age.” “At bedtime when doors are barred, the front desk copies these records and submits them to the village headman every seven days.” “The headman then compiles them monthly for the authorities... Well Brother, this might be needless talk for you, but that’s how the procedure works.”

“Hmm, hmm.”

“However, since early summer, old man Wang at the inn had taken ill abed, and his young hired hands were all useless illiterates.” “…Then into that mess stumbles me—fresh from losing everything at Anle Village’s gambling den. No coin to my name, but I thought ‘What the hell?’ and crashed there anyway… Followin’?” “Came time to leave—couldn’t pay up.” “So I laid it all bare—‘I’ll come back later with payment!’—and they agreed quick as you please.” “The landlady comes out askin’ if I’d handle front desk bookkeepin’ for half a month instead.” “Figured her husband’d recover soon enough.” “Thought it’d be a lark—just curious-like—but ended up workin’ twenty days as that flophouse clerk, greetin’ guests and seein’ ‘em off.”

“Huh—so it was you?” “So then—I’ll never forget—that was just at the start of July.”

“Huh.”

“July 3rd?” “That’s correct. Didn’t seven jujube sellers line up seven Jiangzhou carts—those hand-pushed ones—and take off their straw sandals at the shopfront come evening?” “……” He Tao’s throat gulped audibly. “Ah! My eyes nearly popped out when I saw one of ’em! But I quickly looked away and put on my best inn clerk act—you know, extra careful-like. Truth be told, I’d seen their quiet leader somewhere before—the one calling the shots among those seven.” “Couldn’t place him at first, but after lying awake all night racking my brains, it hit me—years back, some gang pals dragged me to beg help from this certain bigshot.” “What d’you know! The man I’d glimpsed then was spittin’ image of that master there.” “In Yuncheng County’s Dongxi Village—the big landowner’s Chao Gai, if memory serves.”

“Hmm… and then?”

“Hmm...” “That evening, I wondered if they’d properly filled out the guest register—then checked thoroughly the next morning. All seven had written ‘Li’ as their surname.” Li Chun, Li Zhang, Li Da, Li Zhou—names like those. “...All listing the same hometown village in Haozhou, with Dongjing as their destination and jujube-selling as their trade.” “Meaning they claimed to be heading to Dongjing to sell goods... Strange—a Village Headman mixed in with them—but that morning, I just saw them off cheerfully.” “Then the very next day, some yakuza pals came inviting—‘Wanna tag along?’—and though broke, I went to peek at the village gambling den. Come nightfall, I was trudging back half-asleep with a cleaned-out buddy... when at the three-way crossroads, some weirdo came sprinting by with two empty buckets!”

“I see.” “The man with me said, ‘Hey! That was Bai Sheng, the White Day Rat!’” “I called out ‘Brother Bai!’ but he didn’t answer—just vanished without looking back.” “‘Must’ve been a case of mistaken identity,’ I laughed too, then casually parted ways with my companion there and headed back—but lo and behold, the very next day, news of that Yellow Mud Ridge incident exploded all over Anle Village.” “The commotion was this: seven jujube sellers and one liquor seller had staged a clever ruse, forced the seventeen soldiers transporting the Birthday Gifts to drink poisoned wine, and in an instant snatched away the 100,000 guan of treasure.” “Goodness—for four or five days, everywhere you went in the village, they were utterly consumed by that story.” “Hah—and during all that, I went ahead and copied down every last name from the guest register into my personal notes.” “Here, Brother—I offer up this evidence.” “Please make good use of it for your glory.”

“Oh! Much obliged.” “I’ll take this.”

He Tao was ecstatic. Immediately taking He Qing along, he rushed off to the Jizhou Magistrate Office. After immediately securing a private room and holding a brief secret discussion with the magistrate, they promptly selected about ten of the most skilled arrest officers and hurried to Anle Village.

They reached the village well past midnight. The home of Bai Sheng, the White Day Rat—a known ne’er-do-well—had long been marked in the arrest officers’ sights. They tried knocking—*knock knock knock knock*. A wife in nightclothes showed her face. Ah! They chased them as they tried to flee inside, “White Day Rat.” “Quick work, eh?” “We’ve already come all the way from Yellow Mud Ridge to greet you.” When He Tao thundered, Bai Sheng tumbled out from under the bedding, “M-Master... What an outrageous thing to say! As you can see, Yours truly’s been laid up all summer with heatstroke—groaning and moaning in bed with this raging fever!” “What an outrageous thing to say, Master!” “As you can see, Yours truly’s been laid up all summer with heatstroke—groaning and moaning in bed with this raging fever!”

“Is that so? If you’re truly ill, that’s all the more reason… Don’t even think about putting up a fight. I’ll give you proper treatment—just quietly accept the ropes and enjoy the show.” They immediately bound both him and his wife with their hands behind their backs, then split up to search the house—scouring the attic and under the floorboards. The stolen goods were unearthed several feet beneath his bed—a hemp sack roughly the size of a man’s grip, filled with gold, silver, and jewels. After blindfolding the trembling wife and the deathly pale Bai Sheng, they hoisted them onto horseback and turned back. By the time they passed through the magistrate office’s gates and dragged them into the interrogation room, dawn had broken. Yet both remained stubbornly silent.

They took a brief recess before beginning the formal interrogation in earnest. The torture continued for half a day. The wife could no longer endure it. At last, her husband Bai Sheng—the White Day Rat—broke and made his confession. “Now that things have come to this,” he said, “there’s no sense clinging to pride or promises.” “I’ll tell you everything.” “Yes, sir… The mastermind behind this affair was undoubtedly Chao Gai—the village headman of Dongxi Village.” “Yours truly was merely asked to play the role of liquor seller due to old debts owed to those who once helped me—I simply followed the script they provided.” “As for other details or the identities of those six companions—I truly know nothing of such matters.”

“Good! That’s enough. We’ll haul in the other six like uprooting potato vines!” He Tao received an official document from the magistrate’s hand. Since this required venturing beyond their jurisdiction into another prefecture, negotiations between government offices became necessary. However, should they become mired in such formalities and let their preparations leak out, there would be no recovering from it. The hardships He Tao endured during this period were no easy feat. Moreover, arrangements had been made to bring along three burly soldiers—men who had previously accompanied the birthday gift transport and remained at the magistrate office as witnesses—for criminal identification through facial verification.

“First, I alone will hurry to Yuncheng County and make all necessary arrangements with the county office. The large group of arrest officers and others—bring those who can identify them and come after me.”

Leaving these instructions with his subordinates, He Tao had already spurred his horse beyond the prefecture alone by midnight.

The ear ornaments were pearls of righteousness and benevolence.

Song Jiang,

The matter of spurring his horse toward Dongxi Village in response to his friend's crisis

The area in front of any government office looked much the same, and there on the main street of Yuncheng County town as well, public scribes’ offices, lunchbox shops, sit-down tea houses, and such lined the storefronts along the street.

“Hey, hey—I don’t care what dishes you serve, but can’t you hurry up and get me some breakfast? …What? It’s almost noon already? Ah… For me it’s breakfast, but for others it’s already lunchtime?”

Detective Chief He Tao, who had spurred his horse all night from a neighboring county, entered one of the shops in front of the government office and set about filling his belly. “Right away. Apologies for the delay, and thank you for waiting.”

“Ah, I’m starving. By the way, Shopkeeper—” “Right away.”

“I’ve been watching the main gate of the government office here, and though it’s no holiday, ain’t it strangely quiet today? What—the County Magistrate don’t come ’less it’s past noon?” “No, sir. The morning bustle at the office gets cleared up before noon—litigants and officials alike are all on lunch break now.” “Hah! Ain’t that just like ’em. So my head’s been countin’ time wrong... Then tell me—what sorta man’s this county’s chief clerk?”

"Sir, sir! Look—the gentleman who just arrived there is none other than the county clerk himself." "Huh? Where?" Rising from his stool, He Tao looked where the shopkeeper pointed. There indeed was a county official in chief clerk's uniform crossing the government office's broad courtyard toward the main gate. The man had a well-proportioned build, stood unremarkably tall, and appeared around thirty. Though dark-complexioned, his features were refined with pearls adorning both ears—his every step exuded natural nobility, carrying an undeniably admirable air.

“Ah, hey—”

He Tao promptly rushed out into the street and bowed in this manner.

“Chief Clerk. “Excuse me, but would you kindly spare a moment to join me at that tea shop over there?”

"Huh..." The Chief Clerk looked genuinely taken aback—

“Who might you be?” “I am He Tao, detective chief of neighboring Jizhou Prefecture. Regarding the matter I’ve come to discuss… I thought we might converse over some tea I’ll offer.” He Tao insistently invited him into the tea shop. Then first, after initial greetings, he inquired. “Pardon my rudeness, but may I ask the Chief Clerk’s esteemed name?” “Ah, I’ve neglected to introduce myself.” “My family name is Song, and my given name is Jiang. I commute daily from nearby Song Family Village to this county office as a chief clerk.”

“Wait—then you are the renowned ‘Timely Rain’ Song Jiang that the world speaks of?”

“Hahaha,” Song Jiang laughed. “I’m hardly so presumptuous a man. Please lower your hands.” “No no,” He Tao insisted. “You must take the seat of honor.” “Nonsense! You’re the guest who has traveled far.” Song Jiang maintained his formal poise. “What official matter brings the detective chief of a neighboring county here on such a visit?” He Tao’s sharp eyes darted around the tea shop as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a confidential murmur.

“Within your jurisdiction in this county, there are several criminals whom we must apprehend.”

“Ah.” “Then regarding those formalities—”

“That’s correct—I’ve brought an official document from the Jizhou Magistrate Office.” “I humbly request your consideration in this matter.” “Understood… However, I must first inquire about the nature of the case to determine whether it falls under this Song Jiang’s jurisdiction or another’s.” “You must already be aware through circulating rumors—this concerns the aforementioned incident at Yellow Mud Ridge.”

“Ah. I had heard that the birthday gifts worth 100,000 guan—gold, silver, and rare jewels being transported from Daming Prefecture in Beijing to Minister Cai—were waylaid by bandits. Has there been any progress in this grave matter?”

“That’s correct… We’ve already apprehended the accomplices—the White Day Rat couple.” “But would you believe it? The seven principal offenders confessed they’re from Yuncheng County.” “So last night, after mustering the arrest officers and setting procedures in motion, I came ahead as the vanguard to seek this jurisdiction’s cooperation.” “…I humbly beg your swift authorization in this matter.”

“Understood. And who might these seven criminals be?”

“The names of all the accomplices have not yet been identified.” “However, the mastermind has been identified.” “The mastermind is a village chief here in your jurisdiction named Chao Gai from Dongxi Village.” “…By any chance… are you not aware of him?” At that moment, a flash of surprise swept across Song Jiang’s brow—something He Tao failed to notice. Moreover, Song Jiang’s very presence was so calm that it prevented even a hint of notice. “Well… There may be a village chief named Chao, but I just don’t recall.” “I am always occupied with office duties within the yamen and have absolutely no interactions with village chiefs from neighboring areas.” “However, if you’ve tracked them down that thoroughly, it should be as simple as catching a mud turtle in a jar.” “There should be no difficulty at all.”

“Despite the inconvenience, please deliver this official document directly to His Honor the Magistrate at once.” “That would be problematic. The document’s seal cannot be opened except by His Excellency the Magistrate himself, and procedurally it would be improper for me to handle it. As His Excellency is currently resting at his official residence during the noon recess, you should personally present it to him directly later.” “Then with all due respect, might I request your accompaniment later?” “That’s easily arranged. I shall guide you then.”

“I’m truly imposing on you with this trouble, but I earnestly ask for your assistance.”

“It is only my natural duty.” “You needn’t trouble yourself.” “…However, His Excellency the Magistrate has only just begun his rest, and I must now briefly return home to retrieve a forgotten item. Would you kindly wait here for a short while?” “That’s acceptable.” “Please, once you’ve finished your official business there.”

“Then, until later.” Song Jiang made that promise and went out into the thoroughfare.

However, upon turning a nearby corner, he went to the back gate of the government office and called out the janitor. And then,

“Soon His Excellency the Magistrate will return from his residence to the office. When that happens go immediately to the teahouse before the main gate meet He Tao from Jizhou Magistrate Office and make sure you relay clearly that Yasusi Sun says you are not budging from there till he shows up.” “Understood?”

With that final confirmation, he departed. But that was not all. As soon as Song Jiang led a horse out from the government stable and leapt onto its back, he whipped the horse and sped off toward an unspecified destination. How suspicious! His figure was already swiftly approaching the village road of Dongxi Village, where Village Chief Chao Gai resided.

At this point, it becomes necessary to describe Song Jiang’s character in somewhat greater detail. His family had been doctors for generations in Song Family Village, Yuncheng County, and Song Jiang was the second of three brothers. Because he was filial to his parents and deeply righteous toward others, the villagers called him by such names as Filial and Righteous Black Second Son. Another name derived from his dark complexion was Black Song Jiang, but he had yet another nickname: Timely Rain Song Jiang.

While nicknames might be terms of endearment, mockery, or contempt, honorifics were rare—yet in Song Jiang’s case, all were imbued with public reverence. “Timely Rain”—meaning one who brings rain when most needed—was what it signified. This alone revealed how deeply cherished he was by the people in daily life. He comforted the poor, aided the weak, and cultivated strong ties with gallants across the land; though he had mastered swordsmanship and wielded a staff skillfully, he never once displayed such martial prowess publicly. As a yasusi clerk, his reputation within the office stood impeccable—alone among officials, no whispers of corruption’s taint ever touched him.

That Song Jiang—now, the moment he rushed into Dongxi Village, tied his discarded horse to the locust tree before the manor gate,

“Master Chao, are you here?”

he called breathlessly as he arrived. Through the servant’s relay, Chao Gai, the village chief, immediately appeared and, upon welcoming him as was his custom— “Ah! If it isn’t Magistrate Song!” “Come in, please.” “No—today I can’t be escorted to the guest room.” “Master Chao, I need to speak somewhere private—a small room without others.” “You’re in quite a rush.” “...Well, no one will come here.” “Now—what’s this urgent matter?”

“Master Chao!” Song Jiang fixed his clear eyes intently and stared at him. Perhaps it was imagination, but tears pooled in the depths of those eyes. Chao Gai’s chest tightened involuntarily— “Here!” —and he straightened into formal posture.

“You’ve gone and done something terrible.” “What?!” “I’ve always regarded you as my own blood brother.” “Have you not been one who tended to others’ needs, sought the village’s welfare, and maintained the trust of all as a man who brought no disgrace to Dongxi Village’s ancient houses or manors?... How could I stand by now and let you perish?” “Wh-what are you...” “What do you mean by this?”

“Just now, under orders from the Jizhou Magistrate Office, a man named He Tao—the detective chief—came to the county government office to formally submit arrest procedures for Chao Gai and his six accomplices.” “Ah! So it’s been uncovered?”

“Regarding the Yellow Mud Ridge incident—through Bai Sheng’s confession—the Jizhou Magistrate Office reports they have fully secured all necessary evidence.” “…Master Chao.”

Song Jiang suddenly gripped his hand tightly, “You—who lack for nothing—why would you dare commit such an audacious act? I can’t claim to be entirely ignorant of your true motives.” “But there’s no time for explanations now.” “From Minister Cai’s strict orders down to the arrangements in Beijing Damingfu, they say it’s spread like a spiderweb.” “How could you possibly escape?”

“Magistrate Song… I am resolved.” “To meet my end by Your Honor’s own hand would fulfill my deepest wish.” “Come then—bind me with your ropes.” “What madness is this? Had I come to bind you with ropes, Song Jiang would not stand before you now.” “Not as an official, but as Song Jiang the commoner—I who could not forsake our bond—have flown through void to reach you.” “Now flee! Flee with all haste!”

“Hah! So you would go to such lengths for Chao Gai?” “From my parents to distant kin—for years we’ve been profoundly indebted to your kindness.” “Moreover, I’ve shared a bond with you akin to brothers.” “How could I abandon that righteous duty?” “Even now, arrest officers from Jizhou Magistrate Office must have infiltrated this area.” “Once He Tao—whom I left waiting at the teahouse—personally meets the governor to complete document transfer procedures, all will be lost… You must leave this place immediately.”

“I am in your debt.” Chao Gai tightly gripped his friend’s hand, a man’s tears trickling down his cheeks. “I will never forget this kindness.” “For the rest of my life—this debt of gratitude—” “Now, now.” “That doesn’t matter.” “I must return at once.” “Take care not to delay.”

No sooner had he said this than Song Jiang turned to leave. As if reluctant to part with his sleeve, Chao Gai accompanied him across the corridor of the back garden while facing the departure pavilion and called out three names. At the sound of his voice, Wu Yong the scholar, Gongsun Sheng, and Liu Tang emerged into the garden—the three men. Chao Gai pointed at them and declared: "I can hide nothing from you, Magistrate Song." "Those are my accomplices." "The three Ruan brothers also took part, but they've already claimed their share of the 100,000 guan and returned home to Shijie Village." "Hey! Everyone—Magistrate Song Jiang honors us with his presence! Greet him properly and state your names!"

In response, Song Jiang also returned a brief nod from the corridor. Then he turned around, dashed out the gate, and once more his figure on horseback grew small in the direction of the county town, swift as a swallow.

After seeing off the retreating figure, Chao Gai made his way to the back garden, where in his heart—Damn it. I’m fine—but… He clicked his tongue in shame.

He clicked his tongue in shame.

"That man is the county clerk." If it were ever discovered that that official had let the realm's bandits escape, his ruin would be certain. …Ah, I was so preoccupied with my own affairs that I failed to inquire about it.

As he stood with arms crossed, Liu Tang, Gongsun Sheng, and Wu Yong—the three men who had approached—each in turn inquired, “Who was that who just left?” “Has something sudden occurred?”

they asked each other. Chao Gai explained the details, "If Song Jiang hadn't come to warn us, we would've been rounded up in one sweep." "We must devise a plan immediately." "So it's already been exposed, huh?" "That Bai Sheng's a fragile one." "To spill everything under mere torture..."

“Master Wu Yong. What are we to do?” “Of the Thirty-Six Stratagems, fleeing remains our only option. ...But that Song Jiang who came earlier—” “He is the county clerk—in truth, someone bound to this Chao Gai by a bond as close as sworn brothers through daily fellowship.” “So that was the famed Timely Rain, Song Jiang. Then it follows he came to warn you of this pressing crisis with resolve to sacrifice himself. ...We must flee without delay. Moreover, this would fulfill his deepest wish.”

“But where [are we going]?”

“In any case, let’s make haste to Shijie Village and take temporary shelter at the Ruan brothers’ house.” “Master, all three of them are fishermen.” “With our numbers, how could we possibly stay in cramped fishing huts?”

“No, no. That place is merely a temporary foothold. Try recalling what lies beyond the waters from Shijie Village’s inlet.” Then Gongsun Sheng and Liu Tang murmured in unison. “Liangshan Marsh... Beyond the river lies Liangshan Marsh.” “There!” said Wu Yong the Scholar, his eyes blazing with vigor belying his years— “Since matters stand thus, let us cross over and propose joining the Liangshan Marsh fellowship!”

“But Master...” “But will their comrades readily accept us?”

“There’s no need to worry.” “We have gold and silver.” “If we offer a portion of it as tribute—” “Ah, of course.”

In an instant, the four men were of one mind. ...They gathered the gold, silver, pearls, and jade seized earlier through the “stratagem at Yellow Mud Ridge” into five or six bundles, had about ten of their own retainers guard them, and—with Wu Yong and Liu Tang accompanying—set out immediately toward Shijie Village.

Chao Gai and Gongsun Sheng—who had stayed behind—gathered their numerous family members and hired help in one hall, quietly bid them farewell, distributed all household goods, and were preparing to hurry after them shortly to Shijie Village. Yet among those reluctant to part were women they had loved for many years, along with elders and children; drawn by sodden sleeves of tears, they found themselves delayed.

Meanwhile,

Meanwhile, Song Jiang had been galloping back to town. As soon as he tied up his horse at the government office stable, he immediately circled around the thoroughfare and arrived in front of the teahouse from before. He looked.

He Tao stood under the eaves there with a look of impatience. “Ah, I’ve kept you waiting.” “…Unfortunately, there happened to be a guest at my residence.” “Ah, you’ve finally come.” “I was beginning to wonder what had become of you.” “My apologies, my apologies.” “I shall promptly guide you to His Honor the Magistrate’s office.” “Please, this way.”

At that moment in the magistrate’s office, Magistrate Shi Wenbin was intently reviewing official documents. Song Jiang quietly approached the door, “The one I have brought here is a man named He Tao, Detective Chief of Jizhou.” “He has been urgently dispatched regarding a major incident, bearing an official document from a neighboring county.” “I humbly request you review this document.” “Let me see...” With that, Wenbin turned from his large rosewood desk, formally received the official document from He Tao’s hands, and immediately unrolled it to examine.

“Hmm… A certain He Tao, you say? This is a formidable task indeed—you have my sympathies.”

“I trust we can count on your full cooperation.” “Of course. According to the document, an overseer dispatched by Minister Cai has arrived and is lodging at the Jizhou Magistrate Office, with a strict directive to arrest every last criminal within ten days. As fellow officials engaged in public service, we can’t help but sympathize with such harsh orders from above... Very well. We will mobilize all of this county’s forces and swiftly ensure the gang is apprehended. Song Jiang, make the arrangements at once.”

“Understood,” Song Jiang responded. “...But should word leak out, we would fail utterly. Let us wait for dusk and strike swift as a gale. Once we apprehend Village Head Chao, the remaining six will require little time and effort.” “I leave that to you,” He Tao said. “But this makes no sense to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Speaking of Dongxi Village’s headman—his public standing was good, and no ill repute had ever reached official ears.” “…That he would be behind such a robbery.” “People are unfathomable.” “Who knows what anyone truly harbors in their heart?”

“Hah!” “A Detective Chief who makes superficial observations wouldn’t last a day... Right—call the Detective Chief and Arrest Officers’ Leader to a separate room immediately.” “I’ll personally give them encouragement.”

Magistrate Shi Wenbin was, true to his name, an exemplary official. When all members had gathered, he proceeded to a separate public hall where he explained the gravity of the incident and delivered an admonitory speech to encourage them.

Then, about a quarter of an hour later, in the government office plaza, the arrest officers—led by the Detective Chief—had already quietly assembled. The arrest officers had two constables leading them. One was Zhu Tong the Beautiful-Bearded Duke, and the other was Lei Heng, nicknamed Winged Tiger.

Each of them carried long swords, bows and arrows, iron spears, and the like, imposingly armored themselves,

“Alright, let’s move out!” they declared with bravado. At that very moment, the evening sky stretched overhead, clouds streaming like war banners.

“Hold it!”

Zhu Tong barked, “Once we enter Dongxi Village, there’ll be no time for dilly-dallying! What’s our move? That’s what matters here!” “That’s right—exactly!” Lei Heng nodded in agreement.

Lei Heng also nodded in agreement, “Detective Chief, what’s the plan?” “Hmm.” “Chao’s mansion has a village road in front.” “And there’s another highway at the back too.” “That’s right.” “Attacking from one side alone would just flush them out.” “Should we split into two groups and charge in?” “Right! Have one squad lie in wait at the rear gate.” “The signal’s a whistle—when it blows, the other squad smashes through the front gate!” “But...” With that, Zhu Tong stroked his magnificent beard again and spoke.

“There’s another escape route at Chao Gai’s mansion,” Zhu Tong declared. “No one else knows about this.” “What?!” The Detective Chief stiffened. “You mean there are three paths?!” “A good officer always keeps one eye closed and the other open.” Zhu Tong stroked his beard. “I’ve had my sights on it.” “That’s disastrous!” He Tao’s voice rose. “A secret passage—exactly what we feared! Zhu Tong! If they slip through that path, they’ll flow out like water! Take half the troops. Seal that route without fail.”

“Nah, since it’s a narrow path, we don’t need that many men.” “Thirty should be enough.” “Then I’ll take the lead!”

Next, both Detective Chief He Tao and Lei Heng mounted their horses, took the lead of their forces, and swiftly charged toward Dongxi Village before night had fully fallen.

“Ah! Ah! It’s a fire!” “It’s a fire!” “That direction is indeed the manor’s residence.” “Look out! “They’ve noticed us too!” The roar of raging voices instantly smashed through the front gate there. Through the crackling, flickering flames, shadows of arrest officers—brandishing tridents, nodachi, clubs, and spears—leapt through the smoke, shouting, “In the name of the law! In the name of the law!” “Flames are erupting from multiple spots! —Hey, hey! Don’t just focus on pushing deeper—keep an eye over here too.” “Hey! Keep your eyes on the shadows around there too.”

Lei Heng’s booming voice grew increasingly hoarse.

That said, in his heart, Lei Heng recalled old sentiments toward Chao Gai and was actually considering how to help him escape. By deliberately creating loud noises and disturbances, he himself disrupted the command structure. Indeed, not only him—Zhu Tong, who had circled to the rear, shared the same intent. Zhu Tong's claim about three paths had been a lie. He split off a contingent under his command and, aiming to clear Chao Gai's escape route, intentionally avoided staying put while putting on a show of chaotic movement.

As for Chao Gai himself, at this time he had not yet left the inner chamber and ordered his servants and able-bodied men to set fires throughout his own house,

“This should do!” “Now then, Gongsun Sheng—let’s entrust our fate to heaven and be off!”

With that, he broke through the side window from within, leapt out, crossed over the earthen wall, and peered outside. Suddenly, Zhu Tong—who had spotted that shadow from the back gate— “Ah! The western earthen wall looks suspicious!” “Circle around there!”

With that, he turned his men toward the opposite direction, and upon arriving there, deliberately stomped the ground with exaggerated force. “So they’re heading for the front gate after all.” “Now—to the front village road!” With that, he commanded. But in such situations, one’s wishes and the outcome of the dice roll often result in an ironic twist of fate. Zhu Tong unexpectedly caught sight of the figures of Chao Gai and Gongsun Sheng dashing like fleeing hares from the eastern path, and Zhu Tong’s own troops also happened to collide with them.

“There they are! Don’t let them escape!” Of course, the subordinate arrest officers knew nothing of this scheme. Chao Gai, being pursued, likewise had no way of knowing their true intentions. With no alternative, he drew his nodachi. “You want to die?” “If you’re so eager to die, then come at me!” Gongsun Sheng likewise brandished the straight-backed precept sword carried by Taoist priests and took his stance. “Anyone who blocks me gets cut down!” As the officers recoiled in fear during this moment of panic, “Gongsun! “Let’s avoid needless killing where possible.” “Run! Run!”

Both of them bolted into the darkness like deer.

At that moment, the Detective Chief on horseback urged his horse forward. And with an uncanny fervor evident in his bearing,

“Zhu Tong, have you seen the bandits?” “Detective Chief, you’re too late. Lend me that horse!” “Wh-what are you going to do?” “If only I’d had a horse, I wouldn’t have let them escape! But alas—I’ve just lost sight of them.” “Hurry, hurry!”

Urged on, the Detective Chief reluctantly lent his horse to Zhu Tong. Zhu Tong looked around at the arrest officers before and behind.

“Hey! Useless fools—follow my horse!” Even when berated, there was no chance for them to keep up on foot with the sudden speed of a whip-struck horse. Zhu Tong deftly shook off his men and swiftly closed in on the two figures fleeing ahead.—Just to be cautious—he glanced back and, seeing no others nearby—called out from behind: “Hey there, Village Chief! “Take the side path! Take the side path! “Head for that forest trail over there!”

Chao Gai, looking back, found it strange—

“Shouldn’t that be your role, Zhu Tong?” “I won’t call this official business. Just... escape much faster!” “Why would you—the pursuer—” “Never mind why. It doesn’t matter.” “The villagers would mourn too.” “You’re a village chief my ropes could never catch.” “At least stay alive—even if you end up fleeing to Mount Liang Marsh.”

“Thank you! I won’t forget these words.”

“Ah, damn! Lei Heng’s forces are aiming for the forest path—they’re coming from that settlement across the way!” “Village Chief—never mind them! Plow straight through those millet fields and keep pushing south, south at all costs!”

Having left those words, Zhu Tong deliberately galloped off in the direction from which Lei Heng had emerged.

When Lei Heng saw Zhu Tong galloping over on horseback, he immediately called out.

“Zhu Tong, isn’t it? What happened to the bandits?” “I’m the one who wants to ask *you* that. Ain’t there any suspicious activity in the village?” “Hmm... The Detective Chief was shouting like you were about to make an arrest, but—”

“Nah, we ended up chasing air.” “So—that forest path there, perhaps?”

“Then there’s no other path.” “Now, drive them into the forest!” This was precisely a battle of wits between the two men. Moreover, in their hearts, they had both been praying for Chao Gai’s safe escape—so there was ultimately no chance he would be caught. After midnight passed, their stomachs grew empty, and all the arrest officers had become utterly exhausted. Lei Heng and Zhu Tong, as if by unspoken agreement, lamented loudly enough for all around to hear: “What ridiculously quick bastards they are!” “Phantom-like apparitions—that’s what they are!”

“Moreover, tonight of all nights had become as dark as a lacquer pot. Let’s just give up already—we’ve done all we could.” This report left even the Detective Chief disheartened. But it was He Tao who looked even more haggard. He had brought subordinates who had just arrived from Jizhou and made thorough preparations, but being unfamiliar with the terrain and unable to join forces with Lei Heng and Zhu Tong’s group, they ended up positioned in the second line. “Tch. What a botched mess this is,” he thought. “More importantly—how could this He Tao ever show his face again at the Jizhou Magistrate Office?”

Moreover，that very night，in the magistrate’s office at the county seat，Magistrate Shi Wenbin—ever diligent in his duties—waited all night for the report to arrive without even removing his clothes. “There’s no helping it!”

Though he lamented, Magistrate Shi Wenbin neither doubted the law nor entertained the thought of questioning the subordinates who served under it.

“Though regrettably Chao Gai was allowed to escape, there must still be many guests, able-bodied men, and hired hands at the manor.” “Have they at least been brought back?”

“We’ve bound and brought about two neighbors, two houseguests, and three hired hands as witnesses.” “Immediately open the White Sand Interrogation Room and commence questioning.” This interrogation alone made the entire next day pass fruitlessly. Yet it wasn’t wholly ineffective. One of the lodgers finally cracked, spilling everything he knew—that Chao Gai and Gongsun Sheng had escaped from the flames. What’s more, it was fully recorded how Wu Yong the village teacher, Liu Tang the Red-Haired Demon, and others had departed earlier to rendezvous at the three Ruan brothers’ home in Shijie Village and discuss entering Liangshan Marsh.

With only that written confession and the magistrate’s reply in hand, He Tao finally endured his humiliating shame and returned to Jizhou. —And when he recounted everything in detail to the impatiently waiting magistrate, the magistrate— “Very well! Then bring Bai Sheng out from his cell to the White Sand Interrogation Room once more and verify the identities of the three Ruan brothers.”

Refusing to despair, he instead kindled a thread of desperate willpower from that clue and issued a stern command.

Bai Sheng, now utterly broken, had already spilled all the dirt. With this information secured, after several hours of secret discussions in a closed room, He Tao—his weary face now flushed red—

“This arrest operation’s turned into a proper disaster now,” He Tao declared, taking a gulp of tea before laying out the details to his gathered informants. “Damn trouble! Shijie Village—that’s on this side of Mount Liang Marsh.” The informants all chimed in at once. “That area’s the worst hellhole in all Shandong—even the fishermen say so. The inlet’s nothing but reeds and rushes as far as you can see. Between ’em lie endless stretches of water—not quite rivers, not quite marshes. And the streams twist so bad, it’s no place for decent folk to live.”

“Trying to catch bandits who’ve holed up in a place like that is like chasing wild birds empty-handed.” “And given who we’re up against, you know.” “Unless they march in boldly with a grand government troop formation—using horses and boats, and not some meager number of arrest officers—it’s futile to go.” To be honest, even He Tao lacked confidence. He seized this opportunity and reported his subordinates’ words verbatim to the Magistrate, urging a reconsideration of the arrest force’s composition.

“Indeed, that is reasonable.”

The magistrate showed a grave determination and,

“Very well. Then I shall assign another suitable constable to accompany you. And increase the number of men to five hundred—for equipment, you may open and use the second armory. Moreover, this is an order from Beijing Daming Prefecture, and it also follows Minister Cai’s strict directives. They are undeniably proper government troops. This is no ordinary arrest operation. March forth boldly, brandishing the might of government troops!”

This was truly an unprecedented incident in the history of the Jizhou Magistrate Office. There had been no recent example of such a massive manhunt force being deployed.

During these several days,

Even within a single fishing household nestled among Shijie Village’s dense reeds, suspicious movements were being carried out day and night. The three brothers—Standing Earth Tai Sui Ruan Xiao’er, Short-Lived Erlang Ruan Xiaowu, and Living Yama Ruan Xiaoxiu—suddenly welcomed Chao Gai, Wu Yong, Liu Tang, and Gongsun Sheng into this cramped fishing hut in the waterside village; on that very day,

“Here,”

With that, they loaded their boat with all manner of household goods and, wielding their trusty oars, promptly relocated their home to an even more remote solitary house on a lake islet.

“Come now, everyone,” said Ruan Xiaowu as he began preparing wine that evening, while Xiao’er and Xiaoxiu started cooking. “Tonight let’s have a proper housewarming drink.” “Xiao’er’s maid and my old mother were sent away with money and hidden far off, so our group has no hindrances left.” “And Master,” added Xiaoxiu to Wu Yong, “no matter how desperate those arrest officers get, they won’t easily reach us here on the lake.” “Leave tomorrow’s worries for tomorrow. Tonight, stretch out your limbs to your heart’s content.”

“Xiaoxiu. Now about our next steps—to cross over to Mount Liang Marsh, we’ll have to take the waterways eventually. But how exactly should we go about it?”

“That’s exactly it.”

After they had gathered around a table laden with wine and food, Xiaoxiu spoke. “After all, it’s a place that’s hard to approach—what they call impregnable, I tell you. Not even among fellow fishermen is there anyone who knows a decent landing spot. …So here’s the thing—you land on the Shandong Highway, go to the tea shop at Li Family Crossroads, and get permission there.”

Chao Gai interjected between sips.

“What’s this? That tea shop you mentioned—surely you don’t mean its owner is allied with Mount Liang Marsh?” “W-well, that’s exactly right. Just as you said, Mr. Chao Gai.” “Huh! So the tea shop owner’s part of Liangshan… Then what?” “Those wanting to join must approach Zhu Gui—he’s always keeping watch there. If he nods approval, he’ll notch a fearsome whistling arrow and loose it toward Mount Liang’s far shore. That’s the signal. Then a boat comes gliding through the reeds to fetch you—that’s how it works. No other way across.”

“Hahaha.” Everyone laughed.

“Ah! So this is what they mean when they say it surpasses all hearsay.” “Hearing that, even those not being pursued would want to cross over at least once.”

On the lake at night, not a single light dared to appear. At last, the wine had circulated and lively banter begun to rise when a fisherman whom the three brothers had long watched over came speeding by boat to deliver news. "This is trouble, folks! Five-six hundred government troops are nearly at the village—they say the whole place is in chaos!"

“Is that so?”—the brothers said calmly. “You did well to inform us. Here, have a drink before you go.” As if in disbelief, the man vanished at once. There was a momentary silence, but the seven’s idle talk quickly resumed. “Well now, they’ve graced us earlier than expected. Since they’re government troops, they must’ve at least prepared a little.” “Brother Xiao’er. Now that they’ve come, we won’t be singing any weak tunes.” “Of course. It’s different on land. We’re river imps. We’ll drag every last one of ’em into the water and let ’em get a good long look at the bottom!”

“As for the leftovers—we’ll skewer ’em on our harpoons!” Then Gongsun Sheng, half-mocking and cup in hand, deliberately adopted a solemn air and said: “Now brothers—your vigor is commendable, but five hundred men await. Such crude methods are beneath you. Why not first witness this Gongsun Sheng’s techniques?” Chao Gai, who had remained silent until now, turned to Wu Yong and spoke for the first time.

“Master, you’re elderly. Moreover, beyond brush and paper, you’ve no knowledge of battlefields. If you’d oblige—load only the vital cargo onto a small boat, row it near Li Family Crossroads’ tea shop that Xiaoxiu mentioned earlier, and wait there until we follow. Right—I’ll have Liu Tang accompany you. Hey, Red Horse—follow Master and get out of here before dawn. Don’t fret about what comes after—I’m counting on you.”

To the river imps of the autumn-chanting lake island fell the task of luring a hundred boats into fiery ambush.

The wind was cold enough to make one’s body tense. The water and sky were both a clear, deep blue—a great autumn lake.

The lake, like a sea, drew in countless rivers of Shandong, and its surging waters seemed to be expelled somewhere into Shandong’s outer seas. “Ah, that must be it—the makeshift island where those seven fled after hastily abandoning Shijie Village.” Standing at the bow of the lead boat, Detective Chief He Tao shielded his eyes with one hand. Dozens of large and small patrol boats followed close behind, government flags fluttering at their bows, loaded with soldiers’ bows, spears, and tridents, chasing forward while churning up white waves.

Then from somewhere came the sound of a stylish fishing song. When they looked, from behind a reed-concealed sandbank emerged a lone fisherman steering a small boat toward them. One of the arrest officers shouted in shock. "Ah! It's Ruan Xiaowu!"

“Ah! It’s Ruan Xiaowu!” “What? That’s him?” The arrest officers’ fleet was a motley assortment of sculling boats, rowing boats, poling boats, and vessels gathered for the hunt. At a single command, they fanned out and surrounded a lone small boat from a distance. With an oar handle in one hand, Ruan Xiaowu cackled.

“Well now, look who’s here—officials! Are arrest officers and locusts just determined to threaten folks with their sheer numbers? You spineless wretches!”

He Tao himself was closing in, "You audacious wretch! There! Shoot them down with your bows—use your bows!" "Hey—don't make me laugh. Lackeys of high officials who bully the people! You lot are what they call bandit-officials! Prepare yourselves—we'll capture you instead!"

Instantly, a storm of arrows roared, enveloping him and the small boat. But at the same moment, with a great splash that left a pillar of water suspended in midair, Ruan Xiaowu's figure was already visible through the azure depths, swimming about like a monstrous fish.

“Damn it! Don’t let them escape!” Even when they shot arrows into the water, the arrows proved useless; even when they stirred with tridents or hurled spears, all that remained was a field of bubbles flickering mockingly like laughter. Having no choice, they proceeded to row further into the reed thicket. Before long, another mocking hum could be heard. When they looked closely this time, the shadow of a small boat carrying two people crossed right under their noses with speed akin to a water strider.

“Ah! Ah! “It’s Ruan Xiaoxiu and Ruan Xiao’er!” “Capture them! What are you doing?!”

As He Tao reprimanded them, at the distant bow: "He Tao! In this river, there ain't no fish dumb enough to bite your hook." "Or maybe you're catchin' dragonflies?"

A man wearing a bamboo-bark hat and half-straw raincoat, gripping a tube spear, bared his white teeth in mockery. In a fit of rage, He Tao hurled his spear—only to watch it plunge uselessly into the water. Though the swarm of boats launched coordinated attacks, the small craft ahead ignored them completely, darting at full speed into a distant waterway. The boat’s speed defied all comparison. “Now’s our chance!” He Tao rallied his men. “Both banks are makeshift islands already. This waterway must dead-end. Corner those two now!”

However, their prediction proved wrong. It was entirely the opposite. The further they advanced, the narrower the waterway became, and with numerous patrol boats pressing recklessly into it, their bows and sterns, oars and paddles became entangled until finally even allies found themselves completely immobilized. "Enough with this floundering!" He Tao berated his subordinates. "You lot were supposed to be sharp-witted officials serving magistrates on land, weren't you?!" "What in blazes is this?! Even on water—is this pathetic?! Fall back slightly and head for the marsh on the side—to the marsh!"

Immediately after, he divided them into groups of ten or twenty each, “This makeshift island isn’t even spacious! Even if you comb through every reed root down to their last fiber—you’ll find this place has its limits! Go find those bastards’ hideout! No—signal immediately when you find it!”

and sent them ashore.

However, despite waiting endlessly, not even a single one of those several groups returned. Before long, the sun sank lower, and both the bleak water and reeds were dyed crimson.

“Hey! Five or six of you—get on this small boat and follow me! I’ll go around and see for myself.”

Across the crimson marsh’s surface, his swift boat—a pitch-black shadow—rowed back and forth between shores for two or three kilometers. A peasant’s shadow appeared on the bank, shouldering a hoe. He Tao called out to it: “Where is this place, peasant?” “What’s with you, sir?” “As you can see—I’m a government official.” “What business brings you here? This place is called Duantou Ditch—a dead end in the marsh, I tell ya.” “There should be a fishing hut belonging to the Ruan brothers here.” “Ah—then it’s right there in the shade of the woods, I tell ya.”

“Ah, much obliged!” Before He Tao could rise to his feet, three of his subordinate constables had already leapt ashore ahead of him. The moment their soles touched soil came a shriek—He Tao stared in shock. Peasants’ hoes that had lain in ambush struck down all three men simultaneously. “Damn!”

Leaping from the boat’s edge, He Tao and two more subordinates jumped to the shore—when suddenly, a creature resembling a water imp emerged halfway from the water, seized He Tao’s leg, and in an instant sank deep into the marsh depths with a gurgle…

“Hey, Xiaoxiu, Xiaoxiu! Quit dawdling and surface already.”

Before long.

The elder brother Ruan Xiao’er looked across the water’s surface and called out. Then, from a stretch of shore some distance away, came raucous laughter. There stood his younger brother Xiaoxiu, shaking water from his soaked body—he’d surfaced unnoticed. Beside him lay He Tao’s form, discarded in the grass like a soiled rag. “So that’s where you were!” “Just like we bragged—snatched up the constable general neat as you please.” “Now comes the real work.” “He Tao! Show us that ugly mug of yours!”

“Forgive me, brothers. Look at me like this.”

“Bwahahaha! Callin’ us ‘brothers’ now, are ya?” “Hey! You—stuffin’ yer belly with government silver, livin’ high, then swaggerin’ through common folk like ya own the place—think kneelin’ before us sayin’ ‘brothers’ makes it right? …That settle it for ya?” “I got an eighty-year-old mother at home. Just spare this one life, I beg ya!”

“Oh ho, the waterworks have arrived!” “What should we do, brother?” “Why don’t you roll me up in a mat and toss me into the bottom of the boat?” “If you want to finish me off, anytime.” “Alright, they’re here… Then I’ll call ’em.” Ruan Xiao’er’s finger whistle echoed across the water with terrifying intensity. Suddenly breaking through the dusk, several fishermen came swarming. Entrusting He Tao’s mat-rolled body to those men, the two brothers Xiao’er and Xiaoxiu boarded separate small boats and rowed away to parts unknown.

“There’s something wrong with today.” “Our Commander He Tao went off and hasn’t come back—not even a sparrow’s whisper.” “What in blazes is happening?” “Look at that foul cloud.” “This is bad.” “Even the sky’s gone all twisted!” The evening had shimmered with stardust when suddenly reeds hissed and a tempest churned the waves. Then came a freakish wind—roaring cold drizzle and all—heaving clusters of ink-black moorings like mountains.

“Ah! Dear heavens!” “The boats are crashing together like tumbling potatoes! This is bad! Real bad! The boats are gonna get smashed!” The real danger was exactly that. The boat edges creaked, oars snapped, rudders split.—The dozens of boats of various sizes that had been moored here since evening, waiting for He Tao and his comrades’ signal, now began to churn like leaves caught in a whirlpool.

Moreover, that was not all. From far upwind in the marsh came two massive balls of fire gliding across the dark water's surface—Ah! Before any commotion could erupt, they were already upon them. These were great crimson lotuses—two small boats heaped mountain-high with dried brushwood. No sooner had they arrived than the flaming kindling collided with the boat fleet, scattering fierce flames everywhere. There was no defense. Fire leapt from vessel to vessel, whirling madly. Those who lost their footing resembled frogs. With nowhere to flee but into the water, they bobbed up and down while sparks rained upon them.

However, those spared were the ones who had scrambled ashore. There,

“Kneel!” There stood the owner of the precept sword who had been lying in wait. The brilliance of his blade-work lived up to his epithet “Cloud-Dragon”—this was none other than Taoist Gongsun Sheng himself. Alongside the three brothers—Ruan Xiaoxiu with his guanqiang, Ruan Xiao’er and Ruan Xiaowu swinging nodachi and oars—a dozen fishermen from Ukisu Island joined the fray, “Let not a single one escape alive!”

And so they chased around the panicked government troops. Moreover, everywhere they fled in confusion also turned into flames of wildfire.

Before dawn had broken, all patrol boats—large and small—lay capsized. Pitifully few government soldiers could have survived that night.—Soon night paled to dawn. Across the water’s surface, thin mist clung low with yellow smoke lingering beneath, while strange birdcries split the morning air with piercing shrills. “How about it, He Tao? Had enough yet?” “Alright, now it’s your turn!” “Now that you’re a captured head, even if you pray like some mud-dwelling turtle, you won’t catch up! You’d better die cleanly.”

The three Ruan brothers pulled He Tao, still rolled up in a mat, from the bottom of last night’s small boat and dragged him onto the shore.

Sitting a short distance away, smirking as they watched, were Gongsun Sheng and Chao Gai—Chao Gai had confined himself to shadow command and hadn’t drawn a single blade during last night’s bloodbath. “Hey, three brothers—” said Chao Gai, seizing the moment. “You planning to finish him off?” “Enough, enough.” “What’s the use in killing trash like him?” “Instead of that, just let him go.” “What? You’re saying we should let him go?” “Such mercy would only earn the resentment of Jizhou’s common folk and townspeople.”

“Ah, once we send him back after showin’ him this much, he won’t have any fight left to bully the people. Plus, it’s better we have him report every detail—straight from his own mouth—to the Jizhou Magistrate’s Office and even Minister Cai up in the capital. We ain’t petty thieves. We’re confrontin’ the rotten high officials and wicked bureaucrats of this Song Dynasty. Just let him go—he’s small fry.” “Tch, that bastard’s got nine lives,” Ruan Xiao’er spat. “Hey Xiaoxiu—Master Chao’s orders leave us no choice. Take this wretch to Shijie Village’s entrance and dump ’im there.”

“Alright, I’m off for a bit!” Xiaoxiu had set out in a fast boat and returned some two hours later. He reported to the four rebels: “If we’d just let him go, that bastard might’ve spun wild tales or gone back to lording over the common folk. So I sliced both his ears off with my dagger.” “Then the shitheel clutched his face—red as a fireball—and went darting off like some scarlet dragonfly!”

“Well, that should do it.” Chao Gai gave a wry smile, and the other three laughed together. That very afternoon, they crossed the river and gathered in full force—all seven members—at Mount Liang Marsh’s ferry landing where Wu Yong and Liu Tang had gone ahead to wait: specifically, at the fake teahouse operated by Zhu Gui in Li Family’s Crossroads.

Lin Chong denounced Wang Lun to his face and stabbed him to death at a luncheon meeting. There stood Zhu Gui, Hanji Hulü, who had maintained a single fake teahouse and kept watch over Mount Liang Marsh’s ferry landing for many years—yet never before today had he welcomed such grand guests.

Moreover, they were a group of seven, each one a notable figure. Zhu Gui, who typically looked down on every human he encountered, seemed to harbor some measure of fear toward this group. From Zhiduoxing Wu Yong, the eldest among the seven, he thoroughly listened to every minute detail of the circumstances that had led them here—including each member’s age, epithet, surname, and given name—and no sooner had he compiled this into a written report than he ordered one of his underlings to deliver it to the mountain stronghold on the opposite shore. “There is nothing to offer, but please wait until permission arrives from our leader.”

That evening, he slaughtered a sheep, opened wine jugs, and entertained the entire group.

The reply from Mount Liang Marsh had arrived at midnight.

At daybreak, a large ship had been brought around. Zhu Gui boarded as their guide. The morning's iridescent clouds were magnificent. The endless reed-covered shoal made one doubt whether it bore blossoms of violet, gold, azure and silver, while the water—colorless yet containing infinite hues—resembled lapis lazuli. After rowing onward briefly, from the shadow of an approaching river inlet suddenly surged the sounds of gongs, drums and flutes. Looking out, they saw a formation of scout boats. Observing guest protocol, they played welcoming music.

Furthermore, after passing two river mouths, they soon saw numerous flags and lines of people on the shore of Jinsha Beach. Wang Lun, the leader, along with the entire host from the stronghold, had emerged from the gate to stand in welcome. The seven men disembarked from the ship and advanced onto the solemn sandy shore.

Having received Chao Gai’s greeting, Wang Lun declared grandly: “You are the renowned Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King Chao Gai.” “I have also learned the esteemed names of your companions from last night’s letter.” “You are all renowned individuals—indeed, for our stronghold, there could be no greater honor.” “You honor me too much.” “When you speak so highly of me, I can only shrink with humility.” “I am but an uneducated man who once served as a village headman.” “The rest of our company are now outcasts with no place in this world—fallen people of the streets.” “We can only cling to your benevolence.”

“Well, let us save further formalities for here… In any case, please proceed to the mountain’s main stronghold.”

With that, Wang Lun took the lead. Pavilions layered upon pavilions—Mount Liang Marsh’s citadel, so to speak. This area was called the “Assembly Hall.”

In the elevated section of the hall, Wang Lun and his followers formed a left column and were seated, while Chao Gai and his group took their places on the right. The petty commanders of the stronghold were all downstairs. There, formal introductions were conducted in turn, followed by the sound of drums and music, words of welcome, and the like,

“You must be tired. We shall discuss this formally at a later time.”

With that, the guests, led by Zhu Gui, first crossed the guest corridor and withdrew to the guest quarters' building.

Now from afternoon onward came a grand feast. Two cows, ten sheep and five pigs were transformed into every imaginable dish; the liquor flowed as authentic Shandong brew while autumn fruits from these mountains abounded—not to mention no shortage of hidden virtuosos within the stronghold. The melodies of strings and wind instruments resounded across the waters until even the clouds seemed to echo their refrain. “……Ah,” he slurred drunkenly. “Been too long since I felt this way.” “No day could match this delight!” So thoroughly pleased was Chao Gai that he kept repeating these words even after retiring to his private guest chamber. Then turning toward Wu Yong at his side—

“Master, truly they say ‘the world isn’t all bad.’ The warmth of Wang Lun’s heart—welcoming us wanderers with nowhere to turn through such benevolence. I don’t know how to express my gratitude. I must repay this debt of kindness.”

“Ahahahaha.” “Hahahaha.” “Oh, Master—what are you sneering at?”

“It’s because you’re too much of a soft touch.” “Are you saying Chao Gai’s a pushover?”

“That’s right. You kept saying that over and over while clinking cups with Wang Lun at the banquet. How you went on about ‘Even if we turn bandit, we won’t become heartless scoundrels,’ laying bare all your grievances about society’s ills and rage against misrule—” “Why’s that wrong?” “Not the content—no. But when the talk turned to our exploits—the stratagem at Duantou Ditch, how we shook off He Tao, Gongsun Sheng’s valor and the three brothers’ heroics—Wang Lun’s face went utterly pale. Worse—his eyes showed fox-like suspicion, and he seemed to secretly loathe and fear you... us.”

"Hmm." "I hadn't noticed that." "His lieutenants Du Xuan and Song Wan are mediocre—only Leopard Head Lin Chong stands out as exceptional." "They say Lin Chong formerly served as a military tactics instructor for the Imperial Guard in the capital." "I doubt he genuinely submits to Wang Lun from the heart."

“I had long heard Wang Lun was a petty man, but now that we’ve come here and found ourselves in this predicament—” “No—this stalemate cannot persist. I have a stratagem. Let’s make their inner circle turn on each other—stir up one good storm of conflict. Then we’ll sweep away all these accumulated grievances and restore proper order and hierarchy.”

It was the next morning. Lin Chong—who had been discussed the previous night—came to pay a morning visit.

When Wu Yong expressed gratitude on everyone’s behalf for the previous night’s hospitality, Lin Chong smiled faintly and said: “Ah, true hospitality isn’t about formalities or material things.” “In that regard, there may have been moments where I offended your sensibilities—but as a mere low-ranking member of this stronghold, I inevitably fall short in many ways.” “I beg your forgiveness.” “Your words suffice,” Wu Yong replied warmly before continuing: “Your esteemed name has long been celebrated even in the Eastern Capital.” “Yet why would someone like you—having earned Gao Qiu’s disfavor, that powerful figure of the Song court—be exiled to a penal colony like Cangzhou and ultimately find yourself reduced to such a place as this?”

“Gao Qiu.”

Surely, Lin Chong bit his lip, “Just hearing Gao Qiu’s name makes my hair bristle. The suffering of the penal colony cannot be recounted without tears. ...But through a letter of recommendation from my benefactor Lord Chai Jin, I was able to join here.” “When you say ‘benefactor,’ do you mean that great lord known throughout the land as Xiao Xuanfeng Chai Jin?” “Indeed, that person is said to be descended from the ancient Zhou Emperor.” “Ho. With such a recommendation from that man—and given your distinguished record and skills—why does Wang Lun not seat you in the stronghold’s chief position?”

“Hahaha.” “As for this humble one, I would be content even beneath his shadow.” “However, for you all, there will inevitably arise fears of discourtesy.” “That is a tad worrisome.” “You have kindly come with the intention of joining our alliance, and I feel as though I have added flowers to the stronghold, but as for that point…”

“Is it because Wang Lun isn’t truly pleased at heart?” “Jealousy is that man’s flaw. He lacks the magnanimity to accept others and nurses endless suspicions. Since I’ve already spoken this much, let me confess—truth be told, this guesthouse too is but a mean lodge beyond the pass, no better than a ramshackle room for transient travelers. For this discourtesy as well, I must apologize.” “No—this was not your arrangement. Think nothing of it... Yet if Wang Lun detests us to such degree, we could withdraw at once to preserve the stronghold’s harmony.”

“Wait.” “On the contrary, that would only stir discord between the Chief and this humble one’s men.” “Though Chief Wang Lun clearly intends to properly expel you all, this heaven-sent meeting makes it truly difficult for me to bid farewell.” “No—how could I part with everyone here in such emptiness?” “Well then—entrust this matter to me and keep your hearts calm.”

Lin Chong left, his ears faintly red. Then around noon, from the South Mountain water stronghold, there came another invitation for lunch that day.

To attend the venue, everyone began neatly preparing themselves. In the meantime, Chao Gai whispered in a low voice into Wu Yong's ear.

“What do you think of this lunch banquet?” “Something is bound to happen… Undoubtedly, Lin Chong will be the one to light the fuse.” “Then will you just stand by and watch?”

“If they move, let them move. If Wang Lun and Lin Chong’s fiery exchange starts fading into some wishy-washy truce, I’ll cut in—use this silver tongue of mine to fan their quarrel hotter. Just watch!” “Now that’s intriguing.” Chao Gai fully committed to the scheme now. Wu Yong then briefed the others. “...When we reach the breaking point, I’ll twist my beard like this with my left hand. The moment you see that, everyone draws their hidden daggers. Clear? The beard’s your signal.”

When they left the guesthouse, they encountered Song Wan who had come to meet them on horseback. The stronghold's underlings carrying seven mountain palanquins loaded the seven guests into them, wound their way along the mountainside, crossed the ridge path, and eventually transported them to a pavilion on South Mountain. The pavilion faced the water, its railings offering views extending to the open sea—the scenery was nothing short of sublime. The rows of hosts and guests divided into left and right with arranged chairs. Beneath the rolled-up bead curtains, gazing at the pond garden of the rear pavilion—the swaying lotus leaves and fragrant hibiscus blooms—one might doubt whether such beauty could exist within a mountain stronghold. Soon wine began circulating freely as laughter and conversation flourished, and the luncheon banquet finally seemed to reach its peak.

However, whenever the topic turned to the seven joining their ranks—no matter who broached it—Wang Lun would immediately divert the conversation elsewhere. Each time, an awkward emptiness would form. And an awkward, mismatched conversation was forced out from the mouths of Song Wan and Du Xuan.

Since it was lunchtime, the cups and dishes were soon cleared away, and sweet wine and fruit platters were brought out instead. Rather, an even more splendid platter had five silver ingots placed on it. “By the way, I would like to offer you gallant heroes a modest farewell gift.”

Wang Lun suddenly directed the platter of silver ingots toward the table where Chao Gai sat. "This unexpected visit brings me, Wang Lun, no greater joy." "Yet as you see, this mountain stronghold is surrounded by stormy waves—we might as well be sharing a rainwater puddle." "This is no Dragon King's palace." "...So take this modest silver, compare provinces, seek refuge in some grander fortress elsewhere, and fully cultivate your noble ambitions there."

Chao Gai, perhaps thinking "Here it comes," let out a faint wry snort through his nose. "Oh, this is quite the unexpected consideration." "Though we wanderers may appear destitute in your eyes, truth be told we've coin to spare." "Your thoughtful measure is unnecessary." "Why won't you accept it?" "Let us abandon these courtesies." "I've glimpsed your true intent." "Then we shall take our leave."

“Now, there’s no need to phrase it thus.” “I’m not outright refusing your entry into our ranks.” “In truth, when winter comes, provisions and wine grow scarce within this great household, and dwellings become insufficient.” Having listened in silence until now, Lin Chong finally ignited his twin eyebrows like pale flames and bellowed from his seat at the table’s far end: “Cease your lies, Wang Lun!” “Wh-what did you say?” “You—Lin Chong! How dare you address your chief in this manner?”

“I won’t hear this! From the very start when I first sought shelter at this stronghold, didn’t you give me the same empty speech? And yet your granaries overflow with stockpiled grain!” “Silence, ingrate! Only for Master Chai Jin’s sake have I kept a talentless leech like you fed here—and now you grow insolent?” “Talentless?” “What have you accomplished since joining this stronghold?”

“Indeed, I’ve made no contributions at all.” “However, aren’t you also just an incompetent figurehead?” “A failed scholar who once sought an official career—after wandering to the ends of the earth, you finally found this nest and gathered thugs. That’s all there is to it!” “You’ve said it now, Lin Chong! I’ll make you regret this later!” “Oh? Why not show me right now?” “Hah! Don’t move!” “Don’t move!” In that instant, Wu Yong spread his arms wide and stood blocking between the two. “Now, wait a moment.” “...In short, our coming here was the mistake.” “Mr. Chao Gai.”

“Oh, Master.” “What is it?”

“As you’ve seen, we’ve brought nothing but discord to this stronghold through our presence.” “Let us cleanly take our leave and withdraw from here, shall we?”

When he gave a signal with his eyes, the other five all at once noisily rose from their chairs. “Come on, let’s go!” As one cluster, they began descending the pavilion’s staircase.

Wang Lun also seemed somewhat uneasy about this. Panicking like one giving chase,

“Ah, wait!” “That’s a bit hasty.” “Let us drink another cup to smooth things over, share a pleasant toast, and then part ways.” The moment he did, the chair at the far end toppled sideways. The table’s fruit tray also overturned. Stomping heavily, Lin Chong’s large frame began heading straight toward Wang Lun.

The moment he saw this, Wu Yong—

“Ahem!”

With a cough, he stroked his long beard once to the side with his left hand. As if that was the signal, “Ah, stop this infighting!”

From halfway down the stairs, they all came clattering back. The moment they returned, Ruan Xiao’er latched onto Du Xuan, Xiaoxiu grabbed Zhu Gui, and Xiaowu seized Song Wan. Then, Chao Gai and Liu Tang firmly drew close to both sides of Wang Lun,

“Now, don’t be so angry,” they said while gripping the belt around his waist from beneath their sleeves, refusing to let go. “What disgrace! Wang Lun! Is this how a leader behaves? Know shame, you failed scholar! You hypocrite draped in righteousness!”

Meanwhile, Lin Chong kept up his barrage of insults. Though Wu Yong appeared to block him by lightly holding back Lin Chong's chest, his eyes remained fixed on Wang Lun's figure. "You're like a putrid woman!" "And you dare call yourself chief of Liangshan Marsh? It's laughable!" "No—this Mount Liang Marsh isn't yours alone!" "You jealous bandit leader—bite your tongue and die!" "Otherwise, get the hell out yourself!"

Lin Chong continued his tirade. Under this frontal abuse, Wang Lun trembled violently throughout his entire body and stamped his feet in frustration, yet couldn’t advance even a single pace. Moreover, with subordinates like Du Xuan, Zhu Gui, and Song Wan being restrained and the charged atmosphere around them, he himself refrained from taking action— “Hah! Y-you lot… Are you watching as I, Wang Lun, am being insulted like this?!” “Hey!” “Where are my allies?” “Other underlings! Seize and restrain Lin Chong! You must cut him down!”

Wang Lun roared furiously. Then, to the tip of his nose— “Absolutely right! Go ahead and cut him down!” “Now, strike him down!” With that, Wu Yong withdrew his hands and pushed Lin Chong’s body away. Wang Lun reached for his sword. However, it wouldn’t come free. But even before that, Leopard Head’s blue forehead collided low and heavily near his solar plexus. Simultaneously, the dagger in his hand—deeply embedded in Wang Lun’s abdomen—quietly gouged out the agony of paralyzed indecision. —Drip. Drip. With plip after plip, the fresh blood—drawn out in thread-like streams—painted a large scarlet peony like a carpet pattern at the floor’s edge.

—. With a thud, Lin Chong released Wang Lun’s massive frame from his grasp. Chao Gai and his men had also been concealing unsheathed blades in one hand all along. Wu Yong declared in a booming voice.

“Let anyone with objections step forward here.” “From this moment onward, we shall install Leopard Head Lin Chong as our chief and seat him in the leadership of our stronghold.” “Any objections?” Zhu Gui, Du Xuan, Song Wan, and the others had collapsed onto the floor and could only kowtow repeatedly. The subordinates and minor leaders outside the hall all erupted in a clamor but then fell completely silent.

However, only Lin Chong was shocked and cried out like this. “That’s an absurd proposal! I can’t believe these words come from you, Master! This leaves me no ground to stand on! It would mean I murdered the leader to steal his position! I cannot do such a thing! I’d become a laughingstock among comrades who live by righteousness! If you force this upon me against my will... Then I’ll have no choice but to vanish from here! But before that—I beg you all—please hear my opinion first! Well? Will you listen or not?”

“Let us hear it!” they all answered in unison.

“—If it is none other than your esteemed opinion.” “In solemn silence, I must humbly inquire.”

A person's act of mercy gratified the two crones' greed,

The concubine's alleyway residence saw willows flowering unnaturally.

Now. Lin Chong’s proposal was as follows.

“By nature, people possess an innate capacity,” “Lin Chong lacks such capacity.” “It is Master Chao Gai who should stand above others.” “I propose we honor Master Chao as chief of our mountain stronghold from this day forth.” “I earnestly ask all of you to approve this.” “No—absolutely not!”

Chao Gai waved his hand and firmly refused. He insisted again and again that he was not suited for such a role, but with the entire hall already erupting in unanimous applause, Lin Chong swiftly— “Then, I trust there are no objections from you esteemed brothers.” “Chief Chao, it is the assembly’s decision!” With that, he took his hand, seated him on the foremost chair in the formal seating area, placed an incense burner stand before him, removed Wang Lun’s headgear, and crowned Chao Gai’s head with it. “Now then, Master Wu Yong. “Master, as our military strategist, please take the second seat.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Wu Yong protested. “I’m but a country schoolmaster—the strategies of Sun Wu lie beyond my ken.” “Your modesty ill serves us, Master,” Lin Chong countered. “Should you persist thus, complications will surely follow.” He turned to address the assembly. “Thirdly, let Taoist Gongsun Sheng assume the deputy strategist’s seat beneath Master’s command.” “This arrangement falters,” Wu Yong interjected. “Master Lin Chong—you should occupy that position yourself.” Though all urged him forward, Lin Chong yielded once more, taking the fourth seat instead. The fifth seat went to Liu Tang, sixth to Ruan Xiao’er, seventh to Xiaowu, eighth to Xiaoxiu. Then Du Xuan claimed ninth, Song Wan tenth, and Zhu Gui eleventh—thus completing Mount Liang Marsh’s newly restructured leadership.

The following day, this was proclaimed throughout the mountain, and the assembly hall was cleansed. At the altar enshrining the stars, they offered fresh blood from cattle and horses and swore an oath to heaven, earth, and deities.

“Now’s the time to drink—so drink! For three days， feast and revel to your heart’s content!”

The celebrations continued every day. The island was in a festive mood. Both the granary and wine storehouse were thrown open. However, even stomachs had their limits. The seven or eight hundred followers were thoroughly sated. However, after that, they arrayed swords, bows, arrows, halberds, and spears at the stronghold gates; conducted military drills on land and naval combat training on water; indeed, even their morning and evening discipline became far stricter than before.

Yet with Chao Gai's magnanimity, Wu Yong's erudition, and the valor of Gongsun Sheng and Lin Chong naturally overshadowing others, not a trace of discontent could be found—even if one were to look for it. On the contrary, a kind of harmonious joy was fostered, and they further honed their unity and chivalrous spirit together. Soon, winter arrived at the gray open sea.

Frost-white reeds and rushes had boats frozen to them; the calls of wild geese were incessant.

“How is the wife I left behind in the capital doing?”

Suddenly, even upon seeing wild geese pass by, Lin Chong felt his guts wrenching alone. When he confided these feelings to Wu Yong and Chao Gai on one occasion, they agreed it was only natural and promptly dispatched someone to bring his wife to the mountain stronghold. In a shadowed corner of these mountains, there existed a settlement housing the elderly mothers and families of the Ruan brothers who had been summoned earlier, along with what appeared to be an entire community of children. However, according to the messenger who returned after two months of efforts, Lin Chong's wife had continued enduring persecution from Minister Gao and his son before being forced into a shameful marriage arrangement, ultimately taking her own life—her father had likewise hanged himself in despair.

"...I see," Lin Chong thought. How bitterly she must have resented it. And yet she had maintained her chastity for him, her husband, to such an extent. A single tear spilled from Lin Chong's eyes. The sight of such a man weeping made Chao Gai and Wu Yong feel their own eyelids grow hot. With spring's arrival came a report to Mount Liang Marsh—three to four hundred ships of the reorganized government anti-bandit fleet now filled the waters from Shijie Village's inlet out to sea, lying in wait for their moment.

Moreover, this time’s commander-in-chief was a man named Huang An of the Jizhou Magistrate Office, leading 2,000 troops, with military preparations said to be far more formidable than before.

“Come now, welcome! The ice has thawed, and minnows dart from lotus roots—spring’s here! For us lot, after a long winter cooped up, this’s just the time to shake off boredom… Let’s go give ’em a show they won’t forget!” The brave warriors of the mountain stronghold waited eagerly, hands moistened with anticipation.—Thus unfolded the naval battle off Jinshatan: raging white waves battered the heavens, clamor set reeds and rushes shrieking, and through two days and nights of arrow-filled winds, clashing blades, and battle cries echoing through clouds, even those formidable hundreds of official ships were shattered like withered leaves and swept away.

How bitterly ironic. This very battle had been like the authorities themselves delivering tribute offerings straight to the rebel stronghold—unasked and unbidden. The spoils alone amounted to a staggering quantity. Dozens of horses, over a hundred warships, crossbows, suits of armor, fire-lance cannons, sailcloth, provisions—all were deposited into the Liang Storehouse.

“After winter-long feasting had left our mountain stronghold’s storerooms looking rather bare—along comes this delivery! Well! If they’re going to come charging in like a gale every time, we should let them attack us more often!” The triumphant trumpets blared high into spring, and there—the very spirit of Mount Liang Marsh stood utterly transformed.

In stark contrast.

Having lost all their ships and equipment, and with Commander Huang An captured alive by the rebels, the government troops who had fled back to Jizhou in utter disarray could only wail in mutual lamentation at the gate of the Magistrate’s Office over how events had unfolded. At that very moment, within the magistrate’s Reception Pavilion, an envoy from Minister Cai and a newly appointed official bearing orders from the Minister’s Office had arrived from the capital. By this, the former magistrate was stripped of his post and ordered to prepare for travel, immediately presenting himself at the tribunal in Kaifeng’s Eastern Capital—such was the strict decree.

"So... am I to be held accountable?" The former magistrate turned pale and wilted, but the new magistrate too, hearing the wailing at the gate,

"Good heavens. 'I came down here delighted, thinking it a promotion—only to find my new duties involve suppressing bandits in this backwater?!'" No sooner had he assumed office than he began grumbling. Nevertheless, within a few days, the handover of duties was completed, and the former magistrate was recalled to the capital. Soon thereafter, along with notification of this magistrate succession, a joint alert regarding Mount Liang Marsh had been circulated to Yuncheng County Office in the neighboring prefecture.

Magistrate Shi Wenbin of Yuncheng County showed a document to Clerk Song Jiang, the office’s chief clerk. “It’s truly regrettable how things have turned out,” he said. “The Jizhou magistrate has been dismissed and replaced by a new one, it seems.” “This document reports the full account of the escape by the seven-member bandit group and details such as the geography around Mount Liang Marsh…” “Please have the clerical team make copies of this and promptly distribute them to all villages throughout the county.”

he said. “Understood.” “This is quite a situation indeed.”

Song Jiang immediately went to the clerical office and took the necessary steps. He had a young and clever assistant. It was a man named Zhang Wenyuan. Entrusting the distribution to the villages to Zhang, at dusk Song Jiang exited the government office and came upon the always-familiar street corner.

“Oh my...” “Well, well! If it isn’t Clerk Song!” At the sudden voice, who should it be but the skinny old woman named Wang—a matchmaker living in the alley. This eloquent old woman had also brought along another one behind her—a plump, fat old woman.

“Madam Yan Po, you’re quite fortunate.” “Just now, I was talking about you.” “…Isn’t that Clerk Song?” “Truly, this is a fortunate encounter! Go on and greet him properly.” “Now, now, you old women.” “What’s this about a ‘fateful connection’?” “Oh, Clerk Song, do hear me out.” “Last night, Old Man Yan passed away suddenly… He was known as a drinker and ballad enthusiast—a man of leisure—but even so, he was the breadwinner for their household of three.”

“Hmm... That’s pitiful.” “Truly, he was such a good-natured old man.” “That’s precisely why, Clerk Song, all he left behind were debts.” “So now she can’t even hold a proper funeral and ends up coming to beg someone like me for help.” “But even I have been at a loss lately—what with patients and expenses piling up.” “...It’s terribly improper to bring this up here in the middle of the street, but out of your great mercy, would you be so kind as to bestow even a single coffin upon this Yan Po?”

“Wang Po—is that true?” “Oh, Master—why on earth would I lie about something as grave as a funeral?”

“Then let this be an offering to Buddha. Take my card and retrieve a coffin with funeral flowers from Chen Sanlang’s funeral parlor.” “Ah now! Just as they say—Master Clerk Song remains the kind-hearted soul of legend.” “Madam Yan Po—” “What’s this? Isn’t this for your sake?” “Come give your thanks—over here now, give your thanks.”

“Stop it—all that bowing and scraping in the middle of the street. However, a single coffin alone won’t suffice to begin—do you have funds for incidental expenses?” “Not at all! They were already at a loss just trying to secure a coffin—in truth, they didn’t even have money left to buy offerings like rice dumplings or stewed dishes…” “You don’t have any? Well, there’s no helping it. With this, you should be able to settle everything properly.” Song Jiang gave them two silver coins he had on hand and left.

The two rejoicing old women scampered into the backstreet alleyway as if dazzled. The next day saw a funeral procession emerge from that same alley. Several days later, Wang Po returned from Clerk Song’s residence bearing steamed buns as tokens of gratitude. “The world may be vast,” she remarked, “but I’ve never encountered such a good soul.” Madam Wang Po simply wouldn’t cease her effusive praise. “When I went to see,” she continued, “his whole family remained in Song Family Village—here in town he lives alone like some scholarly lodger.” She shook her head in wonder. “Yet he still tends to others’ hardships so diligently—truly remarkable! It defies belief!”

“He’s a great benefactor to me too,” Yan Po retorted eagerly, refusing to be outdone in her praise. “From his ruggedly handsome features and striking profile to his impeccably refined masculine bearing—” “If only I were thirty years younger—I wouldn’t let someone like him sleep alone in some boarding house…” she added with evident regret.

Then Wang Po burst into raucous laughter,

“What’s this—you still got that fire in you, huh? When you’ve got a daughter like Poxi in her prime right there!”

“Drop it already.” “At my age, no matter how I feel—if I don’t realize he’s as unattainable as a flower on a high peak—what else can I do?” “So if Clerk Song would agree, I want that gentleman to take my daughter Poxi.” “Don’t you understand? That’s my true heart speaking.” “Well now—Miss Poxi’s nineteen, isn’t she?” “So elegant they’d never believe she’s Yan Po’s daughter—anyone who sees her falls head over heels at first sight.” “And her arts? Her father—that man of leisure—doted on her and trained her thoroughly! They’re truly remarkable!”

“Well you see—her roots are different from this Shandong backwater.” “When my late father still ran his thriving business in the capital Tokyo, I enjoyed leisurely mornings with baths and makeup, while that daughter was coddled like a precious flower and trained in the arts since childhood.” “Geisha from pleasure quarters and restaurant owners would gaze at her spellbound, whispering among themselves—they pestered me endlessly with adoption offers of every sort.”

“There we go—the daughter bragging starts up again.” “Is that so? Is that so?” “I’m not joking. I’m being serious here!”

“I’m dead serious too,” Wang Po retorted. “What exactly are you planning to do about Clerk Song?” “You’re the matchmaker here,” Yan Po countered. “I said I’d leave it to you! For our great benefactor Clerk Song, I believe there’s no better way to repay this debt of gratitude than that.”

“I see—repaying the debt of gratitude. Well then, I’ll try baring one arm without any self-interest. Though this mark—Confucius himself—somehow feels daunting and hard to approach.”

That said, Wang Po was no novice herself—a seasoned veteran of life’s trials. As for her views on men, she must have held distinct convictions of her own. Afterward, she visited Song Jiang from time to time, often amusing him during his leisure hours. When she judged the moment ripe for familiarity, one day she broached the matchmaking proposal regarding the beautiful Yan Poxi. Song Jiang was, after all, neither wood nor bamboo. It was true that he had been struck by a sudden curiosity. Given his position, keeping one woman wouldn’t arouse anyone’s suspicion. Rather, his solitary lifestyle was precisely what drew suspicion from his subordinates. Or rather—that he had come to think so was perhaps because Wang Po’s silver tongue had already persuaded him.

In any case, he—suddenly finding himself in an uncharacteristic state of mind—ended up quietly renting a house in a quiet neighborhood west of the government office’s alleyway, where he began keeping Poxi.

This path alone could not be reconciled with the way of sages and worthies. The naive young master seemed like one possessed. In contrast, within barely a month, it was the Yan mother and daughter who appeared like fish granted water. They bought furniture and clothing; pearls adorned their hair, coral their shoes; they indulged in lavish foods, rouge powders from face paint to perfumes—the adornments of their twin dressing tables went without saying. Yet Song Jiang proved an unfortunate soul unable to lose himself completely in this. True enough, nineteen-year-old Poxi might be called a peerless beauty, but her breath immediately betrayed vulgarity, and even her jade-like skin soon grew wearisome in some indefinable way. Naturally, he ceased staying overnight. Poxi too had grown vaguely discontented. She longed to be seared by a man’s passionate flames, yet remained perpetually smoldering—never pierced by desire’s raging fire. Frustrations piled up until discontent fermented naturally within her. When her alluring brows glared resentment at him yet found Song Jiang oblivious, her restlessness intensified—until finally she began wanting to mock the man outright.

Then, one evening,

“Poxi…” “Tonight I thought we’d drink merrily—so I brought a friend. Old woman—prepare us plenty of good dishes.”

Unusually, Song Jiang brought a guest.

“Well! Look who’s come!”

Yan Poxi greeted them with overflowing charm. Song Jiang stood between them, appearing somewhat embarrassed,

“This is Zhang Wenyuan—a colleague from the government office serving as deputy chief of the records room. He’s also known by his alias, Xiao Zhangsan.” “He tends to be willful in his duties, but I thought you should become better acquainted with him.” “Please forgive my clumsiness.” With the hairpin at her temple swaying heavily, Poxi lowered her head while Zhang San returned a courteous bow. Though their ages differed, their pairing transcended mere handsomeness and beauty—the instant Poxi’s eyes met Zhang San’s gaze, her innate coquetry blossomed into vivid hues, tinting even her earlobes faint crimson. Yet Clerk Song, observing nearby, remained oblivious to any hint of jealousy.

A gentleman whom women do not regard as a man may yet be one whom the gallant youths of mountains and wilderness adore. Yan Poxi, already a beauty, had been especially alluring that night. Her courtesy toward Song Jiang came naturally enough, but her handling of Zhang San showed extraordinary meticulousness. During lulls between cups, she would suddenly adjust smudged makeup or stealthily reappear in changed garments—displaying an unprecedented drunken glamour that verged on the uncanny.

“Ah, what a beautiful moon this is.” “We don’t even need candles tonight.” “There’s never been such a delightful evening as this.”

To her idle mutterings that weren’t directed at anyone in particular, the guest Zhang San skillfully offered responses, “Looking at your room, Madam—you have various musical instruments. Do you enjoy music?” “Oh, I don’t like that—being called ‘Madam’.” “Well then, Miss Poxi.” “Hohohoho, I’m no young lady anymore. …But when I was a little girl, I was raised in the capital of Kaifeng, you know.” “And since the neighborhood was a red-light district, I was naturally taught quite a lot in the way of accomplishments.”

“You say that like it’s someone else’s story—you must be quite skilled then.” “How about this: I’ll play the flute if you’ll grace us with a tune on the erhu?” “And what shall we play?” “What about ‘Kaifeng Bamboo Branch’? It was all the rage in the Eastern Capital once.” “‘Kaifeng Bamboo Branch’—oh, how nostalgic.” “I’ll play it—it’s been ages.” “…Mother, why don’t you pour Master some wine and listen from over there?” The two lost themselves in an innocent duet of flute and erhu. If Yan Poxi appeared happy, then Song Jiang’s heart too was content. Though master of a concubine household, he was no conventional master—his gentlemanly nature remained unaltered whether keeping women or drinking wine, never once compromising the character of Song Jiang, the Timely Rain, that he upheld day after day.

But from a woman’s perspective, such a rigid man must have been neither interesting nor stimulating. Even when they slept together, it felt somehow bland and awkward—and though she thought of him as the benefactor who had saved mother and child from hell, she could never bring herself to truly embrace him as her man, nor had she ever removed her pillow when held by him. “...And in contrast, this Mr. Zhang Wenyuan that Master brought here—they say he’s your subordinate at the office—but my, how utterly delightful he is...”

That night, she became utterly enchanted by Zhang San (Wenyuan). When Master Song Jiang—dark-skinned and swarthy—was measured against Zhang San’s fair complexion and ample physique, her distaste only grew stronger. Romantic feelings must have brimmed at the corners of her eyes when they parted. Moreover, given that Zhang San was a seasoned expert in matters of love,

“Hmm… This one has potential,” he must have already observed early on. After that, before long, Zhang San had begun sneaking over there alone. In other words—not a guest but a secret lover at the concubine’s residence—. Since she was a mother who lived off her daughter, Yan Po had no choice but to skillfully arrange opportunities for their meetings. In hindsight, this was akin to leaving a cat in charge of dried fish. Bringing his subordinate Zhang San to his own concubine’s residence—this could be called the greatest blunder of Song Jiang’s life.

Moreover, once Yan Poxi—as naive as a virgin—had fallen into the hands of Zhang San, that expert in such matters, her innate nature—far from being something as innocent as a girl knowing a man for the first time—was something even she found herself at a loss to handle. The blood of licentiousness had likely flowed from her mother, Yan Po, yet even Yan Po would sometimes click her tongue under the stairs at how her daughter’s body—tormented by men behind curtains upstairs—leaked delirious cries of carnal passion, time and again.

Naturally, this had not escaped Song Jiang's notice. Not only through neighborhood whispers but through Poxi's cold gestures had he dimly come to understand. Yet even so, he merely muttered quietly in his own manner of thinking: "It can't be helped... If she's gone mad with passion for him, there's nothing to be done. She isn't a wife chosen by my parents—no need to go; staying away would settle it. I'll just keep my distance for now."

Lately having put Yan Poxi completely out of his mind and applied himself diligently to his duties at the county office, Song Jiang was leaving through its gates once again today with a clear heart.

The time was around dusk.

At a barbershop on the street corner, a man who looked like a traveler—having his beard shaved—suddenly noticed him passing by.

“Oh, why—if that isn’t Mr. Clerk Song!” “Customer, do you know him? That gentleman is none other than Mr. Clerk Song, renowned as the Timely Rain and praised as a virtuous clerk even in the county.”

“I see. Left your payment here, barber.”

“Ah, sir—there’s still a sideburn left.” “And your change too.” “Forget it, forget it.”

The man didn’t look back.

Eight-Breast straw sandals, white and green striped leggings, a greatsword thrust into his belt, and a Fan Yang bamboo hat in one hand—such was his light attire.

Like a swallow, he dashed past the rows of town lights,

“Hey, please wait!”

called out to Song Jiang’s retreating figure.

“Huh?” “Me?”

“You haven’t forgotten me, have you? I was one who had taken refuge at Village Chief Chao Gai’s estate. I am Liu Tang, the Red-Haired Demon.”

“Ah. That Red-Haired one... This is surprising.” “To meet you here of all places.” “How nostalgic... and to properly express our gratitude for that time...” “Well, I hardly know where to begin.” “Might I trouble you to accompany me to a nearby tavern?”

At the edge of town hung a dim red lantern. Settling into a small second-floor room there, Liu Tang leaned his greatsword against the corner wall before kneeling down. "...To Master Song Jiang—our great benefactor who delivered us from certain death last autumn—I now humbly convey, on behalf of Leader Chao Gai, Strategist Wu Yong, Gongsun Sheng, the three Ruan brothers and others, our deepest gratitude." "...and please know our long silence since parting carries no disrespect—this too conveys our most earnest sentiments from all."

“Ah, please rise. A server might come—acting so courteous will look suspicious.” “If you’ll pardon me,” Liu Tang said, settling into a chair. As they exchanged several cups of wine, he continued in a hushed tone: “Thanks to you, Mount Liang Marsh now houses seven to eight hundred men under its command. We’ve overhauled the mountain’s discipline and everything proceeds smoothly.” “All of this stems from your great benevolence—Leader Chao Gai and all beneath him have not forgotten this even in their slumber.” “I see.” “Well—so long as everyone remains safe and well, that’s what truly matters.” “And hearing such favorable tidings gladdens me.”

“Now—though I must apologize for the impropriety—after much deliberation about how we might repay everyone’s gratitude, I have here been entrusted with Leader Chao’s letter and a hundred guan of gold. Please kindly accept these as a token of our humble regard.”

"To such lengths..." Song Jiang bowed respectfully, "Then I shall accept it."

He took only one of the ten sealed gold parcels along with the letter and placed them into his robe. Liu Tang, slightly flustered, added.

“Clerk Song. “Please accept the remaining ninety guan as well.” “No, no—I truly should not accept this at all, but being so deeply moved by everyone’s goodwill, I took but one parcel.” “As one who receives an official stipend, I lack for nothing.” “Please take the rest back and convey my earnest regards.” “Then I would be in dire straits.” “I came as an envoy to repay your kindness—” “But I have already received more than enough of your consideration here.”

"But now—unlike when Wang Lun led us—the stronghold's rules are strict. If some fool who's been given a mission can't even deliver a message properly, he can't show his face among the brothers anymore." "Then I'll write a reply letter addressed to everyone." "That way your honor stays intact, and my thoughts reach them properly." He immediately pulled out a traveling inkstone, wrote the letter and sealed it. As they shared news about each other's lives, both he and Liu Tang ended up drinking several rounds until their cheeks flushed red without even realizing it.

“Well then—though our time together is all too brief—since the others await at Mount Liang Marsh, I shall take my leave.”

The two left the alley beside the tavern—it was early summer. The round evening moon hung full above the town’s rooftops. “Are you returning straight to Mount Liang Marsh from here?” “No—since County Constables Lei Heng and Zhu Tong also helped us secretly during that incident, I’ve been ordered to visit them too and offer brief thanks.” “I see. Gratitude is well enough, but you shouldn’t give them any money at all.”

“Hmm.” “Would that be a problem?”

“Lei Heng is a good man, but for a County Constable, he’s a heavy drinker.” “It’s better not to let him carry money beyond his station—for his own sake. ……Incidentally, ever since the incident, the number of informants in this town has increased. Outsiders are quickly tailed by dogs—though I doubt you’ll be careless, do take care.”

“Thank you kindly. If I end up hauling some strange calamity along, that’d spell real trouble. I’ll make myself scarce right quick. Well then, Clerk Song—keep well and prosper.”

No sooner had he spoken than Liu Tang pulled his Fan Yang hat low over his brows and vanished like a bat down the road leading out of the county. After seeing him off, Song Jiang muttered. "...This isn't someone else's problem." "I was in just as much danger." "If someone at the magistrate's office were to discover I had secretly met with Mount Liang's envoy..." he thought, as the evening wind suddenly prickled restlessly against his skin. As he abruptly quickened his steps, he unfortunately collided head-on with Old Woman Yan—Poxi's mother—at the very corner of the crossroads.

“Oh my, Master, what has happened? Lately—” “Oh—Yan Po. It’s nothing—the magistrate’s office has just been busy, that’s all.” “You mustn’t do this, Master. You’ve been completely absent lately… Don’t you feel sorry for my daughter?” “But she’s in good health, isn’t she?” “Oh—you’re saying such a cold thing. How hateful! Who on earth interfered? Well, anyway, Master—tonight I won’t leave without taking you along.”

“Hey, let go! People will see!” “Then you’ll come along, won’t you? If I tell her I met you on the road but didn’t bring you back, my daughter might cry and sink her teeth into me. No—she might even drink poison!” “Don’t try to scare me, old woman.” “This old crone… I-if you abandon me for good… wh-what will become of me…” “Oh—are you crying? It’s unsightly in the middle of the street. I’ll go, I’ll go.”

Song Jiang had lost. Not only had he yielded to Old Woman Yan’s silver tongue and crocodile tears, but it could be said that this gentleman also had a side that surrendered to himself. The tipsy restlessness beyond mere slight intoxication had also played its part, and no doubt he had also felt a fleeting desire to see what kind of affectionate expression she might show for once.

Upon two pillows lying restlessly side by side, the orchid lamp’s dream struggled unresolved. “Oh my, oh my. “The lamp isn’t even lit! “Young girls are truly impossible to handle… Master, wait here for a moment.”

No sooner had Yan Po entered her house's gate than she deliberately raised her voice and shouted from downstairs to the second floor. "Oh daughter, Poxi! Because I met Clerk Song, whom you've been longing for—I practically dragged him here! ...Don't lie there sulking so much! Quickly light the lamp and put on some makeup or something."

Then, from the pitch-dark second floor came a sudden flurry of movement. “Shht…” It was there that the daughter, Poxi, had hushed her voice. It seemed she had been sleeping with a man. The embroidered pillow had been rolled under the bed, her snow-white thighs exposed as she hastily gathered the tangled hem of her skirt. Her disheveled locks—still bearing traces of stark-naked frenzy from having writhed under Zhang San’s secret techniques moments before—defied all attempts to comb them into order, no matter how she tried.

“Wh-what do I do?”

The one who was even more astonished was Zhang San. Upon hearing that Song Jiang—both his superior and her master—had come, he was like a house mouse whose nest had been overturned. While he dashed one way and faltered the next, scurrying about in confusion, Poxi swiftly opened the second-floor back window.

“Brother Zhang, what are you doing? “This way! This way! “Go along the neighbor’s wall from the roof. “But if you jump down recklessly, there’s a ditch, you know. “Good. “Come back within two or three days, okay?”

After pushing the man’s rear out and closing the window behind him, she had already put on an air of nonchalance. Reluctantly lighting the orchid-patterned lamp, she peered downstairs from her dressing table and clicked her tongue.

“Tch…” “You’re so annoying, Mother.” “What’s the fuss? It’s not like the Emperor of Heaven himself has come.”

Yan Po hurriedly came upstairs,

“Shh, keep quiet,” Yan Po hissed. “Haven’t you had your fill of fun? You ought to treat a bit of duty as business.” “I won’t!” Yan Poxi retorted. “You must remember your own youth, Mother. No matter what—when I see that clerk’s face, like a worm-eaten jujube, my stomach churns so much I can’t even force out polite lies!”

“Even if you say that—you! The reason we mother and child can live in luxury like this is all thanks to that person.” “If you cut off our lifeline, won’t our mouths go dry?” “Ah, this is so tedious.” “If *he* says he doesn’t want to come—there’s no need *you* drag him here by force.” “You can’t just refuse like that!” “You’re such a spoiled brat—come on, even if it’s a lie, just let him drink some wine and give a little pat on the back. It’s the least you can do after all he’s done for us.”

With her mouth close to her daughter’s ear—soothing her on one side while addressing Song Jiang, whom she’d left waiting downstairs—Yan Po fretted, skillfully juggling both roles. “Now now, Master, do come upstairs.” “Since you’ve visited so rarely, this girl has become utterly sulky—exactly as you see! …Oh no no, hearing your voice must have her heart racing beneath that stubborn front!” “Truly, a woman’s heart kept waiting too long turns cold or bursts into tears…” “Hohoho… Yes yes—I’ll fetch wine from downstairs straight away.”

The rest could wait. If left alone, the two of them would manage somehow. Yan Po cast a cunning glance toward Song Jiang’s figure and slipped smoothly downstairs. The room contained a mother-of-pearl inlaid lacquered table and vermilion chairs. A flower-patterned curtain divided half the room, and beyond it, pushed to the back, a bed was visible. Under the clothes rack lay discarded silk nightgowns and an embroidered pillow in disarray. On the floor where light from the pewter candlestick pooled lay a single pearl hairpin—Song Jiang seemed to catch a glimpse of it, and Poxi suddenly noticed it too. She swiftly picked it up and inserted it into the roots of her hair while—

“Welcome.” “…Where have you been drinking?” “What a lovely color you’re wearing.” “I just met with a colleague from the office.” “Oh? If it’s just an office colleague, you see them there daily anyway.” “Hahaha—such things hardly matter.”

“Well, I don’t care.” At that moment, Yan Po promptly brought in the wine. Yan Po, mindful of her daughter’s sullen expression, poured the wine. “A woman’s whims—truly, even she herself can’t control them, you see.” “Just this once… Hohoho… Please use your manly skills to make this girl see reason and calm her whims, Master.” “Now, have another cup.” “I don’t know what it is, but you seem to be in a very bad mood.” “There there, Poxi. I’ll pour you a drink.” “Won’t you take your cup?”

“...Well then, Master, I’ll leave the rest to you.” “……Later, I’ll bring plenty more dishes up for you.” Yan Po fled from the room as if escaping.—Song Jiang, too, had grown fed up and tried to kick aside his seat and follow her out, but Yan Po, who had exited a step ahead, clanked the lock shut from the outside. He thought, Damn it—but it was already too late. Having entered the kitchen, Yan Po shredded chicken meat and checked the stove fire while inwardly sticking out her tongue in mock triumph. Yan Po's philosophy held that if you put a man and a woman together in a confined space, they would naturally come together. Before long, the roasted meat and soup were ready, the candied stew was plated, and Yan Po, judging the timing right, took the serving tray and quietly opened the door to the second-floor room. …Yet contrary to her expectations, Yan Po’s philosophy had proven mistaken.

“……”

When she looked, both were stubbornly silent, just sitting there facing each other motionlessly—how exasperating! With a look that seemed to say “How exasperating!”, Yan Po deliberately laughed loudly. “Well! “What’s with you two? Master and this girl here—you’re acting like a bride and groom! “No, newlyweds these days are far more open-minded, I tell you! “Now, dig in!” Once again, it was the old woman pouring the drinks. Whenever she poured, Song Jiang drank. Perhaps deciding that getting them drunk was the best approach, Yan Po poured drink after drink.—Before long,

“Pour me some, Mother.” Yan Poxi took up her cup. Yan Po—perhaps thinking Well, well— “There now, see? You really want it in your belly after all, don’t you? Go on then—drink up.” “What nonsense are you spouting? You don’t understand anything about how I feel. This? Just a drink of despair!”

“Master, this girl’s sullen stubbornness has finally melted away. You’re a man, aren’t you? Try to be a bit more understanding of a woman’s heart and do something about it, won’t you? …Oh dear, the other dishes might burn.” Once again stepping away, she returned to the kitchen and tapped her waist. “Ah, what an utterly tiresome hassle this is!” she muttered.

Then, after letting considerable time pass once more—thinking things had settled—she crept upstairs on stealthy feet to check. Yet the scene remained unchanged. Still a glaring standoff persisted. Only now Yan Poxi’s orchid-like eyelids bore a faint wine-flush, while Song Jiang sat drunk and lethargic. Well—the night had deepened, and Song Jiang, with his home too distant to return to, was indeed at his wit’s end.

Then, who could it be—at such a late hour—as the sound of footsteps clomp-clomp-clomping up from downstairs came,

“Clerk, are you here?”

There was someone knocking on the door.

“What the... Well, who is this?”

Yan Po, who had opened the door from inside and blocked the man’s path, snapped brusquely.

“Who did I think it was—it’s you, Tang Niu’er the pickle vendor! Barging into someone’s house uninvited—that’s what thieves do!” “What’s with this chummy attitude?!” “Calling me a thief? That’s too harsh!” “It’s not like I barged in without saying a word!” “I called out ‘Good evening’ over and over downstairs, but when there was no reply, I saw the light and came up properly to ask—isn’t that all?” “...I need Master to spare me a moment.”

“Who’s this ‘Master’ of yours?” “Why, none other than Master Clerk himself! Master Song Gongming, the Timely Rain—I’ve always considered him both my benefactor and liege. But now I’ve no choice but to seek his aid once more—that’s why I scoured every corner from his estate in Song Family Village till I finally tracked him down here. Ah! There he is—Master! Right there!” “Oh... Tang Niu’er.”

Song Jiang, hearing the voice, began to rise from his chair. He thought—what a stroke of luck—this unexpected savior had dropped right into his lap—. A lowly street urchin—ordinarily a nuisance who pestered him for petty cash every time they met—could, at times, prove a heaven-sent savior. Taking this opportunity, he attempted to make a clean exit from this unresolved quagmire of a situation by taking Niu’er with him.

But this was the cunning old fox Yan Po we’re talking about. Using every honeyed word and pretext at her disposal, she pushed Song Jiang’s body—which had risen to the doorway—back into his original seat, then turned toward the pickle vendor Niu’er. “No, no! “Come on, get out! Get out!” “You’re beyond shameless!” “What the... Why the hell are you shoving me?!” “I ain’t here for some sow!” “Just need a moment with the master.”

“That’s exactly the sort of line a self-serving rogue would utter.” “Listen well.” “Our benefactor—who’s constantly burdened with others’ troubles day after day—is finally savoring a rare moment of tranquil seclusion. Why must you insist on disturbing his peace?” “Downstairs! Get downstairs now!” “Whoa! That nearly got me!” “Don’t you dare underestimate me!” Then Yan Po, fueled by wine’s courage, suddenly swung a stinging slap across Tang Niu’er’s cheek.

Even Tang Niu’er, who had been somewhat intimidated by Song Jiang’s presence, now had no choice but to roll up his sleeves and stand his ground. Suddenly, there was a loud creak from the house—this time, it seemed the old woman had landed hard on her backside against the wall. A grappling match began. However, the old woman’s sharp tongue and physical strength were formidable. Finally, Tang Niu’er tucked his tail and, “You wretch of a stray cat! “You’ll pay for this!” With that parting line uttered, he seemed to have fled from the alley toward the main street.

Gulping water from the ladle in the jug and catching her breath, the old woman immediately returned to the second-floor room. Then she finally laughed at the icy tension between her daughter and Song Jiang, chattered away with trivial small talk, opened the bedchamber's canopy, and burned Chunqing incense in its burner. "Now... I'll arrange two pillows here like lovebirds." "My girl." "Oh you—how long will you keep sulking like this?" "Dawn will break soon!" "Let me tuck our dear master into bed and add a touch of romance."

In the pleasure quarters of old, there was such a thing as a procuress. Yan Po's gestures demonstrated a perfect grasp of such timing. Song Jiang found it unbearable to stay yet unable to leave, torn asunder by reason, earthly desire, and the flames of wrath—wholly at the mercy of the bewitching magic wielded by a mysterious old cat and a beautiful feline. “Now, Master—why don’t you calm yourself and get some rest?” “My girl, you too—enjoy yourself heartily.” “And when morning comes, you’ll see.” “Women—they’ve completely cured themselves of melancholic ailments by then… Hohoho.”

Of the two lamps, leaving only the small bedroom's ornate lamp, Yan Po blew out the light with a puff and soon clomped her way downstairs.

The remaining second-floor room became a pale blue lake.

The waning moon reflected through the window cast the town roofs in pitch-black relief. Though early summer, the air was chilly. The stars could be seen streaking through. He must have been severely drunk. The wine he had gulped down sent a piercing throb through Song Jiang’s temples.—Song Jiang suddenly thought. "The relationship between Poxi and Zhang San seems suspicious," he reflected inwardly, "but I haven’t actually confirmed it. Right—I’ll pretend not to notice how she treats me." But was this even a feat Song Jiang could perform well? There she was—Yan Poxi still wearing her clothes, sulking on an embroidered pillow. To sulk meant facing away. The round buttocks, having already indulged her lover Zhang San’s sweetness at night’s edge, seemed to puff with lingering dissatisfaction. Ah, the alluring figure burned like a crabapple’s natural hues, a lotus concealing thorns beneath its leaves—troubling yet irresistible. Could one call this, then, the Yang Guifei of back alleys? With no rival splendor around, that bewitching form flaunted its lascivious beauty alone.

Infuriating—for someone of Song Jiang's temperament, this felt utterly humiliating—but he removed his headgear and placed it on the small table beside the bed canopy, then hung the outer robe he had slipped off onto the clothes rack. …………

She didn’t even glance this way. However, it was in the nature of a woman of this sort to perceive even the faintest signs with her entire being. How infuriatingly pretty, Song Jiang thought as he stared at her figure, removing his white silk tabi socks and undoing his sash. But just as he tried to place his document holder and wallet on the small table—clunk—something fell onto the floor. They were a dagger and the ten guan of sealed gold he had received from Liu Tang earlier that evening. —And as Chao Gai’s letter from that time was still in his document holder, unread for lack of time, he carefully gathered them and hung them on the bed’s narrow handrail. —And so, he began to slip into the futon, but as a man, he couldn’t bring himself to lie down facing the woman’s back. He turned opposite her sleeping form, slid into the bedding from her feet, positioned both legs near her back and shoulders, and gently pulled the hem of the covers over himself.

The ginger soup lamp’s light, too, suddenly regained awareness,

The fleeting loss of self in the dark of a sheathed blade. In form, they had fallen asleep, but Song Jiang and Poxi were in fact not sleeping a wink. Are the bodies of men and women electric entities? If they meld together, their blood flows as one. But when they clashed, they emitted silent blue sparks that crackled without sound. "Bastards..."—between them, their hostility was only being further honed. Before long, the woman let out a low, mocking chuckle. Cold contempt—like an ice blade. Song Jiang flared hot inside the futon. The woman stiffened her body once more and brusquely brushed off Song Jiang’s feet with her shoulder as if annoyed. He heard her click her tongue. But Song Jiang was still holding back. Instead, it was my own foolishness that invited pity. What possible pleasure could I find in enduring such insults from this whore—?

“Ugh—it’s stifling to sleep!”

Seizing the moment when the woman muttered again, he threw off the futon and bolted out. The woman’s white legs were suddenly exposed, so reflexively Poxi faced the wall and screamed.

“What are you doing?! You’re disgusting!” “You’re impossible!” “You’re one to talk.” “What are you laughing at? Don’t mock me!”

“You can’t.” “It’s absurd.” “Does such a man even exist?” “Are you even a man?”

“You said it.” “Poxi.” “I’m never coming back!”

“Oh, how delightful.” “I would never dream of stopping you.”

Song Jiang felt a dull pain around his earlobe as if a hammer had struck heated iron. He began to sway dizzily. Putting on his lower garment and fastening his sash were both done in a frenzy. He pushed open the door with both hands and thudded down the stairs.

“...Oh! Master.” “What’s happened, Master? I say!”

Yan Po’s exaggerated voice echoed behind him, but he lacked even a moment to glance back. He had fled from that alleyway like a common thief. The town lay deep into the hour of the ox, its streets devoid of any human shadow.

Then, at the crossroads, a small red dot—the light of a street lamp—came into view. It was one of the all-night stalls catering to night-crawling revelers—Wang Ye, the ginger soup seller. He caught sight of it.

“Oh my, if it isn’t Clerk Song. Official duties kept you up through the night, I take it?” “Ah, I simply drank too much at a friend’s place and ended up not making it home, you see.” “For clearing one’s head after drink, Erchen Decoction works wonders.” “Right, I’ll take a cup... Oh, thank you. You’re always thriving in your trade, old man.”

“Thanks to your kindness—and perhaps because this humble one works honestly—everyone’s shown such gracious patronage.” “When I think back—through all those late nights at government work, I’ve been warmed for years by your plum soups and ginger brews here. And you’ve never once charged me a copper.” “Not at all, Clerk Song. “It’s only natural, sir.” “Why do you say that?”

“Because it’s all thanks to officials like yourself—keeping watch without even sleeping to stop bad folks from doing evil—that humble folks like us can keep living honestly like this.” “Ah, hearing it put that way shames me.” “You’re too kind—it’s entirely due to the patrols’ efforts. “It’s why all our townsfolk can sleep soundly through the night.”

“Ah, right! I just remembered, old man.”

“Yes, what might that be?” “I once asked you if you had any wishes, and you said, ‘Like any ordinary person, I’d want to buy and prepare at least a coffin.’ “Very well.” “That coffin—I did promise to buy it for you, didn’t I?” “You have kindly remembered. “Though I fear it’s a wish beyond my station—if that can be done, in my next life I’ll become a horse or donkey to repay your kindness.”

Wang Ye laughed forlornly. —For in that Song Dynasty era, it had been regarded as the supreme virtue among the elderly to purchase their own coffins during their lifetime and keep them stored at home.

Suddenly.

Song Jiang now recalled the old promise he had made to this Wang Ye to buy that for him. After excessive self-loathing and shame, humans seem to suddenly seek "truth" in others or try substituting their salvation with mimicry of virtue.—And so Song Jiang began rummaging through his pockets. Those ten guan he had thoughtlessly accepted from Liu Tang.

He had been motivated by an urge to donate that money toward Wang Ye’s coffin fund.

...Hm. ...Hmm. The letter was indeed in the document holder. "...The money should have been with it too."

“Clerk Song. There’s no need for such haste—it needn’t be done now.” “...No—wait. ...This is—” “Whenever would suit you fine. As for this old man’s coffin—” “Damn it! To think that coffin might become my own necessity! I can’t linger here.—Old man, truth be told, I panicked elsewhere and left behind something crucial along with that money pouch.” Song Jiang spoke no falsehood. “I’ll assuredly purchase it for you later.”

No sooner had he spat out those words than he turned back like a gust of wind toward the original path and raced off down the alley where Poxi’s house stood. Serves him right—that bastard. With this settled, I can sleep soundly until tomorrow noon.

After Song Jiang had indignantly stormed off earlier, Poxi sat upright again, untied her thin underrobe, removed everything from her skirt ties down to her undergarments, and shook out the bedding. "When you come to hate a man, even if he's the same person as before, I suppose this is how you end up feeling," she thought. "Once I realize it's the futon that man slept in, even its lingering warmth and smell become repulsive."

With a flurry of movement, she hurled even one of the two pillows into the corner of the room. And then—huh? as if she had just noticed.

Her white hand darted toward the bed’s handrail. A pale purple Luan Belt of Shokkou weave—in other words, an important pouch worn close to the body as a belly sash—had a fastening cord adorned with jade and agate that looked fit for a hairpin dangling loosely from it.

Ah, I get it now. Because that Hei Er—one of Song Jiang’s nicknames—went spinning out like a dragonfly with oil-smeared eyes, I forgot it in my fit of anger. ……This is perfect. I know! I’ll give this to Zhang San and make him happy. She took it to bed and, while lying down, began examining its contents by the light of the orchid lamp with evident delight. When she looked inside the Luan Belt, there lay the dagger, the ten guan, and from the document holder emerged a letter addressed to him from Chao Gai of Mount Liang Marsh.

The woman skillfully peeled it open with her pinky nail—even a three-year-old child knew what kind of place Mount Liang Marsh was. Last year had seen a major police raid in this very area. She held her breath as she read it over and over... Then came the creak-creak of footsteps stealthily approaching. She hurriedly stuffed everything into the Luan Belt—the belly sash—clutched it beneath her stomach, and feigned deep sleep. Of course, those footsteps belonged to Song Jiang. Despondent, his hands hung limply—

“...Hm. I don’t see it.” “Ah—Poxi! You’re the one who stowed it away for me!”

“Who is it? You’re so loud—again.” “Could you wake up for a moment? I left something behind. Hand it over here.”

“I don’t know anything about that.” “You can’t possibly not know.” “It just happened… That Luan Belt has documents from the office and other important items.” “I’m begging you—give it back!”

“Hmph… So that’s how it is.” “You think everything can be settled just by flaunting your clerk’s authority, don’t you?” “Poxi isn’t some doll for you to manipulate!”

“So you hid the Luan Belt.”

“Are you calling me a thief?”

“No—my tone turned harsh for a moment, but I never meant to call you a thief.” “Of course not.” “After all, you’re the one cozying up with bandits, aren’t you?”

“Ugh...! You read the letter inside!” “Unfortunately, even someone like Poxi learned enough reading and writing at temple school.” “I beg you!...” Song Jiang knelt on one knee beside her bedside and bowed his head. “Don’t raise your voice. That letter may be from someone unrelated to you, but if this gets out, society will misunderstand.” “It will mean Song Jiang’s ruin...”

“I don’t think you’re part of their gang.” “But why would Mount Liang Marsh send you a hundred guan of gold?” “...Unless it’s something truly serious...” “Quiet!” “I’ll agree to anything you ask—anything you want—so just hand it over without fuss.” “This is how it stands, Poxi.” “A man is bowing his head to beg.” “How amusing.” “You’ll truly do whatever I say?”

“I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you say.”

“There are three conditions.” “Fine.” “However many harsh terms...” “First—give me back my concubine contract.” “And write a binding pledge that you’ll raise no objections when I marry Zhang San.”

“Very well.” “Secondly—the household goods here, even my hair ornaments—everything’s mine.” “Don’t you dare spout any boorish nonsense like ‘I bought all these things for you,’ got that?” “That’s acceptable too. Now—the remaining condition—” “And the last condition—” “That one seems rather...difficult.” “Do you truly think you can stomach it?” “What’s this condition? Out with it.” “Line up a hundred guan right here. ...As severance pay.” “I don’t have it now.”

“Look at you, acting all stingy—but you definitely received it from Mount Liang Marsh’s envoy, didn’t you?” “The truth is, I only took ten guan and returned the rest.” “I’ll arrange the ninety guan later.”

“Lies! All lies!” “Now, hand it over cleanly and be done with it.” “If you don’t like that, then I’m keeping the Luan Belt.” “Like hell I’ll return it!” “No matter what!”

“Return it.” “Why would I lie?” “Even if I have to sell off all the household goods, I’ll surely bring it within a few days.”

“Then we’ll exchange then,” “Everything must be cash on delivery.” “Or will you call me a thief and haul me to court?” “Either way suits me.” “No matter what—” “You’re insufferable.” “Honestly...” “...Poxi.” Song Jiang stood up, tears of self-pity clouding his eyes— “I’ll get the money later.” “Just... calm down and return it.” “If I’ve ever wronged you, I was mistaken.” “I’ll apologize...” “Poxi.”

Over her stiffened shoulders, he peered at her face, desperately trying to appease her—but the woman, who took pride in Song Jiang’s weakness all the more, irritably pushed his face away,

“No! No!” “Even the smell of your breath disgusts me!” “If you begrudge paying a hundred guan, then I don’t want it.” “Instead, I’ll claim my reward from the authorities—openly and honorably!” “Even half that from them would let me strut around proudly… you know.”

“Grah!”

At that moment, Song Jiang's eyes seemed to split at their corners. In that instant, the white nakedness beneath the futon was flipped over by the force of the man's hands on both shoulders, and beneath the hanging breasts flashed into view the brocade of the Luan Belt with its jade pendant.

“What are you doing?! I’ll scream!” “I’ll scream my head off!”

“Ah, here it is!” It was there. “If I can just get this back—” “Let go? Not even if I die!” The struggling woman’s alabaster nakedness threw itself down again to press and conceal it. From the momentum, only the dagger tumbled beneath the bed. When Yan Poxi saw Song Jiang’s hand frantically grab the dagger, she instinctively let out a shrill scream—then, “Ack! Murderer!” she jerked upright. That shriek instead summoned a moment of madness in Song Jiang—when the heavy flesh and black hair arching back with a choked “Ugh…!” collapsed across his face toward his chest, the blade had already gouged deep into Poxi’s abdomen before he realized it. Lukewarm—no, scalding—blood smeared his forearms as he kept his eyes tightly shut against his pallid face.

…… With a thud, he threw the corpse onto the floor and let out a heavy breath, his shoulders heaving. He quickly fastened the Luan Belt beneath his clothes. And then he held Chao Gai’s letter to the lamp and burned it to ashes. No sooner had he done so than the old woman, awakened by the noise, came up from downstairs—the timing was split-second.

"Ah... It’s Yan Po."

Suddenly, he hurriedly blew out the orchid-patterned lamp. But the window was already bright. The dawn’s faint light coldly illuminated the black hair resembling seaweed in blood and the corpse’s waxen face, embodying the swiftness of life’s impermanence.

“Master…” “What was that thud just now?” “We can’t keep up this lovers’ quarrel until dawn breaks, you know.”

“Granny? L-look here.” “Look there!” “What is it? My, what a mess!” “My, what a mess!” “…I finally snapped and killed your daughter.” “You’re joking, Master.” “That’s ill-omened talk.” “It’s true… Even I—the one who did it—can scarcely believe it.” “But done is done.” “How unreliable humans prove to be.” “Ah—all my accumulated wisdom amounts to nothing.” “I’ve shown myself a brute no better than some backwoods peasant.”

“Oh no, Master... If you keep spouting such strange lines with that terrifying face, you know…”

“Hey, Granny. It’s there—in the shadow behind the bed where you’re standing. That is Poxi.” “Gah…!” The old woman’s legs nearly gave out. Her entire body clattered and shook to the bone, her teeth suddenly unable to meet. “P-p-please, Master. Please, Master, save this old woman. I-it was entirely… the daughter’s fault… This old woman has nothing more…”

“If anyone should be shuddering with regret, it’s me.” “And I’m not so deranged that I’d kill even you.” “I’ve done a wretched thing.” “Granny, show me some mercy.”

“W-what a waste… “I-I… if only you would spare me… “But… Ah, what am I to do? “This old woman can no longer go on living like this.”

“It’s a Buddhist memorial service. I’ll take charge of that much. For your entire life—and even beyond—I won’t let you want for food... Right—the dawn’s breaking through. Go quickly to the funeral parlor and order a coffin. Tell the neighbors she died from some sudden illness.” “Y-yes, of course. I would never dream of troubling my benefactor further... But please... what about this old woman’s future...”

“I’ll take care of it—don’t worry.” “But Master, I’m so agitated I can’t even get the words out.” “Moreover, the neighbors all know Poxi has been under your care.” “Would you please come with me to the funeral parlor?” “That would be a great help.” “This daughter of mine—well, being raised so spoiled, she ended up like this…”

Whenever he saw her breaking down in tears, Song Jiang felt as though his heart were being torn out. Then he hurriedly washed the bloodstains from his wrists and such in the kitchen, took the old woman with him, and went out into the town at dawn.

The town in the morning mist remained silent. Only sporadic creaks of opening doors and the clatter of carts on the road could be heard. As they emerged from the alleyway, the government office gate and a dense willow grove came into view. Song Jiang, weighed by guilt,

“Granny.” “Let’s go this way.”

So he tried to turn into a different alley.

“Oh, why ever would that be, Master?” “But Chen Sanlang the funeral director is this way!”

“Because they probably aren’t up yet.” The old woman’s gaze had turned sharp. But she obediently followed him, taking a long detour, until they finally emerged onto the town’s main street. By that time, most shops had already opened, and the flow of people on the streets had increased. At the crossroads in particular, the morning market had begun to set up.

“Master…” “Well done.”

The old woman suddenly stopped. Song Jiang was startled by her gaze. The old woman’s fingernails were tightly gripping her own sleeve. “What’s this, old woman? Grabbing someone’s sleeve—”

“Remember this!” “Help! Townspeople—a murderer! There’s a murderer here!” “...This Clerk just killed my daughter Poxi!” “Avenge her!” “Wh-what are you saying?!” “You murderer!” “Murderer—eek!”

“Stop it—stop your barking!” Song Jiang, in his panic, clamped both hands over the old woman’s mouth.

In the basement’s trapped bird, the bronze bell of rebirth tolled to proclaim friendship. “What’s this? They’re saying there’s a murderer!”

In the vicinity, a morning market had also been set up. Moreover, with the rows of shops and the men and women on the street, the surroundings were instantly swarmed by a crowd as thick as a black mountain. Among them, the faces of informers who had rushed over could also be seen, but there was no one who tried to help Yan Po. They were merely guffawing while looking on suspiciously. No matter how much the old woman appealed to the crowd, crying, “This man killed my daughter—he’s a murderer!”, there was not the slightest tendency among the townspeople—who all knew Song Jiang as a gentle soul—to regard him as a criminal. On the contrary, they perceived this as an unforeseen nuisance for Song Jiang and sympathized with him, while conversely knocking down Yan Po in her frenzy.

Yet just then, a man suddenly burst through the crowd, tore the old woman away from Song Jiang’s body, and slapped her cheek so hard she collapsed. And as he kicked away the raging Yan Po once more,

“Come on, Master. Don’t mind this crazy old woman—just get going already. I’ll handle what’s left.”

he urged him on.

This was precisely what Song Jiang’s usual moral character had wrought. As the proverb goes—"When a beloved person suffers, all pity them; when a disliked one escapes calamity, all grow suspicious"—could this be called heaven’s salvation?

Song Jiang was in desperate straits, his vision nearly darkening, but no sooner had he heard that voice than he found himself fleeing like a startled rabbit. He vanished without looking back. But the old woman refused to yield. Rubbing her waist, she stood up no sooner than—

“Oh! You’re Tang Niu’er the pickle vendor. That’s right—you’re also an accomplice to the crime! Come here now!” “Wh-where d’you want me to go? I’ll go wherever!” “Where else? To the magistrate’s office!” Yan Po, using Song Jiang as a substitute and still gripping his collar, pushed through the clamoring, scattering crowd and entered the gates of the nearby magistrate’s office.

Magistrate Shi Wenbin, upon hearing of “the early morning murder of a beauty,” promptly ascended from his official residence to the office hall, seated Yan Po and Tang Niu’er in the white sand court, and opened an inquiry.

Magistrate Shi Wenbin was astonished. The suspected perpetrator, Song Jiang, was a rare virtuous official whom he deeply trusted and even held in esteem despite being his subordinate. "...Why Song Jiang?" He felt both pathetic and, at the same time, overwhelmingly compelled to save him. There, he conducted the interrogation slowly, made efforts to console the old woman’s heart, and tried to steer things toward a settlement, but the old woman immediately showed an utterly indignant expression. “If someone kills a person, they are to be killed by the authorities—that’s the law.” “Have that guy hanged according to the law!”

With that, there too she raged and howled without cease. Having no other choice, that day they first sent the old woman home and, as Tang Niu’er had been involved the previous night, temporarily placed him in a makeshift prison. And so, while delaying the handling of the case in every possible way, it was the magistrate’s intention to find a favorable lead for Song Jiang during that time.

However, at this juncture,

“I won’t allow it.”

Meanwhile, a subordinate had covertly initiated feverish maneuvers.

This was Zhang Wenyuan (Zhang San), the lover of the murdered beauty Yan Poxi—he had volunteered to lead the investigation into the incident, handling everything from examining bodies at the crime scene to collecting testimonies from neighbors. Moreover, he presented the dagger with which Song Jiang had stabbed Poxi that night. “Magistrate,” he said with an unpleasant smirk, “given this evidence, there can be no doubt regarding Song Jiang’s heinous crimes. Furthermore, he has not reported to the office since that night. If we delay, he may flee.”

With an unpleasant smirk, he repeatedly pressed the magistrate to issue the arrest warrant. For Zhang Wenyuan, Song Jiang was a detested romantic rival; moreover, despite being his superior, there was a desire to overturn his excessively favorable reputation alongside ambitions for promotion to that position—all of which drove him. However, Magistrate Shi Wenbin had already discerned nearly all of his conduct and true intentions through tip-offs from townspeople. Thus, the psychological conflict between them—one pushing to issue the warrant, the other resisting—proved remarkably intricate in its complexity.

However, with even the evidence and Yan Po’s formal complaint laid out before him, the magistrate finally relented,

Song Jiang Arrest Magistrate Shi Wenbin had no choice but to issue the arrest warrant. However, it was already too late; the band of constables soon returned empty-handed and reported back.

“The culprit is no longer at his residence.” “Since vanishing without a trace, there has been no sign of him.”

Then, Zhang Wenyuan, who had been listening nearby, suddenly shouted with veins bulging in his neck. “That’s preposterous! It’s only natural he wouldn’t be at his usual lodging by now. By birth, that bastard’s from Song Family Village. In the village, Old Man Song and his younger brother Song Qing still live together. Why aren’t you raiding that place? He must be hiding there!”

Song Family Village’s Song Jiang family home was raided. However, Old Man Song’s reverent response and the constables—who had received generous bribes—once again returned empty-handed to Magistrate Shi Wenbin with this report: “According to the household head Old Man Song’s explanation, though it is his family home, he had already transferred family headship to his younger brother Song Qing four or five years ago. As for that Song Jiang—claiming that family ties would distract from his official career—he alone withdrew from the Song family registry.” “As you see here with this document copy, regarding Song Jiang who’s now a stranger to them, they declare they know nothing and refuse any responsibility.”

The magistrate wore a rather relieved expression. “Hmm, I see,” he said. “With such evidence presented, we cannot detain Old Man Song and his younger brother without cause. We will place a bounty on Song Jiang’s capture and have him searched for extensively elsewhere.” Naturally, this outcome did not sit well with Zhang Wenyuan. Two or three days later, Yan Po—egged on by him behind the scenes—arrived at the county office with a contorted expression. She then launched into a raucous tirade outside the magistrate’s office.

“Hmph! What kind of Magistrate are you, Your Honor?” “Quit putting on airs as Magistrate!” “Can’t you even catch a single murderer?” “And that villain is right there before your eyes!” Emboldened, the old woman raised her voice even louder and stamped her feet on the floor. “Try to put yourself in someone else’s position.” “Who’s going to feed this old woman who’s lost her daughter?” “Will the county office feed me?” “That’s not something you can do either, I suppose.” “If you can’t even do that—if you won’t catch the criminal and just keep up this pretense—then fine!” “This old woman has her own plans.” “I’ll go to another magistrate’s office and file a complaint.” “If that doesn’t work, I’ll go to the capital—and even if I have to throw myself before the palanquin of some high-ranking official—I swear I’ll have my vengeance!”

At that moment, hurriedly from one of the rooms,

“Now, now.”

The one who rushed out to calm the old woman was none other than Zhang Wenyuan, who had been colluding with her. “Just go home for today—it’s not as though the authorities are taking this case lightly at all.” With deliberate theatrics, he finally managed to drive her out of the office. And immediately, Zhang Wenyuan pressed Shi Wenbin once more, ultimately forcing the magistrate to deploy another large-scale force of constables.

This time, even the constable leaders—the renowned Zhu Tong and Lei Heng—stood up to lead the force. The entire group surrounded the Song residence. The two men went inside and presented the warrant to Old Man Song. "This is it, old man," said Zhu Tong. "Don't take our usual goodwill the wrong way—we're searching the house." "Thank you for your trouble," Old Man Song replied. "Proceed as you wish." The old patriarch had already resigned himself to fate. The two men made a circuit of the mansion before advancing into a dark inner room resembling a storehouse corridor. —There stood a household Buddhist altar. The four walls exuded an oppressive chill. When they unlatched one of the thick doors, they found a long chest for storing altar implements. Its position seemed odd. Working together, they shifted it sideways. —And there it was: the unmistakable entrance to a cellar below.

Lei Heng—what had he thought—

“Zhu Tong, there’s another strange room over there.” “You stay and check below here.”

With a look that communicated something unspoken, he briskly removed himself from the spot. When he descended the pitch-black stairs, something brushed against his face. It appeared to be a thin twisted cord of cloth fibers. When he pulled it, a clear, ringing sound echoed from the bronze bell above his head.

“Who’s there…?”

A figure crawled out from the depths. Staring intently, he realized that was none other than Song Jiang himself. There, having long been deprived of daylight, his pallid face bore disheveled sideburns that looked painfully unkempt; even in the darkness, the gauntness of his shoulders was evident. “Oh, if it isn’t Zhu Tong! Ah, you’ve finally come!”

“Clerk. There’s no need for alarm. Both Lei Heng and I—you know how we’ve always stood with you. We two who’ve received your compassion these many years, in public matters and private—how could we ever bind our benefactor in ropes?”

“But then you won’t be able to account for yourselves to the authorities.” “Don’t worry—we’ll spin some tale,” said Zhu Tong. “The magistrate himself wants you gone quietly. Half the office says that Zhang Wenyuan’s the real villain here anyway…… Please, flee to another province. Do you have somewhere in mind?” “You have my gratitude,” replied Song Jiang, bowing his head briefly. “Though nothing’s certain yet, my first thought is Chai Jin—Xiao Xuanfeng, that renowned scholar in Cangzhou.”

“I see.”

“The second is Xiao Li Guang Hua Rong of Qingfeng Stronghold in Qingzhou.” “—Next, if I seek refuge with the retired gentleman of White Tiger Mountain and his brothers, I believe they would somehow assist me, but…”

“You’ve always had wide connections.” “There should be no worries about those destinations.” “In any case, make your preparations at once.”

With that, Zhu Tong bid farewell and returned upstairs from the basement. Then, together with Lei Heng—after lingering around the area a while longer—they stepped outside the gate and deliberately declared with exaggerated gestures to their constable subordinates: “Song Jiang is no longer here.” “We searched every corner of the residence but found no trace of him.” “Only the attic and underfloor remain.” “Search there for thoroughness.” “Meanwhile, we will interrogate Old Man Song once more.” Eventually, Zhu Tong and Lei Heng—having taken Old Man Song into custody—entered the same household Buddhist altar as before, firmly shut it behind them, and began whispering in secret; thus what manner of discussion unfolded there remains unknown.

During that time, the constables dutifully crawled through attics and under floors. Of course, there was nothing unusual at all.

As evening fell amid these proceedings, the Song family served them lavish spreads of wine and meat, while discreetly providing each with silver bribes wrapped in sleeves. From the highest officials to the lowest runners under Song Dynasty rule, such practices were routine. Lei Heng grew drunk, Zhu Tong grew drunk, and soon they withdrew beneath the night sky like a retreating tide. "A regrettable outcome." The two reported back to the magistrate. "Song Jiang is no longer within our jurisdiction. The old father's claim that he hasn't shown his face at the family home since the incident appears truthful." "Though 'family home' rings hollow for one who's severed his household registry—free as any stranger now." "There remains nothing to be done."

“Hmm…” The magistrate groaned with feigned gravity, “So he has indeed fled to another province.” “The one who stubbornly insisted from the start that he was hiding in the Song residence was that Zhang Wenyuan.” “There’s no alternative.” “Prepare wanted notices with physical descriptions and distribute them to all provincial offices.” The magistrate wore a smug expression. While proceeding with routine official protocols, he secretly had Zhu Tong pressure Zhang Wenyuan and Yan Po behind the scenes. Zhang too harbored a sensitive secret.

There were whispers within the department about his history with Song Jiang, and that old woman would bend for money at the slightest touch. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Rather than clumsily persisting and losing his current position through his own actions—he, shrewd in his interests—soon showed signs of relenting. Thus, in any case, the "Poxi Murder Case" slipped through the dangerous meshes of Yuncheng County Office’s net, became a widely circulated wanted notice with a reward across various provinces, and eventually faded into obscurity as but a minor ripple among the countless waves of time.

Song Jiang knocked on Xiao Xuanfeng’s door. He also met with the malaria-stricken man.

The stars of dawn were pale, and there was no wind in the withered lotuses of the old estate’s pond. To the phoenix tree whose leaves fell one by one, even the sound of birds that always came to sing—this morning, there was a sadness that pierced the hearts of the Song family’s father and son.

“Be careful on your way.” “Don’t worry about what comes after.” Old Man Song, his aged eyes welling with tears, saw his two sons off that morning from the back gate of the house onto a misty path like a light rain.

They were Song Jiang and his younger brother Song Qing. Since Song Qing was innocent, Song Jiang had said, "Stay home and devote yourself to caring for our father in his remaining years," but Old Man Song objected: "No, no—there’s no telling when a new magistrate might take over and reopen the investigation, and the current state of the world is hardly reliable. To support such an old family, Song Qing need not waste his entire life. Follow your brother wherever he goes and live a life without regrets." With that declaration, he had firmly made them set out together.

Old Man Song’s lament was not without reason.

For example.

The existence of an underground cellar within the Song household attested to one facet of this reality. Under the Song court's administration at that time, every manner of vice ran rampant—obsequious flattery, false denunciations, bribery, abuse of police authority, privatization of judicial power—so these corrupt currents tainted even the most remote local administrations of prefectures and counties with varying degrees of foulness. Thus, even a minor transgression of personal bias or legal overstep in a position as critical as Chief Clerk—which Song Jiang had occupied—could invite slanderous accusations, swiftly bringing calamities like exile or property confiscation whose repercussions extended to entire clans. This drove many officials to sever household registries preemptively against the disaster of nine familial exterminations, while others constructed cellars to conceal family assets underground—all while masking these efforts within the minutiae of daily existence.

And so,

"That kind of existence has become too dreary," Old Man Song thought. "I won't have even Qing waste his life guarding cellars." This was undoubtedly the old father's unfeigned true sentiment. "Farewell. May fortune favor you," he said. "Forgive this unfilial act today." Then added, "Someday I'll make proper amends." Song Jiang turned back repeatedly while Song Qing lingered wistfully, their father's figure growing distant in the mist.

That day, the fog eventually turned into a cold drizzle, and the long maple-lined road at the county border thoroughly soaked the brothers' Fanyang hats and travel raincloaks.

Their journey was long. After many days, they finally arrived at the gate of Xiao Xuanfeng Chai Jin in Hengshui County, Cangzhou—the very gate of that local magnate who had once granted Leopard Head Lin Chong a night’s mercy when he was being dragged to Cangzhou’s great penal colony under false charges, and who later facilitated his passage to Liangshan Marsh. “Elder brother, what an imposing estate,”

“That’s only natural—the ancestors are a branch of the Great Zhou Emperor’s bloodline… He’s what you might call the Lord Mengchang of our time.”

As they approached the side of the gate, the retainers’ longhouse came into view. When they gave their names and asked whether the master was present, they were told he had gone to a nearby village and was not at home.

“In that case, shall we wait here?”

As they removed their hats and started to sit down by the ditch at the gate’s front, the retainers who had been whispering among themselves came over. “If you’re honored guests,” they said, “we’ll get scolded for making you wait here. Please use that pavilion over there.” Led inside, they entered the garden’s four-eaved pavilion, set down their waist swords and baggage, and waited for their host. When they surveyed their surroundings—the garden’s expanse stretched before them. A peach grove stood veiled in mist while willows encircled a small lake where white geese, ducks, wild geese, and mandarin ducks claimed the water’s surface like sovereigns of their realm. Children’s field songs drifted faintly from afar, and even the distant herds of sheep, horses, and cattle seemed lifted from an ink painting. On another flank stood twin towers—study halls and guest chambers linked by endless covered walkways.

“Ah, sorry to keep you waiting.” Beside the distant stable, leaving his horse and attendants behind, Chai Jin came striding over. It appeared he had already heard Song Jiang’s name from the retainers, and without delay,

“Anyway, this way.” He guided them to a guest room in the Quanlou.

They formally exchanged names—though truly, there was no need for introductions, as they already knew each other’s character and reputation intimately. “Now then,” Chai Jin began, “this visit is most unexpected. Might I ask what brings you to such a remote place? Could it be official business under government orders?” “Ah, Master,” Song Jiang replied with a self-deprecating smile, “you may laugh at me. In truth, this Song Jiang has committed a grave crime unbefitting his position as Chief Clerk—abandoning both his post in the county seat and his aging father in our hometown—to become a wanderer adrift by cruel necessity.”

“Well now—you’re the one they say carries himself like a noble gentleman?” “And to think I let myself get tangled up with some worthless woman—a blunder worthy of a lovesick fool.”

“Ha ha ha! How delightfully human!” Chai Jin laughed. “Even someone of your stature would stumble into such affairs?” “This is no trivial matter,” Song Jiang countered. “Though unintended, I stand guilty of killing a woman. Wanted posters bearing my likeness now circulate across provinces—I’ve become a man with nowhere to belong.” At this confession, Chai Jin’s stern demeanor melted further, his face revealing deepened camaraderie. And when Song Jiang laid bare every detail of his circumstances, not a trace of judgment chilled the air.

“I see.” “Upon hearing the details properly now—this blunder could only come from someone like you.” “But whether this marks your life’s ruin or flowering can’t be judged without perspective.” “For now—rest easy.” “Imagine yourself aboard a great vessel.”

It was a household where guests never ceased. Though generous in hosting all visitors, he showed particular kindness to Song Jiang and Song Qing. Feeling the world's expansiveness through having reached someone truly reliable, the two found several days passing swiftly as they reflected on their fortune.

And then one day. “You must be growing weary of nothing but reading.” “Today we’ve prepared an array of splendid delicacies.” Chai Jin had specially arranged a banquet where they drank merrily into the night. The misgovernment of those above, the decadence below—when men opened their hearts to one another, their discussions knew no bounds, extending even to how one ought to live life. In the midst of this revelry, Song Jiang suddenly—

“Excuse me for a moment.”

He got up to go to the restroom. After borrowing a paper candle and finishing his business, he suddenly felt drawn to the night breeze and turned down a different corridor. Following along the hallway, he came before a dark room and tripped heavily over something. To make matters worse, from the momentum, the candle in his hand seemed to have fallen onto the back of the neck of a man hunched over in that shadowy spot. The man suddenly— “Hot! Hot! Hot...!”

He leaped up dramatically and immediately seized Song Jiang by the collar, lunging at him. “Are you blind, you bastard?!”

The one who was surprised was none other than Song Jiang himself.

He thought there wouldn’t be anyone crouching in such a dark hallway, but as a guest, he prostrated himself and apologized profusely.

But he would not listen.

The man kept shouting and shouting. “You’re another freeloader here, huh? Quit acting all innocent! Look—there’s a burn blister on my neck now! I’ll scorch your face with this candle—sit right there! …What? You didn’t notice? Don’t fuck with me! Malaria’s my chronic illness. You expect me to go around announcing my illness to every last person before I’m allowed to sleep?!”

At this commotion, the household servants joined in the uproar, and before long, Chai Jin himself came rushing over to see what was happening.

“Now, now,” he calmed the man with malaria, “Since you said you were unwell since yesterday, I didn’t invite you to today’s banquet either—but if your malaria burns this fiercely, it can’t be grave.” “Come back inside with me.” and led him back to the banquet hall. There he formally reintroduced Timely Rain Song Jiang and his younger brother Song Qing. No sooner had he heard this than the man recoiled violently. His earlier bluster vanished as he pressed his forehead to the floor, unable to raise his face for some time.

“I am utterly without any face to show. “In the world, I have often heard of your esteemed name.” “That the Timely Rain Song Jiang would be you—I had absolutely no idea, not even in my wildest dreams.” “Please, I beg you to kindly overlook my earlier rudeness.”

His apology was delivered with the nervousness of someone drenched in cold sweat beneath his arms.

“Master,” Song Jiang calmly turned around and asked.

“Is this person a family member of yours, or perhaps a retainer of your household?” “Oh—merely a traveler,” “Though truth be told, for nearly a year now I’ve been acting like some carefree lodger here, making myself quite at home.” “My apologies for not introducing myself sooner.” “I am hardly worthy of such formalities,” the man hastily added with a deferential bow. “I was born in Qinghe County. My family name is Wu, given name Song. By birth order—the second son—Wu Erlang.”

“Oh.”

“The Wu Erlang of Qinghe County—that Wu Song… could that be you?” “What a strange coincidence! I, Song Jiang, have long heard your esteemed name.” “That someone like myself has reached your ears—I am utterly ashamed.” “But tell me, Wu Song-dono—what brings you to stay here?”

"Due to my wretched nature, I got into a minor fight back in my hometown of Qinghe County. Because of that, I fled wearing straw sandals and received the great patron's protection here. Just as the uproar back home had finally cooled down and I was about to take my leave, my chronic malaria flared up." "And so I've ended up imposing on your kindness yet again." "So malaria became the matchmaker of our meeting?"

“Would burning one’s nape with a candle even work against malaria?” “Oh? How so?” “Somehow it’s completely cured now.” “Ha ha ha! That’s bizarre.” The whole company clutched their bellies laughing, then refreshed their cups and plates to pour out gallons of wine that mingled men’s hearts and spirits. Before long, they heard the rooster’s crow.

Because of this, Song Jiang and Song Qing spent their days in pleasant harmony, and Wu Song also ended up postponing his departure to deepen their fellowship; but, “I’m worried about my brother back home—I keep thinking I should go see how he’s been doing lately, so...”

And then, one day, Wu Song suddenly announced his departure.

“Now, wait—at least stay for tomorrow.” Then, Chai Jin took out a treasured roll of fabric from his storehouse as a farewell gift for him, split it into three parts—the first tailored into clothing for Song Jiang, the second for Song Qing, and the next made into a splendid travel garment for Wu Song. It was fabric imported from beyond the distant western desert, possessing remarkably fresh hues and fragrance. Dressed in that garment with white-and-purple striped leggings, a black lacquered sedge hat hung with crimson tassels, a field sword thrust at his waist, and an oak staff in hand, Wu Song—

“I will surely meet you again someday, but for now, I must express gratitude for your long hospitality and the unexpected honor of encountering such noble company before returning to my hometown for a time.” With these words, he toasted a crisp farewell that day and departed through the gate of his benefactor Chai Jin.

Leaving Song Jiang aside for now.

Following the figure of Wu Song on his journey there, his long strides were the very picture of carefree boldness. After days of travel, he reached the foothills of a mountain in Yanggu County.

“Huh? What’s this?”

The tavern door where he stopped. If he read the signboard resembling an official notice,

Three Bowls, No Crossing the Hill was written there.

“Innkeeper, give me a drink.” “Use a large bowl—it’s less trouble.”

“Coming right up!” When he saw pork or beef skewers came with it, “Hey now—this stuff ain’t gonna fill my belly. Bring me two pounds o’ the good fatty cuts, stewed up proper!” “You’ve quite the capacity, sir.” “Quit makin’ that face. The more folks drink, the more you sell—ain’t that how business works?” “But our sake’s a top-shelf premium ginjo that matches the signboard’s claim. It’s renowned as a rich local brew. Please keep that in mind as you drink.”

“That riddle of a sign—you think I’m some kinda miso-scaredy-cat?” “It’s not miso—it means ‘pure unblended premium sake.’ In other words, three bowls’ll hit you so hard you won’t make it over yonder hill.”

“Heh, heh, heh. “That’s funny—I’ve already downed three bowls.” “Master, you’re not right in the head. “I’ve never seen a customer like you!” “Don’t mess with me. “I’m just warming up.” “Bring three more bowls!” He drained those too, ignoring the gaping innkeeper, “Hey! Three more bowls!”

“Urk... W-well, maybe you oughta stop now?” “You takin’ me for some cheap drunk who’d skip out on the bill?”

He lined up silver coins there, then devoured more meat while crunching vigorously on pickles, and then, unhurriedly—

“Ah... feelin’ pretty good now. “So this is your ‘three bowls and you can’t cross the hill’ wine? “Cost ya a pretty penny, didn’t it?” With his staff in one hand, he swung it carelessly and walked away from the eaves.

Then, the innkeeper who had followed after him called out. “Hey there, traveler! Where might you be heading?” “What the hell you talkin’ about? Ain’t got no choice but to head where I’m pointed!”

“If you go that way, you’ll reach Jingyang Ridge.” “What’s it to you?” “Didn’t you see the government notices posted along the road? Lately, a huge white-browed tiger’s been prowling Jingyang Ridge—it’s killed travelers and even locals time and again.”

“Hmm. A tiger, huh? Ain’t that just some rowdy bastard causin’ trouble at your joint?” “Tsk—listen seriously, will you? I’m tryin’ to stop you outta kindness here. You ain’t lookin’ to die young, are ya?” “Even so, I gotta cross this ridge to reach Qinghe County.” “That’s why folks wait at the ridge’s edge till twenty-thirty gather—then push through with torches up front, makin’ a holy racket. The Official Notices at every crossroad say plain as day: no walkin’ alone at dawn, daybreak, or noon!”

“Huh, was that it? I didn’t see them. Alright then—guess I’ll go pay my respects to this Tiger of yours!” “You stubborn mule! Master! Master! If you get eaten, don’t come crying to me!”

“If I get eaten, I’ll leave my bones to you.” “Keep it as tea money. Hahahaha!” His laughter had already vanished into the shadowy woods at the foot of the mountain. The innkeeper covered his ears and scurried back.

The Tiger of Jingyang Ridge Enshrines Wu Song on the Hero’s Palanquin

After traveling twenty chō along the mountain footpath, there lay an area dense with a mountain god shrine’s thicket. From there began Jingyang Ridge’s mountain pass. When Wu Song left the tavern, it was still just past noon, but amid his staggering steps, the tips of ancient trees ahead became dyed in a blood-like sunset while the ground beneath his feet was already dim and shadowy. “Ah—so this is it! The county’s official notice.” When he looked, the notice read: Recently, a giant tiger has appeared on the ridge, frequently causing harm to human lives. Though officials and citizens have united their efforts to capture and kill it, its claws remain unsated with blood—the gruesome toll only grows by the day. Solo travelers must exercise caution; local residents must likewise be vigilant.

*Yanggu County Notice*

"Ah, I see! ... This is bad—a chill just ran down my spine." ……

"This is bad—a chill just ran down my damn spine." Yet Wu Song’s bearing seemed to declare, *So be it.* Or perhaps in his drunken haze, he found twisted amusement in this turn. Night had fully descended. The mountain pass reached its third station. A half-moon—tiger-eyed—glared from the valley below. The drunkenness lingered. Legs dragged like lead.

“……Rather than a tiger—I just hope this isn’t when the malaria flares up again.”

He had finally neared the summit. When he looked, there in the sparse woods along the mountain path lay a massive blue flat stone. Wu Song removed his sedge hat and rolled onto his back. He hadn’t intended to sleep, but lulled by the pleasant haze of wine, he drifted off completely before he knew it. The half-moon’s light, cast from somewhere, bathed the colossal man’s form and stern countenance like a warrior statue carved in relief upon the stone’s surface. He appeared no older than twenty-six or twenty-seven, with crimson lips and slightly curled sideburns; even with his eyes closed, they seemed to harbor defiance, and already a thunderous snore rumbled forth.

Truly, this too must have been the nature of a Demon Star among the 108 Stars—destined to dwell on this transient earth, born as a gallant youth in Qinghe County’s streets. Then came a faint rustling through the trees. The world fell utterly silent—even birds, beasts, and burrowing insects seemed to hold their breath. And no wonder: through the rustling leaves came a creature lumbering closer, its massive frame undulating with each ponderous step. Golden fur mottled with black covered its body, needle-like bristles sprouted from its nostrils, and eyes like polished mirrors—

Sniff! Grrr... Grrrowl...

The tiger, having caught the human's scent, now displayed an uncanny mix of battle lust and primal excitement even in the twitching tip of its tail. Yet the beast must have harbored doubts too. Despite its regal frame, the creature circled the flat stone repeatedly with oddly timid strides. Then near Wu Song's face, it rumbled deep in its throat, stiffened its forelegs, and twitched into a striking stance—claws bared as if to pounce. But still it held back. At that precise moment, Wu Song's eyes—snapping abruptly open—met the tiger's in a crackling stare. Though startled inwardly, he remained stone-still, locking gazes with the beast.

For whatever reason, the tiger began circling the flat stone once more. Simultaneously observing its tail, Wu Song also sprang upright. The tiger inherently disliked enemies circling around to its tail. The back was its most vulnerable spot. That’s why it became enraged. In a flash, it leaped and struck Wu Song. “Oof!”

Then, Wu Song lowered his stance and deftly evaded the next onslaught as well. Then, the tiger curled its disengaged body into a ball, arched the ridge of its spine, and huffed out a growl. Its fetid breath sent gravel flying, rage burning in its golden eyes—no sooner had it launched into a third leap than it tried to tear Wu Song apart beneath its crimson maw and four-limbed claws. But once again evaded by Wu Song, it attempted a swift “sweep” as its final gambit.

Strike, kick, sweep.

The tiger’s combat strategy held these three moves as its ultimate techniques. When none of these proved effective, even the mighty beast king began to lose heart, they say. Wu Song hadn’t known this, but the moment his keen eyes perceived the tiger’s opening, he leaped at it this time. Aiming for the silver-furred patch on its forehead, he landed a first fist, then a second fist struck its nose, and a third strike thrust into the tiger’s eye.

The tiger emitted a sneeze-like cry. But of course, such an attack wouldn’t intimidate it. At that moment, Wu Song’s body rolled seven shaku away like a ball. No sooner had he rolled away than the yellow-striped serpent, trailing its tail, lunged as if to bite some part of Wu Song—but instead, the tiger’s body flipped violently. His footwork threw the tiger into disarray. Moreover, faced with the human’s swiftness in circling around to target its rear, the tiger was forced to spin round and round—and even the tiger itself seemed to grow somewhat dizzy from the motion.

Wu Song picked up his well-used staff and tucked it under his arm. The secret technique of the staff must have created bizarre illusions within the tiger's eyes. Dozens of human shadows surrounded it, likely appearing to toy with it. Its ferocious roars and leaping attacks gradually weakened; though it bit at the staff several times, even using the staff as leverage plunged it into a desperate struggle. Wu Song pressed forward, seized the roots of the fur on its white forehead, and rained down ten, twenty iron-fisted blows in rapid succession. The tiger gushed blood from its eyes and nose. Its roar shook the entire mountain. He kicked again. He pummeled it with a relentless barrage of blows. In its agony, the tiger clawed at the earth beneath its belly, mounds rising on either side of its body… Finally, the tiger thrust its body into the pit it had dug itself, its nose striking the ground with a heavy thud.

Wu Song also slumped down. He remained dazed, breathing heavily, but upon snapping back to his senses drew his dagger and delivered countless finishing blows to the tiger’s spleen, heart, and lungs. Fresh blood soaked the arm, and the sleeve was stained mottled crimson.

That figure eventually crossed Jingyang Ridge to the west and was staggering down the road toward the village as dawn approached. It was only natural for the locals to view him suspiciously, “Sir… traveling gentleman…”

About three people chased after him and asked. “Where might you have come from last night?”

“What—where from? It’s obvious,” he retorted. “I crossed Jingyang Ridge.”

“Huh? Didn’t you encounter the tiger?” “A tiger? I beat it to death with these fists! The tiger—I beat it to death with these fists!” “You must be joking!” “If you’re going to laugh it off as a joke, why did you ask in the first place? You bastards!” Again, two passing hunters asked him the same thing. Wu Song’s reply was the same. The hunters, upon seeing the blood on Wu Song’s sleeve, raced up the ridge half-convinced. Chaos erupted—before long, the tiger’s corpse was wrapped in four coils and carried down to the foot of the mountain by over a dozen men shouldering poles with a heave-ho.

In the village, bells rang and clappers beat, creating a commotion as if a major event had erupted. Women and children came out while chickens flapped their wings, sheep bleated, and pigs squealed. The onlookers crowded together calling out to one another: “The tiger! The tiger! They say it’s been slain!” In an instant they buried the village road under a mountain of people. Upon hearing urgent news, local village headmen and elders emerged too. After some time passed, county office officials came galloping on horseback in great numbers. They summoned headmen and hunters alike and were interrogating them about the matter when—

“What are you saying? “So the one who killed the tiger wasn’t your group, but some traveler? “And you say this young traveler slew it alone? “What an astonishing man... But... but... where in heaven’s name is he now?”

"But after he came down to the foot of the mountain, we couldn’t find where he went." "What do you mean, you can’t find him? He couldn’t possibly be some kind of incarnation, could he? Search! Search! He can’t have gone far yet!"

Wu Song lay utterly spent. At a corner of a tavern on the village outskirts, he slept without consciousness. There too—having likely gulped liquor on an empty stomach—he appeared beyond all worldly cares. "A hero! A true hero! Please, if you would deign to open your eyes..." Suddenly assaulted by clamor at his ear and insistent shaking, Wu Song jerked awake to find county officials, village elders... nay, even a throng choking the street.

“That’s the man who killed the tiger! “That’s the tiger-slaying hero!” The commotion was like a festival, with them roaring cheers.

While rubbing his sleep-deprived eyes, he was placed into a prepared sedan chair under the tavern’s eaves.—Looking over, he saw the massive tiger’s corpse laid out on another assembled platform. He was still in a dreamlike state,

“Hey! What’s the idea of loading me and this tiger onto this thing? Where the hell are you taking us?” he shouted repeatedly. The officials and village headmen, as though they were servants attending a hero, revered him: “In any case, we humbly request your presence at the county office.” “You, the great benefactor who eliminated this scourge—the villagers revere you as a savior deity, and the Magistrate has commanded us to welcome you as a meritorious hero who rescued the domain from calamity.” “Please bear with us, even if it’s an inconvenience.”

With that, they promptly ordered the porters to hoist up the tiger’s platform and his sedan chair. The sedan chair (hand-palanquin) was hung with festive red silk and flower-patterned cords. When the procession began to move, the crowd of people—young and old, men and women—rushed forward eagerly. And then, they threw five-colored scraps of paper like flowers at Wu Song’s sedan chair. They also took turns offering mutton, jugs of wine, steamed buns, and the like into his lap. Moreover, at every crossroads, with firecracker fireworks and the crowds’ cheers of farewell and hand-waving and the like, the procession nearly came to a standstill.

Furthermore, this festive commotion intensified even more as they entered Yanggu County's city walls that day. The entire town had already heard the news, and the roadside became a solid wall of people. Wu Song felt uneasy.

“What the hell is this... They’re treating me like a damn emperor.” The Magistrate welcomed him with the rites befitting a distinguished guest. He prepared a grand banquet, seated him in the place of honor at the feast, and read aloud a formal letter of commendation. Moreover, having collected one thousand strings of cash from local wealthy households as a reward, he presented it to him alongside words of praise.

"Well, that's mighty kind of you," said Wu Song, sounding at a loss for words. "It's not like killing a single tiger with my fists was some grand feat needing resources. Just a stroke of luck I stumbled on by the roadside." "Please give that money to the hunters who've worked their bones bare or the poor families here who lost kin to the tiger."

“Is that acceptable?” The Magistrate wore an expression of astonishment at his lack of greed. “Whether it’s good or not—that’s more than enough for me, sir.”

“Hmm, most admirable.” “Very well. I’ll have the money distributed to them.” “…How about it, Wu Song? Starting today, I wish to appoint you as the county’s Chief Constable (squad leader). Do you have the desire to serve in office?” “It’s not that I’m unwilling, but the truth is, I’m in the middle of a journey to meet my brother in Qinghe County that brought me here.”

“Qinghe County is certainly not far from here.” “It’s just the neighboring county.” “You can meet him anytime.” “Clerk, Wu Song is hereby appointed Chief Constable effective today.” “Proceed with the formalities immediately.”

Wu Song felt this promotion too was just another ripple in the current of events and could only murmur, “Well now.” He showed little sign of delight.

For four or five days, he rested at the county office building. Every person he met would congratulate him or lavish praise on his tiger-slaying. Each time, he made an uncomfortable face,

“Oh… Thanks… Oh…”

He merely scratched his head and acted uncharacteristically bashful.

On one such day. After leaving the county office building and wandering aimlessly through the town park with no purpose, he came to a playground where children were making noise on swings—and there in one corner was a shabby steamed bun vendor who had set down his load. "Oh! … Wu Song!" As soon as he stood up, he tripped over the carrying pole at his feet and came over as if swimming through the air to hug him.

“Huh?!”

Wu Song was dumbfounded. No—the next moment, his face broke into a broad smile, and he abruptly placed both hands on the short, stocky steamed bun vendor’s shoulders. “Big brother! It’s you!” “What on earth happened to you?” “What are you doing in a place like this?” “Wu Song!” “Ah, so it really was my brother Wu Song after all!” “I’m so ashamed.” “Don’t cry here on the side of the road. “I never thought Big brother would be here in Purple Stone Street.” “Did something bad happen back in our hometown of Qinghe County?”

“I haven’t done anything wrong.” “I’m sure you haven’t.” “After all, you’re such a good-natured person by nature.” “Then was it because of debt or…?”

“Nope,” Wu Dalang answered. “Because I got myself a wife.” “You changed where you live just because you got married? That’s a strange tale if I ever heard one,” Wu Song said skeptically. “I can’t wrap my head around it.” “If I explain, you’ll understand,” Wu Dalang replied. “Brother, come over here. That’s how it is.” With that, he led him back to their original spot and sat down facing the park pond, the load of fried buns for sale behind him. Though they were brothers born of the same womb, Wu Song had long thought, Big brother’s too kind-hearted. On top of that, he’s ugly, his body’s deformed… What a pitiful man…—inverting their roles as he pitied his elder sibling.

Therefore, ever since he was a child, the neighborhood children would jeer, “Piggy! Piggy!” “Stubby little rag!” Whenever they mocked him like that, Wu Song would grow furious and punish them harshly. Even after reaching adulthood, such incidents occurred many times. Thus, before Wu Song donned straw sandals and fled to another county, Wu Dalang had lived protected from others’ mockery. But last year, during his absence, Wu Dalang ended up taking an unexpected wife. And she was no ordinary beauty. A woman named Pan Jinlian—like a celestial maiden who had forgotten her feathered robe on earth and been forced to wed some lowly mortal.

Of course, there was a reason for it.

Originally, this young girl named Jinlian—whose surname was Pan—had been purchased as a female slave by a wealthy family in Qinghe County. But as her beauty matured, Master Baboon, her owner, began constantly making lewd advances toward her. Female slaves were considered property, so Master Baboon’s lustful gaze hardly raised eyebrows. Yet the bud of Pan Jinlian’s desire had not yet unfurled to such depths. She resisted, wept and fled—until at last she exposed everything to Master Baboon’s legal wife.

Master Baboon was tormented by his jealous legal wife and laughed at by his household members and children, leaving him utterly humiliated. Thus, his excessive fondness turned into a hundredfold hatred; without handing over Jinlian herself to a slave trader, he instead used only her belongings as dowry and married her off to Wu Dalang—an ugly man ridiculed by the entire town for his lack of livelihood. In other words, it was an act of retaliation: “—May you suffer hardships for the rest of your life!”

Now, Wu Dalang was a good-natured man. Slobbering with devotion, he reverently welcomed Jinlian and took care of everything himself—from preparing breakfast and dinner to running errands— “Wife! Jinlian!”

Such was his attitude of pious adoration. Thus his wife's sluggishness became the perfect laughingstock for the entire town. Even the fried buns seemed to join in the mockery. Whenever anyone passed by, jeering about "that three-inch man" or "the stubby little rag," Wu Dalang's house turned into such a commotion—as if every prying eye in town could see straight through its walls—until finally: "Well now! What fine flesh wasted—fallen right into a mutt's jaws!"

and were jeered at like this. Even Wu Dalang could no longer endure the relentless jeering and malice. Taking Jinlian with him, he finally fled his hometown, set up a small household in Purple Stone Street of the neighboring county, and went around selling fried buns daily.

“Hm, I see. …Brother, you’ve endured quite some hardships while I was away.” “But well—it can’t be helped.” “Having such a beauty for a wife—that’s a lifetime’s blessing.” “A little envy from the world can’t be helped.”

“That’s right, Wu Song. I thought so too—now I earn comfortably enough. My wife Jinlian’s truly a woman of good nature.” “That’s fortunate indeed. If Sister-in-law’s such a fine person, you must let me meet her.” “Oh! You’ll meet her? Though she’s still young enough to be your sister—makes the introduction feel awkward somehow… Well then, come along home with me.” “I’ve come empty-handed today without gifts, but let’s go then… Oh, Big brother—let me carry that load for you.”

“No, no. Between you and me, the measurements for carrying loads are just too different.” Indeed, Wu Dalang stood less than five feet tall. The carrying pole’s load rope had been adjusted to match his stature.—Chatting as they went, the two left the park and walked through town together—yet no one would have taken them for brothers. Those who knew him turned back only to look at Wu Song,

“The tiger-slaying hero,” they whispered as they passed by. “That’s Wu Song.” “Hey now, Wu Song,” said Wu Dalang. “I’d heard the rumors about some hero, but never imagined it was my own brother! Jinlian will be overjoyed when she hears. Makes me proud too.” In no time, Wu Dalang found himself looking at his own house. The backstreet saw few passersby. A stone bridge spanning a moat showed through withered willows, with a teahouse at the corner—Wu Dalang’s home stood just north of Granny Wang’s establishment. He approached a thick reed screen hanging over the entrance.

“Wife! I’ve brought a guest back! Look—I’ve brought back a real rare guest here!”

When he called out from outside, footsteps went *ton-ton-ton* as if descending from the second floor. At the same moment, a pale feminine arm lifted the reed screen from within with a swish,

“Oh… welcome back. My, what guest have you brought?” With a charming smile spilling outward—whether it was Jinlian’s bright eyes glancing fleetingly toward Wu Song’s figure or her alluring appearance, there was something about her that seemed to bewitch a man in an instant. No wonder Big Brother Wu Dalang had been envied and harassed by the world, driven from his hometown—it was impossible to stay. Abruptly, even Wu Song felt strangely dazzled.

The younger brother who bore no resemblance [to him], and the mismatched older brother and sister-in-law.

Along with Wu Song moving in, “Come now, Brother. Let’s go upstairs—it’s a small home, but no need to hold back here.” Overjoyed at having brought back the brother he had reunited with, Wu Dalang was practically bursting with delight. He promptly and proudly introduced his wife Pan Jinlian as well.

“Hey Jinlian. Look, I’ve been telling you about him all the time—this is that younger brother, Wu Erlang, who’s been away traveling for ages.” “Well. So this is your younger brother.” Jinlian crossed her supple arms like willow branches, bowing in their first meeting as she seemed to glance at Wu Song’s entire figure through the shadow of her thick eyelashes. Wu Song also knelt and lowered his forehead before the silk-laced lovely shoes of this beautiful sister-in-law.

“It is my first time meeting you,” Wu Song said formally. “I heard about Sister-in-law from Brother during my journey. Brother appears truly happy now, and even I—Wu Erlang meeting him after so long—am overjoyed beyond measure. Thus I’ve ended up imposing on you so abruptly.” “Oh please,” Pan Jinlian demurred through a practiced smile, “don’t speak so stiffly. This is Big Brother’s home after all.” Her lashes dipped coquettishly as she gestured toward the stairs. “Do make yourself comfortable.” Wu Dalang puffed his chest beside them. “Jinlian, you’ve heard the tales—the tiger-slayer of Jingyang Ridge stands before you! This Erlang here!”

“Oh? So this popular Chief Constable (Sergeant) of Yanggu County—it’s your younger brother here?” “No, Jinlian. “Because my younger brother killed that tiger back then—the magistrate practically forced him into becoming Chief Constable! Before coming here? He was just a wanderer on the roads.”

“It’s all the same either way, isn’t it? Hohohoho… Hey, Brother-in-law.” Pan Jinlian’s pearl-like teeth spilled forth in a smile. Eyes brimming with charm—or perhaps a kind of bewitchment—was this his sister-in-law? Is this my brother’s wife? It had not yet sunk in for Wu Song. “Erlang. Stay the night here at your ease. I’ll go buy something now and whip up a feast with all I’ve got.”

His brother bustled out. "What the—! You should've just made her your wife!" Wu Song sulked slightly while Jinlian had been doing nothing but gaze at Wu Song.

Even though they were brothers, what a difference there was between them. As for her husband Wu Dalang—stubby at under five feet tall, thick-necked with sparse hair, ridiculed as Qinghe County’s ugliest man—Wu Song’s towering stature and robust muscles made him appear a man among men. There was not a single part of him that resembled his brother Wu Dalang. Pan Jinlian cast an intensely alluring sidelong glance.

“……And where are you staying now, Brother-in-law?” “I’ve only just become Chief Constable, you see. I’m staying alone in the county barracks.” “Well, all alone…” “Soldier life isn’t all that carefree, you know.”

“But aren’t you inconvenienced in all sorts of ways? From now on, please come here anytime and speak your mind freely. Don’t wait for holidays—come whenever you like.” “Sister-in-law must be busy too. Brother is just as you see—an honest man. Since our days in Qinghe County, he’s been slow-witted and lacking cleverness—only good at earning money—and often belittled by society. Truly, Sister-in-law must have it hard indeed. Please look after him—even a brother like that.”

“What a waste—please don’t speak with such formalities. But I truly never imagined that brother could have an admirable younger sibling like you. Brother-in-law—how old are you?”

“Twenty-five. Hahaha—my traveling sandals have worn out before I knew it.”

“So you’re just two years older than me.” As their eyes met fleetingly, Wu Song felt his chest tighten inexplicably.

At that moment, Wu Dalang came up from below the stairs, carrying a basket filled to the brim with fish, vegetables, and meat.

“Jinlian!” “….”

“Look, look! I got all this stuff!” “The whole market crowd was shocked, I tell you.” “‘Mr. Wu Da, what grand occasion calls for this today?’ they asked.” “Oh, you’re hopeless!” Jinlian reverted to her daily sharpness, harshly berating Wu Dalang the moment he appeared. “Why on earth did you bother bringing all this up to the second floor?” “You should’ve left it in the kitchen and asked Granny Wang next door to help with cooking.” “…You see how it is, Brother-in-law.”

That night, Wu Song became thoroughly drunk through his brother and sister-in-law's hospitality. Pan Jinlian's social mediation in particular had been secured. Before becoming Wu Dalang's wife, she had retained the demeanor of a female slave servant (*koshimoto*) kept in Qinghe County's wealthiest household. She knew precisely how to please men. Having declined the couple's persistent urgings of "Stay, stay," Wu Song returned home late at night. When he awoke the next morning and remembered the promise made to his brother and sister-in-law during their drunken conversation, he immediately went to the magistrate's office at the county headquarters to seek Magistrate Shi Wenbin's permission.

“Your Excellency, it was entirely by chance, but in this town, I happened to meet my brother from whom I had long been parted.” “After all sorts of discussions, he kindly suggests that I come stay at his house and commute from there to the office—would that be acceptable?” “You wish to lodge at your elder brother’s house and commute from there?” “Yes, we were raised together from childhood, and my elder brother has always been prone to loneliness.”

“Very well. You may also have your subordinates assist with the move.”

Meanwhile, at Wu Dalang’s house, they were installing a bed and re-pasting wallpaper in a downstairs room, demonstrating an impromptu welcome. When moving day arrived, though the luggage was meager, Wu Song had three soldiers pull handcarts as he came over. The neighbors gaped in astonishment—

“Big brother, I’ll be imposing on you starting today.” “And please give my regards to Sister-in-law as well.”

The lodging differed from an ordinary boarding house. Thinking they would now share one roof, the brothers were joyfully reunited after long separation. Wu Song chose a day to invite neighboring households for tea and snacks, presenting his sister-in-law Jinlian with a satin bolt as a gift. For four or five days, warm harmony prevailed. Once routines stabilized, Wu Dalang daily shouldered his load to sell mantou while Wu Song dutifully commuted to the county office... Yet the humble bun-seller inevitably departed early and returned late. Naturally, within the cramped house there were many moments when only Jinlian and Wu Song remained.

Pan Jinlian began to grow strikingly beautiful. There was something awe-inspiring in the physiology through which a woman’s secret fermented into color and beauty, revealing her ripeness. Her morning and evening makeup and adornments honed this allure, yet beneath her very skin burned a faint flame of passion in her blood, and her lustrous, porcelain-like flesh ceaselessly exuded a thick feminine fragrance—tantalizing as a delicacy—from every pore and inch of alabaster skin.

“…Ah, Sister-in-law. I don’t need hot water to wash my face every morning. I’m a soldier—you’re my host. Just splash it on.” "But I went through all this trouble to draw water for you—Brother-in-law!" “Please save that kindness for Big brother.” “I do it for my husband too. Now then, after you finish your meal—have a cup of tea.” “You’re going through so much trouble… Well, it’s time for the office.”

“But taking care of you makes me happy.” “And come back early too, okay?” “Good idea.” “In the evening, I’ll have something delicious thought up and be waiting for you.”

When he went outside, Wu Song thought to himself, *Well, well*. That sister-in-law’s mixing up her husband with me, her brother-in-law. Her kindness was appreciated, but having every detail attended to with such thoroughness—down to underclothes—morning and night was more than he could bear. In the evening when he returned, it grew worse still. When he bathed, she would come from behind to scrub his back. At times she even prepared wine. “No, Sister-in-law—let’s drink together once Big brother gets back.” “Drinking alone ain’t any fun.”

“No, my husband will be late tonight.” “He said he’d stop by the flour merchant on his way back.” “Brother-in-law… Am I not allowed?” “What do you mean?” “What do I mean? You’re so infuriating!” “Give me your cup.” The crucible of feminine passion she stirred held no meaning for Wu Song. This brother-loving man found sufficient joy in witnessing his elder brother’s domestic peace each dawn and dusk. Thus he restrained his anger—whether facing Jinlian’s wanton allure like a touch-crumbled flower or her willow-tendril sway of seduction. He might pout, but he laughed. Yet the more these exchanges repeated,

“...Really, I can’t take this anymore. I think I’m going to lose my mind!” Alone and restless, Jinlian scratched at her roots with a hairpin as her emotions only grew more uncontrollable. That day happened to be one of heavy snow since morning—Jinlian had resolved that today was the day to vent her piled-up feelings.

She had sent her husband Wu Dalang out to sell mantou again today and even deliberately assigned him two or three errands to ensure he’d return late. After noon passed, she had Granny Wang from the neighboring house assist her in preparing rich soups, grilled meats, and stewed dishes, then made sure to warm Wu Song’s room until it glowed with heat from the fire. “Ah… It’s really coming down.” “What a quiet snow-filled noon.” “It’s just like midnight.”

And so, she waited intently for Wu Song’s return. That day was the military festival, and she knew that Wu Song would return home for half a day. Amidst the swirling snow, he eventually returned with a red face. And on such a day, it seemed he had assumed that his brother would likely take a break from selling mantou,

“Big brother, what a heavy snow.” “I’ve brought a souvenir boxed meal.” “Let’s have a drink.”

Brushing the snow off the reed screen, he called out as soon as he entered the house. However, his brother was nowhere to be seen, and the only one who came out was his ever-solicitous sister-in-law Jinlian. “Huh… If he’s not here, I could’ve been drinking with the soldiers at the barracks.” Wu Song suddenly fell silent. Jinlian, on the contrary, became even more diligent. With her ulterior motives, she had polished herself to perfection, from the rouge on her earlobes to the tips of her nails.

The snowlight outside the window glowed luxuriantly, while inside, the hearth blazed with a fierce purple-gold flame. While Wu Song removed his uniform and relaxed, she locked the back door and even took the key off the front door. Like midnight, the food and wine were laid out before they knew it. Wu Song watched without uttering a word. “What’s the matter, Brother-in-law? “Oh, don’t go making such a face! “…Won’t you be kind to me once in a while, the way you are to Big brother?”

“No—when there’s no one to talk to, this Wu Er ends up making this sort of face.” “It’s not Sister-in-law’s fault at all.” “Then take your cup.” “And pour for me too.”

“As for pouring—I’ll pour,” “But I’ve had enough already.” “Drank my fill at the military festival with the soldiers.” “Oh, nothing but lies!” “Didn’t you come in saying ‘Let’s drink with Big brother’?” “Enough stubbornness—I’ve had it too!” Jinlian poured three, four cups for herself. Today was the day she would confront him—though she had kept this resolve hidden, she still needed courage. She grew frustrated with herself. She wanted to cry. The frenzied wings of desire raging within her threatened to drive her mad.

“Brother-in-law! I won’t let you refuse! You hate it…my serving you…. Ah—it’s spilling!” “You’re acting strange today, Sister-in-law.” “You know it—that’s why…Look into my eyes—my eyes.”

“Ah—reckless! You shouldn’t drink so much, Sister-in-law.”

“Then help me, please. …I’m glad… you drank it. Another one. No… Unseal that first.” She dragged her chair closer and sank onto Wu Song’s lap. Her pale hands pulled at his broad shoulder—hair fragrant and clinging—as she pressed against him, clawing sweetly at his chest. Her movements flowed like a witch’s. Crimson lips tilted upward like poppy petals, gasping wordlessly. I can’t take this anymore…! I can’t take this anymore…! She writhed, tormented by desires even she couldn’t contain.

“Ah… Wh-what’s wrong with you, Sister-in-law? Are you in pain?” “It’s painful… Don’t you get it? …Hold me… hold me already!” “Like this?” “More… tighter. Just strangle me to death already!”

“So—this is how you want me to do it for you?”

Wu Song stood up abruptly still holding her. With a shriek—Pan Jinlian’s limbs and hem traced the fluttering of a butterfly near the ceiling. This was because she had been hoisted high by Wu Song’s hands.

“Enough of this shit!” “You damn woman slave!” At that very moment, beneath the doorway of the room came a wet slap like a soaked rag being thrown down. Just as it seemed she might stay fallen, she sprang back up. She didn’t cry. She didn’t grimace in pain. Her crimson eye makeup cracked as she glared at Wu Song and hurled her resentful voice. “How dare you humiliate me like this.” “What the hell!” “There’s nothing strange about a woman loving a man!” “It’s the man who doesn’t understand—he’s the real cripple or blockhead! There’s something wrong with you!”

Even so, her anger showed no signs of subsiding, and she took another step closer to Wu Song's detached face that stared coldly back at her,

“Brother-in-law, you’d better remember this. After someone was so kind… I… even forgot myself and doted on you, and yet you’ve done this terrible thing to me! I won’t do anything for you anymore—fine!” As soon as she opened the back door, she left with a sharp gust of wind and headed off to the kitchen.

In the lingering hush, the snowy twilight descended.

Around lamp-lighting time, Wu Dalang returned home, hunched against the snow. Hearing the noise, Pan Jinlian immediately ran to the entrance and, upon seeing her husband, pretended to cry. After shuffling to the storage shed to put away business tools and returning, Wu Dalang immediately asked. "What’s wrong, Jinlian? Did you have a fight with my brother or something?" "Yes. It’s because you care too much about your brother." "There’s never been anything as mortifying as today."

“Stop it. He might have a sharp tongue, but his heart’s in the right place. He’s a good brother.” “Oh? Would a good brother act so strangely toward his sister-in-law? He’s truly mocking me!”

“What did Wu Er do?” “I can’t say... It’s too shameful.” “Just look at my hair!” “Since you came back when you did, I didn’t have to suffer any lewd behavior—so I suppose that’s fine enough.”

Wu Dalang also seemed disturbed by this. His face clouded slightly, but he immediately smiled.

It was the barracks festival. He must have just made a joke in the heat of drunkenness after returning home. He knew his brother loved to drink.

“Jinlian.” “Is Wu Er in the room?”

“That’s enough. He seems to be sulking in bed, so...” “Then I’ll leave him be for now… By tomorrow, he’ll surely be scratching his head and apologizing.” “You should quit sulking like this forever too.” “Hey, we’re brothers who’ve finally settled under one roof.” “For my sake, forgive him.”

That night, Wu Dalang was caressed by his wife’s arms. It was beneath a thickly snow-laden roof. The timid and kind-hearted man found himself drenched for the first time in a frenzied blaze and amorous fluids that surged unwittingly from Pan Jinlian’s pale skin—her serpentine lust leaving him inwardly astonished—and moreover, as Pan Jinlian’s unrestrained wanton cries and brazenly wild antics grew so excessive, he trembled inwardly, fearing his brother downstairs might hear them. And so, Wu Dalang—more exhausted than ever—overslept. Pan Jinlian too offered no complaints this singular morning. When he finally rose and went downstairs, Pan Jinlian sat alone, giggling to herself.

“You—he’s taken off, that one.” “Huh? You’re saying Wu Er isn’t here? Oh? He’s late this morning. He must’ve already left for the office.” “But hey! Look here. The luggage in the room’s been bundled up! He must feel awkward after all. He can’t face you anymore.”

While they were speaking, three soldiers came to collect the luggage on Wu Song’s behalf. It was merely a message stating that he wished to change lodgings due to circumstances. Due to the unrelenting heavy snow that day as well, Wu Dalang unusually took a day off from selling steamed buns but remained in a dazed, listless state throughout the day.

Within the ulterior motives behind the Harmony Soup sold next door lay the essence of a poppy flower that rustled even the bamboo curtain. Among his fellow soldiers, Chief Constable (squad leader) Wu Song remained immensely popular. He never put on airs. He refused to bind them with endless regulations. He understood. "Chief Constable, the Magistrate summons you."

“Me? … Well, well—maybe that fight you lot had at the tavern the other day got found out.” “Another black mark against me.” Before long, he stood upright in the Magistrate’s office.

“Please have a seat,” said the Magistrate with composed ease. He then retrieved a document along with an already prepared official order from the public document box and commanded Wu Song.

“It will be quite an ordeal, but I want you to take a small squad of soldiers and make haste to Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital.” “You just need to deliver this official document to the Dianshuai Fu.” “And, as another errand, I want you to deliver one trunk of valuables to my relative’s house.” “When do we depart?” “Depart the day after tomorrow.” “After all, it’s a distant journey, and as you know, bandits are frequently reported in the mountains and rivers along the way.” “So, since I’m placing my trust in you, I’m counting on you to handle this properly.”

“Since you’ve placed your trust in me, I can’t refuse.” “Understood.”

The next day.

Wu Song had gone out to scour the town for travel supplies. He carried ample travel funds in his pocket. Things his brother liked kept catching his eye everywhere. He had not set foot in his brother’s house since then. Thinking back, it had been over forty days of neglect. Speaking of Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital—even at best speed it would take over two months; should the weather prove uncooperative, three months would be spent on the road.

“Right. Since that incident, things had remained awkward between us. I’ll take some wine along, spend the night making amends, and then leave. Even a sister-in-law like her was, to my brother, an important wife he was satisfied with. As long as I’m the one to give in, that’s all that matters.”

He bought wine and meat, cradling them in one arm, and carried two or three souvenirs likely to please his sister-in-law. For the first time in ages, he peered through the reed curtain next to the tea shop on Purple Stone Street. “Oh, Brother-in-law!” “What on earth is the matter?” “Sister-in-law, I must apologize for what happened before.” “No matter how much I’d had to drink…”

“Enough about that old business.” “Oh do come upstairs~” “My husband should return any moment.” “Then I’ll wait.” “Sister-in-law, this is just a small token.” “Oh, even for me?” “How terribly kind of you~” “My my—so much meat and wine!”

Pan Jinlian had completely misread the situation. This was a common psychological tendency among women. She had interpreted Wu Song’s awkward visit through self-serving logic—as proof he still carried a torch for her. Of course, if anyone nursed lingering feelings here, she was the one overflowing with them. After ushering Wu Song upstairs and withdrawing, Pan Jinlian scurried to the vanity. She gathered her hair, smoothed perfumed oil through it, meticulously applied cosmetics and changed into lavish robes before returning upstairs.

“Brother-in-law, look at this.” “This outfit was tailored from the satin you gave me.” “How does it suit me?” Striking a pose, she turned sideways, revealed her back, then quietly circled Wu Song’s chair. Though he had learned caution from their prior encounter, her seductive allure defied description—like a spider patiently binding its prey in silken threads before relishing the feast. Wu Song grew heavy-hearted at the thought of her antics resuming. He sat rigidly still. Soon his brother Wu Dalang returned home, overjoyed beyond measure.

“Oh, Wu Er! You finally came! You really came! What kept you all this time?” “Big brother, truth is... I came to bid farewell. Though it’ll only be two or three months.” “Huh? You’re going somewhere far?” “Official business—to Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital. I’ll return soon enough, but... I’ve been weighing on your mind lately, haven’t I? That’s been troubling me about this trip. Please forgive me for what happened before.”

Wu Song apologized to his brother and lowered his head—a gesture he needn’t have made—to avoid offending his sister-in-law. Even Pan Jinlian appeared somewhat moved. Downstairs, their neighbor Granny Wang announced that the meal was ready. Sake cups and plates were promptly laid out. Under the guise of a farewell toast, the three amiably shared drinks that night—until... “Now, Big brother. “Sister-in-law, since you’re here too, listen carefully to what I say.”

Wu Song was uncharacteristically solemn. Facing his brother and sister-in-law directly like this was a first for him. “Even back in our hometown of Qinghe County it was the same—here in this town too, those brats who belittle you, Big brother, are starting to make their voices heard.” “Calling you a two-faced bun peddler or some ragged Confucian scholar—they don’t hold back any decent insults.” “Every time I catch wind of it, damn it, I get furious.” “To me, you’re my one and only blood brother after all...” “But unlike me—a ruffian—when it comes to Big brother here, he’s a born softhearted soul.” “Even when society grinds him down, he doesn’t know how to grind back.” “That’s also what makes you admirable, you know.” “But listen, Big brother.”

Wu Song felt his eyelids grow hot at the sound of his own voice. Brother Wu Dalang lowered his head——. Pan Jinlian watched with a sidelong glance, as though she couldn’t tell which was the elder brother and which the younger. “As long as this Wu Song remains in town, things are fine, but once I’m away—even for a hundred days—that becomes a source of worry for this younger brother.” “Please, during my absence, be careful not to get taken in by people’s tricks or let yourself be used as a pawn... And you too, Sister-in-law.” “I humbly ask this of you!” “They say marriage spans two lifetimes—so even though he’s such a brother, take good care of your husband here.” “They’re saying you’re a sniveling husband who’s utterly henpecked by his wife.” “Hey, Sister-in-law—even if it’s just for appearances’ sake—show some respect to your husband there and try to live harmoniously, won’t you?”

Realizing the wind had shifted against her, Pan Jinlian flushed crimson around her ears as she sharply turned away, then suddenly fished a handkerchief from her sleeve and flung it before her husband Wu Dalang.

“You.” “Then blow your nose or something—how unsightly.” “You’re spilling snot and tears all over the place.” “…That’s why even I’m always being put down by Brother-in-law as if I’m some wicked woman or monster.” Wu Song stood up, seizing the moment. And leaving a portion of the money he had set aside for travel expenses on the table, “Sister-in-law, think of this as payment for the lodging you’ve provided me recently and keep it.” “And during my absence, try to make Big brother’s work easier and make sure he comes home early every evening.” “In the evenings, have a nightcap together or something—anyway, just make sure to spend each day peacefully and in good spirits.” “I know I’m being repetitive, but I ask this of you.…… Ha ha ha ha! Somehow I ended up sounding like a matchmaker’s spiel.” “Well then, Big brother, I’m off.”

Wu Song descended the stairs. Wu Dalang also followed. At that moment too, Wu Song said once more in a low voice: “Big brother, don’t forget what I told you tonight.” “Uh-huh, uh-huh…”

When his younger brother’s figure disappeared from sight, Wu Dalang broke down in tears under the eaves. When he returned upstairs with that tear-streaked face, Pan Jinlian cackled. She was gulping down the remaining wine alone. Not only that, but she thumped her elbow on the table, rested her cheek on her hand, and muttered pointedly while staring at her husband’s tear-streaked face.

“Ugh! ‘Husband and wife for two lifetimes’? I’d be sick of you in half of one!” The next day, Wu Song departed from the county seat and journeyed toward Tokyo’s distant skies, but for his brother Wu Dalang—the bun seller who had been his constant worry—there appeared no favorable change whatsoever thereafter.

“Oh, you. What on earth are you doing back from work already while the sun’s still up?”

“Because my younger brother said so.” “‘Big brother—during my absence—make sure you come home early every day,’ he said.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” “For someone barely scraping by as a bun seller, you sure put on airs.” “Could there even be such a spineless husband?” “Tch! You dim-witted, shabby freeloader—go do whatever you want!”

“Did you buy the evening wine? Hey Jinlian, what’re you sulking about?” “The wine? Who do you think earned that money?” “Didn’t my younger brother give us money before leaving?” “You think that paltry sum lasts forever? It’s long gone paying off neighbors. Come home this early tomorrow and I’ll stop feeding you—see if I care…”

The snowy mantle of distant mountains had begun to melt, and in this small basin town of Yanggu County, spring’s arrival was beginning to stir. That which had nowhere to direct its solitary bud lurked only within Pan Jinlian’s body.

Pan Jinlian had gone out to the entrance that day, holding a bamboo pole with a forked tip—a tool used to adjust reed screens. One side of the reed screen on the eaves had been blown loose by the wind, so she was rehanging it. Perhaps the nails on the eaves had rotted from the winter snow—for while she was hanging one side, the other fell with a clatter. "Ah!" Pan Jinlian staggered back to avoid the screen. And then—there was someone behind her. A passerby from the street, it seemed. The man lightly said, "Ah! Careful there," supporting Pan Jinlian's body, and then—exchanging a glance—they grinned for no reason.

“I’m sorry. What a clumsy blunder. …You didn’t step on your shoes by any chance?” “No, nothing of note.”

The man wore a fashionable headscarf favored by dandies and appeared to be around thirty-four or thirty-five. He was a plump, fair-skinned gentlemanly figure.

A mere chance encounter. Before any further words could be exchanged, the man walked past and then glanced back over his shoulder. Then Pan Jinlian was also looking back.

The man seemed to have a sudden thought. Abruptly angling his footsteps diagonally, he ducked into the teashop immediately adjacent to Pan Jinlian's house.

“My, what a rare sight! What strange wind blows you here today?”

Granny Wang of the teashop was not one to let an opportunity slip by. He was not the sort of master who would often deign to sit on the benches of such a humble teashop. Along the avenue of Yanggu County lined with pagoda trees, there stood out conspicuously an herbal medicine wholesaler. It was said to be an old-established firm, the wealthiest in Yanggu County. The man was the owner of that herbal medicine shop; his given name was Qing, and his surname was the rare two-character one of Ximen. This Ximen Qing was somewhat handsome. Moreover, he held considerable sway among the county officials. Such was the sway of his wealth and influence that no one in town could pass by his figure without bowing slightly. To someone like Granny Wang of the teashop, he must have appeared all the more like a crane among chickens.

“Granny, there’s something I want to ask—a rather delicate matter… Won’t you lend me your ear?” “No, Master—these cobweb-like ears of mine could never be brought close to your noble presence.”

“What—you think I’m trying to woo you? …Just now I glimpsed someone at the entrance—there’s a stunning beauty living next door, isn’t there?” “My, what sharp eyes you have.” “Did you see her?” “That one—she must have a husband, I suppose.” “Ah yes—and isn’t it pitiful? To possess such delicate beauty yet…” “Now why would that be pitiful?” “But Master—of all people! Isn’t that the wife of Wu Da—that bun seller from Usano?”

“Huh?! Really? Heh heh heh… No—seriously now, Granny?” “A married couple moved here from Qinghe County just last year.” “The world’s full of mismatched pairs, but one like Wu Da and Jinlian—what cursed fate could’ve made that? Even the matchmaking gods play cruel tricks sometimes.” “…Oh, Granny.” “Brew me a proper cup of plum-blossom tea.” “Better than your usual swill.”

“Oh my, I do apologize.” “I’ve done nothing but chatter away.”

When Granny Wang returned from the back with the plum-blossom tea set on a tray, Ximen Qing—who had shifted his bench slightly out under the eaves—was intently looking up at the second floor next door.

“...Master. ...If I may, Master. Does it suit your palate?” “Oh, plum-blossom tea. Hmm—the aroma’s excellent, and the sourness is just right. By the way, Granny, the character for ‘plum’ can also be written as 楳. The character for ‘ume’ also connects to ‘matchmaker,’ I tell you.” “A master is indeed a master. What a clever thing to say. This old woman doesn’t know a thing about scholarly matters, but…” “I’m not here to lecture you on characters. I was likening you to *plum*, I tell you.”

“Oh my, Master—when did you come to know about my little *side ventures*?” “…There’s simply no other way, you see.” “In a humble teashop like this, in such a low-traffic area—honestly, you can’t make ends meet just by selling food and drink.” “In my spare time, I secretly act as a go-between for mistresses, rent out rooms for quick rendezvous—doing such things to earn a little extra money—there’s simply no other way.” “So—though it’s not on the signboard—you’ve got Plum-blossom Tea, Ginger Soup, and that sickly-sweet Harmony Soup here too, I take it?”

“Shall I pour you a nice thick serving of that Harmony Soup as well, Master?” “Granny, you’re sharp—you’ve already figured out what I’m thirsting for.” “At my age, you know. How could someone my age not see through something like that? But Master, whether he’s a simpleton or a fool—a husband’s a flower that’s being watched over. If you think she can be plucked so easily, you’re sorely mistaken, I tell you.”

“Oh—I’ve got urgent business today.” “Patience is crucial when brewing medicinal herbs.” “I’ll be patient—I’m counting on you, I tell ya.” “Oh do wait a moment.” “Money’s scattered even under the bench.” “You haven’t forgotten anything?” “Oh—spilled from my wallet.” “Yeah, bothersome.” “Granny—gather every coin and keep ’em.” “Heavens…!” “My, this much…!”

After a few days had passed, Ximen Qing came again. In fact, from then on, he came every few days without fail. At times, he would visit two or even three times a day. It was a blazing hot infatuation. For Granny Wang, the spring herald bird of unexpected fortune was fluttering right before her eyes.

From the start, this Granny Wang was no ordinary old woman. She was thoroughly versed in neighborhood affairs, knowing everything from each household’s income to the wives’ pasts and even the husbands’ hemorrhoids. Abortions, adulteries, procuring concubines, love hotels—she would take on anything that could supplement her purse. And then came Ximen Qing—no ordinary mark, but a grand prize with money to burn—making this the chance of a lifetime for the old woman. With an air of refusing all other clients, she devoted all her wiles to him alone, addressing him as “Master” over and over.

The five methods for orchestrating affairs. Jinlian blinding her husband’s eyes. Even the steadfast master of an old-established shop could not be relied upon. Days passed like phantoms; nights lacked all reality. Ximen Qing—who until now had been thoroughly honed by the town’s courtesans—found himself utterly undone by Pan Jinlian, whom he had merely glimpsed and desired.

Fully aware that Granny Wang was skillfully exploiting him, he found himself unable to stop visiting. This time, determined that *today would be the day*, he ended up visiting compulsively—even Ximen Qing, who had always prided himself on his prowess in affairs of the heart, now appeared utterly unsteady.

“Granny, how long will you keep me dangling? “I’ve reached the point of wanting to die. “Today I’ll stack up your coffin funds—your pension—right here as promised. “Well? What’s your move?” “Oh my, how generous of you to shower this old woman with such wealth.” “But Master—she remains a husband’s property, you know.” “And when preparing a woman’s compliance, there are these five conditions to consider.” “Ohoho—though lecturing Master on love’s ways is like teaching sutras to Buddha himself...”

“Ah—the ways of love are bottomless.” “This time I’m done for.” “That I—of all people—could become so naive… I’ve been thinking it over and over.”

“That’s it, that’s precisely it, Master! To make a woman fall, first feign innocence—then comes the crucial part: the five conditions I just mentioned. First is timing, second is appearance, third is resources, fourth is money, fifth is having leisure.” “Time and money? I’ve got more than enough.” “As for your appearance—it’s more than sufficient. If I were young, I wouldn’t abandon you for anything.” “If it’s the third condition—resources—then what I have is as much as a donkey’s. No matter what kind of courtesan she is—I’ll make her cry her crocodile tears until she’s begging for mercy!”

“Oh my, how reassuring! But there’s still one more—the most difficult one, you see. Timing—that’s about aligning outcomes and seizing the opportunity for a connection. This is the thing, Masterrr…”

“You still haven’t made any damn progress, have you?” “Even so—a husband remains a husband. Morning and night, that bun-peddling Wu Da clings to Jinlian, whining ‘Jinlian! Jinlian!’ without end.” “Seizing such fleeting chances requires true cunning—no trifling effort or cheap trick, you understand.” “I know all about your ‘efforts.’ “What more do you want now?”

“Actually, Master… It’s difficult to bring this up after so many times.” “Ah—so it’s the expense for your son’s wedding in some other place? I’ll cover whatever you need. I’ll do it—how about that nightingale next door?” “Tomorrow at noon, I’ll quietly steal her from the basket and lure her into my back room—then you can make her sing to your heart’s content.” “Huh? So it’s already settled?” “You’re too hasty—the real preparations are just beginning. Ever since her days as a maid in a wealthy household in Qinghe County, that girl has been skilled with a needle, you see. Taking advantage of that, I’ll say some of my esteemed patrons commissioned me for celebratory garments due to a special occasion—so ‘Miss Jinlian, won’t you come help with the sewing?’ That’s how I plan to approach her…”

“Clever plan. This looks like it’ll turn out well!”

“Then without delay—please deliver several bolts of white damask, colored silk, indigo-dyed pongee with premium cotton lining, along with a calendar and a lavishly wrapped monetary gift for the needlework ceremony, to this place by evening.”

“Good. And it’s tomorrow afternoon, then?” “No—tomorrow you’ll just show your face briefly.” “I’ll arrange the seating artfully and serve a sip of wine.” “Thorough work, I see.” “When eating a fine fruit, one peels even the skin with care—wouldn’t you agree?” “Then for four or five days, exchange polite glances and maybe a word or two.” “And occasionally let your generosity shine through.”

“When’s this going to happen? I won’t sleep a wink waiting!” “Not a damn wink!” “That’s where timing comes in.” “When the boat rocks just right and the tide turns, I’ll spike the wine with a strong aphrodisiac that day and give you the signal.” “Then I’ll slip out to do some shopping.” “The rest hinges on your skill, Master.” “But don’t rush and ruin it—keep pouring drinks back and forth awhile.” “Then test her by dropping your chopsticks.” “No, it’s strategy.” “Pretend to pick them up, then slide your hand under her skirt to touch her thigh… If she yells or gets angry, we’ll have to scrap this plan and start over.”

“Hmm… Does that seem like a real concern?” “A woman’s heart is a fickle thing. There’s no telling how it’ll turn out. Even I don’t know. But before that happens, I’ll leave just you two alone—shut both the back door and front door before stepping out, right? ...If she’s not interested, she’ll surely put up a struggle then. But if she stays despite that, there’s an eighty—no, ninety percent chance things’ll work out. After that, it’s just whether dropping chopsticks leads to pillow-tossing. Ohohoho, Masterrr—if you treat me like some nuisance afterward and cast me aside carelessly once it’s done, divine punishment will strike you down!”

Right next door—in the house just a wall away—such developments had taken shape without his knowledge; Wu Da remained utterly unaware of them even in his wildest dreams. As spring brought longer days，Wu Da’s return home gradually grew later. If he returned early，Jinlian would berate him without hearing a word he said.

“Ah, I’m worn out, Jinlian. Couldn’t I get just half a day off once in a while?” “You’re spouting nonsense. As if! There are still plenty of buns left unsold in the steamer, aren’t there?” “But there’s nothing to be done. The sun’s already set deep, and buns won’t sell at night anyway.”

“You’re napping in the park again instead of working, aren’t you? The other day when all the buns got eaten by dogs, you came home sniveling… And now you want time off? Not a chance!”

“Oh, Jinlian. “You’re in a tipsy mood, aren’t you?” “And what’s this? You’ve got some lovely thread scraps piled up on your back.” “It’s because you’re spineless… I’ve been going there for needlework every day these past five or six days.” “I see… I’m sorry, Jinlian. “Just where exactly is this needlework you’ve been going to?” “The neighbor, Granny Wang. “Granny Wang kindly came and offered it. “Apparently, she was asked to make celebratory garments for some wealthy patron. “And how about earning a little extra cash? “That’s what she said.”

“But serving alcohol is strange, isn’t it? There’s no reason to serve alcohol to needleworkers.”

“What a miser you are.” “Today’s an auspicious day, isn’t it?” “For a wealthy patron’s commission, they hold fabric-cutting celebrations—don’t you know?” “I didn’t…” Wu Dalang’s face darkened as he hung his head. “Listen, Jinlian… Even though I’m a poor earner, saying this might upset you again—but my brother Wu Erlang left me strict warnings too.” “Another holy oracle from your brother, eh?”

“But my brother said to me out of worry, ‘Brother, don’t you forget...’” “The world is a frightening place—even if they belittle you, don’t let yourself be used as someone’s pawn.”

“Who’s being used as a pawn here?” “Who would?” “As for Granny Wang next door… I can’t stand her.”

“It’s not like you’re the one going to do the needlework.” “Hmph—whether you like her or not, you’re just spouting such ordinary nonsense.”

“Jinlian, have mercy on me.” “I’ll stop—I’ll work until nightfall.” “So don’t stay at home.” “You think I’m some kind of rat, don’t you?” “Fine.” “In return, starting tomorrow, make sure to sell an extra steamer basket or two.” “If you dare come back before dark, I won’t let you in.”

At Ichibu Isshū—where Granny Wang next door would repeatedly come—she lingered at the back kitchen entrance and eavesdropped.

Each morning, once she drove Wu Dalang out to work, Jinlian would flutter her wings and hurry to the inner room next door. The white damask, blue gauze, and crimson silk she had begun sewing days earlier lay scattered around her knees and across the floor—already cut and waiting.

“Oh my, how quickly your needle moves!” “I’ve never seen anyone like Miss Jinlian—and I’m not just flattering you.”

“Oh, Granny—don’t praise me so extravagantly! It’s mortifying.” “But it’s truly splendid—not just your needlework! Those fingers move like some exquisite wax sculpture come alive. When I peer close like this, even I want to sink my teeth into this darling nape of yours… No wonder that discerning medicine shop owner lavished such earnest praise on you.”

“Did that person say something about me?” “If only things could go as one wished…” “My, such a thing…” “That master must be lonely too, you know.” “He’s got piles of money but lost his wife and has no children.” “Even with clerks and relatives around,” “He does have such a gentle character though…” “Oh… Granny. Someone’s at the front.” “Oh, it looks like the master is here.” “Speak of the devil.” “……Oh, Master! Welcome.” “No, it’s not the shop—the back keeps us busier.” “I keep telling her to rest, but Miss Jinlian here stays diligently focused on every stitch from dawn till dusk.”

Ximen Qing had changed his attire once again that day. His showy headdress was deep purple, worn like an actor’s, and there was even a faint suggestion of light makeup about him. After handing a considerate gift to the old woman and settling into a chair set slightly apart, he spoke in a grand manner.

“You’ve worked hard, Miss Jinlian.” “There’s no need to rush—you mustn’t harm your health.” “Shall we talk a little?” “No, I enjoy needlework…” Jinlian hunched her shoulders even more with feigned bashfulness, never pausing her needle nor lifting her face. “But… I worry if such clumsy tailoring would please you.”

Granny Wang brought souvenir fruits from the kitchen, accompanied by a pot of tea, to the table there. And then,

“Come now, Miss Jinlian, do join us… While you wet your lips with this, I’ll bring dishes and wine right away,” she said, then promptly left her seat again.

“Oh, Granny. Please don’t trouble yourself so much—it’s just an everyday thing.” “Now, Miss Jinlian. It’s me who wants to drink the wine, you see. Please keep me company. Or do you dislike it?”

“It’s not that I dislike it…” “I’m always imposing on you like this…” “What’s wrong with that? “Some twist of fate—though this old woman has grown weary of teahouse wine—when I come here, somehow I just feel like spending a moment with you.” “My, how cleverly you put things.”

“Ah, how disappointing,” said Ximen Qing. “Do I strike you as that sort of man? Granny—stop preparing the wine. I’ll take my leave today.” “Oh! Have I offended you?” Pan Jinlian flustered, her voice trembling. “What should I do… I’m sorry—I’m so terribly sorry.”

Pan Jinlian, flustered, dragged the half-sewn garment from her lap onto the floor and stood before Ximen Qing.

The pear-selling soldier’s child scattered adults’ secret play into the streets.

Of course, Ximen Qing had no real intention of leaving. It was merely a small attempt to test and catch Jinlian’s “interest.”

Granny Wang had naturally grasped today’s scheme from the start. To ensure success required restraining the man’s impatience while gauging the woman’s receptiveness—such steering of oar and rudder marked a matchmaker’s true skill. “Now now, you both just listen to this old woman,” she coaxed, deftly steering them toward the planned drinking session—a display that made even Ximen Qing acknowledge her formidable reliability. “Master…” As the wine began circulating freely, even Granny’s eyes took on an uncharacteristically alluring glint. “What manner of man are you, Master?”

“What’s this now, Granny?” “Now now, it’s nothing of the sort. Why don’t you offer a cup to Madam here as well?” “But Miss Jinlian looks rather troubled, doesn’t she?” “Oh, you’re being slow on the uptake. She’s embarrassed because she’s with you, Master. Truth be told, she can hold her liquor just fine. Come now, Madam—won’t you accept the cup? How impatient you are!” “It’s like Madam and I are being scolded together! Hahaha. By the way—how old might you be?”

“I’m already twenty-three, you know.” Jinlian finally answered and moistened her lips with the sake cup she had received. “Then I’m nine years your senior. Your needlework is excellent, your etiquette impeccable, your graceful demeanor... That Wu Dalang must be envied.” “Oh, that’s a forbidden word, Master. They say I’ve been so ill-fated in marriage that even hearing the ‘Wu’ from Wu Dalang’s name makes me feel gloomy right away.”

“Well, there are others with similar fates,” Ximen Qing remarked. “My own marital luck has been wretched through and through—so wretched I’d resolved never to take another wife.” “But your wife passed away two years back, didn’t she?” Pan Jinlian countered, her tone laced with feigned concern. “Since you’ve broached the matter yourself, Master, I’ll speak plainly—for the Madam of Ximen Dalang, Yanggu County’s foremost medicinal wholesaler, they say the late wife wasn’t exactly... exemplary.” “A shrew through and through,” Ximen Qing scoffed, swirling his wine cup. “Sickly from the moment she entered my household. Doctors on constant call, medicines stockpiled, retreats to villas—indulging in every extravagance until it killed her.” He leaned back, his voice turning bitter. “I keep dozens of clerks and assistants employed, but that woman left me thoroughly disillusioned with matrimony.”

“But Master… You’ve got plenty of beautiful courtesans stashed away outside, haven’t you? You shouldn’t hide them from me, you know.” “Ah. Are you talking about that female ballad instructor?” “Not just that woman, but there are even rumors that Miss Li Jiao from Xindao is head over heels for you, Master.” “No. No. That’s… Well, she has a brother I got into the official academy and an elderly mother to care for, so I ended up looking after her. But she just keeps apologizing endlessly, and honestly, I don’t visit much anymore.”

“I suppose that’s just how it is. After all, in the pleasure quarters countless dashing men vie for your attention—you’ve got more money than you could ever need—and when it comes to women, your discerning eye leaves no room for compromise. There’s hardly any woman who could possibly meet your standards.”

“But you see, the world doesn’t always go as one wishes.” “Oh? Could it be that even the Master has things that don’t go his way?” “This isn’t just some ballad verse—the one over there who pines for me means little to me, while the one I care for here…” Ximen Qing stole a meaningful glance at Jinlian’s face from the corner of his eye. Jinlian’s skin—already flushed from earlier sips of wine—now bloomed crimson as her namesake lotus flower before she cast her eyes downward. In that momentary void of her gaze, Granny Wang’s and Ximen Qing’s eyes exchanged silent collusion.

“Oh dear, how unfortunate—the sake’s already empty…” “Master, the sake has run out, so I’ll go buy premium wine from the office district.” “In the meantime, even if you find it dull, would you please keep Madam company?” “Alright then, Miss Jinlian, you stay right here, won’t you?”

Seizing her chance, Granny Wang slipped smoothly from her seat. When she left the room, she tied the door handle from outside with a cord. Not stopping there, she crouched down herself and held her breath, intently watching how things unfolded inside.

“Jinlian.” “Well, Madam. How about another?” “There’s still some left in the sake bottle.” “No more, no more.” “My cheeks are burning like this...” “It’s nearly unbearable.” “But you boasted about your drinking capacity.” “Madam,” “Don’t call me ‘Madam’.” “...Why must you make me sad?” “Right, right.” “A forbidden word indeed.” “That meddlesome crone made me squirm too—dragging up my dead wife and every townswoman’s gossip before you.” “Still, I’m just a man barely past thirty.” “These years alone might as well have kept me chaste.” “It’s not true infidelity—you must believe that.”

“But,” “People must think it’s quite something when they see it.” “Even if they saw it that way, there’s no helping it.” “Then how do I look to you, Miss Jinlian?” “…” “I don’t know!…” She shook her head coquettishly. “How could someone like me ever understand your true heart, Master?”

“You’re full of lies.” “You’re not exactly unaware of men yourself.”

“But even if we’re talking about the men I’ve known…” “Oh? Tears? What’s come over you?” “Enough—let’s cast aside these trifles.” “Come now—wipe those tears. Another drink?”

With the edge of his elbow that had tilted the sake flask, Ximen Qing deliberately dropped the ivory chopsticks from the table to the floor.

It was something he had long since been instructed on by Granny Wang as well. “Try dropping the chopsticks on the table—pretend to pick them up—then lightly touch the woman’s leg.” “If she lacks mutual interest, she’ll surely erupt in anger.” “If she lets you do as you please, then all’s secure—proceed to the final step.” In other words—Ximen Qing’s heart pounding—he had gone and attempted it. But faster than he could move, Jinlian’s body—

“...Oh, the chopsticks—”

Immediately moving her chair, she began to bend her delicate slender waist. But with a silent “No need,” Ximen Qing bent even lower than she had. And then he touched his hand under her robe. By then, he had no leisure for hesitation like testing. He himself, with reptilian speed and cunning, was stealing her womanhood. “...Ah.” Jinlian writhed her willow-like waist with a soft “Ahh…”, but there was no sign of her letting out a scream. Keeping her eyelashes deeply closed, she stretched her white throat as far as it would go and merely leaned back in anguish. With cold detachment already, Ximen Qing’s eyes scrutinized everything from the slight flare of her nostrils to her ragged breathing. The confidence he had gained from all the women he had been through now afforded him such composure and cunning that he could first deliberate on how he should covet her or how to savor her.

Jinlian, overcome with anguish, nearly fell from her chair. While cradling her body with one arm, Ximen Qing pressed his lips close—and her dry, fiery lips fiercely devoured his mouth. This was a primal challenge and trembling passion that even a man like Ximen Qing had never before experienced.

“What do you want to do?” “Wh—what?”

“What are you trembling for, Miss Jinlian?” “But…” “But… it’s already…”

“Will you get angry?”

“Why?” “Putting you through this kind of ordeal.” “I don’t know.” “Just… do whatever.” “I won’t hold back.”

Ximen Qing was large in build. Pan Jinlian’s supple limbs were thrown into disarray as though being strangled. Moreover, while the man remained composed and at ease, her fingertips clutched indiscriminately everywhere as if she were a virgin, and her back stretched endlessly as she dragged along the floor. But soon, beneath the man’s chest, she stifled her breath as if it had ceased entirely.—And now, at her pillowless bedside, the land of pleasure had descended, displacing reality. Suddenly, the sobbing of Jinlian’s fleeting soul drove Ximen Qing into a frenzy. Bending her delicate neck deep into the man’s bosom, then arching back to seek his lips with her disheveled black hair, he spitefully refused to grant them. She lost consciousness amidst a scream and gradually relaxed her strength. The man’s lips were finally granted to her, and as though administering a divine elixir, he perpetually nurtured her vitality. Before long, she suddenly revealed a rainbow-like bewitching smile with her wet eyes. As if taking that as a signal of sensuality, Ximen Qing began to handle her body with the ease of folding up a mat. And he laid bare his voracious self even more. In that moment, Pan Jinlian—knowing deep within her body a man who was not Wu Dalang for the first time—let out a scream close to a moan that seemed to give birth to something. It could be called a battle between fragrant sweat and a savage desire to conquer. Ximen Qing’s expectations had far exceeded his anticipations. Unwittingly, even he was utterly exhausted.

“…………” Outside the room, Granny Wang might have left and sneaked back countless times since earlier. At last, even her patience seemed to have worn thin from sheer excess. Feigning two or three coughs, she laid her hand on the door there.

“Ah.” “Granny’s back!”

The man and woman inside flusteredly tidied themselves up before hastily parting ways. When Granny Wang entered, Pan Jinlian—still unable to fully smooth her disheveled hair—sat facing away while repairing her smeared makeup. “My! …How indecent,” Granny Wang theatrically exclaimed, glancing between the two. “To think you’d actually do such a thing! In someone else’s house!” Pan Jinlian rushed to cling to Granny’s chest, “Granny, forgive me! …This was all my fault.”

“Well, how disgraceful! This is just how women are—trying not to pin the blame on the man, eh?” “Granny, keep quiet. What’s done can’t be undone.” “Will you brazen this out too, Master?”

“You know that saying about what’s far yet near?” “From now on, to keep Wu Dalang next door from finding out, we’ll need divine protection first—and your esteemed Granny Wang second.” “I’m counting on you to handle everything discreetly, not just today but going forward.” “If this gets exposed, even this old crone would face charges,” “So in return, Master—you’d better pamper me for life and make that gratitude substantial.” “Understood, understood.” “The thrill of forbidden lovers rivals pufferfish venom.” “Since we’re sneaking around anyway, we can’t hog all the fun ourselves—right?”

“Well then, suppose this old woman has an appetite too. “…Jinlian, you’ve steeled yourself too, haven’t you?” “This isn’t the end of it!” “Yes—well—Granny—since it’s come to this—even I—” “You’re blessed, dear,” said Granny Wang, giving her back a pat. “From now on, let yourself be cherished every chance you get… But even that oaf Wu Dalang will cause trouble if he notices.” “Now, you should head back for today.”

As if hurrying her along, once she had sent Jinlian home through the back door, Granny Wang promptly received a hefty sum of silver from Ximen Qing as her immediate reward. This was no mere flattery—the old woman clicked her tongue in amazement, for Ximen Qing’s prowess with women surpassed even what she had heard.

Ximen Qing returned that day with an oily, self-satisfied face, grinning smugly as if to say, "Now you know my prowess in that field?"

From then on, there was not a day when the mandarin ducks refrained from drenched revelries, making this place their pond of amorous play. Ximen Qing visited with ardent frequency, but rather it was Jinlian who had become truly blind. The dormant flames of her enslaved passions had now inverted into madness, laying bare her true nature as a seductress who would not rest until she had men gasping and their essence consumed. If even a single day passed without Ximen Qing's caresses, she grew so agitated she could neither sit nor stand.

But such clandestine meetings could not endure forever without anyone finding out. Before they knew it, their secret meetings had become whispered conversations among the neighbors, yet the only one unaware was her husband, Wu Dalang… This invited both pitying eyes and bitter smiles from onlookers, breeding rumor upon rumor.

There was a precocious urchin of thirteen or fourteen named Yun Ge, born in Yunzhou to a soldier.

The boy’s father, a soldier from Yunzhou, had been bedridden from battle wounds, leaving his mother’s slender arms to support their meager household—a situation in which the boy himself played a somewhat admirable role by assisting her. This Yun Ge would carry a fruit basket on his head every day, his feet bare, “Want some peaches? Buy a snow pear, Miss!” “Buy a snow pear, Miss!” “Miss!” he would walk around street taverns hawking such things, and when he grew tired, he would set his basket down at a crossroads and call out to the men and women passing by.

One day, he overheard a strange conversation. While peeling away at pear skins, the two customers whispered rumors. When one of them had left, Yun Ge—as if he had been waiting—asked.

“Mister, is it true what the person who just went over there was saying? …that Master Ximen Qing and Wu Dalang’s wife are meeting every day at Granny Wang’s teahouse next door?” “Oh, this kid’s got sharp ears. It’s the truth. The whole world knows—it’s no secret!”

“Then poor Wu Dalang… Should I go and tell Wu Dalang?”

“Enough, enough. Even if you told that dimwit Wu Dalang, it wouldn’t do any good. Instead—hey Yun Ge—you’re a kid, so this works perfectly. Use this as your angle to make money—money!” “Huh… So that could be an angle to make money?” “You bet. From now on, march into Granny Wang’s teahouse like you know nothing. And then… hey, listen close.”

There are people who thrive on intrigue everywhere. Whatever secret he’d been let in on, Yun Ge’s eyes grew round with excitement as he immediately hoisted the fruit basket onto his head and set off. “Mister, if this works out, I’ll bring a whole basket of snow pears to your kitchen for free! I’ll get to show Ma the money and make her happy too.” “Idiot! We’re in the middle of the street. Quit yelling and go already.” “Got it!”

At the edge of Purple Stone Street, with the lightness of his bare feet, it was but a moment.

He looked. Granny Wang of the teahouse was spinning thread on the stool in front of the shop. As for Wu Dalang’s house next door, the reed screens remained as usual—left hanging open. It was a stillness that gave no sign of whether anyone was home or not. “……Hah,” Yun Ge nodded with monkey-like shrewdness.

“Granny, hello there.” “Hey! You tryin’ to startle me, you little brat? What’s with that foghorn voice o’ yours?” “Came to get you to buy some snow pears.—Got some fine apricots today too.” “Come back later!”

“I ain’t talkin’ to you, Granny.” “What’d you say? Then who do you think you’re gonna sell to?”

“To the master inside.”

“Master?” “I want Master Ximen Qing to buy ’em. He’ll buy ’em for sure—basket and all.” “This is no joke, you mangy ape! Where on earth do you think this ‘master’ is? I’ll splash water on you if you keep spouting this nonsense.” “But if he’s here, there’s nothin’ I can do about it! Even if I don’t look it, I’ve got eyes of a hawk and ears of the wind!” “That’s right—you’ve got the looks of one of the Monkey King’s underlings. But if you don’t stop spouting nonsense, I’ll give you a thrashing—so watch yourself.”

“Hmph. If I’m one of the Monkey King’s underlings, then what does that make you? You’re the one running a shady inn!” “You’ve said it now. Yun brat. Just who the hell said such a thing?” “Heaven knows an’ earth knows. Look at that mess! Panicking, aren’t you?”

“I won’t stand for this anymore!” “Master! Master in the back—Granny’s blocking the way! Can’t get through!” “As if he’s here! Where is this ‘person’ you speak of?”

“Then let’s take a look.”

“You mangy mutt!” “Ow! You hit me!” “You think this settles things?” “You thieving little ape!” “Take that! And that!”

“Ow!” “Ow ow ow!” Damn it. No way I’m losing! You failed-to-die trash heap hag!

They grappled, but ultimately he couldn't break Granny Wang's bony body. Not only that—after taking repeated slaps to the face—Yun Ge was shoved into the road where he landed hard on his rear, his fruit basket overturned: a crushing defeat.

“L-look at this! You shitty old hag!” “You shitty old hag!”

Sniffling and sniveling, Yun Ge gathered the pears and apricots that had rolled out across the ground into his basket, and without a backward glance, finally fled that day.

The adulterer’s kicks left Wu Dalang unconscious; the sorceress— concealing arsenic’s poison—wept crocodile tears.

Wu Dalang went out to his usual park and set up his steamed bun steamer shop. It was mid-afternoon. The geese in the pond kept cackling away, yet not a single person glanced toward the steamed buns here.

“Hey, Mr. Wu Dalang! I’m not lying! I’m telling you the truth! And yet you’re still doubting me?”

In his frustration—and because he was long acquainted with Wu Dalang—Yun Ge seemed to have come and spilled everything without restraint. Yet Wu Dalang himself showed no sign of believing it. He kept stubbornly defending Pan Jinlian. After all, how could there be any reason for the esteemed master of the street’s oldest establishment to pursue another man’s wife? He did nothing but laugh at the idea. “Damn it, Wu Dalang—you’re too hasty!” “That’s why folks say it!” “They call you a snot-dripping weakling! —Look here! My face and wrists!”

“Hey, Yun brat.” “So, how’d you get those injuries?”

“Isn’t all of this for your sake, Wu Dalang?” “Right before my eyes today too, in the back of Granny Wang’s place, your wife and Master Ximen Qing were sneaking around and getting cozy, so I told them off, I did.” “…Then that old hag got pissed off, yelling, ‘What’s this about a love nest?’ and suddenly started whacking my head over and over, and in the end—” “That damn hag! I’m so furious I can’t take it anymore!” “So… it’s true?” “Is it completely true?”

“Look at that.” “You’re still going on about that?” “To have your wife stolen and still sit there so calmly—how admirable.” “Mr. Wu Dalang, are you really so great?” “Uh... Uh... Y-you fool... Wh-what should I do?” “Wh-wh-what should I do?”

“Well, look who’s crying again this time around.” “Ain’t gonna do any good even if you cry.”

“It’s humiliating… If what Yun Ge says is true, I’ll hang myself and die.” “J-j-joke, right, Mr. Wu Dalang? If you hang yourself, the ones who’d be happy are that man and woman. Stop that. I’ll help you out, so…” “H-h-how…?” “No matter what, you’ve gotta catch that adulterous woman and her lover in the act. So tomorrow, I’ll tail Ximen Qing as he passes by and let you know, Mr. Wu Dalang. Mr. Wu Dalang—this is the biggest moment of your life! Even if you quit your business, come on—follow right behind me!”

“But Ximen Qing… he’s strong, isn’t he?”

“No matter how strong he is, there’s still the eyes of the neighborhood.” “There’s still the prestige of old shops and a wealthy man’s reputation to consider.” “First I’ll lure Granny Wang out from her shopfront and cling onto her without letting go. Then you, Mr. Wu Dalang, use that moment to rush into the back where the man and woman are holed up and declare in a loud voice that you’ve caught the adulterer!” “Uh-huh, uh-huh.” “...But Yun brat, what should we do about Jinlian?” “No matter what you do, she’s your wife, isn’t she?” “If it were up to me, I’d tie her up and give her a beating—but you can’t do that.”

“I can’t do that.” “I’m too scared.”

“So at least make the man write an apology letter, have him press his thumbprint swearing he’ll never do it again, give the woman two or three good beatings, then take her home and deal with her there—that’d work, right?”

“That’s right.” “Yeah… That’s right.” “……Then tomorrow… will you lend me a hand?”

“Sure thing! You’re the one who can’t chicken out now! By the way, I’m starving.” “Here, eat as many steamed buns as you want. And though it’s not much, I’ll give you half of today’s earnings.”

“Thanks.” “Actually, I wanted some spending money too.” “I’ll take the steamed buns home too.” “I want to feed my mother with them.”

Though he had parted ways with Yun Ge, Wu Dalang was already overwhelmed by that alone. When he dwelled on it, tears spilled and his stomach churned. And so he returned home with a sullen expression—but that night at home, he too feigned nonchalance and did not confront his wife Jinlian. Lately there was none of that sharp-edged gaze about Jinlian that there once had been. No doubt burdened by guilt, her manner toward her husband had shifted subtly. That night too reeked of pretense—

“What’s gotten into you? You’re acting awfully sullen.”

Then, early in the evening, she had already extinguished the lamp and come to lie beside Wu Dalang’s bed—but even Wu Dalang had a sense of smell. He realized that her skin carried the scent of another man, and her lips bore nothing but insincere mucus. “Somehow… I think I’m coming down with a bit of a cold,” he said. “My body feels sluggish…”

And so, feigning sleep, he lay there alone in anguish, drearily waiting only for dawn.

The next day. Even if he had a slight cold, Pan Jinlian would never say, "Please rest." He too, with his own intentions, shouldered his usual steamed bun baskets and briskly left the house. “……Hey, Mr. Wu Dalang. “Ximen Qing’s heading over there.” “Hurry up and follow right behind me!”

It was around noon.

Yun Ge, as promised, waved his hand from the shade of a park tree. Wu Dalang panicked. He closed the shop. To make matters worse, burdened by his load, he staggered along unsteadily. In the blink of an eye, he lost sight of Yun Ge’s figure.

However, he knew the direction. Moreover, since the goal was to catch the lovers in their compromising act, rushing would only prove counterproductive.

On one side was Yun Ge.

Yun Ge watched as Ximen Qing—in his usual actor’s hood and featureless guise—slipped into the back of Granny Wang’s tea shop.

“Tch. “What a slowpoke you are, Mr. Wu Dalang! What are you dawdling for?”

He craned his neck from the shadows, but no matter how long he waited, there was no sign of him. While he lingered like this, a neighborhood dog began barking and lunging at him; unable to stay put, he darted diagonally into the street,

“Hey, old hag! You really put me through hell yesterday, didn’t you?”

He stood blocking the front of the tea shop.

Granny Wang had just come out from the back to the front of the shop. “……Hmph,” she snorted derisively through the wrinkles of her nose—a silent retort meaning, “I won’t bother with a runt like you.” She brought out her usual spinning balls and thread boxes onto the stool and began her handicraft work with an air of earnest diligence.

“Deaf, are you, Matchmaker Granny?” “…………” “I’m not blind, you know!” “…………”

“Hey! Say something! You brothel-running schemer hag!”

Granny Wang stopped her hands. As soon as she calmly rose to her feet, she began walking toward Yun Ge. “Yunbo—you’ve come at last.”

“Ah!”

He tried to flee，but there was no matching the old woman’s hand speed. Suddenly seizing Yun Ge’s collar，she delivered a sharp slap— “Come over here—if you’ve got complaints.”

Suddenly grabbing him by the ear, she tried to drag him forcefully into the narrow alley bordering the neighboring house. Yun Ge was now desperate as well. He plopped down in the street and seized the old woman’s leg. As they wrestled fiercely in a drawn-out stalemate while waiting for Wu Dalang, “Ah! They’re at it!”

Wu Dalang’s voice was close by. As soon as Wu Dalang saw this, he discarded his baskets by the roadside and tried to enter Granny Wang’s house through the back door—but there Granny Wang and Yun Ge were grappling with each other, covered in mud. Moreover, when Granny Wang caught sight of Wu Dalang, she snarled “Kuh!”—baring her teeth like a demon hag—and Wu Dalang utterly lost his nerve, trembling as he staggered about in panicked confusion.

“Idiot! Idiot! Mr. Wu Dalang, this is your chance! Hurry up and barge inside, or they’ll get away!” Urged by the pint-sized Yun Ge, Wu Dalang mustered his courage. From the entrance of the tea shop, he took large strides,

“Bastards! You’re done for! I’ve found the adulterer! Just watch what happens next, you bastards!” With the momentum of a wild boar, he leaped into the gloomy back room. “Ah! That’s my man’s voice!”

“Huh? Wu Dalang?”

The man and woman panicked and flung off the bedcover. Pan Jinlian exposed her white shins and pulled on her undergarments. She tied the sash of her skirt. Ximen Qing, too, lost his composure and, quite unlike himself, ended up crawling under the bed on all fours. “You! Steady your courage now!” “Well, there’s no helping it now.” Pan Jinlian’s trembling lasted only an instant; her next words were fierce, as though denouncing the man’s cowardice. However, before Ximen Qing could reply,

“Ah!” “You hag!” Her hair was grabbed from behind by Wu Dalang’s hand. “What the—what are you doing, you lunatic!” “Who’s the lunatic here? Come on out too, you bastard! Hey, adulterer!” “What’s this, Wu Dalang?” Ximen Qing’s long body slid smoothly out from under the bed, and with a line like that of a defiant robber, he glared down at Confucian disciple Wu Dalang.

“Shut up,” said Ximen Qing. “We can settle this quietly.” “You bastard!” Wu Dalang stammered. “Y-you’re the one who stole someone’s wife—” “So I did,” Ximen Qing sneered. “What of it? Only a fool lets himself get cuckolded!” “Write an apology letter!” Wu Dalang demanded. “What... What are you laughing at?!”

Wu Dalang, burning with humiliation, seized Ximen Qing by the collar. However, he could barely reach him—the opponent was tall while he himself was short. “Take that! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Ximen Qing shook him off with a single shake. With a thud, one of them landed hard on his rear beneath the creaking roof. And as he tried to get up again, Ximen Qing—as if demonstrating his signature leg technique—aimed for Wu Dalang’s solar plexus and kicked him sharply away. “Ugh...”

Wu Dalang curled his body into a ball. He wasn't dead but lay stretched out. Ximen Qing shot Pan Jinlian a glance with a grin and swiftly departed through the back gate. In the street, the old woman brushed dirt from her clothes while muttering something. Yun Ge had already vanished like mist or cloud to parts unknown—likely realizing he couldn't prevail.

The commotion must have been witnessed by the whole neighborhood. However, they knew of Ximen Qing's sway and feared the old woman's vengeful curse afterward. The neighbors—who had been exchanging furtive glances and peeking in—instead fell silent as though they themselves had committed a crime.

“What’s wrong, Jinlian? Steady yourself.” “Haven’t you steeled your resolve for this?” Granny Wang took her arm and hauled Wu Dalang—half-alive—by his hands and feet up to the second floor of Jinlian’s neighboring house. Wu Dalang retched up yellowish bile and babbled incoherently through the night. When Ximen Qing learned of Wu Dalang’s pitiful state, he boldly returned after just two days to summon Jinlian from next door. Jinlian scrubbed away all traces of wifely duty and slid into his quarters like a courtesan.—Left behind in the shadowed north window, Wu Dalang lay pillowed yet parched—unable to lift himself for even a sip of tepid water, ribs shattered and body immobilized. When Jinlian finally slunk home under the neighbors’ lamplight, her rouge lay smeared and powder caked in wanton disarray. Wu Dalang ground his teeth until they ached, tears of male humiliation soaking his cheeks as he rasped, “Damn you! Damn you!” At times he blacked out from the pain, trembling lips biting at air—

“……Just you wait. You’ll see… Just you wait… Even if I die, my brother who’s away will come back soon. Ah, while I still draw breath, Wu Erlang—come back to me. Avenge this grudge for me…”

Powerlessly facing the dark ceiling, there were times when he kept shouting alone. When Ximen Qing heard this from Jinlian, he turned pale. “Huh? Is that brother of yours who killed the tiger, Wu Song, about to return soon? Damn… We’ve got to deal with this now—before it’s too late.”

And indeed, there was an unsettled air of urgency.

“Master…” Granny Wang pressed her face close to his ear. “We can’t wait any longer. We must settle on a plan here.” “Even so,” Ximen Qing retorted, “a man like me can’t just elope hand in hand with Jinlian.”

“That’s why I mentioned it to you yesterday, didn’t I? Master, your family runs an apothecary—you must have arsenic there.” “Ah—that?” “If you feed someone poison, lick the plate clean. Just quietly hand a dose to Pan Jinlian—it’s all for you, Master, in your lovesick state. I’ll handle it perfectly.”

There, a dreadful plot had taken shape among the three of them—with Pan Jinlian now part of it. The only one unaware was Wu Dalang. Indeed, he wasn’t given proper food or medicine; Wu Dalang’s eyes were sunken and sallow, his consciousness already far from normal. “You shouldn’t eat anything delicious… Okay?” “Please say it.” “I was truly wrong.” One day, she brought her face close to her husband’s pillow and pretended to sob bitterly.

“Hey, you… forgive me…”

“Th-that… you really mean it?”

“I won’t go next door anymore.” “Didn’t go yesterday either, right?” “Ah... Hearing that made me want to heal faster.” “Jinlian—I... I don’t wanna die.” “I’ll work.” “Work real hard once I’m healed.” “Then even you wouldn’t think ’bout straying.”

“No.” “I was the one who was wrong.” “Hurry up and get better… okay?” “Hey, why don’t you have some medicine?”

She had kept the highly toxic arsenic secretly given by Granny Wang always hidden on her person. However, thinking she couldn’t easily administer it to the suspicious patient, she carefully bided her time. “You need to build up your strength.” When she lavishly gave him delicious food, Wu Dalang conversely took it as proof of Jinlian’s reformation and ate heartily. One night because of this, Wu Dalang began writhing in agony at midnight. Now was the moment—she dissolved the arsenic powder into a bowl and made Wu Dalang drink it. The potent toxin manifested immediately, and Wu Dalang thrashed about wildly in convulsions. As he let out a scream that seemed to echo through the neighborhood, she covered Wu Dalang’s body with a quilt. She wet silk and blocked Wu Da’s nose and mouth.

Night deepened... Though the lamp’s oil had not yet run out, ssss… the flame wailed.

Pan Jinlian, terrified, scampered down the stairs with a patter, called for Granny Wang—this was something they had conspired about beforehand. Granny Wang went up to the second floor alone and, by dawn, had tidied the corpse to make it appear as nothing but a natural death to any observer's eyes.

“Now… This is where the real mountain begins.”

Because there was cause for concern there, Ximen Qing also came early in the morning. When Granny Wang whispered, “Everything went smoothly,” he initially showed relief, but until they safely reduced it to ashes—deceiving the neighbors’ gossip and prying eyes, passing the official autopsy and cremation approvals—he couldn’t say they were truly in the clear.

“Hey Master, the coroner at the office is a man named He Jiushu. I’ve heard he’s terribly sharp when it comes to examining corpses.”

“There, there. If it’s for the office, we can manage anything.” “As for Jiushu, don’t worry.”

“I beg of you,” Granny Wang pressed. “If they discover it there, we won’t even be able to hold a proper funeral.” “What truly frightens me are the neighbors,” Ximen Qing countered. “We must make certain Jinlian performs flawlessly.”

“There will be no oversights. Why not take a look for yourself, then?” Half driven by curiosity and half by unease, Ximen Qing peered through the ladder opening toward the second floor next door. The coffin had already been delivered, and indeed every detail of the Buddhist altar preparations was flawless—not a single oversight remained. Pan Jinlian sat slumped before the altar, her appearance suggesting she had wept herself to exhaustion through the night.

When she glanced back, Ximen Qing hurriedly averted his face and retreated outside without exchanging a word.

In the meantime, the neighbors, alerted by the old woman’s tearful announcement, were already trooping in to offer their condolences.

“Hey there. Wouldn’t you be Master Ximen Dalang? You’re up quite early—where might you be headed at this hour?”

It was the corner of the main street in front of the government office.

“Oh, Mr. Jiushu. Where are you off to?” “Oh, it’s nothing. Since there was a report that Wu Dalang, the steamed bun seller, died of illness last night, I just sent my subordinate to handle it, but I still need to complete the final certification.”

“So you’re the one issuing the certification after all?” “Well, well. You’ve certainly put in the effort.”

“No, it’s simply my duty—there’s nothing more to it.”

“Boss. Why don’t you come along with me for a bit? Truth is, I haven’t even had breakfast yet.” “If it’s breakfast you’re after, the only decent teahouses at this hour are in the pleasure quarters.” “What’s wrong with that? Seeing the morning scenery of the pleasure quarters—” He Jiushu thought, *Hmm?* There was nothing particularly strange about being treated to breakfast, but as they parted, Ximen Qing dropped something heavy into his sleeve with a muttered “...I’m counting on you.” When he opened it later, he found—astonishingly—a sum of money that a mere coroner like him would never see in his lifetime, casually wrapped in tissue paper.

“This reeks...” A sharp intuition had struck him, but Ximen Qing was someone even the government office superiors regarded with deference. It all came down to monetary power—the unspoken authority wielded within those office walls could not be dismissed.

“...It’s risky business—best to bend with those stronger.” “I’ll just wipe my lips clean and pocket this.”

Before long, He Jiushu raised the mourning curtain and entered the incense-filled house. When he went up to the second floor and saw Wu Dalang’s wife Jinlian, she was putting on a show of having cried her eyes swollen as neighbors streamed in one after another to offer condolences. However, years of professional intuition told him, "Aha!" Ximen Qing’s bribe must have been for this.

“...Well then, before encoffinment—it’s standard procedure—allow me to examine the body.” “No—don’t move it. Leave it exactly as it is.”

With practiced hands, as if conducting a material inspection, He Jiushu turned over and examined the corpse’s eyelids, oral cavity, the depths of the nasal passages, abdomen, and back—but then he began pressing his own temples.

“...Ah.” Ah... This... this has gone wrong. Ugh... My chest feels tight. “I can’t take this anymore!”

Then, like an epileptic fit, he collapsed onto the floor and began thrashing.

The neighbors present were shocked. But those truly astonished were Granny Wang and Jinlian. If any residual arsenic poison remained and they were exposed to it, that would spell disaster—this thought made them turn pale for an instant. But as Jiushu writhed and cried out, "Quick—fetch a palanquin or door plank! I need to go home and recuperate!" they frantically enlisted help to send him home. "This morning he left home in such good spirits, and now—" wept Jiushu's wife as she tearfully settled her husband into his sickbed. But once everyone had gone,

“Wife, you’ve done something terrible. Actually, my thrashing around was a feigned illness.”

With that, he cackled and sat up straight.

He told his wife everything. He also took out and showed her the money he had received from Ximen Qing. He then made her listen in detail to his appraisal that “as expected, Wu Dalang did not die of mere illness.” “Well, I can say this now—I’d heard strange rumors from Granny Wang’s neighbors.” “But after all—the other party was Master Ximen Dalang.” “So I refrained from speaking carelessly… I will never lay hands on such money again.”

“Of course I'm shaking too—but even if we don't use the money, if things go south, we'll be suspected.” “Then in that case—” His wife whispered a characteristically meticulous feminine strategy. When He Jiushu heard this— “Brilliant! That's a masterstroke.” “Right—let's do it.” He made his decision instantly. Slapping his knee, he declared, “After all these years together, I never knew you were such a cunning woman!”

Just then, three of his subordinate undertakers arrived. Afterward, Granny Wang entertained them with utmost hospitality, produced fifteen taels of silver, and said, "This is for the Buddha’s offering, so please divide it among the three of you." Her ulterior motive seemed to be to have them manage the autopsy documentation.

“What’s wrong with that?” He Jiushu said casually. “Take what’s given to you.” “As for the autopsy documentation, you lot can handle it instead of me.” “After all, I’m a sudden invalid…”

“What?” “But the government office would consider that a violation.” “Don’t worry about that.” “No matter what—Master Ximen Qing’s got our backs, right?” “He’ll make sure things go our way.”

In this way, the three-day wake passed quickly, and Wu Dalang’s funeral concluded without incident. However, immediately after it was conducted at the cremation ground outside the city walls, He Jiushu quietly came and retrieved a fragment of Wu Dalang’s remains that he had secretly removed beforehand—a fact unknown to anyone in the world.

Of course, Ximen Qing had not noticed to that extent. Once the commotion died down, he once again began lingering in Granny Wang’s back room, indulging in wanton dalliances with Jinlian.—Now, the woman no longer cowered before anyone. Even when evening came, there were no lights of those hastening home. Their clandestine bond grew ever more clandestine through these encounters—“I’ll never let you go,” “I won’t leave.” Even Granny Wang sometimes grew so weary of the absurdity of their shameless sweet talk—the kind where they’d murmur things like, “Why don’t we just stay like this forever?”

When pleasure peaks, melancholy arises—so they say.

Even the flowers of spring had long since rotted away, and a tepid spring breeze began blowing through the streets of Yanggu County. Wu Dalang’s younger brother—Wu Song, also known as Wu Erlang—who had been dispatched by the Magistrate on a mission to the distant capital of Kaifeng, had already begun his return journey and was now nearing the county. But even along the way, Wu Song kept— Hmm… This is strange. …I’ve been having dreams about my brother every single night.

Whether by some premonition or not, driven by an inexplicable restlessness in his chest, he returned to the county town without stopping for anything along the way.

“Well, that was quite an undertaking. You’ve worked hard, you’ve worked hard.” The Magistrate, with evident satisfaction, finished listening to his report and bestowed upon him a silver ingot as a reward, “Take a good, long rest.” With that, he acknowledged the hardships of his long journey.

Rather than considering rest for himself, Wu Song’s sole focus upon returning was to see his brother’s face without delay. As if begrudging even the time to wash off his journey’s grime and change into summer robes, he immediately grabbed souvenirs from the capital and headed straight for Purple Stone Street at the town’s outskirts.

“Oh, isn’t that Chief Constable Wu Song?” “That’s right—it’s Wu Song! He’s back!” “This is trouble!” “Something’s going to happen—it won’t end quietly!”

Those walking along the road, those standing under eaves to see him off—all whispered to one another as if they had spotted a lone black cloud in a corner of the sky heralding a typhoon.

Unaware of all this, Wu Song had already arrived at his brother Wu Dalang’s house with a nostalgia-laden stride. Then, lifting the reed screen of the eaves with one hand, he stepped into the earthen-floored entryway—only to find an altar against the wall bearing a paper spirit tablet inscribed “Spirit Tablet of the Deceased Husband Wu Dalang.” Huh? …Did I come to the wrong house? …

No, that wasn't quite it. "Hmm... Is something wrong with my eyes?"

With the pounding of his heart, a shiver ran to the roots of his hair. As if he had stumbled into an unexpected cave and found himself unconsciously testing the surrounding silence, he shouted toward the back. “Sister-in-law! …Is no one here? It’s me. …I’m Wu Erlang. I’ve just returned from my journey.”

The dead cannot speak; the authorities lack justice. Wu Song, filled with grief and resentment, found himself with no path to seek redress. While Wu Song’s arrival was heard downstairs, upstairs there erupted a panicked commotion. In that instant, her lover Ximen Qing came tumbling down the ladder steps and vanished through Granny Wang’s back door next door. Meanwhile, Jinlian herself frantically mussed her hair with her own hands and scrubbed off her rouge and powder—a shock pitifully mild for the pair who had spent this very day upstairs lost in adulterous delusions.

Yet Pan Jinlian, as though she had just risen from the depths of sorrowful weeping and haggard exhaustion, splendidly transformed herself. And the moment she stepped before Wu Song, “Oh… So it’s you, Erlang? You can’t possibly imagine how long I’ve waited for your return! Oh, what am I to do? I don’t know where to begin…” With that, she burst into loud sobs, shaking her body as if about to collapse in tears—a display of feigned weeping. For a moment, Wu Song accepted her display with sincere earnestness and found his own eyelids growing hot in shared emotion—but

“Well, Sister-in-law. Just crying like this won’t get us anywhere. I just returned from my journey, and before anything else, I wanted to see my brother—so I came into this house, only to find that altar in the room with the spirit tablet reading ‘Spirit Tablet of the Deceased Husband Wu Dalang.’ Before I knew it, my legs nearly gave way there. In all honesty—has my brother Wu Dalang truly passed away?” “Well… yes. In truth, it was a little over twenty days after you departed for Kaifeng that…”

“That meek brother of mine. It’s not like he would’ve picked a fight with some street thugs, right?” “While out, perhaps he ate something bad? It began when he suddenly started complaining of chest pain around midnight that day—I was so shocked! For seven or eight days straight, I desperately nursed him without even loosening my sash, giving medicine and praying… but in the end, he passed away right there in his sickbed. Suddenly, I was left all alone, and I didn’t know what to do.”

At that moment, Granny Wang from next door also arrived promptly. Having just heard from Ximen Qing that “Wu Song has returned,” her heart must have pounded like a rapid bell. No doubt she rushed over to shield Jinlian, fearing the younger woman might clumsily leave a trail of evidence to be seized. “Oh, Erlang? You’re back.” “Well, well, you’ve returned safely after all.” “Mr. Wu Dalang’s death was a tragic untimely one, but even the Son of Heaven cannot escape death—when it comes to illness, one can only resign oneself.” “Come now, go ahead and offer at least one stick of incense.” “More than anyone’s offerings, your brother must surely be pleased.”

Pan Jinlian also followed suit,

“Right? Brother-in-law. We truly troubled our neighbor next door with everything from when my husband fell ill through the funeral arrangements. You should properly express your thanks too.” She nodded in agreement. Yet Wu Song still did not seem inclined to offer heartfelt gratitude.

“It all feels like a dream. Something’s off here…?”

“Brother-in-law. What could possibly be so strange?” “But my brother was always so robust. That he’d just drop dead from something like chest pain…”

"But surprisingly, cases where such robust health proves unreliable are commonly seen in the world, you know." "That’s why the monks say—" "Impermanence is swift—human life is like dew, they say." "And where was my brother’s body buried?" "After holding the wake and Buddhist memorial services for three days and three nights, we had him cremated properly." "And how many days has it been as of today?"

“In two more days, it will be exactly the end of the 49-day mourning period.” “Brother-in-law—for you to return just before it ends… Well, there’s no fighting fate now.”

“Well, I’ll return properly another time.” “I didn’t know anything about this situation.”

Wu Song, still half-dazed, abruptly flew out the door.

It was only after being buffeted by the wind outside that he somewhat regained his composure.

He was already calm. Upon returning to the county office’s private residence, he changed into a white mourning robe, fastened a hemp rope belt around his waist, and secreted a single sharp dagger within his inner garments.

“Hey, attendant, come with me.”

Upon stepping out into the street once more, he had his attendant purchase vegetables, grains, offerings, incense, and other such items along the way. Carrying these, he visited his deceased brother’s house again in the evening. “Sister-in-law, tonight—as your brother-in-law’s sponsor—allow me to perform the memorial service.”

And with that, he planted himself in front of the altar. Then he ordered the attendant he had brought along to prepare vegetarian dishes and rice dumplings, first offering them at the altar before inviting two or three neighbors to partake. Amidst this, Wu Song reseated himself before the Buddhist mortuary tablet and pressed his palms together at his chest—then, as if addressing a living person,

“Brother. “After all I warned you—why did you have to die?!” “You couldn’t have died from mere carelessness or illness!” “If you’re lost in limbo, then haunt me as the spirit you are.” “Even alive, you were a dithering, indecisive brother—now even your death stays unclear! What happened?” “If you suffered some wrongful death without cause, this younger brother will surely avenge you.” “Even through a dream… reveal the truth to Wu Song…”

With that, he poured wine over the mortuary tablet, grasped the paper offerings for the underworld and finished burning them, then let out a wail and broke into loud sobs. It was no wonder the gathered neighbors were filled with dread—here was a man who ordinarily knew no tears, a man who had even slain the ferocious tiger of Jingyang Ridge, now shuddering violently as he wept. Before long, they all furtively rose and left, and Jinlian—who had been pretending to sob along with them in a corner—also vanished, retreating to her own room on the second floor where she eventually lay down.

“…Oh. It’s already the third watch…” "It’s already the third watch…"

Awakened by the midnight drum resounding through the streets, Wu Song abruptly surveyed his surroundings. On the straw mat before the altar, he had been lying sprawled during the wake.

The two attendants, drunk beyond reason, slumped against the garden-facing eaves in disarray. The night deepened endlessly until only the desolate chill of the late Ox Hour pressed against his flesh—that hour when roof beams were said to sag three inches. "Ah... Is my only brother in this world truly gone...?" "...What wretchedness." "Brother, you coward." "Why couldn't you die properly if you meant to die?"

Once again, it was when he muttered through solitary tears.

The hanging paper money flowers rustled against the wall, stirring in the lamplight. Though no wind blew, the lapis lazuli lamp's flame suddenly sputtered as though exhaling ink, its light refusing to regain the flickering clarity of revival no matter how long passed. Eerie and desolate—it seemed some formless thing swirling about the altar wailed like a tormented spirit...

“Ah!” “Big brother!”

Wu Song had indeed seen something. Every hair on his body stood on end as he instinctively lunged to embrace the shadowy figure. But the moment he did, water splashed onto his knees. The flowers in the vase had toppled onto his hand. At the same time, the lapis lazuli lamp's light casually returned to its original glow. He was drenched in sweat. He reconsidered—had it been a dream?

"But even if it had been a dream…?"

He remained standing with his arms folded. The morning light from the kitchen now reflected on his folded arms. He abruptly rose and began washing his face by the water jar. Tap, tap, tap... Immediately, the sound of a woman’s footsteps descended from the second floor right to where he stood. Efficiently gathering a hand towel, a rinse bowl, and other items beside him,

“You must be tired, Brother-in-law. But last night, your brother must surely have been pleased.”

“Oh. Sister-in-law. By the way, Sister-in-law. What really killed my brother?” “Oh my, you’re bringing up the same thing again. We talked about that thoroughly yesterday, didn’t we?” “But even if it was an illness—what medicine did you make him take?” “If it’s about the medicine packets, they’re still around here.” “And who handled the preparations for the coffin—”

“The kind neighbor auntie handled everything from start to finish.” “Surely even the crematory work wasn’t done by that old woman.” “That would be He Jiushu—someone from the government office.” “Otherwise they wouldn’t issue the crematory certificate.”

“I see. That’s exactly how it should be.”

A little less than half a watch had passed since then.

Having arrived at the crossroads of Lion Street where Wu Song dismissed his attendants, he proceeded alone to visit He Jiushu's house.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Chief Constable. You’re here quite early… And when did you return?” “I just got back yesterday and finished reporting to the magistrate. By the way, Jiushu—sorry to trouble you—but could you spare a moment to come with me?” “Certainly. But since it’s been so long—though my place is in disarray—how about some tea first?” “No, let’s save that for another time. Today’s business is a bit of mundane work. You’ll have to come along with me here.”

He Jiushu had already understood in his heart: "So that’s how it is." He went into the back, retrieved the silver he had taken from Ximen Qing and entrusted to his wife beforehand, along with a wrapped piece of bone he had brought back from the crematory, and tucked them into his pocket.

“Ah, my sincerest apologies for keeping you waiting.”

With that, they went out together.

A back-alley tavern in the morning, still without any customers. It appeared to be a tavern that Wu Song frequented regularly. After ordering two or three simple dishes and an ample amount of wine, “Hey, proprietress and apprentice—no need for you today. Don’t come spreading your smiles around here unless you’re called.” Wu Song made this declaration to everyone in the tavern right from the start.

Thus from the very start their seating arrangement became awkward. They poured in silence and received in silence; with no thread of conversation left to grasp even He Jiushu could only drink sullenly. “I must apologize Chief Constable.” “What’s that?” “I’m the one who should’ve invited you for a drink at my place yet here you are going to all this expense.” “This is my business—just drink as much as there is.” Already his tone took on a strangely confrontational edge. However He Jiushu had already anticipated the likely outcome with a “Hmm…” Precisely because of this composed demeanor it conversely strengthened Wu Song’s resolve to prepare himself: This guy won’t spill the truth with simple methods.

“……Oops, it’s all gone.” The triangular flask—holding about 1.8 liters—had been drained completely dry between them. That should do. “Let’s have ourselves a proper talk now, shall we?”

“Chief Constable, is there something you require of me?” “Now listen, Jiushu—if you play dumb, I won’t stand for it!”

Wu Song thrust his hand into his bosom. The thin-bladed dagger he had secretly been carrying was suddenly thrust into the thick plank of the table with a thud.

“……?” “Jiushu—no need t’stare so hard at my face.” Thrusting the white blade toward his jaw—“If y’mean t’answer this steel—spit out th’truth plain ’n clean.”

“Well, well. What an extraordinary greeting, Chief Constable.” “That’s right—after going to the trouble of letting you drink warm wine, I’m about to dump ice on you with what I have to say. But when you’re involved, there’s no helping it.” “Either way—after you’ve eaten your fill of something tasty—a bellyache or the runs is just how things go.” “Heh heh heh.” “It doesn’t suit you, Chief Constable—being so suspicious of people’s motives.” “Instead of all this, why don’t you cut to the chase and just ask me bluntly whether you know the cause of your brother Wu Dalang’s death or not?”

“Ah! So you knew about my brother’s cause of death too—” “Now, Chief Constable, calm yourself and look at this.” He unwrapped a bundle from his robe and laid out a ten-tael silver ingot alongside a piece of burn-brittled human bone—its ash-gray surface mottled with purplish spots. “Ah! This—could it be my brother’s?” “Please listen. This happened on the twenty-second day of the first month. Early that morning, Granny Wang from the tea shop came saying our neighbor Mr. Wu Dalang had died. ‘Do be careful during the autopsy,’ she told me in this strange tone… Suspicious, I sent my subordinate ahead first while I wandered out—only to end up at that unforgettable crossroads on Purple Stone Street.”

“Oh. “And then—” “Then that Ximen Qing—the one they call Ximen Dalang—from the herbal medicine shop in front of the government office, looking like he’d been waiting for me, invited me to a nearby tavern.” “When I went along with him, he pulled out this silver ingot and said, ‘When it comes time for Wu Dalang’s encoffining, keep your lips sealed about everything’—which basically made that silver hush money.” “Heh heh, I saw right through it—but that bastard was a bigwig at the government office.” “So right then and there, I put on my most compliant face and went along with it for the time being.”

“Hmm.” “That Ximen Qing bastard…” “As expected.” “Then I went up to the second floor where they’d laid out the body and started examining Wu Dalang’s corpse—it was clear at a glance this wasn’t any natural death.” “The agony on his face was too gruesome to look at.” “There were clots of vomited blood stuck in his nose and mouth, his whole body mottled purple—I knew right away they’d slipped him a dose of arsenic… That’s why I grabbed my gut and started groaning like I was in pain myself.”

“And what’s the reason for that?”

“As Jiushu here couldn’t issue a death certificate for the burial, I resorted to feigning illness to escape,” he said. “Afterwards, I left matters to my subordinates. Had I voiced suspicions then, Ximen Qing would’ve intervened—my head would’ve rolled, and another coroner would’ve surely covered up the poisoning.” He paused, fingers brushing the bone fragment. “...So I confined myself at home under this desperate pretext. Three days later, I ordered my undertaker subordinate to secretly steal this bone piece as future evidence—that’s how it unfolded.” His eyes met Wu Song’s blade. “...Chief Constable, you must grasp everything now.”

“Ah… I’m sorry.”

Bowing deeply, Wu Song sheathed the dagger into the sheath at his bosom. “...So the culprit is Sister-in-law Jinlian.” “And the neighbor Granny Wang.” “Where did the arsenic come from?” “His trade—the herbal medicine shop.” “The one who made Jinlian do it was likely that man.”

“Is the lover Ximen Qing?” “Hmm, I’ve got it all figured out.” “But still—isn’t there a more solid living witness around?” “As for witnesses—well, everyone under heaven’s a witness, but none dare speak openly of Ximen Qing for fear.” “Ah right—though you mightn’t know—best inquire further with that fruit-peddling lad called Yun Ge.”

Before long, the two left the tavern.

It was a house in the slums, winding from one road to another. Just then, Yun Ge—with an empty fruit basket slung over his shoulder—returned to the corner of his house. Because two strange men were standing there,

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing peeking into someone’s house?” “Oh, it’s Master Jiushu!” “Oh, Yun-boy! You’ve returned at just the right time.” “Do you know this gentleman?” “This is Chief Constable Wu Song!” “Oh! So you’re the one who killed the tiger?” “There’s something important that he wishes to ask you.” “Since you’re a good boy, be honest and tell us everything you know.”

“Ah, that matter, huh?” “You mean that matter?”

“Nah, I don’t know nothin’.” “My old man scolded me—‘A kid like you shouldn’t go sticking your nose into grown-up matters! If you mess up, you’ll end up dragged to court!’” “Don’t be ridiculous.” “Right, right—they say your father’s been ill for a long time and relies on your earnings as his cane and pillar.” “Chief Constable, this kid is very filial.” “I see. Then as a reward for that filial piety, I’ll give you something.” “Kid, put out your hand.”

“Ah!” “This here’s five taels of silver…” “What should I do, Master?” “Keep it.” “If it’s for Yun-boy’s small household, this could sustain you for ten months or a year.”

“Thanks…” Yun Ge was utterly delighted. But being a boy living on the outskirts of town, he immediately grasped what that silver would cost him. “...Alright then—I’ll spill everything—but you old men better not get mad!”

He began to spill everything. It was about fifty days ago now. At the back of Granny Wang’s tea shop—which Master Ximen Qing often frequented—since that day too, Master [Ximen Qing] and Jinlian were having a secret rendezvous there. Someone had persuaded him that if he went there, he could earn some pocket money; promptly hoisting his fruit basket onto his head, he went to see. But then—Granny Wang, who was standing guard at the shopfront, refused to let anyone approach. She treated people like stray dogs or worse—ended up hitting them, even hurled the fruit basket into the street, and looked ready to douse them with water, acting all high and mighty.

"Well, I was frustrated beyond endurance."

“Just you wait…” he said on another day. “I found Wu Dalang—the steamed bun seller I was usually friendly with—in the park and told him outright, ‘Your wife’s having an affair.’”

There, they conspired with Wu Dalang to catch the adulterer and wanton woman in the act and attempted a second assault together, but Granny Wang’s vigilance was strict. “That day too, I was out on the street and got pinned down by that old hag right away. Meanwhile, Wu Dalang apparently managed to rush into the inner room—but later I heard things went sideways. That bastard Ximen Qing kicked him square in the gut, and he passed out like a coward right there…”

In any case, Wu Dalang had taken to his sickbed from then on, and after that day, he no longer went out to sell buns at his usual park spot. “Then they say he died just four or five days later—that’s what people were whispering,” he continued. “Somehow even I started feeling this eerie dread about it all—I’d kept my mouth shut tight till today about that business. But why Mr. Wu died so sudden-like? That part I don’t know a thing about—honest!”

“Good, good. You’ve explained everything thoroughly. There’s no doubt about that.” “Not a bit of a lie!” “Then will you testify exactly like that wherever you’re summoned?”

“Ah, I’ll go and testify—whether it’s in court or anywhere else.”

That day, Wu Song brought Yun Ge and He Jiushu with him, entered the gates of the county office, appeared directly before the magistrate, and lodged a detailed complaint.

This magistrate had long been favorable toward Wu Song. Though appearing greatly surprised, he listened carefully to their testimony. However, after first dismissing the three individuals to a separate room, he promptly summoned the office's department heads and—

“What is to be done?”

and put it to a meeting.

“Well…?” “…” The officials all responded as if they had agreed—a strange, skeptically noncommittal reply. Needless to say, they were all those intimately acquainted with Ximen Qing in both public and private matters. Or rather, it would be better to call it the rotten bond between officials and political merchants. Even the magistrate himself could not be said to be entirely free from involvement in that foul entanglement.

“Your Excellency the Magistrate.”

One person finally reached a conclusion and recommended it.

“First, this matter would be best left uninvestigated.” “At its core, it stems from base passions between a man and woman.” “The deeper you dig, the more troublesome complications will arise.”

“Hmm… I do think it’s a troublesome case, but—”

“Even if this qualifies as a case, it’s merely the death of a bun seller.” “Moreover, it’s common knowledge throughout society that he was a dull-witted man lacking in mental capacity.”

In the end, the Magistrate summoned Wu Song once more and strove to placate him. Of course, Wu Song was dissatisfied. “You say there’s no solid evidence—but look at these two items.” “Even with this, can my brother’s death still be called mere illness?” “Can you still claim it wasn’t poisoning?”

Wu Song presented a fragment of his brother’s bone and a single silver ingot that Ximen Qing had bribed Jiushu with, then slammed the table.

But the Magistrate remained indecisive. He merely prevaricated,

“In any case, I will take custody of these two items and send them to the appraisers for now—but Wu Song, you too must earnestly reconsider this matter and handle it peacefully.”

They forcefully calmed him down and made him leave that day. In short, the lawsuit was dismissed as a mere formality.

Wu Song, having enshrined his deceased brother’s grudge, went to confront a man at Ximen Qing’s shop.

Ximen Qing was filled with dread. Subordinates at the government office had promptly provided him with inside information, and he himself had not relaxed his vigilance in the slightest since the day before. It went without saying that through his orchestrated financial power, he had secretly visited the private residences of various officials under cover of night and taken every possible measure in a single night. Sure enough, the next day in the petition room, even to Wu Song's eyes, the magistrate's demeanor appeared like that of a completely different person than before.

“Wu Song.” “After deliberating all last night, I’ve reached my decision.” “There’s nothing left to deliberate—nothing at all!” “My only hope is to summon Ximen Qing and confront him in court.” “That’s poor judgment.” “Do the sages not say, ‘How can words spoken behind one’s back be trusted?’” “The testimony of a fruit-peddling brat cannot be accepted.” “But what of my brother’s remains—presented by Jiushu—marked with vivid purple spots? How do you view those?”

“Even so, how can that prove it’s Wu Dalang’s remains? Other mortuary workers say you can find plenty of those lying around near crematoriums.”

“Th-that’s absurd!” “Wu Song! Contain yourself.” “However agitated you become, emotions carry no weight in litigation.” “In sum, no judgment can be rendered on a murder accusation without clear evidence of criminal motive, physical evidence from the scene, wounds upon the corpse, the perpetrator’s footprints, and other corroborating testimony—the five essential elements. … Moreover, you yourself were traveling afar and witnessed none of this—is this not all mere conjecture from worthless rabble?”

“You call that conjecture?”

With fierce resolve, Wu Song glared with terrifyingly wide eyes and looked up at the magistrate’s face—but after steadying himself by pressing a hand to his chest, he spoke the rest with an eerily docile demeanor. "I see... Well—if Your Honor states it so definitively, then I guess I have no choice but to reconsider my judgment according to your esteemed opinion." "Thank you for all the trouble." "Ha ha ha! I'll abandon futile efforts and hold my brother's memorial elsewhere."

After handing the rejected silver ingots and remains to He Jiushu, he strode out and withdrew to his soldier’s quarters within the county town. “Hey orderly—serve me a meal.” The voice seethed with suppressed frustration.

And,

“Go on, Yun’er, eat up.” “Jiushu, have a drink.” “Tomorrow marks my brother’s 49th Day.” With that, he too began drinking heavily. Resentment and gloom with no outlet seethed fiercely in the depths of his eyes.

Before long, he left Jiushu and Yun Ge waiting there and brusquely went out. He was accompanied by two or three orderlies. When they reached the town streets, “Buy that. Get this.”

and generously handed out coins. The subordinates purchased brushes, ink, an inkstone, paper, and such at the stationery shop as ordered; at the market, they bought one steamed chicken and a load of wine. They also acquired flowers and incense—and even a whole-boiled pig’s head, deemed the most lavish offering to the gods and buddhas—until their arms overflowed with more than they could carry.

“……Sister-in-law, hello.”

When he stood beneath the eaves of the house, Jinlian’s reply came from the second floor. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me. Wu Song.” “Oh, Brother-in-law? Just wait a moment.” She must have been startled. However, she had long since received word that Wu Song’s appeal had been dismissed, so on that point she felt completely at ease. She merely found it irritating—“What’s he come here for again?”—and needed only a brief moment to steel herself with a defiant resolve: “Fine—I’ll just handle it as it comes.”

And when she came down and looked—

Wu Song was already sitting before the altar. He had soldiers help him offer a pig’s head, light two crimson candles until they glowed red, decorate with paper money and flowers, and burn incense whose smoke rose in twisting tenders—every manner of offering his brother Wu Dalang had loved in life was piled so densely upon the altar that there was scarcely any space left. “Oh, Brother-in-law,” she said, “how filial you are to your elder brother.” “You’ve come bearing offerings for the forty-ninth day.” “Not only that, Sister-in-law. “Since I’ve brought some modest food and drink, today I wish to properly express my gratitude to the neighbors as well.”

“Oh, but I’ve already given my thanks.” “But since I, Chief Constable Wu Song, am his brother, I can’t stay silent about this.” “Isn’t that right—as his younger brother?” “If you’re still unsatisfied, do whatever you like.” “Hey orderly. Bring out large platters and line up wine, fish, fruit, and meat. And you all—go politely invite the neighbors over. I’ll fetch Granny Wang from next door.”

“Brother-in-law, if it’s the neighbor aunt you need, I’ll go and—” “Oh, there’s no need for that. Today I’m the one hosting this memorial as the younger brother.” Then he went over himself to the neighboring house beyond the next fence and said something; before long, he returned practically dragging by the hand an old woman overwhelmed with deference. “Now, considering her seniority and how she’s always helped my brother Wu Da and sister-in-law… Please take a seat beside Sister Jinlian.”

“Brother-in-law… You are the great Chief Constable of the county.” “Even so, how could this old woman presume to sit in the seat of honor?” “This old woman will stay in this corner here...”

“Now now. Just for today, please don’t stand on such ceremony. Now, Sister-in-law, you sit down first… And then—”

With that, Wu Song delivered greetings to all the gathered neighbors and, on behalf of his deceased brother, earnestly expressed gratitude for their past kindness. All of them—Yao Ci the silversmith, Zhao Silang the funeral goods vendor, Hu Zheng the liquor store owner, Old Man Zhang the confectioner—could only stare wide-eyed and sit rigidly. This was because every neighbor knew of Ximen Qing and Jinlian’s illicit affair, and inwardly they all feared how this might end and being dragged into it.

“Now, this is a Buddhist ceremony, but please don’t be so reserved.”

Wu Song himself took charge, offering cups of wine and repeatedly trying to make things more relaxed, but no one joined in or became intoxicated. Before long, Hu Zheng—the former minor official turned liquor store owner—seemed to sense "...This is dangerous," and began to rise from his seat to take his leave. “Thank you, thank you. Today’s been such an unexpected feast. Well, um… Chief Constable, sir, unfortunately I have pressing matters to attend to, so I must humbly take my leave now.”

“What? You’re leaving?” “Well, it’s just that I’m quite tied up with pressing matters.” “Hold it. That won’t do.” Following Hu Zheng’s lead, Zhao Silang the funeral goods vendor also hurriedly stood up. “Oh right—I’d forgotten—I’ve got urgent business too. Chief Constable, sir, I must apologize, but...” “No can do.” “But, actually—”

“Sit!” Wu Song barked in a voice like he used when commanding troops. But he quickly recomposed his face.

“Anyway, since you’ve gone to the trouble of coming, I’ll have you stay until the very end. Hey orderly—serve drinks to everyone here.” “Yes, sir!” The soldiers went around the tables pouring drinks. Before they knew it, the other two soldiers were blocking the back and front exits. No matter how much they were plied with drink, under these circumstances they couldn’t swallow a drop. The cluster of neighbors’ faces—sniffling and wiping tears—could only mechanically raise and lower their cups in empty gestures.

Deeming the time right, Wu Song ordered his subordinates to clear away the wine and dishes from the tables for the time being. And as he himself began wiping the table clean, the entire group of guests, seeing their chance now, all started to rise to leave. “Hold it!” “The real matter has only just begun.” “Well… Esteemed witnesses, who among you can write?”

“……?” Though they did not understand what was happening, their sidelong glances naturally shifted toward Hu Zheng—the former minor official.

“Ah.” “Mr. Hu Zheng of the liquor store.” “It appears you’re the one here who can write.” “I must trouble you to serve as scribe.” Already, one of the soldiers had thrust the prepared brush, ink, and paper before Hu Zheng. No—it was not that which had startled them all.

Instantly, Wu Song’s entire body—swollen with an eerie vigor—drew their eyes. He rolled up both sleeves, yanked out the dagger’s hilt from inside his robe, and snapped its scabbard collar with a sharp click—all in less than an instant. His left simian arm grasped his sister-in-law Jinlian by the collar, while his right hand pointed toward Granny Wang.

“Everyone…” “Please stay exactly as you are.” “I will absolutely, absolutely never cause you all any trouble.” “Wu Song merely intends to repay an enemy with an enemy and offer you all a demonstration.” “If you would kindly serve as witnesses, that would be more than sufficient.” “Please remain quiet.” “Hey! Granny Wang!” Wu Song fixed a piercing glare—the very glare said to have paralyzed even the tiger of Jingyang Ridge.

“You really exploited being neighbors to hatch all your schemes.” “As for my brother’s wrongful death—trace it back, and it’s all you damned hags’ doing.” “Just watch—I’ll make you cough up every truth.” His massive eyes instantly shifted to coldly fixate on Jinlian’s trembling form. “There.” “Putting on that innocent act—like you wouldn’t hurt a fly—you scheming bitch Pan Jinlian.” “You mocked my brother relentlessly, then fed him arsenic to kill him—didn’t you?”

“Tch… Let go of me, you lunatic!” “What the hell!” “How scandalous!” “Don’t mock me.” “Poisonous woman, lewd woman, sorceress—no words suffice.” “Come—before my brother’s spirit, confess everything.” “Ridiculous! What would you have me confess?” “Do you truly believe he was some paragon of virtue?” “Why not ask the whole world?” “What woman could endure being wed to that weakling?”

“You said it.” With a thud, the dagger plunged into the floor. Wu Song’s foot abruptly kicked the table far away. His left hand gripped Jinlian’s black hair and would not let go. Jinlian gasped... and arched her body into a bow shape. For Wu Song’s single arm had effortlessly lifted her up. With a thud, her body was slammed down before the altar almost at the same instant. Wu Song immediately dropped to one knee and stepped on the area around her solar plexus. Then, with his right hand, he took the dagger from the floor and adjusted his grip, this time pointing the tip of its blade at Granny Wang’s ashen face as he spoke.

“Hag.” “Why don’t you try to run?”

“N-n-no way… There’s no way I could escape!” “Well, I mean… Now that it’s come to this…” “Then speak straight. … Mr. Hu Zheng—you’re on scribe duty. Handle the notes.”

The neighbors were all in a state of unconsciousness. Hu Zheng held the brush while trembling violently. After glaring and confirming, Wu Song spoke again: "Come on, ain't ya gonna spill it? Bitch." "What the hell do you want me to say?" "So dramatic." "I don't know anything—I swear!" "Hmph. Hmph." "Drop dead, you wretch!" "You suddenly changed your tune, damn you." "Fine! Later I'll test you inch by inch and half by half!" "...Then let's start by cleaning up those hands of yours." "Hey, Pan Jinlian!"

With the flat of his dagger, Wu Song slapped the woman's cheek two or three times. Pan Jinlian let out a scream. From her struggling against restraint, she grazed the blade herself, slightly staining her chin area a deep pink.

“B-Brother-in-law...” “I’ll talk!” “I’ll talk… so please spare me!” “Come on—use that mouth of yours and speak quickly!”

“B-but… it’s painful.” “There—this’ll fix that.” “Now spit out your filth properly!”

He removed his knee from the woman’s solar plexus, dragged her up, and still pressed the dagger against her eyes. Jinlian appeared half devoid of human consciousness. With her pale eyelids closed, she began to confess—from the beginning of her affair with Ximen Qing, through Granny Wang’s mediation, down to their daily secrets—as if channeling a spirit-possessed shrine maiden, yet as though recounting another’s affairs, one thing after another. “Tch… No backbone at all.” It was Granny Wang who ground her teeth. Granny Wang’s worldly desires and obsessions ran doubly deep. But in the end, Granny Wang, too, had no choice but to confess everything. And thus, the respective confessions of both parties—through Hu Zheng’s transcription—were being recorded verbatim on the spot without omission.

“Right. That’s settled for now.” “Hand that confession record over here.”

Wu Song was meticulous. He made Granny Wang and Jinlian press their thumbprints onto it and even had them write their names. Similarly, as witnesses, he requested the signatures of all the neighbors, folded it, and stored it deep within his clothing.

“Attendant. The altar’s light is out. Bring new oil lamps and offer the wine once more. ……Now, right there.” He dragged Jinlian over, forced her to kneel before the straw mat in front of the altar, then reached out himself to light incense in the burner. And then, when he also lit the paper money at the shrine, the woman seemed to keenly intuit something. “H-help me!”

As she tried to flee,

“Where do you think you’re going?” Wu Song roughly yanked her down. No—she flipped onto her back from the momentum. He stepped over her and pinned both her hands beneath his knees. Then he tore open her chest. The plump breasts that would have made Ximen Qing narrow his eyes swelled visibly for just an instant. The dagger in Wu Song’s reverse grip drew only a single shriek before plunging to the hilt’s base. When the woman’s white shin twitched in final rigidity, Wu Song’s hand already clutched her freshly severed head.

“Big bro! Did you witness it…?” Wu Song placed Jinlian’s head on the altar as an offering. Then, immediately after, he handed it to a subordinate, had them wrap it in cloth, wiped his sword, and—

“Everyone, I apologize for showing you such an outrageous spectacle.” “But you’d best resign yourselves to this as your neighborhood’s misfortune.” “And now, I must go out on another errand. It won’t take even half a day.” “I’ll return shortly, so please do wait and rest upstairs for a while.”

With that remark. The entire group had faces devoid of both spirit and soul. Not a single voice of refusal was raised. Like humans who were mere spiritless shadows, they all silently filed upstairs.

“While you’re at it, guard this sow too.” Granny Wang was also driven upstairs. All windows and doorways on the second floor were securely fastened, and two subordinates were left behind as guards at the staircase.

And then, Wu Song alone, with Jinlian’s head wrapped in cloth tucked under his arm, turned onto Zishi Street and walked nonchalantly down the main thoroughfare before the government office.

Before long, the frontage of a large shop resembling an old establishment came into view among the rows of beautiful willow trees lining one of the bustling streets. With its vermilion and gold-gilded signboards, hired clerks, and the comings and goings of customers, it was unmistakably a medicinal herb shop. Wu Song stepped inside, scanned the area, and seized a clerk by the arm. "Let me see—this is Master Ximen Qing's shop, isn't it? Is the master in?" By Lion Bridge, the lecherous man would meet his violent end,

The greedy old woman would ride the Wooden Donkey bound for hell.

That day, Ximen Qing was out. In fact, he seemed to be neither in the shop nor the back rooms. The clerks relayed this information and trembled before Wu Song's bloodstained appearance. "N-no, certainly not! We would never dare claim he's pretending to be absent." "Earlier, he took a business client and went out to his regular tea house at Lion Bridge for a discussion..."

“For sure.” Wu Song snarled a single word, “I see. If he’s not there, I’ll turn right back around and come here again.” With a sharp turn, he spun around and strode out from the shopfront into the thoroughfare.

Before the bustling main street by Lion Bridge stood a renowned first-class restaurant. Wu Song walked straight in. “Sorry about this. Could you tell me which private room Master Ximen Qing is in?”

“Welcome... Um, are you... with a companion?”

“Ah, right.” “Waitress.” “No need to guide me.” Mistaking someone for a companion, Wu Song overtook the waitress who had come to lead him and went clomp-clomp-clomping up to the front second floor. Through the screen in the left hall at the corridor’s end, a group of guests was visible. Surrounded by several courtesans and maids, two guests were in high spirits, laughing boisterously. “Don’t move!” In one swift motion, Wu Song yanked up the screen and thrust his face forward.

Eek—the courtesans scattered. That was only natural. Clutching a round object that seemed to drip blood under his arm, his eyes—having just met those of Ximen Qing who had whirled around—burned with an indescribable murderous vengeance. “Oh! Wu Song, is it?” “Oh, Ximen Qing. Heh heh heh. What a pathetic way to be startled.” “Wh-what the hell are you doing here?!” “Well now—can’t hide what weighs on your conscience. Look at that pallor of yours.”

“G-go... get out of here.” “If... if you have something to say, I’ll hear you out elsewhere.”

“No, here’s perfect. I brought your favorite little treat.” “There! Bid farewell to this world!” From the bundle under his arm, he seized Pan Jinlian’s severed head by its topknot and hurled it straight at Ximen Qing’s face. “Agh—!” The head cleared Ximen Qing’s hunched shoulder and thudded beside his petrified companion. The guest had long since lost his senses, his legs giving out beneath him. All the women had already fled. Wu Song drew a thin-edged dagger and advanced on Ximen Qing.

“…………” Like a great beast assuming its full combat posture, Ximen Qing slowly rose from his crouch. Seeing Jinlian’s severed head before him, he too had clearly resolved himself for a fight to the death. With a thunderous crash, the table before him hurtled toward Wu Song and collapsed—a product of Ximen Qing’s signature leg-sweep technique. Vessels, wine, and meat fragments scattered like spray from a wave, engulfing Wu Song’s figure in their mist.

And then, without a moment’s pause, he pursued him as he tried to flee, "Grah!"

Wu Song’s dagger appeared to have pierced his spleen. However, in that instant, the tide turned into peril. Ximen Qing twisted his body, and his leg extended to an unforeseeable length like a spear, delivering a kick beneath Wu Song’s jaw. Because of this, Wu Song staggered back about two steps, but “Clever trick!” With that, he repeated the dagger thrust three more times. However, being indoors and hampered by poor footing, Ximen Qing’s kick succeeded once again—his dagger was kicked away, and the blade flew like an icicle over the railing to vanish somewhere.

When Ximen Qing realized his opponent was unarmed, he stopped fearing Wu Song. He grew confident in his leg techniques too. But this proved his fatal error. For Wu Song, bare-handed grappling offered cleaner resolution. However desperately Ximen Qing fought, he could never equal Jingyang Ridge's tiger. The inevitable conclusion emerged after their brief struggle—a single cry from Ximen Qing near the ceiling marked his end.

Wu Song had lifted high the thrashing opponent's body with both hands. And from the railing facing the thoroughfare, "Hah! Take this!" He peered straight down and hurled him down. Feet upward and head downward—truly inverted—this was Ximen Qing's final visage. This outcome stemmed from three causes: first, the vengeance of wrathful spirits; second, the inexorable dictates of human justice; third—needless to say—Wu Song's superhuman might. In any case, as retribution for stealing the forbidden fruit from this demonic garden, his violent death could be said to have been inescapable.

Wu Song immediately grabbed Jinlian’s head and leapt down from the same railing into the thoroughfare. When he looked, Ximen Qing’s body lay stretched out with brain matter oozing from his skull. He picked up the dagger, decapitated Qing, combined Jinlian’s head with it, and held them sideways within his sleeve. Then, amidst the uproarious crowd in the thoroughfare, he dashed away like the wind toward Zishi Street. “...Brother, may you find peace with this.”

An instant later.

Wu Song returned to the home of his deceased brother Wu Dalang, placed two heads—one male, one female—before Wu Dalang’s altar, tears streaming down his face unchecked as he addressed the memorial tablet.

“It was like a dream. From start to finish, all of this might have been preordained matters. But Brother—from today onward, having taken revenge—I’ll clear away everything completely: the altar decorations and all belongings here. Please let your spirit go where it must and rest in peace.”

Then he again went to the attendant and had the people he had confined upstairs called down. “Neighbors, I deeply apologize for causing such unexpected trouble and taking up your time.” “...As you can see, this was a blood feud beyond dispute—I have avenged my brother.” “From this moment forward, I intend to surrender myself to the authorities.”

“…………” The group could only listen, swallowing dryly. It was as if they were in the depths of the earth.

“Therefore, neighbors— “I’ll have Brother’s altar burned out back at once. Though ours was a poor household, please divide everything here among yourselves—every last belonging down to the junk.” “And if you’re called as witnesses after I turn myself in, let those things cover your incidental expenses.” Thus Wu Song personally escorted Granny Wang—whom he’d intentionally spared—and surrendered himself at the county tribunal.

The entire town was already in turmoil like a crucible. At the magistrate’s office, they had already learned of the Lion Bridge incident, and since criminal officials had been sent out to various locations, there were no procedural hindrances or investigative complications. On the first day, Granny Wang underwent interrogation first. Granny Wang’s confession aligned perfectly with the “neighbors’ written statements.” With this, the matter was provisionally resolved. On the second day of summonses appeared He Jiusu—chief mortician—and Yun Ge the fruit peddler; thereafter came a steady stream—restaurant maids, Ximen Qing’s family members, and faces from Wu Dalang’s neighborhood—all appearing in succession before the court.

The investigation reports, physical evidence—everything was in order.

Seeing this, the Magistrate secretly, "What a waste of a man." "Ah... isn't there any way?" he thought.

This was Wu Song - the man who had previously undertaken missions to the capital and competently fulfilled my requests. Moreover, Wu Dalang's death that became the root cause of these violent acts, along with all the wicked deeds of that adulterous woman and her paramour, had occurred entirely during Wu Song's absence on his journey.

“Depending on how we phrase the investigative report, it could greatly affect how our superiors form their impressions.” “Would you make some slight adjustments to the wording of the appeal?” He consulted his subordinate officials. Not a single one voiced any dissent.

Unexpectedly, daily sympathies had converged around Wu Song. That even every last prison guard treated him as a “martyr” within those walls made this abundantly clear.

Thus, after approximately one month and some days, “Wu Song, hearken well.”

The Magistrate had him brought out to the court, read aloud all investigation records, and delivered the following judgment. "He who kills a person must face death. "This stands as an unyielding law. "You have slain both man and woman—and word of this has reached every neighboring prefecture. "The sway over public sentiment cannot be disregarded. "...Therefore, your person shall be transferred alongside all evidence and involved parties to Dongping Prefecture's magistrate office, where final judgment will be determined. "So it is settled. Mark this well."

“I am deeply grateful.” Obediently, Wu Song withdrew to prison. The following day, he was loaded into a convict’s cage-cart and transported to Dongping Prefecture. The prefectural magistrate’s office stood superior to the county office. This meant both judicial proceedings and jurisdictional authority resided with the magistrate.

That person was called Chen Wenzhao and had a public reputation as quite a remarkable figure. Upon glancing at the official documents that had been circulated from Yanggu County, "They're here," he muttered to himself.

he muttered to himself. He had already heard about the full scope of the incident and details regarding Wu Song. “Replace Wu Song’s cangue with the lightest possible one.” “Entrust Granny Wang to the Judicial Bureau’s custody and send her down to the death row prison.” Moreover, within a few days, “The late Wu Dalang’s neighbors—He Jiusu, Yun Ge, and others—may each return home now that their testimonies have been established through written statements.” “As for Ximen Qing’s family—detain them in the compound’s holding cells to await the central authorities’ final verdict.”

The judgments flowed forth one after another.

Moreover, Magistrate Chen Wenzhao—while handling such public matters—secretly sent someone to console Wu Song in his prison cell. Wu Song was a righteous man; though his actions constituted an excessively fierce and cruel criminal act, there were aspects of his heart that commanded affection. His sympathy had nearly been revealed to others. Therefore, it went without saying that the appeal he submitted to the Ministry of Justice in the capital—requesting a verdict—was steeped in that very sympathy and leniency. Moreover, in the central government, there were also high-ranking officials on good terms with Chen Wenzhao. Private letters must have been sent to them as well. Eventually, the judgment that was handed down seemed nearly satisfactory to him.

“Is everyone assembled?”

The day of the judgment pronouncement.

The court overflowed with Wu Song, Granny Wang, and all other involved parties. "He Jiusu and Yun Ge the fruit seller"

“Hear, hear.” “You are hereby declared innocent!” “I am deeply grateful.” “However, I shall later deliver admonishments. [...] Furthermore, the neighbors shall face no penalty. “...The same applies to Ximen Qing’s family members, though all people despise the tyranny your master committed during his lifetime.” “Do not make memorial services extravagant; you should focus on performing meritorious acts.” “Yes.” “I shall most prudently ensure it is done exactly so.” “Hold on—the matter of Wu Song—” The entire court fell completely silent.

“Though you have avenged your brother’s death, the grave crime of murder cannot be forgiven. However, considering your voluntary surrender and contrite demeanor—and given the numerous pleas for leniency received at this magistrate’s office and county seat, not merely from neighbors and witnesses but even ordinary citizens of Yanggu County with no personal ties—we hereby reduce the death penalty by one degree through circumstance mitigation. You are sentenced to forty lashes, tattooing, and exile beyond two thousand li from Mengzhou... Receive this judgment with gratitude and humility.”

“Gah...” As Wu Song lowered his head from the cangue, Granny Wang—seated on a coarse mat beside him—stretched out and shouted. “Y-Your Honor! ...Can I also return home, then? You haven’t said anything about me yet!” “Silence! Granny Wang is hereby sentenced to death.”

“Gah... D-death penalty?!” With a wail, the old woman collapsed in tears.

“Stand up.”

The entire assembly withdrew. The Magistrate took his leave with Granny Wang’s screams behind him.

The next day, Granny Wang was once again dragged out from the prison and placed on a contraption known as the Wooden Donkey. It was a platform shaped like a horse. Bound to it, nailed through her hands and feet with four six-inch nails, she was paraded through the streets to the execution grounds. As they dragged it, the prison guards who followed held up placards listing her crimes at the front and funerary flowers as they proceeded. Moreover, as they beat tattered drums and cracked gongs, men, women, and children from all over town clamored to gather around, targeting the criminal atop the Wooden Donkey,

“Don’t you dare be reborn in this world again!” “Don’t become human—become a *horse*!” “If you won’t be a horse, become a pig!” “If you won’t be a pig, then have them make you a rat!” Chanting in unison, they pelted her with pebbles and hurled straw sandals. No one attempted to stop them at all.

Granny Wang, even within the bamboo palisade, wept incessantly as she was beheaded—the time coincided precisely with that moment. Meanwhile, Wu Song was outside the rear gate of the magistrate’s office, receiving forty strikes of the "green bamboo beating" upon his back. However, even the jailers and prison guards held secret goodwill toward him, so none struck him with blows harsh enough to pierce through any pretense of cruelty.

However, there was no escaping the tattoos. The thin iron cangue was likewise secured into the neck ring as decreed.

“Well then, shall we depart?”

Two minor officials holding the exile documents would now escort him to the distant penal colony in Mengzhou.

When they left the magistrate’s office gate, people who had been waiting for Wu Song lined the roadside, all seeming to bid farewell with reluctance. Some presented him with clothes and food; others gave him medicine for the journey as parting gifts. What particularly moved Wu Song to tears was that those very “neighbors” were among the crowd seeing him off. Even so, one from among them came forward and, to Wu Song’s hands—

“Please use this for your expenses during your journey.” “It would bring us ill fortune—we simply cannot accept any portion of it.”

They handed over a considerable sum of money. “Huh? ...What is this?” “It’s the money from selling your brother’s house and all his household belongings. You told us neighbors to distribute it among ourselves, but—” “No one would take it? Then I’ve done nothing but cause trouble for all of you.”

“Not at all.” “We’re all just relieved you only received a sentence without further punishment.” “When you think about it, we too failed Brother Wu Da as neighbors.” “How could we possibly accept this money on top of that?” “Please, at least take care of yourself in Mengzhou’s penal colony.”

The prison's warden and his son revered Wu Song as an honored guest of the prison.

The season was already early summer in June. Wu Song, pondering deeply, realized that the past seventy or eighty days had passed like a nightmare. Life is unfathomable. What kind of day would await beyond Mengzhou tomorrow?

“Chief Constable. “It’ll take twenty days to reach Mengzhou. Once we’re clear of villages on the road, say whatever you damn well please.”

The two minor officials in charge of escorting treated Wu Song kindly along the way, showing no trace of harshness whatsoever. Wu Song too distributed everything from farewell gifts to his personal funds, maintaining complete composure throughout. Yet at every roadside inn and mountain pass where tavern flags fluttered, he found himself unable to resist—and thus on Shizipo's ridge path, where they would reach Mengzhou within days, he had already stumbled into a perilous trap through this very weakness for drink. There stood a solitary tavern.

Of course, it targeted only travelers passing through the mountain pass. “Well, let’s have a drink.” And now that Mengzhou was nearly within sight, even the two escorts let down their guard and drank copiously—that was the root of their mistake. The sake apparently had a narcotic mixed into it. All three lost all semblance of themselves like formless lumps, drooling as they collapsed. They had been careless. In this area, even children as wild as mountain monkeys sang in their songs, “The poisonous berries of Shizipo—even snakes won’t touch them!”

Berry wine flows with human blood If you split open a meat bun, you'll hear the voices of the dead! To put it plainly, this mountain pass tavern was in fact an evil den where a couple engaged in unabashed banditry lured travelers.

Moreover, their violent deeds were exceptionally cruel. Once made drunk with poisoned wine, none had ever left alive from beneath those eaves. “Hohoho!” “No matter how many we take, fresh customers always come after!” The tavern’s proprietress was a Gypsy-like woman wearing heavy makeup—clad in a green gauze robe and crimson skirt, golden bracelets encircling her wrists where glossy body hair shimmered. Her epithet was Mother Yecha; her family name was Sun. People called her Mother Yecha Sun Erniang.

The proprietor of this establishment was a man called Zhang Qing the Vegetable Gardener, who had formerly been a field keeper at Guangming Temple. His strength alone was remarkably formidable. However, the success of such wicked schemes depends on who they target. Things don't always go so smoothly—Wu Song's case was one such example. Wu Song had in fact only recently had his brother Wu Da poisoned by someone, "Hmm, the taste of this wine...?"

He immediately sensed something amiss and had secretly spat out the wine from the very first sip without the woman noticing. Even his subsequent pretense of drinking and dramatic collapse—all of it had been an act. And so it was not he who had fallen into the trap, but rather the bandit Mother Yecha and Zhang Qing and his wife. “Now then, let’s get to work.” When Mother Yecha reached toward his feigned corpse, Wu Song sprang upright, seized the woman, and effortlessly subdued Zhang Qing as he appeared on the scene. There, the demonic couple found themselves in a scene of tearful confession.

There. From this couple's mouths, Wu Song learned of the Flowery Monk Lu Zhishen and the Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi's whereabouts.

The Flowery Monk’s name had already—from his great rampage at Mount Wutai—shocked even the Great Xiangguo Temple in the capital and echoed across the realm, yet the mountain couple, unaware of this, had apparently attempted to use the same method to drug this traveling monk. They were immediately found out, given a harsh beating by that Flowery Monk, and barely spared their lives—such was their confession. "My, my..."

Zhang Qing scratched his head. "Despite that lesson, we went and did it again—and to think we didn't realize we were dealing with none other than the famous Chief Constable Wu Song, slayer of tigers! What an outrageous blunder we've committed." "Please, I beg you to overlook this." "In exchange, I'll never refuse any order you give—no matter what."

“Alright, I’ll help you.” “But those two petty officers escorting me got struck by poisoned wine and are out cold.” “Treat them quick.”

“But wouldn’t it be better to just let those two pass away as they are?” “For your sake，Chief Constable.”

“Why?” “Rumor has it that the Flowery Monk Lu Zhishen we just mentioned has since taken up residence at Baozhu Temple on Two Dragons Mountain and built up a massive bandit stronghold there together with another called the Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi...” “After all, there’s no sense in you meekly letting yourself get hauled off to some penal colony in Mengzhou now, is there?” “If you’re so inclined, I’d be honored to guide you to Two Dragons Mountain myself.” “Nah, I ain’t about that cheap trickery.” “If I ran, it’d stain Magistrate Chen Wenzhao of Dongping Prefecture—the man who showed me kindness.” “Besides, those two petty officers didn’t give me any grief the whole way here.” “Quit yappin’ and get some antidote down their throats to wake ’em up!”

Both Mother Yecha and Zhang Qing were struck by admiration for his straightforward disposition. They promptly nursed the two men back to life. The next day, they hosted an apology banquet to sincerely express their remorse, pledged future loyalty, and escorted Wu Song and his party to the entrance of Mengzhou Avenue.

Even demons weep. When the time for parting came, Zhang Qing and his wife,

“...Take care of yourself, Chief Constable. When entering a new land, follow its customs.” “Skillfully fulfill your sentence.”

they even had tears welling up in their eyes.

When they arrived at the governor’s office, the escorts immediately affixed the Dongping Prefecture documents to his person, “Once we receive the official handover paperwork, we shall promptly take our leave.”

and carried out the formalities.

The governor glanced over [the documents] and, “Send Wu Song to the prison.” “You’ve had quite the journey from Dongping Prefecture.” “You may return to your prefecture.”

He pressed his seal onto several documents with a series of wet smacks and handed them to his subordinates.

The very name "Prison" was terrifying enough. It was indeed a purgatorial fortress. In all the world, could there truly be so many villains that such a vast number of prison cells were required? But through Wu Song's eyes, the faces swarming inside the cells seemed far less like emblems of evil than those strutting outside—clanging police batons and chains—which inevitably appeared, no matter how one looked at them, as badges not of good but of wickedness.

“Hey, Newcomer. Did you bring any money? This is a hell where money talks louder than out there!”

“Money… I don’t have a single coin.” “There’s even a tavern inside the prison, huh?” “Because, I tell ya, if you don’t offer greeting silver to the jailers and inspectors right from the start, this is what happens.” “What’s this supposed to be?” “With the promised killing stick, you’ll endure a hundred lashes.” “If you take it head-on, you’ll be coughing up bloody foam.”

“Hmm.” “So you’re trying to break the newcomer’s spirit, huh?” “Well, go ahead and do your worst.”

“This ain’t no joke, Newcomer. You in your right mind?” “My mind’s sound enough, but I was born with a slightly crooked navel.” “This here’s my mother’s fault—can’t be helped.” “Quit being so stubborn. “Oh look—the jailer’s comin’.” “Everyone, shut your mouths!”

They were sensitive to footsteps. The prison grew dim and silent. The clank of iron shackles hung ominously in the air. “You there—are you Wu Song, former Chief Constable of Yanggu County?” “Step forward.” “Come with me.” In the inspection hall’s square waited about ten guards under the Prison Warden—the head jailer.

The Prison Warden commanded his subordinates.

“Remove the criminal’s cangue”—he commanded again, his words aimed at the subdued Wu Song. “Since Emperor Taizu Wude’s reign, it has been codified in our penal laws: all new exiles entering this prison must receive one hundred strikes of the killing stick. Now men—beat him senseless!” “Ah? What’re you doing?” Wu Song protested. “Stop squirming!” barked the warden. “You’re the ones making all the noise! I haven’t moved a muscle! Then why grab my arms and surround me?”

“Because they scream and go mad.” “No matter who they are, once they’ve taken ten or twenty strikes, they thrash about and become impossible to subdue.”

“Hahaha! You’re being careful before you even start swinging, you bastards. That ain’t how it works! Hey! That piss-pants stance looks pathetic. Do it right!” “This piece of shit…” Two soldiers with raised clubs closed in from both sides and began alternating their blows, poised to count out one hundred strikes.

Then suddenly, as if struck by a thought, the Prison Warden shouted, “Wait!” and halted them. It seemed a young man standing beside him had whispered something into his ear and persuaded him to stop. This was a fair-skinned, red-lipped youth of about twenty-four or twenty-five. He sported a thin, elegant beard styled not in the Chinese manner but stiffly upturned like a Nordic man’s. His attire consisted of a black gauze robe with a white silk sash tied horizontally across his waist, and white bandages wrapped around both his head and wrists.

The Prison Warden received another whisper in his ear from that young man,

“Halt the hundred lashes.” “Once Wu Song’s body has healed, we will issue further orders—until then, throw him into solitary.”

Having given this command to the guards, he seemed about to leave immediately.

“What the hell’re you sayin’?” Wu Song shouted. “I ain’t sick or nothin’! Why’re you stoppin’, huh?”

“Shut up,” snapped the Prison Warden. “The investigative report from our superiors states that you have a history of occasional episodes of madness. Even if we were to subdue your frenzy, it would not serve the intent of the Killing Stick’s law. We’ll carry it out when you’re in your right mind.” With that, he strode off, the distinctive young man at his side promptly following into the distance.

Rather, it was Wu Song who stood dumbfounded. And dragged along by the jailers, when he passed by the front of the stone-walled tunnel cell as before, “Well, look who’s back with that blank face, you bastard!” “Hey, what’s your deal, newbie?” And so his fellow prisoners crowded around him, pressing for every detail. And when they heard the reason, they all fell eerily silent and pitied Wu Song’s figure as though he were a man whose shadow had grown faint. “...So what is it then? You didn’t get any bigshot’s recommendation letter for the warden here?”

“Hmm, never got anything like that.” “And you didn’t slip any ‘sleeve money’ to the jailers or inspectors neither, did ya?” “Like hell I did.” “Ain’t my style, that crap.” “Well then—tonight’s your white rice feast for sure.” “What’s this ‘white rice feast’?” “Buddha’s favorite treat. “You’ll stuff yourself with a mountain of it in your bowl, then get strung up headfirst in the dirt cell—come mornin’, you’ll be cozy with the ants underground.”

“Ain’t no blessed occasion.”

Wu Song gave a bitter smile.

“You’re all spouting such weird nonsense. Heh. So I’m the only one gettin’ thrown into solitary tonight?”

However, when Wu Song found himself isolated alone in a distant cell, even he didn't feel at ease.

Sure enough, when night fell, a different old soldier brought in a lavish spread unbefitting a prison. It was not just a single bowl of white rice. There were fried meat, udon, soup, and even sake.

“Here ya go. Might as well drink up.” “Go on, drink it all down.” Once he had eaten his fill, he was left snoring loudly.

The next morning’s meal was also splendid.

"There’s no liquor, but they even had to go and include fruit." "Hmph... When things reach this point, worldly attachments sure do multiply in this life."

No—that evening brought yet another array of prepared dishes surpassing the previous night’s. Moreover, the wine was premium grade. The deliciousness of dishes like carp simmered in sweet sauce was beyond words.

Such treatment continued for seven days.

“What the... What on earth are they planning to do with me?” Then, the old soldier who always came alone brought another soldier with him that evening. They carried in a large bathing tub with hot water and urged, “Bathe.” Finally, a barber arrived, neatly tied up his hair, and changed him into completely new undergarments and robes before leaving. At last, he could make no sense of it.

“Chief Constable Wu Song. Step out of there and please move over here.”

The next morning.

The same old soldier led him away, proceeding ahead up the sunlit stairs from the prison tunnel. Is it finally time for the earth dungeon? Just as he was thinking this, contrary to expectations, it turned out to be a bright and neatly kept single-room building. Looking around, he saw furnishings and even a pristine bed had been provided. For lunch: a whole roasted chicken, simmered vegetables, white bread, soup, and even grape wine. “Ugh, I’m stuffed.” When he casually pushed the door, he found the lock hadn’t been fastened. Thereupon, Wu Song decided to take a stroll and wandered all around the prison grounds—an area as vast as pastureland.

Beneath midsummer cumulonimbus clouds, a hellish swarm of prisoners labored gasping for breath, still shackled at the waist. After all, it was the blazing heat of late June. The prisoners had no shade to wipe their sweat. Beneath hoes, fire burned; the stone blocks they carried blazed like molten iron; even the water they drew was scalding as boiling water—this was a scorching execution ground.

“Hey, everyone.” Wu Song sauntered over, nonchalantly clasping his hands behind his back, and addressed them. “Why aren’t you taking naps, working under this blazing sun?”

“Huh? “Naps, you say?” Half the prisoners burst into laughter while the other half seemed ready to burst a gut, one among them snarling: “What’re you yappin’ about? “Don’t know where you crawled from, you rice-sucking leech, spoutin’ that cushy talk—try livin’ a day in these chains! “But hey—this ain’t no life sentence hole or execution block. We’re wringin’ our sweat out here thinkin’ this sunbaked patch is still God’s own paradise. “Keep struttin’ ’round like some lordling and spewin’ that fancy shit? We’ll take a scythe to your shins!”

Wu Song jolted into awareness at their tone. "—Oh right. I was one of those prisoners too," he realized as he dashed back into his quarters like a man fleeing unseen pursuers. And then，in that strange room："...Huh? What am I，really?" he wondered gloomily，sinking into brooding．

One evening. And then, as usual.

Growing weary of the sumptuous food and wine, Wu Song sprawled on his bed when the same old soldier entered like an inn servant to clear away the customary dishes. "Tonight’s the night."

Wu Song again grabbed him and asked why he was receiving such exceptional treatment. "You're putting me in a real bind here, Chief Constable."

The old soldier seemed to have been strictly ordered by his master to keep silent. However, under Wu Song’s relentless interrogation, he finally cracked that night. “Well... you see... By the Young Master’s orders, I was told not to reveal my name for three months or half a year—until the appointed time comes.”

“Now I want to ask even more.” “Just who is this ‘Young Master’?” “It’s the son of Lord Warden—the one who stopped your hundred lashes in the inspection hall square that time.” “So that handsome man with bandages on his hands and head who stood beside Lord Warden then.”

“That’s correct…” “He’s unrivaled in swordsmanship, so folks have given him the nickname ‘Golden-Eyed Panther.’ His true name is Master Shi En.”

“Hmm. So he’s the stalwart I suspected,” Wu Song mused. “But why would Young Master Shi En show such unexpected kindness to a mere convict like me—someone with no connections whatsoever?” “As for his intentions,” the old soldier demurred, “we humble servants cannot fathom them.” “Nonsense. You know full well,” Wu Song pressed. “You’ve started this tale—there’s no law saying you can’t finish it.” A voice cut through from an unexpected direction. The door burst open as someone swept inside.

“Ah, allow me—Shi En—to explain the reason directly.” “You—! You’re—”

Wu Song rose from the bed.—The old soldier hastily grabbed the dish box and scurried away.

“Chief Constable. “Regarding our previous encounter—my apologies.” “Likewise.” “So you’re Golden-Eyed Panther Shi En?” “That’s correct. "I must apologize for having caused you such needless suspicion." “Far from it—you’ve shown me undue kindness. "The only thing that bothers me is that I don’t understand the reason for it." “...to this Wu Song with no connection whatsoever.” “Ah, I have long been aware of your esteemed name. "Forgive my impertinence once more, but I also observed your character firsthand with these eyes the other day." "So I whispered to my father, the Warden, stopped the hundred lashes, and then, for your rest and recovery, took the liberty of making some arrangements regarding your daily routine and meals."

“Isn’t it strange to give rest to a prisoner under custody? You must have some other purpose in mind.” “In truth, there is a great request I must make of you—a plea only someone of your stature could fulfill.” “What exactly is it? Speak plainly.” “I shall bring my father here at once to formally make our petition with three ceremonial bows.” “Spare me the rigid formalities. I detest roundabout ways. Just lay it out straight.”

“Then, will you kindly hear me out?”

Shi En began to speak. He was concise, and his account was clear.

There was a bustling entertainment district commonly known as Kuaihuolin outside the East Gate of Mengzhou’s main avenue.

The market where merchants from Shandong and Hebei gathered for trade, adjacent to the highway, was commonly said to have a thousand brothels and a hundred inns, with even money exchangers alone numbering twenty or thirty. Of course, the gambling dens thrived. Bosses big and small each held their own territories, kept underlings, captured itinerant travelers as easy prey, and among them, Lord Warden’s young master Shi En—the Golden-Eyed Panther—also held a stake in one territory. This stake referred to a large shop selling alcohol and meat, right at the heart of the entertainment district. First was his father’s influence; second was his own swordsmanship; third were seventy or eighty clever underlings he had recruited from within the prison camp. By leveraging these conditions, they turned customers from the entire pleasure quarter—inns, gambling dens, money exchange clientele—into patrons, establishing themselves as a major merchant power. Moreover, even itinerant craftsmen and traveling female performers from other regions had no choice but to—

(We humbly request permission to work here for several months)

They had to first pay their respects at Shi En’s establishment and submit registration documents—otherwise, they couldn’t work in the area—such was the system that had been put in place.

And the income from this was enormous. Even in lean months, they never failed to bring in two to three hundred taels of silver.

“Ha ha ha ha! That’s a bit too good, isn’t it?”

Wu Song burst out laughing as he listened. However, without mixing in small talk, Shi En pressed on with increasing fervor: "The circumstances of placing my trust in you—that comes next." As was customary for penal colonies, Mengzhou too had a powerful military division stationed there. Recently, General Zhang—commander of that army—had arrived from Dongluzhou. Furthermore, this General Zhang had brought along a man as his yes-man. That man bore the nickname Jiang Menshen—a towering figure over nine shaku tall, a fierce warrior skilled with spears and staffs, fists and legs. Most notably adept at sumo wrestling—a stalwart said to have defeated even the Taishan of Grand Tournaments for three straight years—he now spread his wings through Mengzhou's main avenue; none dared lay hands on him.

“...This is regrettable,”

Shi En pressed a hand to his forehead—still wrapped in unremoved bandages—having reached this point in his account. "That Jiang Menshen has completely seized both my territory and my shop." "Naturally, I didn't surrender them without resistance." "We fought back, but when that brute confronted us directly, none could stand against him. As you see, I too suffered these wretched injuries—though it galls me to admit, I'm simply no match for him." "And to make matters worse, that scoundrel has General Zhang's authority backing him from behind..."

“Well, I get it. The gist of your request.—But what I don’t get is why some military bastard named Zhang would back a reckless thug like Jiang Menshen.” “It’s about money, plain and simple. After all, this shop brings in two to three hundred taels of silver every month.”

“I see,” said Wu Song. “First, I’ve grasped the gist of it. Let me put your mind at ease. By nature, this Wu Song can’t stand the sight of fake military men who wield authority as a shield—those bastards who try to force their tyranny through brute strength. Whenever I see such scum, my blood boils with rage until it’s unbearable.” “Then lend me your strength,” said Shi En. “There’s no question of whether I’ll lend it or not,” Wu Song retorted. “This Jiang Menshen beast—I can’t stomach him!” At that moment, Shi En’s father the Warden entered as well. Together they appealed to Wu Song’s sense of justice, and the Warden himself spoke thus:

"My son lacks merit, but he did not undertake this work merely out of greed for silver." "In Mengzhou's main avenue—where people from various provinces gather—when he saw men of promise, he supported them, hoping to foster a spirit of chivalry in this land." "But Jiang Menshen trampled that foundation underfoot, and with his military authority besides, we could only swallow our bitter resentment." "To unexpectedly discover your esteemed presence here now feels like parting clouds to behold the sun... I humbly beg you not to abandon my son henceforth—consider him your sworn brother and guide him with stern correction."

“No—this honor far exceeds my worth.” “Such divine favor surpasses my station.” Wu Song remained seated in the lowest position, refusing to rise. “You misunderstand,” countered the Warden. “A man’s true value lies in his merits alone. Though men call him ‘Young Master of the Prison Warden,’ Shi En remains unworthy to be your right-hand man.” “Father speaks truth,” said Shi En. “Brother Wu Song—whatever your view—I shall henceforth honor you as my sworn elder brother.” Shi En performed the fourfold ceremonial bow before Wu Song. Wu Song had no choice but to return the courtesy in kind.

The following evening, the father and son once again invited Wu Song to a separate hall. And then they stayed up through the night at the banquet, engrossed in pleasant conversation. Wu Song opened his heart freely after so long—so delighted he could hardly contain himself—and having gotten thoroughly drunk until his steps staggered, he eventually stepped outside supported by a servant's hand,

“Ah, autumn’s near—the Milky Way’s visible.”

Finally, he staggered into his room—and the moment he lay down, consciousness slipped away.

Making Jiang Menshen crawl on all fours, Wu Song downed a large cup of the Named Moon. The next day, Wu Song promptly set out for the area outside Mengzhou’s east gate together with Young Master Shi En.

However, he was considerably hungover. Along the way, whenever they spotted the signs of small taverns,

“Hey, just one quick drink to take the edge off last night’s hangover.”

he would stop by, then walk a little further,

“This isn’t cutting it.” “I’m stuck in this half-assed mood—it just ain’t kickin’ in.” “Gimme another cup.”

Making Shi En and his retainers wait outside, he walked under the blazing sun, taking swigs of morning wine again and again as he went. Around noon, they reached the crossroads outside the city walls where the clamor of Mengzhou Avenue's market mingled with cicadas' shrill cries into a swelling cacophony. "Oh! That bastard Jiang Menshen's lounging over there!"

"Wh-where? Where is he?" "He's in the willow shade at the plaza set back from the main road." "That guy?" "And where's the tavern that bastard runs?" "It's the corner shop on the main street through the diagonal path from that plaza."

“Understood. All of you—scatter far and hide.”

Wu Song walked alone past the willow grove where the man rested, deliberately passing before him. When Wu Song shot a sidelong glare, Jiang Menshen appeared to observe him through half-lidded eyes while feigning indifference. The man truly was a terrifying giant. His legs stretched out from the chair seemed twice the length of an ordinary man's. His equine face bore purplish, wart-ridden skin with a yellow beard coiling around his lips—in one hand he clutched a fly whisk, his entire outfit from top to bottom pure white hemp. After fixing Wu Song's retreating figure with that unnervingly narrow-eyed gaze, he seemed to slip back into a half-slumbering state.

Here was Wu Song. At the most prominent corner shop on the main street, he walked straight into a conspicuously thriving large tavern and took a seat. Since it was noon, customers were still few. Wu Song rested his cheek on the counter,

“Hey! Bro! Hurry up and bring it already!”

“Right away!” The young waiter darted over. “What would you like to order?”

"You idiot! Any customer walking into a tavern wants wine—no need to ask!" "My apologies." He immediately filled a square bowl to the brim and brought it over. "Here you go—sorry for the wait." Wu Song merely gave it a quick sniff. "Hey. Bring another—this swill ain't wine." "Is it unsatisfactory?" The waiter drew different wine from the premium cask and set it before Wu Song's nose.

“Pfft…” With a single mouthful, Wu Song blew it out in a mist and roared, “So Mengzhou’s number one tavern’s reputation is a damn lie. Bring me another one!”

Then, from the back office, a woman glared this way while calling over that waiter—a young proprietress in light silk robes that exposed her plump, snow-white arms. She twisted her pomegranate-red lips into a tight pout, brought her hand adorned with a golden snake bracelet to her cheek, and seemed to have been holding back her irritation all along. “Tch, what an impudent brat,” she said. “But fine—bring him another round. If he still fusses after that, I’ll come toss him out myself.”

But Wu Song— The third serving of wine he gulped down in one breath and blew out. “This one’s passable. Hey, another one.”

“Did this one meet your approval?”

“Shut up and bring it. “Right after this one! “Then tell the proprietress to come here and put on her charming act or whatever.”

“I-I can’t say such a thing!” “Why can’t you?” “This isn’t just any ordinary tavern or restaurant.” "The proprietress belongs to Boss Jiang Menshen, you see." “So... instead of sending someone to fetch Jiang Menshen, making that hussy over there cry would be a quicker way to get that bastard flying over here, wouldn’t it?” Hearing this, the woman at the counter pointed toward the street and barked at the several cooks who had been working their knives at the nearby meat-cutting table, commanding them like a general.

“You lot—drag that centipede-looking bastard outside!” However, before the words had even finished leaving her lips, Wu Song’s body vaulted over the front counter. Grabbing the proprietress by her golden snake bracelet, he yanked her out and hurled her upside down into one of the three large wine jars buried in the earthen floor’s corner. A spray of wine erupted everywhere. From beneath the whirlwind of chaos, cleavers and people caught in the fray went flying three or four at a time into the street. Wu Song swiftly followed them out, planting himself firmly in the roadway. Yet even before he emerged, Jiang Menshen—having rushed over upon hearing the commotion—already stood planted like a wrathful guardian deity, glaring at Wu Song with fury blazing in his brows.

The bare-handed brawl between Jiang Menshen and Wu Song stirred up the crossroads crowd for a time. Though Wu Song himself was a giant, he didn't even reach up to Jiang Menshen's armpits against the latter's towering frame. However, having recently indulged excessively in women and wine—and facing such an opponent besides—Jiang immediately took a thunderous punch to the solar plexus and a kick to the forehead that made him stagger, his imposing demeanor crumbling far quicker than his appearance suggested. To be sure, even the fierce tiger of Jingyang Ridge had been dazzled by Wu Song's martial arts techniques—the "Jade Ring" strike, "Dragon Whisker Strikes the Clouds," and "Water Slash." However formidable Jiang Menshen might be, he must have ultimately been no match. Soon enough, mercilessly pounded until he lay prostrate on the ground, he barely drew breath.

“Hey, what's wrong, Blue Bastard?” “I-I yield.” “Groveling ain't enough—I ain't lettin' this slide. Swallow my three conditions, and I'll spare your stinkin' hide. Well?” “State your terms.” “First—return this whole damn tavern to its rightful owner Shi En.” “Understood.” “Second—drag every local boss here and make 'em eat dirt with apologies before the crowd.”

“It shall be done as you command.” “Third—get out immediately and never show your face in Mengzhou’s pleasure quarters again. If I catch even a glimpse of you, I’ll twist that horse-face right off your skull!” “Understood,” Jiang Menshen groveled. “I have no objections.” “Good—stay put,” Wu Song barked. “I’ll make the arrangements now.” When Wu Song raised his hand and called out, Shi En and his retainers emerged from their hiding place and pressed forward in unison. The local bosses needed no summons—they had already slipped into the crowd when the commotion began. Murmurs rippled through the onlookers: “That’s Wu Song, the tiger-slayer!” “Chief Constable Wu who avenged his brother by killing Ximen Qing in Yanggu County before being exiled here!” Not a soul dared approach without prostrating themselves.

“Spectators gathered here—bear witness! Take careful note of this spectacle!” “From this day forth, the tyrannical Blue Bastard is expelled from Kuaihuolin’s entertainment district! Shi En—the Golden-Eyed Panther and son of Warden Guan—now resumes administration of this establishment and the surrounding territory as before!... Now then, Blue Bastard—make three bows and scurry off to wherever you please!”

It was midday in the entertainment district. This commotion, fueled by the crowd’s nosiness. Over the dust, the crowd of onlookers’ laughter and jeers burst forth and swirled into a whirlwind. Since this incident, the corner tavern—renowned as Kuaihuolin’s premier drinking establishment—had redoubled its booming business. It went without saying that Shi En now occupied the main seat of authority, and his father the Warden would also occasionally ride over on horseback to survey the thriving business. Credit slips from the nearby inns, money exchangers, gambling dens, traveling performers, and others also contributed to a thriving business even greater than before.

“Chief Constable.” “I shall never forget this kindness.” “Please—you too—spend half of each month here living freely as you please.”

Shi En said.

This was no empty flattery. His father held the crucial post of Warden of the prison. It meant that through his official authority and financial power, they could manipulate Wu Song’s forced labor as they pleased. He had no intention of riding on their coattails, but Wu Song was a man who preferred wine to rice. Moreover, given that he could act freely, it was only natural that he ended up frequenting there so often.

One day, when the wind had taken on autumn's crispness and wine's flavor had ripened to perfection.

“Is the Tiger-Slaying Chief Constable Wu in attendance here?”

Leading a splendidly saddled dark bay horse, two soldiers arrived. Their grass-green uniforms edged with braided gold trim were immediately recognizable as belonging to attendants from the Governor's mansion. Shi En emerged to inquire about their business. "Our Governor Zhang has expressed his desire to witness the Chief Constable's martial presence firsthand," one soldier declared. "Accordingly, we bear this summons."

With that, they presented a written notice. On the reverse side, Commander of Mengzhou Garrison, Zhang Mengfang bore a large square seal. Shi En had brought out a couch to the rear garden and shaken awake Wu Song—who had been napping there—then showed him the document. “What will you do? The messenger awaits.”

“So the Governor... that’s your father’s superior, right?” “My father is, well, a civil official, but he remains the direct superior of Commander Zhang from the prison surveillance unit.” “I don’t know what this is about, but we exiles are originally just stripped-down outcasts.” “In case the Warden’s oversight might cause complications, I’ll just pop over for a quick appearance.”

Wu Song washed his face after his nap and casually mounted the waiting horse. Governor Zhang’s residence stood on a small, picturesque hill within the city walls. In a grand pavilion within, the Governor waited for him and amiably said: “Chief Constable Wu’s name—I had long heard of it.” “We are both military men—a warrior recognizes a warrior!” “How about returning to the army and serving by my side?” To this, even Wu Song found himself persuaded. It couldn’t be bad. I am but a prisoner serving my sentence.

Moreover, he would take care of matters with both the Warden and Shi En's shop, and told him to stay as he was. This might be the time to secure my position—such thoughts suddenly arose within him.

“It’s an honor. “I will not shirk even the most menial tasks.” "I humbly ask for Your Excellency’s guidance so that I may earnestly learn to stand on my own." he answered.

Wu Song was given a small room. It was situated between the inner quarters of the private residence and the Governor’s official seat, attentively provided with every necessity. “Wu Song, Wu Song.” He was summoned morning and evening with a level of favor that seemed excessive for a newcomer. Under normal circumstances, he should have begun to feel suspicious there, but he was a man whose nature was tender-hearted and thirsting for human affection. Wu Song was like a man who had finally found his rightful place; in his determination to reclaim his humanity, he poured genuine devotion into even the simplest task—polishing the Governor’s boots.

Before one knew it, autumn had reached the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival.

That night, a Mid-Autumn Festival banquet was held on the terrace of Yuanyang Tower. Not only here but also the lights within and outside Mengzhou's walls could be seen as stars upon the earth. “Wu Song, I heard you were fond of wine, but you’re not drinking at all. Come closer.”

“Yes, sir!” “Why must you remain so stiff?” “With your honorable wife present—your family, these officers, this distinguished gathering...” “Ha ha ha! Such humility ill becomes a hero! Wu Song... I’ve treated you as a righteous man under my care. Can’t you recognize this kindness?” “Your Excellency...” Wu Song knelt, his voice thickening. Moonlight caught the tears beneath his face. “Thank you... Your words pierce my very soul.”

“What’s with the sniveling? Come on, drink.” “I humbly partake.” “Yu Lan, pour him a drink. No, no—a stalwart man shouldn’t be given such a small wine cup. Use a large one to pour for him.”

The maid Yu Lan, holding a jug, approached his side.

Wu Song drank it down in one gulp after a long time.

“Splendid, splendid!” praised those around them. Two or three more cups—closing his eyes as if drinking in the moon—he continued to down them one after another. “Now this grows interesting! Yu Lan, why don’t you perform a folk song and dance from your homeland?” This Yu Lan was none other than His Excellency’s cherished private chambermaid doubling as his beloved concubine. “Yes.”

With that, she immediately stood at the center of the moonlit terrace. Her pleated peach-colored hakama was trimmed with silver braid embroidery. Aside from her jade earrings, the ruby necklace and gold bracelets carried a distinct hint of Central Asian imported fashion. Indeed, her fair skin and eyes betrayed the blood of a white-skinned female slave purchased from beyond the distant Western Regions. Yet when she began to sing, it was to a melody adapted from a poem by Su Dongpo—a poet of this land—turned into a folk tune,

O you, since what age have you dwelt in this world? Offer wine, To the heavens I would ask: In jade palaces, jade silk, High places must be cold. O you, for how many ages have you dwelled? Upon that countenance, No trace of age.

When she rose to dance, those ever-youthful robes of clouds— the mortal world’s sovereign— resembled yet differed they did.

As her song and dance progressed, the lively notes from the clappers gripped in both her palms enlivened her footwork. Her slender waist swirled in the wind, her phoenix hairpin gleamed in the moonlight, and for a time it seemed as though even the insects' songs across the Mid-Autumn world had hushed their cries before her dance.

Suddenly, as if awakened, applause erupted from the entire assembly.

No sooner had Yu Lan finished than she bowed once and darted like a bird into the midst of the maidservants. “Wait, wait, Yu Lan—” Governor Zhang called out to stop her. “While you’re at it, go around and pour wine into everyone’s cups. Make sure Wu Song drinks more too!” Wu Song grew flustered,

“No, I—” “Hahaha! You lie! I’ve never heard of Wu Song getting drunk on so little! What say you, Wu Song?” “Hah!” “Did it please you?” “What do you mean, Your Excellency?” “If you take a liking to Yu Lan, I’ll have her wedded to you as your wife in time.”

“Preposterous!”

Because his manner of speaking was far too earnest, those nearby burst into laughter. At that laughter, Wu Song's face too flushed all at once with drunkenness. Poor honest soul—unaware he had become the feast's entertainment—still drained the large cup time and again as Yu Lan, amused, kept pressing him on.

The revelry ended, the moon dipped, and all people fell asleep.

He lay in his small room in a drunken stupor when suddenly he awoke—from somewhere deep within came a beautiful voice crying out, “Thief...!” That was what he had heard.

With a jolt, Wu Song sprang up. His master-loyal conscience would not permit him to let it go unheard. He raced down the long corridor in one leap. Then there on the railing-lined stairs of the inner garden lay Yu Lan collapsed. Yu Lan pointed— “That way... The villain... Hurry—go!”

Gasping for breath, she urged him on. Wu Song whirled around and charged into Ooba's shadowed pine forest. The instant he did, his legs were swept from under him by one of the spiderweb-patterned traps laid across the ground. Before he could regain his feet, a swarm of guards overwhelmed him, binding his arms behind his back without letting him utter a sound.

The wild beating of castle drums scattered dead leaves as Pilgrim Wu entrusted his seven-foot frame to the ends of the earth.

Pilgrim Wu entrusted his seven-foot frame to the ends of the earth.

In a single night, the dream of moonlit towers transformed into the reality of a dark, damp abyss.

Is this the underground prison of the Mengzhou Magistrate's Office? To Wu Song himself, everything remained utterly incomprehensible, but the charges recited by the Magistrate when he was thrown into prison were so unjust he could never forget them. 其方コト。 Having grown accustomed to the Governor’s favor through daily interactions, he committed thefts of various kinds, concealed the stolen goods in his own servant’s quarters, and further attempted to steal gold, silver, and jewels from the Madam’s secluded chambers on the fifteenth night—whereupon he was finally bound by the guards’ hands. Upon these grave crimes, and further compounding them with these severe offenses which are beyond ordinary measure, while awaiting judgment from the central authorities, we hereby order confinement in an earthen prison.

"Was I deceived after all?... But I don't recall ever giving Governor Zhang or that woman reason to hold grudges against me."

He struggled. I ain't dyin' like some mangy dog! Alright! I'll find my chance and break out of this prison!

However, about forty days later, Kang Yuli, the jailer, took an opportunity to whisper to him.

"To begin with, the prison management and Master Shi En and his father have been deeply concerned for your well-being behind the scenes," he prefaced. "In truth, behind the scenes, they’ve been secretly scattering bribes—hundreds of taels, who knows how much—to key officials at every influential post, trying by any means to rescue you. But alas, when your opponent is the Governor, there’s none who’ll stand against him... Still, they told me to pass on this message: ‘Whatever you do, don’t lose your temper.’" "Understood, Chief Constable Wu?"

“Thank you… Ah, such kindness moves me… But Officer Kang—why on earth would Governor Zhang frame an innocent man like me in such a trap?” “Well, that should be obvious.” “Governor Zhang Mengfang and his subordinate General Zhang are from the same Zhang clan, you know.”

“Hmm? I just don’t get it.” “You know Jiang Menshen—the one you thrashed at Kuaihuolin’s entertainment quarter—was General Zhang’s lapdog brought here when he took office, right?” “Huh. And?” “See, Jiang had seized that big corner shop and the whole district from Shi En. Daily earnings poured in through his operations—a fat cut of that dirty money flowed straight into the Zhang clan’s pockets. Think! From their view, when some convict like you cut off their golden goose’s lifeline, striking back at your life became their countermove.”

Having been told this, for the first time—

"I was a fool."

Wu Song smacked his head in solitude.

But when he heard of Shi En and his father's compassion, he found he couldn't completely abandon this world after all. At any rate, out of respect for their kindness, he reined in his self-destructive urge to break out of prison. And so he waited in darkness, vainly anticipating what pitch-black tomorrow might bring. Yet even Kang's kindness and deliveries soon ceased entirely. The Governor's faction had apparently sealed every possible leak through their surveillance—and not long after, Wu Song found himself being transferred even farther from these lands,

transferred to Enzhou Prison,

Thus, that very day, Wu Song—now a prisoner in shackles and a cangue—was escorted away by two prison officers. "Hmm. Why go through the trouble of taking me all that way just to execute me?" Even if it seemed suspicious in Wu Song's eyes, from the Governor's faction's perspective, it was undoubtedly for the sake of their reputation. Jiang Menshen was unpopular. If society were to perceive them as supporting that ruffian, it would damage the prestige of the Zhang military family. Sure enough, those ulterior motives showed signs on the third day after leaving Mengzhou along the highway. From midway along the journey, three suspicious men who looked like swordsmen had been trailing the escorted Wu Song, sometimes falling behind and sometimes moving ahead.

"...Hah! So you've deigned to come." Even someone as obtuse as Wu Song couldn't help but immediately notice those three men's murderous eyes.

That evening, when they reached the riverbank at Feiyunpu. Wu Song suddenly squirmed like a petulant child and crouched down.

“I—I can’t hold it anymore… You officers, I gotta piss.” “C’mon, loosen these handcuffs a bit.”

“What? You need to piss?” The prison officers exchanged glances.

The time was dusk; the place was the desolate bank of a river. Deliberately, the two followed along with the shackles and took him to the edge of a cliff where below lay a sinisterly deep pool.

“...Ahh, that hits the spot!” The split second when Wu Song had—or hadn’t—finished relieving himself. A streak of sword light swiftly grazed his shadow. In the same instant, a splash erupted on the pool’s surface with a thud as another man took his kick, “Agh—”

and, along with the officer behind him, he staggered and collapsed.

“Don’t underestimate me!” “Me!” From Wu Song’s throat—flushed crimson and swollen from his roar—the cangue’s hinge snapped with a crack, sending the obstructive collar pieces flying apart in two. With a roar, he grabbed the fleeing officer with both hands and hurled him into the river, then lunged at another assassin—

“Bastard!”

he roared. At that voice alone, the man collapsed limply to the ground, “Chief Constable, at least spare my life—” and crawled on the ground to prostrate himself. It became clear that the three assassins were Jiang Menshen’s disciples. Wu Song made the man strip naked. Then he stripped off his own prison garb, changed into the man’s clothes, and even took up the greatsword the man had been carrying. “If you alone return unharmed, you’ll be failing your comrades. Go consult the Water God about whether you live or die!”

Then, grabbing him in a single motion, he hurled him into the river’s rapids. Thus, after two days and nights racing back to Mengzhou, Wu Song had undoubtedly transformed into a vengeful demon consumed by fury. That very night of his arrival, he infiltrated deep into the Governor’s residence.

Unaware of this, that night too, the lights of Yuanyang Tower forgot the deepening starry sky amidst the clamor of revelry, while Yu Lan’s ivory clappers sang “Wang Zhaojun.” Disgustingly, this private gathering now included Jiang Menshen’s gravelly voice—absent during that Mid-Autumn banquet—and the booming laughter of Commander Zhang, a relative of the Zhang clan.

The stars of dawn were still faint at the hour of the fifth watch.

The drums at Mengzhou’s four city gates sounded at an untimely hour, beating in an unprecedented frantic rhythm.

“What’s going on? That doesn’t sound like the timekeeping drums.”

The townsfolk rushed outside to look and were so stunned they thought it must be a riot or war. Around the Governor’s residence, swift horses raced ceaselessly to unknown destinations. Soldiers stood guard at every intersection. Prison officials and magistrates with ashen faces whipped their horses and sped toward the official residence.

Before long, it was already around noon. “Whoa, this is a catastrophe! A complete disaster!” From the mouths of stable hands and servants in the stable yard of the Governor’s residence, the truth also spread to the ears of the town.

It was late last night, after the banquet had ended. Governor Zhang and his wife, along with five others—the maid Yu Lan, guest Commander Zhang, Jiang Menshen, and more—had been slaughtered beneath the tower, at the entrance to the corridor, and in rooms, all by a murderous weapon resembling a greatsword. Discovered a mere half-hour later, this caused an uproar, yet the perpetrator's trace was nowhere to be seen. Only on the official residence's white wall, written in blood: "The one who came here and did this is Tiger-Slaying Wu Song."

...it was written—so it was said.

“Eek—…. How bold…” The rumors darkened Mengzhou City like an unrelenting nightmare. For several days thereafter, even the lights of the entertainment districts outside the city remained unlit, and a swamp-like chill blew cold even during the daytime. After all, this was far beyond what any local administration could handle. Given the violent deaths of both the Governor and the Commander, this matter would inevitably concern the prestige of the central government. And immediately, arrest warrants for Wu Song—complete with his physical description, place of origin, age, and criminal record—were widely distributed across various circuits and counties. Yet not a single trace of the criminal Wu Song could be found, remaining utterly beyond the grasp of the detectives’ frenzied search.

So, where was Wu Song during all this?

During that time, he had been given shelter at that solitary house in Cross Slope. Though this alone might no longer jog readers’ memories, Wu Song had in fact been hiding after confiding his circumstances to that couple from the mountain teahouse—Zhang Qing, the “Vegetable Gardener,” and his wife Sun Erniang, the “Mother Yecha”—with whom he had sworn brotherhood and parted ways on the eve of his arrival in Mengzhou. “See there! If only you’d charged straight to Two Dragons Mountain back then, like we urged you to—none of this would’ve happened!” Zhang Qing lamented, but Wu Song smiled wryly as if acknowledging his own foolishness. “But brother—real men don’t dwell on regrets.”

Zhang Qing lamented, but Wu Song smiled thinly as if recognizing his own foolishness. "But Brother, a man doesn't ever regret."

Before long, the subordinate Zhang Qing had left in the town returned to report. "No—even now, inside and outside the city, they were combing through every nook and cranny in their manhunt." "Wanted posters were plastered everywhere, with five-household and ten-household neighborhood watch groups formed in every block, and they’d announced that anyone who knew the criminal’s whereabouts but failed to report it would be charged as accomplices throughout the town." "In exchange, a three thousand guan reward would be given to anyone who reported Wu Song’s whereabouts—the magistrate’s office had just issued the notice today, sir."

“Tsk, this is bad,” Zhang Qing clicked his tongue. “Before long, even this lone house on the pass won’t be safe anymore.” That day, he formally addressed Wu Song and once again urgently advised fleeing to Two Dragons Mountain.

In truth, Wu Song had already been of that mind. "In that case—if you’d be so kind—could you write a letter of introduction addressed to those men at Baozhu Temple on Two Dragons Mountain: Lu Zhishen the Flower Monk and Yang Zhi the Blue-Faced Beast?"

“Easy enough. However, with that attire of yours, even the journey itself would be uncertain.”

“Then what’s a man supposed to do?” “Now now, don’t get riled up. Why not become a tudou monk—what they call a Pilgrim who keeps his hair?” “Makes sense.” “We’ve got the robe, belt, headband with metal wires, and ordination papers from that pilgrim we killed here ages ago. Even a full rosary of 108 human bone beads—all stashed away like we knew this day’d come.”

Then, his wife, Mother Yecha, also spoke.

“Right, right—and there’s still that wickedly sharp precept knife in a sharkskin sheath too.” “...And to complete the pilgrim disguise—we’ll trim your hair, hide that golden seal tattoo on your forehead with bangs, and if we carefully apply a small medicinal plaster over it too—then even if they turn the world upside down searching, they’ll never spot you as the wanted Wu Song.”

Zhang Qing clapped his hands,

“Well said. Right then—go ahead and cut his hair short immediately.” From that night through the next day, they secretly held farewell drinks inside the mountain house. Zhang Qing implored earnestly.

“I’m not one to lecture others, but mind your drinking—don’t let that carefully crafted monk’s disguise slip in public. And Brother, you’re too trusting—you take people’s words at face value far too easily. In that regard, take extra care.”

“Thank you.” “It goes bone-deep.”

He put on straw sandals and deliberately chose to depart here at dusk.

By then, it was already October—the days growing short. Fallen leaves danced from woods beneath a waning pale sun, their fluttering forms blowing sideways across the path of the white Pilgrim figure who pressed onward while glancing back again and again.

Having left behind both the renowned Centipede Peak and its late autumn behind him, Wu Song had journeyed toward Qingzhou's Two Dragons Mountain for over twenty days now, each day bringing winter's approach closer with every step.

"Ugh… It’s turned bitterly cold."

That day, Pilgrim Wu rushed into a small mountain village tavern and found himself calling out like an infant crying for milk. “Proprietor! Give me something hot to drink.” “Pilgrim sir? Unfiltered sake?” “Nah. Premium’s better.” “And two catties of decent meat.” “Ah... Regrettably...” “We’ve only got unfiltered.” “No meat either?” “Might I offer a plate of stew instead?”

Pilgrim Wu was drinking alone with an unamused face. After all, Zhang Qing’s words were on his mind. The sake he drank while brooding over this damnable restlessness tasted all the more bitterly hollow. “Oh, welcome, welcome!” At the sudden change in the tavern keeper’s tone, he glanced toward the entrance and saw what appeared to be three or four locals.

Among them, what stood out most was a fair-faced youth of twenty-four or twenty-five years. A handsome man, untainted by worldly affairs, standing seven feet tall in a safflower-patterned headscarf and green military robe, with one long sword at his gold-studded leather belt, approached the table with a smile. “I’ve brought friends. Proprietor, the dishes I ordered should be ready, right?” “Right away, right away! The lamb and chicken today—we are honored to have such exquisite cuts of meat—please do take your leisure.”

Their table was quickly buried under a succession of exquisite dishes being carried out. Braised meats, grilled cuts, whole fried delicacies, vegetable soups, fruit platters. Even with Pilgrim Wu stealing sidelong glances, he couldn't begin to tally the spread. "This ain't amusing..." "Hey Proprietor! Another round here!" "Your unfiltered sake refill." "Quit playin' dumb—gimme two measures from that blue-patterned jar over there." "That I cannot allow."

“Why can’t I?” “Because we’ve been entrusted with this by the young master here—once the seal’s broken, you see—” “You’re lying! Seeing as you won’t give me even a scrap of meat, you must take me for some penniless, disheveled monk and are holding back on purpose!” “This is troublesome—you’re making baseless accusations, sir. If you’re that desperate, go elsewhere and guzzle whatever ‘finest’ brew you please.”

“What did you say?” He had meant to strike lightly, but this was Wu Song’s palm after all. The tavern keeper clutched his face as he went flying sideways, crashing into the table of four and overturning it. The one who grew enraged was the fair-faced youth in a red cap and blue collar who had been presiding over the table. He abruptly stood,

“You.” “Step outside.” “Fine—I’ll come out.”

The two who leapt forward already resembled a pair of fighting cocks with their hackles raised, goading each other’s combativeness. “Pilgrim! ‘A monk should not feel anger, nor should he be greedy’—or so I’ve heard.” “Cut the crap! You some green kid from this village?”

“That’s none of your business! From what I can tell, you’re a fake monk who knows neither the path nor the shame of being one!” The words “fake monk” undoubtedly made Wu Song’s heart skip a beat. His hand darted almost unconsciously to the hilt of his monk’s blade.

However, swifter still was the figure of the youth. It was akin to the work of a flying swallow. The youth kicked up Wu Song’s hilt-gripping hand in the blink of an eye. “Taste that!” Pilgrim Wu, kicked in the elbow, seemed to immediately gauge the extent of his opponent’s strength as if in response. He didn’t need his monk’s blade. Then, deliberately showing his bare hands, he advanced. A swirling grapple erupted in an instant. The youth’s massive frame was slammed into the earth. He surged up only to be thrown down again until finally pinned beneath Pilgrim Wu’s relentless iron fists, he could no longer utter a sound.

“Pretty boy! Go wash your face and try again!” Pilgrim Wu grabbed the youth by his leather belt and hurled him into the stream in front of the tavern. The three companions turned pale and rushed toward the base of the cliff with cries of “Young Master!”, scrambling to retrieve his body. “Bwahaha! It’s like you’ve bestowed alms upon this Pilgrim!” No sooner had Pilgrim Wu entered the shop than he seized the blue-flowered wine jar—the long-coveted object of his gaze—and roared with laughter. He began guzzling down the envied nectar, emptying the jar in mere moments.

Not only that, but after devouring all the meat there to his fill, with the petrified tavern keeper in his peripheral vision, “Ah… This feels good… Winter itself fades from mind…” Staggering unsteadily, blown by the wind along the village road, he walked from beyond a pier up and down the valley stream path, oblivious even to how deep the night had grown as he hummed a tune while walking.

"Oh? A dead end?" "Hmm?"

He tried to turn back because a chaotic tangle of dead trees and bamboo—resembling a makeshift deer fence—blocked the path. However, when he hesitated even slightly, ropes and such would immediately entangle his feet. This was likely due to his heavy drunkenness as well. Pilgrim Wu slipped two or three times on the bank of the valley stream and became soaked through. The frigid valley waters of November winter—even his deep drunkenness was shaken off in an instant.

Then, countless human figures rustling overhead all laughed at once. “Just like a drunk eel thrashing about!” “He’s done thrashing about. Struggle all he wants—ain’t no way out.” They seemed to be jeering in unison.

In hindsight, it seemed a disguised fence had been erected on the main road one should have taken east after crossing the pier, and in his drunken haze, he had been lured onto a side path—the very boar trap where villagers always drove wild boars.

A whistle pierced the air. Torches converged. Before long, some seventy or eighty village guards and peasants—each clutching makeshift weapons—surrounded Pilgrim Wu using boar-hunting tactics. Though sober now, this was the tail end of utter drunkenness. Trussed to a log stretcher crisscrossed like a well crib, Pilgrim Wu’s body—arranged just like the giant tiger he’d once slain at Jingyang Ridge—was heaved through the village landlord’s gate with collective strain.

“Brother, I hear you’ve captured him successfully. Though I must say—how utterly mortifying for me.” The one who now returned to the landlord’s estate gate while uttering these words was none other than that fair-faced youth who had earlier been hurled off the streamside cliff by Pilgrim Wu.

Confronting him was his elder brother.

A man with a stern countenance and striking features—another towering figure of notable handsomeness,

“That’s why I keep saying both of us still need more training,” “It was good experience for you.” “What an incredible Pilgrim he was!” “So what became of that strange Pilgrim?” “Trussed him tight to the scholar tree in the courtyard.” “Half-conscious and mumbling nonsense.” “Let’s hear what drivel he’s spewing.” “Hey! Someone fetch a rattan whip!” Taking it from one of the village guards, the brothers stalked toward the great scholar tree in the western courtyard. Soon four or five lashes of the whining whip and their curses came raining down upon Pilgrim Wu.

"Ah... Honorable Brothers." Then, someone called out to stop them from before a pavilion resembling a study hall. Quietly, with footsteps as if strolling, he approached,

“Now, that’s enough. Isn’t it beneath you to resort to such crude methods?”

“But Master,” “This man’s a treacherous scoundrel we can’t leave be!” “It’s for setting an example to the village too.” “I have heard every detail of the affair.” “Yet when governed by fleeting passions, even we may lack prudence at times.” “And considering he’s a man skilled enough to subdue even your sworn brother—there might yet be worth finding in him.” “So you’re saying we should spare him?” “If he proves truly wicked, you may dispose of him as you will.” “But first permit me to examine this man thoroughly.” “I shall determine his nature.”

“Oh, look here. “Brother, the torch.” “I’m terribly sorry for the trouble.” Having said this, the person who leaned slightly forward toward the base of the Chinese scholar tree did not appear to be a member of this household. Moreover, he appeared to be a guest whom the brothers respected.

“Hmm…”

And then, the guest turned to face the brothers.

“The plaster on the Pilgrim’s forehead might well be an intentional blindfold—a common trick for hiding criminal tattoos,” he said. “Why don’t you try peeling it off?” “We’ve been trying since earlier,” replied the older brother. “But he bares his teeth and twists his neck—we just couldn’t get it off.” “Hmm. No need to force it.” The man circled around the scholar tree’s roots, examining Wu Song’s face. “The whip scars on his shoulders are unmistakably a convict’s marks. But...?” Wu Song immediately twisted his face away again, refusing to let them see clearly.

“Heh heh heh. “He’s not what he seems—a man still clinging.”

he said, blending contempt with derisive laughter.

At those words—perhaps provoked—he suddenly roared out,

“What?!” Wu Song jerked his face upward and fixed a sharp glare at the visage peering down at him. Then with unnatural intensity, his blazing eyes began clouding like storm-laden skies, the muscles of his face twisting so violently it seemed this peerlessly bold man might burst into tears at any instant.

"...Oh... ho! "...Oogh." “Y-You...?” “Wu Erlang...”

His lively voice cut off halfway, then rose loudly as he urged the brothers. “Untie his ropes at once, and care for him with genuine compassion." “This is my sworn brother.” “Guh! He’s the Master’s sworn brother, you say?” “Well, as wanted posters have been circulating in this area, you must be aware—he is the Tiger-Slaying Wu Song.” “That’s the man who beat a ferocious tiger to death on Jingyang Ridge.” What astonished the brothers—though these brothers themselves did not appear to be mere sons of a mountain-dwelling landlord—was how this guest, living idly there in this single study hall, could know Pilgrim Wu Song so well despite him now having no place left in society to hide his body, and even call him “my sworn brother.” What manner of man was this guest in truth?

Even greenwood outlaws do not devour a true man.

Along with the incident of the imperiled women's sedan chair.

One must never abandon oneself too readily. Just as one cannot know their immediate fate, so too can it often be said that an imminent reversal remains beyond prediction or understanding.

Tonight, Wu Song was that very case. A quarter of an hour later, he was abruptly elevated from deadly bonds to being honored as a guest in the guest quarters of that house. In the bathhouse, his injured areas were treated, and his undergarments and sashes were all replaced with new ones. “To think I would meet you here, Master?”

Wu Song repeated this many times, letting out a deep sigh at the marvels of human fate's vicissitudes and chance encounters. The person who, upon seeing him, had exclaimed "-This is my sworn brother!" in astonishment and immediately ordered the household brothers to have his ropes untied was none other than Clerk Song-the Timely Rain Song Jiang-who had vanished from public knowledge after leaving his hometown of Song Family Village in Yuncheng County. In the past, through a strange incident involving Wu Song, they had left unforgettable impressions on each other and had even sworn an oath of brotherhood on the spot.

That was the mansion of Xiao Xuanfeng Chai Jin in Cangzhou. After fleeing his hometown and becoming a guest there, Song Jiang once wandered through the dark corridors of the mansion, stepped on the foot of a man suffering from malaria, and was yelled at.

That was Wu Song. Through their host Chai Jin’s mediation, they shared drinks that night and spent several days together—learning what a truly delightful man he was—but soon after, Wu Song departed on a journey to seek his brother. Yet from then on, Wu Song’s name rose high in the jianghu through one incident after another. Even while separated, Song Jiang had always heard the rumors: “Still at it, I see.”

“But to encounter Wu Song here at the Kong family’s White Tiger Mountain?” Song Jiang himself appeared thoroughly astonished that night. No—those even more startled were the Kong family’s young brothers, who had only just realized Wu Song’s identity and his connection to Song Jiang upon seeing him before their very eyes,

“Master. Please let us apologize to Lord Wu Song. We never imagined—not even in our darkest dreams—that we’d show such unforgivable disrespect. We have no words to atone.” They kowtowed repeatedly, their bodies trembling with unceasing terror. “We are but mortal men,” Song Jiang mediated.

“Wu Song, let this mark the beginning of our sworn brotherhood.” “This venerable house of White Tiger Mountain stands before you. The one you met at the village tavern this noon was our younger brother Kong Liang, styled Lone Fire Star. And here sits our elder brother Kong Ming, honored as Hairy Head Star.”

“This is…” Wu Song humbly began to kneel on the floor, but the brothers took his hands from both sides,

“Not at all! Please remain in the seat of honor. The renowned name of Tiger-Slaying Wu Song resounds like thunder, and we have long heard tell of your many deeds steeped in unwavering righteousness.”

Without delay, even the old master of the Kong family emerged, extending every courtesy in their hospitality. Thus during the week Wu Song had been kept at the Kong residence, he learned of Song Jiang's circumstances—that he too planned to soon depart from his guest status at this household and move to another county. "In truth, since then, the investigation into me back home has largely cooled off, so my younger brother Song Qing has now returned to our house in Song Family Village."

With that premise established, Song Jiang spoke his mind.

“...Well, I have been receiving occasional letters from my brother Song Qing. There is a magistrate in Qingfeng Town of this county called Hua Rong, known as Little Li Guang.” “He has been most insistent that I come to Qingfeng Town.” “Given our longstanding acquaintance and his persistent urging, I’ve explained matters to the Kong family and mean to depart for there soon—” “Master—if I might ask an impertinence—are the Kongs truly content with this arrangement?”

“Hmm.” “I’ve been teaching swordplay and military science to the Kong brothers here—Kong Liang and Kong Ming—but I’ve already taught them most of what this teacher has to offer.” “What say you, Wu Song? Why not change course and come with me to Qingfeng Town?” “No—let’s not.” “Why?”

“Unlike the offense of killing a woman—akin to the transgression you recently committed, Master—the crimes I, Wu Song, have perpetrated resemble a hell where one is hounded through pools of blood and mountains of needles.” “I cannot let you be entangled in this—should a day of universal amnesty ever come, we might meet again openly then.” “Then you too nurture hope—that someday you’ll submit to the authorities and become an upright citizen?” “Well now, Master—anyone would harbor such hopes.” “Yet isn’t it precisely the officials of this Song dynasty who warp those very hopes, driving folk like us ever deeper into wickedness?”

“Well, corrupt officials may run rampant, but good ones do exist.” “If you maintain even a shred of sincere heart, heaven’s aid will surely come someday.” “An evil reign won’t last too much longer either.”

Song Jiang said. Despite wandering through such circumstances, he still had not lost his own gentlemanly demeanor.

About five days later, the Kong family held a family-wide farewell banquet for the two departing travelers. Naturally, from the old master down to the brothers, they had endeavored by all means to persuade them to stay; but having no choice but to resign themselves to their guests' resolute departure—expressed as "looking forward to future connections"—they heaped up parting gifts of clothing and silver, turning this into a grand send-off banquet.

Furthermore, the brothers Kong Ming and Kong Liang brought retainers and escorted them along their path for twenty li. And when facing the moment of parting,

"We pray that someday we may see the day of our reunion come." With that, they returned homeward, glancing back over their shoulders again and again.

Now, though their traveling party had been reduced to just the two of them, Wu Song’s destination was Two Dragons Mountain, and Song Jiang was bound for Qingfeng Town. “We too will soon be heading west and east.”

The stalwart men’s hearts hung heavy with loneliness as they looked back at each other and exchanged faint smiles.

Several days later, they arrived at a certain rural town. When they inquired about the name of the place, it was Ruilong Town. “Incidentally, which way to Two Dragons Mountain?” “And how do we reach Qingfeng Town?” When they asked,

“This is exactly where the road forks. If you head far west from the town’s edge, you’ll reach Two Dragons Mountain.” “Take the eastern road and cross Qingfeng Mountain—beyond the pass, you’ll immediately see Qingfeng Town’s official fortress in the town there.” Such were the directions.

“Well, it’s finally time to part ways.” The two men lingered regretfully at the tavern, pouring modest drinks. As he held his cup, Song Jiang grew concerned that Wu Song’s excessive righteous fury and reckless courage stemmed chiefly from alcohol’s influence. “You must cherish wine yet drink prudently,” he admonished earnestly. “Never let liquor consume you until it ruins what makes you a true hero.” When they settled the tavern bill and opened their travel bundles, they discovered—to their surprise—fifty taels of silver nestled in both Song Jiang’s belongings and Wu Song’s pilgrim pack. This could only be the Kong brothers’ thoughtful preparation. Once more they bowed toward the Kong estate in gratitude before finally parting ways—one turning westward, the other east.

There, Pilgrim Wu Song's whereabouts were left for later.

Heading alone toward Qingfeng Mountain, Song Jiang soon found himself approaching a mountain path. Contrary to its name suggesting gentleness, this peak revealed itself as anything but mild. He stood at the pass surveying the land, where sheer cliffs rose on all sides of a precipitous valley. A mountain stream roared through some unseen crevice, its echoes reverberating fearsomely. Ancient trees bore ivy vines that coiled like a thousand black snakes. A sika deer leapt away, startled by human footsteps. Shadowy figures of monkeys shrieked eerily as they followed from treetop to treetop, displaying unnatural interest in the traveler. Drawn by nature's raw fascination, Song Jiang continued walking deeper into the wilderness.

However, when he entered the dim path through the primeval forest, suddenly at his feet came the sound of a bell—cling... cling... cling-cling.

"Hm?" While disentangling the kudzu vines coiled around his foot, his fate had already changed. A group of leopard-like men and women—some twenty or thirty strong—swarmed in, bound his body in a tangled mass, and hauled him off somewhere.

There too lay a den of greenwood bandits. Against a backdrop of caves, they had constructed a mountain stronghold worthy of being called a bandit palace; its chief was a man surnamed Yan, named Shun, who went by the nickname Brocade-Tiger. He had originally been a horse and sheep trader in Shandong's Laizhou. Furthermore, as for his right-hand lieutenants:

Wang Aihu—a cruel and merciless man; short and agile, a former cart-puller born in Lianghuai. There was also another man—Zheng Tianshou, born in Suzhou, a fallen young master from a silversmith family with a pallid complexion and lanky frame, who also went by the nickname White-Faced Gentleman. These three bandit chiefs, each with distinct appearances, had been engrossed in gambling within one of the mountain stronghold's caves when their subordinate's report came, paying it no heed. "What? You've caught fine prey." "Tie him to one of those pillars." "What to do can wait until we've examined the captive properly later."

And so, they left him unattended until evening.

And when they grew bored with that and began drinking, midway through their cups Wang Aihu declared, “Right! Our boys tied up today’s catch earlier,” and had Song Jiang dragged before them—a man of such dignified bearing rarely seen in mountain strongholds. “A bit dark-skinned, but…” Wang Aihu licked his lips and signaled to the other two with his eyes. At that time, while the culture of the Song Dynasty was already demonstrating splendid development at its imperial and metropolitan centers, in the remote regions of the uncivilized continent, barbaric customs such as cannibalism still persisted in certain areas. Particularly, there existed a superstition that human livers were delicious and served as potency tonics, and it was said that to extract such livers, one should first douse them mercilessly with cold water to disperse the organ’s hot blood before gouging them out.

“Right. Make the preparations!” “Get it ready!” With that, Brocade-Tiger immediately ordered his subordinates to prepare the raw liver dish. Meanwhile, the White-Faced Gentleman—who had brought Song Jiang’s belongings to the table and been meticulously examining them—showed a scrap of paper to Brocade-Tiger Yan Shun beside him with wide-eyed astonishment, for there was Song Jiang’s name. “Hey! Take those things back for now!”

Yan Shun suddenly bellowed. After hastily sending away the subordinates who had brought in the large chopping block for liver extraction, kitchen knives, water buckets, and such, he turned to question Song Jiang.

“Traveler,” “Your name?” “I am Song Gongming.” “That’s a name quite similar to Song Jiang the Timely Rain from Yuncheng County’s Song Family Village.” “I am that Song Jiang.” “Who do you think you are?” “I am.” “So you’re saying you’re the addressee of this letter?”

“There aren’t two Song Jiangs in Song Family Village.” “Gah! Then you’re—” Yan Shun and the two other bandit leaders were so astonished they nearly lost their footing. Among their ranks, the name of Song Jiang the Timely Rain seemed to hold immense weight as an object of benevolence and reverence. It seemed those who dwelled deepest in darkness yearned most fiercely for a true human among humans to submit to from the heart, and for a light worthy of sincere worship. By no means were they in any state to consider devouring his raw liver now.

The next day, they informed all their subordinates, had them observe the etiquette due to an honored guest, seated him upon a leopard-skin chair, and the three bandit chiefs humbled themselves below, “We wish for you to stay in this mountain stronghold for as long as you desire—until you grow weary of it.”

It was such a drastic change. And when they heard from Song Jiang's own lips about Wu Song, it was all the more—

“What a waste! If Chief Constable Wu Song had come here instead of going to Two Dragons Mountain, we might’ve welcomed him with roaring cheers—like missing a once-in-a-thousand-years chance.” Lamenting this, they detained Song Jiang even more firmly and showed him such hospitality day after day that it seemed they were serving him. However, Song Jiang had no intention of idling about forever, being entertained with bandit fare. Moreover, he was also on his way to visit Commander Hua Rong in Qingfeng Town. He had merely ended up staying seven or eight days against his will.

Before they knew it, the season had already reached the beginning of La Yue [the twelfth month]. In this Shandong region, there existed a custom of visiting ancestral graves on the eighth day of La Yue [the twelfth month]. “Boss!” With great urgency that day, several subordinates who had returned from the mountain path at the foot reported: “She was quite a beauty, I tell ya.” “Probably today’s tomb-sweeping.” “The woman rode in a woman’s sedan chair, accompanied by about seven attendants carrying two stacked offering boxes and flowers parading down the main road.” They had relayed this to where Wang Aihu was. Aihu, ever the lecher, no sooner heard—

“Really?” His eyes blazing, he immediately set about gathering forty or fifty subordinates. Ignoring Song Jiang and Yan Shun’s attempts to stop them, they set out with spears and swords hoisted high, their gongs and horns blaring pompously, to hunt down the woman. “Hmm… What had happened?” “Once he had heard, he couldn’t let it go—something was nagging at him.”

Near evening, Song Jiang suddenly recalled the matter of the woman he had overheard during the day. When he asked Wang Aihu’s subordinates, they said that after driving away the seven or eight soldiers accompanying the woman’s sedan chair, Wang Aihu had taken the woman—still in her sedan chair—into his own residence and kept her there ever since.

He immediately went to Yan Shun’s place, “Whether she’s a married woman or maiden, hiding women away is a grave sin.” “This isn’t how righteous heroes who live by honor act.” “It hardly befits your sworn brother.” “Well, you see…” Yan Shun flushed with shame as if the disgrace were his own. “He’s a man who never yields in battle—but that very quality is his sickness.” “What say we go together and counsel him?”

When pressed, he had no choice but to comply.

Yan Shun and Bai Mianlang took the lead and guided him to Short Tiger’s lair in the mountain shadows near the stronghold.

When they knocked on the door, there was a flustered commotion inside; Wang Aihu’s face bore an expression that seemed to say, “Terrible timing.” He must have been in the midst of being confronted. In a corner of the earthen-floored area lay the disheveled figure of a woman prostrate on the ground, her unadorned hair in disarray. “…………” In that awkward moment of silence came a fleeting glimpse—the woman’s snow-white mourning robes, befitting a lady from a proper household, suited her all too well. Even without rouge or powder, her figure was etched with an indescribably alluring charm.

"Pardon me, madam. "There's no need to tremble. Where is your home?" The woman looked up fearfully at Song Jiang's figure. "Honored chief. Please save me. I—I am the wife of Qingfeng Town's governor." "Huh. You're saying you're the governor's esteemed wife?"

"Yes. Today being the La Yue pilgrimage, I had returned from visiting my mother’s grave," she said. "Not knowing of this misfortune, how anxiously my husband must be worrying." "What a coincidence," Song Jiang responded. "I had intended to visit Governor Hua’s residence in the coming days myself. I am not the leader of these bandits here." "No!..." She shook her head violently. "That’s mistaken—she isn’t Governor Hua’s wife," Song Jiang corrected. "Why do you say that?" she asked.

“There are two governors in Qingfeng Town,” “One is a military governor.” “My husband is the civil governor.” “My husband is Civil Governor Liu Gao.” “Ah.” Song Jiang nodded. Then he immediately turned to Wang Aihu: “Brother Wang.” “Huh?” “What?” “I have a request—will you hear it?” “I get it already! Gimme a break.” “You’re tellin’ me to let the woman go.” “But I ain’t got no wife.” “Cut me some slack here, will ya?”

“But upon inquiring now, she proves to be the lawful wife of a civil official, does she not? There’s no need to inflict such weeping upon people.”

“No—with this woman here, I’ve already fallen head over heels at first sight. Governor or not, I’ll fight ’em!”

“Come now, no need for such bluster,” said Song Jiang, maintaining his formal register while addressing Wang Aihu’s rough speech patterns. “I make this request.” He pressed his knees to the ground and bowed deeply to Wang Aihu, startling both Yan Shun and Bai Mianlang into exclaiming: “Such deference is unworthy of you!” “Please rise from your knees!” “Not at all,” Song Jiang persisted, remaining prostrate. “She is the wife of an associate of Governor Hua, my acquaintance. I cannot forsake her in this crisis.” His voice hardened with resolve as he negotiated: “Brother Wang—let us strike a bargain. Should you truly desire a wife, I pledge to personally find you a suitable match and arrange full bridal preparations. Therefore...” He lifted his head, eyes sharp beneath lowered brows. “Release this lady. I implore you.”

After being pressed this far, even Wang Aihu had no choice but to reluctantly suck his finger and concede. Of course, Yan Shun and Bai Mianlang too urgently pressed this course, and though an awkward tension lingered, the affair had finally reached its provisional conclusion.

The woman, hastily straightening her appearance while repeatedly bowing in gratitude, entered the palanquin. The palanquin bearers too felt they had narrowly escaped death. No sooner had they shouldered the poles than they flew down the mountain—.

Now, here in Qingfeng Town, the streets were already lit past dusk.

But just as the palanquin came racing up to the city walls, seventy or eighty soldiers came charging from the distance, clamoring loudly. The soldiers all together greeted the palanquin, “Ah, Madam! You’ve returned unharmed!”

“Ah, Madam hasn’t suffered any injuries.” The wife, having realized they were her husband’s subordinates,

“Did you all come searching for me out of concern?” “That’s correct!” In unison, the soldiers cried, “Oh Madam—Governor Liu’s worry knew no bounds! ‘Since night had fallen and you still hadn’t returned,’ he declared, ‘the Qingfeng Mountain bandits must have abducted you.’” “Because of that, we got a terrible scolding—‘What are you all doing?!’—and were roared at that if anything happened, the platoon leader would be hanged and every soldier’s pay docked.”

“Very well. You all needn’t concern yourselves.”

Madam haughtily displayed her resplendent dignity to the soldiers. "There's no doubt bandits attacked me, but when I told them 'I'm Governor Liu's wife,' they cowered in fear—couldn't lay a finger on me..." "Since you all look so pitiful, I'll put in a good word with the Governor for you." "We humbly beg your favor."

“Madam,” came their gratitude. She basked in a hundred soldierly bows, drunk on queenly triumph as her palanquin surged through official gates amid thronging crowds. Her husband Liu Gao saw his wife and— “You! Returned unharmed?” “How?” He crushed her against his armor. “Your prestige saved me,” she murmured into his embrace. “When bandits learned I was Governor Liu’s wife...” “Then our troops came roaring—” “They scattered like morning mist!” “Commend these brave men.”

Such was the curious nature of feminine psychology. These very lies appeared to become stimulating pleasures that flattered her self-regard.

Then several days later—at a crossroads in Qingfeng Town’s bustling streets—he stood,

"Hmm, which way should I go?"

There was a traveler with a contemplative look. Song Gongming—it was Song Jiang.

Though the members of the mountain stronghold had persistently tried to detain him, on that day he was finally seen off to the foot of the mountain by Yan Shun the Jinmaohu and those under him. Parting ways with them, he entered the streets of Zhencheng alone.

The town was situated in the strategic location of Qingzhou Qingfeng Stronghold, exhibiting considerable prosperity as the starting point of three highways connecting various prefectures, with four to five thousand households, its garrison headquarters standing on a slightly elevated area.

“Ah.” “Commander Hua’s residence?” replied a passerby to Song Jiang’s inquiry, gesturing toward the garrison headquarters. “Facing Garrison Avenue—the official residence on the south side belongs to Civil Official Liu—and just beyond on the north side stands Your Excellency Hua Rong’s estate.”

“Thank you.” Song Jiang eventually stood before the grand gate and, presenting his name card through the guards, requested an audience.

He was immediately ushered to the reception room and, without even waiting,

“Ah, you’ve come all this way!” He heard before him the cheerful voice of Little Li Guang Hua Rong himself. This young general had white teeth and bright eyes; his tall frame—free of excess fat and all muscle—resembled a steed bred to gallop a thousand leagues. Clad in a battle robe embroidered with dazzling gold and emerald, his slender waist cinched by Commander Wu’s sword belt and further adorned with a rhinoceros horn for sounding commands, he approached with light steps in pale yellow leather boots,

“It’s been too long.” “Truly, it’s been an age.”

and warmly clasped his guest's hand with nostalgic intensity. In the flower-decorated lanterns, witch's eyes glittered,

Once more, there were troubles with women for the noble Song Jiang.

The families of Little Li Guang Hua Rong and Song Jiang of Song Family Village had been bound by deep-rooted ties since time immemorial. Thus regarding the personal transgression committed by Song Jiang. Hua Rong had been fully aware of his subsequent wandering circumstances and, deeply concerned in secret, had often sent messages to Song Jiang's hometown urging, "You must come here—I will shelter you no matter what." "Presuming upon your kind invitation," said Song Jiang, "I have boldly come."

To Song Jiang, who had said this, Hua Rong waved his hand broadly,

“What’s with the formalities? Now make yourself at home—think of this as your own residence. Actually, I should introduce you to my wife Cui-shi. And her younger sister too.” The official residence was lavishly appointed yet surprisingly unpretentious. From that day forward, Song Jiang was given a garden-facing room complete with attendants and maidservants—far beyond mere guest treatment. Each evening when Hua Rong returned from military duties, the nights transformed into warm family banquets.

“Brother Hua,” said Song Jiang. “Your hospitality overwhelms me. Truly, I’d be grateful if you treated me like family and let me be.” Hua Rong waved his hand. “What’s with the formality? Hearing tales each night from your own lips—of those eccentric heroes roaming the wide world—it’s pure delight.” His eyes sparkled. “Truly delightful.”

“I see.” “Ah—that reminds me—”

“Do you have another unusual tale to share?” “Regarding the three bandit leaders of Qingfeng Mountain—I mentioned them to you the other day.” “Hmm. I did hear about that.” “Actually, I had not yet mentioned this—the wife of Civil Official Liu Gao was in grave danger there, and I saved her.” “Oh….” “Liu Gao is a colleague, but…” “When I heard she was a friend’s wife, I felt all the more compelled to save her, but they tried to take the woman for themselves. But when the bandit Wang Aihu refused to listen, I finally managed to placate him and sent him on his way without further trouble.”

Then, Hua Rong slightly furrowed his brows.

“You shouldn’t have done such an unnecessary thing!” His expression clearly showed displeasure. When Song Jiang thumped his chest and pressed him, “I don’t wish to speak ill of a colleague,” Hua Rong continued, “but Liu Gao and that wife of his have rather unsavory reputations.” “To put it bluntly, they’re both cunning and greedy.” “He’s a bribe-loving official who extorts the wealthy and bullies the poor—a civil servant with no redeeming qualities.” “And as for that wife—she’s like a bundle of vanity.” “There was no need to help someone like that.”

His tone practically declared she’d be better suited as a bandit’s wife. But Song Jiang laughed and,

“Women and petty men—nothing unusual there. Resentments should be dissolved, not nurtured. When you next meet Liu Gao at the garrison headquarters, make sure to casually mention this to him.” “Ah, I’ll certainly tell him.”

“Even a petty man would not forget being saved from peril.” “Naturally, he must hold goodwill toward you hereafter.”

Hua Rong was impressed. At Song Jiang’s magnanimous attitude—one that refused to harbor hatred toward others no matter what—Hua Rong naturally found himself bowing his head in respect. He was not alone in this. Song Jiang frequently ventured out to visit Buddhist temples and bustling markets in the suburbs, yet he never once made the attendants Hua Rong assigned him pay so much as a copper coin for food, drink, or anything else—indeed, this became part of their earnings. “No ordinary guest,” “A man of refined grace,” “Such kindness he shows.” Even among the lowliest servants, this favorable impression spread like wildfire.

Before one knew it, the year dawned, and the town was filled with the spirit of early spring.

The Lantern Festival of the 15th day of the First Lunar Month centered around the grounds of Dawang Temple, and the entire town of Zhencheng bustled with crowds. At the crossroads stood lantern gates; from every eave to the approach of Dawang Temple, thousands of flower lanterns painted the scene with color. Street stalls showcasing arts, dragon god dances, lion parades—all through the night until the moon waned, it was customary for men and women of all stations to indulge in revelry. "Ah... These painted lanterns are fascinating." Hibiscus lanterns, lotus lanterns, lily lanterns, white peony lanterns. Had the townspeople vied with their brushes here as well? "...Jade plum designs, golden lotus motifs—each seems like an extravagant display of skill."

While being jostled in the human current, Song Jiang strolled leisurely with two or three attendants from the official residence, Spring moon—do not hasten Children of men—cherish this night Avenue of Firelight Trees stretches A bridge of stars spans rainbow-hued flower fields Forget—all people—the mortal world’s burning house Muttering these rare faint verses—uncharacteristic of him—he wandered buoyantly through the sights.

As he did so, he was swept into a fierce human whirlpool and, without intending to, found himself inside the gate. He found himself among a troupe of clown dancers and the crowd clinging to their wake. And Song Jiang too, along with the surrounding men and women, became distracted by the clown dancers and burst into laughter. At that moment, overwhelmed by the hilarity, young and old alike clapped their hands and cheered.

However, in a raised seating area behind them sat resplendent figures—their profiles glowing under flower lanterns as they lifted jade cups. These were none other than Civil Official Magistrate Liu and his wife. It was the wife who first noticed, her eyes widening as she gasped, “Oh?” “You!” She tugged at his sleeve urgently. “See that dark-skinned man there—the slender one clapping and laughing? That’s him! He’s the leader of the Qingfeng Mountain bandits!”

“What—the leader of the bandits who tried to harm you the other day—is that black slave?”

“That’s right—I could never forget!”

Liu Gao, startled, immediately ordered the soldier captain waiting below.

“That man is a bandit! Seize that dark-skinned man!” Realizing the strange cries around him signaled impending danger, Song Jiang instantly shoved through the crowd and fled into the distance. However, escape proved impossible. In an instant, he was overtaken, and his entire body was bound so tightly that hemp rope left deep marks on his flesh.

The next morning arrived. He was taken down to the first floor of the official residence and faced Magistrate Liu's thunderous rebuke from the upper corridor.

“Bandit leader! Raise your face!” Liu Gao thundered. “You thought hiding among lantern viewers would keep you unrecognized? Know this—Heaven’s net may be vast, but none escape its weave. Are you cowed?” Song Jiang lifted his face still bearing the haze of last night’s indulgence. “With respect,” he said, “I am Zhang San of Yuncheng County—Commander Hua’s guest. I’ve no memory of banditry.” “Silence! Qingfeng Mountain filth! We’ve witnesses!”

At her husband’s words, the wife emerged from behind the screen at the corridor entrance with a rustle of elegant robes, her willow-leaf eyebrows arched sharply as she spoke. "You! Have you forgotten me?"

“Ah—Madam!” “Look here.” “How dare you threaten me relentlessly at the mountain stronghold?” “There were three other leaders present, but you were clearly the most revered one.” “You’re their chief, aren’t you?” “Absurd! Madam—” “Might you have forgotten something yourself?” “What drivel!” “Don’t speak to me with such insolence!” “I remember persuading three bandit leaders to spare you, but calling me their chief is outrageous.” “Why must you stain your benefactor’s name with this infamy?”

“Oh, how shamelessly you feign ignorance! You—such a vile creature! No ordinary method will make you confess!”

“No—I’ll make you talk.” “Men! Beat her down!”

At that very moment when he issued the command to his nearby subordinates. The gate guard came running,

“At this moment, Commander Hua’s messenger has arrived and awaits your reply,” he said, presenting a letter to him.

“Hmm...” Suppressing his breath, he began to read through it.

“The Liu Zhang whom I hear was detained at your esteemed residence last night is a kinsman of my household who recently came from Jizhou. Though being a country fellow he may have unwittingly trespassed against your honored authority, I earnestly entreat you to show leniency in consideration of our usual goodwill. I shall personally come to express my deepest gratitude—this humble petition.” “Respectfully submitted, Little Li Guang Hua Rong” “What nonsense! The man claims to be Zhang San of Yuncheng County, yet Hua Rong’s letter calls him Liu Zhang of Jizhou—either way, it’s all fabrication.” “What? The messenger awaits?” “No reply!” “Send them away!”

And then, he immediately ordered preparations for a prison cart and began procedures to transfer Song Jiang—under the bandit alias Zhang San, the Tiger of Yuncheng—to the prefectural office.

Throughout the night, Hua Rong had not slept a wink. No—Hua Rong himself had been invited to another household’s banquet during the Lantern Festival and only learned of Song Jiang’s calamity upon returning at dawn.

“Day after day—I won’t endure this anymore!”

Upon hearing the messenger's report—who had been subjected to nothing but Liu Gao's vile abuse and driven back—Hua Rong erupted in fury like raging flames and immediately,

“Bring the horses!”

He donned his armor and sounded a rhinoceros-horn flute from horseback. Leading troops that had rushed from the training ground barracks, he stormed toward Liu Gao’s nearby official residence. Upon hearing this, Liu Gao trembled violently in his inner chambers. Though bearing the same commander title, this opponent stood one rank lower—yet he was a military officer who commanded real soldiers. Even with higher civil rank, a bureaucrat could never match such force. “Where is Commander Liu?” “I demand to meet you and settle this!”

Hua Rong shouted from outside, but when there was no response whatsoever, he finally lost all patience and—

“It appears deserted.” “Enough! Search the house and rescue our honored guest!” he ordered. The soldiers surged in. Reason had no place here now. Rampage followed as night follows day. They found Song Jiang in the end, cut his bonds and freed him, “Liu dogs! Voice your grievances if you dare!” “I’ll answer your challenge any hour!”

With a war cry, they withdrew like a receding tide. Afterwards, Liu Gao and his wife,

“You bastards! How dare you disgrace us like this!” Stomping their feet in bitter frustration, they even enlisted their clan’s aid and dispatched approximately two hundred soldiers that very night to launch a counterattack at Hua Rong’s official residence. The defenders and attackers clashed in scattered skirmishes throughout the dead of night. Among Liu Gao’s attacking forces were two fierce martial arts instructors, and as these men took command, their momentum grew fierce. “Ready your bows!” At dawn, Hua Rong deliberately had the main gate forced open wide in a splayed shape,

“Liu family rabble! If you value your lives not, then come straight through here!” He nocked a large-headed arrow onto his powerful bow with a sharp click. The attacking forces outside the gate falteringly recoiled. Hua Rong once more raised his voice thunderously, “Not coming, huh? Any of you. “Then keep your eyes wide open and watch!” “On both pillars of that gate over there—the images of Qin Qiong and Yuchi Jingde, the Two Door Gods—are pasted, right?” “…………” “First, with this first arrow, I’ll shoot through the right Qin Qiong’s fist.”

At his words, a sharp twang of the bowstring struck everyone’s ears. The arrow stood embedded in the Right Door God’s fist as if by sorcery. “Next―” Hua Rong nocked his second arrow and bellowed, “This time I’ll pierce the dead center of Left Yuchi Jingde’s helmet! Don’t let your eyes pop from their sockets!” With a shrill whistle, air split in a razor line. The crowd, jolted to awareness, saw the arrow jutting from Left Yuchi Jingde’s helmet and erupted in an involuntary clamor of awe.

However, Hua Rong already had a third arrow nocked and ready. And aiming the nocked arrow toward the attacking forces, he shouted. "That one in the red battle robe and white armor among them—those must be the hired instructors. Prepare yourselves." "Gah!" With that, their shadows vanished instantly, and simultaneously, the two hundred attackers scattered like spiderlings and collapsed in chaos. Considering that the cause of this great commotion lay within himself, given Song Jiang’s character, he could no longer remain composed and watch this.

That night, Song Jiang told Hua Rong: "Brother Hua, your gracious kindness is something I shall never forget—keenly felt. Yet I must now take my leave."

“Huh? Why?” “You’ve come to fear a mere Liu Gao?”

“It is not that I fear for myself.” “You hold military authority; he holds civil office.” “I dread the erosion of bureaucratic order.” “Nor can I ignore how this personal rancor between you might fester.” “But Magistrate Liu was born without honor! If we don’t break his habits now, they’ll calcify.” “No, no—as the proverb teaches, ‘Swallow without letting food lodge in your throat.’” “Grudges remake men into beasts of retribution.” “However they recoil today from your bow’s might, they won’t stay cowed.”

“So what if they come attacking a hundred times over?” “Please desist. In the end, this would only add to Song Jiang’s karmic burden. Moreover, the mistake lay in my giving the false name Zhang San while you wrote ‘Magistrate Liu’ in your letter.” “I used the same Liu surname thinking those literate enough to notice the characters might show sympathy.”

“But if this ever becomes an official matter,” Song Jiang continued, “we can’t deny having fabricated lies. In any case, once I leave this place, things will resolve themselves naturally.” “But in your condition...” “The pain from Liu’s lackeys beating my legs and back means nothing.” “Yet even if you depart, you have no immediate destination in mind?” “There’s no alternative. Though less than ideal, I’ll take temporary shelter at Qingfeng Mountain’s stronghold. Once my wounds heal, I’ll find somewhere to settle.” Song Jiang’s voice carried grim resolve. “Wherever a man goes, there’s a green hill for his grave. But as a warrior now, I take no pleasure in garrisons meant to protect peace becoming arenas of conflict.”

Thus, he applied medicated plasters to various parts of his body and wrapped bandages around his elbows and ankles before bidding farewell to Hua Rong’s family that night. Hua Rong reluctantly assigned ten soldiers to escort him to Qingfeng Mountain’s foothills.

However, Song Jiang’s hopes proved futile. On the mountain path thereafter, he was once again surrounded by a band of strangely attired men and that very night, carried back through one of the gates of Zhengtai Avenue.

The sinister and insidiously cunning Liu Gao, anticipating such a possibility, had stationed lookouts at all gates of the Hua residence, his crafty scheme succeeding exactly as planned,

“How’s that? Just as planned!”

he had secretly prided himself alone on this success. As for such an outcome,Hua Rong hadn't even dreamed of it. Afterwards,Liu Gao did not return, "Hmm?" He merely regarded it with suspicion. And he simply assumed Song Jiang had managed to escape to Qingfeng Mountain. Meanwhile,Liu Gao had crafted a petition filled with cleverly fabricated evidence.He made his most trusted retainer carry its sealed document and submit it to Murong Yanda,the Magistrate of Qingzhou Prefecture.

×　　　　　　　　　×

Within the three thousand women of Emperor Huizong’s harem existed a favored concubine called Consort Murong. The Magistrate of Qingzhou was this consort’s elder brother—a man bearing the two-character surname Murong and two-character given name Yanda. By exploiting his sister’s imperial favor in reverse, he wielded formidable influence. “What? A petition from Magistrate Liu? Show it to me.”

Murong took the document from his aide’s hand, read it over more than once, then snapped the lid of the document box shut. “According to this,” he said, “Hua Rong of Zhencheng has privatized the military to exploit the people’s wealth, and even colluded with Qingfeng Mountain’s bandit leader to engage in all manner of nefarious activities…” “Hua Rong is the son of a meritorious official from the capital,” he continued, “and Liu Gao is a formidable civil official.” “Hmm... This is quite a predicament.”

After careful consideration, he declared: “However, I cannot leave this unattended. Summon Huang Xin.”

Thus it was decided. Huang Xin, Chief of Security for the Provincial Army—nicknamed Suppressor of Three Mountains—promptly arrived and knelt before Your Excellency Murong, performing the *gongcha* salute.

Within the jurisdiction of the province there had long been three treacherous mountain ranges that plagued security efforts since ancient times. The first was Qingfeng Mountain, the second Two Dragons Mountain, and the third Peach Blossom Mountain. All were steep mountains—rugged cloud-veiled lairs of bandits and highwaymen. Yet Huang Xin, peerless in martial skill and physical strength, had volunteered to lead the security forces while boasting “When I emerge, not a demon’s cry shall echo through these Three Mountains!” Thus people bestowed upon him the nickname “Suppressor of Three Mountains.” “Huang Xin!” Murong rebuked. “Daily you’ve boasted ‘When I emerge, not a demon’s cry shall echo through these Three Mountains!’ Yet behold this disgrace!”

Murong Yanda read Liu Gao’s petition aloud to him and issued this command: “If mountain lair bandits collude with garrison commanders, this chaos amounts to anarchy! Go forth at once and resolve this matter decisively.” Huang Xin’s heroic bluster crumbled before this order. With a terrified gasp he withdrew, then immediately led a hundred government soldiers through moonlit roads—golden armor gleaming and longsword swaying as he rode—until dismounting before Liu Gao’s mansion on Qingfeng Town’s Garrison Avenue.

Eyes lying in wait—eyes and eyes and eyes. Next came the matter of the cage cart in the dead forest.

“I am truly at a loss to express my shame this time.” Civil Official Liu Gao was naturally sociable. He ushered the single-mindedly martial Huang Xin into the guest chamber of the official residence and said with utmost deference, “Our inadequate local governance has troubled Your Excellency’s office with this dispatch, forcing us to request your urgent journey through the night—a matter of deepest shame for us.” His wife eventually adorned herself in fine attire to meet the distinguished guest, and that night, the couple jointly hosted a welcoming banquet. Moreover, the hundred government soldiers Huang Xin had brought with him were being treated to a grand feast in the public mansion’s garden.

Though he could not forget the burden of his mission, even Huang Xin found himself in not entirely unpleasant spirits. The on-site inquiries into the circumstances had been completed over wine. Particularly, Liu Gao’s wife was eloquent. “Very well—no, I understand perfectly,” he declared. “Tomorrow without delay, I shall summon Hua Rong to the garrison’s main stronghold and carry out a decisive judgment.”

Huang Xin thus declared. Flattered by the couple’s hospitality and constrained by his position of authority, he unwittingly fell into the illusion that he had no choice but to comply.

Meanwhile.

It was the morning after.

To the official residence of Military Officer Hua Rong came a small squad of government soldiers bearing a warrant issued in the name of Huang Xin, Chief of Security of Qingzhou Prefecture,

“We request your presence at the garrison by noon.” With that, they casually delivered their message and departed.

Though styled as an official warrant, its wording bore an intensely personal tone: "Recent persistent rumors within Qingfeng Town speak of unceasing discord between Your Excellency the military officer and Civil Official Liu Gao. Magistrate Murong of Qingzhou has been deeply troubled by this matter. By His Excellency's decree, I have been charged to mediate an amicable reconciliation between both parties and unite civil-military hearts to further public governance achievements. Ten thousand words shall find expression through reverent posture—I now await bearing this command within the main stronghold's chamber."

Thus it read. However, Hua Rong’s wife and sister, with worried looks, bustled about attending to his preparations but persisted in saying— “Do you think it’s safe?” “Could something have happened?” “Since I have nothing to feel guilty about, I can act with integrity.” “But there’s the matter of Master Song Jiang’s situation.” “That Master Song Jiang has already come to detest this place and departed for Qingfeng Mountain.” “All that too arose from Madam Liu’s poisonous tongue and Liu Gao’s timidity.” “We’ve no reason to show any timidity here.”

Hua Rong soon set out, though he had deliberately brought only five attendants. Yet when he stepped into the garrison fortress that day, an oppressive atmosphere hung over everything from the drill grounds to the administrative halls. This tension likely stemmed not just from the usual garrison soldiers but also from a hundred government troops arrayed before the steps—their banners, flags, swords and spears gleaming with unnatural brilliance. “Ah,” came Huang Xin’s voice. “You’ve finally arrived.”

Huang Xin was waiting for him. When he looked, the grand banquet table for reconciliation had already been set—Huang Xin offered a brief greeting,

“Though His Excellency Murong is not present here, let this cup be considered as one bestowed by him.” “Now then—both of you, take your cups and stand side by side amicably.” With that, he rose and shot Liu Gao a meaningful look. The attendants behind Hua Rong immediately seized him. Screams and clatter erupted in an instant. Government troops came pouring in from outside the pavilion, swiftly trussing up Hua Rong’s arms behind his back with ropes.

Undaunted even by this, Hua Rong glared around with all his might and cursed Huang Xin.

“Why bind me? Is this your fair reconciliation?!” “Ah, the fair statutes! Such noble justice!” “State your reason! Give it!” “What festers in your heart needs no questioning.” "...But to your transparent barking—Magistrate Liu! Produce the immovable witness.”

With that, he turned to Liu Gao behind him. “Bring forth the Red Turban Bandits of Qingfeng Mountain you captured long ago and parade them before this cur.” “Understood.” Liu Gao immediately brought in another bound prisoner from outside the pavilion. Hua Rong was aghast at first glance. Wasn’t this Song Jiang, who had just the other night stood lamenting their parting? They met each other’s gaze and could only stand in stunned silence. Not knowing what words to say—this was precisely the shock of the two in this instant.

“No more words are needed.”

Huang Xin haughtily dismissed him. "If you have anything to say, both of you may state it in Your Excellency Murong's court in Qingzhou." "No!" Hua Rong, filled with all-consuming rage,

“This is biased justice!” “Why do you lay no hands on Liu Gao?” “I earnestly welcome Your Excellency Murong’s personal inquiry.” “But know these ropes bind not us alone!”

“Shut up! Though holding public office as a garrison commander, you secretly maintain friendly ties with Qingfeng Mountain bandits, turn troops into private soldiers, and wring wealth from the people—all your usual deeds have reached Your Excellency Murong’s ears. The clearest proof was written on your face the moment you saw that bandit chieftain.” “—Men! Throw these two into the prepared cage carts at once!” Two prisoner carts had already been readied in a corner of the garrison courtyard. What had been arranged as a luncheon table then transformed into a scene of laughter and shared toasts between Huang Xin, his staff, and Liu Gao, who drank as though their scheme had succeeded.

“Ah, since it’s still early spring, the days are short,” Huang Xin remarked. “We can’t linger here like this any longer.” He immediately stood up, and the staff officer ordered his subordinates to prepare for departure.

As they stood to depart, Liu Gao discreetly employed a bag of gold dust beneath his sleeve—flattering Huang Xin as if worshiping his boots with a whispered “Handle all matters properly”—and joined the procession bound for Qingzhou. Drums and horns soon sounded as the government troops arranged their ranks in formation, neatly enclosing the two cage carts at their center before marching in perfect order out through the garrison gates.

The early spring sun hung wan and chilly.

By dusk that day, the government escort had reached the winter woods at Qingfeng Mountain's foot. A great flock of crows perched on skeletal treetops cried without cease, as though awaiting something. Before long, soldiers at the vanguard spoke: "Hey, I've seen this twice now."

“I saw it too—disgusting, man.” “Ah! They’re being creepy up ahead again.” “What the hell?” “From shadows all over the woods—human eyes are creepily peeking out.” Naturally, their feet slowed. Huang Xin’s intuition too bristled at something in that moment, “Magistrate Liu. “If something happens, do not leave the side of the cage carts.” “Guard the cage carts!” “Yes, sir!” Though he said this, Liu Gao—being fundamentally a civil official by upbringing—had already gone deathly pale in that instant.

Sure enough, before long there appeared three beast-like figures in tricolored attire leaping up beyond the forest path. One man wore a black robe and gripped a battle-axe, while the next large man was attired in a gold-brocade battle robe over red fabric with a swastika-patterned headband. The third lanky man, wielding a greatsword, was clad in green attire. "Hey! Halt right there!"

They stood like battlefield generals proclaiming their names in succession. “Don’t recognize me? I’m Yan Shun of Qingfeng Mountain—the Brocade-Tiger!” “The Brocade-Tiger Yan Shun—that’s who stands before you!” “His sworn brother—the Stumpy-Legged Tiger Wang Ying!” “And next—Zheng Tianshou the White-Faced Gentleman! The world beyond may not know this truth—but here in this place, your lordly airs hold no power!”

“Hand over both cage carts to us and withdraw—that’ll end this,” one bandit demanded. “We won’t let a single one of you bastards crawl back alive!” another roared. “Show your true mettle and answer!” When he heard this, Huang Xin rose upright in his stirrups, his hair standing like quills.

“Bravo! You’ve shown yourselves at last! So you bastards still don’t recognize Huang Xin—provincial commander they call Town-Pacifying Tri-Mountain, who silences even wailing infants? …Open formation!”

However, even their usual training proved useless, and his soldiers instead scattered in all directions with a roar. For not only were countless bandit underlings visible both ahead and behind, but ambushers were also positioned overhead, showering them with poison arrows like rain from the treetops.

“Damn it!” Even as he shouted, Huang Xin was flung from his horse on the forest path—this after pursuing the fleeing tricolored bandit leader into an “Ambush Set” trap of thorns and taut ropes. Though he grabbed the frenzied horse and managed to remount, not one of his soldiers remained in sight. Shouts echoed through the woods. The sun had long since set, deepening the eeriness, while unfathomable flames flickered through the trees everywhere he looked.

“Damn!” “This is a fire trap!” “I’ll burn alive!”

As if possessed, Huang Xin kept wildly lashing his whip against the horse's belly. Then first galloping back to the original main garrison base, he mustered all garrison soldiers to prepare for emergencies while dispatching a swift horse to urgently report this abnormal incident to His Excellency Murong, Governor of Qingzhou Prefecture.

Murong was roused from sleep late at night by the urgent messenger, "What is the matter?" As he looked at Huang’s single letter,

Having received the imperial command with due reverence, I proceeded to the site where I placed the rebel Hua Rong and one bandit into cage carts, and with Liu Gao serving as witness, endeavored to return to Qingzhou. En route, the bandit horde of Qingfeng Mountain obstructed our path and absconded with both cage carts containing Hua Rong and Liu Gao. [...] As the disturbances within the county jurisdiction show no indication of subsiding, we most humbly entreat Your Excellency to promptly dispatch a secondary force of government troops accompanied by a competent commander, that we might receive your urgent guidance in restoring public order... etc. Submitted with profound trepidation and respect.

“Summon Qin Ming at once!” Despite the late hour, he promptly went to his office and had his clerks scurrying about. In response to the summons, Qin Ming the Thunderclap immediately appeared within the hall.

He belonged to Qingzhou's foremost military family. By nature short-tempered and prone to roaring like thunder—hence his nickname "Thunderclap"—when he struck with his four-foot club called the Wolf’s Tooth Mace, studded with cactus-like spikes, he exuded an aura that ten thousand men could not withstand.

“Commander. “Take a force at once and proceed to suppress Qingfeng Stronghold.” “Given these circumstances, it seems Huang Xin has met his match.”

“Understood.” “Though it may sound boastful, with Qin Ming hastening here, you need not worry.” “But Hua Rong the military officer has defected and commands the bandits now. Do not lower your guard.” To bolster his troops’ morale, Murong personally moved his camp stool to the drum tower beyond the city walls, granting each soldier three cups of wine and two meat buns to fortify their resolve for the campaign. Qin Ming soon rode at the vanguard of five hundred soldiers beneath a great crimson banner—its scarlet flames edged in red and inscribed “Commander Qin, Director of Cavalry and Infantry”—fluttering in the dawn wind. From horseback, he turned toward the drum tower’s camp stool,

“I’ll take my leave now. Good tidings shall reach your ears within ten days. Farewell!” With that declaration, to the resounding beat of military drums, they descended the southeastern road. Beneath cheers and smoke signals, Murong too waved his hand, watching their campaign depart.

Meanwhile, at the bandit stronghold atop Qingfeng Mountain.

That day, taking Huang Xin by surprise, they successfully smashed the cage carts holding Song Jiang and Hua Rong and rescued the two men into the mountain stronghold. That night, amid the joy of rebirth and reunion and the recounting of events, their recent plight was completely transformed—it resembled nothing less than a triumphal banquet. "The despicable wretch is that civil official Liu Gao." Attributing everything to his fabrications, Song Jiang demanded: "You’ve captured Liu Gao as well, haven’t you? Bring this wretch here."

When he said this, the bandit leaders laughed nonchalantly and said, "That Liu Gao has long been a denizen of the underworld. To bring him here, we'd have to fetch him from ten billion lands away!" "Oh," said Song Jiang, "you've already killed him? How careless."

“But Master,” said the bandit leader, “there’s no need to spare a bastard like that. Rather than that, this time, won’t you grant that woman Liu Gao had to our Wang Aihu here?” “Still can’t let go of that obsession, can he?” another jeered. “What a lecherous bastard.”

Pointing at Wang Aihu’s face, the group burst into laughter.

When the next day came, a scout’s report arrived. Even Huang Xin’s prior deception by Liu Gao—resulting in Song Jiang and Hua Rong’s imprisonment in cage carts—and indeed all their foresight from beginning to end had relied entirely on their unique “eyes and ears” network of reconnaissance.

“Huang Xin is mobilizing the garrison soldiers!”

Then, two days later.

“No—rather, Qingzhou’s foremost Director of Cavalry and Infantry, Qin Ming the Thunderclap, approaches with five hundred cavalry!”

Following this, from that same evening through to the next morning.

“It seems they’re approaching the northern foothills here from Qingzhou Road.” “They’ve already been sighted seventy li ahead.” “They’ve halted troops ten li from the foothills and appear to camp tonight!”

The incessant voices of the scouts were like an approaching typhoon. But inside the stronghold, all lay utterly silent. Song Jiang stood within. So too did Hua Rong, called Little Li Guang. Perhaps all Qingfeng Mountain's bandits, leaning upon these two men's wisdom and valor, had settled into the mindset: "Should they come - then let them come. We'll meet them as they are."

Qin Ming’s saguaro club proved useless. As for the three futile strategies of the towns—

The government troops, having deliberately spent a night at the foothills to restore their vigor, turned toward the mountain at dawn's break and—boom, boom, boom, BOOM... Aligning their cannon muzzles, they unleashed an initial volley of stone projectiles. As the clamor of gongs and war drums erupted across the plains like thunderclaps splitting clouds, smoke signals rose from the mountaintop while a landslide-like horde of bandit soldiers established positions near the foothills. "Well now! You pretentious weed-bandits!" Qin Ming, astride his horse in glimmering golden armor with his signature iron saguaro club tucked underarm, drew closer and recognized the commander-like figure among the bandit soldiers—none other than Little Li Guang Hua Rong.

Flaring up in anger, he urged his horse forward, “Hey, Hua Rong! Your family has served as military officials to the court for generations! You yourself were appointed as a garrison commander dispatched to the provinces—yet you’ve sunk to joining bandits? What is the meaning of this? Shame on you!” “Oh, Director Qin! First, listen well—there are profound circumstances behind this.” “Spare your excuses! The authorities already know the truth.” “In the first place, this ‘truth’ is Liu Gao’s fabrication! In truth—”

“No more debate—save your explanations for the magistrate’s office! All I need do is bind you with these ropes!” “Though I address you as my superior and try to explain our circumstances, you refuse even to listen?” “You rebels overreach your station! Submit to capture, Little Li Guang!” “What absurdity! So be it.” They selected a clearing where their steeds collided in a crossed clash. Hua Rong’s gleaming white spear met Qin Ming’s wind-whirling saguaro club—fifty furious exchanges without decisive outcome.

Throughout this clash between foes and allies, war drums and gongs mingled with roaring battle cries that shook the mountain echoes like thunderous applause at a theater—a cacophony of martial music and spectator frenzy that heightened the fervent performance of two splendid warrior-actors. Then Hua Rong thought: "I can't win this." Perhaps having resigned himself to defeat, he abruptly veered his path and fled. "Coward!" The instant Qin Ming gave chase, an arrow clanged against his helmet with a metallic ring, shearing off its crimson tassel that went spinning through the air.

Looking on, Hua Rong swiftly stowed his short spear in the saddle ring at his horse’s flank and switched to holding a half-bow in his hands. “Ah! This cur’s a bow master?!”

As he pressed himself into his horse's mane, Hua Rong's figure had already vanished into the cloud-veiled forest. The scattered skirmishes between subordinates and bandit soldiers were utter chaos. He once withdrew his troops to the plains to secure provisions, then launched another assault up the mountain.

“Look! That’s the western peak! Those clamorous gongs and war cries—”

However, when Qin Ming pressed the attack on that western peak with booming shouts, the only response was echoes.

“There! The bandits are beyond East Valley.” “The echoes might have made it sound western.” At his subordinates’ warning, Qin Ming scanned across the valley—and indeed spotted the bandits’ red banners. “Charge!” Yet simply hastening along the path proved fraught with perils. The narrow mountain trails had been deliberately blocked with felled giants of trees, while every step through dead underbrush risked concealed pit traps.

What’s more—after barely crossing the marsh and reaching the eastern peak—what awaited them! No human presence lingered there either. In the deep silence of early spring’s sea of trees, only birdsong rang clear through the air. “Damn it!” Qin Ming roared—they were trying to ensnare *this* Qin Ming with insolent trickery! “Just you wait!” No moment came to catch their breath—again came thunderous gong strikes from nowhere! The clamor held no battle cadence—only mockery taunting their ears like jeers!

“Below! Below!” “A bit further down to the east!” The offensive from above had been tactically sound, but their reckless avalanche-like charge proved another critical blunder. A section of the eroded mountainside path had been cut away along the way. Men and horses tumbled into the valley bottom along with cascading earth. Even as they shouted “Stop! Stop!” at the momentum pressing from behind, they instantly witnessed a disaster as unstoppable as an overturned carriage.

“Fall back for now! We’ll regroup and crush them this time!” Qin Ming, famed for his short temper, could now do nothing but bellow and roar. They gathered the injured from the valley and withdrew once to their encampment. And taking advantage of the rest period, they began sending up evening smoke for their early supply operations.

In the mountains they had just descended from moments before, war cries and the clamor of gongs erupted even louder than before. Exhausted himself, he dispatched a detachment for a preliminary skirmish, but they failed to return promptly. The derisive pounding of gongs persisted relentlessly until, driven beyond endurance, he remounted and barked orders to his full army: "We'll feast on provisions after crushing these bandits! The mountain stronghold must overflow with wine and meat! Rouse yourselves, men!"

However, when they charged into the mountains again, the clamor from the eastern mountain abruptly ceased, and instead, countless torch fires flickered into view at a corner of the opposite western mountain.

“So after all, the bandits are in the west!”

If they retraced their path along the day's route, an unexpected blaze of torches appeared even higher up, while there in the western mountain's bosom lay shrouded in nothing but pitch-black darkness.

Qin Ming gnashed his teeth. His hair stood on end; every pore seemed ready to gush bloody sweat. "Soldiers! Isn't there a path to that high ground?" "If we detour south, I hear there's a main road." "So that must be their main gate. No alternative." "Detour south!"

They headed toward the Southeast Road, but even reaching the main path required immense struggle. The sun had long since set. A hazy yellow moon hung in the sky. Guided by its pallid light, they finally found the main road - only to face ambushers' arrows whistling from shadowed thickets at every turn. Recklessly pressing onward through this gauntlet, they had already climbed several dozen *chō* when suddenly looking up - there at last they glimpsed what seemed a summit: a flat rocky plateau stretching into a broad plain.

On the summit, several crimson bonfires seemed to be burning fiercely. The lively sounds of flutes and drums were like those of an entertainment district. And what was this?! Qin Ming's rage had now reached its peak. Was that not the sight of Hua Rong, Song Jiang, and their chieftains, cups in hand, engaging in elegant conversation as if using that flat rocky expanse as their drinking grounds? “Don’t move! You scoundrels!” Before them, he made his horse prance and bellowed,

“Ah! Director-General Qin! You’ve finally arrived!” Only someone answered him thus. Not a single soul was startled. “You must be thoroughly exhausted. Dismount and won’t you have a drink here?” “Wh-what nonsense! Bandits! Submit quietly to your bonds!” “Bwahahaha!”

It seemed that laughter was the signal. Qin Ming's body was thrown from his rearing horse's back, and the beast—its body riddled with arrows—galloped off wildly into the darkness. At the same moment, Qin Ming sprang sideways to evade danger and tumbled into the midst of his comrades trailing behind. Instantly, a deafening cacophony of war gongs, drums, and conch horns erupted from all mountainsides, mingling with bandit shouts.—Blind with panic, Qin Ming fled alongside his soldiers.—But the valley's torrents overtook their desperate flight until they lost all sense of direction. The road had become a river.

This strategy had all originated from the minds of Song Jiang and Hua Rong. They had deployed what military strategy calls 'distractions' on the Eastern and Western Peaks, turned mountain paths into a 'maze of confusion,' and breached the stronghold's reservoir to flood the road into a river. Most of the five hundred government troops had been disposed of in this fashion. However, since they had previously commanded their bandit subordinates accordingly, only Qin Ming—who had nearly drowned—was eventually bound with ropes and dragged back. The location was the main compound of the bandit stronghold. The bandits called this place the 'Stronghold Assembly Hall.'

“So it’s Hua Rong, huh?” Have I been captured alive? Yet why are they untying my bonds? “Slay him, Hua Rong! Why aren’t you tearing this Qin Ming into eight pieces?!”

“Director-General Qin—please forgive last night’s discourtesy. The one saying not to kill you is the gentleman present there.” “What?!”

Qin Ming shifted his bloodshot eyes sideways. “So you are the leader of this mountain’s bandits.” “That’s not it—” Hua Rong said, drawing attention to where his eyes were directed. “The leaders of the bandits are those lined up on this side. In order from the top, they are Jinmao Hu Yan Shun, Aijiao Hu Wang Ying, and Baimian Lang Zheng Tianshou.” “A man who isn’t a bandit has no reason to be here. Hua Rong, you’re now one of the ringleaders yourself, and that dark-skinned man sitting there in the chair will no doubt become a chief villain as well.”

“No, that gentleman is Clerk Song.”

“A clerk?” “This is Shandong’s Timely Rain—Mr. Song Gongming.”

“Gah!” “This man?” “Please compose yourself and meet him properly. Surely you recall the 'Wanted Circular for Song Jiang' distributed from Yuncheng County to all provinces?”

Qin Ming, who had been staring at Song Jiang's face and bearing with such intensity it might bore holes through them, finally let his shoulders slump and prostrated himself.

“What in heaven’s meaning lies behind this? How could the renowned Clerk Song be present in such a place?” …It felt like a dream. His very flesh quivered at the horror of his own actions. “Please raise your hands,” said Song Jiang. “Though I am indeed Song Jiang himself, we cannot properly converse like this.” Song Jiang firmly seated him in an equal chair and began explaining in earnest detail—starting from his flight from Yuncheng County, moving to the recent calamity that befell him while staying at Hua Rong’s home, then unraveling how he had fallen victim to the Liu couple’s treacherous scheme—laying bare each right and wrong with patient clarity.

“I was wrong!” Qin Ming declared, his honest nature burning with shame and righteous fury. “I shall personally explain everything to Your Excellency Murong at once. The facts stand completely inverted,” he insisted. “Release me here tomorrow morning.” “Ah now,” Yan Shun interjected, “given your current condition, immediate departure would be impossible.” His tone carried false concern. “Do rest awhile.” Now that it was mentioned, even the valiant Qin Ming found every joint of his body throbbing with pain. Two full days had passed since receiving treatment. Yet when he contemplated his situation, he could neither sit still nor lie peacefully.

“People of the stronghold, I have a request. You’ve already entrusted this humble one with a life that should have been forfeited—yet I dare make this impertinent appeal.”

“What is it? Out with it then.”

Yan Shun, who stood nearby, inquired of him. Qin Ming lowered his head and spoke.

“This humble one’s armor and helmet, wolf-tooth mace,” Qin Ming requested. “Along with my horse and weapons – if any of my subordinates survived, return them all together.” “And what do you intend to do?” Yan Shun pressed. “I shall return to the province,” Qin Ming declared, “apologize before Your Excellency Murong, and fully expose Civil Official Liu Gao’s chronic misdeeds and false accusations. This will serve as material for proposals to rectify the maladministration plaguing his jurisdiction.” Yan Shun gave a bitter chuckle. “Commendable intentions, Director-General – but how do you suppose that would fare? A disgraced commander who lost five hundred troops and fled – wouldn’t shackles in a dungeon be your more likely reward?” He leaned forward. “Why not instead make this rugged mountain stronghold your home? Reconsider your path in life here.”

At this, Qin Ming’s face flushed with resolve as he stormed out of one of the bandit hall’s chambers. “Even were I made captive, this Qin Ming’s spirit remains uncorrupted!” “For generations my house has received the imperial court’s grace—I who stand here as Provincial Director-General of Military Affairs.” “How could I turn ungrateful thief and raise hand against my sovereign?” “Come then—fetch bow or spear and pierce this breast! The blood of Thunderclap Qin Ming yet runs pure!”

Hua Rong, who was watching this, rushed down the steps of the assembly hall and came over,

“Now, now”

and led him back inside. “I fully understand your sentiments, but given your current condition, immediate exertion remains impossible. You must rest and recuperate a while longer.”

Qin Ming's situation was worthy of sympathy. Song Jiang in particular perceived this keenly. Moved by this, he wept. Song Jiang, Hua Rong, and the leaders held a modest drinking banquet to console him. However, Qin Ming was unable to even get cheerfully drunk.

After about five more days had passed, he finally descended the mountain. Song Jiang and his men came to see him off at the foot of the mountain and returned his armor and wolf-tooth mace. He thanked them, and no sooner had he mounted his horse than he raced back toward Qingzhou as though flying.

But then—

The next day arrived.

Qin Ming, having reached an area about ten *li* outside Qingzhou's suburbs,

“Wh—what is this?!”

In a daze, he reined in his horse. From the houses at the highway entrance to the town roofs stretching toward the city walls—hadn't the entire vista transformed into a scorched wasteland of rubble?

Moreover, this was no ordinary fire or wildfire. As he advanced further, he saw soldiers' corpses and charred bodies of men and women lying scattered about. Clearly, this had been war's cruelest face. Qin Ming, beside himself, whipped his horse and raced straight to the provincial city's gates. And from beneath the city wall,

“Open the gates! Open the gates! … It’s me! It’s me! Open the city gates!” he bellowed. “What?! Qin Ming has returned?” Amidst the uproar, such voices rang out, and countless heads peered outward from atop the city walls. However, there was no sign of the iron gates opening. Not only did a trumpet blast pierce the air and the drum tower’s great drums thunder, but Magistrate Murong’s voice was heard from above: “Ah, you inhuman wretch!” “Traitorous filth!” “You brazenly demand we open the gates—this transparent ruse!” “To deceive us again, you dare show yourself here?” “How could we be fooled by such tricks once more?” “Enough prattling! Seize them and burn these rebels at the stake!”

Qin Ming was stunned and wailed upward. “Your Excellency! Your Excellency! “Isn’t this some kind of mistake? “Though I admit grave negligence, to be branded a rebel is beyond comprehension!” “Silence! That armor, that one-of-a-kind wolf-tooth mace.” “The horse too!”

“What about that?” “Don’t play dumb! On the night before last, late at night—among the bandits who boldly ravaged inside and outside the provincial city under your command—there are those who clearly saw your figure on horseback!”

“Gah!” “Me?!” “Though they wore masks, in the glaring firelight—from their build to their manner of fighting—every soldier who witnessed it testified unanimously that it was none other than Qin Ming himself.” “Despicable wretch!” “How dare you betray Murong’s favor!” “For this retaliation—here lies your family.... Behold Heaven’s judgment, Qin Ming!” As Murong raised his hand, soldiers beside him thrust several spears out from atop the wall. Each spear tip had one of his family members’ heads pierced through. Among them was the head of his beloved wife.

“You witless fool! You lost five hundred soldiers, got swayed by bandits, then tried cooking up lies to spirit your family away—but I’ll not permit it! Now—don’t let this vermin escape!”

At a single command, a rain of wild arrows instantly enveloped his figure, and from his mouth came a cry that was both like weeping and vomiting blood— "Agh—…"

The cry echoed. Yet in that instant, an instinctive whip cracked against the horse's flank. Just as it wheeled like a swift bird in flight, stone projectiles thundered from the shadow of the city walls aimed precisely at them. A burst of yellow sand erupted skyward as one or two squads charging with battle cries appeared at the crossroads. But the wild steed bearing him kicked aside infantry time and again, smashed through spear formations, and flew off like a comet beyond ten li outside the suburbs.

And then—in the shade of a grove ahead, a formation of banners and troops had gathered,

“Ah, Director-General Qin, where might you be headed?” Five riders swung their horses broadside and barred his path.

Looking closer, one of them was Song Jiang. Also present were Hua Rong, Yan Shun, Wang Aihu, Bai Mianlang, and the rest of their company.

“You must have been shocked by Qingzhou’s destruction,” Song Jiang began, his tone carefully measured. “The details can wait—we came specifically to escort you.” He gestured toward the mountain path. “At any rate, you must return to the stronghold.” Surrounded by two hundred mountain troops, Qin Ming found himself compelled back up the slopes. They seated him formally in the assembly hall where a feast had already been prepared. The moment he saw the wine cups— “No!” He slammed his palm against the table, making the vessels tremble. “You may find this laughable, but wine is beyond me now.” His voice cracked like dry timber. “This... this eviscerating grief—” He clutched his robes over his heart. “I beg your understanding.”

“I was indeed at fault.”

Song Jiang bowed deeply in apology. "In our excessive admiration for your character—in devising too elaborate a scheme—we made your family meet such cruel deaths." "There are no adequate words for my remorse." "What?" "Then Clerk Song—you claim this was your doing?"

“The one who struck the blow was not me.” “Yet it may be said my stratagem summoned this unforeseen disaster.” “...In truth, Hua Rong, Yan Shun, and all the rest became so enamored with your character that they desperately wished to bring you into our fold and swear a bond of severed necks.” “But you would not heed them.” “...?” “To speak plainly—while you were at our mountain stronghold, we chose a man from our ranks who matched your height and bearing perfectly. We clad him in your armor and helmet, put your wolf-tooth mace in his hands, then sent him with two hundred of Yan Shun and Wang Aihu’s men to raid Qingzhou City at midnight—laying waste to both inside and outside the walls. [...] This was our design—to leave you no path but return to our stronghold.”

“So that’s how it was…” “Hmph! Song Jiang—get outside!” Qin Ming was enraged and gripped his cactus club.

“Wait, please!” Hua Rong and those below him all prostrated themselves at his feet. “Your righteous fury is entirely justified. “However, it is not right for you to direct your resentment solely at Master Song. “Originally, it was we who became so infatuated with the man called Thunderclap Qin Ming and developed this obsession. “Could this be some twist of fate? “We simply couldn’t bring ourselves to let go. “We cannot make amends for this sin now, but we offer our apologies into the future. “We implore you to endure your bitter tears here and accept our cup. “No—rather, take us as your sworn brothers in righteousness and keep us with you for a long time.”

Faced with their synchronized bows of contrition and this extent of being liked by fellow men, Qin Ming found himself unable to voice endless complaints. Looking back, Qin Ming was now utterly alone in the world, and the dead would not return to life. Moreover, he was keenly aware of the corruption in officialdom. In the end, he accepted the cup, there forming a lifelong bond of righteousness with his fellow ill-fated souls of the mountains and marshes.—When later reflecting on this, one could only call it heaven and earth’s unfathomable design, an inevitable karmic convergence where the 108 Stars of Destiny were naturally born upon this soil to meet.

Meanwhile.—At Qingfeng Town’s garrison stronghold, where Huang Xin had been preparing defenses while awaiting reinforcements from His Excellency Murong, he thought one day as he gazed down from the watchtower at Zhentai Avenue, “Hmm? Isn’t that Director-General Qin approaching? Alone on horseback—what could bring him here?”

From the watchtower there, he gazed down at Zhentai Avenue with suspicion.

Before long, a messenger came from the main gate of the stronghold. It was indeed Qin Ming. To him, this man was none other than Qin Ming—his superior officer and martial arts master. He himself went out to welcome him, invited him into the reception pavilion within the stockade, and heard directly from Qin Ming’s own lips both the hidden truths of this incident and the complete transformation of Qin Ming’s own circumstances.

"Huh? So all of it was the Liu couple’s wicked plot then." At each revelation, Huang Xin widened his eyes in surprise, "No wonder—now that I’m here, the general sentiment throughout the city is all those who lament Hua Rong and despise Civil Official Liu." "But Director-General, I cannot comprehend what resolve led even you to follow Hua Rong and cast yourself into the bandit stronghold."

“Is it fate’s mischief? Even I don’t understand my own resolve.” “But Song Gongming—the Timely Rain of Shandong—is there.” “I had long been deeply impressed by Master Song’s character.” “Even upon meeting him, I believed him a man of profound righteousness and pure heart.” “Yes—my resolve likely stems from having placed my trust in Song Jiang.”

“What? You’re saying Song Gongming is here?”

“Ha ha ha ha!” “Huang Xin—haven’t you had that man in your grasp all along?” “The Zhang San you escorted in that prison cart—the so-called Tiger of Yuncheng—was none other than him.” “Is that true?” he said, still half-doubting. “I… didn’t know.” “Truly vexing.” “Had I known that was Song Gongming, I would have let him escape even at the cost of my own life.” “…And when I think of it—what a fool I was.” He’d been completely manipulated by the honeyed words of that silver-tongued Liu couple.

Huang Xin struck his own head and lamented endlessly.

“……By the way.” With that, Qin Ming entered into the crucial discussion he had aimed for.

Needless to say, his purpose was to persuade Huang Xin to rescue Hua Rong's wife and sisters left at the official residence outside the stronghold without bloodshed. It was also an invitation to bring Huang Xin into their ranks alongside himself. "You must join us." Huang Xin consented, so he and Qin Ming immediately took down the official flag from Zhengtai Fortress's ramparts. Perhaps taking this as a signal from afar, about two hundred mountain soldiers solemnly entered Qingfeng Town's streets under Yan Shun, Wang Aihu, Bai Mianlang and others' leadership.

“Hey, those aren’t government troops!” “They’re mountain soldiers! Bandits!” The townspeople trembled violently, and in each household they closed their doors. But this mountain soldier force maintained strict discipline, not even casting covetous glances around. The gates of Zhengtai fortress were thrown open, and Song Jiang immediately had town notices erected at every crossroads. Cease operations: Unnecessary Panic: Unnecessary Concealment: Unnecessary Thus was the notice of Three Prohibitions. However, only one place—the official residence where Civil Official Liu Gao had been—was immediately stormed by mountain soldiers. And Liu’s retainers were slaughtered, while the wife who had been hiding in the inner quarters was dragged out and sent to the mountains. Furthermore, from that warehouse various treasures were carried out onto the streets and, together with cattle, horses, chickens, sheep and the like, all those goods were fairly distributed into the hands of the poor.

Needless to say, Hua Rong’s wife and sisters had been rescued from his official residence. However, Hua Rong took only his relatives with him, and the household goods from the official residence were likewise distributed as alms to the needy. Thus, what the mountain soldiers obtained were supplies, provisions, and military equipment from within the Zhengtai fortress. Even that alone was more plunder than they could carry to celebrate their triumphant return. Amid cheers, the entire group withdrew to the mountain stronghold.

The grand banquet that night turned the entire mountain stronghold into a scene of boisterous revelry from end to end.

However, before anyone realized, Wang Aihu alone was nowhere to be seen amidst the banquet.

“Hah!... That lecher’s already gone and done it, hasn’t he?” Having caught wind of Bai Mianlang’s Okayaki, Yan Shun said, “Right, Master Song—what shall we do about that Liu woman?”

“Bring her before me.”

Immediately, Bai Mianlang and Yan Shun went somewhere and abducted Madame Liu. Following this, the one bearing an unmistakably sullen expression was Wang Aihu. The moment Wang Aihu saw Song Jiang, he took preemptive action.

“Master, don’t concern yourself. The woman’s already entrusted her body to this Aihu.” “I see. So you’ve had your way with her.” “Heh heh heh. So to speak, from now on she’s my wife, see?”

“That’s ill-considered,” Song Jiang countered. “Reflect on this—is she not the venomous woman I once rescued from peril, who repaid my kindness with treachery and spawned calamities thereafter?” Wang Aihu chuckled darkly. “A venomous woman has her uses before you, Master. Even a pufferfish possesses its peculiar delicacy.” “But no fit companion for life! You might endure her, but discord and unforeseen strife would plague us endlessly. Consider Qin Ming’s family—their wretched fate would never have transpired were this woman not among us.”

While this viperous woman debate was being exchanged between the two of them, Madame Liu's piercing scream suddenly came from behind. When Wang Aihu whirled around, the woman had already collapsed in a pool of fresh blood, a dagger having been thrust near her breast.

“Aihu, enough already!”

It was Yan Shun, their sworn elder brother, who rebuked him. Aihu hung his head.

However, it wasn't that this place was some world where women were forbidden. They all comforted Aihu by saying he would find a suitable woman in time, while Song Jiang, considering Qin Ming's unhealed loneliness, took it upon himself to act as matchmaker and wed Hua Rong's sister to Qin Ming. The ceremonies and banquets continued for another two or three days.

“Ah! This time, a full-scale Government Troops offensive comes to crush us!”

Suddenly, the scout's urgent report jolted the mountain stronghold awake. The names of Hua Rong, Qin Ming, and Huang Xin had been expunged from official records as rebels, and in their place came word that a large-scale pursuit force would soon be dispatched by order of the Qingzhou magistrate and Central Secretariat.

“Well, what now?”

In the council hall, deliberations amassed in quantity.

“No matter how much we strain our wits, we won’t be able to hold out in this mountain stronghold. First off, if they completely surround the base and force us into a protracted siege, we’d dry up like parched earth.” “Now is the time to abandon it.” This was Song Jiang’s proposal. He continued: “The world is vast.” “You say it’s vast, but where could this many of us possibly go?” “There is a place called Liangshan Marsh.” “Liangshan Marsh? I believe I’ve heard of it.” “It is Shandong’s foremost water region—spanning over eight hundred li, hidden among reed marshes and treacherous to cross. Within lie island-like mountains and fields cradling Wanzicheng at their heart, where four or five thousand people live joyfully under the leadership of my acquaintance Chao Gai.”

“Huh, Master Song—do you actually know someone like that?”

“There are circumstances.”

With that, Song Jiang smiled. And after explaining the gist of the matter,

“That’s it! That place must be our destined haven!” “What say you, Master? Without any formal introduction, might there still be hope for us to join their ranks?” “Not impossible.” “With such stalwart men assembled here.” “They’d welcome us with open arms.”

“Then let’s hurry.” “You know what they say: Strike while the iron’s hot.” Over ten Jiangzhou carts were prepared. Luggage, gold, silver, and all manner of things were lashed to the packhorses as well.

And there, they gave money and goods to those who wished to part ways and sent them off, while the remaining force of nearly four hundred men, along with over a hundred horses and over ten carts—a large contingent thus organized—formed ranks and departed carrying a large banner that read "First Rebel-Suppression Official Army." That is to say, disguised as false government troops to subjugate Liangshan Marsh, they openly set out southward. Song Jiang and Hua Rong led the vanguard, followed by Qin Ming and Huang Xin advancing the banner of the Government Troops Second Unit. Then Yan Shun and his men formed the Third Unit and left the mountain, with the last among them setting fire to the stronghold before departing. Six or seven of the carts were arranged palanquin-style with cloth hanging on all sides, inside which glimpses of women could be seen. In effect, one might say this was a mass relocation of a family-encumbered army.

But spring had finally lengthened the days, and along the post roads through mountain villages, there was no one to suspect them. However, the journey to Liangshan Marsh with this company was no simple trek. Whether their path would remain safe was known only to the demon or god who had brought forth the 108 Stars into this world.

Hua Rong of the Bow Shoots a Wild Goose and Makes His Name in Liangshan Marsh This was no ordinary journey. After all, this was a large-scale movement of three units totaling four hundred men and women. Though they had crossed many mountains and rivers toward their destination of Liangshan Marsh,

“How many more days do we have left on this journey?”

Mountains stretched ahead, clouds loomed ahead—nothing but a vast, desolate sensation. Moreover, their numbers had finally swelled to over five hundred. This was because they had incorporated two bandits from Duiying Mountain—Lü Fang and Guo Sheng—along with all their subordinates during the journey. Lü Fang, nicknamed Little Marquis Wen, had originally been an herbalist but stood as a peerless master of the Fangtianji halberd. Guo Sheng, born in Jialing of Xichuan as a mercury merchant, was likewise a wielder of the Fangtianji halberd. Rivaling Lü Fang, they had established two separate strongholds on Duiying Mountain where bandit factions clashed for dominance. However,

"They say that Song Gongming of Shandong—along with Hua Rong the Fort Commander, Qin Ming the Superintendent, Huang Xin the Pacifier of Three Mountains, and others—has abandoned their official posts to pledge themselves to righteousness, with even Qingfeng Mountain’s Yan Shun, Short Tiger, and White-Faced Lad following him, and that they are now journeying to Liangshan Marsh." Upon hearing this, the two could no longer maintain their quarrel. They promptly rallied their men and came forth to volunteer their allegiance.

“Well... that’s acceptable, but—” As Song Jiang observed this staggering expansion of their numbers, he addressed the assembly. “If Liangshan Marsh’s scouts mistake this for a genuine suppression force and alert their stronghold first, that would become the very root of a grave misunderstanding—” “Yan Shun and I will go ahead to give advance notice, so the rest of you should follow afterward.”

Therefore, only the two of them rushed ahead. A lone rider could cover ground far more quickly.

It was already about three days after they had parted. Song Jiang and Yan Shun tied their horses at a roadside tavern and were about to prepare a meal when—

“Oh?”

“Could this be Master Song Jiang?”

From the dimly lit corner of the tavern where he had been sipping alone lumbered a hulking man wearing a pig-snout-like hood. He was startled by this direct confrontation but found himself unable to conceal his identity any longer.

“Indeed, I am Song Gongming. And you are…?” “Ah! What fortune to meet you here – though there’s something uncanny about this.” “Perhaps those beneath the grass blades arranged our meeting.” “‘Those beneath the grass’…?” “Well…” “At any rate – examine this letter.”

“Ah! This letter—it must be the handwriting of my true brother, Iron Fan Song Qing?” “I am Shi Yong—a wretched man they call Stone General, who once made his living through gambling in Daming Prefecture.” “How did you become so familiar with my younger brother Song Qing?” “I wouldn’t presume to call us familiar. The truth is—after losing my land over a gambling mat dispute—I found shelter for a time under Master Chai Jin of Cangzhou. Having obtained his letter of introduction during that period, I happened to spend one night at your honorable residence in Yuncheng County while journeying here.”

“Ah. “At my family home in my hometown—” “That’s when your name came up, you see—” “Your younger brother said, ‘I’ve heard that my elder brother Song Jiang is with the Kong family of White Tiger Mountain. If you happen to go to that region, could you deliver this letter for me?’ And so I received this request.” “Well, in any case, please give this a read.” Casually, Song Jiang broke the seal. But even as he began to cut it open, he noticed at once—not only were the customary characters for ‘peace and safety’ missing at the top, but the seal itself bore the inauspicious mark of an inverted closure.

………… Upon reading it, Song Jiang slammed his face down onto the table.

His sideburns were drenched with tears; even the backs of his ears had drained of blood, turning deathly pale. The sobs he had been suppressing finally erupted into convulsive wailing that wracked his entire body. Witnessing this, even Yan Shun—who had stood dumbstruck—grew so unnerved by suspicion that Song Jiang might have lost his mind that he felt paralyzed with dread. “Wh-what’s happened? Master! Master!” “Master! Master!” “Ah….” “Yan Shun, I’m sorry, but you must convey my apologies to the rest of our company when they arrive.” “I must return immediately from here to my family home in my hometown.”

“But if you don’t come, even Liangshan Marsh won’t permit us to join their ranks.” “Five hundred souls would be left wandering homeless, wouldn’t we?”

“No, no—I’ll borrow writing materials now and draft a letter to Liangshan Marsh in my name.” “What in the world is the situation, pray?” “My father back in my hometown has passed away.” “In my brother’s letter, it says to return home immediately upon seeing this.” Ah... What a wretched son I am! “Yan Shun, laugh for me.” I can’t stop crying! …. On this journey, I could not even perform the final rites for my old father nor provide him a single moment of peace.

Song Jiang wept without any pretense, weeping ceaselessly. When one considered that this was Song Jiang laid utterly bare - his very human essence - there could be no bending his will now. Even a man like Yan Shun found himself weeping in sympathy, offering his agreement without a moment's hesitation.

Hua Rong, Qin Ming, Huang Xin, and their large contingent pressed onward under their usual large banners, and two days later, all three groups reached the same area.

When Yan Shun and Shi Yong, who had immediately rushed out from the inn to greet them, explained why Song Jiang was not there,

“What?! You’re saying Master Song already went back alone to his hometown from here?” “Tch! Why didn’t you stop him?”

The group was deeply disappointed and resentful, but the person had already departed. Now that it was too late to do anything, they incorporated Shi Yong into their ranks and simply pressed on with their journey.

And so—by that day, they had entered a watery region that seemed near Shandong’s Liangshan Marsh.

Then, no sooner had the mournful note of a rhinoceros horn flute sounded from beyond the desolate sandy flats and reeds than swift gongs and drums resounded raucously.

Looking out, they saw yellow flags, blue flags, and red flags fluttering across the wilderness and mountains, while from the shadow of a distant shore, two swift vessels—each carrying forty to fifty men armed with swords and halberds—approached briskly in their direction.

“Hey! Waaait!” The ones who had called out from the bow were Lin Chong, Leopard Head, one of Liangshan Marsh’s generals, and Liu Tang, Red-Haired Demon. On this side were Hua Rong, Qin Ming, and their companions.

“Ah! Are you a contingent from Liangshan Marsh? Do not be mistaken—the Government Troops’ banners are merely to deceive eyes along the journey. We are not Government Troops.”

“Then, who are you and where do you hail from?” “We have brought a letter of introduction from Master Song Gongming and would ask you to review it.” “What? You’ve got a letter from Master Song?”

On the boat, small signal flags were being waved. Then from a shoreline inlet came a fishing boat with three men who looked like fishermen. They rowed up before Hua Rong, leapt nimbly ashore, and stood ready to guide them, saying, "This way." After winding through a reed-marsh path so narrow it nearly swallowed carts whole, they arrived at Zhu Gui's teahouse on the pier, where the two earlier boats had already docked. "Now then," said Lin Chong, "let us examine the letter."

Lin Chong had arrived first and was waiting. However, Lin Chong did not open it with his own hands. Immediately, he shot a whistling arrow to summon a messenger boat from the opposite bank and had it taken somewhere.

“Everyone, you must be exhausted.” “The favorable reply will likely come tomorrow morning.” “Tonight, please make camp here at your ease.” Lin Chong expressed his appreciation to the group.

Meanwhile, Zhu Gui of the teahouse opened ten large jars of wine, slaughtered three yellow oxen, and amply satisfied the hunger of the crowd.

The next morning. A beautiful peach-colored spring morning.

The military strategist of Liangshan Marsh, Wu Yong the Scholar, rowed a boat with dashing vigor and crossed over here ahead of others.

Then, he exchanged cordial introductions with each of the principal members, starting with Hua Rong and Qin Ming. “In accordance with Master Song Gongming’s letter and following deliberations among our stronghold’s leaders, we have joyfully resolved to welcome all of you to Liangshan Marsh.” “...Now, I shall guide you henceforth.” “Make your preparations.” With deliberate composure, Wu Yong no sooner said this than he went out to the pier and summoned twelve large white-oared ships. The commotion until over five hundred people had finished boarding them was indescribable. Women, horses, carts, oxen, luggage—it was like a mass migration of refugees. Yet once they left shore, the lead ship cut through Jinshatan’s white waves and advanced in orderly fashion. Soon, from the newly reached bank to the pine-forest path—and all along the mountain trail up to the Assembly Hall—there were bands, firecrackers, and a surging sea of multicolored banners.

“Oh, welcome!” In the great hall of Yuecheng, people were there to welcome them.

Namely, on the left-side chairs were: Chao Gai, Wu Yong, Gongsun Sheng, Lin Chong, Liu Tang, Ruan Xiao'er, Ruan Xiaowu, Ruan Xiaoqi, Du Xuan, Song Wan, Zhu Gui, Bai Sheng. Among them was Bai Sheng the Daylight Rat, who had just escaped from Jizhou Prison a few days prior and now stood among their ranks here. That too was said to be a scheme of Wu Yong the Scholar.

Next, on the right side were

Hua Rong, Qin Ming, Huang Xin, Yan Shun, Short Tiger, White-Faced Gentleman, Lü Fang, Guo Sheng, Shi Yong, and that day's newcomers were seated. And between the two rows, incense billowed lavishly from great censers, deities were enshrined at the front, and there between men an oath of righteousness was sworn.

The ceremony concluded.

From the Assembly Hall, music came to fill the entire mountain. To families with women and elderly members were allotted earthen houses in the valleys behind the mountain, and that day became a banquet lasting into the night. During this feast.

Naturally, talk of Song Jiang arose. And when everyone heard that Song Jiang had encountered news of his elderly father’s death and ultimately did not come here, “Ah, that’s just like him.” And they all sighed in equal admiration for his filial devotion. Moreover, when the incident at Qingfengzhen was recounted, it set the blood of all who heard it boiling, and talk even arose of Hua Rong being renowned as a master archer—but at this, Chao Gai, Wu Yong, Lin Chong, and the rest wore expressions of feigned inattention. In this company, there was undeniably an air that made any boasting of martial prowess seem somewhat presumptuous.

The next day. Hua Rong and the nine new members were guided by Chao Gai and others through Liangshan Marsh's gates, terrain, and hidden fortresses. At that moment beneath the spring haze, rivers and mountains lay like a painted scroll. At times came Kee-ron, kee-ron... The cries of returning geese. When they looked up, formations straight as spear shafts would vanish beyond watery horizons. "Would someone lend me a bow?" When Hua Rong suddenly spoke up,

“Will this do?” Someone handed over a bow they had been carrying. It was a slender bow with gold leaf scattered across a black background and a magpie painted in mitada-e pigment. Twang—after testing the bowstring with a single pluck and nocking an arrow, Hua Rong addressed those around him. “This is but a trifling diversion—let me try shooting the head of a goose in flight with this.” “If I miss, please have a good laugh.”

People exchanged glances.

There was what had happened the previous night. While Hua Rong’s feelings were understandable, an air of begrudging irritation was visible to everyone. However, the arrow was on the string, ready to fly, and the bow had been drawn taut. Overhead stretched a single line of geese. Hua Rong shouted: “I’ll shoot the third one!” With a twang, the bowstring snapped back. And indeed, the arrow struck the third goose flying in formation, bringing it down to earth. When they immediately dispatched soldiers to retrieve it—lo and behold—the arrow had pierced clean through the goose’s head.

From then on within Liangshan Marsh, when referring to Hua Rong as Divine Arm General, they came to call him by that name and declared that not even Yang Youji of antiquity could rival his mastery, so that none doubted the divine skill of his bow. Among the righteous comrades, seating order—that is to say, hierarchy—was strictly enforced. Soon the seating order was determined. To wit: while there was no change to the traditional chief seat or military advisor’s position, since Qin Ming had taken Hua Rong’s younger sister as wife, he yielded the higher fifth seat to Hua Rong and himself became sixth.

Huang Xin was placed eighth. Furthermore, Yan Shun and those below him took their seats after the three Ruan brothers. And thus, the twenty-one leaders—veterans and rising stars—renewed their formation to take command from the Assembly Hall, prepared for even tens of thousands of government troops to come charging at them at any time.

Yet there was indeed a tinge of loneliness. The one missing there alone was Song Jiang. The whereabouts of that Song Gongming had since become an unforgettable concern for the comrades there. Of course, they used their agents to constantly cross the river and deploy their spies and scouts in all directions. When mercy accompanies a punitive expedition along the Yangtze River, Even a demonic sorcerer transforms into a good-hearted loyal servant.

The story went back a little.

Now, on that day, Song Jiang came to the entrance of his hometown, Song Family Village, and as he approached the front of the village shrine, “Oh, what a rare sight!” He collided with Village Elder Zhang and was met with a surprised greeting and expressions of joy. “Clerk. “Well, well, you’ve come back. “That unpleasant incident—I hear they’ve finally issued a pardon after a year and a half. “Please stay in the village from now on.” “Oh, old man. “You keeping well? “Even if that incident has been pardoned, as this unfilial son who couldn’t be at my father’s deathbed, I have no face to show to the villagers.”

“Wh-what are you saying? I just finished discussing festival preparations with your honorable father at the shrine office over there and parted from him moments ago.” “That can’t be! I learned of Father’s death through my brother’s letter and rushed back here in shock from my travels.” “Hoh! A letter from Mr. Song Qing, you say? Let me see it then.” “...This one here?” “Hahaha! Well now, Mr. Song Qing must’ve taken leave of his senses!”

“This is no laughing matter.” “No—I simply can’t help but laugh! Your honorable father was just here cracking jokes left and right, in high spirits from his midday drink, and has now returned home—how could he possibly be dead?” “Is that true? No—let it be true!”

Still half in doubt, Song Jiang raced as if flying and dashed through the old gate of his family home.

“Ah! Brother, you’re back?”

The moment he saw his younger brother Song Qing come out, he panted. “Father...” “Father is inside. He just returned from outside...” “What?” He was glad, but at the same time furious—tears spilled so much that he wanted to punch his younger brother’s profile.

“You bastard! What kind of foolish letter did you send me?! Keep your pranks in check!”

Then, from the inner rooms, “Is that my son’s voice?”

The old father ran out, grasped Song Jiang's hand, pressed that hand to his own cheek, and apologized. “Forgive me. That letter—I made Song Qing write it. …It was because I wanted to see you… And also, around White Tiger Mountain and Qingfeng Mountain, there are many bandits. …And then I worried day and night—what if you too fell in with such riffraff, ended up a disloyal, unfilial villain, and brought shame to our ancestors? That’s when that man Shi Yong appeared.”

“So that letter was entirely Father’s doing… Ah, what relief…” “I’ll say no more of it.” “For my years of unfilial conduct, I beg your forgiveness.” “Now, my son.” “Don’t fret so.” “There was a time when that incident weighed heavily on me too, but fair weather comes to those who wait—have you heard of this new amnesty?”

“Huh.” “Has there been word of an amnesty?”

“This time, the Song court has conducted His Highness the Crown Prince’s investiture ceremony, and a decree has been issued to reduce all criminals’ sentences by one degree.” “So even if you return and get caught now, it’ll likely just end with light exile at worst.” “And what about Lei Heng and Zhu Tong, the constables from back then?” “Neither remains at the constabulary anymore... The ones there now are constable brothers named Zhao Neng and Zhao De.”

Yet before Song Jiang had even been granted half a day’s respite at his ancestral home after making these inquiries— The Zhao brothers, Zhao Neng and Zhao De, swiftly learned of this and had arresting officers completely surround the outer walls of the Song family residence, “Will you come peacefully?” “Or shall we all storm in at once?”

they pressed in, their voices laced with intimidation. “They’ve already found us?” The old father wailed bitterly. But Song Jiang was happy just to have seen his father safe. Yet if he were to lose his composure here, it would only cause even greater distress to his aged father. Rather, he thought it would be better to quickly complete his punishment, return home honorably, and at least see out his elderly father’s remaining years. Hearing this, the old father was overcome with tears, but—

“It can’t be helped. If you’ve resolved yourself so, I’ll spare no money greasing official palms to lighten your sentence and hasten your return. I’ll await that day with hope.” Zhao was also made to attend this discussion. And through ample feasting and bribery’s power, Zhao’s men stayed overnight under the pretext of surveillance, and Song Jiang’s arrest was postponed until the following day.

The county magistrate remained unchanged from the time of the incident—it was none other than Shi Wenbin himself. “With this, I’ve fulfilled my official duty.” The magistrate promptly took Song Jiang’s written confession and sent it down to the prison. —But the whole town was immediately abuzz with that rumor, “Please forgive Mr. Clerk Song Jiang!” “Please ensure Mr. Clerk does not face a severe sentence.” A petition movement arose in response. By now, Yan Po—the mother of the woman Song Jiang had accidentally killed—had died of illness six months prior, and Zhang Wenyuan, the woman’s lover, though still lingering in a corner of the constabulary, lacked the courage to step forward as an antagonist amid the townspeople’s resentment.

Moreover, within the magistrate’s office there were many who sympathized with Song Jiang, and with generous funds from the Song family’s elderly father also being circulated, every matter was settled leniently, resulting in a verdict of “exile to Jiangzhou”—the lightest form of banishment under the amnesty’s name. Moreover, on the day he was exiled, nearly all the townspeople saw him off with tears, and his elderly father and younger brother Song Qing were permitted to slowly bid their farewells on the already deserted road outside the county.

The old father said.

“Jiangzhou grows plentiful rice, teems with fish, and enjoys mild weather.” “Keep your spirits high and endure your sentence patiently.” “When time allows, I’ll have your younger brother visit with funds.” “But your road to Jiangzhou inevitably passes near Liangshan Marsh.” “Those outlaws might try to snatch you away.” “Stay vigilant—don’t let them pull you into their ranks.” “Never become a son who betrays both loyalty and filial duty.”

“Yes, yes. Please don’t trouble yourself with such unnecessary worries.”

However, Song Jiang called his younger brother aside and whispered these final words into his ear. “No matter what happens, our father is elderly. “Please stay by his side morning and night, and attend to him with filial piety. “Do you hear me? “Leaving him neglected to come meet me in Jiangzhou—don’t even think about it!”

Thus he left his hometown. The escorting petty officials were two men named Li Wan and Zhang Qian. The escort officers had been on edge since the third day onward. This was because Liangshan Marsh lay near. Though they had taken a detour, on the fifth day, what they had long feared awaited them at a ridge. “Ah! Isn’t that Liu Tang?” When Song Jiang saw the forty or fifty underlings blocking the mountain path and their leader—the Red-Haired Demon—he cried out like this.

“Hey Master! We’ve come to welcome you!” “Hey everyone—let’s beat these two escorts to death right now!”

“Wait! Liu Tang!” “Liu Tang!” “Teacher, why are you stopping us?” “Let me borrow that sword.” “Without your hands getting dirty, I’ll make myself accept death and deliver the final blow.”

The two escorts cowered. —But Song Jiang aimed the tip of the borrowed sword toward his own throat. “Are you all trying to kill me?”

“Th-that’s no joke! Why would *you* do such a thing?” “Your concern is appreciated, but you all coming with violence amounts to forcing death upon this Song Jiang.” “What nonsense! Everyone at Liangshan Marsh worried day and night—we even discussed breaking into the county jail to rescue you! It nearly came to that!”

“Enough!” “All of this so-called kindness only poisons me.” “Would you truly push me into this chasm of disloyalty and unfilial conduct?” “Then I must take my own life here and now.” “Don’t try to stop me, Liu Tang!” “Wait, I beg you!” Liu Tang lunged forward and wrested the sword from his grasp. He sent his men scrambling back in one direction while maintaining an iron grip on Song Jiang with the other, “However I consider it—this matter exceeds my authority to decide.” “At least come to Liangshan Marsh with us, even if these escorts must accompany you.”

“Don’t talk nonsense.” “I am an exile.”

While they were arguing, Wu Yong the strategist and twenty to thirty horsemen who had received word came galloping up. The moment Hua Rong saw Song Jiang fitted with the cangue, his eyes burned hot. "What's with this huge crowd? —Why haven't you at least removed that cangue from him yet?"

“Oh, no.” Song Jiang immediately said. “This is the nation’s ordinance—a proper legal measure. No matter how well-meaning my friends may be, I do not want any unnecessary meddling.” “Ha ha ha,” laughed Strategist Wu Yong from nearby.

“That’s just like you.” “I fully understand your feelings.” “However, Chao Gai and all under his leadership are eager to meet you just once.” “How about it—won’t you come along for now?” “After that, we will resolutely see you off on your journey to the place of exile.”

“Ah! Only Mr. Wu truly understands my feelings.”

Song Jiang was pleased. He could not help but entrust matters to them. Yet the two bailiffs remained persistently at his side.

They boarded a boat from the riverbank. Ahead, they ascended the mountain path in palanquins and took a brief rest at Duanjin Pavilion. Before long, Chao Gai and all the leaders came to welcome them and guided them to the Assembly Hall. Following the seating order from their previous meeting, they placed Song Jiang’s chair at the center and lined up in two rows.

“Thanks to you, we’ve added nine new heroes to Liangshan Marsh and fortified our formation of dazzling stars.” “All of this stems from Mr. Song’s benevolence.” “No, no—Brother Chao, and all you esteemed brothers—please don’t mock me.” “Though I call it a mistake, I killed a worthless woman—this is my current state.” “Until I atone for my crimes and cleanse this defiled body, I cannot speak as an ordinary man under the sun.” “Now that we’ve met once, I must take my leave immediately.”

“Now, now—there’s no need to rush so urgently.” The group tried to detain him, but among them were those who ventured such schemes. “How about giving the two escorts ample silver and making them say, ‘Brother Song Jiang was seized by force at Liangshan Marsh’?” “Unwelcome advice indeed,” said Song Jiang, his face darkening as if personally wounded, “—I haven’t fulfilled even a single day’s filial care for my aged father. When I departed, he still spoke to me as one would a child at his knee.” “If I defy Heaven’s principles above and ignore my father’s teachings below, the longer I live, the more I’ll become an unfilial wretch who deepens my parents’ suffering through my misdeeds.” “If you esteemed brothers persist in bending my will, then Song Jiang can only bite through his tongue here and now to show you.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he collapsed beneath the chair with a thud, tears streaming down his face. Even these hardened heroes were startled, and they all rushed to help him up, each voicing words of consolation.

“We will no longer disturb your heart.” “We too feel anguish.” “Please calm your heart and, if only for half a day and night, consider the feelings of all of us and grace us with your presence here.”

He could not bring himself to break away until then. Surrounded by a quiet drinking gathering that night, they had already exchanged farewells as soon as dawn broke.

At the time of parting, Strategist Wu Yong had prepared a letter for Song Jiang and handed it over, saying— "There’s an unusual man in Jiangzhou—an old acquaintance of mine. His family name is Dai, given name Zong. Having long served there as a prison officer overseeing convicts, he’s known by all as Superintendent Dai." "This man isn’t just fiercely loyal—he possesses a rare Daoist art that lets him cover eight hundred li in a single day. He carries himself in a way that naturally draws people’s affection." "If the chance arises, you should meet him."

That morning, Song Jiang was seen off by boats lining the river. Moreover, having firmly declined the company's kind offer to escort him twenty li overland, Song Jiang hastened along the road to Jiangzhou as the two escorts kept driving him onward.

The road was long. Jiangzhou remained distant. Yet the two escorts now seemed genuinely astonished by Song Jiang’s moral authority and personal qualities. Consequently, they maintained meticulous attentiveness throughout the journey with the dutiful deference of servants tending their lord.

However, in this way, the grit characteristic of those escorts had essentially been lost.

Originally, it was said that to perform the role of an escort, one needed to be cold-blooded and fiendish like demons, with eyes as sharp as a falcon's—otherwise, the job could not be managed. For escorting vicious felons over numerous mountains and rivers to distant exile sites with only two fellow escorts, if there were any negligence or human compassion, who knew what might happen along the way?

Sure enough, these two—Li Wan and Zhang Qian—had completely reverted to their original good-natured selves, so that for over twenty days of travel all remained peaceful and harmonious. But when they finally reached Jieyang Ridge, now close to their destination of Jiangzhou, they encountered a terrible calamity. No—this was no mere calamity. The escorts Li Wan and Zhang Qian—and even Song Jiang—had carelessly drunk a midday cup at that ridge tea shop. Before they knew it, their hands could no longer wipe the drool from their lips, and afterward their lifeless husks in a deathlike state were cast away somewhere. In other words, this was none other than being caught in the net of one of the so-called "Three Overlords of Jiangzhou" in the Jiangzhou region. They only came to understand that this was a great calamity afterward; even had they realized it now, its form was already beyond reach.

Death awakened in the streets of this world; street performers were seen, and money changed hands.

Once past Jieyang Ridge, the road soon revealed the town of Xunyang River—famed for Bai Juyi’s “Song of the Pipa”. And stretching between water and sky was that grand yellow flow—needless to say, none other than the great Yangtze River.

Li Jun, a Yangtze River boatman nicknamed “Turbulent River Dragon,” brought along two companions named Tong Wei and Tong Meng that day and ascended the ridge path from the direction of the town. “Oh—Li Li’s shop is here. Let’s grab a drink there while we wait,” he said.

they peered into the ridge tea shop,

“Brother, are you there?”

With that, they trooped in. Li Li, the proprietor—wearing a grimy servant’s headband and a single short workman’s coat that exposed his hairy, muscular arms—sat at the dimly lit kitchen’s earthen entrance, one hairy shin crossed over his knee as he stared blankly into space.

“Oh, Bro?” With a face like someone roused from a dream, he got up. “What’s with you, Li Li? You’re looking awfully gloomy.” “Now then, there’s someone waiting at this ridge.” “We’re borrowing the shop.” “Yeah, sure thing.” “But with all of you together, who exactly are you waiting to meet?” “From what someone from Jizhou said last night—there’s a man called Song Gongming being exiled to this Jiangzhou. When I checked the dates and route, he’s bound to pass through this Jieyang Ridge within the next two or three days.” “That’s why I rounded up some companions and came to welcome him—Li Li, you ought to meet him without fail.”

“Huh?” Li Li’s large eyes rolled restlessly. “What’s so special about this Song Gongming anyway?” “You idiot! What nonsense! In this absurd world of ours, there might be those who don’t know the prime ministers’ or ministers’ names—but there isn’t a soul unaware of Shandong’s Timely Rain, Song Gongming! No matter what kind of gangster you meet, if they hear it’s the righteous Song Jiang, they’d clear the path and let him through—that’s how it goes.”

“Hmm... I wonder?” “Oh, Li Li! You’ve suddenly started shaking like a leaf out of nowhere. Did something happen?”

“Oh no!”

“What do you mean, ‘not good’?” “Brother—actually—just now—I used that numbing drug to knock out two escorts and a small-built, dark-skinned prisoner with a neck yoke. Could that be him?” “Damn! A dark-skinned person!” He looked back at his companions. “Brothers—Li Li’s bastard seems to have killed him! I’d long heard Song Jiang was called Black Second Son for his dark skin.”

The two companions were also astonished and surrounded Li Li, “When?” “How?” “And why?” they interrogated and pressed him in rapid succession. Li Li was speechless. The deed had been done just moments before. Li Li stammered haltingly that he had intended to drag the three drugged bodies to the kitchen drain and dismember them immediately, but upon examining their belongings, he found an unexpectedly large sum of money for a prisoner and letters addressed to Dai Yuanzhang of Jiangzhou—which unsettled him slightly and left him pondering blankly.

“Tch! This was heaven’s will—us coming here,” said Li Jun. “That’s exactly Lord Song Gongming’s doing. Check the escort documents in those officers’ pockets to be safe! And hurry—the antidote! Li Li! If he doesn’t revive with that, I won’t let you live either!” In the dim back room, after a flurry of rebukes, hurried footsteps, and the clatter of tumbling objects, voices of joy soon welled up, and Song Jiang’s voice—along with those of the escort officers—finally began to be heard.

There’s no need for tedious explanations here.

It wasn’t that Song Jiang glared indignantly at the collective apology from the four local leaders. Rather than anger, he laughed that his temporary death had let him glimpse the underworld. Entrusting the night to Li Li’s apologies and hospitality, they descended to Jieyang Town’s foothills first thing next morning. “You must stay at my house for one night too!” There too, River Churning Dragon Li Jun persistently detained Song Jiang. They ultimately became guests for the night. At that evening’s drinking party, Li Jun formally reintroduced the two sworn brothers Tong Wei and Tong Meng to Song Jiang.

It was said that both of them were salt smugglers operating across the Yangtze River. And Tong Wei bore the nickname Cave-Emerging Flood Dragon, while Tong Meng had the epithet River-Churning Mirage Beast. Both, like river imps of the Yangtze, were adept at diving and clinging to boat bottoms for hours without faltering. Listening to such boastful stories, Song Jiang found himself forgetting the weariness of his journey. Moreover, on such occasions, it was customary for the master to hand a generous gratuity to the two escorts. The escorts Li Wan and Zhang Qian were beaming. Then they left there, and by around noon entered a bustling, old-fashioned town they hadn’t seen in some time.

“Come one, come all! Ladies and gentlemen!”

It was in the midst of a bustling crowd at a certain crossroads. There was a street hawker straining his hoarse voice loudly like this. Looking, there stood a man with an emaciated body like a bamboo pole, lanky and tall. He wore a decayed-leaf-brown snail-shell headcloth, his cheeks darker still with moss-hued stubble beneath disheveled sideburns, absurdly clad in a moth-eaten tattered robe with leather belt and boots, legs spread wide as he shook his fist at the sky.

“The day is young! If you’re not on official business or in haste, I’d ask you to set aside my preamble and watch even the secret techniques of my next performance at your leisure. […] Now, though you may doubt where I hail from, as you can plainly see, I’m neither ape nor baboon—but a fellow human! This is my first time in your esteemed town. Using those very spears and staffs over there, I’ll demonstrate secret techniques! But if you’re to make your way in this world—spears won’t put food on your table, staves won’t fill your belly. So how do you eat? I must sell that ointment! Cuts, burns, bruises—effective for anything! A wondrous divine cure! In fact, I’ll give it away free! But with this crowd, I can’t possibly reach everyone—your discretion will suffice. To those who kindly donate even a small sum as viewing fee for the performance—one plaster per donor! Or rather, depending on your generosity, even several dozen plasters! Clear? Now then—any amount at all! Generous donations! Generous donations!”

He held out his collection basin and began circling around the ring of spectators once, twice—over and over—but not a single copper coin ended up in the basin. Seeing the hawker's utter dejection, Song Jiang suddenly took pity and lightly tossed a silver piece onto the man's basin.

“Oh! This is five taels!” The ointment peddler trembled with emotion and studied Song Jiang’s appearance intently for a moment before suddenly turning to the other spectators and chanting mockingly: “Ah! The Zheng Yuanhe of old—that legendary wastrel! Brothels squander gold through wanton waste— The gleaming coin spent all in vain—”

“A coin without guts can’t be spent!” “Well now good people—appearances deceive! That one there wearing the cangue—who’d think such kindness’d drip from him? Shows this rotten world ain’t given up on me yet... Ah but truly—this lowly wretch owes you deep. If it please you sir—might this dog know your noble name?” “Think nothing of it—just a whim that passed through me.”

So saying, Song Jiang averted his face from the crowd’s gaze. Then, someone thumped him on the back.

When he turned around in surprise, there stood an exceptionally large young man. Contorted with rage, the young man roared at the ointment seller: “Hey! You’re some no-name bastard who’s come to Jieyang Town and dared set up shop without permission—using your pathetic excuse for martial arts as bait to hustle on the streets! And you there with the cangue! What gives you the right to throw your money at this piece of scum?!”

“This is…” Song Jiang gave a wry smile. “I merely gave my own money.”

“You’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong!” “That’s what you call meddling!” “Keep up this meddling, and you won’t get off scot-free!” “This is utterly troublesome.” “What do you mean ‘troublesome’?!”

The moment the young man’s fist came with a growl straight at him, Song Jiang instinctively dodged. “Grr…” From the hulking figure who had been thrown off balance, genuine rage now seemed to ignite. A cloud of dust erupted as the crowd scrambled back. However, the one who had been thrown was not Song Jiang, but the young man. Fiercely, he stood up again, but in that instant, the ointment seller’s sharp toe kicked the young man square in the chest. Staggering back into the crowd, the young man’s face had already turned pale,

“L-Look here, damn you!” “This ain’t gonna end here!” Using that parting remark like squid ink, he fled into the town without a trace. As a result, the crowd dispersed, returning the area to its dreary crossroads scene, and the ointment seller also hurriedly packed his belongings before rushing after Song Jiang, who was walking ahead.

“Excuse me,”

“Oh… What is it?”

“Could it be that you are Lord Timely Rain of Shandong?” “Huh? You are...” “I am from Henan Luoyang, called Xue Yong, and am known by the nickname Sickly Tiger. ...for my grandfather once served as a military officer under Military Commissioner His Excellency Zhong, but after our family fell into prolonged hardship as masterless samurai, this one has ended up making such a living.” “My apologies for the late introduction. As you have discerned, I am Song Jiang.”

“Ah, so it was indeed as I thought,” “How about this?” “Though this fortune surpasses my wildest hopes, I find it unbearable to let our serendipitous encounter with your noble character end here.” “…Might we share a midday meal at some humble tavern nearby?” “As it’s precisely noon, I’ve no objection,” Song Jiang consulted the guards. Li Wan and Zhang Qian naturally showed faces of assent.

And so, the group of four said, “Pardon us,” and entered a small tavern. However, the tavern owner was curt and unfriendly. Dishes, rice, wine—no matter what they ordered, everything was bluntly refused. When they inquired about the reason, this was why: “You folks just had a fight with one of the so-called Three Overlords of Jiangzhou at that crossroads back there, didn’t you? Well now, that was dangerous. Even on ordinary days, if that one overlord takes notice of you, a place like this would get smashed to pieces in no time. He was just here shouting and making the rounds. Said we ain’t gonna lend seats to those bastards or sell ’em anything either!”

Realizing this must be the case, the four laughed and left, but wherever they went, they were similarly refused service. And so, having no other choice, they parted ways with Xue Yong, the Sickly Tiger, on the road, and at their parting, Song Jiang further bestowed upon him twenty taels of silver. “I am indebted to you,” said Xue Yong as he respectfully accepted the silver. “I too shall make my way to Jiangzhou Prefecture before long, so perhaps we may meet again there. ...Please take care when crossing the river.”

With that, he left. The trouble began that evening. They tried cheap inn after cheap inn, but whenever keepers saw the three of them, every lodging would wave them off no matter where they went. They were utterly confounded by the terrifying reach of the overlord's influence and couldn't help marveling at it.

"This won’t do," he thought. "Let’s change our route and try exiting the main road for the outskirts." However, even at the occasional country inns they came across, the refusal was the same. But as far as calamities went, it could be considered minor. Song Jiang resigned himself and muttered about camping out tonight—but Li Wan, the guard suddenly noticed a lamp in a side road and what appeared to be an old estate gate,

“Ah! A civilian household might take us in.” “Let me try asking over there. Please wait here.”

With that, he suddenly ran off toward that light.

Reeds summoned their kin as the Three Overlords of the Yangtze convened at a single manor.

Xunyang River’s Edge / Night / Seeing Off a Guest

Maple leaves, reed flowers—autumn rustling——

This was the opening verse of Bai Juyi's poem "Song of the Pipa," but Song Jiang in his current circumstances could scarcely indulge in such wistful nostalgia for travel's melancholy. Nor was this an age like the prosperous Tang Dynasty that had allowed Bai Juyi his poetic and vinous indulgences—no golden era this. A dark wind from this terrifying world of uncertain tomorrows flowed ink-like through the night sky near the Yangtze, staining even the color of stars that filled the heavens with an eerie desolation.

“Huh? A voice?” Song Jiang thought. He immediately raised his head from the pillow. The two low-ranking guard officers sleeping beside him were dead to the world. This was a gatehouse at a rustic old estate. Earlier that evening, guard Li Wan had knocked on the estate gate and met its elderly master. “We’ve come all the way from Shandong’s government office,” he’d explained, “escorting an exile to Jiangzhou.” After requesting overnight lodging and finally securing it with a sigh of relief, they had just managed to fall asleep.

……Hmm. That voice… Could it be familiar?

The neck cangue was removed during sleep by both guards, who were now loyal to Song Jiang. Song Jiang quietly surveyed the wide leaf-strewn path inside the estate from the bamboo window of the gatekeeper’s hut. —A white-bearded old master stood there.—Opposite him, a tall burly man with seven or eight young followers in tow was barking something. And the smoldering of the torches they carried stained those figures a deep red, rendering them all the more ominous.

“What? Brother drank himself to sleep?!” The burly man’s voice was gruff yet tinged with a whining tone. Was he perhaps the old master’s son? If so, given how he kept saying “brother” over and over, he must be the second son. “Where’s that brother of mine sleeping?” “Wake him up, old man.” “If he hears we let ’em escape, Brother’ll be pissed as hell later!”

“Another fight? Stop this at once.” “This ain’t just some fight! I was made a fool of—in front of everyone in Jieyang Town.” “It’s because you’ve been throwing your weight around too much. Now get inside and go to sleep—go to sleep!” “How can I sleep when this fire’s still burning in my gut?!” “What in heaven’s name happened? To be shamed before the whole town...” “Some no-account wandering ronin peddling ointments had set up shop without permission! When I tried to chase him off, some damn busybody from the crowd stuck his nose where it didn’t belong!”

Listening to the burly man’s words, it seemed this was indeed about that incident from earlier in the day.—Song Jiang’s hand resting on the bamboo window turned cold. Indeed, a creeping terror bristled through him. The burly man kept cursing: “Beating him to death wouldn’t be enough!” “It’s true! I heard all along the way that the cangue bastard and those three guards fled in this direction! I’ll inform Brother—we’re not letting them get away!” he kept shouting.

However, whether he had been calmed down by his old father or had gone to rouse his brother himself, they all noisily retreated toward the main house’s wing. Song Jiang, thinking "Now’s our chance!" shook the two guards awake and explained the situation,

“We can’t stay here another moment.” “We’ve no choice—we’ll flee through the night roads.” He urged them. Li Wan and Zhang Qian were aghast; cradling Song Jiang’s neck cangue, they smashed through the window and tumbled out. What followed were three figures in a mindless frenzy. Country roads, wild paths, reed fields—and that leaden gleam of water—had they already reached the Yangtze River’s banks?

Behind them, scattered torches were closing in. It was the shouts of more than ten people. Sharp whistles pierced the air. They had been discovered—good grief!

"Heavens!" Song Jiang prayed as he ran. His breath gave out. The footsteps behind came fast. Unable to endure any longer, they plunged into a reed thicket ready to be drenched. Trembling, they crawled through the reed roots.

“Damn it!” “Where the hell did they disappear to?”

A moment of terror raced past the nearby embankment. The two guards lifted their heads like mud turtles, “Got it! Mr. Song Jiang—I see a boat right there in the inlet! It’s our rescue!” “Huh? There’s a boat?”

“Let’s try asking… Hey boatman! Save us.” “We’ll give you all the gold you want.” “Ferry us to safety.”

“What?” “Where’re you from and who the hell are you?”

It was the boatman’s voice.

As his alcohol-reeking body that had been lying in the boat's bottom abruptly sat up, he glared and swept his eyes over the three figures, “Don’t board,” he said curtly. “Thank heavens!” In a frenzy of panicked supplication, the three immediately leapt aboard. Li Wan dumped the travel baggage with a thud, Zhang Qian set down the neck cangue, and together with the boatman’s pole, thrust against the bank using his police baton. Swaying gently, the boat emerged onto the wide water surface. The boatman discarded the pole and switched to an oar. At once, the sharp whistles from earlier pierced through nearby darkness again. The torches and group of nearly twenty figures that had passed by earlier instantly realized their mistake and turned back.

“Hey! Boatman! You can’t take that boat!” “Get back here! Turn around!” “If you don’t turn back, you’ll regret it! Hey! Boatman! Boatman!” They trembled with desperation. Their lives hinged on the boatman’s reply. In the boat, Song Jiang and his two companions nearly wrung their hands as they exchanged trembling whispers. “Don’t turn back, Mr. Boatman.” “I beg you—don’t go back!” “Those villains will kill us if they catch us. We’ll pay any price. Let us go!”

The boatman maintained his silence, only continuing to row. However, as they walked along the shore, the violent flames and shadows of the crowd clung relentlessly wherever they went. “Hey! Boatman! Don’t you know who we are?” The boatman snorted derisively. “I know exactly whose voices you’re using—the likes of yours.” “Then turn back!” “No way.” “Don’t come barking complaints later, bastard!” “I hear tomorrow’s gonna be fine weather.” “What the hell! We’ve got business with that criminal exiled to Jiangzhou you took aboard. Hand him over, and we’ll let you off easy.”

“Hell no,” the boatman brazenly retorted. “We outlaws got our own trade to mind. Went through all that trouble takin’ this fine guest aboard. You think I’d hand ’im over now—just when I’m ’bout to treat ’im to some ‘razor-slicing’ banquet?” “Still stubborn?” “Quit yappin’. This here’s my bread and butter. Go suck last week’s piss!” The boat heaved through the water with full oar strokes. In moments, they left the reed-bed fires and clamor far behind—until nothing remained but the great river’s endless flow, swallowing all in its moonlit swell.

“I’m indebted.”

When Song Jiang said this, Li Wan and Zhang Qian also muttered with relieved expressions.

“Ah, we’ve escaped calamity at last,” they muttered with relieved expressions. “He’s our lifesaver, this Mr. Boatman.” However, even when faced with the trio’s gratitude, the boatman wore a snort-like expression. And while handling the oar in a tipsy mood, he hummed a Huzhou ditty in a slightly low, beautiful voice: Had I any Buddha’s compassion, I wouldn’t be living this kind of life. A reed born from its roots from the start I live by wind and water.

For some reason, Song Jiang was startled.

Now calmly, he contemplated this man he had seen in the starlight. He had come to realize this man was no ordinary figure.

“Mr. Boatman, this area is fine now. Could you pull over somewhere around here?”

“Don’t mess around,” the boatman sneered. “You think you’ve cheated death?” “Huh?” Song Jiang gaped. “I’ve already given you your last rites in advance.” The blade in his hand caught moonlight as he grinned. “The ‘thin-blade slices’ banquet comes next.” “What’s ‘thin-blade slices’?” “Eager to see?” With a clatter, the boatman discarded his oar handle. He flipped up a floorboard and drew out a gleaming blade honed to razor sharpness— “One swipe per head—three of you means three strokes. No fuss at all.” He licked his lips. “Then we feast on sashimi.”

and thrust the blade's tip forward. Not even a scream escaped.

The two public security officers clung to Song Jiang. Even Song Jiang could do nothing about the trembling crawling up his back, his pale face frozen stiff. Truly, as the proverb goes, "Misfortunes never come singly." Song Jiang looked up at the sky and thought: Truly, the sin of filial impiety is dreadful. So now I’m to die—not just paying for my own sins, but dragging these two good-natured officers down with me?

However, still unable to resign himself, he mustered a desperate clutch on life. "Wait, Mr. Boatman!" "You're still flappin' your gums." "I ain't no regular ferryman, y'know." "Understood—you're a Yangtze River pirate then." "I ain't some water bandit or nothin'—you lot waltzed right into my net while I was nappin' with the river as my pillow." "This trade—can't exactly up an' quit it now, can I?"

“I’ll give you money, so please spare us this blade onslaught.” “Hey now—don’t go stating the obvious.” “Stripping you down to your skin is our standard practice.” “And on top of that—not even half a soul’s getting outta here alive.” “Wh-why…? Why is that?” “Ain’t it obvious.” “You’re Jiangzhou-bound petty officials and an exiled convict, ain’t ya?” “Try saving yourselves, and next thing you know, the authorities’ll come sniffing around here.” “Enough talk—shut your eyes.” “If you ain’t fond of thin-blade cuisine, strip bare and plunge headfirst into the water yourself.”

The boatman suddenly stood up and first began to extend one hand toward Song Jiang’s collar. Just then, from upstream on the Yangtze River, a swift boat came streaking down like an arrow. With each spray against its gunwales—zah, zah, zah—it drew near no sooner than— “Hey! Ain’t that Zhang’s boat?”

He quickly hooked a pole and called out. The boatman who had been called Zhang flinched slightly but turned back nonchalantly.

“Oh! Brother Li!” “Damn... Today’s been brutal.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Zhang?” “You went and ditched me during the upstream job!” “I couldn’t find you. But seems you pulled off some slick job solo and made a killing—worked out fine, didn’t it?” “I’m a joke. Lately women dump me and gambling’s cleaned me out. There I was swigging misery wine tonight too, sulking in my reed-screen bed—when these three fat geese waltzed right into my lap!”

“Ain’t those geese acting mighty strange?” “Admittedly, on land, seems they were being chased by those Mu brothers over some grudge... But glancing at ’em—two public security officers and one dark-skinned Jiangzhou-bound exile.” “For a prisoner, he’s got the nerve to take off his cangue.” “Hah! Figured this guy was carrying silver. So Brother Mu and his crew started hollering ‘Hand it over!’ and making a ruckus on shore. But this is my trade—ended up not giving back a single coin in the end.”

“Hey, Zhang! Let me hear that again. You said he’s a dark-skinned Jiangzhou-bound exile. Is he there? That man.” “Hmm, this one here.”

“Could it be…?” Suddenly, one of the three men on the swift boat leaped across to this vessel, his feet dancing in rapid rhythm as he moved. “Could it be… you there are Mr. Clerk Song?”

“What?” Song Jiang jolted upright, then flung both hands skyward before he could stop himself. “You’re Li Jun from before!” “I am Li Jun,” came the reply. “You couldn’t have forgotten—we met at Jieyang Pass’s tea house, and only two nights ago you stayed at my humble home before our parting.” “Why are you here?” “I meant to stay home today, but come evening my heart grew restless. When that happens, I think—why not patrol the Great River? Raid a smuggler’s salt junk for drinking money? So I invited two sworn brothers and set out.” A dry chuckle escaped him. “Seems fate’s thread remains unbroken.”

The one who was shocked was the boatman called Zhang, who had been about to perform his thin-blade cutting. Dazed, his gaping mouth refused to close. "Brother Li—what in the world is going on with this guy?" "So this is how it must be. You’ve narrowly escaped with your life there yourself." "Huh? Is it me?" "Is it me?" "That’s right. This here is Shandong’s Timely Rain, Clerk Song. If you dare try any reckless moves with that thin blade, you’ll either face our immediate judgment or be driven out of this land for good."

“Gah! “So… that’s the man?”

With a clatter, Zhang threw down the thin blade and prostrated himself there. Then, taking their group’s highest form of courtesy and apology, he repeated: “...We failed to recognize you. Whatever punishment you deem fit for this offense, I shall bear no grudge.”

Before long, the two boats rowed a short distance, and all went ashore onto a sandbar. Gathering dried reeds, one of them struck flint stones with a clatter. They gathered around the fire to warm the wine and drank from whatever vessels they had, passing them around.

The other two that Li Jun, the Turbulent River Dragon, had brought with him were Tong Wei, the Cave Emerging Flood, and Tong Meng, the River Overturning Mirage.

This was already something Song Jiang had come to recognize. There was no need for renewed introductions.

The unfamiliar one was the boatman Zhang.

Thereupon, Li Jun said to him.

“When it comes to righteous men in the realm today, there’s only one—Shandong’s Song Gongming. Even the peasants and fishermen around here know that.” “And you, living on the Yangtze, don’t even know that? What a disgrace you’re draggin’ through the mud!” “You’d better bow properly in the light of this bonfire.”

“I have no face to show you. If it’s just your name, even I had long known of it. But I never imagined that someone like you would come down right before my eyes.” Zhang was one of Li Jun’s sworn brothers; his given name was Heng, and he went by the nickname Boat Fire Boy—born on an island in the river, they said, a product of Xiaogu Mountain.

Zhang Heng had another younger brother by blood.

A peerless master of swimming who could slice through ten *ri* underwater and held the record of staying submerged for seven days and seven nights without surfacing. And because of the whiteness of his skin, which resembled a fish’s belly, people called him Zhang Shun, the White Streak in the Waves.

Now, originally, these brothers Zhang Heng and Zhang Shun had been engaged in an unlicensed ferry business commonly called “private crossings.”

Between the small cities along both banks of the Yangtze River, smuggling operations evading customs and black-market traders actively came and went. They would take on passengers—whether returning from gambling dens or simply ordinary travelers—and once they reached mid-river, the Zhang brothers would commence their prearranged plundering. First came the sudden splash of an anchor being thrown—then Heng would produce a thin-bladed cleaver. Reeling off terrifying threats, they would extort from passengers not just the agreed fare but every item in their pockets.

It was on the Yangtze River. Most ended up trembling violently. However, Zhang Shun, the White Streak in the Waves—who had disguised himself as a passenger and boarded—snapped, “Don’t mess with me!” and began to resist. With that one as his opponent, Zhang Heng staged a theatrical brawl before throwing him into the Yangtze River.

There was no going back now. Inside the boat, nothing remained but trembling devoid of vitality. Zhang Heng would stare vacantly, thoroughly shaking down each passenger’s pockets to seize their silver and belongings before landing them on a suitable shore and driving them off. And when they lit a fire on the boat, his younger brother Zhang Shun would soon shake the water from his fish-belly-white body and clamber aboard from the river. In this manner, they had made considerable ill-gotten gains—all squandered on wine, gambling, and women—but lately this method had grown notorious and dried up completely. Thereupon, Zhang Shun washed his hands of that life and switched to running a fish wholesaler in Jiangzhou, while Zhang Heng still lingered in these parts, grumbling about the dismal state of the plank ferry trade as he sneakily continued his mischief.

“Ah, well...” With that, Zhang Heng scratched his head. “My tale ain’t exactly refined, but since I’m speakin’ to Clerk Song here, I couldn’t bring myself to tell even the smallest lie.” “To be honest, I’m such a scoundrel through and through—but even so, I keep wishin’ I could become a true man if ever given the chance.” “Hey now—when you grace Jiangzhou with your presence, I’ll fix up a letter for ya. Do me the kindness of meetin’ my no-good brother who runs that fish business there.”

Along with his confession, Zhang said. Then Li Jun started them all bursting into laughter, "Well now! Zhang Heng's actin' mighty humble all of a sudden." "Then you better hightail it to the village schoolhouse and get that teacher to scribble out a letter pronto!" they ribbed him in turn.

They had grown so comfortable with one another that even such jokes could be made.

Just then, clusters of torches began to appear on the distant shore. Compared to Song Jiang, the two constables were the ones who immediately panicked and rushed out. “Ah! Those bastards from before are still putting up a fight!”

“Don’t panic,” said Li Jun, standing up. He clamped a finger between his lips and let out a whistle that pierced through the night air like a blade over water. The torches that had seemed to retreat across the shore now revealed their true path—they had circled through the reeds blanketing the sandbar and were drawing near. Li Jun’s eyes locked onto the approaching group. “Honored Brothers Mu!” he shouted. “The Timely Rain of Shandong we’ve praised day after day—Clerk Song Jiang himself stands before us! Come on, everyone! Pay your respects! Pay your respects!”

“What’s that?” Those referred to as “Mu” were the brothers of the old landowning Mu family where they had attempted to stay earlier that evening.

“Yeah.” Song Jiang, too, now nodded in acknowledgment with a smile. Undoubtedly, that brawny man was the same one who, that very day at noon in Jieyang Town’s crossroads, had threatened the street performer’s ronin and relentlessly chased after him.

“Li Jun,” said the brawny man in a slightly deflated tone. “Really?” “Take a good look with a man’s eyes at the man himself—I’ve been in his company since the day before yesterday. I’ve also had the honor of viewing the official dispatch from Jizhou to the Jiangzhou Magistrate’s Office. And for one night, we talked about your circumstances and my background before sleeping under the same roof.”

“Dammit!”

With that, Mu’s sons threw down the loquat-wood sword they had been carrying and prostrated themselves on the ground alongside their elder brother. It was the elder brother who offered the apology. "We were completely unaware," he said. "I humbly beg you to graciously overlook our extreme discourtesies." The elder brother was named Mu Hong, his nickname being Unrestrained. The younger brother was Mu Chun; Little Restraint was his epithet. The Mu family were wealthy landowners along the riverbank—in short, these two were their sons. With that, Li Jun formally introduced them and added another comment.

“In truth, this region has what’s called the ‘Three Overlords.’ First, Li Li from that teahouse and I have staked out the area above and below Jieyang Town’s ridge as our territory, forming one overlord.” “Also, in Jieyang Town proper, these Mu brothers form another overlord.” “Next, on the Yangtze River, Zhang Heng and Zhang Shun—the two of them—hold another overlord position, making up the ‘Three Overlords’ that control this area in such a manner.” “I see.” “So ‘Overlord’ means local bosses?” “Modeled after the Three Kingdoms of Later Han, I see.”

Song Jiang laughed. And with that, “Since we’re comrades of this sort, would you grant this one’s request to pardon that ronin ointment peddler Xue Yong?” “You needn’t even ask.”

Mu Hong addressed his younger brother Mu Chun: “Send a young man at once.” “…And little brother, you must guide Clerk Song back to our residence immediately.” “This half-hearted apology won’t suffice.” “Even if His Honor says he forgives us, taking leave like this would weigh on our conscience.”

At their core, were even yakuza children of the Buddha’s compassionate heart?

The Black Whirlwind Li Kui’s Formal Audience

At the wealthy landowner Mu family estate along the riverbank, they welcomed a large number of guests at dawn. The two sons, looking triumphant, first introduced Song Jiang—the unexpected guest they brought back from the river—to their parents. “Oh! So this is the renowned Lord Song Gongming?” The old master narrowed his eyes. The family’s hospitality went without saying. The entire family pulled out all the stops for a grand feast that day.

Midway through the banquet, the young man who had earlier been sent as a messenger searched through the town and brought back Xue Yong, the ronin ointment peddler known as the Sick Tiger. “……What’s this?” With that, Xue Yong could only stand astonished and dumbfounded.

For his sake, Song Jiang earnestly asked the Mu family members to look after him even after he himself had departed. The brothers Mu Hong and Mu Chun responded: "Oh, you needn’t worry. We’ll take care of it." They readily agreed. Meanwhile, Zhang Heng had somehow prepared a letter, which he handed to Song Jiang while saying: "When you arrive in Jiangzhou, please do not forget my younger brother—a man named Zhang Shun." All sorts of things happened, and the entire day was spent in a lively banquet of fellowship. Then, on the next day and the day after that as well, people took Song Jiang out into Jieyang Town’s inner city to show him all the famous landmarks, bustling street corners, performances, and every possible sight there was to see.

Having been utterly overwhelmed with gratitude, Song Jiang made this announcement to the group.

“Truly, your kindness—I shall never forget it as long as I live. That said, as a convict in exile, it would be disrespectful to the authorities to indulge your hospitality like this any longer. Tomorrow, I absolutely must bid you farewell.”

Now. On the eve of that day, the whole group gathered once more for a farewell banquet. What particularly struck Song Jiang at the banquet was how the Mu family’s beautiful youngest daughter, holding a pipa, performed *Song of the Pipa*—said to have been composed by the Mid-Tang poet Bai Juyi when he was demoted to Sima there—in connection with the local landmark of Xunyang River. In the preface to *Song of the Pipa*, its origin is narrated as follows. “In the tenth year of Yuanhe during the Mid-Tang period, I was demoted to Sima of Jiujiang Prefecture. One autumn night, I saw off a guest at the docks.

Then from a boat somewhere came the sound of a pipa being played. The sound carried the capital's refinement, unbefitting this rural backwater. When asked who played it, they said she had been a Chang’an singing girl now wed to some merchant. Moved by pity, I had wine brought to the boat and begged her to play several pieces. When she finished playing, she hung her head sorrowfully—seeming to recall youthful loves and happier days—then entrusted her current life of disappointment and poverty to the desolate expanse of great rivers and lakes, speaking faintly of her wandering circumstances.

"I, Bai Juyi, having become a distant local official and not seen the capital for two years, had never had my heart so stirred as on that night. The joys and sorrows of life, the grief of displacement—I felt I had seen them all embodied in this woman. Thereupon I composed a long poem of six hundred and twelve characters in total, presented it to her as solace, and titled it 'Song of the Pipa.'" Song Jiang recited this from memory. The maiden’s pipa began strumming its strings, and with the mournful tones of the poem spilling from her crimson lips, the assembly fell as silent as still water.

At Xunyang River’s edge by night—seeing off a guest, Maple leaves and reed flowers—autumn lies desolate. The host dismounts from his horse; the guest abides in the boat.

They raised wine to drink, but there was no music. Drunk yet finding no joy; in misery, they prepared to part. At parting—boundless—the river bathed in moonlight. Suddenly came the sound of a pipa over the water. “Ah...” Song Jiang finally shed tears. He found himself longing for his hometown. His old father had loved the pipa. It seemed he regretted—“If only this were a pipa we could listen to together”—and was tormented by his own unfilialness. Seeking the voice, he quietly inquired: “Who is the one playing?”

The pipa's sound ceased; attempting to speak was too late.

They moved their boats closer, met face to face. They poured more wine, lit lamps around them, and reopened the banquet. Though summoned through endless pleas, when she finally appeared—

Still holding the pipa, she half-veiled her face.

She tightened the pegs and plucked the strings - two or three notes. Before the melody had taken form, there was first feeling. "......"

Song Jiang was again struck by a strange feeling. The lamps burned brightly in the gathering, and the absence of voices was not particularly strange—but looking at the assembled faces—Li Jun, Zhang Heng, Mu Hong, Mu Chun, Xue Yong, Tong Wei, Tong Meng—each one reeked of bloodshed and reckless savagery. What power could make those rough men listen so reverently, bowing their heads with purity like newborns from their first breath? Each string held in check, each note laden with longing Resembling a lifelong lament over unfulfilled ambitions.

Her brows lowered as she surrendered to her hands, playing on and on. She expressed thoroughly—the infinite matters within her heart. "...Yes—this kind of unresolvable longing fills the hearts of today's youth." "Is it that the disorder under Song rule—which fails to draw out and nurture them—creates these social conditions, making their rebellion take form as Liangshan Marsh?" While his ears rang with the strings' vibrations, Song Jiang whispered these self-questioning answers within his chest. The piece progressed—the thick strings clamorous, the thin strings plaintive—

Putting away the plectrum, she etched it upon her heart. The four strings' single note—like rending silk. The eastern boats and western boats fell silent, wordless.

They merely gaze at the autumn moon’s whiteness in the river’s heart. Before he knew it, Song Jiang forgot everything. Entranced, he felt as though his body were in the boat alongside Sima’s guest.

――She herself relates: Originally, this was a woman of the capital. Her home lay beneath Toad Mound.

At thirteen, she mastered the pipa’s art. Her name belonged to the Jiaofang’s First Division.

When her piece ended, she once made even masters bow. When adorned, she was ever envied by Qiu Niang. The youths of Wuling competed to present silken gifts. The poem went on singing her life’s journey in this way. This year’s mirth becomes next year’s Autumn moons, spring breezes—unawares, they pass by.

Her younger brother ran off to join the army; her aunt died.

Evening departed; morning came—her complexion faded. Before the gate grew desolate; saddled horses too grew rare. Reaching old age, she married to become a merchant’s wife. Merchants valued profit; they disregarded separation. Last month, he had left for Fuliang to buy tea. Since he left, she had guarded the empty boat at the river mouth— Moonlight encircled the boat; the river’s waters turned cold. Deep into night, she dreamed abruptly of youthful days. When she wept in dreams, her makeup-stained tears crimson flowed freely. Song Jiang jolted. From the entire gathering came the sound of stifled sobs. Even those who could crush demons had all wet their faces. So it was. They too had tears of true emotion. They had parents, they had lovers, they had children—they did have all manner of bonds. Touched by something related to those bonds, their true feelings must have flowed out through the strings and the poem.

No—this was no mere bystander’s affair. Song Jiang too was quietly wiping the corners of his eyes with his finger.

Morning.—At Jieyang Town’s docks, those who had been present the previous night were no longer there; they had shared their sorrow over Song Jiang’s farewell.

“Please take good care of yourself.” The words were common ones of the world, but they were filled with heartfelt emotions and respect. The assorted farewell gifts overflowed beyond what both hands could hold.

Soon the ship departed. It was a rather large vessel. The wind whistled through its reed sail while the Yangtze's yellow waters gently lapped against the gunwale, and in moments both the people waving from the riverbank and the town itself had faded into the distance. That same day, the ship reached Jiangzhou. Upon arrival, even the escort official abruptly assumed the demeanor of a low-ranking petty officer. Of course Song Jiang's cangue remained rigorously fastened; after completing official documentation procedures, transferring custody, and obtaining verification certificates from both magistrate's office and prison camp, they promptly returned to Jizhou.

At that time, the magistrate governing all of Jiangzhou was a man named Cai Dezhang. As he was the ninth son of Cai Jing—the powerful minister of the current Song Dynasty—people referred to him as Lord Cai Jiu. From Magistrate Cai Jiu’s office, Song Jiang’s custody was immediately transferred to the prison camp. Having long been aware of how things worked, Song Jiang distributed the gold and silver in his possession without reservation among the various officials in charge. At this time, especially in this world, bribery was not considered a vice at all. It was mutual common sense. And so, from the prison warden and jailers to the clerks and guards—

“What a fine new inmate—such a generous one!” As for Song Jiang, they all looked kindly upon him. The new inmate managed to avoid even receiving the hundred lashes of the customary killing rod. There came a time when the captain of the patrol soldiers quietly cautioned Song Jiang. “Hey, you're getting ahead of yourself. Why haven’t you greased the palm of the most important prison superintendent—the Superintendent of Jiangzhou’s Twin Courts? He seems quite put out.” “Oh, is that right?”

“Is that right? You’re acting all nonchalant—why don’t you do something about it right away?” “Nah, I’ll leave it be. Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh... Hey, hey—don’t go blaming people later. This Superintendent here—his martial skills are top-notch, and his temper’s fierce. Don’t come crying to me when shit hits the fan.” Sure enough, not long after that, a summons came from the Inspection Office. The one who had come to escort him was none other than the same patrol captain. With a look that practically said “I told you so,” he pulled on Song Jiang’s waist chain and, along with a large number of subordinates, “Superintendent! I have brought him.”

He shoved him forward and formed up behind him. There sat a figure in a silver-patterned grass-green official robe with a gilt Tang leather breastplate, the sword from his sword belt planted upright before him as he rested both hands upon it, glowering fiercely from his chair. For a high-ranking official there, he seemed unexpectedly young. His stiff sideburns etched whirlwind patterns, while the swallowtail adorning his superintendent’s cap seemed to embody this man’s razor-sharp agility. “So this is him, Patrol Captain?” “Hah!”

“We postponed the customary killing rod punishment due to his supposed illness—but look at him! He’s bouncing around lively as ever!”

“Hah!”

“Outrageous wretch! Immediately administer the hundred lashes of the rod before me!” “Wait a moment—” Song Jiang interjected. “The reason you say that, Superintendent, is likely because the customary gift from me hasn’t reached you, thereby wounding your pride.”

“What?!” “What a petty man you are!” The patrol captain and all the others paled. In the room, which had fallen silent as ice, Song Jiang spoke again. “I never took you for such a petty fellow. This is disappointing.”

The Superintendent flared up and suddenly slammed the pommel of his sword against the floor with a clang.

“You wretch.” “You dare insult me to my face!” “Fine then!” “What will you do?”

“I’ll make you squeal for sure!” “This truly exhausts all courtesy." "To think even among acquaintances of one as esteemed as Wu Yong, there existed such a petty man…” Though uttered in a low mutter, the words undoubtedly reached the Superintendent’s ears. He abruptly began flustering about something,

“Patrol Captain and below—that’s enough. Everyone, get out of the room!”

With that, he drove them out. And suddenly, he changed his demeanor and began to inquire.

“Could it be that you are Mr. Song Gongming of Shandong?” “That’s right.” “Oh! If that’s how it is...” His bold face broke into a hearty grin. “You should have told me sooner.” “In truth, I carry a letter from Academician Wu Yong.” “But if word spread that Liangshan Marsh’s strategist Wu Yong and a government superintendent were acquainted—well, that might raise eyebrows.” “So I deliberately kept silent.” “A secret letter had reached me too.” “I’d been awaiting this moment eagerly, but with so many Songs about—it only mentioned ‘Song, a criminal from Jizhou’—I ended up acting boorishly.” “But meeting you now makes up for it.”

“I was the fortunate one.” That very day, by his order, Song Jiang was transferred to a quite comfortable solitary cell and even had the key entrusted to his hands. Moreover, after several days had passed, the Superintendent took him out into town and showed him even greater hospitality on the upper floor of a tavern. He disclosed his longstanding friendship with Wu Xuejiu, asked extensively about Song Jiang’s personal history, and fostered a camaraderie as if they had shared a decade of acquaintance.

To begin with, this Superintendent was no ordinary man.

Though Song Jiang had already learned the name Dai Zong from the letter of introduction he had received, in Jiangzhou this man not only held the high-ranking position of superintendent over both prisons and was respectfully addressed as "Superintendent Dai," but also possessed astonishing mystical arts.

He himself referred to that mystical art as the "Divine Movement Technique." For instance, when acting as an urgent military courier to traverse great distances, he would straddle horses armored with saddle leathers painted with images of Buddhist deities, fasten incantation talismans to his legs, and perform this divine feat of flying five hundred li in a single day. And people also called Superintendent Dai by another name—Divine Movement Guardian Dai Zong.

Be that as it may, during their drinking, someone came clattering up the stairs from below in great haste.

They saw that it was the tavern's counter clerk. The counter clerk said there was a fight between customers downstairs. And such an utterly outrageous rampage—it absolutely could not be settled unless by none other than the Superintendent himself. It was a plea for him to arbitrate and put a stop to it.

“Not again.” “What a hopeless bastard.”

When Superintendent Dai went downstairs, the commotion ceased immediately. Soon after, he returned upstairs bringing a fearsome man with muscles like wrought iron—a figure as dark and imposing as forged steel. “Mr. Song,” he said. “This is the troublemaker. Born in Baizhang Village, Yishui County—they call him Li Kui the Black Whirlwind.” “Hm.” “He works as a guard at the prison camp. But his drinking habits are atrocious. What’s more, he’s a master of twin axes—skilled with fists and staves too—so no one can control him. They also call him Li the Iron Ox, a name that makes men tremble.”

Li Kui barked immediately upon seeing Song Jiang.

“Superintendent, who the hell is that rotten jujube-colored black bastard over there?”

“This is the one.” “I see. Hahaha! My apologies for not introducing myself sooner. I am Song Gongming of Shandong.” “Huh?” Li Kui blurted in astonishment. “He’s actually with the Superintendent? If he’s the Superintendent’s guest, then I guess it’s true. …This guy really messed up!”

Abruptly slapping his own cheek and promptly performing a formal greeting ritual, Li Kui was—no matter how one looked at him—a man who remained oddly endearing. Mixing with this man—or rather, making Li Kui himself the centerpiece of their drinking—they continued exchanging cups. When Song Jiang asked him why he had been causing a commotion downstairs, he bluntly stated it had been a dispute over lending money. Then Song Jiang casually took out ten taels of silver, “Is this enough?” “Please use it if you wish.”

When he said this and handed it over, Li Kui hopped about with joy, “Heh, are you really lending this to me? Thanks a ton! If I hit it big with this, I’ll repay you double. I’ll treat ya!”

No sooner had he stuffed it into his pocket than he vanished from the spot in the blink of an eye. “Mr. Song,” Dai Zong later frowned and said, “it would have been better not to have lent to him.”

“Why?”

“He’s an exceptionally good-natured and honest fellow, but no matter what he does, as soon as he sees money, he heads straight to the gambling den.” “He’ll pay it back eventually, I suppose.” “Well, it’s fine, isn’t it?” “He’s a useful man, but he’s a troublemaker at the prison camp.” “He treats weak prisoners kindly, but he curses his superiors and gives fellow guards who act high and mighty a harsh time.” “He’s truly a Black Whirlwind in every sense of the word.”

“Perhaps it’s about time we head back… while taking in the river scenery outside the city walls.”

“Hmm. Then shall I guide you through Jiangzhou’s local sights?”

Be that as it may, Li Kui was already at the gambling den’s mat, his eyes ablaze.

“Hey! Over here—hand over the stakes!” “Who’s my opponent?” “Li Kui—you’re breathing fire!” “You bastard! Here’s my stake—bring it on!” Li Kui placed ten taels of silver in front. “Sweet!” “Alright! Let’s roll again!” “Zhang Yi, nice move—oh shit!” This time, Zhang Yi made the opening bet and challenged him first. “Again!” “Bring it! Everyone—come at me!” “Hell yeah!” That too ended in loss, and Li Kui’s stakes were snatched four or five times straight. He slumped for a moment, but—

“Zhang Yi! Roll those dice again!” “Five taels on this!” “Even if you bet, you ain’t got shit.” “Where’s your silver?” “Credit!”

“Don’t fuck with me!” “Just lend it once!” “That won’t do.” “What the—” he began, then suddenly scrambled the silver in front of Zhang Yi with a clinking noise. “If I don’t borrow it, that’s fine!” he declared, stuffing ten taels from the pile into his pocket and standing defiantly. “Hey! Don’t be reckless!” “Are you planning to wreck the gambling den?” “I’m being tame today as it is! You want me to do something more for ya?” “Ouch! You hit me!” “Hey, someone! Give me a hand!”

“I’ll kick you all to pieces!”

When everyone in the room rose to their feet, Li Kui truly began to rampage. In an instant, a gruesome scene unfolded—some with bloodied noses, others with broken hands. “Thief!” “Bandit!” Zhang Yi, unable to let it go, tenaciously chased after the fleeing Li Kui. Li Kui fled while cackling mockingly and glancing back repeatedly, but eventually collided with someone with a thud.

“Hey! It’s Li Kui!”

“Oh no! So it’s you again, Superintendent?” “Why do you steal people’s things?” “I’m sorry. Truth is—just for today—I wanted to pretend I’d won big so I could act all generous and say I’d treat Brother Song Jiang.”

From behind, Song Jiang burst into laughter.

“If you want money, I’ll give it to you.”

“No—I’ve got the money right here.”

“That’s one thing, but that money belongs to the person who chased you here. Return it.” “You stingy bastard,” Li Kui said, returning it to Zhang Yi’s hand as if bestowing a favor.

Song Jiang said to Zhang Yi.

“Was anyone injured?” “Far from it—the whole gambling den looked like it had been mauled by a raging bear’s claws, too awful to behold.” “Even the tea-serving old woman broke her elbow.” “My apologies.” “Take this for their medical expenses and comfort them.” Song Jiang separately gave silver and apologized on Li Kui’s behalf. Dai Zong watched intently but offered no admonition this time. He did not even scold Li Kui. Perhaps intending to speak once things settled down, he took the lead and made his way toward Jiangzhou’s riverside,

“Brother Song, would you like to see Bai Letian’s historic site? I could guide you there if you wish.” “A place connected to the Song of the Pipa. How nostalgic.”

“Along that riverbank over there stands a teahouse called Pipa Pavilion, named after the Song of the Pipa.” “Though it’s not autumn now, late spring has its own particular charm.” “Let’s go have a drink there.”

Already, within Song Jiang’s heart—so akin to a traveler’s melancholy—resounded memories of a fallen woman’s plaintive lute strings played upon a night barge. But now—what was it that he experienced that night? Of course, it was not such elegance as had existed in the past. Both Pipa Pavilion itself and the humans were all things mired in the rot of reality and its murky currents.

The Commotion of Minnows and Monstrous Fish.

The Reopened Fine Wine of Pipa Pavilion

Tea shops and restaurants were fixtures at historic sites, and they also served as scenic elements in the landscape. Pipa Pavilion was precisely such a waterside pavilion in a painting. It felt as though they became guests within a painting.

“Brother Song.” “As you know, what we drink here is the pure, renowned wine of Jiangzhou.” “This fragrant richness, you see.” “No wine connoisseur under heaven would be ignorant of the name ‘Jade Pot Spring Wine’.” “Jiangzhou being a premier rice region—perhaps its fine waters contribute to this?” Dai Zong’s regional boasts knew no end. Song Jiang had already reached mild intoxication. The sole one still seemingly unsatisfied was Li Kui, the Black Whirlwind.

“You two are so well-mannered. “I’ll pour my own drinks.”

“Li Kui.”

“Huh?”

“It’s almost as if you’re the guest here. You’ve devoured my portion and Brother Song’s dishes—all of them—by yourself, haven’t you?” “Nah—that salty soup from earlier wouldn’t suit Brother Song Jiang’s taste. Get us something better!” Li Kui clapped his hands. “Hey! You in the kitchen—get over here!” “Did you call for something, sir?” “Sir.” “Oh, so you’re the cook. How dare you treat us like sightseeing bumpkins!”

“N-no, not at all! Was something not to your liking?” “Damn right! In this Jiangzhou—hailed as the land of rice and fresh fish—you’re serving us dead fish in sweet stew and watery soup!” “We sincerely apologize. The truth is, we used yesterday’s ingredients—live fish ain’t available yet today.” “So you’re blaming it on a poor catch?” “No. The boats have arrived right at the dock, but since the wholesaler’s boss hasn’t come, the market unloading hasn’t started yet.”

“If that’s how it was, why didn’t you refuse outright?” “You damn half-wit!”

Li Kui splashed the wine from the cup onto the cook’s face and immediately shot to his feet,

“I’ll go get two or three myself!”

And with that, he stormed out. Dai Zong called after him from behind, "Hey! Li Kui! Li Kui!" but he didn't so much as turn around.

“I must say, he’s such a nuisance. Such fine wine becomes utterly tasteless when shared with such a boor.”

Dai Zong was apologizing profusely, but Song Jiang simply kept laughing. “Ah—what you might call innate artlessness.” “Bare and unvarnished—that man remains exactly as he appears.” “I find it rather endearing.” Meanwhile, that Black Whirlwind had already arrived at the riverbank’s landing area.

Under the willow trees were various figures—some clustered around small gambling games, others sleeping, and still others yawning. The fleet of fishing boats must have numbered over a hundred, all of them tied up along the shore.

The Yangtze River saw a large, red sun beginning to set in the west. “Hey, fishermen! Bass or carp—pick out two or three fine ones and hand ’em over!” “Who the hell d’you think you are?!” Instantly, everyone from fishermen to buyers and petty traders swarmed over. “Cut the crap, you damn sneak! Until the wholesaler’s boss comes, we can’t unload a single fish!” “Fine by me! When he arrives, tell him it’s Black Whirlwind Li Kui’s purchase!” “I’m takin’ ’em!”

“Ah, you bastard!”

Five or six men rushed at him all at once, but with a single leap he sent them flying, and he was already peering into one moored boat after another among countless vessels. “Well, well—not a single fish in any of these boats?” That was only natural. The fish tanks at the bottom of the boats—where catches were stored—had their sterns partitioned with bamboo nets to let river water flow freely through them. Since he had removed those partitions to peer inside, every last fish must have joyfully escaped in an instant.

As they watched this unfold, the shadowy figures along the shore had coalesced into a seething black mass, "I can't bear to watch this!"

“Enough of this!” They let out a collective sigh of exasperation. And finally, the crowd’s anger erupted in a collective “Waaah!” as they grabbed oars, water poles, landing hooks, and whatever weapons they could lay hands on, charging toward Li Kui.

However, for Li Kui, this was all just part of his drunken merriment.

It was as if he were merely slipping through a dance of minnows.—Then, a fair-skinned, six-foot-tall sturdy man came rushing over from afar upon hearing the commotion. Could this be the master revered as Mr. Wholesaler among the fishermen community? His short-hemmed embroidered robe bore decoration only at the cuffs, marking him as a dandy; through his black gauze swastika-patterned headscarf, the topknot tied with a crimson cord showed faintly like a crimson flower. Due to his trade, his feet were clad in eight-nipple hemp sandals and yellow-and-black striped leggings—such was his attire.

"?"

The man slowly glared at Li Kui and handed the business scale he had at his waist to one of the petty traders. “Hey! Are you blind, you blood-crazed fool? Get over here!” Li Kui turned around and charged with the force of an enraged water buffalo. The waiting man’s fist struck his temple with a thud. The sleeve wrapped around his arm—such was the force of the blow. But without even flinching, Li Kui instead delivered a fierce kick to his opponent’s midsection. The man staggered. With a body tackle, they collapsed in a heap. Li Kui was on top. This time, Li Kui’s iron fists repeatedly struck the man’s forehead and bridge of the nose.

Then from behind came: “Stop! Quit it, Li Kui!” “Huh?—” He looked up. “Who’s— Oh, it’s you two.” “Just leave me be!” “Even if I kill him, I’ll take all the blame myself!” “Fool!” “Come here.” Dai Zong and Song Jiang—having heard the commotion—had rushed over. They forcibly peeled away the triumphant Li Kui, alternating between placating and reprimanding him until they finally dragged him back toward the Pipa Pavilion.

However, before they had even reached the Pipa Pavilion, the man with the crimson-corded topknot—now stripped down to a snow-white undershirt—came chasing after them. And this was not on land—he was on a small boat, poling through the water and cutting around ahead along the riverbank. “Hey! You call yourself Black Whirlwind? Running away? What a sorry sight!” “What?!” The moment Li Kui realized— Whether it be Song Jiang or Dai Zong, neither could stop him in time. Li Kui darted toward the small boat, and in the blink of an eye, he traded a couple of curses.

“You bastard!” Li Kui had jumped into his opponent’s boat. “Bring it on!” As if he’d been waiting for this moment, the man in the boat spread both arms. Li Kui assumed a fighting stance, but try as he might, he couldn’t close the distance even a single step—for the man at the stern skillfully used both legs, “There. “...Rock-a-bye, rock-a-bye.”

In time with his chants, he rocked the small boat violently from side to side, and it resembled a lone withered leaf tossed by stormy waves. Moreover, steadily and without pause, it was moving away from the shore toward the very middle of the Yangtze River.

Unable to bear it any longer, Li Kui,

“Hey fish seller! You’re scared of me! You’re no man at all!”

“Hmph.” “You said it.” “Come at me!”

“Stop that foot-stomping and come at me yourself!” “Understood. I’ll finish you off.”

No sooner had he spoken than the man stood on one leg and leaned his body diagonally over the side of the boat. Then, the small boat capsized effortlessly. Simultaneously, both Li Kui’s figure and the man’s shadow sank into the river’s depths with barely a white splash, plunging heavily downward. The ones who were shocked were Song Jiang and Dai Zong.—When they frantically rushed to the nearby shore’s tideline, the boat on the river had already capsized and was floating upside down, while fishermen and their riffraff directed thoroughly satisfied gazes toward the open waters,

“Nicely done, Boss.” “No matter what, it’s White Streak in the Waves!” “He’s like the master of the Yangtze River! That buffalo bastard’s probably gulping down a bellyful of water by now.” They clamored and shouted in delight. Song Jiang grew even more astonished. Words tumbled urgently toward the crowd of faces.

“That fair-skinned fishmonger owner—is that person’s nickname ‘White Streak in the Waves,’ as someone just said?”

“Yes, yes. He’s called Mr. Zhang Shun, you see.”

“This is terrible! — Brother Dai Zong, this is a disaster!” “Huh? ‘Disaster’ you say?” “If he’s Zhang Shun the fishmonger, I had received a letter from his real brother Zhang Heng! They asked that when I went to Jiangzhou, I must meet him without fail.” “W-well now... What are we to do about this?”

Perplexity and sweat-slicked hands—all they could do was fix their eyes on the distant water’s surface. The setting sun sank as a crimson half-circle, and the river’s waves gleamed blue and clear. Was that white flash Zhang Shun’s limbs—the White Streak in the Waves? Was that dark shadow Li Kui’s exhausted thrashing? Where turbulent waves faintly surged, shapes seemed both visible and vanishing. Then in an instant, their entangled bodies burst through the surface with a splash. It resembled a water buffalo’s bellow as a white dragon coiled around it. Even the Black Whirlwind of land found himself helpless in water—drowned at Zhang Shun’s whim, thrashing chaotic sprays before being dragged back into the depths with gurgling bubbles.

Dai Zong involuntarily raised both hands and shouted to his surroundings.

“Fishermen! Go quickly! I am Warden Dai of Jiangzhou Prison Camp. Separate those two and bring them here!” There was no one who wouldn’t be shocked upon hearing the name Warden Dai.

Immediately, a boat shot away from the shore like an arrow, and before long, they had pried the two apart and brought them back. That said, Zhang Shun, the White Streak in the Waves, swam alone to shore first as if streaking through the water.

“I must sincerely apologize. I had no idea you were Warden Dai,” he said with a composed expression. Li Kui finally crawled up from the boat, “Heh, you really put me through hell there.” He gagged and retched, spewing three pecks’ worth of water from his nose and mouth.

“Anyway, let’s take this discussion to the Pipa Pavilion over there.”

With that, the four immediately withdrew back to the Pipa Pavilion, and this great commotion was narrowly settled without incident for the time being.

There, Li Kui and Zhang Shun each changed out of their soaking-wet clothes and tied up their hair, while everyone else prepared the lanterns by the water’s edge and laid out the wine, readying for a fresh evening. “Alright, everyone, take your cups.”

Dai Zong also raised his cup and took the lead in reconciliation. “Rain hardens the earth,” he declared. “From now on, you two shall interact with sworn brotherhood.” “After such a flamboyant quarrel, there can be no lingering resentments.” “I bear no grudges,” said Zhang Shun. “Well then, Brother Black Whirlwind.” “Oh ho! Am I the elder here?” “Zhang Shun, treat me well.”

Next, Song Jiang modestly introduced himself.

“I am Hei Song Jiang of Shandong. Mr. Zhang Shun, I previously had the honor of meeting your esteemed blood brother Mr. Zhang Heng in Jieyang Town, where he rendered me various kindnesses. I humbly request your continued acquaintance hereafter.” “What? Then you must be Clerk Song Gongming of Yuncheng County in Shandong! This truly astounds me. In truth, I had long since received a letter from my brother in Jieyang Town. He insisted I must meet you without fail.”

“Ah, so that was the case,” Song Jiang acknowledged. “What a remarkable encounter.” “This Zhang Shun could never have imagined meeting three such heroes under one roof in a single evening—there is no greater joy,” he declared with earnest humility. “From now on, please consider me the least of your sworn brothers and correct me without hesitation.”

And so there at that very place, a life-and-death pact between heroes was newly forged once more, and with two more bottles of the famed “Jade Pot Spring” wine unsealed, the scene became one of endless laughter and conversation.

“Hey! Completely slipped my mind!”

“Li Kui, what have you remembered?” “It’s the fish!” “Wasn’t this whole mess started over fish?” “Zhang Shun, can you give me two or three fish?”

“Don’t be stingy with your words! I’d gladly present dozens at this very gathering.” “Alright, I’ll dash over and have them bring some.”

“Hold on.” “Why, Zhang Shun?” “Haven’t drunk enough river water yet?” “Bwahaha! Quit teasing me already.” “Then Zhang Shun, you come along too.” “Sure thing.” “You two gentlemen’ll have to excuse us for a bit.” Zhang Shun and Li Kui went out tangled together like shepherd boys singing in the fields, hand in hand. Truly, these were nature’s innocent souls—the sort you’d call marshland heroes.

Before long, having had the inn’s chefs and servants carry buckets, the two returned with over a dozen splendid golden-scaled carp scooped up. Immediately, they had them prepared as sashimi, fried, in soup, stewed with chili peppers, and other dishes, but even two fish proved impossible to finish entirely. The remaining four or five were skewered on bamboo leaves, “Please take these as souvenirs.” It was an arrangement made with utmost consideration by Zhang Shun. It would have been better if they had left right then, but just then, the sound of a pipa came from a separate room in the water pavilion. Upon inquiring, they learned it was a pipa performer who traveled to fulfill guests’ requests, and Song Jiang suddenly recalled that unforgettable piece—“Xunyang River’s Edge…”—which he had once heard during a night at the Mu family’s banquet, prompting him to have her summoned.

However, they were a pitiful-looking father-daughter pair of boat performers—their songs and pipa playing couldn't compare to the Mu family maiden's artistry. Yet when asked about their background, it turned out they were capital-born, shared the same surname Song, and the daughter was named Yulian. For Song Jiang, this stirred nothing but unbidden sorrow, making even the wine taste bitter. "That's enough. Thank you. That's sufficient. ...Now then, have your daughter eat something here."

With that, he gave them some silver coins, ending up comforting them instead.

But Li Kui had no such consideration. He made the girl pour drinks and roughhoused around, but then—whether something displeased him—he ended up making her collapse with a shriek. A small amount of blood oozed on the girl's forehead, her earrings and hairpin scattered about.

“What in blazes do you think you’re doing?” Seizing the opportunity, Zhang Shun and Dai Zong led him outside, while Song Jiang remained behind to address the girl’s parent, “Well. Have some understanding. I’m from the prison camp, but I’ll give you money for medicine—come along with me.” He deeply apologized on Li Kui’s behalf and insisted on taking only the performer’s father back with him. All this commotion turned what should have been a memorable evening at the Pipa Pavilion into a dreary nighttime journey back.—However, Song—the father of the pipa-playing girl—received unexpected consolation silver from Song Jiang and, tears streaming down his face, returned from his room that very night.

The wall summoned Song Jiang’s brush-induced calamity, while the flying horse traversed the skies via the “Divine Movement Technique”. By nature, Song Jiang was a strong drinker. It was just that his demeanor and speech were quiet; his drinking capacity was second to none. With “Jade Pot Spring” wine and golden-scaled carp, he must have drunk and eaten heartily last night as well…… Perhaps because of that, since dawn he had been feeling a dull throbbing in his stomach. After seeing the morning sun, the pain grew increasingly severe, and he made dozens of trips to the toilet.

The souvenir golden carp had all been distributed to the prison camp’s staff and fellow inmates. The prisoners took turns coming to his room to tend to him kindly. Between brewing diarrhea-stopping Liuhe Decoction and cooking porridge, there wasn’t a single fellow prisoner who didn’t repay Song Jiang’s usual kindness here.

Li Kui and Zhang Shun also came to visit. As a result, Song Jiang ended up bedridden for over ten days. In part, it may have been that the accumulated fatigue from his long journey when he was exiled from Jizhou to Jiangzhou had all manifested at once.

Thus, at last, it had been twenty days since he could even think of taking a walk. His body was completely fine now. Even the season had shifted to early summer breezes. "It had been unexpectedly long..." Out of longing for his friends, that day he went to visit Superintendent Dai, who resided in the Guanyin Hermitage within the City God Temple grounds.

But Dai Zong was out.

"Zhang Shun’s house…" He considered this, but given the fishmonger’s busy livelihood, on such a fine day he was likely out on the river or at the market beyond the city walls. As for Li Kui, he was a man whose usual whereabouts—gambling dens, guard rooms, and the like—were anyone’s guess.

However, he did not feel lonely even alone.

Moreover, the comfort of recovery naturally drew a soft hum to his lips. His skin glistened faintly with pleasant sweat, his eyes were washed by the fresh verdure of the outskirts, and a hunger he hadn't felt in recent days filled him with quiet joy.

"Oh... A tavern sign came into view. Oh... This isn't some little tavern. What a splendid tavern!" When he approached, the tavern sign bore the characters "Xunyang River Zhengku," while beneath the eaves of the wall gate's archway hung a plaque inscribed by Su Dongpo, Xunyang Tower the three characters carved in white.

"Ah, so this is the renowned Xunyang Tower of Jiangzhou!" "Unfortunately I'm alone—but well, I might as well enjoy the view." As he proceeded further in, vermilion-lacquered couplet plaques with gold leaf could be seen on both sides of the corner entrance, while on one ornamental pillar was inscribed "No Wine in This World Compares." On the other side could be read "A Tower Renowned Under Heaven."

The upper floors were divided into five stories, and the scenery overlooking the river was utterly entrancing from every railing. In the sky across the shore, distant mountains resembling ten thousand layers of clouds trailed folds of indigo or violet, while Sichuan-bound reed sail boats and nearby white sails drifted serenely as though from another world. There were other refined guests. The strains of a zither and Chinese fiddle could be heard somewhere, the willows by the tower drooped low, and in the shade of the pagoda tree before the gate, guests' mounts stood tethered. All of this together formed a single scroll of Tang-style landscape painting.

“Sir.” “Will anyone else be joining you?” At the voice of the tavern attendant, “No—just out for some relaxation. I came up here alone on a whim. Would a lone customer be an inconvenience?” “Not at all, sir.” “Please take your time.” “Then I’ll have wine.” “I’ll leave the vegetables, meat, soup, and other dishes to your discretion.” In front of the railing, at a table in a private room, Song Jiang alone cheerfully nurtured his spirit during his convalescence. The wine was excellent, the knife work superb, and the utensils and such—truly befitting its title as “A Tower Renowned Under Heaven.”

"...In my hometown too, there are indeed famous mountains and historic sites—but Jiangzhou is truly something else." His heart wandered as far as the distant clouds when suddenly he recalled his elderly father and younger brother back home. Wine drunk alone easily leads to deep intoxication. Moreover, his gut had been parched for over twenty days. For some reason, he began shedding tears in streams.

"I’ve long passed thirty yet achieved no renown, brought no aid to my family’s legacy, and this body bestowed by my parents now bears criminal tattoos as an exile. Ah, how regrettable. Ah, how hollow this feels... Forgive me, Father." Miserably alone, he poured and drank, poured and drank, until blending deep intoxication with self-mockery, he unwittingly brewed a poem within his breast. When he glanced aside, the white wall nearby showed many inscribed verses left by wandering travelers and drunken guests, each expressing their inspiration. He too took up the provided brush and recorded these lines: "Perhaps this will serve as a memento for the day when, years hence, I return here to wander again."

In youth, I early studied the classics, Upon growing, though schemes filled my heart, Talons, fruitlessly Like a wandering tiger This mortal form—criminal tattoos, Now in Jiangzhou’s prison land When years have passed and I return once more,

This resentment, this lament Even Xunyang’s waters would turn crimson with weeping. Having written this all in one go, Song Jiang felt his spirits grow remarkably refreshed along with the scent of splashed ink. Suddenly overcome with inexplicable joy, he continued— My heart remains in Shandong; my body dwells in Wu An anxious heart burns; tears run cold. The day my ambition is fulfilled, I shall laugh. Huang Chao too was not counted among the great men, "By Song Jiang of Yuncheng County"

“Hmm—it’s been ages since I last put brush to paper.” Setting down the brush, he leaned back in his chair, took a cup in one hand, tapped the table with his other fingers as if playing a xylophone, and softly recited it under his breath. Having completely regained his spirits there, he eventually paid the bill and staggered back along the original path—that shadow of solitary sorrow, that sensitive and sentimental version of him from that day would later be remembered as something truly rare for Song Jiang. The moment he returned to his own room within the prison barracks, he lost all sense of time, slept straight through until the next morning, and the previous day’s ink-play had all but vanished from his memory.

There was a rural town called Wuwei Jun.

On the immediate opposite shore of Jiangzhou, regular boats constantly traveled between there and the main streets of Jiangzhou Prefecture. As for a man of means like Huang Wenbing, he would always make his way to Jiangzhou's main city in his stylish private boat. Huang held an idle post with no official duties. There in Wuwei Jun, he maintained a splendid mansion and lived quite the lavish lifestyle—yet within him, ambitions still burned fiercely. The proof lay in this: whenever he loaded his boat with rare seasonal gifts, his destination was invariably the private residence of His Excellency Governor Cai Jiu of Jiangzhou.

Cai Jiu was the son of Minister Cai, a powerful official in the Song court. From his diligent efforts to pay courtesies there and the schemes he pursued, one could discern his true ambitions.

However, Huang Wenbing’s reputation was far from good. He was the type of man who possessed a smattering of learning, lorded it over his subordinates, and showed no sycophancy toward his superiors. Today as well, he had gone to attend at the Governor’s official residence when, by chance, Cai Jiu— “Today there’s a banquet at the great city—I’m rather busy. Come back tonight.” Having been told this, Huang once returned to his boat. And then, past noon, without any particular thought, he went up to the riverside Xunyang Tower,

“Hey, just one cup.” “I don’t want any greasy side dishes.” “Just rice with tea after that.”

he arrogantly commanded.

He was a stingy customer when it came to money, yet had been a patron here for years. Moreover, this customer kept such matters in his private reckoning. He had been haughtily bossing around even the serving girls when his gaze suddenly fell upon the writing on the white wall.

“What’s this?!...‘In youth, I early studied the classics, / Upon growing, though schemes filled my heart,’...” Huang groaned with a thick snort. “What... what?!...‘This resentment, this lament— / Should years pass and I return once more, / Xunyang’s waters will run red.’” ...Who could this be? The one who wrote this without fear—wasn’t this a rebellious poem? And it’s written by an exiled criminal! “Utterly bizarre!”

He clapped his hands, summoned the maid and counter staff, interrogated them about the age and appearance of the guest who had written on the wall, copied down the signature reading "By Song Jiang of Yuncheng County," and waited for evening. Instead, he slept on the boat and waited until morning.

This was where his sycophantic cunning came into play.

Sure enough, Governor Cai Jiu was in an extremely foul mood.

“Huang Wen! I told you to present yourself last night—why did you leave me waiting in vain?”

“Your Excellency. “I deeply apologize, but I suddenly found myself preoccupied with matters of grave importance to the realm and have been rushing about tirelessly to prevent any possible error in my investigation.”

“Hmm.” “This morning seems to be a day when talk of ‘great matters of the realm’ fills my ears.” “Hm? Do you have anything there?” “In fact, my father Minister Cai sent a courier stating that recently the Astronomical Bureau of the Grand Astrologer in the capital has reported thus: ‘The stars of the Big Dipper shine upon the lands of Wu and Chu, their hue crimson—doubtless an omen of rebels rising.’” “Ah, I see.” “Also, among the children of Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital,”

“The mountain lies east Thirty and six House and tree run wild! Water and Craft” “They say these nonsensical, cryptic children’s rhymes—utterly devoid of meaning—have been spreading like wildfire lately.” “That is truly terrifying.”

Huang slapped his knee and said, "Heaven has no mouth but makes men speak its will, as the saying goes. Neither those children’s rhymes nor the sinister radiance of the Big Dipper are mere coincidences!"

“Do you have any evidence?” “Please examine this sheet.” “This humble servant copied it yesterday from the wall inscription at Xunyang Tower.” “Hmm...” “It appears he himself declares he’s an exile of Jiangzhou.” “A convict’s poem?” “No, no—regardless of that, observe how every verse seethes with rebellious blood and ferocious resentment!” “Indeed! This spews forth from a revolutionary’s very core! The howl of one who damns the world. Who exactly is this Song Jiang of Yuncheng County?” “The howl of one who damns the world.” “Who exactly is this Song Jiang of Yuncheng County?”

“Therefore, he must be the exile from Jizhou in the prison camp under your jurisdiction. Please immediately order the prison camp’s registrar to inspect the register.” Cai Jiu summoned officials, ordered them to check and bring the register at once, and while waiting spoke again. “How should I interpret this strange children’s rhyme circulating in the capital? I can’t make heads or tails of this thing.”

“No, no—that aligns perfectly! ‘The mountain lies east’ refers to Shandong.” “‘House and tree run wild’ likely denotes breaking down the character ‘Song.’” “Then what of ‘water’ and ‘craft’?”

“It forms the character ‘Jiang’ (江).” “I see.” “And as for the number thirty-six…”

“Based solely on that，even I cannot determine.” “It likely refers to thirty-six—the heavenly number six times six—pertaining to the stars，I surmise.”

At that moment, the registrar brought the prison camp register.

“Would this not be the one?”

and affixed a red label to the name in the register before presenting it. Upon looking, it read: "May new prisoner, from Yuncheng County - Song Jiang." At this very moment, the Astronomical Bureau of the Song court had been analyzing rumors in the capital and divining omens from the Big Dipper, issuing warnings about signs of rebellion to various provinces—and given this fact, Magistrate Cai Jiu promptly rendered his decision: “Arrest Song Jiang—the criminal who wrote that audacious rebel poem on Xunyang Tower’s walls—immediately! Not a moment’s delay!”

With that, he issued the command to Dai Zong, Superintendent of Both Courts of Jiangzhou Prison.

Song Jiang, unaware of everything, was feeding the caged bird that morning. Since his illness began, it had been the caged yellow bird by the window that served as his companion.

“Brother Song! This is no time for birds!”

At the rear door, he heard this breathless voice and abruptly turned around.

“Oh! Is that not Superintendent Dai? What’s happened to your face?” “No—you’re the one who’s landed us in this mess. There’s no saving it now.” “What do you mean?” “Did you not write a rebellious poem on Xunyang Tower’s walls? I’ve just gone to confirm it myself. Clear as day—you’ve written something so blatant there’s no undoing it now.”

“......?......”

Song Jiang had been sitting motionless with his head bowed for some time when he suddenly appeared to recall memories from his drunken state. He turned pale. Yet he showed no sign of remorse. He slumped into a chair, bowed his head, and apologized: “...A lifelong blunder.”

But it was Dai Zong—the one being apologized to—who now found himself in an utterly desperate situation. He was cornered with no way out. Already, by Cai Jiu’s order, he had assembled a contingent of soldiers—from the prison camp’s military unit leader down—before the City God Temple’s gates and made them wait there for some time. And in an instant, the one who appeared here was he who had stealthily come like the wind by employing the secret of his mystical art, the Divine Movement Technique. With that, there was no time to speak of anything. However, the stratagem Dai Zong had brought—

“Brother Song, there’s no alternative. “I must bind you with ropes—but feign madness. “When brought before Cai Jiu, spew nonsense and play deranged to confound their interrogation. “We’ll devise further plans afterward.” “No—cease this. “Superintendent Dai, my resolve is firm. “Bind me.” “I cannot bind you. “Were I to abandon you here, Wu Yong and all Liangshan’s brethren would curse me through eternity. “Nor could I face the sworn brothers of Jiangzhou’s fraternity.”

“But this foolish root was planted by none other than Song Jiang himself. Who would brand you disloyal? Even were I to play the madman, such artifice lies beyond my skills—it would only heap shame upon shame.” “Now... Don’t surrender so readily.” “No—I shall obey Heaven’s decree. There is no alternative. If you cannot deem this honorable, I will deliver myself to them.”

There was no persuading him. There was no plan either.

Dai Zong let out a long sigh. Before long, amidst a contingent of soldiers, they escorted Song Jiang into a hall within the great fortress where Magistrate Cai Jiu resided. Every manner of cruel torture devices and prison implements had been prepared on the white-sanded interrogation ground. There, flames of blood burned. But for him, who had steeled himself, even the harshest torments could not be inflicted. A confession was extracted, an executioner’s collar weighing twenty-five jin was clamped around his neck, and that evening, he was cast into the darkness of the imperial prison.

The one small mercy was that Dai Zong, in obedience to orders, had promptly produced Song Jiang here, so Cai Jiu harbored no suspicions toward him. Thus, everything from prison surveillance to meal provisions was entirely entrusted to him.

That evening, on one front, Magistrate Cai Jiu was at his own residence with Huang Wenbing, “Well, well. That settles one matter.” “For now, it’s a relief things didn’t escalate into a major incident,” as they dined together.

Magistrate Cai Jiu and Huang Wenbing were gathered around their dinner. “Ah, but Your Excellency.” “This is just the beginning!”

“Is there still some urgent matter?” “First, you must immediately report the full details to your esteemed father in the capital. Through Minister Cai, have it memorialized to His Majesty so that your governance of Jiangzhou Fortress may be recognized as an achievement before the imperial court.” “Indeed, precisely so.” “Secondly, since this concerns a major state criminal, we must urgently send a messenger to inquire at your father’s ministerial residence regarding his disposal—whether to behead him here or shackle him alive and dispatch him to Kaifeng. This would allow your father to enhance his prestige while spreading renown of your accomplishment.”

“Hmm, you’re quite sharp,” said Cai Jiu. “I’ll adopt your counsel. When I receive my promotion, you’ll get that prestigious post this time. Now then—I’ll summon Dai Zong immediately and charge him with this mission.” “Dai Zong?” Huang tilted his head slightly. “He oversees both bureaus—are you certain there’s no error?”

“He is a trustworthy man,” said Cai Jiu. “Moreover, this wretch possesses legs swift enough to traverse five hundred li in a single day through that Divine Movement Technique of his.” “Then he could reach the capital within ten days and return straightaway,” Huang remarked. “A most unusual yet convenient tool.” Huang offered no further objections. However, whether due to some preparations requiring Cai Jiu’s attention that night, the orders for Dai Zong were not delivered until the following morning. “Dai Zong,” commanded Cai Jiu, “you shall employ your Divine Movement Technique to its fullest and urgently convey this message to the capital.”

Having established this, Cai Jiu placed two splendid gift baskets and a sealed letter there. In the baskets were celebratory gifts of gold, silver, pearls, and jewels. “Actually, Dai Zong,” “My father the Minister’s honorable birthday falls on this July fifteenth.” “These congratulatory messages and gifts must absolutely be delivered by that day to serve their purpose.” “Therefore travel day and night to make it in time.”

“Understood, Your Excellency.”

In his heart, he felt utterly perplexed, yet he couldn’t refuse. Quickly, he came before the great prison and whispered in a low voice to the pale-faced figure within. “I will return soon. Please refrain from impatience and take care of yourself.” Then, after summoning Li Kui and explaining the details of his journey to the capital, he strictly instructed him to take utmost care of Song Jiang’s safety and drove the point home by adding one final warning. “While I’m away, at least keep off the drink.”

“Don’t you worry.” “I’m a man too!” “Until the day I see your return, I shall not even catch a whiff of wine!”

“Alright then, I’m off.”

When he returned to the Guanyin Shrine near the City God Temple, he immediately began preparing for his journey. He fastened a silver breastplate over his chest, donned an amber-colored robe, and tied his hair under a hood. For footwear, he wore eight-loop straw sandals; tied talismans around his calves; mounted a horse with deities painted on its saddle leather; loaded the gift baskets; and departed Jiangzhou that very day. His speed matched what had been described—riding upon mist, parting clouds, keeping pace with flying birds. Moreover, it was believed that with the Divine Movement Technique, one could sometimes forgo horses and—relying solely on sturdy legs—run ten times faster than an ordinary person. In other words, this must be one of the Taoist mystic arts. At each inn along the way, he burned gold and silver paper in ritual offerings, maintained strict bodily purity, engaged in various incantations and mystic practices—leaving him scarcely any time to sleep during his journey.

Now, here was a corner of Shandong.

Reeds and flat sand—vast and boundless—there was nothing but water. Dai Zong dismounted from his horse and peered into a waterside inn. He took a breath. “Old man, I don’t need wine or food. Can you give me kudzu tea instead?” “What? You want kudzu tea?” retorted the tavern servant. “You’ve got to be kidding me. We don’t have any of that sickly stuff here. This is a tavern.” “I understand that,” said Dai Zong, “but there’s not a single household to be seen for tens of li around here. Then boil some vegetable broth or something for me.” All the while, the tavern servant kept muttering under his breath. During this exchange, a man who had returned from outside appeared—the true innkeeper. He glared at the guest inside before walking back to the horse tethered under the eaves, where he began intently examining both the strange paintings of deities on the saddle leather and Dai Zong’s peculiar appearance.

“Excuse me, sir.” “Oh, the innkeeper.” “Where have you come from, may I ask? You’re neither a Taoist priest nor a warrior—quite unusual attire you have there.”

“I came from Jiangzhou,” he said. “Now I’m on my way to Kaifeng Tokyo.” “Oh! You’re from Jiangzhou?” The man’s eyes widened. “...Then could you be Superintendent Dai, the one who wields the Divine Movement Technique?” “How did you know that?” “Our comrade Mr. Wu Yong has often told us about the only man in all the land who resides in Jiangzhou—one who commands the marvels of the Divine Movement Technique. We’ve long heard tales of your prowess.”

“Hmm. Then you are not this tavern’s keeper. What manner of man are you truly?” “If you are Dai Zong – friend to Mr. Wu Yong – there’s no need for concealment. I must speak plainly. This tea house stands separated from Liangshan Marsh by but a single waterway. I am Zhu Gui, called the Dry Land Crocodile – one of Liangshan’s men who keeps constant watch over this river mouth in disguise.”

“Wh-what? So Liangshan Marsh is near here? And does Academic Wu Yong still reside there?” “He remains indeed—the chief strategist of our main fortress. Whenever Jiangzhou becomes a topic of discussion, your name unfailingly arises. Moreover, whenever we speak of Brother Song Jiang—exiled there—and express concern for his welfare, not once does it fail to pain the hearts of all our companions present.”

Upon hearing this, Dai Zong was struck by heartrending emotion. Upon hearing such profound camaraderie between men and finding himself unable to keep things concealed any longer, he explained in detail how Song Jiang himself had fallen into grave peril and was now imprisoned in darkness with his life hanging by a thread.

The moment he heard this, Zhu Gui was astonished and immediately puffed up his chest. “And what’s this? At such a critical time, what in the world are you planning to do by going to the capital now?” “Therefore, as I just explained, under Cai Jiu’s orders, I’ve been rushing here by necessity to deliver that birthday gift to Minister Cai’s residence in the capital.” “Don’t joke about this! What about Brother Song Jiang’s life? Just throw away the damn gifts!” “I can’t just do that. For unless I complete this mission, I cannot return to Jiangzhou either.”

“But if we wait like this, Brother Song Jiang might get his head chopped off before you know it! What? You say there’s a jailer called Black Whirlwind Li Kui with him? That’s too optimistic! What can one or two people possibly accomplish? This is bad! Wait a moment, Superintendent Dai!” Zhu Gui dashed under the eaves, took out his signature strong bow and whistling arrow, and from the riverbank drew it taut with a creaking strain. The moment he loosed it, the whistling arrow split the crystal-clear air and vanished with a roar into the distant river.

Dai Zong, anxious to press ahead, stepped out from under the eaves and began loosening his horse’s reins with a curt “I’ll stop by on my return—give my regards to Wu Yong.” “Not a chance in hell I’m letting you!”

Zhu Gui grabbed the reins.

"You're a damn friendless bastard," "Planning to abandon Brother Song Jiang to die?" "That's precisely why I must hurry—I can't rest until this is done swiftly." "I can't just stand idle either." "Come now—to Liangshan Marsh!" "Come with me to the mountain's Assembly Hall and explain this to all our comrades!" "I've no time for detours." "What detour?!" "I'll drag you there even if you refuse!" "Hah! You obstinate fool!"

Dai Zong leaped onto the divine-speed talismans. He struck Zhu Gui with his whip, but Zhu Gui only tightened his grip. Desperately clambering onto the horse’s rear, Zhu Gui grappled Dai Zong from behind and sent them both tumbling to the ground in a heap. Meanwhile, on the river’s surface—responding to the whistling arrow’s signal—the shadows of twelve or thirteen swift boats bearing green and red flags were already cutting through white waves as they neared the shore. Even Military Strategist Wu Yong had miscalculated.

The matter of locating a master forger and engraver.

Water stretched endlessly; reeds rustled desolately— At Jinsha Beach of Liangshan Marsh, though indiscernible at first glance, there were always "hidden boats" concealed like floating nests of waterbirds. And through Zhu Gui of the tavern firing whistling arrows as signals, they had been set to come surging ashore whenever trouble arose. Even Dai Zong, seeing this, realized resistance would be futile. Turning from his path, he resolved to stop at Liangshan Marsh and personally explain the circumstances. “Since you’re neither enemies nor foes, fighting you would be pointless.” “Lead the way.”

Entrusting himself to Zhu Gui, he moved to the boat. Of course, the divine horse of the “Divine Movement Technique” that he had ridden here and the gift baskets of gold and silver to be delivered to the capital were all carefully loaded onto the boat together. “I’ll go on ahead!” And Zhu Gui hurried ahead in the lead water-guide boat. As soon as it reached the opposite shore, he dashed straight to the Assembly Hall (the fortress’s inner sanctum) and explained the situation to Military Strategist Wu Yong. Wu Yong immediately reported this to leader Chao Gai and assembled all the mountain’s bandit generals.

By the time Dai Zong arrived there, it appeared everyone already knew the general outline—both Dai Zong’s mission to Kaifeng and the crisis of Song Gongming, who now languished in Jiangzhou Prison awaiting certain death. Still, this was a reunion between Wu Yong and Dai Zong after a truly long separation. The two men grasped each other’s hands,

“Well, this is a rare meeting,” said Wu Yong. “Though I regret it must be under such circumstances!” “Truly,” replied Dai Zong, “even as we speak here, my mind knows no peace. Every moment now chips away at Teacher Song Jiang’s remaining life. If you comprehend the situation, I must hasten at once to Imperial Minister Cai’s presence as Cai Jiu’s envoy.” He pressed his hands together urgently. “Moreover, I mean to return to Jiangzhou afterward and pour my very soul into devising a rescue plan.” “Now steady yourself,” Wu Yong soothed, though his own voice carried an edge of tension.

“Here at this very place are Commander Chao Gai and all key members of our stronghold gathered in full array. Would you kindly explain Teacher Song’s great peril once more in meticulous detail?”

“Though I am anxious, well, please listen.” “Actually—” Dai Zong explained the urgency to the assembly in detail. Even as they listened, the entire assembly was overcome with helpless indignation and their minds raced toward rescuing Song Jiang—and no sooner had Dai Zong’s words ended than—

“To Jiangzhou! Go!” “Let’s smash through Jiangzhou Prison and take Teacher Song back!” They all leaped to their feet, their momentum a spectacle to behold. “Hold on!” Wu Yong restrained his comrades. “Now is not the time for rash actions.” “A clumsy intervention would only hasten Master Song’s demise.” “This plan requires meticulousness upon meticulousness.” “Then does the Military Strategist have some brilliant plan?” “Well I do have one… First we’ll have Superintendent Dai go to the capital as planned and bring back a forged letter from Minister Cai to skillfully deceive Cai Jiu.”

“And then?” “In the forged letter to Minister Cai, we’ll write: ‘The criminal Song Jiang—given how he aligns with those ominous children’s rhymes circulating everywhere—is clearly the root of grave crimes against the state. Do not rashly execute him in the provinces.’ We’ll lure them out of Jiangzhou with a forged order to ‘strictly escort him to the capital.’” “I see—ambush them along the way. But Military Strategist, what about Minister Cai Jing’s handwriting? If his son Cai Jiu sees it—his own father’s penmanship—he’ll see right through this.”

“There’s no need to worry,” said Wu Yong. “When speaking of the four calligraphic styles currently in vogue across the realm, they are Su Dongpo, Huang Luzhi, Mi Yuanzhang, and Cai Jing—these four are called the Four Great Masters of the Song Dynasty.” “Is Cai Jing truly that accomplished in calligraphy?” asked an assembly member. “Now listen.” Wu Yong leaned forward. “...There happens to be a scholar I once mentored within Jizhou’s walls.” “This Xiao Rang is a veritable master of forged handwriting.” “Stele inscriptions or hanging scrolls—he never forgets a single stroke once seen.” “He replicates the Four Great Masters’ styles with flawless precision.” “Men even nickname him ‘Holy Hand Scholar,’ and should you place blade or spear in his grip—why, he wields them with no small skill either.”

“I’ve grasped your strategy, Military Strategist. …But we’ll need the official seal.” “What about Minister Cai’s seal?” “I’ve already considered that aspect as well.” “In the same Jizhou resides a seal engraver named Jin Dajian—also known by the epithet ‘Jade-Armed Artisan’—who is likewise a master of his craft. Securing these two men would suffice.” “You mean to capture them?” “Here, Superintendent Dai will change his appearance to that of a mountain ascetic residing at Yue Temple in Taian Prefecture and go to Jizhou Town to bring out Xiao Rang and the seal engraver—the two masters.” “Given their craftsman’s temperament, there should be no trouble once we persuade them properly.” “…Throughout the realm—at Yue Temple in Taian Prefecture—erect a stele.” “Therefore, we must request the two foremost masters in all the land to ascend to Yue Temple and undertake this work.” “And if they take fifty taels of silver each as a small advance payment—”

“Ah! No need to say more—I got it!”

Since Chao Gai and all others had clapped their hands in agreement, Dai Zong naturally found no objection to this ingenious strategy. Without delay, he changed his guise to that of a yamabushi ascetic and that very day crossed Jinsha Beach by boat, hastening toward Jizhou Road.

The back of the government office in Jizhou Town. Having heard this along the way, Dai Zong had managed to locate the house—but what a wretchedly poor household it was, one that didn’t even need peeking into to grasp its state. Xiao Rang, the Holy Hand Scholar—whether he was a bachelor or not—was blowing on a bamboo tube beneath a clay kiln. “Excuse me. I am Dai Hōin of Yue Temple.” “What’s this at lunchtime? Another Yue Temple amulet seller? Get lost, get lost.” “No—it’s a request concerning the erection of a monument.” Then Dai Zong first produced fifty taels of silver and earnestly requested the inscription for the monument’s text.

“Oh.” “In a hurry, are you?” “In truth, as the date for erecting the monument has already been scheduled, it is the collective wish of our entire temple to humbly request that you come to the mountain this very day to draft the text and compose the inscription.”

“So you’re saying we should set out immediately? But Master Hōin, even if there’s a stone ready and the text prepared, how are you going to handle the carving?” “It is said that in this locale resides Jin Dajian, a master of metal and stone engraving renowned as the Jade-Armed Artisan. We intend to proceed there next for negotiations.” “Since Dajian’s a friend, the job should go smoothly. Wait! I’ll come along with you.”

Xiao Rang was already thoroughly eager. They asked the old woman next door to tend the kiln fire and watch the house, then immediately set out together. When they reached the Confucius shrine at the town center, a hunchbacked man who looked like a local craftsman shuffled out from a grimy alley’s shadow. At their first encounter: “Well if it ain’t Xiao Rang! Where you headed?” “To your place. I’m bringing this Master Hōin here. ...Ah, Master Hōin! This here’s Jin Dajian—the master craftsman who lives up to his ‘Jade-Armed Artisan’ nickname.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” “Ah well—I’m not sure what your business entails—but please do come inside.” Dajian promptly led them back to his home and inquired about their business from the two men. Upon hearing it, it turned out to be a matter of the Five Peaks Tower at Yue Temple in Taian Prefecture being renovated, and on that occasion, a stele was to be erected through the efforts of wealthy patrons. And since Dai Zong had also laid out fifty taels of silver upfront right there, Dajian’s eyes lit up—and with his simple craftsman’s disposition, he didn’t hesitate for a moment,

“You bet I will! Carving a stele for Yue Temple where the Dongyue Great Emperor is enshrined—that’s the crowning glory of a carver’s career! With these peerless skills of mine—I’ll see it through!” He accepted with hearty enthusiasm. Both men continued in this vein, not harboring even a speck of doubt toward Dai Zong.

That evening turned into a drinking party at the house behind the roadside, and by dawn they had set out on their journey as a trio. After walking nearly half a day, Dai Zong vanished under the pretext of "going ahead to have our sponsors come meet you." It happened near dusk. Having walked seventy or eighty li along the road, both men were dragging their slightly weary legs when suddenly a whistle pierced through the evening mist. When they looked up, blurred figures were approaching through the haze. This was Wang the Dwarf Tiger—a Liangshan Marsh operative—with his underlings blocking their path.

“Hand over the money. Both of you—strip down to nothin’!”

They blocked their path. “Don’t mess with us!” Xiao Rang and Jin Dajian both stood against their opponents with practiced skills. In the end, they chased after the fleeing Dwarf Tiger—but this had already fallen into their adversaries’ trap. Instantly, gongs resounded from nearby mountains as Liangshan heroes Song Wan, Du Xuan, and Zheng Tianshou the Fair-Faced Lad attacked, effortlessly dragging the two men deep into the woods. Nevertheless, neither Jin nor Xiao were subjected to any rough treatment. They were simply thrown into a mountain palanquin, bound with hemp ropes from above, and throughout the night and into the next day were rushed along at a dizzying speed. Before long, they felt as if they had been put aboard a boat. Strange, bewildering—where in the world were they? Fearfully, when the ropes were undone and they emerged, there stood an unexpected old acquaintance and benefactor, smiling.

“...Huh? You’re—”

“Do you remember me? I am Wu Yong, the Resourceful Star. My apologies for the rude awakening.” “Master, where in heaven’s name are we?”

“This is Liangshan Marsh’s Assembly Hall.”

“Gah...” The two men made identical faces as if about to burst into tears. “Master, please let us go home! Dajian has a mother and children!”

“Don’t worry—your families are scheduled to be brought here from Jizhou by tomorrow or so through the stronghold’s arrangements. And behind this stronghold, proper residences have been prepared for you all as well. So just settle down here.”

“Th-this ain’t no joke! Why’d you bring folks like us to a place like this?”

“This is no mere prank or eccentric whim.” “We make this request having recognized your exceptional talents.” “You must have long been aware of your own renown.” “The life of Clerk Song Gongming of Yuncheng County depends precisely on those skills of yours.” “Would there be any greater purpose for a craftsman’s lifework than this?”

Wu Yong revealed his purpose. They had received kindness from Wu Yong in the past. Moreover, both men had long admired Song Jiang himself. Xiao Rang immediately burned with righteous resolve, and Jin Dajian declared: "Very well! I'll do it! When it comes to Chancellor Cai Jing's seals—I've carved various styles before: vermilion characters on white ground, white characters on vermilion ground—and I've thoroughly mastered the seal manuals." Thereupon Xiao Rang secluded himself in a secret chamber. Drawing upon his expertise in forgery and working from the draft text of the forged letter that Wu Yong the Resourceful Star and Dai Zong had prepared, he applied Jin Dajian's carved seal to produce Chancellor Cai's reply letter—a document indistinguishable from genuine correspondence to any observer's eyes.

Ah, with this, that gentleman’s fortunes had taken an unexpectedly favorable turn.

“Then let’s proceed without delay—” With that, Dai Zong carried it [the forged letter], bade farewell to the mountain stronghold’s assembly, coordinated plans for later days, hastily mounted the customary armored horses of his Divine Movement Technique, and departed back toward Jiangzhou’s skies. However, after seeing Dai Zong off at Jinshatan Port—as the entire stronghold had returned to their former banquet seats to exchange drinks—Strategist Wu Yong suddenly paled with realization, as though he had remembered something—

“Damn it! A single oversight after a thousand deliberations!” Wu Yong exclaimed inwardly. “I can only hope that forged reply doesn’t instead become Song Zi’s death warrant.” At these words, everyone was aghast and sobered up from their drunkenness. Xiao Rang and Jin Dajian—who had particularly devoted their exquisite skills and poured their hearts into crafting the forged ink and seals—retorted against Wu Yong’s lamentations and words of regret, staking their own honor on where they could have possibly erred.

The group staged a grand spectacle at the Jiangzhou execution ground. This was followed by their provisional muster at White Dragon Temple.

“It’s no one’s fault,” declared Wu Yong. “The oversight lies with this Wu Yong. This was the blunder of my lifetime.” “Strategist,” challenged one of them—likely Xiao Rang or Jin Dajian—their voices tight with disbelief, “how could that letter become Brother Song Jiang’s death warrant?” “I erred with the seal.” Wu Yong’s admission hung heavy in the air. “In my carelessness, I had you carve those four characters in small seal script—‘Hanlin Cai Jing’.” Jin Dajian squared his shoulders, defensive pride sharpening his tone. “What’s wrong with it? Every letter from Chancellor Cai I’ve ever laid eyes on bore that very seal!”

“No—this won’t do!” Wu Yong’s face had turned an uncharacteristic shade of pale. “Just think—isn’t Governor Cai Jiu of Jiangzhou Chancellor Cai’s own son?” “That is indeed so,” they answered in unison.

“Then why would a father stamp his true name ‘Cai Jing’ on a reply addressed to his son? In other words, one only uses their taboo name when humbling themselves before a superior. Furthermore, you’d never see a minister’s official directive to a local governor bearing such a personal seal!” This plunged them into crisis—the entire assembly’s anxiety and impatience sharpened to a razor’s edge. “Chase Dai Zong down at once!” But though they clamored, catching the flying steed of the Divine Movement Technique proved impossible. Was there no alternative? None whatsoever—all that remained was mustering Liangshan’s elite for an immediate march to Jiangzhou and awaiting Strategist Wu Yong the Resourceful Star’s divine plan to atone for this colossal blunder.

Meanwhile, Dai Zong—

Dai Zong had already returned to Jiangzhou and presented the capital’s reply to His Excellency Governor Cai Jiu along with his report. Cai Jiu was greatly satisfied and bestowed wine, silver, and other rewards, “Even with the Divine Movement Technique, you must be exhausted. Take a few days to rest.”

Having dismissed him, he proceeded to open his father Cai Jing's reply letter—it confirmed receipt of the congratulatory gifts in the basket, and in its closing passage: "The sorcerer-rebel Song Jiang, being a traitorous criminal, had been decreed by His Majesty to be dealt with in accordance with the grand laws of the imperial court and following the precedent of Your Majesty's personal judgment. That is to say: place him in a prison cart, have him escorted by imperial troops, and swiftly transport him to the capital gates. Furthermore, needless to say, as Huang Wenbing's contributions had also been reported to the throne, there would surely be rewards and honorable appointments bestowed upon him in due course."

And so there were various such details. Just then, an attendant reported that Huang Wenbing had arrived. For several days now, Huang had been making daily visits. Upon seeing his face, Cai promptly said.

“Wenbing, you may rejoice. “You will soon be appointed to an honorable position.” “Well, well! This is truly a dream-like decree from you.” “Do you think this is a lie? “Superintendent Dai has returned and brought my father’s reply—that’s the result.”

“Ah. Since he has already returned.”

“Your merits have been reported to the Son of Heaven; an imperial decree shall arrive imminently.”

“And regarding Song Jiang’s execution—?”

“It’s His Majesty’s urgent command to send him to the capital. Here—look at this. It’s precisely because it’s you—I’m showing this to you and you alone.” “Ah! This is too generous an honor.”

Huang respectfully received it and began reading Chancellor Cai’s reply letter, but his sharp eyes soon made him tilt his head again and again, and finally he spoke with resolute determination. “Your Excellency, this is a blatant counterfeit.” “D-don’t talk nonsense! This is unmistakably my father’s handwriting!” “Ah, no—this seal is one Your Esteemed Father used when he was still a scholar at the Hanlin Academy. It may appear authentic in calligraphy models, but now that His Excellency serves as Grand Councillor, this seal is no longer in use.”

“...Hmm?” “Moreover, why would Your Father stamp his personal name seal on a letter addressed to his own son? The phrasing is impeccable, but I’ve heard there are forgers these days adept at mimicking the calligraphy of the Four Great Masters. We cannot afford carelessness.” “In any case, I implore Your Excellency to summon Dai Zong again and interrogate him thoroughly on every suspicious point. Observe his reactions yourself.” “...I shall conceal myself behind the screen and scrutinize his demeanor with utmost care.”

At this very moment, Dai Zong himself—having nearly set his mind at ease—secretly visited Song Jiang’s cell, greatly comforted Song Jiang, and was on his way back to his own home’s gate for the first time in ages.

Having received an urgent summons from Cai Jiu and wondering what was afoot, he once again prostrated himself before him. However, Cai Jiu’s tone and countenance had already lost their initial favor. “Superintendent Dai. Did you personally meet my father the Grand Councillor when you were in the capital?” “Yes, Your Excellency! I had the honor of seeing His Lordship in most vigorous health.” “Then regarding Gate Captain Wang—the one who handles all inner gate affairs—he must have appeared before you too?” “Yes. I believe I caught sight of him.”

“Did he have a beard? And how old was this Wang?” “Indeed—as one would expect from a long-serving retainer of the Minister’s household—he appeared advanced in years with a most formidable beard.”

“Now, bind Dai Zong with ropes!” At his enraged shout, a dozen retainers who had been lying in ambush leapt out all at once and bound Dai Zong without allowing a word of protest. Dai Zong cried out in shock.

“What is the meaning of this?!” “Your Excellency, what crime have I committed?” “Shut up! Gate Captain Wang retired this spring due to old age. The one serving now is his son Wang—there’s no beard or anything like that!” Following that, Huang Wenbing also emerged from behind the screen and began pressing him relentlessly on every critical point. In the end, even Dai Zong found himself at a loss for answers. After being kicked down from the steps into the courtyard, he was subjected to unrelenting torture.

The torture continued into the night, and even Dai Zong could no longer endure the agony. When he lost consciousness, water was splashed on him until he ultimately had no choice but to confess that the letter was forged. He admitted—mixing truth with lies—that Liangshan Marsh bandits had captured him along the way and swapped out the letter. Immediately shackled and sent to prison, Dai Zong’s fate was sealed once the letter’s forgery became evident. The next day, Cai Jiu summoned the chief jailer and issued this severe decree.

“Carry out the execution of the imprisoned Song Jiang and Dai Zong together on the same day and at the same location. On the execution ground’s placard, publicly proclaim them as notorious bandits who conspired with Liangshan Marsh and plotted treacherous schemes.”

The chief jailer, who had always held goodwill toward Superintendent Dai and had even become a subordinate through worldly connections, could only stand there flustered and panicked, "And... uh... when shall we schedule the execution by beheading?" "It's decided. Carry it out immediately—tomorrow at the latest." "However—unfortunately—tomorrow is a national day of mourning; moreover, the following day marks Zhongyuan Festival on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, followed by His Majesty's birthday and Obon Festival. Therefore, even within this hellish prison, all—from guards to prisoners—must be given rest during these consecutive holidays."

“Tch. No helping it then. Then set it for six days from today.” Though coincidental, could it be said that heaven had smiled upon Song Jiang and Dai Zong?

Six days later, the road from the prison fortress to the execution ground in Jiangzhou's outskirts seethed with tremendous chaos. Spectators who had heard the news surged like waves beneath yellow clouds of dust. That morning, the two condemned prisoners were clad in white death robes according to custom, their spiked hair stiffened with glue-water instead of oil, a single red artificial flower inserted at the base of their scalps. Before the Blue-Faced Temple of the Prison God, they received a final bowl of rice and wine as farewell to this world. When the ritual ended, exposed atop bareback horses to staring eyes along the road, they were dragged toward the execution ground under heavy guard—ox-headed and horse-headed jailers gripping the reins while countless soldiers maintained vigilance.

The execution ground was a wide bamboo enclosure. The bamboo enclosure had been cut open at two points to create separate entrances: one for officials and one leading to the underworld. Before the mouths of the condemned prisoners were placed a pair of white lotus flowers and white rice dumplings; Song Jiang and Dai Zong, having been taken down from their bareback horses, were immediately dragged onto the death mat—though the appointed hour of noon was still slightly early. The mounted procession of inspection officials and their subordinates was still on the way. “Hey, hey, hey, hey! You can’t come in from there! Get out! Outside the bamboo enclosure!”

The bamboo enclosure swayed under the press of gathered spectators. The guards' voices grew hoarse. But their very efforts to contain it only fueled the chaos. Among them was a rowdy-looking group that appeared to be street performers— "It ain't me! The folks behind are shovin'!" "Hey soldiers, don't be so stingy! Spectators ain't your concern, right?" "Ain't this public space?"

Then, at the officials' entrance as well, a group of porters carrying some sort of load suddenly tried to push their way in. “Hey! What’re you hauling into the execution ground⁉” “Official delivery from the magistrate’s office.” “Liar! Lower those poles right now!” “Hypocritical soldiers, eh? Why not flaunt your style proper?” “Don’t mock us! Know where you stand?!” Then again, a merchant group pushing three Jiangzhou carts recklessly wedged into the human whirlpool.

“Heave-ho!” “Heave-ho!” “Heave-ho!” “Hey—!” The soldiers pushed them back. “Where do you think you’re going? Where? Can’t you see the bamboo enclosure?!” “To the open area inside!” “You bastards want your heads chopped off too?” “Eep…!” The traveling merchants laughed together. “We’ll pass on that! We’ll just be watching from here, you know.” They climbed onto their carts and peered over the bamboo enclosure, shading their eyes with their hands. Then a strange snake charmer, beggars, pinwheel vendors, balloon sellers, and all sorts of riffraff crowded around noisily. Even when restrained, they couldn’t be controlled.

Chaos erupted everywhere. The commotion was no ordinary affair. Amidst this turmoil, at the execution ground's center, inspection officials and their subordinates had already appeared, read aloud the criminal charges, and no sooner had they removed the neck restraints from both prisoners than two executioners boldly approached bearing broadswords to utter a single word: “Make your peace!”

Beneath that cry.

A flash—something glinted and moved visibly even from afar. No—not at the very moment, but an instant before it all unfolded. Both sword handlers ducked their faces as two arrows came streaking through the air, while elsewhere— Clang! Clang-clang-clang... The rapid clanging of a gong rang out. The one striking it was a traveling merchant standing atop a Jiangzhou cart—though his companions had already vanished from sight. They dashed into the execution ground's heart like swift birds. No—swifter still were the porters and street performers from another gate. In an instant, under nodachi blades, clubs, short spears, thin swords, and carrying poles—every weapon at hand—the jailers became bloodied sacrifices as [they] rampaged. What seemed present vanished in a blink—Song Jiang and Dai Zong had disappeared without trace. Only two reed mats remained in that hellscape; all else resembled a battlefield's merciless gale.

It felt as though he had been swept up by raging waves and brought ashore by their fury. Song Jiang regained consciousness,

“Wh-wh-what are you all…?” Utterly astonished, Song Jiang couldn’t truly feel even the joy of being alive so suddenly. Dai Zong was no different. Not even in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that the faces now before him were all Liangshan Marsh comrades—Chao Gai, Hua Rong, Lu Fang, Guo Sheng, and their band. Yan Shun, Liu Tang, Du Xuan, and Song Wan—valiant heroes. Zhu Gui, Short Tiger, and Zheng Tianshou—the brave. Furthermore, there were seventeen prominent figures such as Ruan Xiao’er, Ruan Xiaowu, Ruan Xiaoqi, and Bai Sheng, along with over a hundred subordinates. It went without saying that all of them had disguised themselves as traveling merchants, porters, and vendors to accomplish their objective in one fell swoop.

“Ah—the unwavering loyalty of you brothers, never forgetting one as lowly as me—I’ve truly no words left.”

Song Jiang wept dejectedly. Dai Zong was soaked in tears of joy. The myriad emotions—from all that had transpired to what lay ahead—simply could not be put into words in an instant. “By the way, where exactly are we?” “This must be the White Dragon Temple by the riverside.” “Won’t the pursuers come?” “Of course they will come.” “But a man covered in black wielding two broadaxes declared, ‘Leave the rear guard to me!’ and went cutting through the chaos without restraint, driving them away.” “Huh. A man holding two broadaxes?” Who on earth could that be? “But we have no such person among our comrades.”

“Ah! Now I see—that’s Black Whirlwind Li Kui! It appears he too has been lying in wait for today’s opportunity despite acting alone.”

At that moment, Li Kui—now in a frenzy—came charging through the temple gate at breakneck speed. Facing the group, he proclaimed loudly from outside: “We can’t stay here till evening!” “In the city, under Cai Jiu and Huang Wenbing’s command, a thousands-strong army is assembling! Quickly cross the river and make your escape!”

Song Jiang and Dai Zong called out from the temple. “Li Kui, come here.” “I’ll introduce you to the Liangshan Marsh leaders.” “Oh, I was plannin’ on that myself!”

The timing was right when another group came ashore from three ships that had just reached the riverbank. They were Zhang Shun ("White Streak in the Waves") and Zhang Heng; the Mu brothers; Xue Yong ("the Wanderer"); local bosses Li Jun and Li Li; Tong Wei and Tong Meng—all those called the "Three Overlords of the Yangtze," who had even gathered their salt-smuggling comrades to rush here for Song Jiang's rescue as well. Yet Song Jiang was already present there. "Oh, thank you. "Thanks to you all, I stand here now. "But your coming shall by no means be in vain. "First, let me introduce everyone."

Song Jiang stood in the middle and introduced the Three Overlords to Chao Gai and the rest of the Liangshan group. The location was fitting—it took place in the grand corridor of the White Dragon Temple’s shrine. And so, with Black Whirlwind Li Kui joining these newcomers, later generations would refer to this day as, *“The Provisional Gathering at White Dragon Temple”* and thus praised its grandeur. Thus, as evening unexpectedly closed in, they were forced to confront an early assault from over a thousand cavalry and infantry troops from the city—clashing cries and a bloody night battle ensuing—but soon repelled the government forces into the distance, whereupon the entire group boarded ships from the banks near White Dragon Temple.

The sails, pregnant with wind, flapped but briefly as they raced down the river like arrows. The place they arrived at was the Mu family’s estate in Jieyangzhen Suburban Village—namely, the estate of the Mu Chun brothers.

The elderly Mu patriarch raised his hands in welcome. The servants and maids all worked together to begin preparing the meal. Oxen, sheep, chickens, pigs, ducks—all the garden vegetables and livestock—were thrown into cooking pots and large cauldrons.

A grand banquet commenced. Even for a great manor, this was excessive. The tables were all brought out to the garden—a scene truly worthy of a feast beneath starry skies. Then passionate chants arose at once: “We must not let Huang Wenbing’s villainy go unpunished…” And so it was settled. Xue Yong—once an ointment peddler turned wanderer—saw his chance to repay old debts: “First, send me to scout Wuwei Army Town.” “I know its geography and have contacts there.” Having volunteered as lookout, he received immediate approval from all—

“Go now.” “Immediately.” And they applauded his appointment.

Two days later. Xue Yong returned with a small man. According to his introduction, this small man was born in Hongdu, bore the curious nickname “Arms of the Ape,” and went by the true name Hou Jian. “Why did you bring this person?” When Song Jiang inquired, Xue Yong grinned and replied. “His occupation is that of a tailor. If you give him a needle and thread, he possesses skills akin to divine craftsmanship.” “Hoh. A tailor—that’s unusual. But for what purpose did you bring this tailor?”

“In fact, until just this spring, he had been living in Huang Wenbing’s household as a retained tailor.” “But he has now been dismissed.” “So he’s familiar with the internal affairs.” “That’s why I’ve brought him here.” “Please hear the details from this Hou Jian.”

There was much of value worth hearing in Hou Jian’s account. Huang Wenbing’s infamy was undeniable, but his elder brother Huang Wenye was so well-regarded by the local people that—

Huang Fozi (Buddha Huang) he was so highly reputed as a virtuous man that he went by the nickname Huang Fozi (Buddha Huang). Every time, he showed deep compassion to the poor, raised orphans, built public bridges at his own expense, and whenever there were wind disasters or floods, he spared no effort or wealth—truly, the difference between him and his wicked younger brother Wenbing was so stark that one could hardly believe they had come from the same mother’s womb. Therefore, despite being the younger brother of this Huang Fozi, Huang Wenbing was called “Poisonous Bee Sting” even by the townsfolk. Though he had forty or fifty male and female servants, it was said that not a single one truly respected him as their master from the heart.

“So that’s how it is…” The tailor Hou Jian pursed his small lips. “If Xue Yong and I casually drop by the servants’ quarters pretending to have fun, get everyone laughing, then bring our forces through the vegetable garden’s gate that night—why, even if the mansion looks tightly guarded, breaking into that sort of place would be no trouble at all.”

"But what of Elder Brother Wenye's residence?" "Across the main thoroughfare, Younger Brother Wenbing's mansion stands directly opposite." "Wenye has cultivated good karma. We must not visit calamity upon such a virtuous man."

Song Jiang had grown passive, but the faction’s hatred for Wenbing’s treachery showed no signs of abating. Deeming it both a parting gift for their expulsion from Jiangzhou and a warning to the world, the campaign against the Huang family was finally set into motion.

On the following night, twenty-nine leaders of Liangshan Marsh and a hundred forty to fifty followers boarded seven vessels—large and small—divided among them, and sneaked upriver to Wuwei Army Town.—Earlier that very day, the tailor Hou Jian and Xue Yong had already skillfully infiltrated Huang Wenbing’s mansion under a fabricated pretext.

Midnight.

Under the vast summer moon. The town turned to flame. Like the fires of war. By the fourth watch, though the entire town seemed reduced to ashes in the chaos, only Huang Wenbing’s estate had burned completely to the ground—his elder brother Wenye’s residence across the way remained wholly untouched. Indeed, when embers appeared to leap toward Wenye’s dwelling, a mysterious band—neither townspeople nor household retainers—abandoned their attack and instead labored to douse the flames. Come dawn, the townsfolk...

“Where on earth did that horde of people come from, and where did they vanish to?” The townspeople whispered in suspicion until rumors began circulating—it was surely the same Liangshan Marsh bandits from Shandong who had turned Jiangzhou Prefecture into a blood-soaked battleground just four days prior. At this realization, their hairs stood on end. Yet by early dawn, seven mysterious vessels—large and small—had already drifted onto the fog-cloaked river. The deed was done. —All but one crucial objective. Their sworn enemy Huang Wenbing had been at either the Jiangzhou Magistrate’s Office or Cai Jiu’s residence that night, never returning to his Wuwei Army Town home. Thus he ultimately slipped through their grasp.

The Great River's current carried away the villain's blood offering, while Liangshan Marsh seethed with those who had returned alive. There exists a saying about fires on opposite shores, but for Huang Wenbing, the blaze in Wuwei Army Town across the river must have struck like thunder from clear skies—so shocking it nearly robbed him of consciousness. Far from being another's misfortune—the rumors spoke of his own home burning. In frantic haste, he bid farewell to Cai Jiu and crossed the river in his private pleasure craft, yet his heart remained hollow.

Greedy, cruel, stingy, sycophantic—all the ill repute he had coldly disregarded as he amassed a lifetime's worth of gold, silver, and treasures, the assets that filled his storehouses—what in the world had become of them all?

Then suddenly, a blast from an iron flute slicing through the water chilled him to the bone—for he saw three small boats rowing toward him from somewhere. "Ah!" Wenbing collapsed in shock as he spotted Dai Zong on an approaching bow. On another boat stood Black Whirlwind gripping twin axes. "Bandits! Turn us around!"

However, it was already too late. The shadows of five more large ships closed in. Huang Wenbing, overwhelmed by panic, jumped into the river. The instant he did, spray erupted from a small boat. White Streak in the Waves Zhang Shun traced a shadow through the water like a great fish in motion, effortlessly seized Wenbing, and hauled him up toward the large ship. “Look at you now!”

“Come on, everyone gather round!”

“It’s time to slice up Wicked Wenbing like sashimi! I thought you were one tough bastard with rotten luck, but rotten luck ain’t somethin’ ya can count on after all. You get the picture now?” The ship erupted into uproar. It was a bloodbath. After brief torments and token trials, there was no choice but to throw him into the river. In the end, every last bit of the gold, silver, and treasures that man had pinched pennies to accumulate over his lifetime had been transferred from his warehouse to these three large ships the previous night.

“Alright, let’s pull out.” “Let’s move while we still have daylight.” On this day as well, centered around Jiangzhou’s prefectural city, the banners of government troops and the smoke from horses could be seen all along the riverbank. Large-scale preparations were likely underway.

Messengers were dispatched to the capital; official orders flew to every province; the name of Liangshan Marsh must have been shaking the entire land. “Under these circumstances, we can no longer remain in this land.” “We will take our elderly father and depart alongside all of you.” Thus, the Mu brothers, the members of the Three Overlords, even Xue Yong and the small tailor made this proposal, and everything was settled for their defection to Liangshan Marsh.

Once, everyone returned to the Mu household. Then, they further solidified through ceremonial cups the oath of brotherhood previously sworn at White Dragon Temple, transferring all Mu family assets—save for the land left behind—onto more than a dozen carts. Thus did this band of one hundred seventy to eighty men, having perfected their elusive ways, return to Liangshan Marsh like the wind within days.

At the stronghold, people had multiplied once more, while simultaneously, their treasure vaults swelled to fullness. Moreover, around this period, bandits called the Four Leaders of Huangmen Mountain—drawn like leaves to the wind—descended upon Liangshan Marsh and were incorporated into the Liangshan alliance. As for these four men’s former lives and lineages—what manner of men were they? First came Ou Peng, nicknamed Cloud-Scraping Golden Wings. He had been a disgraced officer from the river patrol forces. Second was Jiang Jing. A Tanzhou, Hunan native who failed the civil service examinations. —Blessed with strategic acumen and unmatched in calligraphy and arithmetic, he carried the sobriquet “Divine Calculator.”

The third was Ma Lin, also known as Jiankang of Nanjing. He excelled with the halberd and mastered the iron flute. Furthermore, the fourth man was the son of a tenant farmer from Guang Prefecture who possessed brute strength. While naturally adept with hoes and spades as expected, he surprisingly demonstrated equal skill with swords and spears. His nickname was peculiar—Nine-Tailed Turtle—but bearing the proper name Tao Zongwang left no doubt he was human through and through.

“Now, everyone,” One day, Wu Yong proposed. “Now that such diverse individuals—each possessing their own skills—have naturally gathered like a constellation of stars, to properly maintain Liangshan Marsh, we must strictly establish a hierarchy and order of propriety.” “…First and foremost, should it not be Song Gongming himself whom we of the Liang faction look up to as our foremost leader?”

With hardly a single objection, they raised both hands, “That’s right! We earnestly desire this!” declared the entire group surrounding Song Jiang.

“Out of the question!”

Song Jiang firmly declined.

“Through your efforts alone, my brothers, was my life barely spared—I who now merely bathe in your kindness, no more than an idler. I beg you to install Lord Chao Gai in the seat of leadership.” “One such as myself could never fulfill such a duty.” Despite their united urging, there remained no sign he would comply.

“Very well.” As for the commander’s seat, in the end Chao Gai took it. And so with public discussion proceeding smoothly—placing Song Jiang in second position, Military Strategist Wu Yong in third, and Gongsun Sheng in fourth—even Song Jiang found himself unable to refuse up to that point and accepted.

From the very beginning, this had never been Song Jiang’s intention. He loved people, worried about the world, and deeply sympathized with those who faced hardship and misfortune, but never in his wildest dreams had he considered joining a band of thieves. To serve as an official and be called a good administrator; to remain at home and dutifully care for his elderly father; to read books and restrain himself; and to devote affection and sincerity to his neighbors and townspeople—this had been his life’s purpose: to enjoy a tranquil existence. As for how one should live life—he was a man who had no other path.

Yet he ended up in this plight.

Now branded a rebellious insurgent by the imperial court, he found no place in heaven or earth to shelter himself. If he wished to live, there was only this fellowship of Liangshan Marsh and a clod of earth's tiny realm.

“Then, Commander Chao, please designate the seating order from here onward.”

At Wu Yong’s words, Chao Gai,

“I leave it to your discretion.” Taking into account factors such as personal merit and seniority, he called out the names. First for the fifth seat: Leopard-Head Lin Chong.

Then, proceeding in order. Liu Tang, Ruan Xiao’er, Ruan Xiaowu, Ruan Xiaoqi, Du Xuan, Song Wan, Zhu Gui, Bai Sheng.

Those mentioned were assigned to the left seats. As for the seating order on the right side: Hua Rong, Qin Ming, Huang Xin, Dai Zong, Li Kui. Additionally, Li Jun, Mu Hong, Zhang Heng, Zhang Shun, Lü Fang, Guo Sheng, Xiao Rang, Wang Aihu, Xue Yong, Jin Dajian, Mu Chun, Li Li, Ou Peng, Jiang Jing, Tong Wei, Tong Meng, Ma Lin, Shi Yong, Hou Jian, Zheng Tianshou, Tao Zongwang—in total, forty leaders were counted for the stronghold. In the Assembly Hall's large censer incense smoldered; on the altar for star worship offerings were laid out; and amid drumming and music a celebratory feast commenced. Such grand ceremonies always lasted three days. The following day saw festive displays not only among the stronghold's followers but also in each of the dozens of family huts dotting the back mountain.

There were children, old men, grandchildren, and old women. They cultivated their mountain fields, unaware of worldly affairs, and seemed to bask peacefully in their own small patch of sunlight. As Song Jiang gazed upon this scene, he suddenly recalled his elderly father back home—with whom all contact had ceased—and before he knew it, tears began to flow.

Then, that night at an assembly where all were gathered, “Though newly rescued and brought here, I must make another selfish request—I absolutely must go out into the world once more.” “I humbly beg my brothers to grant me these few days’ leave.” he petitioned.

“Huh? You say you’re going out into the world—but where to and for what purpose?” “The truth is, I’m deeply concerned about my elderly father back home.” “Ha ha ha! Master’s at it again!” “Here goes Master again!” The multitude of comrades laughed heartily. When they saw Song Jiang’s eyelids trembling as if about to spill something hot, though they fully understood this warranted sympathy, they couldn’t help but laugh. In the heavenly dream at Xuannü Temple, Song Jiang— He came to realize his earthly mission as one bearing celestial mandate.

Song Jiang's filial devotion was extraordinary. Chao Gai and Wu Yong did not try to stop him for that reason. However, seeing that Song Jiang’s solo journey was extremely dangerous,

“Then, Master, go safely. In return, please bring along ten or so bodyguards… Otherwise, we’d be so worried that we couldn’t just sit here peacefully waiting for your return.” With that, they immediately set about selecting those individuals.

But Song Jiang firmly declined that as well. Since his younger brother Song Qing was also in their hometown, the return journey to bring his elderly father here would make their party three. This way, they would attract less attention in society, and above all, his elderly father would be able to come more comfortably. It seemed this man’s disposition inclined toward a preference for handling matters privately—avoiding burdening others and resolving his own affairs himself in all things. Though they considered forcing him to change his mind, the entire populace of Liangshan Marsh held a grand farewell banquet for him the next day and

“Please take care.”

And so they saw him off on his solo journey all the way to the land beyond Jinsha Beach. With the passing of days, Song Jiang arrived at his hometown of Yuncheng County’s Song Family Village. With his senses attuned even to the sound of the wind, he waited for nightfall and knocked softly on the back door of his own home. Then his younger brother Song Qing immediately came out. The moment they saw each other’s faces, the brothers embraced and remained wordless for some time.

“Brother. Why have you returned so suddenly into this danger?” “The truth is, Song Qing. I’ve finally reached a point where there’s no place left for me in this world but Liangshan Marsh... That’s why I came to take Father and you back to the mountain stronghold. Now—prepare immediately. And tell Father the same.” “Out of the question!...” Song Qing waved his hand urgently. “Since the Jiangzhou incident, they’ve issued warrants for your identity everywhere. The county has cast a dragnet—they’d never leave this house unwatched. The yamen’s chief constables Zhao Neng and Zhao De keep their patrols on constant alert.”

“What?!” “So you’re saying the county patrols are watching somewhere?”

“We are decoys.” “They’ve left everything as it was precisely because they know how filial you are—certain you’d come here eventually. If you take the bait, neither Father nor I, nor even you yourself will escape unscathed.” “If you truly wish to rescue us then I beg you—call upon Liangshan Marsh’s strength.” “Without numerous reinforcements we cannot possibly leave this village.” Song Jiang deeply regretted his actions. Though Chao Gai and Wu Yong had urged him so strenuously he couldn’t suppress this belated remorse. But it was already too late. He had no choice but to return and plead once more. And so he—without even seeing the elderly father’s face—promised only Song Qing they would meet again later before immediately retracing his path. Even as he ran he reproached his own folly. What thoughtless obstinacy I forced through—how many wasted days I squandered! he thought.

Sweat seeped through even to his robe. The road was dark. An ominous moon hung hazily. How far had he run? Moreover, amidst all this, came the sound of numerous footsteps.

“Song Jiang, stop right there!” He staggered repeatedly. His breathing was so ragged it felt like his heart might leap from his mouth, yet terror drove him relentlessly onward. He hurried along, gasping for breath. But behind him, the voices calling him drew ever closer. “Dear heavens...”

Did the thin clouds clear? Suddenly, a hazy field of vision appeared whitish under the moonlight. To his astonishment, the place he had wandered into lay deep within a forest encircled by multiple layers of hills—a spot locally called “Huan Dao Village” among the folk.

“You bastard! There’s no escape left!” The forty or fifty pursuers who had chased him crashed through the grove and scattered to search.—Song Jiang, numb with terror, slammed his shoulders against the old temple door that suddenly loomed before him and tumbled inside. Something—a bat or flying squirrel—brushed past his eyes. No—the pursuers’ flickering torches were darting about outside the temple. He could no longer stay hidden. Ah... This is it! This is the end!

The moment he staggered. Was that spot an exit to the inner courtyard, or had part of the wall rotted away? His body tumbled into the jade fence. Looking around, there was a shrine hall flanked by two rows of covered corridors on either side, its blue tiles buried in grass and the surroundings left desolate with fallen leaves—Song Jiang frantically crawled up the steps. He clambered over the decayed railing and brushed aside the strange moldy stench and spiderwebs. And then he hid inside the innermost part of the sacred cabinet.

With a splintering crack, the sound of something being stomped through came from somewhere. Next came the figures of Zhao Neng and Zhao De storming in clamorously, their subordinates carrying torches. The main hall here wasn't large. Song Jiang had already closed his eyes in resignation.

Then came a roaring mountain wind that shook the surroundings. No—this was no ordinary gust. It let out an eerie creaking groan like a house straining at its joints, and in that instant, a mass of dust—as if the ceiling had collapsed—swallowed the pursuers’ torches like black ink. Zhao Neng and Zhao De both clamped hands over their eyes, “Ugh…” “This is bad!” “Wh-what’s with this gale?!”

“Could it be…?” They all wore identical expressions—faces frozen in horror, every hair standing on end. The seven or eight subordinates had already scrambled out sideways in their panic. This is the inner sanctum of the temple—this must be divine wrath for defiling its sacred might. Punishment will strike—we’ll vomit black blood—our eyes will burst! Amidst such terrified cries—even as their captain roared commands—they all fled in panic. However, Zhao Neng and Zhao De likely couldn’t flee either; gritting their teeth, they held their ground,

“You fools! There might be foxes lurking about, but if gods or buddhas truly existed, I’d have met one by now. Hey brothers! Tear off that curtain on the sacred cabinet! That bastard Song Jiang might be hiding there!” “Understood!”

But what was happening? With a sudden ghastly wind came a pale flash like lightning. Bathed in unbearable brightness that forced them to clutch their heads, both men spun round and round like tops until they nearly lost consciousness. In other words, as if they had just now encountered the very beings they’d claimed to want to meet, Zhao Neng and Zhao De too had their souls scattered and fled somewhere, vanishing without a trace.

But the strangeness didn’t end there. In that instant, Song Jiang too felt a violet lightning bolt—as though his body had been split clean in two—and collapsed face-down. And it was definitely not the foul odor of lightning—no, rather, he felt a fragrance one might even call rich and sweet drawing near him. Undoubtedly, that was unmistakably a human presence,

“Star Lord.” “Star Lord…” Two blue-clad attendants were calling to him from both sides. Blankly, Song Jiang gazed with vacant eyes at the figures of the two attendants. Tianzhu-style topknots. Langgan gemstone earrings. Phoenix-shaped shoes.

Moreover, their blue damask robes bore patterns of flowers and birds; light purple, long flowing cords swayed with the breeze.

“Oh? …Who are you? And you two?” “We are the goddess’s handmaidens.” “We have come to welcome you, Lord Song Xingzhu.” “Star Lord?” “I am not such a person.” “No, there is no mistake.” “If you would kindly come, you will understand.”

“Where to?”

“To the abode of the Goddess who awaits your presence.” A refreshing breeze had, unbeknownst to him, begun to bear Song Jiang along. There was a moon—this moon seemed almost within reach, clad in a pearlescent radiance he had never witnessed before.

“Oh?” Could this place be inside that moon? Song Jiang doubted. In all his years since birth, his aged father had never once mentioned such a place existing near their hometown of Song Family Village. “Star Lord.” “Please, this way.” Silver willows, golden flowers, a garden of emerald mists encircling the tower. This jade staircase that invited ascent—just whose mansion in the world was this? Suddenly, the celestial immortal palace came to mind. “……Ah, right—the maidens must also be immortal youths.”

While keeping these thoughts deep in his heart, Song Jiang ascended the tower and prostrated himself before the inner hall’s forefront. The celestial music resonating from some unknown place carried an unearthly clarity beyond mortal realms. The dragon and phoenix carved upon vermilion pillars seemed poised to roar as one, until finally within the beaded curtain, a richly fragrant divine aura began to stir,

“Star Lord, it has been too long.” “Now that you have come here, there is no need for formality.” “Please approach.”

A beautiful voice called out warmly and had the curtain there lifted high with a rustle.

Song Jiang cowered and grew even more afraid. "I am nothing but a lowly man from the mortal realm. How could one such as myself have strayed into this divine realm? I beg you to show mercy and send me back." "Hohoho." The Goddess laughed like tumbling jade. She then ordered four immortal attendants, who urgently urged Song Jiang to take a seat beyond the curtain. It was a chair of embroidered silk.

Finally having somewhat calmed himself, when he looked at the four walls, the light of dragon lamps and phoenix candles reflected blue and gold in interplay, while immortal maidens arrayed in two rows held banners, incense jars, ceremonial tablets, and floral offerings. And the one seated upon the jeweled throne of seven treasures—this must be the Goddess herself. Crowned high upon her coiffure with a golden diadem inlaid with a soaring phoenix, nine dragons, and seven-colored jewels, she spilled forth a smile of unparalleled natural beauty—dazzlingly radiant. Her snow-white skin exuded a wondrous fragrance. From her silver gauze robe that draped gracefully about her to the belt adorned with Lantian pearls and the white jade ornaments, her form was as if she were made of light itself.

“Star Lord, you have come to no harm.” The Goddess remained resolute in not treating Song Jiang as someone she was meeting for the first time. In celebration of their long-awaited reunion, she immediately ordered her handmaidens to bring wine. Song Jiang received about three cups of wine as they were poured for him. The Goddess then spoke: “Serve those jujubes to our honored guest.” And so jujubes from the immortal realm were offered. Song Jiang ate them too, but having nowhere to discard the pits, he clenched them in his palm.

His mouth seemed to contain musk. A faintly glowing warmth suffused him, his body growing light, “My body feels as though I’ve turned into a butterfly fluttering among flowers. I lost track of time. I can partake no more.”

With that, he returned the lapis lazuli cup to the attendants. “If I insist too much…”

With that, the Goddess cast obsidian-like eyes toward the attendants,

“Then, present the three volumes of the Heavenly Books here.” With that command, they were presented as a gift to Song Jiang. They were three volumes wrapped in yellow silk, measuring five sun in length and width and three sun in thickness—the Goddess bestowed them upon him and spoke: “Star Lord: “Please act on Heaven’s behalf to implement the Heavenly Books’ path in the mortal world.” “There exists none but you.” “Show mercy upon mortal kind, purge the nation’s poisons and expunge the world’s evils. Let neither righteousness nor compassion, trust nor sincerity be lost within this defiled world.” “In this undertaking, fear has no place.” “Herewith lie four verses of celestial words…”

When you meet destiny, rejoice again and again. Meeting the exalted brings no calamity. Foreign barbarians and domestic rebels— In many places shall wondrous deeds manifest.

“You will surely come to understand its meaning in time. Keep this engraved in your heart for all your days, and never forget it.”

Song Jiang strained his ears, prostrated nine times, and did nothing but listen intently. The Goddess reiterated, “His Celestial Majesty the Jade Emperor deigned to banish you to the mortal realm to temper the demonic impulses and immaturity in the ‘Way’ that yet linger within you—but should celestial fate permit, he will deign to summon you back to the Purple Palace of Heaven.” “However, should you ever fall into crimes grave enough to be recorded in the Netherworld’s prison registry while in the mortal realm, even my power will not be able to save you.” “Make the three volumes of Heavenly Books your companions hereafter and devote yourself to their study.” “As for companions in your studies, let it be limited solely to Tianjixing (Wu Yong the Resourceful Star), and under no circumstances must you show them to any others.” “By no means must you grow negligent… Ah, though our farewell is not yet complete, for the gulf between heavenly and mortal realms cannot detain you forever—now deign to return swiftly.”

Song Jiang started and prostrated himself. To his prostrated form came once more the voice of the Goddess: "Someday without fail, we shall meet again in His Celestial Majesty the Jade Emperor's divine garden." "May you fulfill your earthly destiny without mishap."

……At that very moment.

Somewhere deep within, Song Jiang gasped. The surroundings appeared amidst deep indigo-black waves as two dragons playfully coiled around him. Terrified, he thrashed to escape—and as he struggled, gulped down water... gulp after gulp after gulp. At the very moment this thought formed—he jolted awake. It had all been nothing but a fleeting Nanke dream.

“……Ah… So it was a dream…” He limply regained his physical form, but even as a dream, it felt uncanny. The three volumes of Heavenly Books wrapped in yellow silk lay upon his knees. Moreover, three jujube pits were clutched in his palms, while the heady aroma of wine still lingered in his mouth.

"Hmm." "Ah—a dream yet not a dream." "This must be what they call divine revelation—or one of those prophetic visions people speak of." "...Then...my destiny?" He stumbled out of the shrine as though freed from fear and stood outside the temple. Only then did he clearly see four resplendent characters in gold and azure upon the temple's plaque. Xuannü Temple

Thus it was read. Xuannü, Ninth Heaven Xuannü. He chanted under his breath while casting his eyes toward the sky. The time seemed already to be midnight. The moon hung at mid-heaven. Small and distant, it hung.

Song Jiang untied his belt. After securing the three volumes of Heavenly Books directly against his skin at his waist, he immediately sprinted down the moonlit path. Yet scarcely had he left Xuannü Temple when his figure was apparently noticed. Six or seven men came chasing through the woods behind him like panthers.

“Hey!” “Hey, wait!” It wasn’t just from behind. From three directions, those calling voices echoed one another. Song Jiang froze in place, “Damn it!”

he shouted. Ahead, at the cliff’s edge echoed the sound of a waterfall. This was indeed a dead-end waterfall path. However, what might have been called heaven-sent aid—the men who had been swarming up from behind were, unexpectedly, “Oh! Isn’t this Mr. Song?” “That’s right—it’s Master Song Jiang.” While saying this in unison, before him—with their bewildered and astonished expressions— “Please rest assured. “I am Red-Haired Devil Liu Tang from Liangshan Marsh.” “This one is Stone General Shi Yong.”

“Life-Snatching Judge Li Li.” Next came Ou Peng, then Tao Zongwang—each proclaimed their names in turn. Finally came a man wielding two axes who had rushed in slightly late. “Oh! Mr. Song!” “Whew!” “This puts our minds at ease too.” “Hey, Liu Tang! Get to the pass and let everyone know about this right away!” he said with bloodthirsty vigor. This was none other than Black Whirlwind Li Kui. The twin axes glistened freshly with blood.

Song Jiang heaved a sigh of relief, enveloped in the sensation of being reborn, yet still let his dreamlike state linger uncertainly,

“What is going on here?” “Why on earth have you all come here?” He could only look around at the gathered men. “Now you’re always scolding this Li Kui,” came the retort, “but there’s no one like you for making others fret over your business!” Then, in his characteristically blunt manner, Li Kui gave a rough account of what had transpired: No sooner had Song Jiang departed Liangshan Marsh alone than Strategist Wu Yong and Commander Chao had swiftly organized a unit to secretly follow him to Yuncheng County.

Something was certain to befall Song Jiang. If things went badly, he would fall into an official trap. They had predicted that waiting until hearing of calamity would make any rescue too late. And their prediction had proven correct. That night at Song Family Village, they divided their forces into three groups: one ventured into Huandao Village's mountains to save Song Jiang in his hour of need; another extracted his younger brother Song Qing and elderly father from the family estate, assigned guards on the spot, and escorted them straight to Liangshan Marsh without delay.

“So Master…” said Li Kui, first addressing Song Jiang’s greatest concern to reassure him— “Next—about those pursuit captains Zhao Neng and Zhao De—this very Black Whirlwind just finished them off with these twin axes near Xuannü Temple.” “So there’s nothing left to fret about.” “But up at the pass, everyone’s surely fretting and waiting for word.” “Come now, Master! Let’s make haste over there!”

With that, he had already taken the lead and started running. Soon, Song Jiang spotted a cluster of dark figures atop the ridge. Already, those people too—having learned of Song Jiang’s safety through Liu Tang’s report—were all waving joyfully under the moonlight. Namely, they were Commander Chao Gai and his fortress companions: Hua Rong, Qin Ming, Huang Xin, Xue Yong, Jiang Jing, and Ma Lin. Then Li Jun, Song Wan, Mu Hong, Zhang Huang, Zhang Shun, Mu Chun, Hou Jian, Xiao Rang, and Jin Dajian also joined them there, and when combined with Li Kui’s group, it became a gathering of approximately thirty to forty men.

“Truly, I have caused you all unnecessary worry.”

Song Jiang offered a deep apology to the entire group, and particularly— “My elderly father and younger brother have already been taken to Liangshan Marsh under your arrangements—I will not forget your kindness.”

Then bowing over Chao Gai's hand, he appeared overcome with tears of joy for some time. Chao Gai too rejoiced at their safe deliverance, and deeming it wisest to withdraw immediately without delay, they all became mounted riders and turned their horses' heads eastward. Song Jiang too was given a horse, and from its back while secretly looking down at Xuannü Temple's blue tiles amidst the forest on the mountainside,

"I will surely return someday to give thanks for today's deliverance," he vowed inwardly. "These three Heavenly Books and four Divine Precepts—I shall engrave them in my heart, never forgetting them while breath remains." He kept repeating this oath in his soul's depths. Was that a night heron crying through the moonlit dawn? Or perhaps some shepherd boy singing ancient verses in the hills? From somewhere within the lunar radiance came drifting a poem of archaic elegance: When necessity compels, The celestial spheres turn— The world beholds hemp's unraveling.

Do you not see heroes rising from humble stations? Become a wave, roaring through Shandong's realm. The Heavenly Gang Star now dwells not in heaven’s nations, But descends to carve deeds of one hundred-eight at the helm. Within flows an auspicious aura – one man from Yuncheng’s earth, There’s none who knows not Timely Rain Song Jiang’s worth. Tonight bestowed with Xuannü’s Heavenly Books’ rebirth, The Moon Rabbit guides him to Liangshan Marsh’s girth. Behold henceforth benevolence and righteous ways, Where mortal men now wield Heaven’s mandate’s blaze.

Li Kui, too, was a human child—he found himself recalling his mother back in Baizhang Village.

Strategist Wu Yong had remained behind at Liangshan Marsh this time. Even before hearing of Song Jiang’s safety, Song Qing and his elderly father had been escorted to the fortress. He promptly assigned a modest residence in a suitable location within Liangshan for the Song family and awaited everyone’s return.

Not many days had passed when the fleet of boats that crossed Jinsha Beach revealed Commander Chao and his men amid cheers. To Song Jiang’s bright face upon his safe return, even the mountains and waters seemed to surge in tumultuous welcome.

What particularly moved people to tears was the sight of the elderly father running out from the welcoming group and Song Jiang rushing over to him; forgetting all onlookers, they clung tightly to each other and wept for a time. Needless to say, on this very day, his younger brother Iron Fan Song Qing also became a member of the fortress.

Thus did Song Jiang achieve his long-cherished wish of "father and son living together," but there arose subsequent repercussions from this.――These manifested suddenly during the grand banquet held the following day to celebrate this very achievement.

“I have a request.” “Commander, and esteemed brothers of the fortress.” “I earnestly beseech you to grant this request.” When they saw whose voice it was, it was none other than that master of Taoist arts, Taoist Priest Yiqing—Gongsun Sheng. “In truth, I too have an elderly mother left behind in my hometown, enduring my unfilial neglect for many years.” “Nor have I even sent word to my Taoist master since then.” “Additionally, my heart is filled with the desire to visit my hometown once and make amends for my usual neglect.” “Might I humbly ask that you kindly grant this Yiqing a leave of four or five months?”

“Hmm…”

“That person is crying as he speaks!” The entire group was deeply moved. Unanimously, his wish was—

“That’s only natural. Master Yiqing, safe travels.”

With that, it was unanimously decided on the spot by the assembly.

Gongsun Sheng was overjoyed. Two days later, he had already assumed his former appearance as a wandering Taoist priest—a ritual sword at his waist, a palm-leaf hat on his head, white robes and leggings, and a pack on his back—as he set off toward his hometown of Jizhou.

Then, it was on their way back after seeing him off. For some reason, Black Whirlwind Li Kui was uncharacteristically rubbing his eyes with his fists from time to time. The comrades found this amusing,

“Li Kui, did a bee sting you?” “Hah! You must’ve bitten into a red chili pepper!”

They teased him with such remarks, but strangely enough, Li Kui—usually so quick to anger—did not get angry at all. Not only that, but at that evening’s gathering in the Assembly Hall, he drank nothing, laughed not, nor became drunk—doing nothing but sniffle and sob.

“What’s wrong, Li Kui?” “Li Kui?” When Song Jiang approached and asked, it was likely because the one who had asked was none other than Song Jiang himself. He began bawling uncontrollably and then exclaimed as if howling. “I-I’m a human too! I wasn’t hatched from a tree stump!” “Even if I look like this, back in my hometown, I’ve got an old mother.” “I’m jealous of Yiqing!” “I’m jealous of you, Master. I mean… I want to bring my own mother here to Liangshan too—let her have an easy time of it, even a little.” “Just thinking about that... I couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop...”

“So you want to return to your hometown and bring your mother here?” “Master, you’ve got to make this happen! I’m beggin’ you… p-please, grant me this!” “Well…?” Song Jiang was perplexed. Though he couldn’t suppress his sympathy, every face surrounding them brimmed with disapproval. They exchanged glances while shaking their heads.

That was not unreasonable. After all, the name of Black Whirlwind Li Kui—the renown of his ferocious valor—resounded throughout the jianghu. Especially since this followed the "Jiangzhou Great Disturbance Incident," the authorities had undoubtedly extended their reach even to his hometown. Under such circumstances, anyone would naturally feel apprehensive about sending a man like him there. But this was Li Kui—once he set his mind to something, there was no stopping him. It was as if Song Jiang had erred merely by asking. Li Kui smeared ink-black tears across his face and finally rounded on Song Jiang.

“Ain’t it allowed, Master? Ain’t I a human child? You madman! Even though Master’s parents and brother are all together here! Why’s it only me…?” “There, there,” said Song Jiang, patting his back. “Don’t weep so, Li Kui. That sentiment—even I find it moving… But the Commander and Strategist all show reluctance out of fear for worst-case scenarios… If you swear to strictly keep the three conditions I’ve set, I’ll plead on your behalf to everyone.”

“Wh-what kinda conditions’re these?” “The three conditions are—”

“First: You must not drink a single drop of alcohol during the journey.” “Fine! I’ll quit!” “I’ll quit!” “Second: Since you alone are liable to do something unpredictable, we’ll have a single shadow operative secretly follow you.”

“That also makes sense. And the third is—” “Your signature weapon—those two axes of yours—must be left in Strategist Wu Yong’s custody until the day of your return to the marsh.” The entire group who had been listening laughed heartily. They likely thought he would never part with those. To Li Kui, they were like a child he wanted to hug while sleeping—or so everyone assumed—yet he agreed to this condition too. With Song Jiang’s mediation now in play, they could only approve his request collectively.

Due to these circumstances, Li Kui also eventually bid a temporary farewell to his friends at the stronghold and set out on his journey to his hometown of Yishui County in Yizhou, carrying only a single long sword and traveling light.

Now, immediately after that,

"The question arose: 'Who should we send to secretly follow him for his safety?'"

Du Xuan said, “For this task, there’s no better choice than Brother Zhu Gui—he runs the lookout tavern on the opposite shore here.” “Zhu Gui was born in Yishui County too and comes from the same village as Li Kui.” “Indeed,” Song Jiang nodded. “Right—I recall hearing such an account before at White Dragon Temple on the Xunyang River. Can someone dispatch a fast boat to summon Zhu Gui?”

Zhu Gui arrived immediately. Without a word of refusal to the mission he had been ordered, Zhu Gui accepted it as such—yet still added: "In fact, my younger brother Zhu Fu still runs a tavern outside the west gate of Yishui County, and it isn't all that far from Li Kui's hometown of Baizhang Village." "...So, Li Kui's house?" "Indeed, there certainly was a blind old woman." "She often spun thread on a small wheel in the sunny part of the engawa—that must have been Li Kui's mother." "Taking care of the blind woman was one son—yes, Li Kui's real older brother." "After all, they were terribly poor peasants, so even now there's likely been no change in that."

“I’m counting on you,” Song Jiang urged Zhu Gui with grave emphasis. “I don’t believe he’ll break his vow to me—but with that fellow, there’s no telling what madness he might unleash.” “This lets me glimpse my hometown after so long,” Zhu Gui replied. “I’ll watch Li Kui like a hawk—set your mind at ease.” The mission proved doubly convenient for Zhu Gui, who marched eagerly toward Yishui in Li Kui’s wake.

Afterwards, Liangshan Marsh enjoyed a brief period of peace. The early autumn at the stronghold brought clear waters, beautiful mountains, and delicious wine. Song Jiang would often discuss current affairs with Chao Gai, and on cool nights after trimming the lamp's flame, he would unfurl those three volumes of Heavenly Books beneath his study window and immerse himself in studying them alongside Wu Yong.

Here was Li Kui.

"I'm something else, ain't I? Kept my promise after all. Not a single drop... all the way till now."

The longed-for hometown of Yishui County lay before him. And here was the town's west gate. The crowd gathered at what must have been the usual bulletin board area found everywhere in the county town, and Li Kui nonchalantly joined them. Then someone with a know-it-all expression read aloud.

1. The principal offender of heinous crimes is a person from Yuncheng County. Accomplice Dai Zong, formerly of Jiangzhou, He was the jail custodian.

Likewise, the jailer named Li Kui— A native of Yizhou Yishui County in this jurisdiction... “Wh-what the hell…?” Li Kui snorted.

“Hey, come over here.” A man suddenly yanked his arm and dragged him to the corner of the crossroads.

“Oh?” “Ain’t you Zhu Gui, the Dry Land Crocodile, proprietor of the lookout teahouse at Jinshatan?” “Shh! …Y-you idiot!” “Someone might hear!” “What were you doing standing there gawking with that stupid look on your face?”

“Don’t keep callin’ me an idiot.” “Been years since I’ve been round these parts—every sight and sound’s like an old friend.”

“Tch.” “Don’t be such an idiot.” “That notice lists rewards: ten thousand strings of cash for capturing Song Jiang, five thousand for Dai Zong, three thousand for Li Kui—even the price on your head is posted there!”

“Huh, mine’s the lowest?” “It’s exactly this kinda behavior that made Brother Song Jiang send me to shadow you as your minder.” “Standing around gabbing’s dangerous.” “Get in that shop over there.” “This ain’t funny!” Li Kui recoiled like he’d seen his own death omen.

“That’s a tavern, ain’t it?” “Ugh—this reek’s unbearable.” “It’s torture, Bro!” “Fine! Just get in already!”

Zhu Gui had already gone ahead into the small room at the very back. He ordered food and drink with practiced ease. Then he began sipping slowly by himself. Li Kui took out a sweat cloth and pressed it over his nose and mouth. Before long, the tavern keeper came to greet them. This was none other than Zhu Gui’s younger brother, Zhu Fu. Even for Li Kui, being fellow townsfolk, they quickly grew friendly. Yet what remained impossible to accept was the liquor and cups right before his eyes. “Hey, Bro…” “If it’s just while Bro’s watchin’ me here, a little sip’d be fine, right?” “I’m gettin’ so dizzy I could croak.” “Let me drink!”

Zhu Gui burst out laughing. He had heard about them, but he did not yet truly understand Li Kui’s drinking habits or ferocious valor. And then, inadvertently yielding to sympathy, “Just a little here—only this once.” he handed him the cup.

Clicking his tongue, Li Kui narrowed his eyes. He could no longer restrain himself. Just a little more—before they knew it, they had indulged in conversation and drink until the dead of night. Urged on by Zhu Fu, the proprietor, they finally managed to depart when the waning moon hung faintly over the town’s rooftops during the fifth watch (dawn).

“Are you alright, Li Kui? Can you walk straight? How’s your footing?” “Hmph! This dribble o’ wine ain’t nothin’. Don’t make me laugh. Oops—forgot my hat.” “Look at that. Now don’t touch it. I’ll put it on you.” “Wonder what nasty thing Mother’ll say when I see her... Ah, tomorrow night I’ll sleep with my cheek pressed to Mother’s breast. ...Hah! See ya, Bro.”

“Hey, Li Kui.” “That ain’t the way!” “That path’s quicker but goes through mountain backroads.” “Take the main highway! Stick to the main highway!”

“No way!” “Don’t you know? Since I was a kid, this place has been famous for tigers. Lately they say highwaymen’ve been prowlin’ too.” “Well ain’t that a hoot! Hell, even hometown monsters feel nostalgic. Bro! I’ll be back day after tomorrow carryin’ Mother on my back to this here inn. Count on it.”

“Oh... “He’s gone and done it…” The astonished faces of Zhu Gui and Zhu Fu went unnoticed by Li Kui, who was under the influence of alcohol. Swaying unsteadily but persistently, by early dawn he had made his way deep into the fog-shrouded mountain path. Pip-pip-pip—a bird’s shrill cries echoed through the dense forest. The early autumn trees had already begun to turn crimson, and from them suddenly leaped forth a lone figure that appeared to be either a spirit of the scarlet leaves or an ogre. He wore a red horned headscarf and a shabby leather cuirass, with straw sandals on his bare feet.

“Well, well, what’s this? Some kinda freak show?...”

Li Kui was still drunk. Though his drunken eyes swam blearily, they hadn’t yet lost their ability to discern faces. Barring the path stood a hulking man with ink-smeared features, twin battle-axes gripped in his hands.

“Mornin’.” “Who’re you?” “You are?”

“Hey! Don’t you know? Don’t you know who I am?” “Don’t talk nonsense. How the hell should I know? With your face smeared with soot and that red hat getup—hah! You look like one of those clown performers from the Baizhang Village festival.” “Bastard, you’re drunk. Leave everything you’ve got. Take a look at this and you’ll get it.” “Well, well, you’ve come with two battle-axes in both hands. You’ve got some impressive gear there. And your name is?” “Don’t you know Tetsugyu of Baizhang Village? The now-renowned Black Whirlwind Li Kui—that’s me!”

“Huh. You’re the one?”

“Oh yeah? Anyone who hears that name would piss themselves—so what’re you, stupid or just some clueless outsider?” “Just who am I? I’ve gone and gotten myself all confused. Care to take a guess, Fake Tetsugyu—no, rather, Fake Li Kui?” “What did you say? Fake Li Kui?” “Come on, take a good look at this mug. My home’s also Baizhang Village, my nickname’s Tetsugyu, and my other name is Black Whirlwind Li Kui.” “Yikes!” “Amusing. Which one of us is the real deal? Let’s settle this with a wager. Let’s make it a life-or-death wager!”

“S-sorry… It’s… it’s my fault, Master.”

The highwayman plopped down into the dew. And gazing up at Li Kui, who was doubled over with unceasing laughter, he clasped his crude hands together like a rice-pest locust.

An eerie aura—the woman with the grass hairpin. A strange wind swallowed the blind mother’s vanishing form. “Bastard—you dare impersonate my name and rob people in my hometown!” “Pay up—the price for using my name—to the real article here!” As he spoke, Li Kui grabbed one of the man’s twin axes and poised to strike down that scrawny neck.

The man wailed and pleaded desperately for his life. While crying, he explained that he had an elderly mother who was ninety this year, and that it had been a moment of weakness to provide for her. "Even though I lacked the strength or courage to be a proper highwayman," he said, "just by threatening people with 'Black Whirlwind Li Kui,' they’d drop their money and belongings and flee—so half out of amusement, I ended up using your esteemed name to keep my mother and myself alive—" He prostrated himself like a flattened spider as he apologized profusely.

“Hmm… So you’ve got a mother.”

Li Kui flinched. He had finally atoned for years of unfilial conduct and, having secured leave from his Liangshan Marsh comrades to retrieve his mother from their hometown, was now returning to this place of origin. Upon reconsideration—that very renown which made impostors like this inevitable—it seemed even this fellow had been tolerated as something of a colorful rogue. At length, he flung ten taels of silver at the man's face,

“Hey, I’m giving you this, so scram quick.” “Take up honest work and do right by your mother.” “If I catch you up to no good again, you won’t have a life.”

“Huh? This...” “Great lord, I’ll never forget this kindness in my lifetime!” “Quit the flattery.” “I ain’t no ‘great lord’ type.” “But let’s get your name straight.” “What’re you called?” “Li Gui’s the name.” “Yes.” “That true?” “Even your damn surname matches mine.” “Well, if we’re from the same village, guess that’s how it goes.” The afternoon trail still wound through mountains. Li Kui had worn himself out walking July’s mountain paths. The liquor’s warmth had faded, leaving his throat parched. Come to think of it, at Zhu Fu’s inn last night, he’d only drunk—never touched a bite of rice.

“Well, well—a classy dame’s here!”

It was a solitary house in the mountains, but a tavern sign stood there. The woman, her hair in a casually tied-up style with a wildflower tucked into it, curved her crimson lips into a smile when she saw Li Kui. “Miss, got any wine?” “I’m afraid not.” “You’re being real cold. Then cook me some rice. You’ve got something to go with it, right?” “Customer, would you mind waiting?”

“Alright. I’ll take a nap and cool down.” Carrying a bench to the side of the hut, Li Kui had dozed off enveloped by cicada drones. Had a squirrel or something in the treetops not dropped a walnut onto his face at that moment, there’s no telling what might have become of his life. For some reason, he suddenly rose to relieve himself. That was how he noticed— Right behind the kitchen door, a man and woman were whispering conspiratorially. While the woman was indeed the one with the grass hairpin from earlier, it was the man who startled him. This was unmistakably that same Li Gui he’d released at the mountain pass that morning.

“Oh… I see! My, that was close!” With that, the woman’s wildcat-like eyes darted about, and with exaggerated emphasis, she swallowed back her next words for a moment.

“So, the real Li Kui has come back, huh? That Black Whirlwind of yours—” “Damn right—scared me half to death! But when I spun that sob story about a fake mother and put on my best pitiful act, that idiot actually handed me ten taels! Ha ha ha!” “Shh… That’s him alright—the one napping outside after demanding I cook rice. Keep your voice down.”

“Huh?! He’s here?!” “That’s a disaster!” “Wh-what do I do?!” “What’s with you? For a man, this is actually perfect, isn’t it?” “If we slip a numbing drug into the side dish and put him to sleep, even Black Whirlwind—” “Ah, I see. “He still seems to have a hefty sum on him.” “If we combine that with everything we can strip off him, it’ll be enough capital for the two of us to start a small business in the village.” “Perfect! Maybe this here’s our lucky break after all!”

Li Kui, who had been listening from the shadows all along, could no longer endure letting them continue even a moment longer, and finally leaped out from there roaring like this.

“Hey! What’s so damn grateful about that?!” “What’s there to be so damn thankful for?!” “Gah!”

The woman fled tumbling down the cliff and disappeared beyond the mountain stream’s edge even before the birds could take flight, yet Li Kui seemed resigned—though to say this meant little when his bloodied sword dripped fresh drops and Li Gui’s severed head lay five feet from its body, rolling in the dirt. “Quit your damn games!” Li Kui had become a towering demonic presence. He stormed into the house, overturned two woven trunks, crammed anything valuable into his robe, then wolfed down the entire pot of freshly cooked rice before sauntering away. As that blood-soaked figure meandered down the western slopes, faint lights already blurred hazily through the misty twilight over his impoverished birthplace—Baizhang Village—scattered like distant fireflies.

“Ah, just as it was in the old days.” “Poverty’s just the same as ever.”

Li Kui stood before the house he was born in. The red clay mud hut, the crumbling stone fence, the spindly pine tree towering over the roof—not a single thing had changed.

“...Ma.” His voice roused the suspicion of the old mother who sat spinning thread with undivided attention at her spinning wheel in a corner of the dirt-floored room. The old mother was completely blind. So she remained unaware that night had fallen, requiring no lamp at her hands working the bamboo sieve and spinning wheel.

“Ma.” “Where are you, Ma... Ma?” “Oh... Is someone there?” “It’s me.” “Th-that voice…” “It’s Li Kui!” "Tieniu has come back now, I tell you!" “Gah! My... my son?!” “Whoa, that was close!”

In a panic, Li Kui caught her. The tiny old mother’s body was already clinging to his, trembling violently. “I... well, all these years... all these years... where in the world have you been?” “Goodness—I couldn’t even tell whether you were alive or dead all these years…”

“W-well... Ma, calm down. I’m really sorry. Please forgive me. But this time, I thought I’d finally make sure you could live in peace—that’s why I came all this way to get you.” “Oh? All this way... to take me? ...Where in the world is that?” “It’s called Liangshan Marsh. No—wait, I mean... To Shandong, where that Liangshan Marsh is. Actually, this time I’m going there as an official, I tell you!”

“Is that true?” “It’s true, I tell you! So Ma, this time I’ll finally stay by your side and let you live in peace for the rest of your life. Come on—climb onto my back. Once we reach the main road somewhere, I’ll buy a cart to put you on and push it myself all the way there.” “Oh my—must we leave so hastily? But wouldn’t it be better to wait until your brother returns and have a proper discussion?” “Brother?... Well, I’ll send him a letter along the way—that’ll do. Anyway, I’m in a hurry.”

At that very moment, his elder brother Li Da returned from outside. Li Da, unlike Li Kui, was honest to the core. For ten years now, his brother had been out of contact, but not only had the Jiangzhou Magistrate’s Office circulated a “wanted” notice to this registered domicile—he had also long since heard and known of the rumors that his brother had recently joined the ranks of Liangshan Marsh.

“What the—? So the bastard came back to take Mother, huh? That’s out of the question! Why would a gangster like you have such noble intentions?” “Well now, Brother—you keep barking ‘gangster’ this and ‘gangster’ that without hearing me out, but I’m a human child too. I do think of my parents too, you know.” “No way, no way! Since you were a brat making Ma cry all the time, you expect me to believe you’ve suddenly turned into some filial saint?” “If you think it’s a lie, Brother, why don’t you just come along to Liangshan Marsh and live in the mountains with me and Ma?”

“You villain! You think you’ll drag even me into your den of scoundrels? Mark this—if we don’t report a wanted man like you, the whole village’ll face charges soon enough! Brother or not, I won’t stand for it! Mother—don’t you let Li Kui slip away!”

No sooner had he spoken than elder brother Li Da ran out of the house. He went to inform the landlord’s estate where he was usually employed, gathered a large number of young men from the village, and returned once more to his home.

However, neither the figure of his old mother nor any trace of Li Kui could be seen in the house. And fifty taels of silver had been placed on the Buddhist altar, as if in apology. Even Li Da was moved by this; it seemed his brother had truly come to regret his past misdeeds. Given this, there was likely no need to worry about entrusting his old mother to him. —Seemingly having reconsidered, “Everyone—though you’ve kindly come to assist, my good-for-nothing brother has already taken flight, as you can see. He’s no longer here.” “After all, he’s as swift as they come—he must’ve fled to another prefecture by now.” “It’s infuriating, but for tonight, please withdraw for now.”

Li Da apologized to the group, and having no alternative, they eventually trudged home in a straggling line. Indeed, on the other side of events, Li Kui bounded forward with such savage leaps he might have been some winged beast of prey. With his elderly mother strapped to his back, he tore through the cobalt-starred night, reaching Yi Ridge’s summit—the mountainous border with the neighboring prefecture—in mere moments. “My boy… My boy…” “What’s wrong? Ma.” “It’s… painful.” “Don’t run so fast anymore.” “Oh, my bad, Ma.” “Even I’m beat.” “But once we cross that mountain ridge, there’ll be houses.” “When we reach the village, I’ll stuff you full of good rice and broth.”

“I want water… My boy, my throat’s burning dry.” “Rather than food, give me water… Water now.” “Water?”

He too felt a thirst burning like fire. Quickly setting his elderly mother down on a large flat bluish stone, he said: “Ma, I’m goin’ down to the valley to get water in the bamboo tube. Don’t crawl one step from here.” “Leavin’ you alone here when you can’t see—it worries me, Ma—but you’ll stay put, yeah?”

“Ah, very well… Li Kui, let this old woman hold your hand awhile.” “What’s with the formality?” “How did my boy grow into such a tenderhearted man? This makes me so glad…” “Enough of that, Ma. No one’s around to see, but who ever heard of bowing over the hand of a worthless son? Tears bring ill fortune… Just stay put here and wait.” Guided by starlight, he descended toward the mountain stream’s murmur. The valley floor lay strewn with boulders like tectonic fractures, the roaring rapids’ fury making summer’s heat vanish in an instant.

Grabbing onto a rock and flipping himself upside down, he first gulped down the valley water to his heart’s content. “Ah, tastes so good! Like ice.”

Then he filled his bamboo tube at the waist. Clutching vines and clinging to rocks on the cliff face, he climbed step by arduous step back to where the bluish stone had been—only to find: What was this? His elderly mother's tattered shoes and staff lay there, but her form was nowhere to be seen. Though he called until his voice broke and shouted until his throat burned, only echoes replied—no answer came from his mother.

“Wh—what? Wh—what’s this? Blood spilled here?” “Blood...spilled?” Li Kui bristled. He was on the verge of tears. “Ma… …Ma!” Following the trail of blood, he turned around and around, pacing the ground. His bloodshot eyes wandered endlessly. As he continued, there was a large cave. It lay sheltered beneath a plateau overlooking grassland. When he looked, two tiger cubs were gnawing on a human leg— like cats with catnip, playfully licking and nibbling as they frolicked. Li Kui blazed with rage. Damn them! Damn them! They’ve gone and devoured my mother like that! —— In one leap, he struck down one cub beneath his greatsword, then chased the other deep into the cave and stabbed it through. Yet even this did nothing to quell his hatred. He wailed, still calling for his mother through choked sobs as he thrashed about.

——At that moment, outside the cave, there came a strange growling sound.

It was the mother tiger of the cubs, who had returned with mirror-like eyes honed by the strange disturbance within her den.

“Hmph! This mother tiger was the first to sink her claws into my ma and make her prey.”

As Li Kui held his breath, the tigress soon began cautiously sweeping the cave wall once with her tail before gradually crawling backward into the depths. Drawing his dagger, he had already taken aim; in an instant, his flash of steel thrust into the great tiger’s anus with a thud, sinking to the hilt. In an instant, with a thunderous UOOOOH! roar, the massive tigress—still bearing the dagger buried in her entrails—tumbled out, rolled across the grassland, and crashed into the distant woods. Determined not to let it escape, Li Kui gave chase, and the entire forest seemed to quake with his pursuit. Just then,

“Ah! A different tiger.” “Another one came out!”

Li Kui arched his back. This time, it seemed even he had no choice but to brace himself firmly. In a gust of wind, baring its fangs, there emerged a massive male tiger with a white forehead. Just as Li Kui raged at having his elderly mother devoured, this male tiger too seethed with fury at human cruelty. With a roar that shook the earth—as if voicing bitter resentment—it split open its crimson maw and challenged him to a reckoning.

“Damn!”

With a single slash, he struck somewhere on the tiger, but its tail sent Li Kui’s body flying far away. The tiger, baring its belly, immediately leaped toward him. Mountains roared and valleys bellowed; black winds, flying leaves, and whirlwinds swirled together—in an instant, nothing at all remained visible to the eye.

After some time, Li Kui came to his senses. The male tiger lay collapsed beside him, now crimson. He thought parts of his body had been bitten and torn, yet found he could stand. In fact, when he tried walking, he discovered he could still move. Still—with every joint aching, fatigue like cotton stuffing his limbs, and his greatsword as a staff—from that moment onward, he walked no differently than a wandering specter. Though he retained no memory of how or where he had trudged, as night faded into dawn's pale light,

“Huh?!”

“Traveler! What’s happened to you? That state you’re in—” “And where did you come from?” Startled by a group of four or five hunters, he himself also snapped back to his senses. “O… “Is this the trail leading down from the mountain?” “Folks of this land—last night up on Yi Ridge, my dear mother who I’d brought with me got devoured by tigers.” “What?! You came over Yi Ridge?!” “In that case, it’s a wonder you weren’t torn to pieces!” “When it comes to the tigers of Yi Ridge, they’re enough to silence even a crying child, I tell you!”

“I bashed to death two grown ones—a male and a female—and two cubs, then came down here.” “I avenged my dear mother’s death.” “Hey now, if you’re gonna stay quiet and listen, go on and blow your horn all you want—we’ve had enough of your tall tales.” “Even Li Cunxiao and Zilu of old only became famous for killing a single great tiger each in their whole lifetimes!” “Why four tigers…?” “Hahahaha!” “This traveler seems out of his mind.” “He’s a madman!” “Do as you damn well please!” “If you think I’m lying, then go take a good look around the woods and caves east of the Temple of Sisheng Daxian up on the ridge before you start flapping your jaws!”

Li Kui was furious. He was growing irritable. Having lost his elderly mother, his entire body drenched in the fresh blood of tigers, he found himself caught in a strange limbo between exhaustion and hunger. Caring about anything had become utterly foolish; staggering onward, he still continued descending the mountain path.

However, it was around the time he caught sight of the village at the foot that the earlier hunters—now joined by several villagers—formed a group,

“Hey! Traveler! Traveler!”

They chased after him and instantly hemmed him in deferentially from front and back, refusing under any circumstances to let him go. Not only that—soon thereafter, about thirty villagers bound the four tigers Li Kui had slain with ropes and hoisted them on shoulder poles like a sacred palanquin, “Oh my, this is huge! This is huge! “The hero who single-handedly subdued four tigers of Yi Ridge—just like this—is passing through our village!” “Make sure to inform Cao Dan’na’s estate immediately!”

they proclaimed as they passed through. Cao Dan'na of the village was a minor local magnate infamous for being notoriously cruel and miserly, but upon hearing this, he personally opened his gate and— “Hero! “Please, do take a rest.” —and invited him into his home, but upon hearing from Li Kui about the night’s events, he was utterly astonished. Even the usually stingy and cruel Magnate Cao, now convinced this must be someone truly extraordinary, had food and wine laid out in the garden, where his entire household entertained everyone from Li Kui down to the hunters.

“By the way, sir—might I inquire your esteemed name?” “Me? Well... “I ain’t some hero or sir that folks go callin’ me... Hmm... but I do got a name.” “Family name’s Zhang, given name’s Dagan.” “Ah, so you go by Zhang Dagan?” “Truly, the name embodies the man.” Even amidst this commotion, outside Cao’s estate had gathered a black mountain of people. Villagers of all ages—old and young, men and women—who had rushed to see the tigers pressed past the household’s futile attempts to stop them, crowding all the way to the inner gate’s wall. “There! There! Two grown tigers from Yi Ridge—and two cubs!” “Two large tigers from Yi Ridge—and two cubs!” “That’s mighty impressive!” “But what’s truly impressive is the man who took down four tigers single-handed!” “Where might that esteemed gentleman be?” “That must be him over there— “Look! He’s drinking wine right beside Cao Dan’na!” “That dark-skinned hero there’s the one!”—until the uproar surpassed even festival revelry.

And among them was that very mistress of Li Gui who wore a grass hairpin. Just yesterday she had seen that very face at the mountain tavern; not only had her lover been killed, but even the belongings at the bottom of her luggage had been stolen—her resentment ran deep. Since this figure was Li Kui, “That’s him!” The moment she caught sight of him, she immediately ran to inform the village head. The one who was shocked was the village head—for if Black Whirlwind of Liangshan Marsh, the arch-rebel who had ravaged Jiangzhou with a three-thousand-guan bounty on his head and for whom warrants had long been circulated, had appeared in the village, this could not be left unattended for even a moment.

He immediately sent a messenger to summon Cao Dan'na and whispered the details into his ear, at which Cao Dan'na was also astonished, “Huh? Then that was the wanted Black Whirlwind?” “This is a disaster.” “If he were to start rampaging, it would be catastrophic.”

He trembled violently, but if he turned him over to the authorities, he could claim the three thousand guan bounty. Even if he had to split it with the village head, this was still a massive windfall—and this cruel Dan’na was instantly consumed by the flames of greed. As the saying goes, “Even a mustard seed can pass through the eye of a needle.” Unwittingly, through the eyes of the grass-hairpin woman, the matter grew increasingly grave.

At Yishui County’s government office that day, an extraordinary stir abruptly arose upon receiving the village head’s secret report. The governor immediately summoned Li Yun, the chief constable, and assigned him thirty robust soldiers. “The culprit fought four tigers and is said to be utterly exhausted—but make no mistake, this is none other than the notorious Black Whirlwind.” “Do not grow complacent just because you have numbers.” With that, he ordered an urgent dispatch to the village at Yi Ridge’s foothills. “What’s there to fret about?” “When none other than this Green-Eyed Tiger himself comes calling—”

With that, Li Yun mounted his horse, took the lead, and hurriedly pressed on through a shortcut across Yi Ridge.—This Li Yun, known as the Green-Eyed Tiger, was a young Westerner with azure eyes and a Roman nose, true to his epithet. Consequently, his beard was red, his limbs were long, and he was a man renowned in Yizhou as a master of Western-style swordsmanship. The man who slew tigers was to become the tiger. As well as the loss of eight government horses. By now, Li Kui had completely forgotten his promise with Song Jiang. When he had left Liangshan Marsh, he had vowed so resolutely not to touch a single drop of alcohol or hold a cup along the way—yet whether it was an affliction or his inherent simplicity, the moment he saw wine, he could no longer control himself.

Moreover, since Cao Dan'na had a scheme in mind, even after that incident, his entire household continued their enthusiastic hospitality with cries of "Hero! Hero!" His tiger-bloodied clothes were changed, and they moved to the Cao family's guesthouse where fresh lamps were lit and drinking resumed from nightfall—so much so that none could tell how many wine jars had been emptied.

“Hero, please stay for as many days as you like. In time, I shall have the tiger skins prepared and present them to you as a gift. Moreover, I believe the county office will surely bestow a reward for eliminating that menace from the roads.”

Flattery taken too far becomes something else entirely. When the words "county office" slipped from Cao Dan'na’s lips, even Li Kui—thoroughly drunk as he was—flinched. “Wh-what business...? The county office.” “The county office.” “I don’t need no reward from that shithole!” “I’ll give them tiger skins to any beggar who wants ’em.” “Hell, make yourself a fancy loincloth if it pleases ya!”

“I humbly thank you,” said Cao Dan’na. “Well, you must be quite weary tonight. Let us first escort you to your quarters.” “Wh-which way?” Li Kui slurred. …Where in blazes is my room? “Damn place’s sprawlin’ like a damned maze,” he grumbled. “At once,” an attendant replied. “Allow me to guide you. Now now—what’s this wandering about? Won’t you take my hand, Hero? Oh, careful there… Do mind your footing carefully.”

Cao Dan'na himself had busily tended to Li Kui all the way to the corner of the central corridor, but beyond that point left the inner areas to his servants and merely stood watching. As this continued, Li Kui's figure—surrounded by a crowd of shadowy figures—tumbled into a room. Or rather, was pushed inside. And the moment that door was swiftly shut from the outside—Thud! A strange sound echoed, followed by creak... creak... thud... as an eerie vibration momentarily shook the entire house from beneath the floor.

“Yes!” “It worked!”

Cao Dan'na returned to his own room, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his face.

There, from early evening, the village headman and Li Gui’s mistress had been waiting together to see how matters would unfold. Before long, there was a sense that Chief Constable Li Yun’s men had arrived noisily and in great numbers at the gate. The three promptly aligned their efforts and went out to welcome Li Yun,

“We most humbly thank you for your efforts,” they said. “Regarding the wanted fugitive Black Whirlwind we reported—after making him drink copious amounts of wine, leading him to his quarters, and dropping him into the collapsing-floor trap we had prepared in one room—we now earnestly beseech Your Honor to have the authorities apprehend him.”

they proposed. “Where is it? The room?” With that, Li Yun took the lead, proceeded deeper inside, commanded his soldiers to shout into the pit beneath the floor, and had them tightly bind the still-not-fully-sober Black Whirlwind Li Kui hand and foot. And after a great commotion akin to subduing a live tiger, they finally dragged him outside. By now, the night was already growing light, and the entire village was once again in an uproar surpassing yesterday’s. Amidst this, Li Yun’s arrest team triumphantly escorted the bound Li Kui, the witness Cao Dan’na, the village headman, the woman with the grass hairpin, and others, heading back to the county town beyond Yi Ridge.

Meanwhile, given that this was a small rural town, the rumor spread like wildfire among the general populace. Especially, there was no way this didn’t reach Zhu Fu’s tavern, which thrived outside the West Gate. Zhu Fu, who had already learned of this matter from customers the previous night, consulted his brother Zhu Gui—hiding in the back—and muttered with a face drained of color: “What should we do?” “Little brother,” Zhu Gui began without words of comfort, “I’ve landed you in one hell of a mess...”

“Given how things have turned out, it’s a pity,” Zhu Fu said, “but we’ll have to close this shop, take our wives and children along, and have you go live at Liangshan Marsh—there’s no other choice. After all, it’s certain that a warrant from the Jiangzhou Magistrate Office will arrive here soon as well.” “Brother,” Zhu Gui replied, “I’m prepared for that, but from your position as my brother, if we just stand by and watch Li Kui get captured, you won’t be able to return to Liangshan Marsh as things are, will you?” “Well,” Zhu Fu muttered, his voice heavy. “So now I’m completely at a loss about what to do. This is one hell of a mess.” He slammed his palm on the table. “It’s too late to say it now, but over and over—letting that liquor-loving black brute out of my sight for even a single night was my blunder.”

“Brother, how about this approach?” “Whether we close shop or sell the land—it’s all six of one and half a dozen of the other.” “It’s a crude plan, but we’ve no choice.” “What do you mean?” “Fortunately, Chief Constable Li Yun’s not just a regular patron—he’s my swordsmanship teacher too.” “Deceiving him pains me, but this ‘Green-Eyed Tiger’ Li Yun’s ill-regarded by officialdom himself—seethes with discontent toward the Song Dynasty’s rot.”

“Hmm, that plan does seem rather advantageous.” “Therefore, even if we temporarily frame Chief Constable Li Yun, he might actually end up being grateful later.” “So once we’ve steeled our resolve and put this scheme into motion—if it works out smoothly—we’ll have our victory secured.” Zhu Fu was a tavern keeper whose daily interactions with patrons had given him keen insight into human nature and societal workings—a shrewdness born from his trade. Though the exact details of the desperate strategy he had whispered to Zhu Gui would only become clear later, preparations for their midnight escape had already begun unnoticed that very night after closing shop.

Namely, directing the shop’s young workers, Zhu Fu had his wife and children board a box wagon, loaded all household belongings and personal effects onto that wagon and hand carts, and sent them off to the forest crossroads at the edge of town before the night dawned.

And so, when the next day arrived, the tavern once again opened for business as usual, swept its entrance clean, and amidst the bustle outside the West Gate, waited composedly under the bright afternoon sun, its unassuming charm fully on display. The neighbors had been somewhat aware of the strange noises at dawn, but no one had realized it was a relocation to Liangshan Marsh.

“Black Whirlwind’s been captured!” “You’re lying! Must’ve mixed up with Yi Ridge’s tigers!”

“No way! After slayin’ four tigers, he went and turned into one himself! That miserly landlord Cao ratted him out, and they just dragged ’im off to the county office!” The town sweltered under July’s brutal heat. All day long, the parched streets buzzed with such gossip. Yet come early dusk, Li Kui and his witnesses were paraded once more through the county gate onto the main road. Some hasty souls speculated he’d be executed right then, but no—they meant to ship him off to Jiangzhou Prefecture instead, transferring him to a lone prison boat moored at the riverbank.

“Hey, hey. Master Li Yun.”

It was just at the moment when the head of the procession reached the crossroads outside West Gate. The tavern proprietor Zhu Fu dashed out and bowed before Li Yun’s horse.

“You must be exhausted laboring in this dreadful heat.” “Not only were the tigers plaguing Yi Ridge’s travelers exterminated, but you’ve captured the wanted Black Whirlwind too. For our townsfolk, there could be no greater blessing.” “We could practically hold a festival in celebration!” “Please—though it’s but a humble shop—do come have a cup of chilled wine and rest awhile.”

“Ah, Zhu Fu, your thoughtfulness is appreciated, but unless I finish transferring this notorious villain to the prison boat before dark, I won’t be able to lift this burden from my shoulders.” “Now, please don’t say such things. We’ve specially chilled these wine bottles since morning on behalf of the townspeople for celebration—already uncorked and awaiting you.” “I appreciate the gesture, but given my official duties, your kindness proves inconvenient now. I’ll stop by on my return. Keep moving!”

Li Yun turned to face the procession, but the mean-spirited soldiers and prison guards, intoxicated by the scent of alcohol, wouldn’t budge even with a lever. Not only that—perhaps incited by the shop’s young workers—there was even a group that had broken from the procession, hidden themselves in the shadows, and scrambled for wine bowls in their haste. Tch… What a bunch of hopeless bastards. Li Yun finally dismounted from his horse. If we were to pass by like this, it would be unfair to some of the soldiers. Resentment over provisions often takes deep root, with no shortage of cases where such grudges fester against superiors for years to come. For that reason, Li Yun too had no choice but to drink along with them.

“How about another cup, Master?” Zhu Fu himself was pouring drinks into his cup—for the dozens of other soldiers, there was no need for such attentive service. They formed a dark swarm, like flies clinging to honey. Their frenzy to grab even one extra cup nearly sparked brawls among comrades. Then, during this commotion, Li Kui—still bound to the roadside locust tree—let out a sorrowful cry.

“Hey, captor! I’m begging you, let me have a drink too. Since I’m stuck here like this, pour one down my throat.” Those words had been directed at Zhu Fu. Though Zhu Gui was nowhere to be seen, Li Kui reasoned that since Zhu Fu was present, there must be some plan to rescue him—thus he implicitly shouted this rhetorical plea. “Don’t screw around, you heinous villain! If you want a drink, I’ll let you have some ditch water later. Now shut up!”

Zhu Fu deliberately hurled abuse. When they heard this, the soldiers roared with laughter and resumed drinking, using the stream of curses as their accompaniment. Even though Li Yun ordered them to return to the procession, they remained reluctant to leave the vicinity of the wine bottles. As this continued, one soldier screamed “You bastard!” from beneath a roadside tree’s shade. No—he collapsed instantly. The eyes of the entire crowd that had turned around all let out a collective “—Huh?” before an eerie silence flooded over everything. For—a man had approached Li Kui, untied his bonds, and placed a greatsword into his hand. This was akin to opening a fierce tiger’s cage. Moreover, this tiger now wielding a drawn greatsword began lumbering step by lumbering step toward them alongside the man.

“Zhu Fu. Shall we go?”

The man who had untied Li Kui's bonds was Zhu Gui. Zhu Fu, the younger brother, snorted derisively while sneering at every face around him and glancing sideways, "Alright, let's get going. —But wait, Li Kui."

“Huh? What is it?” “How ’bout it? There’s still wine left in these bottles. Wanna knock one back before we go?” “Hell no! Even I ain’t touchin’ that poison brew!”

So the poison had already taken effect. Inside and outside the tavern, soldiers lay scattered across the ground—some slumped in sitting positions, others sprawled on their sides, while a few foamed at the mouth and feebly thrashed their limbs like sea cucumbers. “Tch… Damn it.” “…They planned this.” “Oh… I’ve been had?” The only one still shouting these words—rising, stumbling, desperately trying to pursue—was Head Constable Li Yun himself.

However, already in the dimming twilight of the town’s lights, the figures of Li Kui, Zhu Gui, Zhu Fu, and a group of young men had already become distant.

At the fork where the town gave way to open fields stood a grove of dark summer trees casting shade. There since dawn, several handcarts laden with household goods and a box carriage bearing Zhu Fu’s family had waited through the day in anxious anticipation. “All right—it’s safe now,” Zhu Fu declared as he rushed over to the carriage where the women sat. “Our only path now is flight!” While urging them onward,

“Now abandon the handcarts and go! Transfer only the valuables to the box carriage, then lash the horses’ rumps without hesitation! Race toward Shandong from here until the wheels break! We’ll watch for pursuers and follow right behind.” “Understood.” The young men from Zhu Fu’s shop immediately leaped onto the driver’s seats and carriage backs, cracked their whips, and vanished into the distance along the country road in an instant.

...After silently watching them off, Li Kui finally scratched his head and apologized. “Brothers, I’m in the wrong here. Please forgive me.” “I went and caused you all that worry because of my drinking again.” “Just you wait, Li Kui,” Zhu Gui deliberately threatened as discipline. “When we return to Liangshan Marsh, I’ll report everything truthfully—starting with the Commander, Mr. Song Jiang, and Military Strategist Wu Yong.” “I beg you, Brother, forgive me just this once.” “Even though I made such a solemn vow to abstain from alcohol during the journey, my pride as a man lies in ruins.” “Worst case scenario, I might get expelled from Liangshan Marsh.”

“Even though you knew better deep down, why did you go and guzzle that infamous wine from Landlord Cao’s house and get all cocky?”

“Cut it out. It ain’t like I was feelin’ good about it! The truth is, after I went through all that trouble to bring my mother here, she ended up gettin’ devoured by tigers up on Yi Ridge, and in my reckless fury after slaughterin’ those four beasts, I ended up guzzlin’ down a whole lotta wine again. Hmm… And speakin’ of which, the real damnable one is that bastard Cao. Brother, I’ll just turn back for a bit, twist off that bastard’s head, and come right back—so wait here for me.”

“Wait—I’m coming too—” Zhu Fu also turned around and said, “For me, I can’t just abandon Master Li Yun like that." “Actually, I only put a mild paralytic in Master Li Yun’s wine, so by now the drug must have worn off, and he’s probably on his way here.”

“I see. If we clash with Li Kui and cause an incident, it would be disastrous. In that case, I’ll join you,” declared Zhu Gui, and together with the two of them, he immediately turned back and dashed down the original road.

Sure enough, along the way, from the distant darkness there came someone running with godlike speed. That was none other than Green-Eyed Tiger Li Yun.

“You treacherous cur! How dare you pull that earlier—” Li Yun immediately drew his long sword and confronted them, but—

“Wait!” “Master.” “There are profound circumstances behind this.” “First let your anger subside.” Zhu Fu prostrated himself before him in apology. He then meticulously recounted Li Kui’s homecoming—how Zhu Gui had accompanied him under Liangshan Marsh’s orders as his escort—and detailed Li Kui’s fruitless filial devotion along with his bitter resentment over losing his aged mother. “Master, under these circumstances, we must help Li Kui return to Liangshan Marsh here. Otherwise, my brother Zhu Gui will lose all standing.” “For this reason, we even made you—our benefactor—drink that drugged wine, though we put only the slightest amount of narcotic in your cup.” “It was, if I may say, an act against our true intentions.” “I beg you to bear with us this once.”

Li Yun groaned, “Hmm…” “So that’s how it is...” He couldn’t escape the sensation that both his resolve to arrest them and the fury that had filled his face had now abruptly drained from his body.

“This puts me in a bind! If I let you escape, I’ll be branded a traitor like you! I can’t even return to the county seat now.” “You’re absolutely right, Master. But if I may speak boldly—isn’t it fortunate you remain unmarried with neither wife nor children?” “What exactly are you suggesting?” “Why not come with us three to Liangshan Marsh as you are? You’ve often said yourself how you’ve grown weary of this corrupt governance and officialdom. I believe you’d find common cause with Liangshan’s men.”

“But Liangshan Marsh has its renowned leaders like Chao Gai, Wu Yong, and Song Jiang—not to mention all sorts of eccentric characters. Would they readily accept someone like me, Li Yun, into their ranks?” “If you would come,” Zhu Gui added from beside them, “at Liangshan Marsh, we’d all welcome you with open arms. Especially when they learn Zhu Fu has long been your disciple and you’re his sword master.” The negotiations were abruptly settled then, but when they moved to depart, Li Kui’s figure had vanished. “Where’d that fool run off to now?” they muttered—when Li Kui came barreling back like a gale, Cao Dan’na’s severed head in one hand and the grass-hairpin woman’s head clutched by its black tresses in the other.

“The ones who made me suffer are these two bastards.” “I settled the score to ease my rage.” “Counting the tigers of Yi Ridge, that makes six in total.” “Even my mother—devoured by beasts and wandering lost at the six crossroads—she’ll finally rest easy with this.” With a savage grin, he showed the three men the objects in his hands. Then Li Kui threw them into the roadside thicket like discarded straw sandals. And then.

“Alright. There’s nothing left for us in this land.” “Well then—farewell! Let’s hurry!” Each of them turned their heels and began to hurry off, “Wait a moment.”

Li Yun kept scanning their surroundings before whispering something to the others and taking point, plunging into a side path through the thicket. At the path's end stood the prefectural ranch office. Li Yun summoned the ranch hands from their quarters and made them assemble eight splendid steeds. Then—Li Kui, Zhu Gui, Zhu Fu, and himself—the four men each mounted one of the horses.

“This will be my first formal introduction to Liangshan Marsh. Why don’t we lead an extra horse each by the reins alongside the ones we’re riding? What do you say to this gift?” “An unmatched gift indeed—but Master, wouldn’t dragging four extra horses become needless clutter? They’ll hinder us on this urgent journey.” “They won’t be a bother. That covered carriage ahead likely has several of Zhu Fu’s young men accompanying it. We’ll just have them ride the spares right away.”

The ranch hands who had been listening cried out in surprise. “Chief Constable! Aren’t the horses meant to be taken for official use in the county seat?” “Well now, tonight we shall gallop off a thousand miles away. They’ll surely send soldiers from the county seat after us. When they come asking where Li Yun went, tell them that—true to his name—he rode off on a cloud and vanished.” “No way, Chief Constable! Then we can’t hand over these official horses here!”

Circling to the front and spreading their arms wide toward the suddenly clamoring group of ranch hands, Zhu Gui, Zhu Fu, and Li Kui each— “What nonsense are you spouting? Don’t interfere unless you want to be kicked flat!” —brandished their whips and drove them away. How could they possibly obstruct this? There was no one capable of even a moment’s delay.

Across the boundless pastoral plain to the east, the four riders and eight horses were already distant and small, like comets in a starry night. Furthermore, there could be no doubt that the four of them had caught up to the boxed carriage ahead in the blink of an eye that very night. Thus, though not ten thousand leagues away, before long they arrived at the riverside of Liangshan Marsh in Shandong, where for the first time the vibrant summer wind blew upon their travel-weary and sunburned faces, letting them finally breathe easy.

The executioners' procession paraded through the streets. And also,

The beautiful woman born on the Star Festival—Qiaoyun’s tale

Rogues, wanderers, a gathering of those with no home under heaven—even such as these desire some anchor for their hearts.

Unbeknownst to all, deep within Liangshan Marsh’s assembly hall arose a shrine enshrining the stars— Heavenly Stars and Earthly Pacts

A quasi-Taoist altar with an inscribed plaque had been erected. They likened their band of comrades to stars, lining up as many lamps as their number, establishing a custom that each new member welcomed would add another lamp. They gazed upon it, believing the day drew near when the count of stars would soon reach the karmic measure of the Heavenly Stars, Earthly Pacts, and 108 Stars—twinkling upon the earth.

Now, putting that aside.

“Ah, Li Kui! Has Zhu Gui returned safely too?” All members of Liangshan Marsh welcomed the two back with great joy. After giving a full account of their journey’s events, they presented Green-Eyed Tiger Li Yun and Smiling Tiger Zhu Fu—whom they had brought along—to the assembly. “Please extend them your warmest welcome into our united fellowship,” they urged. With that recommendation made—

Of course, this was approved without delay. As Liangshan Marsh now grew into a major force, the determination to gather there more than ever the talented individuals and chivalrous souls across the land who faced adversity and discontent burned fervently among all their comrades. “I see. Smiling Tiger is Zhu Gui’s younger brother.” “Moreover, if Green-Eyed Tiger is indeed a master of Western-style swordsmanship, he will be all the more dependable.” “I hear... In exchange for four tigers being slain by Black Whirlwind (Li Kui) at Yi Ridge in Yishui County, we’ve gained two tigers here instead.”

Here.

The star lamps of the Earthly Pacts Shrine gained two new lights, and as was customary, a grand feast to welcome the new comrades was also held before the shrine.

At that moment during the gathering, Strategist Wu Yong was showing a draft document to Commander Chao Gai and Deputy Commander Song Jiang. To put it simply, this was Liangshan Marsh's "Assignment Edict." With their ranks now swelling with talent and their base having grown into something akin to a small nation-state, they could no longer remain a mere ragtag band of wandering bandits when it came to preparing against government forces. This had long been a pressing concern due to the lack of established order and unstable defenses.

Namely: In addition to Zhu Gui's existing lookout teahouse at the crossing, three more locations were to be established.

The Tong Wei and Tong Meng brothers and their subordinates were assigned to open a shop on the western road, while Li Li was similarly stationed at the southern foot of the mountain. Furthermore, at the northern mountain pass, they had Shi Yong establish a new shop. With lookouts now sufficiently positioned in all four directions of Liangshan Marsh, the next plan was to fortify Wanzicheng’s three walls: the main gate, central gatehouse, and inner gate. The construction of canals and inner moats—along with all engineering supervision—was entrusted to Du Xuan and Tao Zongwang. For the most crucial warehouse management—including handling monetary transactions—Jiang Jing was appointed director. Xiao Rang took charge of official dispatches and documents, while Jin Dajian oversaw engraving duties for military tallies, seals, and permits. Furthermore, Hou Jian was tasked with preparing all military equipment for the soldiers—from flags and armor down to their footwear.

Ma Lin was assigned to oversee the construction of large and small warships. Song Wan took up residence in a fortress at Jinshatan Beach. Wang Aihu and Zheng Tianshou made their way down to Yazu Beach and assumed positions at another fortress outpost. For the role of revenue officer managing funds and provisions, Mu Chun and Zhu Fu were selected, while Lü Fang and Guo Sheng were appointed as guards of the assembly hall. Song Jiang’s younger brother Song Qing was designated banquet manager with additional oversight of the sake storehouse.

“What do you think of this arrangement?” “The remaining naval and land deployments are outlined in a supplementary table.”

Regarding Wu Yong’s proposal, both Chao Gai and Song Jiang had no objections. And it was announced on the spot. Of course, there were also quite a few detailed positions beyond those. Thus Liangshan Marsh assumed its most formidable formation. In the water bases, naval drills; on land, the fervor of cavalry, archery, and spear training—all went without saying. There was scarcely a dawn or dusk when the echoes of war drums and iron flutes did not resound.

However, there was only one person—

“Hmm?” “There’s been no word from him since then, though…”

And so there emerged a comrade who had begun to be viewed with unease.

It was Gongsun Sheng Yiqing, who had set a hundred-day deadline, requested leave, gone to the land of Jizhou to visit his mother, and departed, saying he would also meet his old teacher.

“It’s unthinkable he’d betray us, but his continued absence does unsettle us somewhat.” “Shouldn’t we dispatch someone to make inquiries?”

The very next day after such a discussion had arisen, Dai Zong, the Divine Messenger and Lone Star of the Mobile Forces, was chosen by all, “Brother Dai, with you I’d wager ten days would be more than enough to scour every corner of Jizhou and return. Could you look into this?”

With that, he was dispatched as the exploration envoy.

“Understood.” “I’m on my way!”

Dai Zong immediately set off running. At times like these, the "Divine Movement Technique" truly came into its own—within Liangshan Marsh, none could match this man in the art of swift movement. With the customary armor-horse talismans fastened to his legs and after maintaining strict purification, by the third day he had already crossed into Yishui County’s borders and was racing across a mountain ridge.

Then, on the mountain slope path, there passed by a man with a waist as slender as a woman’s and shoulders like a falcon’s, his sharp eyes angular— “Ah! Divine Movement Technique’s Dai Zong?”

With that, he thrust his tube spear into the ground and turned around. Dai Zong slipped past like the wind, but something suddenly struck him, and he called the man back. “Hey, young one! Wait a moment! How did you know I was Dai Zong?” “Ah! So you are indeed Master Dai Zong!” “In that case—and you are?” “I am Yang Lin from Zhangde Prefecture, nicknamed Golden Leopard... Truth be told, about two months ago I met Master Gongsun Sheng, and he even gave me a letter saying you should come to Liangshan Marsh someday.”

“So you’ve even heard about someone like me?”

“That’s correct. Master Dai Zong, who can run eight hundred *li* in a day, now resides in the mountain stronghold.”

“I’ve met a good man,” said Dai Zong. “The truth is—for certain reasons—I’ve come seeking that Master Gongsun Sheng’s whereabouts. Could you tell me where he resides now?” “Alas,” replied Yang Lin, “after we parted ways at a chance-met roadside tavern, I’ve heard nothing of his movements since. But if it’s within Jizhou’s domain, I know every inch of this land. Should you wish it, I could guide you there.”

“I ask of you. And if you wish, this humble one will take you to Liangshan Marsh.” “If I could have that wish granted, it would be a great fortune. But Master Dai Zong, alas, this one knows neither the Divine Movement Technique nor its incantations.” “Don’t worry. If you follow this humble one like so, naturally both body and mind will lighten, and dashing eight hundred li in a day would be nothing at all.” Dai Zong had him carry a talisman as well, and the moment he exhaled a great breath from his abdomen into the air with a puff, he clasped Yang Lin’s arm and began to dash away. Yang Lin was astonished. Though they didn’t feel as though they were running or panting, the road and vegetation rushed backward like a torrent. A cool breeze sliced past their shoulders; refreshing air struck their faces—it was an utterly irresistible exhilaration.

The mountaintop was bathed in sunlight; it seemed to be raining at the foot of the mountain. And countless mountains and rivers lay shrouded in billowing white clouds. The continent's roads wound endlessly like sheep's intestines through them, but they had not seen any villages or signs of people for two days.

“Master Dai Zong. That is the famous Yinma River.” “Oh, what a magnificent view!”

“Shall we go and inquire?” “Where to?” “Amidst such magnificent scenery live three foremost bandit chiefs of Jizhou—Pei Xuan, Deng Fei, and Meng Kang. In the past I was acquainted with them—each of the three is a man of caliber in his own right—and perhaps we might even hear news of Master Gongsun there.”

“Oh.” “Let’s go check out what sort of mountain stronghold this is.” “If they’re truly Green Forest comrades—fellow bandits—then birds of our feather might well be keeping watch over where their kind come and go.”

However, this expectation ended in vain. Even when they inquired at the bandit stronghold, not a single soul knew Gongsun Sheng’s whereabouts. Thus his location remained unknown. Yet their visit was far from fruitless. From the very beginning, these three bandit chiefs were undoubtedly fated to be counted among the stars of the Earthly Contract Temple. Through this unforeseen celestial design—born from a night’s grand feast atop Yinma River’s mountain stronghold—they shared their ambitions, revealed their true origins, and ultimately swore brotherhood.

First, starting with Deng Fei—whose eyes were as red as blood—they introduced themselves in turn. “To meet the renowned Master Dai Zong—there could be no greater joy.” “I’m a Xiangyang-born ruffian, nicknamed Fire-Eyed Suanni as punishment for having eaten human flesh, and though I fancy myself a master of the flail with weighted chains, compared to those two brothers over there, I’m just a worthless wretch.” “Now, if you would kindly hear my background.”

“Well now, when my junior puts it that way, it’s so flattering I’m at a loss how to follow up.” “But to speak plainly,” “I was born in Zhengding Prefecture—family name Meng, given name Kang, combined as Meng Kang. By trade I’m a shipwright, particularly skilled at building great ships that navigate major rivers... However, after clashing fiercely with the court’s official ship commissioner, I fell in with the Green Forest brotherhood. Due to this fair complexion I was born with, people now call me Meng Kang the Jade Mast.”

“Ah, you’re too kind.” Dai Zong returned the courtesy and turned toward another chief. That person stood out somehow at first glance. In age too, he was the eldest among the three.

Pei Xuan. Also known as the Iron-Faced Clerk. The title Kongmu referred to a clerical position attached to courts. He had served in the judicial department of Jingzhao Prefecture, but because he always heeded the people's voices impartially in legal disputes without the slightest corruption, he was instead ostracized by his superiors—magistrates and corrupt officials—who magnified a minor misstep into a grave crime, branded his face with a golden mark (a tattoo), and exiled him to Shamen Island.—Or rather, while being exiled, Deng Fei, Meng Kang, and their ilk who were here at the time, out of righteous intent, cut down the escort officers and rescued him, carrying him up to their mountain stronghold.

“Ha ha ha ha.” “It’s hardly something to boast about.” Pei Xuan spoke with self-deprecation and did not elaborate further.

Yet that very quality made him all the more familiar. Dai Zong had already heard about this from his companion Yang Lin as well—when given swords, he was a master who wielded two blades with both hands; during his days in the clerk’s office, he had been a straight arrow who loathed corruption—countless were those saved by this man’s handling of public affairs. This is a man of caliber! Dai Zong became deeply impressed and fervently urged him to join Liangshan Marsh. With fervor, he spoke of how Liangshan Marsh—which spanned eight hundred li in circumference with Wanzicheng and Liao'erwa at its center, surrounded by warships and teeming with soldiers and horses—now gathered extraordinary talents from all corners of the realm, and earnestly urged him to join.

Then, Pei Xuan—

“Well, I know all about it. “After all, Liangshan Marsh stands unmatched across all four hundred provinces.” “To speak truthfully, I had long awaited such an opportunity.” “...Though this may sound presumptuous, our stronghold here boasts three hundred soldiers, ten carts of treasure, and ample weapons and horses besides.” “With these as our tribute, I most humbly wish to join your esteemed ranks.” “I earnestly beg your kind mediation in this matter.”

He remained thoroughly humble.

Dai Zong was delighted. And now,

“When they hear this, the assembly of Liangshan Marsh will surely welcome you with open arms—adding flowers to brocade.” “...But as we’re currently journeying to find Master Gongsun, after fulfilling that duty, we’d like to stop here again on our return and bring you all to Shandong together. What say you?”

“Very well.” “We will be waiting here.” “But, just one more day—” Pei Xuan earnestly urged them to stay, and the following day they spent at Duanjin Pavilion’s tower—toasting farewell cups and reaffirming sworn brotherhood while enjoying Yinma River’s vistas. Thus departing, before long Dai Zong and Yang Lin found themselves walking through Jizhou City’s streets. A man approached—a small drum strapped to his chest, a gong hanging from his arm, and a trumpet in hand—single-handedly creating the lively din of a three-man road performance. His clothing left no doubt—he was a prison guard.

Another prison guard held up a large executioner’s blade known as a ghost-head sword. Slightly apart, a different guard walked while holding a long-handled blue silk umbrella over a stately, well-built man. This was none other than Yang Xiong the Executioner—also called Yang Xiong the Ailing Guansuo—the prison officer whispered about throughout the town. His bearing was truly magnificent. Particularly on days like this, after executing villains who had brought the people to tears, the townsfolk—old and young alike—would throw tokens of gratitude toward the executioner during his return: red silks, bouquets, damasks, and other celebratory items. Other prison guards followed behind, gathering these offerings until their arms and shoulders could hold no more.

“Hey! Executioner, wait a moment!” “Who’s calling me?” “You’re the one shouting?” “Zhang Bao of the garrison. “Sheep-Slayer Zhang Bao himself!” “Ah, if it isn’t you.” “That face says you’ve met someone foul.” “While I’m the one keeping Jizhou’s peace, not a soul speaks well of me.” “Think nothing of it. “Today’s executed villains might as well have been caught through your efforts. “…How about some liquor over there?”

“Nah—I don’t need your liquor. How about lending me a hundred strings of cash?” “You must be joking.” “You sneered at me, you bastard! You’re not even a local to begin with—just clung to your cousin who was the former magistrate, and now you’ve smoothly ingratiated yourself with the current one—that’s all you’ve done! Isn’t it only natural for you to show some occasional courtesy to us in the military?” “I would be more than happy to offer my greetings, but alas, the character on my back refuses to listen.”

“The one on your back...?” “...What the hell is this ‘character on your back’?”

“Here it is.” Yang Xiong spun around to show his back. Over his scarlet robe, he wore another layer—a grass-green satin shoulder garment—and on its back, the single character 「劊」 was embroidered in gold thread like a large family crest.

“Well? Did you get a good look at it?”

Still facing backward, Yang Xiong displayed a mocking smile on his sallow, distinctive skin. ―A quick-witted visage born of Henan roots. His eyes, his lips, those long eyebrows that nearly merged with his temples―he bore a countenance that seemed to snarl, "Eat shit!"

“Shut your trap!” Suddenly, Sheep-Slayer Zhang Bao—while locking Yang Xiong in a hawk-like grapple—bellowed toward the crossroads’ shadows. “Now! Finish ’em off while I’ve got him pinned!”

With a thunderous rush came Zhang Bao’s subordinates. Had this been planned from the start? They kicked down the prison guards, struck them senseless, seized all their celebratory tokens, then turned on Yang Xiong alone as he struggled. “Ah… You vile curs!” Dai Zong and Yang Lin—who had stood watching from a crossroads corner—could endure no longer. Their eyes met in swift understanding: should they teach this wicked soldier a lesson?

But just then, a large bundle of firewood landed with a thud at their feet. When they looked, the young firewood seller—who had been standing nearby looking like a lowly laborer—had already plunged into the fight, manipulating the soldiers like puppets and hurling them aside. He then came to Yang Xiong’s aid and kept indiscriminately kicking the lanky Sheep-Slayer’s shins, waist, and anywhere else his feet could strike.

“What a spirited fellow! His attire may be humble, but he’s a remarkable young man!”

Dai Zong deliberately held back and observed the situation. And then, “Injustice! Cruelty! Preying on the weak! The fiery spirit of this town—unyielding to tyranny—has not yet decayed. Ah! Those wicked soldier scoundrels have finally fled in disgrace! Look! Executioner Yang Xiong is now giving chase! The firewood seller’s joined him too!”

Before one knew it, the spectators had scattered, leaving behind only the firewood seller’s bundles of firewood.

“Yang Lin, take that and let’s drink at the tavern over there. That young fellow will surely come back soon to retrieve his merchandise.”

Sure enough, before long, the firewood seller returned.

Inviting him into the tavern, Dai Zong praised his gallantry and probed into his circumstances while secretly— This one also seemed reliable. With that, he had already formed a plan. "I see... So you were born in Jinling (Nanjing) and have traveled through so many regions?" "And even though you lost your livelihood when your uncle—the horse trader—passed away, becoming a firewood seller at your young age is quite a bold choice, isn’t it?"

“Well, I’ve no capital to speak of—just a born dullard through and through. Even my late uncle used to drill it into me—‘In times like these, a fool honest as you’ll never survive!’ That’s why I’m here.” “But they say you’ve been mastering horsemanship and short spears since childhood. Having witnessed your skills firsthand earlier—with such remarkable prowess, you might’ve sought an official post.” “Ah, but there’s the rub—by nature, I’ve always loathed that sort of thing.”

“Why is that?” “The imperial court’s a farce. The government’s a nest of traitors. Even the garrison soldiers around Jizhou—they’re all like that, aren’t they? Damn it—even a nobody like me’s got defiance smoldering in his gut.” “I share your view.” “Absolutely.” “But not every corner of this world’s rotten.” “Take Shandong’s Liangshan Marsh—there’s a band of men there.” “Pardon my asking—your name?” “The companion here’s my sworn brother Yang Lin.” “As for myself... My family name’s Dai, given name Zong.”

“Wait—so you’re Director Dai from Jiangzhou! The legendary Divine Messenger Dai Zong?” “Quiet!”

Dai Zong turned around. At that moment, over twenty people came noisily crowding in from around the corner of the tavern. Moreover, they were all bounty hunters and trackers. He hurriedly took out ten taels of silver and made the firewood seller grasp it.

“Young one, we’ll meet again someday… It’s not much, but it’ll keep you going for now.”

“N-no, that’s out of the question. ...Such a thing!” But there wasn’t even a moment to grab his sleeve. The moment this happened, the tavern became filled with people, and amid the commotion, Dai Zong and Yang Lin slipped out like the wind.

“Oh, Benefactor! Have you come here?”

The one who entered a step late was the former executioner—Yang Xiong, the Pallid Judge.

“That was truly unexpected assistance.” “...I’ve no words adequate to express my thanks.” “Thanks to you, that bastard’s become the town laughingstock—he won’t dare show his face publicly for some time.” “But for a mere firewood seller like you—that martial prowess leaves me in awe.” “If I may presume—might I ask your honorable name?”

“My family name is Shi, and my given name is Xiu. I hail from Jinling in Jiankang Prefecture, and go by the nickname ‘Desperado Third Brother.’” “Brother Shi Xiu. Though presumptuous of me, would you become sworn brothers with this Yang Xiong? ...I am twenty-nine this year.” “I am twenty-eight.” “Then please treat me as your younger brother.”

“Hey there, tavern keeper! A private room for drinks. And make sure my men drink their fill today.”

Just then, Yang Xiong's father-in-law—known as Old Man Pan—came rushing over. Upon hearing of his son-in-law’s crisis, he had rushed out to rally help from all the neighbors, but upon learning the details,

“Well now, what a relief.” “Neighbors, do come in here and drink... Ah, I neglected to mention earlier.” “So you’re Brother Shi Xiu—the one who saved my son-in-law.”

“Yes, I look forward to your kind guidance. I am Shi Xiu, who has just received the brotherhood cup from Brother Yang Xiong.”

“What a gallant man! For me as well, having a sworn younger brother for my son-in-law—there could be no greater joy.” “Grandfather.” “Please have a cup.”

“Yes, yes. By the way, what was your original trade?” “I handled livestock under my late uncle until just last year.”

“Then you must be skilled at cutting pork and mutton as well.” “Actually, this old man was originally a butcher by trade too.” “However, when one son-in-law became a prison official—now I’ve retired.”

Before long, it was already time to light the lamps.—Those who insisted on continuing to drink left the bill with the tavern keeper, while the three of them returned to Yang Xiong’s residence near the edge of town. Staggering drunkenly, Yang Xiong was in high spirits. “Wife! Wife! Aren’t you coming out to greet us? I’ve brought my brother! Look at him—look at my brother!”

“Oh... you.”

Parting the beaded kitchen curtain, a slender-waisted beauty stood before her husband with a look of bewilderment. Her crescent moon eyebrows and starlit pupils—the incisors that held her graceful smile were as lovely as pomegranate seeds. “Hohoho.” “You’re teasing me again, aren’t you?” “My, you’re in such high spirits.”

“It’s no lie—it’s true. Qiaoyun.” “You make sure to look after him properly.” Qiaoyun was the name of this new bride. Born on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month—hers was a rare birth indeed. Perhaps because of this, her skin carried an indescribable mystique that seemed to linger about her person; when she spoke, her breath held a fragrant charm. From early youth she had enjoyed peerless renown for her beauty. At sixteen—scarcely after cutting her forelocks in the coming-of-age rite—she had been wed to Clerk Wang of Jizhou Prefecture, only to be widowed within two years. Even now, less than a year had passed since she married Yang Xiong.

The handsome monk was a former young master of a silk shop. The memorial service concerned the Realm of Form Mandala.

On one side were Dai Zong and Yang Lin the Brocade Leopard.

Afterwards, no matter how much they walked and searched, they ultimately could not uncover any trace of Gongsun Sheng.

They decided to turn back for the time being, stopped at Yinma River as planned to invite Pei Xuan, Deng Fei, and Meng Kang, formed a column disguised as government troops, and hurried toward Liangshan Marsh along winding paths. In other words, while Dai Zong had failed in his primary mission, he had instead returned with four distinguished new members—three hundred troops and wealth exceeding ten carts—as compensatory gains. To the celebratory feast accompanied by welcoming music that added renewed vigor, Liangshan Marsh’s mountains and waters seethed with activity.

However, there were no events worth telling there for some time.

Returning to the story, we come to a certain day at Yang Xiong’s residence in Jizhou City. “How’s it going, Brother Shi Xiu? Are you bored?” “Oh, Old Man Pan. It’s not boredom—rather, my sworn brother and sister-in-law treat me so well that I can’t help but feel ashamed.”

“No need for such formalities,” Old Man Pan waved a hand. “But since you’ve got no stomach for government service—my son-in-law says he can’t help you there.” “True enough,” Shi Xiu admitted. “I’m ill-suited for official work.” “Then why not try your hand at a butcher’s shop? There’s a vacant house perfect for it—down the dead-end alley behind the estate.” The old man pointed northwest. “Diagonally across from my retirement cottage.” “Ah! That empty place?” Recognition lit Shi Xiu’s face. “By all means—let me make good use of it.” He bowed slightly. “To repay your kindness.”

“Nonsense! This is how we do things here. We’ll split the profits fairly by percentage. Once my son-in-law returns from the office, we’ll discuss it right away.”

However, the matter was as good as settled. Yang Xiong and his wife also gave their full approval, and before long, firecrackers (fireworks), flyers for the "Grand Opening Sale," and celebratory red lanterns boisterously enlivened that street corner. It sold well. Shi Xiu also worked diligently. Moreover, Old Man Pan found an experienced butcher accustomed to trade and had Shi Xiu focus solely on procurement and management, so this aspect also proceeded without a hitch.

Thus, about two fleeting months passed, and it was autumn nearing winter.

“There’s a village some ways off with good pigs and sheep for sale,” said Shi Xiu. “I’ll be back in three days—keep watch over the shop.” “Right you are, Master,” replied the butcher. “Safe travels! That headscarf and robe—truly worthy of the young mistress’s eye from the estate—they suit you splendidly.” “Fool!” Shi Xiu snapped. “What nonsense is this? A butcher should polish his blades when idle, not waste breath on empty flattery.”

As he was about to leave, this grated on his nerves. The street omens had been poor, the procurement prospects unappealing, and so he extended his trip to a neighboring county—only to find, upon returning on the fourth day, that the shop door was closed.

"Ah, just as I thought?" he mused. "...The ancients had it right—'No one keeps up pretenses for a thousand days; no flower blooms red for a hundred.' No wonder. Elder Brother never missed a day at the government office yet remained oblivious to household matters. And here I was—a single man—being showered with sashes, headscarves, even undergarments by that beautiful sister-in-law of mine. No wonder the neighbors' whispers grew venomous. Right—this was the moment to withdraw."

He went inside, converted all remaining funds into a settlement statement and placed it at the counter. No sooner had he dashed off a single rough will than he made to bolt outside. But his sleeve was abruptly seized by Old Man Pan, who had been waiting in the shadows.

“Ah, wait! Don’t misunderstand—well, come back inside once more. Please listen carefully to why we had no choice but to close the shop these past couple of days.” “Brother Shi Xiu, you really do have a dreadful temper.” When he heard the reason, it turned out to be entirely Shi Xiu’s overthinking, and rather than anything else, he could only blush and scratch his head.

“Well then, Old Man. So today was the day of the memorial service? I never thought that was the reason.”

“Actually, there’s something I must confide in you. My daughter Qiaoyun was once married to Clerk Wang.”

“I’m aware of that matter.” “Regarding that—” “Today marks the first death anniversary of my daughter’s late husband, Mr. Wang.” “She insisted on holding a memorial service, so I’ve invited monks from Bao’en Temple.”

“In that case, closing the butcher shop was only natural.” “When I saw none of the shop workers present and even the butcher knives put away, I concluded it might be best for me to withdraw now.”

“Not at all. At my age, I’ve no real courage left at night, and my son-in-law’s always busy with his duties—I simply must have you help manage the memorial service and oversee the hospitality.”

“I understand,” “I’ll handle anything.”

“Now, now, don’t even dream of leaving here. I’m lonely too. My son-in-law also laments, I tell you.” Inside the Yang household, there was a bustle of activity. Since all the ritual implements and Buddhist utensils for the memorial service had already been brought from the family temple, Shi Xiu—together with the temple attendant—assembled the altar, adorned it with Buddhist statues, lamps, ritual vessels, gongs, drums, chimes, incense, and flowers, and even assisted with preparing the temple meal in the kitchen, busily rushing about all the while.

“Oh, sorry about that, Shi Xiu.” “Oh! Elder Brother? Welcome home.” “No—it’s not like I’ve really come back. I just came to check on things while the government office was quiet.” “So you’re returning to work again?” “I’m on night watch tonight. I’ve already told my wife—I’ll leave everything to you. You’ve never officiated a memorial service before, have you? Hahaha.” “It’s all part of gaining experience—please don’t concern yourself.” “I’ll leave it to you.”

Master Yang Xiong made a brief appearance past noon as if discharging marital obligations, then promptly departed again. Almost in the same breath, a monastic palanquin bearing a monk glided into the front courtyard with two acolytes in attendance.

Old Man Pan hurriedly stood up to greet them.

“Ah, Venerable Abbot. How kind of you to come amidst your busy schedule.” “Ah, Old Master. You’re looking as hale as ever.”

The main monk who emerged from the palanquin appeared to be around thirty. A waft of musk and pine nut incense rose from his freshly shaven head; with his pale lips slightly downturned at the corners and a charming beauty mark, he was such a handsome monk that one might mistake him for a nun. “Please… This way.” “Old Master.” “It’s nothing special, just a small token.” “Please use this for Clerk Wang’s offerings.” “Oh! These are precious incense bundles and capital jujubes…” “Brother Shi Xiu, take these to the altar immediately.”

“Yes, yes.” “I’ll have tea prepared right away as well.” As Shi Xiu hurried toward the inner memorial hall carrying the items, a pair of feet clad in shoes embroidered with hares and flowers descended soundlessly from the second-floor stairs, trailing a pale purple skirt. “Oh, Brother Xiu.” “That’s a received gift, you know.”

“Sister-in-law? The Venerable Abbot has already arrived over there.”

“I’m going now,” said Qiaoyun, her demeanor oddly restless. Dressed for a memorial service, she avoided strong colors and heavy makeup, but the bold rouge on her lips—paired with a pearly complexion lightly dusted with powder—made her appear more alluring than her usual glamorous self.

“Well. Let me have a look at that.” “These incense bundles?” “My, what a lovely fragrance. Hey Brother Xiu, these must be agarwood or sandalwood. That Venerable Abbot was born in the capital as the young master of a grand silk shop, you know. So he’s got refined taste—even in simple gifts like this.” “In society, he’s called Pei Ruhai of Bao’en Temple… or sometimes Venerable Abbot Hai.” “I don’t use such stuffy Dharma names. I just call him Brother Monk. After all, my father’s been a longtime adherent. When Brother Ruhai ascended to become Venerable Abbot, we supported him tremendously.”

Even during this brief standing conversation, she fidgeted restlessly, fretting over stray hairs at her temples and the fading of her lip rouge. Then she hurried into the mirror room to check her appearance once more before finally emerging before Ruhai and greeting him with graceful courtesy. “Well.”

With that, Pei Ruhai stood up from his chair like a living Buddha and courteously bowed his head. A Fuzhou-green surplice, a purple-and-gold brocade Buddhist stole, and its sash—all intricately patterned with Western Regions arabesque. —With few words and the rest through sidelong glances, “You always look so well.” he murmured, his eyes smoldering with improper passion. Qiaoyun immediately relaxed her manner and said: “Oh, come now—such stiff formalities, Brother Monk!” “And your husband...?” “Tonight he’s on night duty—he sends his deepest apologies.”

“Well, well.” “Actually, since a Segakido Hall has now been built within the mountain temple grounds, I had been hoping—with your husband’s permission—to ask you to visit it once.”

“Yes, I will certainly come.” “My current husband pays no mind to my comings and goings—he’s utterly unreliable…… And when my mother passed away, you were the one who performed the *Blood Bowl Sutra* for her, weren’t you?” “And you must perform even *the vow release* as well.”

At that moment, the maid brought in the tea. Qiaoyun received the tea bowl, placed it on the temmoku stand, and wiped the rim with white silk. When she offered it to Ruhai, his fingers and her pale fingers touched through the mediation of the bowl. All the while, the area around her eyes—captured by a melting gaze—held an amorous air as precarious as the tea swaying within the bowl. "...Oh my," she said. So this was the true aim of the memorial service.

Shi Xiu was watching.

The curtain over the guest room window was slightly parted. Abruptly, Ruhai noticed it.

“Oh. Who is that?” Qiaoyun also flinched. “Well, what an unpleasant person. Brother Shi Xiu, do come in. Don’t just stand there.”

“Is this a member of your household?” “Yes, he’s my husband’s sworn brother.”

“I see.” “Please make yourself at home.” “I am Ruhai—abbot of Bao’en Temple.”

“I failed to introduce myself,” said Shi Xiu as he approached—

“I was born in Jinling and am also known as Desperado Sanlang—a rough fellow. Please treat me well.”

“Well then, as time grows short, I shall take the monks waiting outside and return to properly attend the Dharma seat once more.” Ruhai stepped outside momentarily. Outside the gate, numerous memorial service monks who had arrived late were awaiting their appointed hour. For a time—whatever preparations they made—their incessant prattling created nothing but clamorous din. The air hung thick with an unspeakable profanity.

The ancients also said.

“If one is not violent, one is not monk-like. If one is a monk, one grows ever more violent. If one is violent, one becomes all the more monk-like.” There was also such a witty old saying.

In one character: 'monk'. In two characters: 'monk'. In three characters: 'demon-pleasure official'. In four characters: 'a lust-driven hungry ghost'. Why have monks and carnal affairs been so closely associated since ancient times? To answer: the wealthy, for their part, were burdened by riches and domestic troubles; even with their numbered wives and concubines, they could not fully drown in the depths of carnal desire. As for the poor, between the fatigue of labor, tomorrow’s rice shortages, and under a cramped roof crowded with the sick and children, they could not afford to lose themselves in carnal passion with their wives.

However, what about monks? Their bodies were still formed from a father’s love and a mother’s blood. They were no different from ordinary people. Moreover, they wore brocade robes, never knowing hunger for their three daily meals thanks to the pockets of their patrons and parishioners; the chairs they sat upon were high, yet their acts of charity remained exceedingly low. The monasteries they inhabited surpassed the main halls in grandeur, and the time spent in private chambers was abundant. Naturally, within their minds, ceaseless delusions—daughters outside the gate, married women on pilgrimage, this woman and that woman, women, women, women—dwelled in their idle bodies. Moreover, since their bodies were not otherwise depleted, it was inevitable that a general view would easily form: once their energy boiled over and they plunged into women’s flesh, they must possess unmatched vigor.

Thus, Shi Xiu's perspective on men and women shifted. And he could not help but dwell on his sworn brother Yang Xiong's circumstances. Resentment boiled within him. He wanted to denounce them face-to-face.

_This was dangerous,_ Shi Xiu thought_. My true nature was about to flare up._ _But it wasn't like I'd caught them..._

At this time, the monks led by Ruhai had already surged into the inner memorial hall. Amidst thickly coiling incense smoke, they bowed in worship at the chime of the qing. Upon the altar flickered Wang Yasi’s Spirit Tablet in the lamplight, but Shi Xiu—watching from the lowest seat—found it unbearably absurd: how should one perceive this rite? How receive it? The ceremonial food offerings, the tea libations. Then came the bombastic sutra chanting from ten head monks in unison. The more solemn it grew, the more acutely uncomfortable Shi Xiu became—until Pan Qiaoyun, their benefactor, stepped forward with delicate grace to offer incense. Her prayerful palms pressed together with feigned sincerity—so prolonged! Then that provocative flash of white collar and hem! Instantly, the sutra chanting frayed. Every monk’s eyes now seemed fixed on imagining—with carnal relish—her breasts and crotch’s vicinity. No—this reek of female musk overpowering even incense! It made Ruhai’s ritual bell-scepter motions falter, until the altar transformed into a mandala-like scene: minds like monkeys and hearts like wild horses gone mad.

Twilight finally ended.

“Thank you all.” “Thank you for today.” “Surely, the Buddha must be delighted that he has attained enlightenment and liberation.” Following Qiaoyun’s words of thanks，Shi Xiu，Old Man Pan，and the servant took the lead，

“Please take your seats over there.”

“Please take your time and enjoy the meal.” With that, they led them toward the separate room. Ruhai walked at the very back, his flushed bluish head steaming. Then a woman who had drawn near to his side quietly passed him a fragrant handkerchief from her sleeve.

“Brother Monk. You’re sweating…” It resembled an actor stepping offstage with his devoted patroness. Qiaoyun pressed the sweat-dampened handkerchief to her lips—her eyelids, like crimson orchids, brimming with springtime longing as she did so. The memorial meal lasted but a moment. When the Bore Soup had fully circulated, they returned to the altar for evening sutras. Another rest, another sutra. This continued until nearly dawn.

Gradually, the sutra chanting became disordered. The monks were all plastered. Indecent talk was bound to spill out. Qiaoyun entrusted the hosting duties to others and drew Ruhai into a dim corner of a small room to seduce him.

“Hey, Brother Monk.” “…You’re so restless, aren’t you?”

“But I came here as a parishioner...” “Oh my. “How formal. “I never had such intentions. “I don’t understand.” “Well?” “…” “What do you mean?” “Ah, you’re cruel! “You know perfectly well. “I shall certainly attend the Blood Bowl Sutra vow dissolution. “Good.” “But that young man they call my sworn brother—the one I glimpsed this afternoon. “Those eyes of his are unsettling, aren’t they?”

“Tch, that one’s nothing to worry about—practically a freeloader.” “Mr. Yang Xiong isn’t exactly all smiles either.” “Don’t worry. When it comes to your husband, duty comes first—no time for indulgences. And besides, anything I say goes now.”

“You have such a fine husband—why would you turn to someone like me?” “Is that forbidden?” “You—do you mean to kill me? Would you rather die than...” “Who made me feel this way?” “Oh—how cruel!” “Ah—keep your voice down.” “You truly are—” “You tormentor.” “Oh come now—you’re simply too bewitching.” “Liar! If you meant it truly, you’d—” “If you truly meant it—” “Don’t make unreasonable demands.” “No—no. No... It’s unbearable.” “What have I done to myself?”

A sweet sob brought a momentary hush—but all too soon, voices of monks calling from somewhere in the corridor startled the couple there.

“Acharya Ruhai—Acharya Ruhai—please burn the paper money. “It is dawn, sir.”

With the moonlit dawn sky, they burned the paper money at the altar, bringing all memorial services to their conclusion.

Along with the smoke, Pei Ruhai’s palanquin and the procession of ten monks returned to the mountain temple. After that came disorder; the cleanup was another ordeal.

At that very moment, Yang Xiong returned from the government office, completely unaware. “Ah, you’ve worked hard, Shi Xiu. You must’ve shouldered the heaviest burden.” “Oh... welcome back. It was nothing at all. Everything went smoothly enough.” “As for my wife...” “Hm? Sister-in-law—wasn’t she around here? Then she must be in the second-floor bedroom. She must be thoroughly exhausted from it all.” “My apologies. I left even the cleanup entirely to you. After all, she’s not of robust constitution. She’s good-natured at heart—must’ve gone to bed full of remorse. Please understand.”

She was his wife. She had also been a lover-wife. He likely didn't want to appear dishonorable even before his sworn brother Shi Xiu. While speaking as if representing his wife, Yang Xiong climbed the stairs to the second floor. ...Ah—why had such a good-natured man ended up choosing such a woman? Shi Xiu gazed up at his retreating back from the foot of the stairs, righteous indignation abruptly heating the corners of his eyes. Not even the erotic wall paintings sufficed—there remained the matter of that lustful monk making his hundred-night visits. At the roadside corner shop—the butcher shop he had once closed now reopened—Shi Xiu appeared determined to cast aside trivial irritations, showing himself at the storefront early that day and dispensing flatteries to customers.

Then, a little before noon.

From the depths of the road emerged a beautiful woman’s palanquin in a graceful procession. The attendants were Ying’er, the young maid, and Old Man Pan; both were dressed in fresh attire for an outing—unusual for them. “Oh, Grandpa, where are you off to?”

“Brother Shi Xiu, I’ll leave the house in your care.” “Today’s... well... it’s for the requiem service to release my late wife’s Blood Bowl Sutra vows.” “Huh.” “To Bao’en Temple, is it?” “On the evening of the recent memorial service, my daughter Qiaoyun made an arrangement with Abbot Ruhai. Since it was such a matter, my son-in-law Yang Xiong was in good spirits and permitted her to go, you see.” “We might return in the evening, though.” “I see.” “Have a safe trip.”

Shi Xiu crossed his arms and glared after Qiaoyun’s palanquin with eyes that could pierce stone. Adulterous wench! he spat silently. Then— "...How pitiful." "What a kind-hearted fool my Elder Brother Yang Xiong is—knowing nothing at all!" he muttered toward the butchering block as if expelling poison.

he muttered as if spitting the words out toward the butchering block. Qiaoyun likely paid no attention to the look in his eyes—this nuisance Shi Xiu, whom her husband had picked up and even allowed to manage the shop—. Her heart was already racing ahead. Pei Ruhai—once the young heir of a silk shop, now masquerading as Abbot Ruhai of Bao’en Temple—even that woman’s soul was already soaring toward the form she longed to behold. There, on the outskirts of Jizhou Castle, stood an ancient temple; indeed, the temple alone—with mountain peaks echoing pine whispers—exuded a moss-covered serenity and aged splendor.

“Oh, welcome!” “You’ve graced us with your presence.” “Come now—straight ahead to the main hall.”

Abbot Ruhai, who had been waiting impatiently at the mountain gate together with the assembly of monks, took the lead and guided them inside. Qiaoyun was already in a daze. She applied her makeup lavishly today, and her delicate figure following along resembled Goddess Kichijōten—carved into temple transoms—descending to earth. But before the monks’ eyes, they could only communicate through exchanged glances. By nature, temple “trysts” had a way of strangely intensifying secret flames of passion and alluring emotions. The sutras of Shakyamuni, the mantras of Kegon, the esoterica of Shingon. Those teachings clashed with instinct in fiery conflict. Moreover, the pleasant thrill of rebellion—this worldly detachment—might also have contributed to it.

In the guest hall came first a bowl of tea with an orchid floating upon it. Before long they entered the prepared Segaki Hall, where the group took seats for solemn memorial rites. Through two hours of sutra chanting, even the enshrined Jizo Bodhisattva before Qiaoyun began appearing as Pei Ruhai’s pale visage. The incense smoke’s undulating threads twisted bewitchingly—her mind, far from releasing the deceased’s vows, became wholly consumed with binding her own carnal desires until reality itself dissolved. At last, it ended—

“Now, please rest in the inner quarters.”

The gratitude she felt when told by one of the monks. Old Man Pan also stretched his back with a sigh of relief and moved along the cloistered corridor to the inner chamber. There lay a vegetarian feast. Even the palanquin bearers and Ying’er, her attendant, were being hosted in a separate room, while Old Man Pan presented the silver ingots and silken fabrics he had brought. “Just a trifling offering.” With that, he made his donation. “Now now—no need for such formality,” said Ruhai as he accepted it, then swiftly added: “Please take your leisure today. Come now—how about another cup, Grandpa?”

“Oh, I’ve had quite enough, Abbot Ruhai. What might this fine sake be called?” “It is our temple-brewed specialty.” “Ah, that explains it! I’ve never tasted such delicious sake in all my days, I tell you!” “Ho ho ho! Are you certain it’s wise to drink so heartily?”

“Qiaoyun.”

“Well, you should have a sip too.” “Oh, no,” said Pei Ruhai as he picked up a different flask. “For Madam, I shall serve this one.” “For a delicate lady such as yourself, this one is more suitable.” “Oh… You pour for me. How kind.” By now, Qiaoyun’s seething emotions manifested in her posture—her eyes grew languid, the luster of her skin beginning to exude fragrance. The lecherous monk Pei Ruhai must have shared the same restless impatience in his heart. That night some time ago, they had parted with only an empty kiss. He could not afford to let this opportunity slip away today. It was precisely for this reason that he had mixed a trace amount of sleeping drug into Old Man Pan’s sake and put an aphrodisiac into the flask he offered to Qiaoyun. If the art of medicine was also what Buddhists called “unseen truth,” then perhaps these lecherous monks considered their use of the female form as an expedient means of enlightenment to be an act of compassion—a so-called salvation of women.

“Oh… “I don’t mind it, Grandfather...” “…It seems he’s had far too much—he’s even started drooling.”

“Madam.” “Just let him be.” “Isn’t that perfectly all right?”

"But it's getting so late... Oh my, I seem to be feeling a bit tipsy." "Why don't you step outside here and let the breeze refresh you?" "Beyond this point lies an area where scarcely anyone is permitted entry..." "Oh... "How tranquil it is here." "There's still a room further along the corridor." "This is my chamber." "Show me. "...Would that be improper?" "If it's you, Madam..."

“No. “…‘Madam’? Please. Hey, Brother Monk – didn’t you promise we’d be together that night?”

The flames of earthly desire could melt iron itself. Especially since he had once been the young master of a silk shop. The reason he had become a monk in the first place stemmed from women—escaping worldly troubles of debts and the path of lust. Given that this was Pei Ruhai’s former self, his earthly desires were anything but new. The terror of deceiving her husband Yang Xiong’s eyes could not be contained, but the temptation of secret pleasure—like a ripe fruit—emanated from Qiaoyun’s body. Qiaoyun, too, now had an air about her that, if touched, she would fall into the man’s hands.

“I’m sorry, Brother Monk.” “…I.” “Oh my, what seems to be the trouble?”

“I don’t know… I just…” “I just… I can’t.” “You didn’t even drink that much, did you?” “Oh no—it’ll wear off soon.” “Why don’t you lie down there for a bit?” “……Right? Do as I say.”

When the curtain of the adjoining room was drawn back, one would expect a monk’s solitary bed—a place for dreams of Buddhist precepts under cool, distant clouds. Yet how could it be that kalavinka-embroidered partitions and red-and-white lotus-painted screens exuded such allure? Qiaoyun, her face buried in her sleeve, twisted her body— “Ah...”

As she lay down upon it like polished silk, her form became one of complete abandon. Simultaneously, an uncanny fragrance—not born from her skin’s warmth—enveloped them, smoldering within a scent that seemed to evoke bodily convulsions of ecstasy.

From the small Song celadon censer by the pillow, a thread of spring passion incense smoke rose as thin as a single strand of invisible drizzle. Moreover, since the wine earlier had been laced with an aphrodisiac, the workings within her body grew dissatisfied with their normal positions and mere subdued breaths, seeming to crave a force that would have someone suck her lips until they suffocated and inflict upon the depths of her flesh both muscular constrictions and sanguine torment—groaning in anguish, she writhed, her eyes narrowing as if strained by agony.

“Are you uncomfortable?” “Oh, can’t you lie down?” “Perhaps you should remove your outer garments?” “How cruel. You’re so unkind.”

"Oh? You're crying." "But you're making me cry, you know."

“Why?” “You’re making me like this.”

“But I haven’t done anything at all.”

“That’s why, you see... You and your whole ‘Brother Monk’ act—” “Ah—there it is.” “I could just devour you.” “You know exactly what you’re doing.” “Oh, come now—you’re just tormenting me.” “I won’t let go.” “I won’t let go.” “No matter what comes of this.” “Is this truly acceptable?” “What?”

“Your husband Yang Xiong.” “Why would you say such a thing?” “And then… what was his name? Ah yes—there’s also that man with the terrifying eyes—Shi Xiu or something.”

“That guy. “…Oh, I see.” “So you’re scared.” “Got frightened and started making excuses to run away, hmm?” “Do you despise me?”

"That calm face of yours... Demon... Like some pale-faced devil."

“Did you just realize now—about this Pei Ruhai?” “I am a lascivious demon.” “The real me—well.” “That’s why I’m terrifying.” “Even so—is this acceptable?” “…….” “Even so—” “I don’t know.”

Abruptly, she turned her face to the side. The jade earrings swayed gently against a flushed neck; the corners of her eyes glistened with tears brimming with eager anticipation of joy, while a blend of fear and sweet teardrops soaked through even the hair at her temples.

Pei Ruhai slowly removed the woman's garments of modesty. Qiaoyun's skin could not endure his groping—repeatedly arching her snow-white breasts backward while bending her cervical spine forward, she gasped as if seeking lips. But Pei Ruhai did not hurriedly bring his lips to hers, "Well... How does Yang Xiong usually do it?"

He whispered, teasing her earlobe—resembling a crabapple blossom—with his teeth, neither biting nor licking. “How cruel.” Qiaoyun sulked and grew slightly angry. “That’s why I warned you beforehand.” Pei Ruhai’s body lifted its lower half and buried his face beneath her armpit; from there, gradually leaving the breasts behind, he began probing the supple skin with his tongue. She twisted her body as if to snap. Clenching a groan akin to flames of agony between her teeth, she exhaled a hot breath roughly. It suddenly died out. Her snow-white thigh rose near the nape of Pei Ruhai’s shaven monk’s neck, obscuring his face. A posture like that of a beast entranced, lapping its tongue at a shore where underground springs surged. When her nostrils released a gasp verging on unconsciousness, he abruptly pushed himself up to her lips. In her frenzy, she seized his mouth filled with her own fluids and violently shook her face. With voracious force, she sucked his tongue painfully to its root. Yet Pei Ruhai gave nothing more, mercilessly staring down at her orchid-like eyelids. Her eyes grew misty as she glared resentfully at those looming above. When he saw a rainbow—narrow yet radiant with life’s ultimate beauty—simmering in her eyes, Pei Ruhai at last leisurely filled what she desired with the pride he had harbored.

A single cry of ecstasy—this was a Tang-style expressive method from their country, unlike our country’s springtime lexicon where one would not simply say “weep.” One wept with delicate whimpers. One sobbed. Phrases like these were unique to Japanese boudoir lexicon; when passions peaked, it seemed the sensitivity of men and women there lay in crying out once and again. Phrases such as “阿呀一声、身子已是酥麻了” (With a cry of “Aya!”, [her] body had already gone limp) were commonly seen. Regarding matters of foreplay and afterplay, humanity’s study within the universal philosophy of eroticism remained unchanged no matter where one looked, but in terms of persistence and tenacity, there may have been slight differences due to national circumstances or physical disparities. Judging from written expressions like “one grind and one rub,” “three deep and nine shallow,” and “tightening and constricting,” it was not as though Pei Ruhai alone had been such an exceptional lecherous monk. Rather, the problem at hand lay in the surrounding environment, the secret allure of adultery, and Qiaoyun’s physical state at that time.

No matter what she did, Qiaoyun found herself consumed by this single encounter—something unforgettable to the very core of her mind. When it came to boldness, women surpassed men. At parting, she demanded their next rendezvous. But this was a temple. They could not keep inventing such pretexts to meet here. Therefore, they devised the following scheme.

Yang Xiong, her husband, was on night duty for half of each month and did not return home from his workplace, the prison office. Therefore, they stationed the servant Ying'er at the back door, and on nights when Yang Xiong was absent, they had incense burned at the gate. However, just in case exhaustion from their secret meetings left them sleeping through even the crows' cries—a dire risk—they decided to commission a morning patrol ascetic (a dawn pilgrim who walked door-to-door for morning devotions) to knock a wooden fish at the back door every morning. With this arrangement, there would be no cause for concern.

“Hey now?” “Then we shall do so.”

Pan Qiaoyun said with a sidelong glance. “Agreed,” said Pei Ruhai, who likewise could not forget the depths of this woman’s moist skin. “—At the temple, there’s a clever temple worker. I’ll line his pockets amply and have him serve as the morning patrol ascetic. But you’re certain, right?”

“Oh no, you’re the one who mustn’t forget.”

With a bewitching smile and a glance, the woman adjusted her trailing hair once more and left the temple. And when she returned to the mansion, the next day she bought beads and clothes for the young maid Ying’er, bringing her under her thumb as well. Are such maids—these “lackeys” who transform into loyal hounds with a mere sniff of bribery—found in every household? Thus, on nights when Yang Xiong did not return home, guided by the glow of incense and the young maid’s signals, a lecherous monk—hood pulled low over his brows—audaciously sneaked into the secret chamber of another man’s wife nearly every other night, stealing the sweet nectar of adultery.

A mantra of pure friendship could not surpass pillow talk tinged with crimson tears of a single grudge, proving futile.

The world has eyes somewhere, after all. Moreover, Shi Xiu had long sensed something foul, and after a month of this, "Hah..." "They're at it again. Damned bastards."

He had grown suspicious.

It was the beginning of the eleventh month. Though every morning was already covered in pure white frost, there was an ascetic who would come all the way into the depths of the dead-end alley just before dawn and persistently knock his wooden fish. This morning, too, in the still dimly lit outside, ...Pudu zhong sheng (universal salvation of all sentient beings) Salvation from suffering and calamity All Buddhas and Bodhisattvas

"They're at it again. Bastards." "Tch—once I’m awake because of this, I can’t get back to sleep at all." As Shi Xiu peered out from the butcher shop’s back door into the alley, intending to bark a reprimand at whoever was passing by, suddenly—from the rear gate of Yang Xiong’s house further down—a large man in a different hood emerged. In a flash, he vanished into the main street alongside the morning patrol ascetic.

“Ah, just as I thought—it’s him… Poor Elder Brother.” As for Elder Brother in the back… He could no longer pretend not to see. First, his mood had grown so foul that he couldn’t even feign friendliness toward the shop’s customers. That day, he wandered aimlessly along Zhou Bridge’s street, pacing back and forth as he racked his brain for a way to summon Yang Xiong from the prison office.

“Hey, Shi Xiu.” “What’s wrong?” “You look troubled.” “Oh, Elder Brother. “No—I was just thinking... of asking someone at the prison office to...” “Were you trying to see me?” “Coming to see me?” “Well... it’s urgent.” “We’re brothers who can meet at home anytime. Why do this outside?” “Why go out of your way?” “Elder Brother. “I can’t speak properly here.” “Let’s share a drink somewhere.” “I can’t let you pay for this.” “This is my territory.” “Ah—let’s go up to that pavilion.”

A single pavilion was visible by the bridge. It was Yang Xiong, the influential figure. He entered first. Those in the pavilion did not let anyone remain below. “The dishes and wine will suffice as they are.” “No one is to come until I call.”

There, Yang Xiong formally inquired.

“Shi Xiu. Our Cup of Sworn Brotherhood wasn’t pledged lightly. Your worries are my own. Now—tell me everything.” “Well, Elder Brother... This isn’t about me. It concerns your wife—my sister-in-law.”

“What? “About Qiaoyun?”

“Well… “…It’s hard to say, but…” “But I cannot keep silent.” “Elder Brother, don’t go getting angry now.”

“Hmm. Is there something… unpleasant about Qiaoyun?” “There’s a serious matter concerning your wife. To tell you the truth, it’s almost too late to inform you—your wife has already taken up with that lewd monk from Bao’en Temple. Now, now. Don’t let your face betray you. Stay calm. Whether my eyes deceived me or not—you are her husband. Make your judgment with a clear head.” Then he laid out his full warning—starting from the night Abbot Pei Ruhai had come to the residence for the first anniversary memorial service, through all subsequent suspicious behavior, down to the ascetic practices he’d recently noticed and even how he’d personally witnessed a hooded man sneaking out at dawn.

“Hey, Elder Brother. For you, she’s your beloved wife,” Shi Xiu said carefully. “Though it pains me to speak words that might sunder such a devoted couple, I must tell you—your sister-in-law isn’t a woman of good character.” “...Thank you!” Yang Xiong rasped. “Whoa—so sudden!” Shi Xiu grabbed his arm as Yang stood. “Elder Brother, where are you going?” “Isn’t it obvious? Let me go.” “Didn’t I warn you? Keep this close for now. First secure proof at the scene.” Shi Xiu tightened his grip. “Consider your standing. The world’s eyes are watching. This... is the bitter lot of men.”

While Shi Xiu was trying to calm him down, subordinates from the yamen came looking for Yang Xiong. That night was his day off, but he had been invited to a celebration at the magistrate’s residence. After parting with Shi Xiu in the street, he headed there, but remained gloomy, his stomach boiling with anger. Unaccustomed to his severe drunkenness, the magistrate and colleagues grew alarmed and resolved not to let him drink any more—but precisely because they tried to stop him, he became all the more obstinate and kept drinking.

In the end, he was carried back by his subordinates, completely plastered. The entrance was in an uproar. Old Man Pan, Yinger, and even his wife Qiaoyun came out, creating such a commotion as they carried him all the way up to the second-floor bedroom.

“What in the world happened to you, oh my...”

“What the hell?! You whore!” “Oh my, what a frightening look you’re giving me. Well now—take off your kimono and lie down properly on the bed.” “Don’t touch me! You’re disgusting.” Lying flat on his back, Yang Xiong raised his leg and kicked her away with a thud.

“You stink! You reek of men!” “Get out of here!”

“Aren’t you the one who reeks of alcohol? You’re out of your mind.” “Mind your own business! Even looking at your face makes me sick. You slut, you whore—get the hell out of my sight! I won’t let you sleep in this room!” “Fine, do as you please. I won’t care even if you catch a cold.” Pan Qiaoyun clicked her tongue and pushed open the door to the adjacent room. Yang Xiong lay sprawled out in a “dai” shape. However, he could not sleep. The more he tried to sleep, the fiercer his inner flames blazed. Finally, he once again began stomping his legs on the floor and shouting.

“Qiaoyun! Qiaoyun! …I’ll give you the divorce papers—get over here!” “Hey! I told you to come out! I’ll shave your head and make you a monk’s wife—get over here!” He couldn’t stay in bed. Qiaoyun fearfully entered her husband’s room again. At once, her shrill scream slipped out. But moments later, it shifted into something like honeyed sobs—husband-and-wife whispers hushed into silence, still sniffling wetly, while the fifth watch’s dying lamp flickered and wept alongside them.

“……Then what? Qiaoyun—are you claiming everything I said was groundless lies?” “It’s... it’s infuriating, I...” “Not a single one of those accusations holds any truth—I have no memory of such things whatsoever!” “They’re all inventions by that leeching parasite—slanderous falsehoods!”

“So… you’re saying these are Shi Xiu’s false charges then.” “Exactly! It’s all because *you* brought that nobody from who-knows-where into the home in the first place—making me call him your sworn brother and address me as his sister-in-law—that things have escalated like this!” “Even I—I can’t take it anymore!” “I’ll say it!” ……”

“What?” “I’ve endured it all this time until today, but… Damn it—if he’s going to slander me with such disgrace and try to drive a wedge between us—” “N-no… surely Shi Xiu isn’t the kind of man to drive a wedge between us.” “No—it’s your blind trust in that man.” “He’s clearly seen through that and is even trying to deceive me now.” “It’s not good that I’ve kept silent until now, unable to speak of such unspeakable things from a woman’s mouth.” “But you’ll forgive me for that, won’t you?” “I’ll say it all now.”

“What are you claiming he did to you?” “At first, he kept pestering me by slipping love letters in secret, but eventually grew bold enough to—”

“Wh—love letters?” “That’s not even the worst of it! When you said it was your night off-duty, he would sneak in from the backyard—” “There?” “There was even a time he tried to violate me—I’d steeled myself for it. Look here—the drawer of that vanity table. I always keep a protective dagger there. Just the other night, I drew the blade and showed him. ‘If you force yourself on me,’ I said, ‘I’ll kill myself with my own hands.’ When I told him my husband would avenge me, he slunk away…”

“Don’t cry. …I was wrong.”

Yang Xiong gulped dryly and held his breath. He was inherently obstinate by nature. When taken seriously, it plunged into a steep descent.

Thud, thud, thud—he descended the stairs with heavy footsteps. And rousing Pan Gong from his retirement quarters, after exchanging a few brief words, he headed off to the government office even though the sky was still dark.

Pan Gong was flustered. “Close down the corner butcher shop as of today—toss all the shop’s tools, pigs, and sheep into the storage shed and put up a ‘Closed’ sign,” he ordered. Moreover, subordinates of Yang Xiong who worked at the prison office immediately came from the government office, pried open the door from outside, and handled everything without even borrowing Pan Gong’s assistance. Then, carrying several pig legs on their shoulders, they roared with laughter and left. The one shocked by the sudden turn of events and their roughness was Shi Xiu—nicknamed “Desperado”—who had been sleeping in a room of the shop. He felt a surge of anger but immediately denied it and stroked his chest.

"...Elder Brother isn't at fault here." Even though this one had strictly warned him never to say anything before securing the scene, he must have ended up blaming this one in a fit of resentment after seeing the woman’s face. It seems the adulteress, true to her nature, has turned this around as a counterattack. Hmph—when you think about it, maybe this isn’t even worth the dogs’ time—just another common mess. "Guess this one will just quietly withdraw for now."

Originally a carefree wanderer through the three realms, he immediately packed his belongings, neatly arranged the shop's cash and ledger, tossed them into Pan Gong's retirement quarters, and bolted out without even eating breakfast. He was about to leave Jizhou altogether when— "No... wait." He took lodging at a flophouse on the town's outskirts and spent the whole day thinking. Though Pan Qiaoyun might be a born adulteress, she was no ordinary woman. Her lover Pei Ruhai was cunning through and through. If matters turned sour, they might well slip poison to that nuisance Yang Xiong. Even if it didn't go that far, scandal would spread. Yang Xiong's honor would lie in ruins. A man of Jizhou brought low.

"Setting aside the debt of one night’s lodging and a meal—even if just in name—he could not abandon a brother with whom he had once sworn an oath."

He reconsidered. He turned his mind to a plan. Yang Xiong knew the days he was on night duty. That night, around the hour of the ox’s fullness [2 AM], he left the cheap inn and, from before the fifth watch [3–5 AM], lurked at the corner of the dead-end alley where he had once lived, lying in wait for his target. Unaware of this, the usual beggar monk began entering the alleyway entrance, knocking his wooden fish as he went. Seizing his chance—he suddenly jumped at him. “Hey! Don’t make a sound,” he barked, grabbing the monk by the collar.

“He’s there, right? Since last night.” “Since last night.” “Wh-what do you mean? I haven’t done anything.” “I haven’t done anything…” “Don’t play dumb. “I’m asking whether that adulterous monk Pei Ruhai has sneaked into Qiaoyun’s bedroom.” “Uh... uh... yes...” “I don’t know for certain, but that…”

“Enough.” “Take off your clothes.” “Leave the pilgrim’s bag and wooden fish there.” “Strip. Get naked.”

The Beggar Monk trembled violently. Forced to comply, his body contorted into something like an octopus as he sank to the ground, teeth chattering uncontrollably. Shi Xiu promptly changed into the monk’s clothes and barked, “You just lie there and sleep,” before tightening his grip around the monk’s throat once. The Beggar Monk’s eyes rolled back as he slipped into a feigned death. Shi Xiu dragged the limp body to the butcher shop’s back entrance, then—now fully impersonating the monk—paced along the inner mansion’s rear wall near the gate. *Deliver all sentient beings… Relieve suffering and hardship… All Buddhas and Bodhisattvas…* he chanted mechanically, punctuating each phrase with steady *pok-pok* knocks of the wooden fish.

On the popular songs of Jizhou. Next: "The Adulteress’s The Pale Nudity: Turning Cuiping Mountain to Autumn Foliage “Oh. The Beggar Monk’s wooden fish could be heard. “Is it nearly dawn already?”

Having been sound asleep after the night’s carnal activities, Pei Ruhai hurriedly donned his priestly robes and wrapped a long headcloth around himself. Qiaoyun lay fast asleep, her face so devoid of powder she looked lifeless; yet come morning, she clung to the man’s chest, still murmuring insatiable sweet nothings. “What’s the rush? We’ll meet again soon enough.” “It’s not like we’re parting for days…” As Pei Ruhai slipped out alone, Ying’er, the maidservant, waited in the downstairs corridor holding a hanging lantern. The procedure followed their usual routine. With a clank, Ying’er removed the rear gate’s latch, and in that instant, Pei Ruhai darted out to the front.

Pok-pok, pok-pok—the shadow of the Beggar Monk still persistently knocked the wooden fish at the corner of the wall. “Oh—the Beggar Monk.” “What’s wrong? This isn’t like usual?” said Pei Ruhai, rushing forward on his own— “Enough.” “Enough with the wooden fish.” “Go home! I said go home!” With that, he barked a single command. And then, just as he tried to dash from the alleyway to the front, something abruptly yanked him back by the collar. “Monk! Wait.” “Hold it!”

“Guh!” “Stop squirming. Once I’ve got you, you ain’t gettin’ away. You recognize this face?” “Gah! You—” “Take a good look—your last glimpse of this world. I’m Yang Xiong’s sworn brother—Shi Xiu the Desperado. You dared smear mud on my brother’s honor. You—” “Ah! H-help!” “Enough of your filthy pleasures—quit your selfish yammerin’. You damnable monk!” “I-I’ll end it! I’ll leave her right now—I swear!”

“Damn.” “Now it’s too late!”

Shi Xiu, still holding onto his opponent’s struggles from behind, plunged the dagger in his right hand deep into Pei Ruhai’s side. He twisted and twisted, then flung it down with a thud.

Fresh blood swiftly streamed across the frost-covered path. He stripped off Pei Ruhai’s headcloth and priestly robes, gathered them in his arms, and leapt from the path to the thoroughfare like a bird in flight.

And so, before long, dawn broke pale across the sky. Throughout the town came sounds of doors opening. Carts rumbled through the streets. “Terrible! Murder!” “A naked monk’s been killed!” “A naked monk’s lying dead here!”

The first to discover the corpse on the roadside and sound the alarm was the old rice porridge seller, who came around this area every morning without fail, ringing the bell of his handcart. Now a commotion erupted. The thoroughfare was instantly swarmed with a crowd. Coroners arrived from the authorities. Informants combed the entire neighborhood making inquiries.

The corpse was quickly identified as Ruhai of Hao'en Temple. The other Beggar Monk had merely fainted; he soon regained consciousness but was taken away naked. This Beggar Monk was Hu Daoren from Hao'en Temple's treasury department. Through his confession, the matter found its way into the magistrate's official records in outline form.

But there was a problem. The incident concerned an adultery scandal involving the wife of Yang Xiong, an official serving at the prison office. The magistrate’s office concluded that Yang Xiong must have known about it and had someone else kill the adulterer, Pei Ruhai. The magistrate was at a loss for how to proceed. Qiaoyun was known through their usual private dealings as Yang Xiong’s lover. They couldn't help but sympathize with him. Given that even the Beggar Monk’s confession made Pei Ruhai’s misdeeds evident, they concluded it was best to handle this as an internal matter, keeping its exposure to the absolute minimum. Thus, they conducted pro forma summons of all monks within Bao’en Temple and issued investigation orders for the culprit, but with Yang Xiong, they merely took a single statement and left him alone.

Qiaoyun must have shuddered. Old Man Pan must also have been terrified. But this concerned his daughter. Old Man Pan, too, sharply closed his mouth and henceforth spoke nothing of this matter to the world. But the world has eyes, the world has mouths.

A strange folk song began circulating through the streets of Jizhou. Parasols shimmering, copper gongs booming

Shoulders slicing through the wind—Bing Guansuo (Yang Xiong’s nickname) too,

The wife he fell for—can’t be cut down! Love’s weakness leaves no escape. Monks snug as fat cats, ascetics warm and clueless. In Dharma’s black night lies the jade gate— Once you dive in, you’ll never forget! Swim through the bloody pool—no way out! The tavern courtesans sang it too. At every crossroads, children chanted and mocked. Yang Xiong couldn’t escape hearing it. Pitying his ridiculed self, he burned with remorse toward his sworn younger brother Shi Xiu, who had vanished like a shadow, “If only I could meet him again somehow.”

And so, every day during his commute to and from the prison office, he searched for his whereabouts. And finally, having discovered that he was staying at a rundown inn on the outskirts of town, when Yang Xiong met him, tears immediately began streaming down his face.

“Shi Xiu!… I’m sorry. This fool who ignored your advice. Laugh for me. Please forgive me.” “Oh, it’s nothing. As long as you understand, Elder Brother, that’s all that matters. Just in case you had once more been persuaded by your wife’s words and come to resent this Shi Xiu instead, I found myself unable to leave this place until I could meet you again, Elder Brother, show you irrefutable evidence, and then take my leave… Well, just to be certain—take a look.”

With that, Shi Xiu took out Pei Ruhai’s dried-blood-stained headgear and robes, showed them before him, and declared that he now had no lingering regrets. “I shall return the Cup of Sworn Brotherhood,” he said. “With this, I’ll take my leave from another province.” “Wait!” Yang Xiong turned pale. “The Cup of Sworn Brotherhood is not such a frivolous thing.” “Even if you’re satisfied with that, my conscience won’t rest.” Yang Xiong’s manhood would not stand. “Wait one more day.” “Elder Brother.” “What exactly are you planning if we wait?”

“I will have my wife Qiaoyun apologize to you. I’m sorry, but could you come to Cuiping Mountain outside the city gates tomorrow afternoon?”

“Cuiping Mountain? That remote mountaintop?” “Exactly—I’ll be waiting without fail. Though it’s been ages since we last drank together, this weight in our chests would sour the taste. Let’s settle matters tomorrow first. Shi Xiu—don’t be late.” With these words firmly repeated, Yang Xiong took his leave.

The next day, Shi Xiu tied his travel bundle diagonally across his back,

“Old man. You’ve been a real help. Back to being a wandering crow. See ya.”

paid the inn fee and left. Be that as it may, he seemed intent on no longer remaining in Jizhou.

Cuiping Mountain lay outside Jizhou's east gate, twenty li into the outskirts. The entire mountain was a graveyard—tall grasses, thickets of birch and poplar, paths strewn with jumbled stones. Along the way stood neither temple nor hermitage; it was said there was only a dilapidated mountain temple at the summit…

“Hey.” “Sedan chair carriers?” “The ones over there—” “Oh, we’re sedan chair carriers.” “We’ve brought Master Yang and his wife here…” “They said they’d finish their prayers at the mountain temple, so told us to wait at the foot.” “So here we all are, leisurely enjoying some sake as arranged.” “That’s good.” “It’s such a rare fine day.” “The sake can be savored elegantly.” “So Mr. and Mrs. Yang Xiong have already arrived ahead of me, then?”

“They’ve long been on the mountain.” “A bit late, was I?” Shi Xiu hastened his steps. The valley and birdsong both sank below his gaze. “Hey, Elder Brother.” “Ah, you came, Shi Xiu.” “Seems I kept you waiting. My apologies, my apologies. But what happened? Where’s Sister-in-law?” “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” “But what have you done?” “Sister-in-law—?” “Qiaoyun?” “She’s nowhere to be seen, is she?” “No—she’s here.” “I’ll let you meet her now… But first—what a desolate scene.” “Won’t you have a drink to catch your breath?”

“The sedan chair carriers at the foot of the mountain were drinking too.” “Ever since I saw that, my throat’s been parched.” “May I have a drink?” Sitting side by side before the mountain temple, they quickly emptied the two gourds of wine Yang Xiong had brought.

“Well…” Yang Xiong was the first to rise to his feet. “Now then, Shi Xiu. Let me have you meet Qiaoyun.”

“Oh. Where is she?” “She’s behind here.”

A few steps. ――Shi Xiu froze there, startled.

A half-naked woman was bound to the trunk of a giant tree.

It was Qiaoyun. A short distance away, Ying’er—the young maidservant still bearing rope marks—lay tossed into the bushes. “Elder Brother, what in heaven’s name is this?…” “As agreed, I’ll make Qiaoyun apologize to you… Dragging my wife here was no simple task—she resisted every step with excuses. But for two nights running, the mountain temple’s deity appeared in my dreams. It commanded us to wash away all evils by today and renew our marital vows… So I cleverly lured her out under that pretense.”

“That’s all well and good, but why on earth is this such an excessively cruel punishment?” “Cruel?” Yang Xiong retorted. “…Hmph. You’re just saying that out of duty to me, Yang Xiong. But Shi Xiu—in your heart of hearts, you wouldn’t be satisfied even tearing her limb from limb. You must have heard the town’s vulgar ballads. ‘Yang Xiong, the Ailing Guansuo, is already a ruined man in Jizhou.’ You should drop such formalities already.”

“Hey, Qiaoyun,” he said, taking a step closer to the woman. “Hey! Confess everything and apologize to my sworn brother! Not only did you repeatedly deceive your husband, but you also falsely accused Shi Xiu—constantly spouting nonsense about him pestering you with unwanted advances, didn’t you?”

“……I’m sorry! That was entirely my momentary fabrication. Brother Xiu… please make amends to my husband. I beg of you…” “Don’t jest with me. A wife’s misdeeds shall be settled by her husband—that’s me. Whatever Shi Xiu might say changes nothing—I won’t endure this now. …Shi Xiu—you did bring the evidence items, yes?” “This here?”

Shi Xiu untied the bundle on his back and flung it down. It was Pei Ruhai’s priestly robe and hood. The moment she laid eyes on it, Qiaoyun—her alabaster skin erupting in goosebumps, the roots of her hair standing on end—turned her face away.

“You remember this. You can’t pretend you don’t know, Qiaoyun.” “Qiaoyun.” “P-please have mercy!” “You… we were once so deeply in love.” “I beg you—remember that one more time.” “It’s because I remember that I can’t forgive you.” “How dare you drag my manhood through the mud!” “And try to sever the bond between sworn brothers!” “You’ve no need for these in your hair anymore.” With that, Yang Xiong tore away her pearl combs, golden hairpins, and ornaments—hurling them all to the ground—then drew the sword from his waist.

When she saw the naked blade, Qiaoyun let out a shrill whimper and began weeping bitterly. Struggling against her inescapable bonds, her half-naked white flesh writhed and swelled as the ropes bit into her skin.

“Shi Xiu.” “I’ll hand this sword to you.” “Take your full revenge.” “No!” Shi Xiu shook his head. “Even if she’s a wicked wife—she remains your spouse, Elder Brother, let alone a woman bound by circumstance—” “Do you still show mercy?” “Is that where your virtue lies?” “But keeping such a woman alive would only let her poison the world again.” “Fine! I’ll do it myself!”

Pressed with the white blade’s tip, Qiaoyun let out a scream, her hair whipping wildly. She curled her toes and stood on tiptoe, furrowed her brows, stretched her throat, and let out a piercing scream. Her frenzied state resembled that of a wanton woman who, having removed a pillow suffused with aphrodisiac incense at the peak of ecstasy, lets out a gasp that mingles deathly breath with a cry, her alabaster skin glistening with sweat—a visage utterly divorced from reality, akin to the fleeting apparitions of manas-consciousness.* Perhaps, in that moment, a phantom image invisible to others had superimposed itself over her form within the mind of her husband, Yang Xiong.

“Shut up!” he roared, though the sword tip only lightly pricked the writhing nape of her neck—a mere nick. Blood streaked out like crimson silk threads. Yet she emitted an exaggerated moan,

“Help meee!” “I don’t want to die!” “Murderer!” “He-e-elp! Someone, help!” she kept screaming, her voice hoarse. Witnessing this scene, Ying’er—still bound by ropes—leapt out from the bushes and tried to flee. In a flash, Yang Xiong leapt and cut Ying’er down, then without pause swung that bloodied sword— “Woman, perish in regret!”

and pierced through Qiaoyun’s heart. The moment he saw the blood, he himself—perhaps intoxicated by that frenzied haze—hacked the woman’s half-naked body from her torso down to her skirts into tatters of crimson, then stood as if possessed, dazed and unresponsive for some time, the bloodied sword still dangling from his hand. “...Elder Brother, you’ve gone and done it at last.”

“I made up my mind long before,” said Yang Xiong. “Before I even left home this morning.” “We can’t stay in Jizhou anymore,” countered Shi Xiu. “Not even if it were your wife or a maid.” “Well,” Yang Xiong declared, “since I’ve killed someone, I must see this through. I’ll surrender honorably.”

“Don’t be absurd,” “Stop such foolishness.” “Would a man of your stature really squander his entire life to atone for some adulteress’s mischief?”

“Then what should this Yang Xiong do?” “I’m still young.” “I’ve given nothing to society—only glimpsed its outermost edges.”

“How about it? Shall we go to Liangshan Marsh?”

“Huh? To Liangshan Marsh?” “I hear men of righteous courage gather there like clouds—Song Jiang the Timely Rain of Shandong at their head—and they say they’ve been seeking new comrades of late.”

“But without any connections...” “No—when you and I swore brotherhood that time, there were two men at a tavern in town with whom we exchanged passing nods.” “One was Divine Messenger Dai Zong of Liangshan Marsh, the other Brocade Leopard Yang Lin.” “Let’s count on those two and go.”

“Are you certain? Are those people reliable?”

“In fact, at that time, I received ten taels of silver from Dai Zong himself.” “Those ten taels remain here.” “Elder Brother, when you consider how matters have unfolded, does it not seem as though some strange thread tugs at our destinies from somewhere?”

“Let’s go! Save the deep talk for the road.”

“Then let’s leave right from here.” “If we linger too long, the sedan bearers we left waiting at the foot of the mountain might come up here.” “Hey, the woman’s comb and hairpins can add to our travel funds—pick those up too.” Wiping the blood from his sword and sheathing it, Yang Xiong watched as Shi Xiu retied his travel pack to his back—it was just as they began to walk along the ridge, seeking another path.

“I saw it! I saw it!” “So, Chief Yang of the Jizhou prison office.” “There’s someone here—and these ears of mine heard everything!” “And your little discussion about fleeing to Liangshan Marsh too, huh?” “Heh heh heh.”

Who could it be? There was someone who had laughed defiantly somewhere. It was an unusually presumptuous way of speaking.

The Zhu Family’s Three Heroes were greatly enraged when their Timekeeping Rooster had been devoured by fleas.

At this very moment. Who was there? Yang Xiong and Shi Xiu were startled and turned to look behind them at the tree's shadow— But when they saw the man who had swooped before their eyes as if swimming, bowing with demonic-like bowing, "What the hell, you bastard! Scaring people like that!" Yang Xiong, unable to muster his anger, instead burst into uproarious laughter. "Who do I find but you bastard—none other than that petty thief Drumming Flea Shi Qian?"

“Yes, it’s me—Shi Qian the Flea.” “Well, well. Fancy meeting you here of all places.” “Mr. Chief of the Prison.”

“You… You saw everything from the shadows, didn’t you?” “Was that not allowed? I just happened to overhear your entire discussion about fleeing to Liangshan Marsh.”

“It’s too late to say we shouldn’t have done it… Shi Xiu, what should we do?” “This flea guy—” “Flea Guy, huh? You’ve put it quite cleverly.” “Just who is that man?” Thereupon, Yang Xiong explained thus. Due to his former occupation up until yesterday, he had handled many prisoners over the years, but a man like this Shi Qian—nicknamed Drumming Flea—was rarely known. He was born in Gaotang Prefecture—though his origins were obscure—and was a vagrant who was often arrested and brought into Jizhou’s prison, only to leave again shortly after. For his crimes were generally minor offenses, and unlike other criminals, there were neither victims nor accusers.

As for how he earned his living—it seemed he would dig up graves here and there, find grave goods (beloved items buried alongside the deceased) like jewels and gold or silver, then peddle them at market. Of course, even that was a serious crime, but since there were no instances of him being caught at the scene, they arrested him for other minor offenses. However, even when in prison, he remained quite the charmer among the inmates. Moreover, once he grew tired of his cell, he would vanish without a trace on a whim—which might make it sound as though the prison had no boundaries, but that was not the case. From the start, this Drumming Flea had been a once-in-a-generation master of ninja-like stealth, with bones as soft as cartilage and a body that could contract like a sea cucumber. Furthermore, when the mood struck him, he treated the prison as his own home and would return of his own accord. And since he was a man who had never once harmed a living soul in society, even the jailers and fellow prisoners all laughed and watched his antics—such was the peculiar nature of this odd character.

“I see. He’s quite the odd one.”

Shi Xiu, having finished listening, once again reassessed Shi Qian’s appearance. Indeed, his face was oddly charming and petite. His eyes were narrow, as if wary of sunlight; his face was covered in coarse, brownish hair, and when he smiled, his unnervingly aligned teeth gleamed white as blades. “Elder Brother.”

And Shi Xiu brought his mouth close to Yang Xiong’s ear, “...This one also has a skill. “Killing him would be a waste. But if we let him live, there’s also the risk he’ll blab to the world about the deeds we two did there—all the way down to where we’re headed.” “...What do you think—instead, how about inviting him to Liangshan Marsh and taking him along with us?”

Then, though it should have been inaudible, Shi Qian leapt up in delight. “Please! Take me with you! For someone like me, this is exactly what I’ve been praying for! I know a secret path from this mountain to Liangshan Marsh that bypasses Jizhou! Let this Shi Qian guide your way!”

“Huh?!” exclaimed the two in surprise. “Shi Qian. Can you really hear even our whispered conversation like that from where you are?” “Well now,” Shi Qian replied, “I don’t know how to put it, but ever since I was a child, my hearing’s been sharp enough to catch the footsteps of ants.” “That’s unsettling,” they muttered. “Well, whatever—this must be fate’s doing. We can’t afford to linger here any longer. Hey—which way’s this secret path you mentioned?”

“Well then, come along this way, sirs.” With that, Shi Qian pointed toward the secret path and took the lead—thus concluding the scene of “the killing of Pan Qiaoyun” at Cuiping Mountain, which would later become the talk of all Jizhou. As their journey progressed, the trio of Yang Xiong, Shi Xiu, and Shi Qian had already neared Yunzhou’s border. It was around that day when they passed through a village called Xianglinwa and gazed up at a towering mountain where rice-pounding echoes drifted from afar.

“Oh! Here’s a stylish inn for ya!”

Their legs were somewhat worn out. When the trio approached, they saw that the countryside was indeed rural—a crumbled earthen wall and a thatched roof facing the highway. However, enveloped by a hundred willow trees—it not only looked like a painting—on the entrance couplets (pillar hangings) were written: The garden lies tranquil, receiving at dusk guests from Five Lakes. The door stands wide, welcoming at dawn visitors from Three Islands.

And one line each of poetic verse was inscribed on the left and right.

“...Hey there, guests. With that look on your face, can you even read those couplets?”

The young male inn attendant who was sweeping the gate said. “I can’t read it...” Yang Xiong retorted irritably. “The calligraphy style is quite good, but whose handwriting is this, anyway?” “This is Patriarch Zhu Chaofeng’s own handwriting!” “A calligrapher, is he?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s the master of the manor who rules over three hundred li in all directions around here! In other words, he’s the great local lord. You’d better pay your respects properly.” “Hahaha! This is my first time seeing an inn like this.”

Laughing, the three were led to their room. Generally at that time, self-catering was customary. Rice, miso, meat, vegetables, and as much wine as one wanted to drink—all had to be purchased with cash. They cooked that using pots and pans borrowed from the inn. Yang Xiong then took out the hairpin he had plucked from Qiaoyun’s hair and used it as an advance payment for provisions. And since the young man from earlier seemed like he’d be good company, they soon began drinking in a circle of four with him included. As they did so, Shi Xiu suddenly noticed something strange. In the narrow earthen space before entering the kitchen—a cooking area—over a dozen long swords were lined up in a row. He couldn’t help being curious, so he ended up asking the young man.

“There are some fine swords here.” “During our journey, I’ve been feeling terribly vulnerable without a sword at my waist.” “Could you sell me one?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” the young man chuckled. “Each and every one of those has a number assigned to it. If one goes missing, it’ll be a huge problem.” “First of all, they’re not for sale.” “Then why on earth do you keep them displayed like that?” “Don’t you know, you guests? “Around here, we’re already close to the notorious Liangshan Marsh, so you never know when those bandits might come raiding. That’s why we’ve got these prepared as a precaution.”

The three men furtively exchanged glances. The young inn attendant remained oblivious to this, and whether aided by his tipsy mood from the wine, he chattered away—boasting about “my home region’s” local pride and launching into a grand speech extolling “our lord,” the local ruler they served. According to him, Dusk. The towering mountain seen in the distance from these eaves was called Dulong Mountain, and halfway up its slopes lived for generations the powerful clan of Zhu Chaofeng, who ruled this region. As for that Zhu family, in society,

the Zhu Family’s Three Heroes The Zhu family had three outstanding sons respectfully referred to as the Three Heroes, while at the base of the mountain, there were villages of various tribes—some with one hundred households, others two hundred, and even six or seven hundred households arranged throughout. Moreover, they held tenant farmer settlements hundreds of *li* beyond, so their power and wealth were said to rival even that of kings and princes governing entire states. “...Oh no." “I drank too much and talked way too much.” “I’m sorry, you guests.” “Please, take your time.”

The young man retreated to his own bedroom. Had they obediently gone to sleep then, the later commotion might never have occurred.—However, when they saw Shi Qian—the bat-like man who had vanished at some point—wander back, he held in his hand a chicken—or rather, a plucked and naked bird that he had roasted whole somewhere, now dangling from his grip. “Hey, Drum on the Flea—where’d you get that?” “Hehehe. Well, actually, when I went to the outhouse earlier, I peeked through a small window. ...I thought it was a quail cage, but to my surprise, there was a chicken being kept inside. I looked around and saw no one was there, so I quickly wrung its neck and roasted it up.”

“So you went and helped yourself, eh?” “Hmm, looks like this rascal’s headed back to Jizhou Prison again.” When Yang Xiong cracked a joke, Shi Xiu laughed along.

“Nah—it’s no use, Elder Brother. For him, it’s his stock-in-trade. This habit will never quit.” Now seeing this perfect feast before them, their spirits were freshly roused. Tearing into the whole roasted chicken, the three drank even more and stayed up late carousing until they finally fell fast asleep.

Then, around the time of the Fifth Watch.

“Hey! Guests, wake up.” “Aren’t you up yet, huh? Hey!” There was a man shouting in a threatening tone by their pillows. The three men awoke simultaneously and looked up abruptly to see the young inn attendant standing there, gripping a club in his hand. “—It was you lot who ate that important chicken, wasn’t it?” he shouted angrily.

“What do I know about such a thing?!” Shi Qian, being the culprit, couldn’t hide his flustered look. “Hey, don’t go making wild accusations at guests!” “Oh, you rascal! Now you’re playing innocent!” “If I don’t know something, I can only say I don’t know.”

“Don’t mess with me! You can’t hide your head while leaving your tail exposed—look at those chicken bones you left scattered right there!”

“Oh. This?” “This isn’t even a thing! Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?” “So after all, did we end up eating it while we were drunk? I don’t remember a thing from last night. But it’s just a single chicken. We can pay for it, right?” “Not a chance. This chicken isn’t just any ordinary chicken. It’s called the Timekeeping Rooster—it flawlessly announces the Fifth Watch, making it a communal treasure in these parts. Now bring it back alive!” “Don’t be unreasonable. We aren’t magicians, you know.”

“Then you’re just Liangshan Marsh’s underlings!” “You came sneaking in to spy on us!”

“What did you say?” “That’s right—it must be! Just recently, the manor itself had issued a decree warning us to stay vigilant because shady characters had been prowling around this Zhu Family Manor. Alright then! We’ll seize all three of you and drag you to the esteemed gates of Dulong Ridge’s Great Master—mark my words!”

“What are you—?” With the force of Shi Qian’s slap, the young man staggered out with a thud.—But outside the room, neighbors had already come to reinforce him. With heavy thuds, a crowd of men armed with weapons came rushing in. A fierce struggle ensued. Yang Xiong and Shi Xiu, barely managing to throw off their opponents, seized one nodachi each from the weapon rack in the dirt-floored room and fled outside.—Yet no matter how far they ran, "Flea" Shi Qian showed no sign of catching up from behind. ——Had he been caught? They grew worried. When they looked back, one of the inns was engulfed in blazing flames from a morning blaze. Moreover, shouts from dozens more men now pursued them.

“Let’s cut our losses,” they resolved. “We can’t let ourselves get trussed up by those Zhu Family Manor dogs over one flea.”

They left the main road and deliberately ran into a side path. That could indeed be said to have been a mistake. After getting hopelessly lost, they came across another tavern. They were on empty stomachs before breakfast, and a "what the hell" mentality also played its part. They entered as if muttering "Excuse us," feigned ignorance, filled their stomachs, and asked about the way.

And. "Well, shall we get going?" Just as they began to rise, a one-eyed giant with a gouged socket slipped through the doorway—ill-timed indeed. The terrifying face—half pulled taut from cheek to eyelid— "Oh?"

No sooner had he turned to look at Yang Xiong’s back than he raised his voice even louder and called out to stop them. “Oh! The jailer from Jizhou prison office!” “Ah, right! You there—sir, aren’t you the jailer they call Sick Guan Suo?” The one who had called out was a man from Zhongshan Prefecture named Du Xing, known by the nickname “Ghost-Faced Child” due to his disfigured eye. This Du Xing had been captured during a riot in Jizhou and, even after later becoming a pardoned prisoner, had relied on Yang Xiong’s care for some time.

Yang Xiong had completely forgotten, but amidst the conversation, he finally remembered,

“Ah—you’re one from that riot? What a strange place to meet.” “That’s me—Du Xing the Ghost-Faced Child. I was among those rioters. You were Jizhou’s executioner. I’d honestly resigned myself to rust on Sick Guan Suo’s blade being my end, yet even after my pardon, you showed me extraordinary kindness.” “Did I really do such things?” “You may have forgotten, sir, but I haven’t. Yet what brings a man of your stature as Sick Guan Suo Yang Xiong to hurry about in such a place?”

“To tell the truth, I’m no longer an official of Jizhou. Due to certain circumstances, I had to kill my wife Qiaoyun and fled here with two companions. But that fellow Shi Qian who was traveling with us caused a commotion by stealing and eating the ‘Timekeeping Rooster’ at the Zhu Family Manor’s inn last night.” “Ah, I’ve heard about the morning fire incident. When I heard about it, they say he went and scattered hearth fire all over the house too, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know the full story after that, but it seems that bastard got captured by a whole mob.” “His capture’s certain.” “On my way here, I saw a man trussed up like a ball being hauled toward Dulong Mountain.” “But set your mind at ease.” “If he’s a companion of my benefactor’s party, there might still be means to rescue him.” “Hmm—and what brings you to this area now?”

“I neglected to mention earlier—thanks to your help, I drifted here afterward and am now employed by one of the manors under Dulong Mountain’s local lord clan with the nominal title of ronin bodyguard.” “So it is indeed part of Zhu Chaofeng’s clan?” “That’s correct.—To elaborate: Zhu Chaofeng heads the main family of local magnates. To the west foothills lies Hu Family Manor, and to the east Li Family Manor. These three clans have secured this region spanning three hundred *li* in all directions.” “That’s formidable influence.”

“Moreover, Zhu Chaofeng has three outstanding sons known as the Three Heroes of the Zhu Clan. The western tribe’s Hu Family Manor boasts a skilled son named Hu Cheng—the Flying Tiger—and his younger sister Hu Sanniang—Ten Feet of Green—a peerless maiden who wields twin swords called Sun and Moon from horseback…”

“And who is this master you serve?” “The one who maintains another residence on the eastern foothills as head of the same clan—in other words, that person is the master of Li Family Manor… He is a master of the Chaotic Flames spear technique, and on the battlefield conceals five Flying Flash Knives on his back, possessing a divine skill to strike down men from a hundred paces away.” “Then this master of the Li family you mention… Could he be none other than Li Ying, the Sky-Smiting Eagle, who circulates so prominently in society’s rumors?”

“That’s right!” he boasted. “He is a great man. He is what the world calls a righteous hero. Please, do meet him once. And if you explain the circumstances regarding your companion and make the request, he will surely agree.”

“But we’re strangers here, and you’re just a retainer. What do you think?” “No, no—to tell the truth, Master Li Ying and I, Du Xing, share a heartfelt commitment to our future.” “Though I’ve long served nominally as a bodyguard-retainer, he confides in me alone about all matters—good or ill. ……At any rate, come to Li Family Manor.” “You may weigh your plans there.” Urged by Du Xing, his benefactors Yang Xiong and Shi Xiu were then guided from that spot to Li Family Manor, where he resided.

“I see.” Both Yang Xiong and Shi Xiu marveled when they arrived here.

Based at the mountain's base and surrounded by a wide moat with a thousand pines and ten thousand willows, the path to the gate was a drawbridge. Beyond the main gate stood an inner gate—its white walls towered high with towers stacked upon towers containing armories and stable quarters—leaving nothing wanting. Furthermore, Li Ying himself possessed a demeanor that matched his reputation. "I have just now heard the full account from Du Xing," he said. "None other than Du Xing's benefactor." "In place of Du Xing himself, I must repay this longstanding debt of gratitude."

As soon as he appeared in the guest hall, he first spoke and reassured Yang Xiong and Shi Xiu. He immediately called a scribe and instructed: “Address it to the main family. Write it politely.” He dictated the request and had a letter drafted. When finished, he personally signed and sealed it, entrusted it to a different retainer, and promptly sent them off to Zhu Chaofeng’s residence at the main family manor with urgent haste. “Well… Your companion will soon be retrieved and return,” he said. “It’s nothing serious—please make yourselves comfortable in the meantime.”

At Li Ying’s instructions, lunch was served. Li Ying—having heard Du Xing’s account of Yang Xiong’s righteousness and observed Shi Xiu’s character, perhaps deeming them true heroes—repeatedly brought up topics like staff techniques and spears, his enthusiasm appearing insatiable. However—the report brought back by the messenger soon furrowed his brows deeply.—His polite letter had been crushed in the hands of the main family’s sons, their reply stating: “The criminal captured at our subordinate’s inn is Liangshan Marsh’s agent; we cannot entrust him to others. We will hand him over to the magistrate ourselves,” they declared brusquely, even brandishing a sword in rejection—and he returned empty-handed.

“What mistake could this be?” “Centered on the Zhu family, with Hu Family Manor to the west and my Li Family Manor to the east—we three clans are kin united as one body.” “…Ah, Du Xing—this may stem from the messenger’s ineptitude.” “Why don’t you go yourself this time to meet Patriarch Zhu Chaofeng and negotiate directly with him?” “Understood.” “If you grant me leave.”

“Wait—it’s a precaution.” Li Ying took flower-patterned stationery and once again personally penned a letter more courteous than the previous one, then even affixed his seal, and had Du Xing carry it. Du Xing mounted his horse and hurried off to the Zhu clan’s stronghold at Dulonggang Manor on the mountainside.

Afterward, with a troubled expression, Li Ying changed the drinks and kept up miscellaneous conversation with the two men, but even that—

"This is taking too long. What could have happened?" Before long, that initial tinge of unease turned into a heavy anxiety that only grew with time.

Just then. Hurriedly, one of the servants stumbled in here. ——It was reported that Du Xing had spurred his horse and returned. Li Ying immediately—

“Did he bring someone with him?”

When he asked, “No—he’s alone,” the servant trembled and replied.

"So it has come to this—"

When they all rose and went to the middle gate to look, sure enough—as if he had been beaten to a pulp upon returning—Du Xing stood dejectedly by his horse, his face swollen purple, blood dripping from his gums, brushing mud from his clothes.

The desperate bird, having entered Liangshan Marsh, indeed finally led to the Marsh Forces taking action. Dulong Mountain was not a particularly distant region from Liangshan Marsh. Naturally, they entered a state of confrontation. Moreover, the momentum of Liangshan Marsh grew stronger with each passing day. Paranoia reigned; those throughout Zhu Family Manor were strictly on guard, fearing they might be gradually eroded away by them. In particular, Zhu Chaofeng’s eldest son Zhu Long, second son Zhu Hu, and third son Zhu Biao—these three brothers—regarded Liangshan Marsh as an enemy before their very eyes and ordered their subordinates across the territory to capture without mercy any suspicious individuals who entered.

The second envoy Du Xing ventured again to where they maintained this resolute stance. As expected, Zhu Chaofeng refused to grant him audience. Those who emerged were the aforementioned three brothers styled as the "Three Heroes of the Zhu Family"—who would not deign to so much as glance at Li Ying's personally penned letter. "We said we won't surrender him—and we won't!" They clung obstinately to this position until finally demanding: "You—are you too in league with Liangshan Marsh?" "Or did those marsh-dwellers stuff your nostrils with silver powder?"

Such abusive remarks. Du Xing was frustrated, but facing the Zhu family’s honorable young masters, he could not even muster anger; he had no choice but to earnestly explain the circumstances and devote himself to pleading and argumentation. “Enough!” Was the third son Zhu Biao simply a hothead? As if to say “Get out!”, he suddenly kicked Du Xing away. Du Xing finally lost his temper and argued that they knew too little of the bonds between the three families of Dulong Mountain and the duty of kinship. This only further incited the hot-blooded brothers—Zhu Hu, the second son, reportedly tore up Li Ying’s letter and hurled it back.

“Such… such unreasonable treatment.” And now, Du Xing—embracing the burning heat of his face, swollen purple—wept before Li Ying, Yang Xiong, and Shi Xiu as he recounted his bitter frustration. “...This one could not remain silent either. “First, when I declared that I could not simply return after they had insulted my master Lord Li Ying as if it were nothing, they summoned a crowd of retainers and ganged up on me, then bound me haphazardly onto my horse’s back. Thus, with no other choice, I endured the humiliation and returned under such circumstances.”

When he had heard every detail, even Li Ying finally bristled with anger and spoke.

“I can no longer endure this!” “Lately those brats of the main family—the so-called Three Heroes of the Zhu Family—have grown conceited from their title and now even look down upon elders of our own clan.” “Hey! Fetch the horses!” “Men!”

In an instant, he armed himself and mounted his horse. He wore a lion-faced breastplate and donned a gold-plated steel helmet; tucked into his back were five Flying Flash Knives while he gripped a long spear in hand. And like an enraged phoenix, he dashed toward Dulong Hill.

“This is a grave crisis for our master!” Two or three hundred Zhuang soldiers kept galloping after him, and neither Yang Xiong nor Shi Xiu could simply stand watching. Together they gave chase from behind. At the Zhu family’s main gate halfway up the mountain, defenders seemed to have detected them already. They hurriedly fortified three layers of walls and two manor gates, frantically sounding gongs, drums, and flutes—until suddenly across the castle gate’s drawbridge erupted a glaring standoff between them and their kinsman Li Ying’s forces.

“Hear me! You Zhu brats, come out here!”

When Li Ying shouted, “Oh ho! What’s this? “Uncle from the foothills!” Then Zhu Biao, the third son—wearing a thin metal helmet with gold-inlaid lotus leaves and chainmail armor adorned with red plum blossom patterns, mounted atop a white horse with crimson tassels—emerged through the castle gate at the head of a hundred men, his three-pronged spear flamboyantly displayed.

“So it’s you, Biao.” “Hey! Since when did you learn such insolent talk?” “Does that mouth of yours still smell of your mother’s milk?” “First and foremost, your father and this Li Ying are blood kin that cannot be severed!” “By family hierarchy, I honor the Zhu Family as the main house—but by bloodline, you brats are what I call my nephews... Yet what is this?” “Ha ha ha ha!” “Uncle of the Li Family.” “Don’t strain yourself.” “Aren’t you already wheezing for breath?” “Let me finish your lines! —You want us to surrender that bat-faced petty thief Shi Qian, Liangshan’s spy who fell into our brothers’ grasp, don’t you?” “How could we possibly return him without resistance?” “Liangshan Marsh is enemy territory to our Zhu Family Manor!”

“Shut your mouth, fool!” “What do you mean by ‘fool’? So even you, Uncle of the Li Family, have been swayed by greed and become a backer of thieves now?”

“Listen well! That man Shi Qian is no such villain!” “Deny it all you want—the wretch himself confessed under torture! He admitted being lured by those companions of yours, Yang Xiong and Shi Xiu, while journeying to Liangshan Marsh! No room for doubt remains! —And if you demand his return, it reeks of the Li Family’s complicity! Have you become Liangshan’s lackeys plotting to usurp our main family’s position?” “Impudent whelp! Let me tell you—” “—What’s this, old fool?”

Zhu Biao’s crimson figure charged at Li Ying like blazing flames. Li Ying’s long spear and his opponent’s trident clashed together, ringing out as they flashed with lightning-like light. In an instant, both forces were thrown into chaos—war drums and battle cries roared in unison—leaving neither side able to retreat. Then from the watchtower atop the castle walls, Zhu Hu, the Zhu family’s second son, released a single arrow that struck Li Ying square in the back with a heavy thud, sending him tumbling from his horse.

“Ah! Ah!”

Yang Xiong and Shi Xiu were astonished and rushed over. “This is bad! We can’t let this man die because of us!”

They hoisted him onto the horse’s back. Though the resolute Li Ying kept shouting something—“Fall back for now!”—the entire force poured back toward the foothills.

Li Ying’s arrow wound was quite deep, but fortunately had avoided vital organs. Shi Xiu and Yang Xiong attended that person’s sickroom throughout the night. As they kept repeating “We’re so sorry,” Li Ying on his sickbed— “...What need for apologies? If anyone should apologize—it’s me. I readily accepted your request yet failed this duty of honor. Worse still, I’ve exposed my own kinsmen’s disgrace before you. Truly, I’ve lost all face.” He grimaced, managing only pained groans.

Indeed, it was impossible to tell from what trivial matters unforeseen calamities might arise. That Shi Qian—the Flea on the Drum—had casually swiped an inn’s Timekeeping Rooster, and that the three of them had devoured it as a drinking snack—such a minor incident could lead to a disaster of this magnitude... Yang Xiong and Shi Xiu could only bite their lips in bitter regret. Moreover, the incident showed no sign of ending here. A deep rift had split the kinship between the Zhu clan and the Li Family. To make matters worse, Liangshan Marsh’s very existence further inflamed mutual hostilities, and the three Zhu brothers—driven by their suspicions—were secretly plotting multi-layered strategies to bring thorough oppression upon the Li Family.

“Ah, this is such a mess,” Yang Xiong groaned. “This was no longer a matter we could resolve by simply withdrawing from here.” “What should we do?” “Shi Xiu.” “We can’t just stand by either.” At Yang Xiong’s anguished sigh, Shi Xiu finally proposed his own idea.

“In that case, why don’t you and I go to Liangshan Marsh and submit an emergency petition?” “After all, the enemy is formidable—the two of us alone can’t stand a chance against them.”

“Hmm… An emergency petition.” “Very well.” “But first, we must consult Du Xing and seek Lord Li Ying’s counsel as well.” Promptly, they had Du Xing convey this to the bedridden Li Ying. Li Ying had been thinking all day—perhaps he had resigned himself to the Li Family’s self-destruction if things continued this way. He did not oppose. And all he could do was deeply apologize from his sickbed for failing to fulfill the sole duty of rescuing Shi Qian.

At Liangshan Marsh’s assembly hall on that day, the constellation of heroes were gathered, and a grand council was convened.

Yang Xiong and Shi Xiu’s “emergency petition” was now being taken up as the agenda.

Chao Gai, the leader, cast the first vote.

“Very well, understood,” said Chao Gai to the assembled council members. “I shall approve the admission of these two. However”—his voice grew stern—“regarding Yang Xiong and Shi Xiu’s backgrounds and personal guarantees—under whose recommendation have they come?” “Dai Zong,” replied Wu Yong at his side, his tone measured yet deferential. “When Dai Zong journeyed to Jizhou some time ago, he became acquainted with Shi Xiu. As Shi Xiu’s sworn brother, Yang Xiong was brought along as well.” Chao Gai cut through the murmurs of assent. “But”—he wheeled back to face Wu Yong—“is there not a third among their company? This ‘Flea on the Drum’ Shi Qian?” Disgust curled his lip. “A petty thief who’d filch and feast upon a Timekeeping Rooster... A vagrant scum devoid of civic virtue! Such vermin have no place in Liangshan Marsh!”

“However, when you hear the particulars, he does possess skills and they say his character is fundamentally decent.” “But you,” Chao Gai retorted, his face coloring slightly as he countered Wu Yong’s mediation, “we of Liangshan Marsh—since condemning Wang Lun here—have revered righteousness, upheld benevolence toward society, and taken care not to draw the people’s censure or resentment through cruelty. Have we not sworn before the Temple of Heavenly Stars and Earthly Pacts to live joyfully as one family—without distinction between veteran and new comrades—bound by harmony and valor?” “Such a flea-infested louse called Flea on the Drum—we cannot possibly admit him!” “All the more reason to refuse!” “To mobilize our forces here for such a man’s sake is utterly unthinkable.” “We cannot entertain this petition.”

“But with all due respect to your words,”

Then, Timely Rain Song Jiang, who had remained silent until then, spoke up for the first time here.

“I cannot entirely agree,” Song Jiang countered. “Even if we call him Flea on the Drum, he remains a human life. Moreover, his capture stemmed from nothing more than the trivial mischief of filching and eating that ‘Timekeeping Rooster.’ Yet now the Zhu Family Manor loudly slanders us as Liangshan Marsh’s spies.” Chao Gai—who always maintained deferential respect for Song Jiang—curved his lips in a faint smile. “Deputy Chief… You’ve shown uncharacteristic fervor about this matter from the outset. Why such passion over so minor an incident?”

“No—this matter may appear trivial, but it carries within it a grave issue for the future. For the forces of Dulong Mountain’s Three Manors—beginning with the Three Heroes of the Zhu Clan—are fated, by their proximity to us here, the terrain, and all other conditions, to inevitably clash with our Liangshan Marsh and settle supremacy.” “Hmm, hmm.”

At this, Wu Yong, Dai Zong, Qin Ming, and Lin Chong—all seated in a row beside them—nodded deeply.

“Moreover… As chieftain of local despots, Zhu Chaofeng wrings every drop of sweat from peasants under his rule, glutting his treasuries until he tires of opulence—yet beneath it all, he still hungers for the glory of official rank.” “…At the first chance, he’ll guide government troops to crush Liangshan Marsh and use that feat to grovel before the authorities.—To seize the initiative and break them ourselves—now’s the perfect tide! Even that trifle caused by Flea on the Drum will instead make a fine pretext and rallying cry.”

“……” “Moreover, though Liangshan Marsh has gathered many heroes over time and our soldiers, horses, and ships have grown vast in number, we’ve deliberately refrained from cruel plundering. As a result, our storehouses’ provisions and reserve funds have finally begun to dwindle.” “There—if we attack Zhu Family Manor and transfer their wealth here, we could amply maintain our forces for years to come.” “It would kill two—nay, three—birds with one stone. …Furthermore, I have another aim.” “To recruit Li Ying as an ally.” “It seems he suffered an unexpected injury from one of the Zhu clan’s sons—likely because he showed undue restraint in dealing with his own kin’s brats.” “Li Ying the Soaring Eagle is no ordinary man.” “He’s exceptional.” “He’s someone we should welcome with humble words.” “That alone would make this endeavor worthwhile.”

The entire assembly listened with rapt attention. Commander Chao Gai now listened in silence. The assembly’s countenance already showed unanimous agreement. Chao Gai finally spoke. “Understood. I leave everything to you, Master.”

“Thank you.” “Since I have pressed my argument this far, I myself will take the lead at the front lines for this campaign.” “As for preparations for deployment and complete formation of ranks, please have the Commander issue orders to Pei Xuan of the Military Administration Bureau.”

Thus was the grand strategy settled. The following day saw both a departure ceremony conducted and Yang Xiong and Shi Xiu's formal induction into the ranks announced concurrently. Their adversary stood as the Zhu clan - a power rivaling feudal kings in might. Five to six thousand troops would need be mobilized. For guarding the mountain stronghold, Commander Chao Gai remained alongside Liu Tang, Lü Fang, Guo Sheng and others to secure headquarters, while on the campaign front, all renowned heroes of note marched forth under Song Jiang's banner.

That is, with Song Jiang as commander-in-chief. And Wu Yong the Scholar as military administrator. Hua Rong, Li Jun, Mu Hong, Li Kui, Yang Xiong, Shi Xiu, Huang Xin, Ou Peng, Yang Lin. This was an army of three thousand men.

Next was the Second Army:

The Second Army consisted of Lin Chong, Qin Ming, Dai Zong, Zhang Heng, Zhang Shun, Ma Lin, Deng Fei, Wang Aihu, Bai Sheng, and others—over three thousand men. Three hundred cavalry each from the mobile forces then emerged between the two armies, their horses’ hooves clattering as they spread out vast and indistinct. All forces—alongside the provision ships—steadily boarded ship columns from Jinshatan’s shores and Yazuizatan’s piers, pushed across to the opposite shore, and there once again formed combat formations to hasten westward. After days passed, they had already arrived within Zhu Family Manor’s territory.

The shadow of Dulong Mountain—the enemy's stronghold—had already been discerned that day beyond the skyline, veiled within the daytime haze. “First comes reconnaissance.” Then Song Jiang had a tent set up as headquarters. As soon as he sat down on a crude chair, he and Hua Rong spread open a military map they tentatively called the Dulong Mountain Three Manors Map. “Brother Hua Rong—with just this, I can’t grasp it properly. Nor can I trust it enough to serve as a guideline for actual combat.” “Of course. After all, this isn’t a surveyed map—it’s merely a hastily prepared guide.”

“The Zhu Family Manor’s labyrinthine paths are notorious throughout the land,” said Song Jiang. “They must have made thorough preparations against unforeseen attacks. Few could advance beyond this perimeter.” “First, let us deploy a scout team,” proposed Hua Rong. “No—sending a large force would be unwise,” countered Song Jiang. “Our only option is to dispatch an inconspicuous probe.” At that moment, tent flaps parted violently as a face of reddish-black complexion thrust itself inside and spoke.

“Understood,” said Li Kui. “I’ll go investigate every path myself.” “Ah, Li Kui,” said Song Jiang. “You won’t do. Step back.” “Why not, Master?” “Your twin axes will have their moment too soon. Every man has his role.” “Is Black Whirlwind useless then?” “Step forward when we charge. Right—summon Shi Xiu and Yang Lin the Brocade Leopard here.”

Before long, the two were summoned and entered Song Jiang’s tent.

Yang Lin was said to be a master of the tube spear. He was one of the new comrades whom Dai Zong the Divine Messenger had recently brought to Liangshan Marsh from his journey along with Pei Xuan and others. Was he trying to test their abilities? Song Jiang assigned the role of reconnaissance to this man and Shi Xiu the Desperado. "Understood," Yang Lin said proudly, honored to have been chosen. "Now then, I'll conceal a single dagger in my robe and disguise myself as a traveling monk. Shi Xiu, you follow the sound of my staff and trail after me from a distance."

“No—merely following along lacks skill,” “Until recently, I was making a living as a firewood seller in Jizhou.” “I’ll disguise myself as a firewood seller and go.” “When push comes to shove, this carrying pole will come in handy.”

The two prepared their disguises that night and entered the village path at the break of dawn.

But here's the thing—they had ventured deep into the mountains. "Huh?" In their panic, they turned back thinking they'd reached the village, yet not a single house came into view. "This is strange..." Shi Xiu tilted his head. They couldn't even determine the direction where Li Ying's manor should have stood. For over half a day—and longer still—they trudged until their legs turned to leadwood poles, as if they'd stumbled into a ring of riddles or a maze-like thicket... At last, beneath a great roadside tree, he lowered his carrying pole and slumped down to massage his legs.

Then from behind came the clang-clang of a monk’s staff. Shi Xiu found the figure’s appearance comical. This one too looked as though possessed by a fox spirit. Grasping the brim of his tattered sedge hat, he shuffled forward without vigor, eyes darting restlessly along the path as he approached.

“Hey, Yang Lin. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Shi Xiu. I’m about to collapse… No matter how far we walk, all that lines the way are rows of trees. Haven’t even run into a stray pup.”

“Where in the world are we walking? With such a good path here, this can’t be deep mountains.” “Perhaps when they heard of Liangshan Marsh’s attack, everyone from humans down to pigs and dogs swiftly scattered and fled.” “Then there ought to be traces of the village left.”

“That’s true…” “So, does that mean we’re being bewitched by demons?” “Cut it out.” A chill ran down his spine… Hmm, that’s strange. “What just came on the wind sounds like human voices.” Half-doubting, they walked onward again. When they emerged through a thicket-lined forest path—there suddenly appeared before them a bustling rural village clamoring with noise.

That was all well and good, but the two exchanged startled glances. All passersby wore sleeveless yellow robes with the character "Zhu" boldly dyed across their backs. Not only that—everyone appeared prepared for emergency, with spear stands and sword racks arrayed even before butcher shops, wine shops, temple schools, craft workshops, and barbershop eaves along the streets. But what proved more imposing was the town hall’s palisade gate, where they had displayed spiked forks and hook poles. Figures stood atop the fire watchtower, hands shading their eyes as they scanned all directions—the entire town now stood on wartime footing, every young man and woman transformed into militia.

Shaken off by the impregnable fortress, they encountered darkness in the labyrinth— In the labyrinth’s shadows, they met with meddling Soul Lanterns. “This is strange. We can’t recklessly enter this town—it’s too dangerous.” “Be careful, Shi Xiu!” “No, Yang Lin. You wait here in the shadows. I’ll scout ahead alone.” “You sure you’ll be alright by yourself?” “You’re more likely to have your disguise torn off if you go scurrying about than I am.”

Shi Xiu retorted. Entrusting his carrying pole to Yang Lin, he slipped alone into the town, empty-handed. When he spotted a kindly-looking old man standing under the eaves in the town, he bent slightly at the waist and approached, saying, "...Excuse me, could I have a cup of water?" “Oh, water, is it? Help yourself,” said the old man as he entered inside with him. “Draw from the jar in the earthen floor. Hmm, you’re a traveler, aren’t you? I haven’t seen your face around this town.”

“Well now, I’m a jujube merchant from Shandong.” “Ah yes, Shandong’s where they make proper jujube preserves.” “But where’d you leave your goods?” “You see, old-timer, I had some real bad luck along the way.” “Ah-ha! Ran into Liangshan Marsh’s garrison troops, did you?”

“It was exactly like wartime preparations. Because they suddenly threatened me, I had to abandon all my luggage and run off in a mad dash, you see… Old-timer, do you know about that?” “You don’t know? Take a look around. Even in this town, from the town hall to the fire watchtower, armed young men are packed in like that.” “No wonder… I thought it was odd how spears and clubs were lined up under every eaves here.” “This here is called Zhu Family Manor, and the hill behind here is Dulong Mountain. In other words, the entire hill is Lord Zhu Chaofeng’s estate. Those Liangshan bastards have come attacking there, fearlessly.”

“Huh, so it really is war then? Well, this is a fine mess we’ve stumbled into. It must be tough for those defending as well.” “Nah, our Lord isn’t one to flinch at mere attackers from Liangshan Marsh. Even just this castle town alone has over ten thousand households, and there are still two villages east and west of the mountain—in the east, Lord Li Ying, known as the Sky-Soaring Eagle, and his clan stand ready, while in the west, under the leadership of the Hu family’s great lord, there is also a formidable female general named Hu Sanniang—their only daughter—renowned by the nickname Ten Feet of Blue.”

“Hoh. A young lady, and yet...” “A young lady, and yet…” “In contrast, someone like me has had my legs trembling uncontrollably since earlier.” “So—how exactly should I go to reach a safe place?”

“The path...” The old man evaded slightly before continuing, “Well... come to this room and have something to eat before you go.” “I must apologize for imposing on you like this. Old man—if I may ask—what’s your name?” “As for me,” he said, “my surname is Zhongli—a two-character one. In these parts, the surname Zhu is common.” “So it’s all consolidated under the Zhu clan? By the way—is there one main road leading out from Zhu Family Manor to other regions?”

“You see, the roads here branch out like spider legs—once you lose your way, it’s no different from that accursed thicket where nobody finds an exit.” “Huh, so it’s truly such a maze?” “They’ve made these preparations for emergencies, you understand.” “But you, Mr. Jujube Merchant.” “I’ll whisper this to you alone.—No matter what, when you reach a bend in the road, turn toward the white poplar trees.” “If you blunder down paths without white poplars, you’ll wander endlessly through identical thickets or dead-end trails.” “Sometimes there are pitfalls, wire thorns, boar traps—all sorts of things laid out!”

It was just as he was being told this when suddenly a clamorous commotion swept through the street. “A spy! A dog!” came shouts of “They’ve caught one of Liangshan Marsh’s spies!” Shi Xiu started. So Yang Lin had been captured? What should he do? He stepped out front with the old man to look. There among the militia’s spears and clubs he saw Yang Lin—stripped naked, rope burns marking his flesh—being driven away, yet found himself utterly powerless to intervene.

Just then, another group of regular soldiers passed by in solemn formation before their eyes. Between the cavalry bearing tasseled halberds and the iron bow unit appeared the figure of a sharp-eyed young warrior astride a snow-white horse. The old man had been saluting as he saw them off, and later said to Shi Xiu: “You saw him, didn’t you? That was Lord Zhu Chaofeng’s third son—Lord Zhu Biao. And he’s betrothed to the only daughter of Hu Family Manor—the female general they call Ten Feet of Blue. After all, they say he’s the greatest among the brothers—even among those hailed as the Three Heroes of the Zhu Family.”

Amidst this turmoil, the town's wartime preparations reached their boiling point. Given the dangerous roads under these circumstances, the old man opened a thatched hut at the rear for Shi Xiu and advised him to stay there until the commotion subsided. Shi Xiu responded, "Then I'll gratefully accept your kindness," and that night finally slipped into the hut.

Then, it was early evening. Could it be a decree from the lord? A voice could be heard going from house to house, loudly making announcements: "By midnight, all able-bodied men of the militia are to act in accordance with the usual red lanterns—the Soul Lanterns! Lead the rebel commander Song Jiang and his forces from Liangshan Marsh into the labyrinth, and at the appointed time, capture them alive for us! Is that clear?! Do not lose sight of the Soul Lanterns! You are to move according to the Soul Lanterns' signals as you've trained daily!"

Meanwhile, above the seven thousand Liangshan Marsh troops stationed at Zhu Family Manor's entrance, the dusk sky finally darkened completely; upon the ground stood forests of blades and spears, while the stars were whetted white by murderous intent.

“Ah, both of them were captured,” murmured Song Jiang. Having received the report from the returned spy, Song Jiang now deeply regretted sending Yang Lin and Shi Xiu on reconnaissance and letting them penetrate too far—as if bearing personal responsibility for their capture. “We can’t abandon them now!” Li Kui declared. “I’ll lead the vanguard charge! Commander Song, you follow behind and rescue those two from the enemy!” Boastful proclamations were ever Black Whirlwind Li Kui’s trademark. Though normally reined in for such recklessness, even Song Jiang now rose with a “Very well!”— Thus Li Kui and Yang Xiong formed the first assault unit. The rearguard command fell to Li Jun.

And Song Jiang deployed Mu Hong on his left flank and Huang Xin on his right, with several units under Hua Rong and Ou Peng forming the second and third waves. To the thunderous beat of war drums and battle gongs, they advanced straight toward Dulong Mountain. None could have imagined that Shi Xiu alone had evaded disaster and was lying low that night in a lone thatched hut at the mountain's base, holding his breath. Moreover, they reached the very front of Zhu Chaofeng's stronghold—the mountain lodge atop Dulong Mountain—without encountering a single obstruction. When they looked up, they saw the moat's drawbridge hoisted high and the gate doors firmly shut, leaving the entire mountain fortress eerily silent.

“Look at you! Scared, huh?”

The vanguard was the fierce warrior Li Kui. Why would he just stand by and watch? Gripping his twin axes in both hands, Li Kui descended into the moat and tried to charge across from the shallows - at which Yang Xiong, startled by this sight, dragged him back.

“Reckless bravery makes you a laughingstock. They’ve likely laid traps. Get back now!”

“Don’t talk nonsense! You think we can stop now after coming this far? If cowardice’s got you, stay back and watch from there!”

As they argued, Song Jiang's main force arrived in full numbers. Song Jiang, seeing the two men quarreling, spoke.

“Yang Xiong is right,” said Song Jiang. “Since arriving here, I too have remembered—‘When confronting the enemy, avoid haste and violence,’ as written in the Heavenly Text. Tonight’s surprise attack was rather reckless.” He raised his voice decisively: “All troops—retreat!” “What? Retreat?” Li Kui’s protest erupted like a thunderclap. “Without even fighting?” “Correct! Those who disobey will face punishment!” The command carried blade-like severity. But before its echo faded—KA-BOOM!—a signal flare split the heavens with earthshaking force. From Zhu Manor’s distant walls came answering crimson: hundreds of torches flaring to life across battlements and towers. Fire arrows whistled down like meteors; catapult stones and crossbow bolts followed in a steel-and-flame deluge.

“Damn it!” Song Jiang, seeking to reverse this overextension, rasped out, “All troops, fall back to original positions! As you fall back, stay alert for ambushes at every turn!” However, once the formation of men and horses had collapsed into chaos, restoring order proved no easy task. To make matters worse, from unexpected directions came the roar of stone fire arrows spewing flames that shook the groves, while from atop the giant trees in the area, a hail of random arrows rained down.

“Ambushes are on all sides!” “Do not panic! Do not scatter!” “Charge straight through along a single path!” However, the entire army’s advance came to an abrupt halt, and they were instead pushed back from the front. When those in the rear asked, “Why aren’t we moving?” word came that the front was a dead-end alley. If they turned to a different direction, they would again find their path blocked by a dry moat and wire fences; even if they searched for small paths, there was only a dark thicket of bamboo so dense they couldn’t walk through it.

“Ah! What a disastrous defeat! Is this truly how Song Jiang meets his end?” he lamented.

But at that moment, a heaven-sent commotion came through from the rearguard. “It’s Shi Xiu!” It was a cry of “Shi Xiu has come!”

He had no time to even wonder, "Huh?" Unmistakably, Shi Xiu had come before Song Jiang’s horse. He rapidly recounted the details since noon, then roared about this labyrinth: “If you just wander blindly, you’ll only get lost and won’t escape Zhu Family Manor. The white poplar trees are the markers for the correct path. When you come to a corner, aim for any standing white poplar tree and turn to proceed.”

Before long, guided by this method, their movement began to flow swiftly and unimpeded. However, along their path, the movements of ambushers became visible once more, and those movements only grew more persistent and numerous. Thereupon, Song Jiang once again questioned Shi Xiu. “Why is this? No matter how far we advance, the ambushers keep clinging to us. However formidable Zhu Chaofeng’s influence may be, he couldn’t possibly have this many retainers.”

“That’s right. They’re not regular troops. Those are militiamen from Zhu Family Manor being manipulated by Soul Lantern signals—shifting here and circling there to create phantom movements that make their numbers seem greater.” “What? You mean they’re controlling the Soul Lanterns?” “Look there. Do you see those faint red lanterns swaying atop the tall thicket—flickering coded signals like will-o’-the-wisps?”

“Ah! So that’s it. Hua Rong! Hua Rong!”

“Yes, Deputy Chief?” “You heard what was said just now, didn’t you?” “You are a master archer who can even shoot down geese mid-flight.” “Can you shoot down those distant red lanterns?” “No trouble at all.” “Understood.”

Creak, creak, creak... With Hua Rong’s bowstring drawn taut, the twang rang out—and in that instant, the distant spark of light was snuffed out. From then on, with the local militia being untrained to begin with, darkness held only chaos. But no sooner had they scattered like fallen leaves than a cavalry unit’s hooves thundered across the ground. The mobile reserve forces of Li Jun and Qin Ming joined them while scattering the enemy.

Before they knew it, morning had arrived. The entire army gathered at a hill on the outskirts of the village, confirmed their safe escape from the deadly situation, and when it came to taking a headcount,

“Huang Xin is missing!”

“It appears General Huang Xin has perished in battle.” At once, they all began to mourn. Then one of Huang Xin’s subordinate soldiers spoke up. “But General Huang Xin isn’t dead! Last night in the reeds, ambushers caught his horse’s legs with rakes and made him fall. Then hordes of enemies piled onto him where he lay.”

“You! Why have you kept silent until now?”

Though Song Jiang was furious, this subordinate wasn't even a low-ranking soldier. Rather than dwell on his anger, the urgent matter became how to retrieve Huang Xin. And regarding Yang Lin - who had been captured the previous day - once they had all finished their morning field rations, they commenced deliberations.

Then, Yang Xiong the Sick Yuchi stepped forward and proposed this strategy.

“The strength of Dulong Mountain lies in its tripod-like structure formed by three families. However, as I previously reported, Li Ying the Sky-Soaring Eagle of the Eastern Foothills clan has refrained from reinforcing them this time precisely because relations with the main Zhu family have soured. Yet Deputy Chief—why have you not turned your eyes there?”

“Indeed, that was an oversight on my part.” Song Jiang adopted his strategy and promptly resolved to visit the Eastern Li family to win Li Ying over as an ally.

The dual-sword female general left her martial aura lingering over the battlefield, the capture of the lecherous Dwarf Tiger, Song Jiang himself assumed the envoy's role. Having Yang Xiong lead the way while bringing Hua Rong, Shi Xiu, and two hundred cavalry behind him, they reached the moat of Li Family Manor only to hear alarm drums already pounding from the gate tower and see the drawbridge raised—a sight that revealed defenses too formidable to breach.

“I am Song Jiang of Liangshan Marsh.” “We bear no hostility toward your esteemed manor.” “We seek only to humbly request an audience with your master Li Ying, the Sky-Soaring Eagle. We implore you to convey our message.” “I beseech you to relay our entreaty without suspicion.”

Over the moat, Song Jiang, atop his horse, repeated these words in a booming voice. Before long, a small boat came across from the distant stone wall.

Now, this was Du Xing the Demon-Faced Child—a retainer of the Li family who was close with Yang Xiong and regarded him as a benefactor.

“Hey brother,” Yang Xiong promptly pulled him over and introduced him to Song Jiang, but Du Xing said with an apologetic look: “Though you’ve gone to great lengths, Master Li Ying remains gravely ill and insists he cannot meet with you under any circumstances. There will be other opportunities—for today, I must ask you to withdraw.” “I’ve heard he’s recovering from an arrow wound,” Song Jiang replied. “But surely that isn’t the sole reason we’re denied an audience. Is it deference to your main family’s patriarch—Zhu Chaofeng?”

“That may also be the case.” “Moreover, my master is a man of straightforward nature.” “The people of Liangshan Marsh are, so to speak, a band of rogues—rebels against the realm—and it is not that there is no tendency to scorn them.”

“Quite right!” said Song Jiang. “That is precisely what makes him the Sky-Soaring Eagle we know. To have forced such a man to bend his principles was indeed a heartless act of ours. Let us abandon our request for an audience.” “My deepest apologies,” said Du Xing. “No need for that,” Song Jiang replied. “Henceforth, without awaiting Master Li Ying’s aid, we shall defeat Zhu Family Manor’s forces through our own strength. Should fate permit another encounter in days to come, we shall meet again.” “Under ordinary circumstances,” Du Xing continued, “Master Li Ying would stand united with the three families to defend Dulong Mountain. But he remains deeply angered by the main family’s recent conduct and will not send reinforcements.” His tone grew urgent. “That said, the female general One Zhang Green of western Hu Family Manor wields her Sun-Moon Twin Blades like no other heroine of this age. Moreover, Dulong Mountain itself forms an impregnable fortress—you must exercise utmost caution.” He leaned forward. “Most critically—the manor gate cannot be breached unless attacked simultaneously from front and rear.”

Du Xing further advised Song Jiang on all he knew regarding the geography, points of attack, and internal conditions within the manor.—Song Jiang expressed deep gratitude and then explained to the assembly in the command tent the circumstances of their fruitless return—how they had no sooner returned to their former camp than the matter came to pass. “Cut the crap—!” It was Li Kui who erupted in anger mid-discussion. “Deputy Chief or not—why’d you just meekly turn tail and run?” “That Li Ying guy’s no different from a two-faced rat.” “Why don’t we start by kicking that Li Family Manor to pieces first?”

“No, Li Ying is an honorable man,” said Song Jiang. “We must not make him an enemy. Rather than that, the lives of our two captured comrades hang by a thread. Comrades—will you not once more heed Song Jiang’s command and march against Zhu Chaofeng’s main family?”

At his words, with a clatter of armor, those who had been at the head of the command tent all rose to their feet in unison.

“Your words need no elaboration,” they said. “Then who shall lead the vanguard?” “Of course it’s me!” As Li Kui volunteered himself, Song Jiang silenced him with a single reproachful glance.

“Stand down.” “Li Kui’s vanguard would disrupt matters through half-measures.” “You will take the rear guard this time.”

Li Kui sulked. However,Song Jiang appointed four men: Ma Lin,O u Peng,Deng Fei,and Wang Aihu, “I myself will lead the vanguard.”

said Song Jiang. The Second Detachment was headed by Dai Zong and included Qin Ming, Yang Xiong, Shi Xiu, Li Jun, Zhang Heng, Zhang Shun, and Bai Sheng. The Third Detachment consisted of Lin Chong and Hua Rong, with Li Kui also among their ranks. This was an all-out attack. With a great crimson banner bearing the white-outlined character "Commander" at the forefront, their war drums boomed as they advanced on Zhu Chaofeng's mountain fortress.

Here at the main gate of Dulong Mountain's fortress stood a massive bluish stone engraved with an ode: A dense forest of swords, A thicket of halberds. Willow blossoms slice through water, Grass blades form war arrows. The moat's encircling wall—these stalwart men, In the Ancestral Hall dwell the Three Heroes' sons. Lord Chaofeng, rich in wisdom's craft— When crisis stirs, the fortress howls as one. Upon Dulong Mountain's peak, below Dulong Ridge's base, No lurking foe shall find brief grace. At first touch—insects scattered like mist, Their fragile forms to nothingness dismissed. "Hmm," Song Jiang murmured, squinting at a nearby post. "Is there more there?" Approaching for closer inspection, he found fresh ink declaring: "Fill Liangshan Marsh to capture Chao Gai alive!" "Crush Mount Liang's rebels—Song Jiang we'll deprive!"

“Fill Liangshan Marsh to level ground and capture Chao Gai alive.” “Crush Liangshan and seize Song Jiang.”

Ma Lin, Wang Aihu, and the others bristled with rage the moment they saw this. “Ugh! What an insolent little ditty.” “Very well! We won’t withdraw to Liangshan Marsh until we’ve ground this place to dust!”

However, Song Jiang remained calm. Of the three detachments, he left only the Second Detachment here at the front gate, while his main detachment and the Third Detachment stealthily advanced along the path toward the rear gate at the back entrance.

However, at this very moment, from the enemy side as well, a force came galloping down the rear slope. That was none other than the treasured daughter of the Hu Family Manor—the female general nicknamed One Zhang Qing—who had led approximately five hundred soldiers out through the back gate to strike the rear of the main attacking force.

Song Jiang, upon seeing her, immediately said to those around him.

“Oh! That must be the famed Hu Sanniang! Will none of you capture that butterfly-like warrior alive and bring her here?”

Then, at his words,

“Oh, leave it to me!” When they saw who had rushed out, it was none other than Wang Aihu—he who was called invincible when wielding his spear. “It’s Wang Aihu! Wang Aihu has gone forth!” came the roaring cheers. In response, the enemy side raised a thunderous battle cry. Already, Hu Sanniang urged her blue-gray steed forward, standing alone in a poised stance that dared challengers to approach. Her alluring appearance held a bashful hue that would shame even the flowers of a cool autumn night. Her fragrant hair was secured with a golden helmet pin, jade cicadas glinting at her temples. Pearls adorned her stirrups; she wore a crimson gauze robe over silver chainmail, an embroidered belt at her waist, and in her slender hands gripped the drawn Sun and Moon twin swords—one to each side of her saddle.

...This won’t do.

Song Jiang, watching from afar, had immediately realized something when he saw the unusual dullness in Wang Aihu’s spear as he charged toward One Zhang Qing.

Wang Aihu was by nature a man whose eyes were ever drawn to lust. To have such a man confront that graceful female warrior could hardly be called sound judgment. In truth, from the very moment Wang Aihu closed in and crossed blades with her twin swords, his battle spirit and carnal desire stood equally divided. Yet knowing any lapse would mean death, he pressed forward with desperate cries—clang after clang rang out as sweat streamed down his brow through dozens of exchanges—yet still his thoughts strayed: Ah, what beauty! This inadvertent musing nearly caused him to channel some aberrant energy into the sparks flying from their locked steel. Simultaneously, One Zhang Qing—through feminine intuition—

“Well, what kind of opponent is this? You’re a joke of a man!”

Furrowing her willow-leaf brows in utmost loathing, she mastered the secret art of her twin swords—and within the swift ring of light that seemed like sorcery, with a clang, she deftly wound around her opponent’s spear and disarmed him. "Ah! Damn it!" From atop the saddle, Wang Aihu instinctively thrashed about. In the next instant, One Zhang Qing’s blade struck his shoulder with a one-handed swing. When the metallic clang responded to that, one could see that, fortunately, the armor’s metal fittings had saved Wang Aihu’s life. But the impact must have been tremendous. Wang Aihu’s body was tumbling from the saddle.

“Someone! Quickly capture this enemy!” “Quickly, capture this enemy!” It was One Zhang Qing’s cool voice. No sooner had she called this to her allies behind her than her twin swords were already meeting the next enemy. Seeing that Wang Aihu was in peril, it was Ou Peng who rushed out to rescue him. But it was too late—Wang Aihu was swiftly ensnared by the castle soldiers’ ropes, sending the enemy’s spirits soaring with a roar. Ou Peng panicked. The iron spear he had charged with now seemed to be toyed with by a butterfly, for he had come to feel a mischievous, hollow emptiness. “How infuriating!” he seethed—yet the more he raged, the more both his breath and his horse’s grew wild beyond control.

Song Jiang saw that this was no ordinary situation. “Deng Fei! Come forth! Ma Lin—lend your blade!”

he became frantic.

It was no longer time to spectate at one-on-one duels. From the enemy's rear gate emerged Zhu Long—eldest son of Zhu Chaofeng—leading three hundred soldiers who targeted Song Jiang's flank. Indeed, a murderous aura coalesced around Song Jiang. At that moment, Qin Ming of the vanguard arrived leading reinforcements. Song Jiang immediately issued orders to this new force.

“This will do! Ma Lin, Deng Fei—go engage that Hu Sanniang over there. Wang Aihu’s already been captured by them.” “Understood.”

When Qin Ming’s unit began their reckless charge,

“Halt!”

Seizing the moment, Zhu Long's forces came crashing in from the side mid-charge. But no enemy could withstand Qin Ming's wolf-toothed club—a spiked iron rod. Had Luan Tingyu, the Zhu Family's martial arts instructor, not emerged from within the castle to assist at that critical moment, one might even say Zhu Long would have faced certain peril.

“This one will take over.” “You should withdraw and catch your breath.” Luan Tingyu led his fresh troops to block Qin Ming’s path. After thoroughly exhausting them in battle, he feigned retreat and fled. Unaware of the ambush lying in wait, Qin Ming continued his relentless pursuit only to plummet, horse and all, into a hidden pit concealed within the grassy thicket. For there lay an ambush.

Moreover, Deng Fei also fell into the same trap. Deng Fei had been kicking aside One Zhang Qing’s subordinates when he suddenly turned around— “Ah! Qin Ming?!” Seeing his comrade apparently fallen into peril, he recklessly charged toward it. It was as if they had walked into their own trap—the moment he drew near, he was caught in a pitfall called “horse-binding ropes,” instantly becoming perfect prey for the ambush. It was nothing but one misfortune after another.

Meanwhile, Ou Peng and Ma Lin— "Is this a human or a celestial specter?" And yet, the two men still found themselves overwhelmed by One Zhang Qing alone. Merely calling her strong would not suffice. Her swiftness resembled a swallow skimming waves. It was as though she fought against a wind swirling with white snowflakes. If they lowered their guard even slightly, her slender twin swords would slash inward. She hacked from right and left with such ferocity they could scarcely breathe. Even as they gasped for air, barely parrying her strikes—

“Young Mistress, I’ve taken care of one of them!” Luan Tingyu came flying in to reinforce them. With a gasp, Ou Peng swerved his horse. However, the iron hammer that Luan Tingyu swung down seemed to strike Ou Peng somewhere in that instant. Ou Peng fell from his horse, groaned, and could not rise.

At this moment, Song Jiang too had placed himself at the vanguard of the entire army and was amidst the chaotic fray,

“Quick—get Ou Peng’s body onto that horse!” Though Song Jiang managed this snap command, merely rescuing Ou Peng strained their limits. Ma Lin too found himself hounded by Yizhang Qing, their rout now irreversible as comrades trampled comrades in their panicked flight downslope to the southern wilds. There stood the second unit—Yang Xiong, Shi Xiu, Hua Rong and others—gnashing their teeth at this calamitous defeat. “No mere demon... Very well! That insolent she-warrior—!”

He stepped forward to take their place, but One Zhang Qing and Zhu Long were already nowhere to be seen. The enemy's fresh forces had now become the renowned third son of the Zhu family, Zhu Biao, leading over five hundred cavalry.

This time, the enemy rained down a chaotic hail of arrows. The arrow volley proved utterly impenetrable. Then came a charge from two hundred spearmen while Zhu Biao—astride his swift steed—darted through the fray like lightning, never lingering in one place.

The sun was setting, the evening clouds crimson, the battle took on a completely chaotic form. The group at the main gate—Li Jun, Zhang Heng, Zhang Shun, Mu Hong, and others—attempted to enter the moat and cling to the enemy fortress, but meeting with stones, wild arrows, catapults, and more, they could not approach; on land, Dai Zong and Bai Sheng were also left dumbfounded, with no means to act.

“Ah—I’ve erred,” “Commanding battles was not in Song Jiang’s nature.” “I cannot bear to see more deaths.” Song Jiang abruptly ordered the retreat gong struck. That was just like him.

Under the twilight, Song Jiang gathered his entire force, calmed the weeping and frustrated warriors, and began withdrawing toward the village entrance. Even so, they could not retreat unscathed. It became a torment of cycles—turning back to fight their pursuers only to seek new escape routes after each clash. Moreover, the enemy knew the terrain intimately and showed no sign of relenting in their relentless chase. Song Jiang’s army appeared as if wandering through a pitch-black night. Before long, an enemy force that had circled ahead to intercept them materialized on the path. A single rider blazing like a firefly charged at the forefront. To their astonishment, it was none other than the female general Hu Sanniang—One Zhang Qing.

Under the name of Little Zhang Fei, willows bent and flowers yielded. The beautiful warrior too closed her eyes in resignation. Had One Zhang Qing, Hu Sanniang, retreated once more into the castle to catch her breath after that? By now she had changed her battle adornments— a jade-inlaid helmet, polished silver armor, and a white silk battle robe embroidered with floral branches glistened,

“Shall I claim Song Jiang’s worthless life?” With these words, she laughed—a cold, ringing sound—her pale blossom-like face seeming to fill the darkness itself. ...Even Song Jiang and the battle-hardened men of Liangshan Marsh, veterans of countless Asura’s fields, found their mounted ranks faltering unbidden. “Huh? One Zhang Qing!” They shuddered without knowing why.

But there were those who lacked such sensitivity. Li Kui, the Black Whirlwind. “What the—you wench, acting all high and mighty!” With thin-bladed twin axes in hand, he charged at her. However, with only a rustling sound like wind passing through the sparse woods beside them, One Zhang Qing’s figure was already beyond the reach of Li Kui’s eyes. Instead, Li Kui found himself among enemy foot soldiers he hadn’t even sought out, and the twin axes grew fiercely enraged. And there, it instantly turned into a chaotic melee.

From behind as well, the enemy was closing in. Song Jiang feared the enemy's trickery. Those around him also urged him to escape without concerning himself with that place.

However, as they fled onward, once again from the darkness ahead came a beautiful voice that rang out mockingly. “You may try to flee, but I will not let you escape．Shall I claim that body of yours—Song Jiang or whatever they call you？”

“Ah?!” They had no time to turn their steeds around. The flash of sun-and-moon blades grazed his body, and one who tried to shield him was abruptly cut down from horseback. With a sharp crack, the halberd’s shaft was severed. The darkness was absolute. Song Jiang was in danger.

Then, yet another gust of wind added another whirl to the vortex. In the midst of that force, Song Jiang caught sight of a burly man astride a steed with frost-patterned fur and wearing a lion-head helmet that glinted clearly even in the dim night; he involuntarily let out a cry like that of a Buddha appearing in hell.

“Leopard Head? Has Leopard Head Lin Chong come to aid us?” “Is the one who has come to our aid Leopard Head Lin Chong?” “It’s Lin Chong! It’s Lin Chong!” “Abandon this position and retreat at once!” No sooner had these words been heard than One Zhang Qing—not Song Jiang—swiftly sank into her saddle and galloped off down a side path. Now regarding Lin Chong—even beyond Liangshan Marsh, he bore the valiant epithet “The Little Zhang Fei of Our Time.” Perhaps even One Zhang Qing found herself momentarily swept up in that peculiar trepidation known only to a woman’s heart.

“Wait, Female General!” “Female General!” Lin Chong would not let her escape. The disparity in their steeds’ speed was absolute. Perhaps having resigned herself, Hu Sanniang suddenly wheeled her horse about. Lin Chong wielded a serpentine spear of zhangba length. One of her twin blades was instantly knocked away, and as she ceaselessly dodged the white-flame flashes of spearhead threatening her lashes, her supple form from waist to chest arched backward repeatedly like willow branches yielding to the wind. She forgot death in her rapture. Even being toyed with by Lin Chong held a strange sweetness. When awareness returned, her hands held no remaining sword—she had already been seized by Lin Chong’s simian arm and plucked from the saddle. Within the giant man’s arm soaring through empty air, she shut eyes filled with resignation. The verge of suffocation felt like some sweet dream.

“Deputy Chief, I have captured her alive.”

The place where she had been thrown down was already the Liangshan Marsh army's encampment at the village entrance. Song Jiang had arrived safely a step ahead, and it seemed his fellow staff officers were streaming in one after another. "Lin Chong. This is entirely your doing. With this, I can at least offer some justification to the brethren of Liangshan Marsh."

However, Song Jiang remained in low spirits all night. He had not slept until dawn. He had been welcoming each small group of straggling subordinates as they arrived, grieving over the still insufficient numbers.

The losses were enormous.

The next day, he entered his tent but continued to toss and turn, tormented by self-reproach. And then, with heavy-lidded eyes, he exited the tent,

“The woman cannot remain here. With four squad leaders and thirty soldiers, bind One Zhang Qing to the horse’s back and deliver her immediately to Liangshan Marsh.” He ordered. Moreover, concerned for Ou Peng—who groaned with grave injuries inflicted by Luan Tingyu—he arranged to have him sent to the mountain stronghold at the same time.

“Hmm?”

The minor leaders chosen as messengers had no sooner gathered their swift horses and left the village entrance than they exchanged glances and chuckled. “There’s more to this than meets the eye.” “After all, Deputy Chief Song originally joined the stronghold over a woman’s blunder.” “This here’s a different matter altogether.” “He’s surely taken a fancy to One Zhang Qing.” “…Heh, heh, heh.”

They had triumphed in battle, but for the Zhu clan, the fact that they had entrusted Hu Sanniang—the flower of Dulong Mountain, One Zhang Qing—to enemy hands was—

“What a regret—a single oversight in a thousand plans.” The Zhu clan must have stamped the ground in frustration, lamenting their miscalculation. All the more so must have been the torment in the heart of her betrothed—Zhu Biao, the third son of Zhu Chaofeng. To avenge this humiliation, he swore to heaven to capture Song Jiang alive. He must have resolved to bundle together Huang Xin, Deng Fei, Qin Ming, Yang Lin, and the many other prisoners already captured, send them to the imperial court in Kaifeng’s Eastern Capital, and use the resulting rewards and honors to avenge this humiliation—then set about resharpening his spears and arrowheads.

But as for Song Jiang on the other hand,

"This is it." He devised plans, but there remained no strategy to mount a third offensive. Resentfully, through yesterday and today, he hung the tent curtain and sank deep into contemplation.

At that very moment, unexpectedly—

“The strategist of Liangshan, Mr. Wu Yong, has arrived.”

the sentries on the village road came to report.

“Huh? Professor Wu Yong has arrived?” Just at that moment.

Song Jiang descended the hill and, wondering what was going on, welcomed Wu Yong.

The group numbered five hundred. With Wu Yong at their head, they were joined by the Ruan brothers, Lü Fang, Guo Sheng, and others. The carts in their procession carried a large quantity of supplies including wine and dried meat, so that evening these were distributed to the entire army in appreciation, and for the first time in a long while, vitality returned to the encampment. “Starting with Chief Chao Gai at the stronghold, they are terribly worried about your well-being.”

At Wu Yong's words. "I am utterly ashamed."

Song Jiang sank even deeper into despondency. “And your recent circumstances?” “I have suffered two crushing defeats. Moreover, I have allowed even four of our men—Yang Lin, Huang Xin, Qin Ming, and Deng Fei—to be captured by the enemy.” “I also heard about that along the way—from our allies who were sent to deliver One Zhang Qing.” “If Lin Chong had not been there, that success would never have been achieved. What a fool of a general I am. Please laugh at me. I can no longer face Chief Chao Gai.”

“Ha ha ha! There’s no need for such self-deprecation,” said Wu Yong. “No matter who came to take command against the Zhu clan’s defenses at Dulong Mountain, comparable losses would have been unavoidable. However, Deputy Chief Song—the opportunity has arrived!” “What do you mean by ‘opportunity’?” “It will surely fall.” “Dulong Mountain…?” “Exactly. Though unless I explain the details, you likely wouldn’t nod in agreement.” “But how exactly does that work?” “You know of Shi Yong remaining at Liangshan Marsh, do you not?”

“Shi Yong? Of course I know him.” “A relative of his recently sought refuge at our stronghold—and remarkably, this man maintains good relations with the Zhu Family’s martial instructor, Luan Tingyu.” “Hm?” “What’s more, he shared close bonds with our comrades Yang Lin and Deng Fei... Upon hearing of your arduous campaign here at Zhu Manor, he voluntarily offered a stratagem.” “A curious connection and an ingenious scheme—wouldn’t you agree?”

“Indeed, it is strange—but I still don’t grasp what this ‘ingenious stratagem’ entails.” “You’re absolutely right! Let us proceed methodically. Tonight over wine, I’ll share its auspicious details… The principals themselves are somewhat delayed but should arrive here within five days.”

What follows is the tale as told by Wu Yong, but to recount it in his own words would be a bit too lengthy.

Let us break this into chapters and temporarily shift our stage to recount that origin story.

×　　　　　　　　　×

In a corner of Shandong lay a seaside village known by the place name Dengzhou. Despite its proximity to the sea, the village was notorious not for seafood but for more unpleasant creatures. In the mountains beyond the prefectural city walls, ferocious beasts—tigers, leopards, wolves—abounded, and the damage inflicted year-round upon people and livestock was far from insignificant.

Now. There had been word that a high-ranking official on an inspection tour of various provinces would soon pass through this region. For this purpose, the Dengzhou magistrate issued an order: "Issue a time-limited tiger extermination order to the village commoners and hunters."

and he had strictly conveyed it to the local village heads and village offices.

There were hunters there: elder brother Xie Zhen and younger brother Xie Bao. They were brothers with neither father nor mother.

Xie Zhen was nicknamed Two-Headed Snake, and Xie Bao was called Twin-Tailed Scorpion. Both were robust men over seven feet tall, and the hunters throughout the prefecture revered them so deeply they even spoke of them as "the Xie clan's two heroic warriors." As for the younger brother, he bore a tattoo of a Flying Yaksha on his thick thighs, and when he raced through the mountain ridges, deer and wolves would vanish into the shadows while birds seemed ready to plummet from the sky in terror.

“Brother, I went to the village office.” “So it’s that strict deadline order?” “Can’t be helped.” “It’s orders from the authorities.” “What’s that supposed to mean? What’s all this wording about?” “They say we gotta present the prey by the deadline.” “Miss it and they won’t accept it.” “As punishment—they’ll hang you by the neck.” “But bring good game, they’ll grant a reward… Same old empty promises.” “Don’t want no noose. Let’s go for the reward instead.” “That’s the spot we’ve had our eyes on.” “Let’s hunt down that one on the ridge.”

“Understood. Brother, let’s bring traps, poisoned arrows, crossbows—and spears too—tonight. Get them ready.” The deadline was three days. At dawn the next day, the two brothers stood equipped with thin-bladed mountain swords at their waists, deadly tools in their hands, belts of tiger sinew fastened tight, and leopard-skin half-pants. Striding through the clouds and defying the wind, they declared, “This is where we’ll make our stand.” And so they walked around all day long. When they searched, they encountered nothing. They saw only tiger droppings. The next day as well, they licked at dried rice and cow bones repeatedly, and this day too ended in failure.

“Brother, tomorrow’s the deadline.”

"I wonder if that damn tiger knows." “It’s spiteful—always lumbering out when we walk empty-handed...” “This is bad. The more I think about it, the less I can sleep.” The midnight of their campout had passed.

Fire was strictly forbidden. The fog was cold. Hugging each other, the two slept. Before they knew it, deep rumbling snores began to escape them—

“Huh?” They startled awake just before dawn. “Brother, no mistake. That was definitely the sound of the trap springing!”

“Got him. Go check,” said Xie Zhen. “Go check.” When they stumbled out to investigate, a massive creature thrashed in the darkness. The great tiger they had long pursued lay perfectly ensnared in their trap. But as they drew close to secure it with their hunting spears, the wounded beast roared—a thunderous cry that shook its arrow-pierced frame—before tumbling down the distant cliffside like storm clouds crashing through a valley. “Damn it—this one’s done for!” cried Xie Bao.

“What’s this, Brother? No need to panic. The poison from the poisoned arrows is working through its veins. It’s just thrashing where it fell. That beast won’t escape any further.” “But Brother, this cliff below—it’s definitely within the estate of that Ruthless Landlord and his son Mao Zhongyi.” “You fool! We don’t owe Landlord Mao any favors. It’s just a simple request to let us step into his garden—what complaint could there possibly be?” Rounding the path, the two brothers knocked on the gate of an opulent mansion nestled into the mountainside. The early morning was still faintly dark. The manor servants rubbed their bleary eyes as they emerged one after another. Landlord Mao himself soon appeared from behind.

“What’s this? What brings you two here at such an ungodly hour?” “We beg your pardon for the disturbance. We’ve imposed on you most unexpectedly. The truth is, we’ve been hunting a tiger under strict orders from the authorities—a three-day deadline.” “Ah, that official mandate. And did you successfully dispatch the beast?” “Just when we thought we had it cornered, the cursed creature slipped free from our trap and tumbled into your estate grounds. We humbly beg your indulgence—might we trouble you to permit passage through your rear garden and allow us to search your honored domain?”

“If that’s all it is, nothing simpler! ‘Course, ‘course! But Brothers Xie—still dark out there. Have some tea here first while we talk.” “But to trouble you further after this imposition...”

“Not at all. I’d like to go along myself—morning tea can wait.” “Now now, wait a moment.”

This proved unexpectedly drawn-out. By the time Landlord Mao finally had a manor servant bring the key and came to the back garden gate, morning sunlight already edged over the ridge. “Master, we hardly ever open this place—the lock’s rusted solid and won’t give way.”

When he heard the manor servant’s voice, Landlord Mao said: “What do you mean it won’t open? If it won’t open, bring a sledgehammer and smash it to get in.” They entered and searched the entire back mountain, but for some reason, the tiger was nowhere to be found.

Yue He, the jailer known as Iron Whistle, went to visit Auntie’s Tavern. “Strange?” The brothers Xie Zhen and Xie Bao tilted their heads together. However, throughout the entire back mountain area of the estate where Landlord Mao resided, there was no more space left for them to walk and search. “Hey, Brothers Xie—” Landlord Mao said with a reluctant, weary expression. “There’s no tiger carcass lying around anywhere here.” “It must have fallen on another mountain.” “What a nuisance—for our household.” “No, that cannot be possible.” “We trapped it on the plateau above here, and when the tiger broke free and fled, we definitely hit it with at least one poisoned arrow without missing our aim.”

“But it can’t be seen.” “If it can’t be found, there’s nothing to be done.” “Master.” “Wait.” “… Please look here.” “Blood drips steadily here.” “From high above down the cliff face—even the shrubs and grasses lie broken and flattened.” “The tiger struck by a poisoned arrow must have tumbled down here.” “Don’t mock me! Who knows if this blood’s from wild beasts or raptors tearing at each other?” “Are you two here at dawn’s first light to pick a quarrel with my household?”

“Nothing of the sort! “This is no half-hearted game! “This is life-and-death for us! “If we don’t present that tiger to Dengzhou’s magistrate by today’s end—if we don’t obey this edict—then comes harsh punishment! You being village head here, Master—you must know this full well!”

They argued back and forth, but Landlord Mao—now entirely changed from his earlier demeanor—persisted in dismissing their claims as baseless accusations and refused to engage further. For their part, the brothers were already glaring inwardly, thinking, “Since Landlord Mao also had to present the tiger to the magistrate’s office by day’s end, he must be seizing this chance to steal the beast that tumbled into his estate and cover up the theft!”

In the end, things escalated into a shouting match—“Go ahead and search the house if you want!” “Just try it!”—pushing the confrontation to its limit. However, it was the wealthiest estate in the village. The estate was vast, and moreover, manor servants and hired men followed closely behind the two, never leaving their side. Finally, even after searching the house, they found nothing, and the brothers, in reckless abandon— “Just watch! We’ll take this to the proper forum and settle it once and for all!”

With that final retort, they stormed out through the Mao family's gate. No sooner had they left than they came upon Mao Zhongyi, the Mao family's heir. Zhongyi was accompanied by a band of strangers, but upon hearing the brothers' account,

“Alright, come with me,” said Zhongyi. “Father must’ve been tricked by some wicked hirelings. I’ll go back and search the whole house for you.” These sympathetic words made the two thank him and follow back. Yet this proved more disastrous still—for during the fifth watch before dawn, Zhongyi had retrieved the great tiger from his family’s back mountain, reported it to the magistrate’s office, then laid preventive accusations: “They’ve fabricated claims about this tiger and threaten to burn our house—to slaughter every last Mao! I humbly beg you arrest these two hunters who plague us worse than any beast…” Thus with silver tongue had he brought constables back from town.

The Xie brothers were, in this situation, practically walking right into the ropes that now bound them of their own volition. The moment they re-entered the gate, constables and manor servants tackled them down and bound their arms behind their backs. Landlord Mao demonstrated to officials the aftermath of their reckless house search, drafted a fabricated accusation, and later appeared at Dengzhou Magistrate’s Office alongside his son Zhongyi with an air of false propriety. Considered a minor village matter, the magistrate himself never once showed his face in court.

Everything was handled by Wang Zheng, the first assistant officer acting as the magistrate’s representative. However, this Wang Zheng was a son-in-law of the Mao family. Thus, the investigation of the Xie brothers was merely a formality—torture, forced fingerprinting, sentencing to the dungeon—all wrapped up in just two days, “The place of exile will be officially designated at a later date.”

With that, they were imprisoned. The warden here was named Bao Ji, and the prisoners in the jail naturally feared him as if he were Yama. Not only had the Mao family’s bribes reached everyone from the magistrate down, but Wang the assistant officer had also whispered, "...they’ll get a dose (of poison) sooner or later."

“You! On your knees!” “Hey! Lift your face!”

With a snarling authority from the very start, he held the custody and sentencing documents in one hand.

“…Let’s see… So it’s Two-Headed Snake Xie Zhen and Twin-Tailed Scorpion Xie Bao.” “So—the Snake’s the elder brother, and the Scorpion’s the younger one?” “Yes, sir.” “Just ‘Yes, sir’ ain’t clear enough.” “Which one’s which?” “As you say—elder brother Xie Zhen is called Two-Headed Snake.” “You’re the younger brother—the Scorpion?” “Remember this face!” “Now that you’re here, I ain’t lettin’ no Scorpion or Snake strut around!” “Hey, jailer!” “Hah!”

“Dump these bastards in the dampest cell at the back of the dungeon!”

“Understood.” “On your feet!” He led them away with a severity befitting public scrutiny, but once they reached a deserted cell, the jailer suddenly lowered his voice and addressed the brothers.

“...Don’t you recognize me? It’s me.” “Huh?”

“You... are related to Captain Sun (military police), aren’t you?”

“Ah! If it’s him, he’s our cousin—a cousin on our mother’s side.” “You see, I happen to be Captain Sun’s brother-in-law.”

“Huh...?” they stared intently. “Then could it be… you’re Brother Yue He?” “That’s right—I am that Iron Whistle Yue He! Don’t you fret—I’m there!”

Heaven does not abandon brothers. While it seemed fate had turned against them with the Mao family having a son-in-law among the corrupt officials, here one of the Xie brothers' distant relatives stood guard as a jailer. Yue He had been born in Mao Prefecture, naturally clever and dexterous, with especially keen auditory faculties. Any song heard once would lodge perfectly in his memory, his melodic phrasing refined and his voice remarkably beautiful. This was precisely how he earned the nickname "Iron Whistle".

Outside the east gate of Dengzhou City, in a place called Shili Pai, there was a thriving tavern. The proprietress who could always be seen at the counter here was Mother Tiger Gu.

She was a spirited middle-aged woman known as Mother Tiger Gu—simply called “Auntie.” She was simply known as “Auntie.” However, this auntie was no ordinary woman. The regulars of the gambling den that perpetually ran in the back held her in awe; on days when Mother Tiger’s mortar-like buttocks were planted firmly at the counter’s ledger desk—the staff naturally—and even those drunken louts—could neither argue nor knock her down.

“My apologies. Is this Master Sun’s establishment?” “Yes, yes! Welcome indeed! Sun’s my husband. If you think this tavern’s signboard represents me—the proprietress—you must be quite the peculiar customer, hm? Go on, take any seat you fancy.” “Then I’ll borrow this spot for a moment.” “Ho ho ho! So stiff! Drinks? Meat? Or if it’s gambling you’re after, that’s in the back.” “No, Auntie. I happen to be your husband Sun Xin’s elder brother—and the younger brother of Captain Sun’s wife.”

“Huh...?” “So you’re called Yue He or something?...” “Yes—that’s me.”

“Well now, what a rare guest. I had heard you were employed at the magistrate’s office in the city, but...” “I’m the one who should apologize for not keeping in touch. Actually… today’s visit concerns a rather pressing matter.”

“Is it some urgent business or…?”

“Urgent indeed—a matter concerning two lives has brought me here. Moreover, they are your own cousins.”

“Huh...?” “Then... could this be about the Xie brothers—the ones working as hunters in the village at the foot of Dengyun Mountain?” “I was raised by their parents when I was little, and now that I’ve married into Sun Xin’s family, I consider them my real brothers.” “The brothers mentioned it too.” “‘Truth is, there’s a sister-like person running a tavern in Shili Pai...’ they said through tears in their cell.”

“Gah! They’ve been thrown in jail?!” “Well...” said Iron Whistle Yue He, explaining the circumstances and secretly disclosing how he had been asked by the two brothers to come here. “The truth is, bribes from the Mao family have reached everyone from the magistrate down to the jailers. If we’re not careful, they might be poisoned within the next few days.”

“Oh! … What am I supposed to do?” Auntie turned pale in an instant. Thinly drawn eyebrows; sunken eyes like metal pots. After all, she was no beauty. Whether she herself was aware of that or not. Leaving only a single mole on her large cheeks, she had slathered the rest in stark white powder, while her nearly bare arms—half-naked in appearance—were adorned with glaringly large bracelets of pure gold. She had stuffed her hair with hairpins and combs that reeked of desperate allure, and even this auntie—who was said to dispatch troublemakers like her husband, wandering gamblers, or rowdy drunkards with a mere flick of her wrist—seemed, deep down, to still be a woman at heart. Spilling large teardrops, she was already in a fluster.

Before long, she turned to the young ones in the corner of the shop.

“What are you doing?! Why are you just standing there with your mouths hanging open, staring at my face?! Hurry up and go find my husband somewhere! Tell him there’s urgent business!”

Several young men immediately dashed out to the front. During this time, Auntie expressed her gratitude to Yue He, earnestly entrusted her brothers' matter to him, and vowed while wiping away tears, "I will surely rescue them."

Yue He, being on prison duty, immediately returned to the city, but just as he left, Auntie's husband Sun Xin came rushing back, panting breathlessly as if something had happened. This man had handsome features, a tall and supple physique, and carried an air reminiscent of a former warrior.

Their ancestors hailed from Qiongzhou and were descendants of military officers, and even now, his elder brother Sun Li held the position of garrison commander of Dengzhou. Both brothers were hailed as incarnations of Yuchi Gong—a warrior of the Tang Dynasty—and this younger brother Sun Xin was called Little Yuchi.

“Hmm…” “They’ve stumbled into one hell of a mess.” As Sun Xin listened to his wife recount every word and detail, he merely groaned and kept his arms deeply crossed, but eventually spoke in a hushed tone. “What? Did you give Brother Yue He plenty of silver without being stingy?”

“I didn’t skimp on that! Prison dealings run on money more than even hell’s affairs!”

“Alright,” Sun Xin said. “Then, until we go to rescue them, they would manage to arrange things appropriately. The rest is just a matter of planning.”

“But when you say ‘planning,’ what kind of plan are you thinking of?”

“Nonsense! Do you think proper strategies materialize that easily? With the Mao family’s financial power and influence, even straightforward bribery tactics can’t match them. First, brute force. For that brute force, we need to secure Zou Yuan and Zou Run—the uncle and nephew—as our allies.” “Ah, those mountain men from Dengyun Mountain—the ones who often visit our gambling den?” “Exactly. Isn’t there some way we could…” “They’ll definitely come. Tonight.”

“Do you have a lead?” “Those two can’t tell odd from even in a dice game. “Let me see, was it the day before yesterday?” “They said, ‘We’ll come back after a day,’ and went back to the mountain.” “Then go prepare sake and snacks in the back.” “They once vented to me over drinks—though it was just drunken talk—about their frustrations with the current world and the tyranny of higher-ups.” “Surprisingly, these guys might actually agree to join us.” Indeed, that evening, two large men with unusual features stealthily made their appearance at the shop. Since they were regulars at the gambling den, they wordlessly slipped through to the back. Auntie shot a quick wink at her husband Sun Xin. Scattering flattery all the while, Sun Xin followed after them to the back.—When she found a gap in attending to the shop full of customers, Auntie too eventually slipped away to the back.

In a separate room away from the gambling den—with Zou Yuan and Zou Run seated in the place of honor and Sun Xin playing host—they had been drinking together when Sun Xin caught sight of the Tigress’s face. “Wife! First go thank these two gentlemen,” he said. “They’ve agreed to help rescue our Xie brothers.”

“Huh? Then... Ah... With this...” “Auntie…” said Zou Yuan from right beside her. “Are you really that happy to have us lend a hand? I’ve never laid eyes on such a pitiable Auntie before. Hey, Zou Run.” “Exactly. That’s exactly why there’s plenty of fight in us too! Uncle, why don’t you tell Sun Xin again what you just said to him?” “Yeah, Auntie—truth is, we’re of the same mind.”

And here, this uncle and nephew pair also disclosed their long-held intentions.

To explain: They currently maintained eighty or ninety men under them at Dengyun Mountain and engaged in banditry along remote highways to avoid troubling nearby villages—though this had never been their true aspiration from the beginning. In Shandong's Liangshan Marsh, three old comrades had joined their ranks. Yang Lin, called the Golden Leopard; Deng Fei, known as the Fire Kirin; and Shi Yong, styled the Stone General—these three. When they heard of the sworn brotherhood formed under Song Jiang and his men, they were filled with unbearable envy. They had long wished to abandon their paltry highway robberies and throw themselves into the band someday, yet lamented they had never found the decisive moment to make the leap.

That might well have been so—but this could be believed.

They were uncle and nephew, but there was not much difference in their years. Uncle Yuan was nicknamed "Emerging Forest Dragon," while his nephew Run was known in society as "One-Horned Dragon" due to the lump on the back of his head.

Both were born in Laizhou, but their martial arts were in no way inferior. They were men of such unyielding integrity—their disdain for the world so excessive—that society itself could not contain them. As for the nephew in particular, he had a quick-tempered nature and a habit of charging headfirst into anything when provoked. He was none other than the One-Horned Dragon, who even had tales of once snapping a pine tree with that lump-headed skull. However, even these two dragons—Yuan and Run—were not without their weaknesses. That weakness was the city garrison. “If those garrison troops were to come out…” he said, not without a hint of trepidation. Then Sun Xin beat his chest and vowed.

“There’s no need to worry about that at all. In fact, within the garrison is my own elder brother Captain Sun. Let’s call him over and lay out our plans together. With this unbreakable flesh-and-blood bond between us, you needn’t fear him turning against us.”

That night. Sun Xin sent a young shop hand into the city. —His wife, the Tigress, had suddenly fallen critically ill. She said she wanted to see you one last time. “Come visit immediately as a couple.” —By staging this unexpected welcome upon their arrival, they succeeded in startling Sun Li and his wife.

Following the Dengzhou prison break.

**A Chapter on the Flight from Shandong**

Sick Yuchi That was Sun Li’s nickname.

His complexion was deathly pale like bluish clay, yet his eyes gleamed like golden carp pupils. With a black-lacquered beard fluttering beneath his chin, he stood towering in stature—a master of the heavy bow whose ever-present vermilion-tasseled spear was no mere ornament. This was Captain Sun, feared not only throughout the city but even among his own garrison troops. Upon hearing that his younger brother’s wife was critically ill, “You never know.” “Even demons can fall ill, but...”

Putting his wife in a carriage while mounting a horse himself, he took about ten soldiers as attendants, abruptly submitted a leave request, and rushed to Shilipai at dawn. But when they arrived at his younger brother’s shop and were ushered into the inner quarters, out came none other than the supposedly critically ill Tigress herself, with Sun Xin appearing utterly unperturbed.—Sun Li and his wife felt fury before they could feel astonishment.

“Hey, Auntie.” “Sun Xin too.” “Enough with the bad jokes already.” “I have official duties that keep me busy.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” she said. “We thought you wouldn’t come unless we fabricated a dire enough emergency.” “There are limits to startling people!” he retorted. “What possessed you to stage this charade? Dragging out not just me but my wife too—” “The truth is, brother,” she pressed on, “an unforeseen calamity has struck. We must shutter our shop and join Liangshan Marsh within days.” “What?!” Sun Li, the Sick Yuchi, snapped into military rigidity.

“I hold the office of captain in the prefectural garrison!” “I know that, brother. That’s precisely why I’m making a point to inform you beforehand... Should I smash open the prefectural prison and ultimately flee to Liangshan Marsh, blame would naturally fall upon you as my blood relative. There’d be no escaping future repercussions.” “You—now you speak intolerable words! What possible reason compels you to commit such an outrageous act?”

“Forgive me. Actually, my wife was raised in her youth by a benefactor whose two children—hunters by trade—are now not only imprisoned on false charges but have also been targeted by a scheme where **the corrupt Mao family** has bribed everyone from their son-in-law’s constable to the magistrate and jailers—all colluding together—to kill **the Xie brothers** in secret!”

“Hmmph… grr,” Sun Li groaned. “Xie Zhen and Xie Bao—they’re no mere strangers to me either.” “Haven’t you heard about this incident I mentioned?” “I didn’t know. The magistrate and constable must’ve kept it tightly under wraps.” “Exactly. They’re all in league with the Mao family’s bribes.” “How vile these government offices have become. Though I too feed at the official trough, I never imagined the rot ran this deep.”

“Brother, that’s just how government offices are these days everywhere under heaven, you know. From the imperial palaces of the Song court at the top down to the constables and local bailiffs at the bottom.”

“Sun Xin! I understand your desire to go to Liangshan Marsh. But getting in there would be difficult without connections. Do you have any prospects?” “There is! Hey, wife! Go summon Zou Yuan and Zou Run here!”

“Ah. Wait.” “What is it，Brother?” “Those two are bandits from Dengyun Mountain，aren’t they? As someone registered with the Dengzhou garrison，I’ve long been sworn enemies with them.”

“So, Brother—just meet them once and lay all your cards on the table. They’re not mere bandits. They share our resentment against this corrupt world. What’s more, they have three allies within Liangshan Marsh—Shi Yong, Deng Fei, and Yang Lin. Thus, first we’ve resolved to head for Liangshan Marsh together, and they’ve agreed to help rescue the Xie brothers from within the city too. Brother—this is how it stands. Please. This is our lifelong plea as husband and wife. Lend us your strength.”

“Hmm… Let me think this through.”

Sun Li deeply crossed his arms. He stood at a great crossroads of fate. Yet even outsiders like Zou Yuan and Zou Run had allied with his younger brother. As an elder brother, how could he stand idle? Moreover, he had long since grown weary of the magistrate office's corruption. At last, he resolved himself.

The plan was set. Once matters were settled this way, the preparations fell into place with hurried efficiency.

The meeting between him and the Zous concluded smoothly, and they promptly entered secret discussions about attacking the prison. Zou Yuan then returned to the mountain once. He would gather all personnel, horses, and valuables from the mountain stronghold, select twenty elite men from his subordinates, and return there once more as promised. Sun Xin also quietly went into the city, met Yue He, secretly coordinated plans with him, then stopped by Sun Li’s residence and had the young men transport the valuable goods. Since it was the younger brother’s act of “acting on his elder brother’s orders,” the mansion’s servants showed no sign of suspicion whatsoever.

And so, the morning when all forces assembled arrived.

That morning，Auntie changed into her outdoor clothes，carefully applied her makeup，had someone young carry what looked like a gift basket，and set out for the city one step ahead of everyone else.

The remaining group consisted of Sun Li and Sun Xin. Along with the Zou uncle-nephew pair, their followers, the shop’s young men, and Captain Sun’s ten soldiers—over forty people in total—they had closed up shop and were drinking together since before dawn. Once they confirmed Auntie had departed, they split into two teams and swept out like the wind through the back and front exits.

“Well… Let’s get this done today. It’s a bit of a hassle, but that damn constable—the Mao family’s son-in-law—keeps pestering me, asking ‘Is it done yet?’ over and over, I tell ya.”

Bao Ji. That notorious Dengzhou prison warden with his hellish visage. From a small drawer in the watchtower desk, he stealthily took out a bag of poison and carefully divided it into two portions on medicinal paper. He must be accustomed to doing this. He handles it with the deftness of an apothecary. “Hm?” Hurriedly putting the poison back into the small drawer, he peered out the window, saw something, and rushed out in a flurry.

Just now, around the next corner of the prison corridor, the flashily dressed figure of a large woman slipped away unnoticed. Beyond that lay only the main prison cell where the Xie brothers were held. When Bao hurried over to investigate, he found jailer Yue He standing there holding a water-fire staff. At their sudden encounter, Bao barked out.

“Damn, that was close! What about the woman?”

“Ah. “The woman who came with the delivery?” “Delivery?! “... “If it’s a delivery, why didn’t you take custody of it and come deliver it to the watchtroom first?!”

“This one was just about to go.” “But the woman’s nowhere to be seen!” “Huh? She’s not there?” “This one told her to wait...” “Hmm... Perhaps she went to relieve herself?”

At that moment, other jailers came running over.

“Chief! Captain Sun is at the main gate right now—he’s banging on it and demanding an audience with you!” “Just find out what he wants. This dump ain’t part of the garrison’s turf.”

No sooner had he barked this out than he strode toward the lion-mouthed entrance of the main prison and once more hurled a thunderous shout at Yue He behind him.

“Hey! The lock’s open! This ain’t some ordinary lock!” “Hmm, that shouldn’t be possible at all.”

“You idiot! What’re you doing standing here? What’s your damn purpose?!”

"But I don't recall opening it." "Tch! Still yappin'." "There! Take a damn look!" Bao, in a fit of rage, pushed open the thick lion-mouthed door with a bang. The moment he did, he must have seen something strange inside. As soon as he bent at the waist and thrust his upper body inside, "A woman?!"

he shouted.

In fact, that shout merged with his shock as he tumbled headlong into the prison cell—a single event born of Yue He shoving his buttocks with full force from behind. Without delay, Yue He leapt in after him, “Damn you!” and tried to grapple with the massive figure before it could rise, only to be violently hurled away. Yet in that split second, Mother Tiger Gu Dasao had already plunged deep into Bao’s torso, driving a gleaming dagger once into his flank while Xie Bao pinned him from behind, and Xie Zhen drew Bao’s own sword to pierce clean through his chest.

“We did it!” “Quick – outside!” By now, the entire prison compound had turned into a commotion like a stirred-up hornet’s nest. Sun Li and Sun Xin smashed through the prison gates and stormed inside, joining forces with Gu Dasao, Yue He, and the Xie brothers. Meanwhile, the Twin Dragons Zou Yuan and Zou Run—leading a separate contingent—had already raided the magistrate’s office and arrived bearing the head of Wang Zheng, the Mao family’s son-in-law and constable, to reunite with them.

“Now.” “Withdraw!”

“We’ve accomplished our objective.”

“No more killing needed—absolutely none!”

The entire town was already in an uproar. Shops were hurriedly closing their doors one after another. However, even the pursuing magistrate officers and provincial soldiers—those on horseback with bows drawn who had been serving as the rear guard— "Halt! Is that Captain Sun?!" Once they realized this, not a single one dared to approach. In that moment, Auntie, the Xie brothers, and all the rest rushed out through the city gates like a whirlwind.

Sun Li also caught up afterward on horseback to Shili Pai. In front of the store were horses loaded with goods, carts, and young men prepared for travel. The preparations to evacuate were already complete and waiting. “I’d rather ride a horse than a carriage.” Auntie rode a horse. Sun Li’s wife was on the carriage. The driver promptly cracked the whip. Then, before they had traveled even twenty li, Xie Bao and Xie Zhen spoke up.

“Though we were already dead men walking when you saved us—it shames us to voice this stubborn grudge—but whenever we recall that Mao patriarch and his whelp Zhongyi, that father-son pair, our guts still churn with rage.” “We’ll follow you to Shandong later—please make your escape ahead of us now.” “Brothers Xie,” “No man could walk away from this.” “This Sun Li will charge into the Mao compound with you!”

Then Zou’s Twin Dragons added, “That’s the village at Dengyun Mountain’s base—practically our old stomping grounds. We’ll tag along too.”

With that, they turned their horses around midway. It was unbearable to have such a group make a detour here. The tragic state of the Mao family that night was too ghastly to behold. Both Mao Taigong and his son Zhongyi were hacked to pieces, and in the end, their estate was reduced to ashes in the blink of an eye. There were many estate guards and hired men, but none who would risk their lives to die for them. So even the stored gold and silver ended up being loaded onto the horses’ backs as much as they wanted, with Zou’s uncle and nephew declaring, “Leaving them behind would be a waste.” Leaving the fiery sky behind, the group hurried forty or fifty *li* as fast as they could and soon caught up with their comrades ahead.

Thus, before long, their journey entered Shandong, and soon they arrived at a riverside inn from which Liangshan Marsh could be seen in the distance. Namely, it was the lone inn where Shi Yong of the lookout teahouse was posted.

Zou and Shi Yong were old acquaintances.

The tedious details will be omitted here—but Shi Yong's words to the group were of grave importance.

“Truly regrettable though it may be, Brother Song Jiang has been absent for some time now—he isn’t currently at the marsh. Nor are Yang Lin and Deng Fei of our band here either... Do you know why? We’re embroiled in a great battle against Zhu Chaofeng of Zhu Family Manor... And truth be told, we’re losing ground. In fact, Yang Lin and Deng Fei have fallen prisoner to the enemy. With Zhu’s Three Heroes up front and that iron staff master Luan Tingyu—utterly unmanageable, they say—Liangshan Marsh isn’t having any ordinary days these times.”

Song Jiang’s furrowed brows relaxed. Sick Yuchi’s group infiltrating the Zhu family’s stronghold—

Sick Yuchi’s group infiltrated the Zhu family’s stronghold— On this day, Strategist Wu Yong stood positioned within the marsh. Lü Fang, Guo Sheng, the three Ruan brothers, and others led five hundred fresh troops setting forth to reinforce the embattled front at Zhu Family Manor. As the force disembarked from boats and formed their ranks, Shi Yong came rushing out from the riverside inn on the bank.

“Strategist. Might I trouble you to stop by for a moment?” With that—amid the commotion of troops mobilizing—he quickly informed him that certain individuals hoping to join Liangshan Marsh had arrived— “One of them, a man called Sick Yuchi Sun Li, says he wishes to offer a strategy if you would bring him to the front...” he added.

“What? Sick Yuchi?...” “Then isn’t his younger brother Little Yuchi Sun Xin?” “Very well. I’ll meet them.” Wu Yong had long heard of their names. Soon, Zou Yuan the Mountain Forest Dragon, Zou Run the Single-Horned Dragon, Xie Zhen, Xie Bao, and all the rest lined up before him. Among them—Yue He the Iron Whistle, Gu Dasao the Mother Tiger, Sun Li’s wife, and others—all appeared virtuous in Wu Yong’s eyes. “Are you Sick Yuchi?” “Yes.” “This one is Sun Li.”

“I heard you have some good strategy.” “If you would bring this one to the front lines...” “Of course—you comrades who have come seeking those of like spirit. I welcome you heartily. But what of this strategy?”

“When I was still training in martial arts,” “I once studied under the same master as Luan Tingyu and became his fellow disciple.” “Hm… So you were sworn brothers in training.” “Therefore, I understand his temperament and methods thoroughly.” “Though we haven’t met here in many years, if I claim I stopped by out of nostalgia while being transferred from the Dengzhou garrison to Yunzhou station under orders, that fellow will surely welcome me with open arms.”

“Is your plan to enter inside and provide us on the outside with tactical opportunities?” “A strategy to penetrate their entrails and rip them apart from within.”

“Interesting.” Wu Yong discerned. This will work, he thought. However, he ordered Sun Li and the eight others to follow a day later, while Wu Yong and his forces immediately set out for the site. And upon arriving at the Zhu Family Manor’s camp—Song Jiang’s headquarters—Wu Yong immediately recounted the circumstances and this strategy to him as a gift upon joining the battle.

×　　　　　　　　　×

The next day, Sun Li and his mixed-gender group arrived at this encampment. Immediately followed a modest welcoming banquet. Thereupon, each declared their origins and lineages.

Song Jiang relaxed his furrowed brows. Not only had they continued unfavorable battles here and lost face, but they had also handed four of their own generals over to the enemy as prisoners.

He had caused many subordinates to die and had been tormented day and night by helpless frustration.But now,both his mind and body had become utterly clear.Wu Yong came.Another unexpected ally joined.The ingenious strategies they had brought could indeed be called nothing less than a heaven-sent salvation.Song Jiang paid homage to the heavenly stars.

“Superintendent Dai.” The next day, Wu Yong summoned Dai Zong from the camp and entrusted him with an urgent mission. “I know it’s an imposition, but I need you to fly straight to Liangshan Marsh—we urgently require four individuals from there to be dispatched here at once.” “Understood. Who are they?” “Iron-Faced Judge Pei Xuan. Saintly-Handed Scholar Xiao Rang. Hou Jian the Long-Armed Ape. Jin Dajian the Jade-Armed Craftsman.” “They’re all specialists in their own fields.”

“Hmm. And also, ask them to bring such-and-such costumes for disguise and come at once. Moreover, the details are written inside here.”

As he handed him a letter and was turning to leave, a sentry from the palisade came to report.

“A man named Hu Cheng from the Hu Family Manor has come bearing provisions for the camp and requests an audience.” “Is not the Hu Family Manor one of the three clans surrounding the enemy’s Dulong Mountain?” “Yes, sir.” “They are the Zhu clan situated on the western foothills.”

Then, Song Jiang emerged from inside the headquarters.

“No—there is no issue at all. Sentry, bring him here.” Hu Cheng came before the headquarters, knelt down, and prostrated himself once more to Song Jiang. “My younger sister is the one you may know as Hu Sanniang, also called Ten Feet of Green.” “Ah—the noble brother of that gallant Female General.” “Despite being a woman, she recklessly charged through the chaos of battle and ended up captured by your noble forces. I have no honor left.” “Not at all—we’ve both taken prisoners. There’s no need to feel ashamed.”

“But, actually...” “What troubles your speech?” “That my sister acted rashly against your noble forces was due to her betrothal pact with a son of the Zhu family.” “And?” “I implore you—viewing her as but a young maiden—to show merciful grace and return her personage to this one under your magnanimity.” “Any recompense shall I provide.” “Henceforth shall I never permit defiance again.”

“Very well.” “What?” “Will you grant your consent?”

“In exchange, return our captured prisoner Wang Aihu.” “Well…” “As for that Wang Aihu…”

At this moment, Wu Yong interjected.

“Where is he? As for Wang Aihu—currently,” “Since he’s chained in the main fortress of Dulong Mountain—well, there’s nothing we can do about that.” “Hahaha.” “Then this discussion is pointless.” “But if these are the terms you propose, we might accept them.” “First—the Hu Family Manor shall never again send reinforcements.” “Second—you must capture any infiltrators Zhu Chaofeng sends.” “If you uphold these terms, we’ll return your sister eventually.” “However, know that she’s already been sent to Liangshan Marsh—we’ve guaranteed her absolute safety there.” “You may rest assured on that count.”

Hu Cheng swore to the agreement, prostrated himself in gratitude, and returned dejectedly.

While such scenes unfolded in the camp, Sun Li’s group, under Wu Yong’s command, steadily advanced their scheme on another front.

And then one day,

Dengzhou Garrison - Captain Sun Li They created a large banner inscribed with *Dengzhou Garrison - Captain Sun Li*, accompanied by over twenty horsemen and seven comrades, secretly departed from their camp last night, deliberately took a circuitous route, and eventually made their way toward the rear path of Dulong Mountain and Zhu Family Manor’s castle.

“Instructor!” A castle soldier rushed in and reported. Luan Tingyu, the martial arts instructor, was standing in the castle’s archery square, engaged in conversation with the Three Heroes of the Zhu family—Zhu Chaofeng’s sons Zhu Long, Zhu Hu, and Zhu Biao.

“What’s this commotion?” “Hah.”

“A man who identifies himself as Sun Li of the Dengzhou Garrison has arrived with a group of twenty-seven or twenty-eight men seeking an audience with you, Instructor.” “Where?” “To the moat outside the rear gate. Among them are also about two women.”

“That’s strange…” “Is that true?”

Beside them, Zhu Long suddenly took notice.

“Who might this be, Instructor? That person—” “That is—” “A fellow disciple who once trained under our shared master.” “Then why not meet him yourself? They say he brings women along.” “Surely they aren’t dangerous.” “Then with your permission—” “Soldiers! Lower the moat’s drawbridge!” Sun Li’s group soon dismounted at the barbican gate and approached. When their eyes met, Luan Tingyu roared a welcome with outstretched arms. Sun Li likewise extended his hand—they clasped tightly, showing mutual joy after long separation.

“It’s been a while.” “Truly.” “I knew you were in Dengzhou, but why have you come here?” “Suddenly ordered to take up a post in Yunzhou, I was transferred here against my will by the general’s command.” “If it’s Yunzhou, that’s close to Liangshan Marsh.” “Exactly. Lately, the number of rioters has been increasing wildly, and there are unsettling rumors too. My transfer seems due to that as well.” “In fact, we’re now in the midst of battle with them here. Remarkable you weren’t intercepted by Liangshan’s forces along the way.”

“Well, I had heard,” said Sun Li. “That’s why I deliberately changed my route and came through the rear gate... Who were those three who just passed by?” “Those would be the esteemed sons of the Zhu family,” replied Luan Tingyu. “Did you see them?” “They merely cast a sidelong glance our way as they went by earlier—so those were the renowned Three Heroes of your esteemed family?” “You!”

And Luan Tingyu placed his hand on Sun Li’s shoulder. “How about trying your hand here for a while?” “It also aligns with the transfer orders you received.” “Among the attacking bandits is Song Jiang.” “If you capture him alive and send him to the capital, then break through Liangshan Marsh itself, you’ll achieve instant glory—the general’s seal will be yours for certain!”

“Hmm. If our fellow disciples were to confront the Song court’s imperial guard and array white steeds adorned with golden saddles on such a day—ah, how utterly exhilarating that would be!”

“Now, proceed to the main keep.” “I’ll introduce you to the young masters.” Due to these greetings and formalities, even the family patriarch Zhu Chaofeng made a rare appearance at that night’s dinner. Luan Tingyu had been in high spirits throughout.

“Lord.” “This is he.” “This is my old friend whom I mentioned to you earlier today—Sick Yuchi Sun Li.” “I am Sun Li.” “It is my honor to be received by your esteemed self.” “Ah, so it’s you.” “I hear you’ve been transferred to nearby Yunzhou under orders from the General Headquarters.” “That is correct.” “I humbly request your guidance in all matters hereafter.” “Not at all.” “Our household lies within your jurisdiction.” “We should be the ones seeking your esteemed acquaintance.” “And who might these others be?”

Yue He was momentarily flustered, but Sun Li immediately intervened and said, “These are from the Yunzhou government office.” As for Zou Yuan, Zou Run, Sun Xin, and the Xie brothers,

“All are Dengzhou soldiers and trusted subordinates of mine.” It was a display of quick thinking on his part. It seemed no one harbored doubts about this brilliant introduction. Neither Zhu Chaofeng nor the Three Heroes’ sons were ordinary men, yet the presence of Sun Li’s wife and an older woman in his party—perceived as traveling with female companions—undeniably fostered a lapse in vigilance. With horses laden with luggage and carriages in tow, this could only be seen as the relocation of a transferred military officer.

“Women are better off among themselves.”

With that, Chaofeng led them to the inner quarters, had them mingle with his wife, concubines, and maidservants, then returned to his original seat,

“Let us drink a toast.” Zhu Chaofeng was in such high spirits. During that cheerful conversation, Sun Li tentatively tried to sound out Zhu Long in the adjacent seat.

“Truly, this is an impregnable fortress.” “I can’t tell at all whether the enemy is attacking or not.”

"But Liangshan's attackers grind their teeth day and night, probing at some weak spot." "They'll never reach you. In the end, they're no match." "Not with their meager strength." "Yet outcomes remain unforeseeable." "Nor can they force a swift conclusion." "For if those rats choose flight, they'll cross waters and vanish beyond those sighing reeds." "Ah, but by then official naval forces will mobilize." "With this unworthy one stationed at Yunzhou—"

"I leave it in your capable hands."

Thus came the third day. No sooner had an ominous disturbance arisen through watchtowers and gates than a lone ally rider clad in resplendent iron armor— “Song Jiang himself leads an army advancing to attack!” —raced round and round the castle grounds proclaiming this.

“What? Song Jiang?!”

As Zhu Long was about to rise immediately, his third son Zhu Biao restrained him, “No—I’ll go.” “Leave it to me.” “I’ll go catch him and bring him back.”

they argued. No sooner had he spoken than he leaped out from the camp stool area, had the moat’s drawbridge lowered, and charged ahead leading about a hundred cavalry subordinates.

A century’s worth of ill-gotten wealth relieved the destitute in a single day; the Liangshan Marsh army withdrew. Watchtower, city gate, city walls. Every single one of the countless faces within had their mouths gaping wide open. It was a war cry. Along with this, gongs and drums thundered ceaselessly. It was cheers of support for their allies who had gone outside the city walls. In the blink of an eye, Zhu Biao’s unit—as if triumphantly victorious—crossed the moat’s drawbridge and withdrew back inside the manor gate with a thunderous clamor. The winch-operated drawbridge was cranked up high with a creaking sound as soon as their allies were inside.

“Pathetic! That coward Song Jiang!” “That coward-scum Song Jiang!”

Zhu Biao came to the manor’s camp stools area where a large crowd was gathered and immediately declared, “When I heard it was Song Jiang, I sallied forth to crush him—but what do you know? The one who came out to face me was Hua Rong of Liangshan Marsh, that so-called ‘Little Li Guang’ they praise for his archery.” “Hardly worth calling an opponent—he ran off without even crossing blades with me…” “There wasn’t a shred of challenge in it!” In this section of the encampment stood Zhu Chaofeng at the forefront, flanked by his sons—Zhu Long and Zhu Hu—known as the Three Heroes of the Zhu clan, along with martial arts instructor Luan Tingyu and other key Zhu family members, all arrayed in full armor.

And in another corner. There was a group who had skillfully used their old connection with Luan Tingyu to maintain their guise as guests within the manor. Namely, Sun Li (Sick Yuchi), Sun Xin, Zou Yuan and Zou Run, along with the Xie brothers and Yue He (Iron Whistle)—seven members in total—were keeping a low profile to avoid attracting notice, but—

“Ah, Third Young Master.”

Then, from among them, Sun Li spoke up uncharacteristically. "It's only natural that the enemy's Song Jiang hasn't shown himself and that Hua Rong the archer turned tail to flee." "I consider this perfectly reasonable."

"What? What do you mean by that, Sun Li?"

“What do you mean by that, Sun Li?” “Because no fool would come out seeking death in plain sight. If you—especially you among the renowned Three Heroes of the Zhu clan, whose valor echoes far and wide—were to suddenly charge onto the front lines yourself, it would be like sweeping away mere leaves. Then there could hardly be any battle to speak of.” “Ha ha ha! That makes sense.”

When Zhu Biao burst into laughter, his father Chaofeng and everyone in the hall clapped their hands, “This is quite the conundrum!” and they swayed with laughter for a while.

A banquet began. Various strategic plans came up as topics of discussion. Iron Whistle Yue He, seizing the opportune moment,

“How about some entertainment?” He sang his signature song with gusto and, when requested, performed Zhuge Kongming’s “Ode to Wuzhangyuan” on his finger whistle for all to hear. “This is excellent!” “This isn’t some amateur performance! What an amusing guest you are!” Thus did Yue He become the star of the hour, showered with thunderous cheers of “Bravo! Bravo!” Because of this, not only Sun Li’s band of seven guests but also Sun’s wife and Aunt Gu Dasao—who had infiltrated the inner chambers where Lady Chaofeng resided—completely won trust and affection, until eventually they were all treated without distinction within the city walls.

Then, about seven days later. “Alert! The Liangshan Marsh bandit army is charging across the moat toward us with even greater force than before!”

With this, an uproar spread throughout the outer gate area, and they repeatedly sought instructions from Chaofeng and the commanders in the encampment. Having repeatedly let the enemy general Song Jiang escape, this time, the Three Heroes of the Zhu clan spoke in unison,

“Do not panic! Let them be! For now, let the enemy do as they will—observe their movements,” commanded. However, leaving them unchecked would lead to disaster. The besiegers outside the city walls shot fire arrows, breached dikes, filled moats, and felled giant trees to make rafts—there was no telling what would come next.

Upon hearing this, Zhu Long, Zhu Hu, and Zhu Biao—the three brothers— “Insolent wretches!” Driven into a rage, they had the drawbridge lowered and charged out from the manor gate like a sudden gale. In the enemy ranks, “Panther Head Lin Chong!” There stood a general who announced himself as such. Zhu Long and Zhu Hu charged toward him, but Panther Head’s form flickered like heat haze amidst the chaotic army—and when the brothers, exhausted from pursuit and combat, suddenly realized—

“Oh no, this is bad!” Realizing they had ventured too far from the castle in their pursuit, they finally turned their horses back. Zhu Biao, the third son, too, had merely thrashed about amidst the enemy’s raging waves without even catching a glimpse of Song Jiang before retreating fruitlessly back within the walls. The next day, and the day after that, the battle situation remained unchanged—a relentless cycle of attacks and counterattacks locked in stalemate.

Then, on the third day.

The continental evening sky blazed crimson across its entire expanse.—From behind the besiegers’ ranks, a group formed into a wheel-shaped array pressed steadily forward toward the moat’s edge. Upon seeing a single banner fluttering high in the evening wind, the soldiers inside the city walls,

“Th-that’s… That’s Song Jiang!” “That must be Song Jiang’s main force!” they clamored. “Begone, Song Jiang! “Now, the decisive battle!”

As they forced open the outer gate, lowered the drawbridge, and spit on their hands in anticipation while facing the Three Heroes of the Zhu clan—the three brothers—at this moment, “Now, wait a moment.” The one who stopped them was Sun Li, known as Sick Yuchi, a guest of the manor. “If you take the lead and charge out now, we’ll end up letting that prized big fish slip away again. First, allow me and Sun Xin to borrow a unit and lead the charge. You three lie in wait under the shadow of the outer gate, and once you see that we have cut off Song Jiang’s retreat, how about crossing the drawbridge all at once to surround them?”

“Hmm.” “That’s a good plan.” “Then lead the vanguard.” “Here—I grant you this horse.”

The eldest brother Zhu Long gave his beloved horse to Sun Li. It was a jet-black horse named "Wuzhui".

Amidst the roaring of battle drums and war cries, Sun Li and Sun Xin’s unit charged toward the enemy’s front lines,

“Thieves of Liangshan Marsh! Do you not know that within this Zhu Chaofeng household, Sun Li of the Dengzhou garrison and his subordinates have been guests here for some time now?” “I’ll bind every last one of you and haul you in for the authorities—prepare yourselves!”

He first roared in a voice so loud that it could be heard not only by the enemy but even by the rear castle gate. Instantly, battle dust swirled up like smoke. Amidst countless human whirlpools, countless swords and halberds flashed and darted. From Song Jiang’s ranks came a sharp whistle. “Oh! If you can capture me, try taking me alive! I’m none other than Mu Hong the Unrestrained!” Then, another. “Once a Jizhou executioner, now a man who has changed his allegiance to Liangshan Marsh—Sick Guan Suo Yang Xiong is here too!” Then, the next rider also charged forward fiercely while announcing his name.

“Desperate Third Brother Shi Xiu!” The situation was dire. Their formation stood unyielding. Shi Xiu and Sun Li crossed spears at once—neither giving ground—scattering sparks as their shafts clashed and tangled through dozens of furious exchanges, yet no end to the contest could be seen.

Sun Xin, on the other hand, was also locked in a fierce struggle. Surrounded by the two units of Mu Hong and Yang Xiong, and pressed by their fierce warriors, it even seemed perilous. The Three Heroes of the Zhu clan were watching the battle situation from the outer gate.

“How can we just keep watching?!” First, Zhu Long took the lead and galloped forth—tak, tak! He galloped across the moat’s drawbridge. Then, at that moment, Sun Li captured the enemy general Shi Xiu alive beside his horse’s saddle and brought him—

“Ah, Eldest Young Master. Have this one bound and kept inside the walls.” He flung the man before Zhu Long.

“What? You captured him alive? Well done, Sun Li!” Zhu Long immediately ordered his subordinates to bind Shi Xiu with ropes and send him inside the outer gate. No sooner had they done so than he wheeled his horse around and charged back into the midst of the enemy. Zhu Biao and Zhu Hu, of course, were not lagging behind their brother. Suddenly, Song Jiang’s forces began a full retreat. However, it was already dusk. They had won, but once again, in the end, they let Song Jiang escape. The city welcomed a night of bonfires glowing crimson with songs of triumph, and in the manor’s main compound, everyone—

"Another prisoner was added."

they opened wine jugs and seethed with the revelry of the camp feast.

Zhu Chaofeng was in remarkably high spirits. "Our guest has performed a great service," he said. "Now, my sons—how many prisoners from Liangshan Marsh have we captured since the battles began?" he inquired as casually as if discussing wine accompaniments.

The second son, Zhu Hu, replied. “With today’s prisoner—the one called Shi Xiu—added, it makes exactly seven. First captured was Shi Qian, then the spy Yang Lin, followed by Huang Xin, Wang Aihu, Qin Ming, and Deng Fei—every last one of them notable figures from Liangshan Marsh.” “Hmm. Eventually, we will load them all into prison carts and send them to the court in Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital, to receive accolades from the Emperor. But until then, you must not let them be damaged.” “Take good care of them.”

“Indeed, indeed. The prisoners must also be kept presentable,” chimed in Sun Li, who was seated at the guest table.

"My esteemed sons," "All that remains is to capture Song Jiang alive." "If we add Song Jiang to our captives, the name of the Zhu Family's Three Heroes will resound throughout the capital." "But tell me—has the surveillance until their transport been thoroughly handled?" "Without doubt." "In the Third Warehouse among Guobei's eighteen storehouses—each prisoner had been locked in cages." "The battle chaos left us stretched thin." "Yet when sending them to the capital, keeping their appearance presentable was indeed necessary." "Starting tomorrow, we'll feed them ample meat."

For the next several days, there were no attacks from the Liangshan Marsh army.

During that time, Sun Li's group had completed their investigation of all passageways, hidden paths, and connections to the inner areas within the fortress walls. Auntie Tigress and Sun Li’s wife too wore expressions of covert understanding. Yue He meanwhile, avoiding prying eyes, would occasionally stroll along the embankment of the fortress walls, blowing a carefree whistle toward the far side of the moat. But needless to say, this was by no means idle amusement.

The day they had been waiting for had finally arrived. On this day, Song Jiang altered his usual tactics, dividing his entire force into four armies and advancing on the fortress from all four sides. Moreover, above each of the four armies they unfurled central army flags and had them vigorously raise war drums and battle cries, making each unit appear as if it were Song Jiang's main camp.

However, since Liangshan Marsh could not possibly have such a large army, this must have been a feint orchestrated by Song Jiang, who had rounded up local farmers and laborers to make them beat war drums. Yet the commotion within the castle walls was anything but trivial,

“Ah! It seems the attackers have called for reinforcements from Liangshan Marsh and launched a desperate all-out assault. Now, Luan Tingyu—join forces with my sons and slaughter them in one stroke!” With Zhu Chaofeng himself standing on the command platform to direct operations, the defenders also threw their full strength into defending all four sides. Thus, the Three Heroes of the Zhu Family each split off to fight fiercely outside the manor gates—and even Luan Tingyu, who never left Commander Chaofeng’s side, led a unit to sally forth from the rear.

Inevitably, the fortress interior was now completely undermanned. The moment they saw this, somewhere—

“Oh! Sorry to keep you waiting! The preparations are ready! Guests who’ve been lodging here—now, each of you take your positions!” As Sick Yuchi Sun Li’s booming voice rang out, Iron Whistle Yue He’s piercing finger-whistle suddenly assaulted Zhu Chaofeng’s ears. “Wh-what’s that?!” Chaofeng grew suspicious. But there was no time for bewilderment. Charging up the steps of the command platform where he stood came Sun Xin, Yue He, Zou Yuan, and Zou Run—the four guests—each brandishing a sword in hand.

“Zhu Chaofeng! Face your end!” they came slashing at him. The soldiers on both sides were stunned and fought defensively amidst the flurry of blades, while Zhu Chaofeng leapt over the railing and tumbled down beneath the command platform. But below, Sun Li was waiting with spear poised, so Zhu Chaofeng grew ever more frantic in his flight until he finally ran to the boundary of the women’s quarters and hurled himself into a deep stone well.

Sun Li, who had chased after him, propped one foot on the edge of the well and peered inside. “Just as planned.” With that, he raised his spear upside down and stabbed downward with a splash, killing the figure at the bottom of the well. Then, turning to Yue He who had arrived afterward, he said: “Iron Whistle. Go to the back immediately and help Auntie Tigress and my wife. And make sure not to kill Madame Zhu or the maidservants—just corral them into one of the women’s quarters.” With that rapid command issued, he himself went flying through the air toward Third Warehouse among Guobei’s eighteen storehouses.

By now, the squad of warehouse guards had been struck down all around, and the iron door of the Third Warehouse had been utterly destroyed. The ones who had attacked there were Xie Zhen and Xie Bao at the forefront, along with their comrades' subordinates who had recently been disguised as retainers in the group, infiltrated the faction, and stayed over. Needless to say, it was to rescue the seven who had been imprisoned here: Shi Qian, Yang Lin, Huang Xin, Short Tiger, Qin Ming, Deng Fei, and Shi Xiu.

“Set it on fire!” “No—leave the warehouses alone! Afterwards, these’ll be our spoils!” “Then the watchtower!” “That’s right! Let’s smash through the manor gate first!” “Scatter the horse provisions and burn down the command platform!”

It was the sudden eruption of so many stalwarts bursting forth from the fortress's heart. The phrase "a cauldron boiling over" did not begin to suffice. At the same time from the rear came Auntie Tigress, Sun Li’s wife, Yue He, and others rushing to gather. What was struck with shock were Luan Tingyu’s forces and each Zhu brother’s unit battling outside the city walls—along with their very battlefield.

“Wh-what?! That smoke?!” “That smoke?” Luan Tingyu, who had turned back across the drawbridge, found himself trapped between Sun Li’s forces blocking the entrance and pursuers attacking from behind, resulting in a desperate standoff on the bridge. Meanwhile, Zhu Long and Zhu Hu, equally startled by the flames engulfing their stronghold, were ambushed on their return by Lü Fang and Guo Sheng’s ambush party, meeting an inevitable end.

Only the third son, Zhu Biao, "This must be betrayal from within the city!"

Realizing this, he escaped the deathtrap and fled to the Hu Family Manor—the very manor of the clan ruled by Hu Cheng, brother of the renowned Hu Sanniang. However, Hu Cheng had already formed a secret non-aggression pact with Song Jiang in exchange for guarantees of his sister's safety. Thus, he shut the gates and refused Zhu Biao entry. Exhausted from battle, Zhu Biao was relentlessly pursued by Li Kui the Black Whirlwind and ultimately met his end beneath the twin axes. Now, had Li Kui stopped here, he might have been considered a decent man. But disregarding the secret pact between Song Jiang and Hu Cheng, he proceeded to smash through the manor gate, slaughter all the family servants, and set the place ablaze. Because of this, Hu Cheng barely escaped with his life to Yan’an Prefecture, where later he would serve as a notable general in the Song Dynasty’s restoration efforts.

But that is a story for later.

Song Jiang was at headquarters that day when he received the report. “Bring Li Kui here!” he commanded, and upon seeing him, erupted with unprecedented fury. “You brute! You ignoramus! Did Hu Cheng not come bearing gifts to offer surrender? You—who gorged on that meat and guzzled that wine—knew full well of this pact! Then why slaughter every last family member of those who surrendered?” “Well now,” Li Kui retorted, “Was that forbidden? As for that Ten Feet of Green wench from Hu Manor—didn’t you nurse some hellish grudge against her yourself?”

“To cast aside grudges defines surrender—and harmony,” Song Jiang declared. “Your slaying of Zhu Biao negates any merit. Withdraw to the rear camp and remain confined.” “Hah!” Li Kui retorted. “Confinement again? Why is it that whenever I accomplish something, my ‘reward’ always becomes confinement?” He pursed his lips in a pout and shuffled away with feigned indifference. Yet this despondent figure stood alone in his disgrace.

With Sun Li and Sun Xin at the forefront, those who had long been captives within the city walls came to stand before Song Jiang. “A joyous occasion!”

they rejoiced at being reunited alive, and also, “This great achievement stems entirely from Sick Yuchi and your group’s ingenious stratagem.” Song Jiang thanked Sun Li and his men earnestly for their labors. He immediately ordered the city’s treasures to be transported outside. For these were the accumulated stores of the Zhu Family Manor—equal to those of a prince ruling ten thousand households. Weapons, explosives, grains, carriages—among the inner furnishings lay silks, threads, oils, gold and silver—while pastures held cattle, sheep, mules, horses, ducks and more. Collecting all this required seven full days.

“Let’s transport all of this to Liangshan Marsh.”

Strategist Wu Yong proposed this, but Song Jiang showed opposition. “We are called thieves by the world,” he declared. “But within our ranks, we’ve sworn this ironclad rule—even as robbers, we must not end as mere villains! We must repay society with at least one good deed. By crushing the Zhu Family here—those who grew fat for years making serfs weep under cruel whips—we act as Heaven’s instrument! Therefore,” his voice hardened, “the greater share of this plunder should go to the impoverished people.”

“Very well.” “If it concerns bestowing virtue—from myself, Wu Yong, down to every member of Liangshan Marsh—there can naturally be no objection.”

“Very well.” ...When Shi Xiu had previously infiltrated enemy territory, there had been an old man named Zhongli who, without seeking any gain, had kindly sheltered him for a night. “What if we appoint that old man as superintendent for alms to the poor and have him handle it?” He promptly sent Shi Xiu as a messenger, summoned Zhongli, and assigned him the task of distributing the plundered goods. This too proved no small task. After all, just the grains and provisions alone amounted to over five hundred thousand koku. Yet through this, tens of thousands of households under Dulonggang’s rule were lavished with aid as if in a dream—and they too now

“Whatever we can do…”

Through their labor, they expressed their joy to Song Jiang’s righteous army. Thus, the transport of the remaining spoils proceeded without difficulty, and before long, Song Jiang’s entire army withdrew completely from there. Along the road toward Shandong’s Liangshan Marsh—they formed a serpentine column, boiling with songs of triumph—

However, there still remained an unfortunate sage there—that Sky-Soaring Eagle, Li Ying.

He was a relative of the now-destroyed Zhu Chaofeng family—in other words, one branch of the Zhu clan.

At the outset of events, he had positioned himself between both factions out of concern for the main family's interests, exerting every effort to mediate peaceably. Yet this very act bred suspicion among the clan leader's sons instead. From that day, he kept his gates firmly shut, remaining wholly detached from recent conflicts while quietly recovering from his arrow wound— until word reached him now that Zhu Chaofeng, patriarch of the main house, along with his Three Heroes, had perished alongside their ancestral fortress.

"Ah, it couldn’t be helped." Those who grow arrogant will not endure. "Is this too samsara?" He sat alone, despondently lamenting.

However, before long, even to Li Ying's gate came the wave of calamity—as if determined to leave none untouched by disaster—when one day, a clamorous group of seventy or eighty men came pressing in.

Song Jiang kept his promise and selected a bride and groom.

“In the 'Special Performance Segment,' actress Bai Xiuying makes an appearance.” “This one is Pei Tiemian, an officer of Dengzhou who has come bearing a magistrate’s warrant,” he declared. “Bring forth the master of this house—Li Ying! Should you refuse compliance, we shall have no choice but to arrest you through official authority.” Their imposing presence filled the courtyard. The entire household erupted into panicked disarray.

Li Ying still had one hand bandaged and slung from his neck. Upon hearing this commotion, he changed his robes, quietly rose from his sickbed, and went to confront the officials. “I am Li Ying,” he stated calmly, “but there must be some misunderstanding.” “I recall no actions that would warrant arrest.”

“Silence! A joint accusation has been submitted by the dispersed wives and retainers of the Zhu Family. According to this document, though you belong to the Zhu clan, you deliberately instigated conflict with Liangshan Marsh, guided them to annihilate the main family, and secretly agreed to later claim a share of the estate’s lands and treasures. If you have any defense, present it before His Honor the Magistrate.”

“This is utterly bizarre,” said Li Ying. “This must be slander from someone. Nevertheless, as a precaution, I must request you show me both that deranged widow’s supposed accusation and the magistrate’s handwritten arrest warrant.” “There! Have a good look,” snapped Pei Tiemian. “Well? What say you now?”

“I see…” “Hmm, this is indeed Dengzhou’s official seal, and the accusation also appears legitimate, but…”

“You’ve got no excuses left now.” “Bind him with rope—now!”

Next, the officer continued, "That retainer of our household called Du Xing or whatever." "Did you capture that one too?"

“Have you captured him too?” he said to the men behind him.

Du Xing was already bound. Seeing that, Li Ying also resigned himself. This was a false charge he had no recollection of. There was nothing for it but to explain himself openly in a public court, he thought.

Surrounded by a large crowd of officers, constables, jailers and others as he was made to ride a horse, to his family—elderly, women and children—who were seeing him off in tears, “Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.” Li Ying departed through the village gate, even managing to show a casual smile. Thus leaving Li Family Manor behind, they hurried some eighty or ninety li and came upon a thicket of mixed trees.

“Halt!”

A shout shattered the silence.

The one who stood blocking their path was none other than Lin Chong, the Leopard Head. Following next were Song Jiang, Hua Rong, Yang Xiong, Shi Xiu, and others. In no time, the magistrate’s officers and their subordinates— “Ah! It’s the Liangshan Marsh bastards!”

As if they had seen a specter in broad daylight, they abandoned even the escort horses carrying Li Ying and Du Xing there and scattered like spiderlings. “What an unexpected calamity you’ve endured,” said Song Jiang, immediately having their bonds untied— “In truth, we’ve been waiting for you. Mr. Soaring Eagle, please come with us to Liangshan Marsh for now. We will not treat you poorly.”

“Oh.” “You are the renowned Song Gongming?” “That’s correct.” “Though I am unworthy.”

“Precisely. I understand your self-deprecation well. This Li Ying has not yet idled away his days enough to join the company of those who lurk in shadows.”

“But even if you escape today, the authorities will never let this matter rest. When Liangshan’s forces stirred up such turmoil right under their jurisdiction—” “It becomes their own failure.” “They’re certain to lay all blame at your feet alone.” “No—whatever hardships await me—” “Doesn’t this scrupulousness of yours border on obstinacy?” “Would it not be wiser to let the residual heat here dissipate, wait until the surroundings calm, then return to society? All matters would then resolve themselves without incident.”

Du Xing also urged him, and Wu Yong, in his characteristic manner of persuasion, fervently added his entreaties. Thereupon, Li Ying finally broke his resolve, joined the group, and eventually became one of Liangshan Marsh's men.

That said, this was Soaring Eagle Li Ying—a man of upright principles. He adamantly regarded this place as a temporary shelter and never once showed any sign of warming to the hospitality of the daily banquets in the Assembly Hall.—That day as well, upon seeing Chao Gai, leader of the Liangshan forces,

“Commander, I beg of you. It has already been five days today. I’m concerned about my family as well. For now, please let me out of here and send me home.”

he pleaded with a touch of sorrow in his voice.

Then Chao Gai looked at Song Jiang and Wu Yong beside him, smiled meaningfully, and consulted them.

“What do you think, gentlemen? Mr. Soaring Eagle has been insisting so persistently—”

“Ha ha ha ha.” “Magistrate Li.” “That concern of yours is downright peculiar, Magistrate Li.” “Why do you say that， Strategist Wu?” “Why do you say that， Strategist Wu?” “Because your family no longer resides at Li Family Manor.” “What? They’re gone—” “Then where are they?” “Right here.”

“Here…?” “Of course—Liangshan Marsh. Just now, there was a report from the tea shop across from Jinshatan. They should arrive before long.” What nonsense was this? There were limits to mocking people. Li Ying concealed his look of displeasure as if he had interpreted it exactly that way. Yet this was no lie. Before long, from below the mountain stronghold, figures began appearing—a crowd climbing upward in an ant-like procession. As they drew closer, Li Ying gasped—“Ah!” Within them he could see his wife and children—even his father-in-law and servants who had served for years were there. No—were those not familiar household furnishings too, loaded onto the backs of over a hundred people and dozens of donkeys and oxen as they approached?

“What in the world is this?”

He ran out and first asked his wife. The wife and elders spoke in unison, chiming in variously. “Oh, my lord! Thank heavens you’re unharmed.” “It was that very night when you were taken to the prefectural office.” “Then another group of about a hundred people came—gave us no chance to refuse—did exactly as they pleased and dragged us here without a word.” “We have nowhere left to return to.” “As soon as we left the manor, the mansion went up in flames.”

Li Ying could only stand dumbfounded as he heard this. Then Song Jiang came hurrying up from behind, knelt before him with arms crossed as though about to prostrate himself, and begged: “Please forgive us.” “We deceived you completely.” “For years we had heard of your renowned name—Soaring Eagle Li Ying—and admired your noble character. Our only desire was to bring you into our fold.” “We implore your understanding.” “And we earnestly pray you will grant this heartfelt wish of ours.”

“Then who in the world were those officials?”

“The one who posed as the prefectural official’s assistant was our comrade Iron-Faced Judge Pei Xuan.” “Ah… that famous—” “The two officers were Xiao Rang, the master forger, and Jin Dajian, the expert seal engraver.” “The rest of the arrest officers included Li Jun, Ma Lin, Zhang Shun, and others—all of whom will remove their disguises and formally apologize at tonight’s banquet.” “As for your wife and the elderly and young of your family—we will never cause them hardship here.” “It’s only until we have you build a peaceful village here.” “Master Li Ying, I earnestly ask you to steel your resolve.”

“Ah, you’ve gone to such lengths for my sake.” Li Ying finally bent at the waist and took Song Jiang’s hand. He pressed that hand to his forehead. “A scholar dies for one who knows him. There is no alternative.” “Let us die.” “Let us think of ourselves as having died and been reborn here.”

“In time you will understand—this stems from the predestined bond of celestial stars dwelling upon earth. Without doubt, you too are assuredly one of those heavenly stars fated to descend temporarily to this realm under covenant.”

These words likely struck Li Ying as merely bizarre. No—this was a concept of predestined fate that only Song Jiang had grasped. After casting forth the mysterious dream oracle he once witnessed and the celestial text granted him then, he had come to vaguely believe this congregation of peculiar lives within Liangshan Marsh was indeed an unfathomable thing—precisely of such nature.

The mountains seemed drunk, the waves sang, and even horses, sheep, and ducks appeared ready to dance—this “day of revelry” transformed the marsh’s interior into an innocent paradise untouched by worldly cares for one full day. This served to formally announce to the entire mountain stronghold both the joy of welcoming Li Ying and twelve new recruits. Nor was it without significance as a harvest celebration for the vast plunder brought over from Zhu Family Manor. Who then were these twelve newcomers? Li Ying stood apart in a class of his own.

First were Sun Li and Sun Xin, followed by Xie Zhen, Xie Bao, Zou Yuan, Zou Run, Du Xing, Yue He, and Shi Qian. Among the women were Hu Sanniang the Ten Feet of Green; the proprietress of Auntie Tavern, Gu Dasao (Mother Tiger); and Sun Li’s wife, who was Yue He’s aunt. That is all.

At the grand banquet welcoming these newcomers, Song Jiang suddenly spoke up. “How about this,” he said. “On this auspicious day, I would like to propose a bride and groom and serve as their matchmaker.”

“Wait, who’s marrying whom?” The entire assembly stirred with anticipation. In an anchorage generally wanting in feminine charm and fragrance, this occasion rivaled a seasonal blossom viewing.

“The bride is Hu Sanniang the Ten Feet of Green.” “And the groom is—” The hall fell silent. From seemingly out of nowhere, a ripple of sighs—hot and musky—spread through the air. “Compared to the bride, he may be slightly inferior in martial arts and refinement of character, but I ask her to overlook this and reluctantly accept him as her husband—that man there is Wang Aihu.” “…Aihu the womanizer.” “…In truth, to curb his desires, back when we were at Qingfeng Mountain, I once promised that if he would often discipline himself, I would surely find him a good wife someday.” “A man’s word is his bond.” “However, in Liangshan Marsh, good matches were hard to come by, and I have borne this as a weight on my equanimity.” “What do you say, Hu Sanniang?”

The people were once again struck by Song Jiang’s unyielding righteousness. Particularly since Hu Sanniang had been taken captive and brought here, there had been no lack of muttered criticisms against Song Jiang. Whispers like “Master Song must surely have designs of his own” had circulated. Now that this matter had been publicly declared, they could not help bursting into rowdy applause. Wang Aihu scrubbed at his joyful tears with a fist, while Hu Sanniang kept her face lowered, cheeks flushed maple-red. Yet she appeared deeply moved by Song Jiang’s genuine intent and at last nodded meekly in acceptance.

Just then. That afternoon, amidst such joyous festivities. From the distant lookout tavern on the opposite shore, Zhu Gui's regular messenger came racing across in a boat to deliver news.

“The Arrest Officer of Yunzhou, Mr. Lei Heng, has been sayin’ that while travelin’ or whatnot, he’d like to meet with the Commander and Master Song Jiang.”

“What? Mr. Lei Heng from Yunzhou?” “That man is our benefactor.” “Go welcome him courteously at once.”

Chao Gai, Song Jiang, and Wu Yong also heard this and rejoiced greatly. Surely he too must have been driven out by the corruption in officialdom and finally resolved to join Liangshan Marsh. However, this was nothing more than empty rejoicing. When they met him, the circumstances were somewhat different from what they had expected.

“Truth is, I was returning from official business in Dongchang Prefecture ordered by the Magistrate. I had no intention of stopping by there—just drinking at Zhu Gui’s teahouse—when they must’ve thought I reeked of suspicion. Suddenly his underlings came charging to beat me down. Having no choice, I gave my name and took the chance to ask after everyone’s welfare—that’s all there is to it.” “Well, this is truly... Ever since that time, I haven’t had the chance to meet you, though I’ve often heard tales and fondly remembered you.” “Zhu Gui’s rudeness proved a blessing in disguise.” “To witness your robust health on this unforeseen day—no joy could be greater than this.”

When Song Jiang spoke, Wu Yong and Chao Gai joined in unison,

“Please take your ease. Were it not for such an occasion as this, we would have no means to express our sincerity.” “I am grateful, but this concerns urgent official business.”

“Well, please don’t say such things.” “Then I’ll impose on you for at least one night.” “No—stay as many days as you like.” “That won’t do.”

“Won’t you stay? How regrettable.” “What a pity indeed.”

Amidst their hospitable attentions, they subtly tried to broach the subject of joining their ranks, but Lei Heng seemed to have no inclination whatsoever. "My mother is advanced in years, so I cannot leave my hometown." And with that, the conversation turned to concerns about an elderly mother. So, in the end, after staying only one day in between, on the day after next, "If fate allows us to meet again,"

With that, Lei Heng briskly slipped on his straw sandals and bade farewell. With no alternative now, the three escorted him by boat to Jinsha Beach, emerged onto the highway, and as they parted ways,

“Perhaps something as a gift for your elderly mother.” ...and presented him with a bag of gold and silver. He tried to refuse, saying he couldn’t accept such a thing, but at the three’s forceful urging, he finally tucked it into his pocket and departed. After seeing him off, the three peeked into Zhu Gui’s shop,

“Right, let’s send Yue He over to help out at this shop as well. It’s fortunate this was just a misunderstanding, but we can’t risk any incidents.”

he muttered. Following this, the three leaders aboard their boat returning from Jinsha Beach took advantage of their increased membership numbers to deliberate on reorganizing the mountain stronghold’s defenses. For one of the four lookout taverns positioned in each cardinal direction—east, west, south, and north—they resolved to assign Sun Xin as support for Auntie Tigress. The newlywed couple—Short-Tailed Tiger Wang and Ten-Foot Green Snake Hu—were designated as horse overseers at the pasture on the rear mountain. Du Xuan and Song Wan received orders to guard Wanzicheng’s second gate. Liu Tang and Mu Hong were stationed at the third gate marking the main enclosure’s boundary.

The water stronghold at Nanshan was entrusted to the three Ruan brothers. Moreover, at every suitable location—the shipyard, smithy, treasury bureau, weaving workshop, construction brigade, dairy processing plant, lookout tower unit, warehouse division, patrol and security department, and others—the right talents were placed. Along the water’s edge, towering and unshakable, at least here in this stronghold, wisdom to ensure no capable individual was left idle had been devised as naturally as earth and water flowing in harmony.

Meanwhile.

As for Lei Heng,

“Mother, I’m home.”

Upon entering his home in Yuncheng County, Lei Heng first visited his elderly mother’s room. The next day, he promptly went to the county office to report on the essential duties from his business trip. With this finally done and feeling somewhat unburdened, he returned home as the evening breeze swept through the town streets. Then there was Li Xiao’er—a local idler. The moment they met,

“Oh sir! What a rare sight this is!” “When did you return?”

“Well—I’ve only just returned.” “I’m still tired from the journey.” “That’s a bit too sudden, but how about it, sir? How about an entertaining tent theater... no—or rather, not exactly a play... a water performer, you see? Won’t you go take a look, sir?” “Hmm, so there are traveling performers here in this area?” “I hear they’re from the capital.” “She’s a real beauty, I tell ya.” “No—more than anything, their singing, instrumental performances, light comedy—whatever they do, they’re head and shoulders above other rural troupes.”

"You're really taken with them, aren't you? If they're that good, I'd definitely want to let Mother see them. I'll fix up a bento soon and take Mother along to watch." "Sir... Sir? Huh? You're leaving already? Tch... Get lost then." Though Lei Heng looked demonic when leading arrest officers, he was an odd creature indeed. He hadn't an ounce of sense when it came to his own mother. "Hmph. What a dull man."

While Lei Heng was filial, from his elderly mother's perspective there remained one concern about her son. He had a bad habit. To put it plainly - his conduct when drinking left much to be desired. "Well now. Don't fret so, Mother. Even Lei Heng won't be at an age to trouble you forever. What's more, as someone serving at the government office - and with the new magistrate having taken post - I've sworn off drink completely this time. Since returning from my travels, I haven't so much as touched a cup."

Lei Heng had been telling his mother. In fact, he wasn’t drinking at home. He had publicly declared his abstinence even when outside, but his friends were entirely different. They didn’t trust him at all. That evening as well, at a street-side tavern on his way home from the government office, he ended up being made to drink by his evil companions. Or rather, it was due to his inherent stubbornness that he indulged. When one’s resolve for abstinence was suddenly broken, it conversely led to excess. Oh no. He kept lamenting that he couldn’t let his hardworking mother see him in such a drunken disarray. But even after parting ways with his friends, the intoxication refused to fade.

Then, the lively theater music flowed into his ears. Ah—this must be that tent theater Li Xiao’er had been talking about. The calls at the gatehouse, the fluttering of banners. Drawn by these sounds, Lei Heng staggered through the gate entrance as though swimming. The government office’s authority had ingrained itself into his unconscious habits. The theater staff—well-versed in protocol—

“Hey, it’s the county sir!” With that, they ushered him to a premium seat among the audience. Though called such, it was merely a plank seat and a log handrail. In any case, Lei Heng’s purpose was to sober up, so he soon propped his cheek on it and dozed off. On stage, Bai Xiuying—the water-artist female performer—had just bathed in the audience’s thunderous applause and swiftly vanished behind the brocade curtain. To the accompaniment of an ensemble of Chinese fiddles, flutes, barbarian drums, xylophones, and gongs, three young girls in crimson costumes danced a wild flurry of flames, keeping the audience entertained for a time. ——They withdrew. The piece changed. ——This time, an old man in white robes and black obi—a peacock fan pressed to his chest—shuffled unsteadily to center stage in pointed shoes. Letting out an “ahem,” he first drew laughter from the audience,

“Once again, we are graced by your daily patronage.” “This humble one, Bai Yuqiao, is in a state of utmost delight.” “The water performance by Daughter Bai Xiuying that just received your applause is still merely the opening act.” “Though her skills are humble, they were rigorously trained in the authentic style of Kaifeng’s Eastern Capital—the flower capital—where she honed her craft in its prestigious training halls.” “It differs considerably from ordinary street performances.” “This marks her debut in this locale.” “Auspicious bonds of good fortune.” “She herself is brimming with enthusiasm and insists on sparing no effort to present a once-in-a-lifetime performance for your esteemed eyes. Thus, we humbly ask you to kindly grant us your gracious view and bestow your enduring favor upon us——Now then.”

There, Bai Yuqiao shifted the tone of his spiel and began outlining the next act’s plot—but Lei Heng, caught between dream and reality, nearly slipped from the elbow he’d been dozing on. With a start—as if suddenly remembering where he was—he jerked upright and fixed bloodshot eyes on the stage. Already on stage, whether a flower spirit or a swan apparition, there was a figure dancing and singing at the center of the hushed crowd. Could this be the popular actress Xiuying? A snow-white silk robe and mist-like sash; hair adorned with a charming coral hairpin—lips resembling cherries, eyelids akin to orchids. No—her gestures and movements were as supple as orchid leaves themselves. In her hands she concealed two castanets, becoming a fighting bird and a willow’s form—her steps moving in clack-clack rhythm, her swaying in bell-like cadence—as she proudly displayed the refined essence of her sophisticated “Kaifeng Bamboo Branch” dance, perfectly synchronized with the purple bamboo flute played below the stage.

“Indeed.” “The reputation isn’t for nothing.” Lei Heng too suddenly felt as if his eyes had been cleansed. The entire audience sent forth thunderous applause in unison. At that moment—as if he had been waiting for this—Bai Yuqiao in his pointed shoes came to Xiuying’s side and gave her shoulder a tap per their arrangement. “Oops, Madam. Haven’t you forgotten something?”

“Oh, how cruel! Are you saying there was something wrong with my dance?” “Nonsense! The Capital’s Premier Flower Courtesan. Even if a heavenly maiden were to fall from the clouds, would there ever be a flaw in your performance, Madam? What I meant by ‘forgotten items’ is…” “Oh. That matter.” “It’s commendable that you’re so absorbed in your art, but once in a while, you must look at the customers’ expressions and consider their feelings. Within this very applause, you must give a gratuity! Pass around the donation tray! And weren’t there such gracious voices among them? Before we proceed to the next act—how about it? Let us receive a token of your generosity here.”

“Well.” “How delightful.” “Then, by your gracious will!” With that, Bai Yuqiao placed one hand on his hip, thrust his other pointed shoe forward with a flick, and holding up the thin tray in his hand, surveyed the audience seats. “Ah, you’ve been waiting so eagerly!” “Truly, the patrons of this town are of a different class.” “Ah, look! Our generous patrons have already opened their purses.” “Now then! We shall now come around to each of you in turn to collect your generous contributions.” “What a stingy crowd of spectators we have here, Madam!” “You there—from the stage, use those eyes of yours to thank each and every one of them properly. ……Now then!” “This old man is now coming around to each of you in turn with the donation tray.” “There we go!” “This includes even the young misses and lads.” “……Well, well, thank you kindly.” “We are ever so grateful.”

Passing around the donation tray was common practice among traveling performers. The audience members understood this custom well. They knew showy patrons in gallery seats would lead with generous contributions. When the tray reached Lei Heng’s seat at last, Bai Yuqiao bent forward with exaggerated courtesy—urging commoners through “Luck in leftovers!” while prodding magnates with “A grand sum!”—and barked “Hey! Let’s get this started!” The one who froze was Lei Heng. Today had been his friend’s treat—since swearing off alcohol months ago he had resolved never to carry money while out drinking. He wanted desperately to contribute but found himself penniless. The situation grew excruciatingly awkward. “Oh no good,” he blurted out while clumsily patting his empty sleeves—a transparent attempt at saving face—“Seems I left my wallet at home.” “I’ll bring my mother back properly for another show day after tomorrow.” “And make amends handsomely then!”

“Heh heh heh… I’ve yet to meet a customer who says ‘thank you kindly’ but doesn’t pay up twice.”

“What the hell kind of laugh is that? You don’t need to stick out like that—your buck teeth are already way too damn visible.” “How terribly rude of me. The ones laughing are the customers. Well now, customers—how about this? Here’s a sir in the premium gallery seats putting on airs with his toothpick and tipsy swagger! All puffed up with that big face of his, yet too stingy to spare even a scrap of gratuity—trying to sweet-talk his way out by tearing down someone’s dignity! I’m just astounded, aren’t you? Just look at that miserly mug of his!”

“What? What did you call me? A stingy bastard?!” “No, sir. Spare me your crude remarks. We’re performers who live by our pride. Even a token shows goodwill. Even a penny or two tossed by a true patron would be welcome—but from a penniless lout like you with grime in your sleeves? We’d refuse it even if you offered. Tsk! Kicking and stumbling over some trifle—you’ve completely dampened the mood of all the customers here. Now, get those feet of yours out of the way. You’re blocking the way.”

“Shut your mouth, you bastard!” “Oh my, aren’t we putting on airs?” “Wh—what did you just spout?!” “Say it twice and you’ll catch a cold.” “The likes of you are quick to call it ‘all show and no substance’—that’s exactly what you are.” “Even if a dog’s head sprouted horns, mold wouldn’t grow on a blockhead like you—that’s what they say.” “You said it!”

What Lei Heng’s mother had always feared had no doubt come to pass. The moment he felt lightning sear through his temple, Bai Yuqiao’s body was already hurtling through the air from his punch, vanishing from sight. As the entire crowd in the makeshift theater surged to their feet in uproar, Bai Xiuying onstage—abandoning all pretense of performance—whirled in a shrieking dance, her frantic voice screeching for the musicians and backstage hands.

Outside the gate, a dried-up cat and a vixen were locked in a tussle—just another scene in this farce.

Lei Heng’s mother—who usually greeted mornings cheerfully and scurried about as busily as a house mouse—sat withdrawn on a small chair in the southern corridor this morning. ――She had spread out her son’s official uniform across her lap—the one he’d returned home in late last night reeking of drunken filth—brushing off mud and mending tears when suddenly her aged eyes widened at a stain resembling blood. “Oh... what has he done now?” …Even though he’d sworn so resolutely to abstain from drink and made such gentle promises to his mother… “…Boys will be boys—no matter how old they grow.”

And there she sat alone, nursing a wounded heart.

Just then, from the direction of the entrance came a clamor of many voices. When she went out to check, they were colleagues from the office where her son Lei Heng worked. "Come in, come in," the old mother said, hiding her distress as she amiably invited them inside. However, the office’s officers and constables remained standing stiffly outside, looking pitiful,

“Actually, this is on the Magistrate’s official orders…” First prefacing the statement, they said gently.

“How is Mr. Lei Heng doing?” “What is this about? My son came home very late last night, so he’s still fast asleep this morning.”

“Please wake him up immediately.” “This is an official order.” “There can be no delay.” “Yes, yes.” Lei Heng’s mother scurried back into the inner rooms. And after a short while, Lei Heng himself appeared—clothed, with eyelids still slightly swollen—

“Hey.”

And then he appeared there. No—there was no time for even a greeting. From both sides, colleagues who had rushed in swiftly clamped handcuffs on his wrists. “Chief.” “For us lower-ranking officers to do something like this to you must surely be unexpected and unwelcome, but as it’s the Magistrate’s order, there’s truly nothing we can do.” “Shut your eyes and just walk to last night’s makeshift theater gate.”

“Huh?” “You mean the makeshift theater?” “It’s the theater of Bai Xiuying—the traveling actress whose performance you so spectacularly disrupted last night, Chief.” “Ah, that…” Lei Heng was jolted sharply awake, his numbed mind snapping back to awareness. But he turned to his elderly mother with a nonchalant face.

“Ah, Mother, truth is, last night I got into a bit of a spur-of-the-moment quarrel with that theater person. ...There’s really no need for you to worry so much about it. I’ll be back soon,” he said, deliberately showing a smile to the subordinates as well while

“Let’s go. The new magistrate’s a reasonable man too. If I explain myself, he’ll understand.” With that, he briskly exited his home gate, taking the lead himself. However, when they reached the usual edge of town, the situation’s atmosphere proved anything but calm—last night’s commotion had left Bai Yuqiao, the theater manager, with one arm shattered, while the lower-tier members were bandaging heads or limping about. Moreover, with the stage performance canceled outright, even those customers now pressed before the theater,

“Return the admission fee!” “Either give us our money back or hand out free admission tickets for tonight again!”

And so, from noon onward, the place was already in a tremendous uproar.

From the county office came different officials who were quelling those crowds. And Lei Heng in handcuffs was made to hear the Magistrate's reprimand before a great multitude, then immediately bound beneath the flagpole at the theater entrance as a public display. The punitive decree read: County Arrest Officer: Lei Heng Though holding office as a peacekeeping officer, Indulged in wanton drunkenness, Caused theater disturbances and injured persons, Not only disrupted public order, But gravely damaged official prestige among the populace.

Therefore, He was sentenced to twenty-four hours of "public exposure". This punishment was left to the denunciation of the populace. Yuncheng County Magistrate The words on the signboard pierced Lei Heng through. Lei Heng was ashamed. It was exactly as the document stated, he thought. But he couldn’t remember more than half of what had happened last night. All he could remember was the flash of fury when he had been publicly humiliated by Bai Yuqiao, the theater manager. But that was the problem. It was his own innate bad drinking habit. He had sworn to his mother that he would quit drinking, and yet... ...So this was his punishment for being unfilial? He would resign himself and endure twenty-four hours of shame before the people. It was a bitter pill to swallow. And he, closing his eyes in resignation, remained bound to the flagpole.

However, under normal circumstances, the crowd’s mob mentality and their usual anti-authority sentiment should have naturally manifested as spitting at him, hurling insults, or pelting stones— “Oh, Master Lei Heng?” “Why ever…?”

However, while there were those who averted their eyes as if pitying him, there were scarcely any jeering side effects of people taking spiteful satisfaction. This was solely because Lei Heng, through his daily duties as chief constable, had not only never incurred public resentment over many years—neither abusing official authority nor fattening private coffers—but also because his reputation as a filial son, his kindness to the weak, and his chivalrous spirit had taken deep root among the townspeople at large.

Moreover, because he was well-regarded even among his subordinates and colleagues, those assigned as today’s punishment guards were clearly acting against their will. Before long, as the afternoon grew sparse with people, one of the guards quietly approached beneath the flagpole, “Chief... Just endure it for now.” “It’s just for one night... But even so, Chief, you didn’t know anything about it, did you?”

and inadvertently let Lei Heng hear something unexpected.

“Huh? What do you mean I didn’t know anything about it?” “It’s about the relationship between the newly appointed magistrate and the woman here, you see.” “Woman?” “Yes. The actress Bai Xiuying and the current magistrate have quite a long history between them, you see. After all, she’s a real beauty, you see. She’s not some traveling performer who’d come to this backwater to set up shop. The reason she came here in the first place is because her lover—now Mr. Magistrate—got himself assigned to this territory, right?”

“So that’s how it was.”

“Apparently, they’d been old acquaintances since their days in Kaifeng—back when it was still the Eastern Capital.” “If you’d known about that connection earlier, Chief…” “Too late now,” Lei Heng muttered. “But if that’s true, then surely the Magistrate will rein in those theater people and settle this quietly.” “Hard to say,” the guard replied. “Late last night—Bai Xiuying and her father Bai Yuqiao snuck through the magistrate’s back gate to file some complaint or other. And judging by His Honor’s mood this morning… Well, seems her tears worked him into a proper rage.” He stiffened suddenly. “Ah—damn! Old Man Bai’s coming this way!”

Bai Yuqiao, the theater manager, approached the gate with his bandaged arm hung from his neck and a slight limp in his step, but upon suddenly noticing Lei Heng beneath the flagpole,

“Hmph.” “There you are.” “What’ll you do with last night’s bluster now?... Look at your sorry state!”

With that, he spat a glob of phlegm and vanished into the theater. Before long, drums resounded from the turret for some time. This must have been the town crier announcing tonight’s performance. All theater staff emerged to sprinkle water and sweep before the gate. Some deliberately flicked sand at Lei Heng with broom tips or doused him with water. Yet Lei Heng endured it all—lips bitten, head hung low throughout.

Before one knew it, the evening breeze was rustling. The actress Bai Xiuying alighted from her palanquin in front of the theater. When they saw this - as expected of a popular performer entering backstage - neighborhood women and children swarmed around her. But Xiuying paid no attention to such people. Dressed in alluring attire different from her stage costumes and scattering the scent of powder and rouge, she walked steadily beneath the flagpole to glare at Lei Heng's face with evident loathing. Then suddenly, with exaggerated expression, she laughed derisively - "Ho, ho, ho..." -

“Well.” “This is the county’s town constable? What a disgrace!” “You really had the gall to wreck my stage last night.” “What’s this?!” “That glare of yours.” “…You think people fear that face of yours?” “Don’t flatter yourself.” “If you’re some backwater rube who doesn’t know better, let me tell you: performers from Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital, aren’t softhearted fools who’ll cower just because trash like you vandalizes their theater.” “Hmph, pitiful.”

She was indeed a beauty. Indeed, hers was the sharp tongue of a Kaifeng native. That she had been the magistrate's mistress now seemed beyond doubt. Lei Heng had been glaring back at her with such thoughts, but to Xiuying, that gaze must have appeared as hatred's challenge. This was compounded by her celebrity arrogance and the haughtiness of having the magistrate's backing. "What're you glaring at?" "What galls me is how you ruined all last night's gate receipts!" "You think this punishment could ever satisfy me?!" "Exactly! All you patrons here—I'll bet each of you nurses daily grudges against this worthless constable!" "Stones or mud—all of you should pelt this wretch!" "Clap your hands and laugh at him!" "You misbegotten creature!"

With that，she flipped red lips and dashed away.

Then suddenly, an old woman came running out, thrust at her chest forcefully, and shouted vehemently with a tearful voice.

“You harlot!” “You should take a good look at your own stinking hide.” “How dare you call my child a mistake of nature after laying hands on him!” “Oh!” “Well, well. How very brave.” “What backwoods hag spawned you?” “No—what worthless nobody are you?”

“I am Lei Heng’s mother.” “I’m the mother who birthed this mistake of a man.” “But mark me, girl—never have I borne a child as lewd and harlot-scented as you!”

“What did you say? Say that again.” “You think I won’t say it? Slathered in red and white makeup, acting all seductive—peel off that layer of skin, and what’s underneath ain’t no different from a raccoon dog or fox. Your nights on stage are just the front act; your real art is being a vixen peddling her lust!” “Shut up, you damn hag! How dare you call me a harlot in front of everyone? When have I ever sold myself? What evidence do you have?”

“Do you want me to say more? Oh, I’ll tell you plenty more! Before coming here, I went around visiting all sorts of acquaintances to beg for my son’s pardon. But nobody would listen. When I pressed them, they said you and His Honor the Magistrate have been thick as thieves since old times—that it was your parent and those scarlet lips of yours that riled him up!” “My apologies,” she sneered. “There’s no rule among us female entertainers against taking magistrates as lovers. Not your damn concern! For a shriveled cat of a hag, you’re certainly not lacking in jealousy!”

“D-damn you!” “What did you say?” “That’s not why I came here. Give me back my child!” “He’s right here in front of you. There’s your clever beauty’s little exhibit.”

“No! You’ll untie those ropes with your own hands and return him to this mother! It was you and your father who made those false accusations! And if you—the Magistrate’s own mistress—untie him, then His Honor won’t dare get angry either, I tell ya!” “What do I care about your meddling, you nosy crone?” “Don’t think I’ll let you play dumb, I tell ya!”

The old mother bore the bloodied visage of single-minded blind love staked on her son, while the woman wore the defiance of a cornered wasp whose secrets had been exposed and the arrogance of her showmanship. When the old mother, forgetting herself, clung to Bai Xiuying's chest, Bai Xiuying roughly flung away the bony body and—as the mother lunged at her again—seized her white-haired head by the hair,

“Well, persistent one, you dried-up cat. Just drop dead already!”

She dragged the old woman around and around on the ground. But no—this critical situation had taken a sudden, decisive turn. The one who let out a shriek—contrary to all expectations—was none other than Bai Xiuying. Blood burst from her lips and nostrils, her flower-like face now lifeless as she reeled back—grasping at empty air—and spun around to collapse onto her back.

“Ah! D-disaster!”

The jailers, who until now had been watching with expressions that said they couldn’t intervene, came rushing over to Lei Heng’s side in astonishment. “B-Boss! You did it! You’ve killed Bai Xiuying!” “Go on—escape!” they urged. “The handcuffs are off. If you don’t flee, you’ll die!”

The jailers, unanimous in their fervor and heedless of future repercussions, urgently pressed him onward. But Lei Heng did not move. Within his pallid, ghastly visage already lay resolute determination, "No, I can't burden everyone." "I'll go surrender myself at the county office now." "Just... my mother... Whatever may come..." With one last glance toward his mother's figure, he lowered eyes brimming with shame and was led through the howling crowd by his colleagues' hands.

At that moment, the hut’s door was at a lull before lamps were lit and guests admitted. But now, far from that, an unforeseen calamity had sprung up out of nowhere. With the sole star actress having met an unnatural death, there was no way for the theatrical music to play or the curtain to rise. Bai Yuqiao, the theater manager, rushed out barefoot, but upon seeing his daughter’s corpse, he wailed and began babbling incoherently—"Afu, afu…"—as he dashed toward the county office. Every street corner buzzed with this news from dusk till midnight.

The lotus-blooming pond swallowed a child, and even the tutor of the Golden Branch Gate wandered in.

There in Yunzhou County’s town office was Zhu Tong the Beautiful Beard - a long-serving veteran alongside Lei Heng and a man of public esteem.

It was about a week after the incident of the female performer’s murder had somewhat subsided. Accompanying a single prisoner being dispatched to the Saizhou Magistrate Office, Zhu Tong’s men and horses were on their journey. The prisoner was none other than Lei Heng—until yesterday his sworn brother and fellow officer—and even atop his horse, his face bore a resentment unlike his usual countenance. Then along the way he spotted a roadside tavern and treated his escorting subordinates to wine. Moreover he let them pocket their favorite bribes in full measure, and during that interval quietly took the prisoner Lei Heng to a grove of mixed trees at the rear where he removed his manacles and collar.

“Zhu Tong. What’re you gonna do with me?”

“You already know.” “You and I have been friends for ten years.” “How could I ever send you to prison?” “Run!” “Don’t spout nonsense!” “Your predicament afterward would be inevitable.” “Even reduced to bones—could any man do such a thing?” “No, Lei Heng.” “Reconsider this.” “You have an aged mother who needs you!” “……Don’t speak of that.” “That matter—” “This Zhu Tong stands alone in this world.” “Moreover—if you enter that prison, you’ll die.” “But even bearing responsibility for your escape—the magistrate won’t kill me... Because listen—though enraged over his slain mistress—the magistrate has vulnerabilities before society.” “I’ll exploit those weaknesses.” “Now—forget everything else—just bolt straight for Liangshan Marsh!”

“Huh? To Liangshan Marsh?” “Hey, Chao Gai—the village head we two once helped repay a long-standing favor—has recently become leader of that mountain stronghold. I hear Mr. Song Jiang is there too.”

“I’m indebted. Actually, on my way back from a recent journey, I unexpectedly met him. I think I mentioned that matter to you briefly.”

“So there you have it.” “If you go, Liangshan Marsh will shelter you without hesitation.” “Now go!” “I’ll handle what follows.”

“But my mother—” “No—don’t worry. From the moment we left the county town, I made up my mind. I entrusted your mother to reliable hands and sent her ahead to Shandong. If you hurry from here, you’ll catch up with her on the road. Ah, we’ve come a long way, Lei Heng. Stay well.” “Forgive me!...I’ll never forget this favor. Until next time, Zhu Tong.” “Right—do you have the silver?”

“I have it, I have it.” “Well then, until we meet again.”

With tears of camaraderie, Lei Heng dashed through the sparse woods and promptly vanished eastward. Zhu Tong nonchalantly returned to the tavern.

“Oh no, this is bad!” “Lei Heng got away.” “But don’t panic.” “The blame—I alone will take it.” “Drink up.” “Anyway, we’ll be returning empty-handed from here.” With that, he let out a dry chuckle. Now then, the subordinates had tacitly realized Zhu Tong’s intent, but since none bore hatred toward Lei Heng and all were aware of Zhu Tong’s loyalty, they silently followed his instructions and retraced their original route.

However, the one who remained unsatisfied with this report was none other than His Lordship the new magistrate—who was also the woman’s lover. There was no doubt it had been most unpleasant. However, since the case touched upon his own affair, he promptly transferred its handling to the Jizhou Prefecture Office. Yet even the Jizhou Prefecture Office found this troublesome. What was termed criminal evidence remained exceedingly vague—merely a writ citing "neglect of duty." Therefore, they immediately sent him to Cangzhou’s labor camp with a seven-year sentence—a term that, for Cangzhou’s great labor camp, counted among the lightest of punishments.

“Hmm.” “Mei Ran Gong.” “This bearded man was supposedly a well-regarded officer in Yuncheng County, wasn’t he?” “Very well—there’s no need for you to do hard labor.” “I’ll have you do odd jobs at my residence.” The warden of Cangzhou’s labor camp had already muttered this on the day he saw the official writ. And furthermore, upon actually seeing the man in the white sand of the judgment hall, he appeared to become all the more enamored with his stature. “Indeed, your beard is splendid!”

With that, he let out a deep grunt of approval. He had grown thoroughly fond of him. As days passed, the affectionate nickname "Beard-san"—used by everyone from lower-ranking officials to servants at the magistrate's residence when addressing Zhu Tong—spread increasingly alongside their growing regard for his character. On one such occasion, when summoned to a private drinking session where the warden inquired about his background and pressed for details regarding his exile, Zhu Tong ended up divulging everything without restraint—from his friend Lei Heng's circumstances to the entire affair involving the female performer and the new magistrate.

“Hmm…” The warden gave a bitter smile. “That magistrate’s quite something.” “He seems quite the charmer…… But there’s something off about him.” “So you were moved by Lei Heng’s filial piety and deliberately let him escape—is that it?” “No, no.” “That’s not what happened.” “It was entirely a lapse in duty—carelessness on my part.” “That can’t be true.” “It was friendship, wasn’t it?” “Well—no matter. It’s no grave crime anyway. Serve at my residence for seven years.”

“Yes. If it’s like this, I’d gladly serve even a lifetime.” “Ha ha ha ha! Obedient fellow. Drink up.” Just then, a doll-like, adorable boy of about four came scampering in. No sooner had he been mischievously playing around than Zhu Tong’s beard seemed to spark the child’s innocent curiosity. Nimbly, he hopped onto Zhu Tong’s lap and began amusingly playing with his long, black beard.

“Warden. Is this your grandson?” “Don’t talk nonsense,” he snapped. “I’m still young. My youngest son.”

“Oh, my… Ouch.” “Young master, if you pull like that, this uncle will start crying.”

Children watch adults closely. From then on, whenever this child caught sight of the bearded uncle, he would chase after him and refuse to leave. As an unexpectedly good tutor, he also took on the role of attending to the young master. Before they knew it, a month had passed, and they found themselves there on the fifteenth day of the seventh month—the day of the Ullambana Festival. During the Ullambana Festival, even the gates of hell open.

Outside the main gate of the great prison at the Prison God Temple and Jizo Temple, a lively lantern-floating soul ceremony was held on the night of the annual Ullambana Festival. “Now, young master. I shall accompany you.”

Zhu Tong, who had been pestered since noon, shouldered his master’s child at dusk—still too early for the lantern floating—and headed out to Jizo Temple, not far from the warden’s residence.

The crowd was immense indeed. Exhibits of hell and paradise, street performers juggling swords and balls, the chants of plate-spinners, steaming stalls of stewed dishes, smoke from yakitori grills— In the mountains resonated Buddhist temple bells; in the pond reflected the revelry of commoners. Was this truly the Pure Land Paradise, or was it the four births and six paths of hell? No matter what anyone did, the human current remained immovable.

“Beardy! Beardy, I said wait up!” “Alright, alright, young master. Do you need to pee?”

“No, that’s not it. The nursemaid’s gone missing!”

“Huh? The nursemaid… Oh no, I’ve gone and lost her somewhere!” They searched around but found no trace. After circling from Segaki to the large lotus pond at the rear and crossing over the arched stone bridge, the young master truly declared he needed to pee.—Since there were few passersby here, Zhu Tong lifted the child off his shoulders, stood him on the bridge’s railing, and supported him from behind.

“There.” “Go ahead…” “Look, look, look—the red and white lotuses are in full bloom below.” “It’s like Kannon’s pee.” “The pee turns into lapis lazuli and white jade upon the lotus flowers and leaves, immediately achieving Buddhahood, see?” “Hey... young master.” “……Alright, that’s enough.” “You’re done now, right?”

Then someone.

A man who had come behind Zhu Tong,

“Brother—could you spare me a moment in the shade of that forest?”

“Huh…?” Zhu Tong turned around. “Oh! You—” “Shh! “We’ll be spotted here. “Let’s talk over there.” “Understood.” “Now listen, young master. “Uncle’s friend has come on official business, so I must step away briefly. “…Ah-ah, none of that pouting now. “I’ll be quick. “Wait right here and quietly look at the lotus flowers until I return. “Do we have an agreement?”

No sooner had he left those words than he dashed across the marshy pond and sought to avoid prying eyes within the distant forest,

“Lei Heng! Why have you come here?” “Zhu Tong! Thank goodness! At least you’re safe.” “—Truth is, after that incident—thanks to your mercy—I fled to Liangshan Marsh with my mother. Thanks to you, I’ve found some stability now...but what I can’t forget is you.” “Ah, don’t worry about that.” “The prison camp warden looks out for me—I’m managing somehow.” “But upon hearing of your exile—moved by the depth of friendship you showed me—the leaders of Liangshan Marsh insist they must meet you at least once.”

"But I'm a prisoner of the prison camp." "There's nothing I can do about it!" As if his words had been anticipated, a different voice from the shade of the trees answered with refusal.

“Bearded General! A man of your stature has no reason to remain bound by such chains. Could you not entrust this matter... To us.”

Zhu Tong was startled, wondering who it was. The one who emerged before his eyes with a cheerful demeanor was none other than Liangshan Marsh's strategist Wu Xuejiu—that very scholar Wu Yong. Chao Gai and Song Jiang, along with all of Liangshan Marsh's forces, had collectively decided they absolutely wanted to recruit Zhu Tong into their ranks. To that end, they had sent Lei Heng there, and it seemed Wu Yong had taken on the role of persuader. But no matter what persuasive arguments Wu Yong offered, Zhu Tong would not say "yes". He had his own principles. Even if branded a lackey of the authorities and reduced to a prisoner, he possessed an inherent backbone that desired to maintain his integrity as a decent man.

“Well, if you refuse so adamantly, there is nothing more to be done... What a waste—to let a man of your stature rot here for seven years as the prison camp warden’s errand boy. And I thought it plain that even you could not long remain complacent amidst the rot and corruption of officialdom.” Even Wu Yong, known for his resourceful rhetoric, now wore a resigned expression. “Well… Since our conversation has reached its end, why don’t we take a stroll around here together?”

With that, they set off together.

And when they had walked from the edge of the Lotus Pond to the stone bridge ahead, Zhu Tong’s face suddenly paled. Where had he gone? The master’s child was nowhere to be seen. He paced around restlessly. Pitifully flustered, he searched frantically. Wu Yong remarked while observing this as if it were someone else’s affair. “Now, Mr. Zhu Tong.” “Searching would be futile.” “You see, I had another attendant with me. It seems that man took the initiative and has taken him somewhere to play.”

“This is no joke!” Zhu Tong snapped, far from being placated—instead burning with indignation. “The warden’s precious young master—his own flesh and blood! Where have you taken him? You show no regard for others’ plight!” “Now, now, don’t rage so,” Wu Yong soothed. “Let us search together, shall we?”

After that, they searched the vicinity, but there was no trace of him. Not only that—before they knew it, day had turned to dusk, and they found themselves in the distant twilight of Willow Plains, far from the bustling streets of the Ullambana Festival.

“Hey, Lei Heng!” “What is it?” “Don’t play dumb! This makes no sense! Why’d we come searching this way?” “Well, considering that attendant’s such an unhinged fellow, I thought he might’ve taken him back to the inn.”

“To the inn. “Which inn is that house?” “It’s all the way at the edge of town—still ten ri ahead—but it’s a two-story storehouse with hitching posts lined up under the eaves.” “The attendant you mentioned—” “He’s a black brute you can recognize at a glance.” “His name is Li Kui, the Black Whirlwind.” “Gah!” “Isn’t that brute the one who once rampaged through Jiangzhou City, killing people with his twin axes?” “But as for Li Kui—” “Preposterous! “If that brute gets his hands on him, just being held would make the young master cry himself to death in terror.” Ugh—the wet nurse is lost, night’s approaching, and the warden must be worried sick... Right—I can’t keep wandering around like this! “Lei Heng, I’m going ahead!”

Zhu Tong abandoned the two and dashed off toward the inn he had been told about. Then, after traveling several li, he encountered a black figure moving like the wind who held thin-bladed twin axes. Certain it was his target, Zhu Tong suddenly grabbed the man by the collar and snarled at him.

“Hey, Li Kui! Where did you leave the young master?” “Ah! Bearded Zhu Tong!” “Return him at once—the warden’s precious son!” “Ah, that’s a cursed shame.” “Wh-what did you say?” “When he saw this mug of mine, he started bawling and scrambling about—right there on that stone bridge.”

“Of course. Then what happened?” “Since it was Strategist Wu Yong’s order, I figured I’d drag him to the inn no matter what—but while I was chasing him like crazy, he went and fell into that lotus pond.”

“Y-you...! Bastard! So you’re the one who killed him!” “Nonsense! No matter how much of a demon Li Kui is, how could he kill such an adorable child? I thought it was a disaster, but turns out there’s a kappa in that lotus pond that drags people under. After a few bubbles, he vanished without a trace. So I had no choice but to pick up the beaded hair ornament that the kid had dropped and bring it back. Here—take this and let it go!” “You—! Damn brute!” Zhu Tong flared up, grabbed Li Kui’s collar as deeply as he could, and hurled his body with all his might.

With a thud, Li Kui’s body—which seemed to have been thrown a full nine feet away—nimbly sprang up like a frog in the distance, grinning with white teeth. “Heh heh.” “Well, well, look what you’ve done, Beardy….” “Come on—if you’re going to do it, bring it!” “Don’t move, Black brute.”

“Oh? Can’t you see my twin axes?” “Hmph. You don’t know me.”

“Damn!” “I ain’t letting you live!”

But Zhu Tong was a prisoner. He did not carry a single sword on his person. Yet his opponent was a seasoned wielder of twin axes. Li Kui had a clear read.

However，even Li Kui proved too much for him to handle．The axes swung and missed repeatedly；Zhu Tong’s figure was no different than a flash of lightning．After all，he was Yunzhou’s foremost chief arrest officer—a master of chaotic captures．Rather，he appeared skilled in unarmed combat．

“This guy’s trouble.”

Li Kui fled. No sooner had he begun to flee than this man showed not a shred of decency. He tumbled down slope after slope. Then, a lush pine forest stretched on for ten *ri*. The pine wind washed over their ears.

"Hmm, where did he vanish to?"

Zhu Tong pursued relentlessly. After all, he was in no position to return empty-handed to the magistrate’s residence. Before long, dawn began to break, and birds chirped ceaselessly, but his heart paid no heed, and his ears heard nothing. And his bloodshot eyes suddenly caught sight of a shadow like a fleeing deer. It was Li Kui. However, he emerged onto a village path and dashed into the gates of a magnificent local tyrant’s estate in the distance. Although he found it suspicious, Zhu Tong also blindly followed into the opulent gate’s interior—

“Bastard—wait!” With that, he chased in after him. Then, in the distance of the garden adorned with exquisite springs and stones, a figure resembling a crane stood sleekly and turned this way. Their hair was tied with a purple-corded golden phoenix headdress, they wore a long-hemmed plain silk robe, and there was an air of a noble scholar about them.

“Who art thou? What is thy business?” That cool yet piercing gaze did not seem to belong to an ordinary person. “Ah. In my haste, I failed to discern whose mansion this is and trespassed without permission—a grave transgression. I humbly beg your forgiveness.”

Bending his knee, Zhu Tong apologized. If I were to regain my composure, this situation would be shameful.

The noble scholar laughed heartily. “Bearded Duke. My, you must have been thoroughly teased by that Blackie.” “Huh? You knew me?” “Well, you see, I had received a letter from Shandong’s Timely Rain Song Jiang.” “And now, when you said ‘Blackie’…” “It’s Li Kui... In truth, by prior arrangement through a secret letter from Song Jiang, I have been hosting three individuals within this residence: Wu Yong, Lei Heng, and Black Whirlwind.”

“Ah! So this is where they’ve been staying.” “Indeed. You must have many unresolved doubts, but all of this stems solely from the desire of the Liangshan Marsh comrades to have you join their ranks.” “However, as for the means to secure his inevitable consent—entrusting that magistrate’s Wako to Li Kui’s hands and ultimately causing her death—that was, by all means, somewhat of Strategist Wu Yong’s error.” “Even a Strategist can have too much wisdom, it seems…”

Then, deliberately lifting his long sleeve, he beckoned to the people in the inner pavilion.

With a hearty “Aye!”, the three who came walking over from there were unmistakably Wu Yong and Lei Heng whom he had seen the day before, and lumbering at the very rear was Black Whirlwind Li Kui.

Wu Yong and Lei Heng apologized in turn for their deception while fervently repeating Liangshan Marsh’s shared aspirations once more. Alongside them, the esteemed scholar at his side also pressed the matter, until finally Zhu Tong could no longer maintain his aloofness against their burning zeal. “I understand,” he said. “There remains no alternative—I shall resolve to join Liangshan Marsh. Yet... there is one condition. I ask that you grant it.” “Ah! You accept!” Wu Yong replied. “We are deeply grateful. What might this condition be? If it lies within this humble one’s authority to decide, I shall see it done without fail.”

“It’s nothing more than this. In the presence of the three of you, allow me to duel Li Kui there.”

“Hoh. “And what grudge compels this?”

“Not just out of personal grudge—even were it the prison camp warden—I cannot leave while trampling on the kindness of one who sheltered this exiled prisoner, however briefly.” “Truly, I bear deep remorse for Wako’s death.” “At minimum, I mean to take Li Kui’s head—the perpetrator’s—and lay it at their gates as apology’s token. Only then shall I withdraw to Liangshan Marsh.”

No sooner had he heard this than Li Kui leapt back, snapping into a swift defensive stance,

“Wha—what’s this, Beard? Even after I explained everything so thoroughly, you still suspect me of killing the kid? Go ahead and do whatever you want! If you want to resent me, go ahead! I’ll give you a fight!” “Hey! Stop this, Li Kui!” “But, Strategist...” “Wait! The one who ordered you was this Wu Yong. Entrusting a child to someone as ignorant and barbaric as Li Kui was—without question—Strategist Wu Yong’s blunder.” “That’s harsh, Strategist. Am I really some ignorant, barbaric brute?”

Then, centered on Zhu Tong's expression through their mutual scrutiny, the master of the mansion—who had been locking eyes with him intently—

“Ah, Strategist Wu Yong.” “We cannot disregard the self-reproach Zhu Tong has expressed.” “That sentiment itself deserves respect.” “Therefore, how should we proceed under these circumstances?” “Do you have some suitable proposal?” “Hmm.” “Let us temporarily keep Li Kui in custody at this residence.” “Then you two could escort Zhu Tong alone back to Liangshan Marsh first. How about announcing to Song Jiang and the rest of the assembly that you’ve successfully welcomed Zhu Tong?”

Faced with such mediation, even Zhu Tong could no longer claim dissatisfaction.

So with that settled, the five hosts and guests soon gathered around a table within a pavilion,

“Before long next time, you’ll have no choice but to come retrieve that black cat we’ve taken into custody.”

They all laughed heartily together. But Li Kui sulked. Ignorant this, barbaric that, black cat that—he had been made a miserable plaything. Resentful, Li Kui glared at Zhu Tong, but Zhu Tong—the thousand-zhang flame in his chest still unquelled—glared back fiercely. A battle of inner flames. Wine was poured into it. It was nothing short of perilous.

“Hmm.”

Having noticed this, the master of the mansion ordered a maid to fetch a zither. The master possessed skill in playing the seven-stringed zither and excelled at melodic recitation. Soft chanting and elegant refinement—these naturally pacified even the most unruly men.

“Ha ha ha ha! That was rather unworthy of your ears.” When the piece concluded, they returned to their wine.

Zhu Tong decided to voice aloud the questions he had been pondering alone. What lineage could possibly explain this magnificent mansion—so incongruously grand for this remote region? And who exactly are you? When he learned the full story, Zhu Tong was newly astonished. This estate traced its roots to the late Five Dynasties period, when it relocated to the provinces during Emperor Taizu of Song's reign. Its founding ancestor Chai Shizu had been a child emperor who once held the throne. At that time, a great war with the Khitan erupted. As a juvenile ruler could not manage state affairs or military strategy, a Zhou dynasty general from the Zhao clan was acclaimed by the entire army to ascend the throne in his stead—this being Emperor Taizu of Song, with the historical event becoming known as the Chenqiao Abdication.

By the way, the imperial court had bestowed the Iron Certificate upon the ancestors of the Chai clan who abdicated the throne. Even after retiring to rural areas, this served as proof of their generations-long imperial lineage, through which they continued to command considerable respect and maintain special privileges.—Yet as society descended into turbulent disorder, the court officials of late Song had likely long forgotten such ancient affairs.—And now, in a remote corner of Cangzhou, they preserved faint remnants of their house of golden branches and jade leaves through the beauty of ancient gardens and mansions, sustained by local reverence and the master’s virtue—still harboring many guests at their gates and maintaining retainers—and as for who their present-day head was,

Chai Jin—nicknamed “Little Whirlwind”—was that very man.

Having heard this much, one should naturally come to realize. Now in Liangshan Marsh, Lin Chong—the Leopard-Head who commanded his own banner—had once been sent to the great labor camp in Cangzhou. There he received Chai Jin’s generous care and, aided by Chai Jin’s intervention, escaped the prison camp to eventually become a man of Liangshan. Moreover, within the marsh’s ranks, those who had received Chai Jin’s protection or shared acquaintance with him were beyond counting. “Ah,” Zhu Tong reflected inwardly, “I hadn’t realized he was a man of such standing.”

Zhu Tong was utterly overwhelmed with emotion and found himself regarding the man with renewed respect. Now that even a figure of such standing had been covertly backing Liangshan Marsh—that den of men—he felt compelled to reassess it entirely.

The following day.—Wu Yong, Lei Heng, and Zhu Tong set out from here for Liangshan Marsh.

At the time of their brief parting, Wu Yong said.

“Li Kui. For now, you alone will be under the care of this esteemed household. But mind you—keep that inherent brutality of yours restrained. …Understood?”

“Yeah. If I just gotta keep biting back this ‘ignorant barbarian’ crap, right?”

“There, exactly as said—you’re a good-for-nothing.” “So another good-for-nothing’s sprouted up now?” “You fool. What a nuisance you are. But whatever one may say, a wretch like you is but a fringe of our fellowship. Once Zhu Tong’s anger cools and Chief Chao and Strategist Song Jiang give their approval, we’ll come fetch you. Just sweep the garden quietly every day or something.” “Demoted, huh? Me too.”

Li Kui struck his black forehead.

That day, the Chai family’s retainers saw off the three departing guests in great numbers all the way beyond the pass. Even the border guards and prison officials harbored no suspicion upon hearing they were members of Chai Jin’s household. Moreover, for two or three days now, there had been no ordinary commotion both outside the city and within its walls. The prison warden’s beloved child had drowned in Jizo Temple’s pond on the night of the Ullambana Festival. And since Zhu Tong—the attendant—had vanished that very night, inquiries and house-to-house searches swept through the town.

However, such investigative efforts would never reach the Chai family’s premises. It was a gate that might as well have held extraterritorial rights. And so, before anyone realized, forty or fifty days had passed.

It was a certain day.—Messengers and couriers from who-knows-where—to the quiet gate here in autumn, a letter was delivered.

“Great Master.” “A letter has just arrived from Gaotang Prefecture.”

Hurriedly, the maid brought it straight to Chai Jin’s room.

“Oh, it’s marked ‘urgent.’”

Chai Jin broke the seal. As he read on, his hand seemed to tremble slightly. It seemed something of considerable gravity had occurred. "Master Chai... Ah, Great Master—"

“Ah, Li Kui—you were there?” “Under your orders, I was cleaning the window frames from outside—but has some major trouble arisen?”

“Hmm... It’s rather...” “…But explaining it to you would be futile.” “So you’re sayin’ Li Kui ain’t worth talkin’ to?” “Silence… Can’t you see I’m pondering matters? Ah—it seems I must personally make for Gaotang Prefecture.” Li Kui caught this murmur. He stepped down from the windowsill stool, circled through the garden to the corridor, and quietly poked his head into Chai Jin’s chamber.

The crafty beast peered into a person’s famed garden. The mountain army departed from the marsh, aiming to mete out punishment. Of course, it was an exaggeration—*Three thousand retainers are always housed in the family*—such was the renowned Chai family of the wilds. Hangers-on were not uncommon in daily life, but a hanger-on such as Li Kui was indeed a rarity. It was as if they had a black-faced ape in the house. Without waiting for permission, he barged into his master Chai Jin’s room, completely indifferent to whatever worries this sudden journey—now suddenly arisen upon Chai Jin—might entail.

“Well, much obliged!” “I can come along!” After first congratulating himself modestly, he said.

“Hey, Master. If you’re headin’ to Gaotang Prefecture, then I—no, I gotta start gettin’ ready right away! You leavin’ today? Or tomorrow mornin’?”

“What? Who said I’d take you? This isn’t some sightseeing trip.” “But I don’t wanna leave your side, Master. And it’s already been fifty days since I was entrusted to your household. Since then, I haven’t set a single foot outside the gate. Please, by all means, take me along.” “Tch, you don’t even know someone else’s worries.”

Chai Jin clicked his tongue. He wore a troubled look that said this was no time for such things. And so, that very day, he embarked on his journey. Three baggage carriers and seven mounted retainers. Mixed in with them, Li Kui, the Black Whirlwind, finally followed along as an attendant. The journey continued for over half a month. Before long, they arrived at Gaotang Prefecture. In the northern suburbs of that city’s streets stood a large mansion surrounded by a grove. It was the house of Chai Huangcheng—both a garden famous in the region and a family of renown.

But no sooner had they dismounted there than Chai Jin—

“Ah—I wasn’t in time.” “Uncle—have you already left this world?” Then—dazed and overwhelmed by the futility of hope—he dissolved into tears.

The gate had been closed in mourning. In other words, Chai Jin’s journey had been hastened by news of his uncle Huangcheng’s critical condition—but given how swiftly this had come to pass, and considering his uncle, who had always been so robust, it must have been utterly unexpected. But later, it became clear that Huangcheng’s death was indeed no ordinary matter. That night, Huangcheng’s wife and family, who had been anxiously awaiting him, tearfully recounted the following circumstances to Chai Jin. Lately, a magistrate who also served as the military commander of this region had arrived from the capital.

A man named Gao Lian—cousin of Gao Qiu, the influential minister of the Song court. Not only did he despise the locals and wield his authority imperiously, but his brother-in-law Yin Zhige—a pretentious aristocrat-bureaucrat still green behind the ears—swaggered about daily with his large entourage. Then one day, this man suddenly visited there, demanding: “Show me your garden.” “—This is splendid,” he said. “The garden’s passable enough, but these water pavilions and corridors—the four-gate layout! Even an elegant sukiya tea house! How does such refinement exist in this backwater?” “I’ll speak to my sworn brother at once and recommend this as his country villa,” he declared, as though it were his own property, before departing.

But surely not.

While he was still thinking this, it wasn’t long before Yin Zhige sent word demanding they vacate the premises within ten days. Of course, Huangcheng, the head of the household, dismissed it with a laugh. “They are outsiders—it’s no wonder they don’t know our family’s history.”

However, "Why won’t you vacate?" came their repeated demands. In the end, Zhige himself came storming in, and Huangcheng personally recounted the origins of the Chai family to him: "Though we have lived in this region for generations, our ancestors were of imperial lineage, and our house still holds the Iron Certificate bestowed by Emperor Taizu of Song." "Are you unaware?" He mocked that foolishness.

Then Zhige grew even more ferocious and demanded, "Then show it to me!" When told it wasn’t there, he suddenly kicked Huangcheng and barked, “We are the incomparable family of His Excellency Gao Qiu in the current court! How dare you lump us in with country bumpkins who’d be awed by some fake genealogy!” Then he and his entourage on either side continued their assault—kicking, beating, and heaping every manner of humiliation upon him—before finally leaving.

Huangcheng’s death had been caused by this incident. That very night he collapsed into bed, and throughout his raging fever kept muttering, “How infuriating! What a waste! This is unbearable!” until with his final breath he reportedly passed away while repeating: “Tell my nephew Chai Jin... Avenge this grudge for me!”

Chai Jin listened to every word, his guts wrenched. But this was no time to lose composure. “Ah… Truly, we are both beyond words in our grief,” he said, turning to the widow and extended family.

“In that case, I shall retrieve the hereditary Iron Certificate from my home in Cangzhou and, on another day, go up to the capital to personally appeal to the Son of Heaven of the Song dynasty.” “…In the imperial archives of successive courts, there must certainly be preserved a transcript of our ancestor Chai Shizu’s abdication of the throne to Emperor Taizu of Song—the ‘Chenqiao Abdication’—so with clear evidence at hand, Yin Zhige’s violence will be punished, and His Majesty will surely mourn Uncle Huangcheng’s spirit.”

he consoled them. Then, at the edge of the altar hall, Li Kui—who had been listening to this—burst out laughing, heedless of the solemn setting. “All that time and effort’s a waste, I tell ya! If them authorities actually listened to proper appeals and kept order like they should, there’d be no reason for rebellions to break out across the land!” The relatives pulled strange faces and all turned toward Li Kui. Chai Jin also had no choice but to rebuke him in front of those people, given the circumstances. “Li Kui!” “Don’t spout nonsense.” “You’re the one who should withdraw to the attendants’ room and behave meekly like the other attendants!” “You utterly hopeless black-faced ape!”

That day was a day of all days.

At the Chai household, as it coincided with the Seventh-Day Memorial for the late Huangcheng, after the rituals had concluded, they moved on to the memorial banquet as was customary.

―And then, right at that moment, a clamoring crowd of “uninvited guests” came surging to the gate.

“We know the master of the house has died of illness,” “But surely some mouth-flapping wretch remains here.” “Come out and greet us properly!” One of them was shouting these words from inside the gate. Looking, there were retainers, hangers-on, and ruffians—over thirty in total—likely returning from an excursion outside the city walls. Brandishing half-sized bows, blowpipes, flutes and drums, kickballs, and wine gourds, atop an extravagantly decorated ceremonial horse sat Yin Zhige—the aforementioned brother-in-law of the magistrate holding dual military authority—grinning with smug satisfaction.

“Well, well.”

Before long, Chai Jin emerged from within the house to greet them with a courteous bow, maintaining utmost deference throughout. "I am not privy to your purpose here, but today finds our household regrettably occupied with pressing affairs. We cannot extend hospitality at this time. Might we instead request your visit on another occasion?"

“Hey! You there!” “Who do you think you are?” “Some hired hand? A household servant?” “No, I am Chai Jin—a member of the family.” “The one from Cangzhou—” “Yes?” “Ah, if it’s that Chai Jin, this matter simplifies itself.” “We’ve reluctantly waited through Huangcheng’s death, funeral, and even this seventh-day memorial.” “Vacate this place by tomorrow. Understood?” “You jest.” “What?!” “Absurd! This estate cannot be surrendered.” “If you insist on this farce, then seek His Majesty’s decree first.”

“Don’t talk big, don’t talk big!” “This is no empty boast.” “The times may have waned, but the Chai family descends from the Son of Heaven.” “Moreover, we hold proof—the Iron Certificate passed down through generations.” “Show it to me!”

“I have now sent someone to Cangzhou to retrieve it. If you wield the magistrate’s authority to press your excessive cruelty, I have my own considerations.” “Ahahahaha!” Yin Zhige threw his head back with a raucous laugh atop his horse. “This one’s spouting the same nonsense as that dead Huangcheng! Sheer fabrication! I thought I’d grant you until tomorrow, but mercy is no longer warranted. Now! Drive out those Dharma Feast bastards and seal up this mansion!”

They must have planned this in advance. The retainers, underling ruffians, and the whole mob roared and surged into the mansion—still wearing their shoes—in one chaotic rush. It happened so abruptly that even Chai Jin had no time to block them.—But then— The men who’d barged in came tumbling back out through the creaking house—thudding footsteps shaking the beams. Every last one was drenched crimson; not a single soul still had all their limbs intact. And chasing them out—leaping forth while brandishing twin axes—came a black-faced demon. Ah—even Yin Zhige reeled in shock and yanked his horse’s head around.

But then—a bark— “You!”

Li Kui’s single axe swing sliced through the horse’s legs. Without a moment’s delay, the next strike came crashing down onto Yin Zhige’s tumbling body. Blood sprayed out—there was no chance he could withstand even an instant of it. The remaining underlings had already scattered like baby spiders.

Chai Jin was utterly dazed by the events of this moment, but soon—

“Li Kui!” “You’ve done something utterly outrageous.” “Ah, there’s no undoing this now.”

“My lord. Was that not allowed?” “That goes without saying. Under what possible circumstances could there be a law permitting the killing of people? But now, no matter what I say, it’s no use. You—get yourself to Liangshan Marsh immediately!” “Why? Now that it’s come to this, I ain’t got no mind to run away.” “Whatever you do, don’t stay here. The rest, Chai Jin would handle. If, by any chance, you are captured, disaster will spread to the entire Liangshan Marsh. If this Chai Jin must present himself where required, he possesses a dignified and rightful defense. Go quickly. Take the travel funds.”

With that, he forced the travel funds into his hands and recklessly drove him from the scene. Then he himself resignedly surrendered to the swarm of constables that came attacking immediately after, proceeding to sit in the magistrate's court of his own accord. However, his superior Magistrate Gao Lian was the husband of Zhige's elder sister. Yet even had this Gao Lian been an impartial official—which he was far from being—who could have known he would prove a sorcerer without equal in his age? The particulars of this would be told in later chapters, but in any case, Little Whirlwind Chai Jin's decision to trust in the governance of those times and handle matters through proper channels not only brought great calamity upon himself alone, but stirred an unforeseen storm of upheaval throughout the region.

There, the perspective shifts. Turning our eyes to Liangshan Marsh in Shandong.

In the Assembly Hall of Liangshan Marsh at this moment, Black Whirlwind Li Kui, who had returned from Gaotangzhou to the mountain stronghold, stood before the gathered assembly with a cowed posture, blinking his eyes.

“Good grief—you’re unbelievable! Once again—with those twin axes of yours—have you caused another thoughtless incident?!”

Upon hearing his report, Chao Gai and the other leaders outright scolded him like this. “Now, you may have escaped calamity, but what will become of Lord Chai Jin afterward?” “This won’t end without repercussions.” “Sorry ’bout that, but you can handle the rest yourself.” “Well, anyway, you told me to flee this place—had no choice but to comply.” “Hah! Now we’ve got real trouble brewing.” Wu Yong, Song Jiang, Lin Chong, and the others all furrowed their brows. These men had all personally tasted the decay and corruption of righteous governance. Chai Jin’s claims would surely not be accepted. Without confirming their benefactor Chai Jin’s safety as soon as possible—they promptly—

“We appreciate your efforts—would you go to Gaotangzhou and investigate the details thoroughly for us?”

Then, a call came from the entire assembly to Divine Traveller Dai Zong. And so, Dai Zong— “Consider it done.” That very day, he flew to Gaotangzhou using his signature Divine Travel Technique and returned to the marsh stronghold after approximately half a month.

“Just as I thought—exactly! ……” The complexions of the full assembly fell deathly silent for a moment as they intently listened to Dai Zong’s report, grieving their benefactor’s suffering before blazing with smoldering righteous indignation.

Indeed, Chai Jin was now imprisoned, and the late Huangcheng’s mansion and its famed garden had entirely changed their gate’s appearance; under the name of “official confiscation,” they were said to have become Magistrate Gao Lian’s private villa. Not only that, but Gao Lian’s wife was what one might call a beautiful yaksha with the exterior of a bodhisattva. Thereupon, she would shift her younger brother’s grudge onto her husband, leading to courtroom torture and torment in prison, until finally imposing the false charge of “killing Zhige” upon Chai Jin and inevitably driving him to his death. In any case, Chai Jin’s life now hung by a thread—and Dai Zong’s meticulous account of this ultimately compelled those who heard it to...

“Hmph.”

they could not help but fix their furious gazes upon the skies of Gaotangzhou. “For us of Liangshan Marsh, Lord Chai Jin is a great benefactor.” “We cannot stand idly by and watch his suffering or allow the Chai family to be annihilated.” “Moreover, the origin of this matter lies with Li Kui, one of our own from Liangshan Marsh.” Unplanned, their voices united as one. Under the strategist Wu Yong’s plan, the seven thousand marsh soldiers were organized with twenty-two leaders as generals, and there, the army to rescue Chai Jin was mustered.

The seven thousand marsh soldiers constituted the majority of the stronghold members. The reason for mobilizing such a mountain army was that their opponent, Gao Lian, was no ordinary magistrate. Not only was he a commander who held military authority, but under his command there was also an elite unit known as the “Flying Divine Soldiers,” selected from the military districts of Shandong, Hebei, Jiangxi, Hunan, Lianghuai, Liangzhe, and every other province—this too had been discovered through Dai Zong’s reconnaissance. At the strangeness manifested by the official-robed sorcerer,

The soldiers of three battle formations met the cruel fate of being torn asunder. Gao Lian could only be described as a truly mysterious figure.

When speaking of the Gao Qiu clan—then flourishing in the Song court—they resembled Japan’s Heike clan of that era: a great noble house whose splendor and authority were theirs to command. Therefore, as Gao Qiu’s cousin, he could have freely ridden a white horse with golden trappings to chase the capital’s evening winds or stood in the imperial court to covet ministerial rank—yet for some reason, he sought none of it. And from his youth, he had taken the name of a reckless nobleman, carried on his back a longsword called the "Tai’a Sword," and favored an attire of black robes and a black hat.

“In my eyes, the honors of court ministers hold no envy, and even eight million imperial banners amount to nothing.” He was an eccentric who constantly boasted without restraint. Presumably, even his own clan in Kaifeng’s Eastern Capital had found him unmanageable, appointing him military commander and civil magistrate before relegating him to this provincial post in Gaotangzhou.

“What? Are you saying seven thousand bandit soldiers from Liangshan Marsh are approaching this land, proclaiming righteousness for Chai Jin?” “No—” “How amusing!”

Gao Lian opened his vermilion lips and laughed. He wore a black gauze hat and a black silk robe—only a flash of white hakama trousers visible at his hem—with teeth dyed black by iron gall ink. “I had long intended to march out myself and crush that den of field mice they call Liangshan Marsh—the ones who’ve become a terror to the realm! But for them to raise banners and come forth now? No—this arrangement suits me perfectly!” “We deploy outside the city at once!” “All troops—move out now!”

With a grand command, he issued the order. The central army banner—yellow cloth emblazoned with black Eight Trigrams—was promptly advanced ahead of his horse. As for his attire: he carried the usual Tai’a Sword high on his back, wore his customary black robes fastened with a golden belt, and beneath a leopard-skin breastplate peeked chainmail—a figure impossible to discern as general, noble, or military Daoist monk. However, the military forces under his command—how many ranks, how many dozens of units—were beyond counting. And under each general resplendent in golden armor and iron spears, they lined up their shields—*You rabble of bandits*—and waited with crossbows at the ready.

In the midst of this,

“Generals of Liangshan Marsh—Lin Chong, Hua Rong, Qin Ming, Li Jun, Sun Li, Deng Fei, Ma Lin, and others… over three thousand strong—are advancing toward us in a shadowy mass.” A scout delivered this report. Then came another urgent update: “The main force under Song Gongming’s command—including Zhu Tong, Lei Heng, Dai Zong, and Li Kui—has arrived. Furthermore, units led by Zhang Heng, Zhang Shun, Yang Xiong, and Shi Xiu are rapidly deploying formations directly before our front lines.” The flurry of reports heightened the tension until the winds across the wilderness eerily stilled and wild geese vanished between cloud banks. Suddenly splitting through this ominous calm came a tempest of war drums, gongs, and horns as Lin Chong emerged from the Liang ranks—his eight-foot serpent spear held level—flanked by Generals Qin Ming and Hua Rong who pressed forward on either side.

“Gao Lian! Gao Lian!” “Where is the corrupt magistrate Gao Lian of the Gao Qiu clan?” “We are the heavenly army sent by Heaven to punish the corrupt officials of this age!” “Don’t waste our time—hand over your bare head!”

they shouted at the top of their lungs.

No sooner had he heard this than Gao Lian pushed his elite Flying Divine Soldiers into the center and positioned his horse among them. “Impudent grass bandits!” “Don’t you dare flee in a panic!” First sending out one rider from the Flying Divine Soldiers—Yu Zhi—he had him confront Lin Chong. But Yu Zhi was no match for Lin Chong. Before they could even exchange ten bouts with spears and lances, Yu Zhi somersaulted and fell from his horse. Next, Wen Wenbao—the foremost among the Flying Divine Soldiers—shouted and charged out. However, he too was slain after clashing with Qin Ming. When Gao Lian saw that even the third and fourth men—those who recklessly rushed forth—were being utterly annihilated one after another, his face, like blue clay, instantly took on a ferocious aura akin to splattered ink.

“Gah!”

Then he drew the Tai’a Sword from his back. Placing the spine of the blade against his forehead, he appeared to recite an incantation with singular focus. When Hua Rong saw this, he shuddered involuntarily—"A sorcerer...?"—as the string of his unconsciously drawn bow snapped with a twang. The arrow struck true, hitting Gao Lian square in the brow. Yet at the moment of impact, a streak of black qi engulfed both arrow and shadow like spilled ink. Suddenly the earth roared and heavens trembled; after a monstrous wind howled past, hailstones like gravel came pelting down upon men and steeds.

“Huh? Wha—?” “What is this?” Then the seven thousand Liang troops and their banners were scattered by the black wind, tossed about like winter leaves. In moments, it became utter bedlam. Only the blazing sun remained visible as the wind hurled sand and gravel amidst the hail. To make matters worse, hundreds of Flying Divine Soldiers—resembling long-haired ghosts—raced through the chaos with spears in hand, and in the blink of an eye, the panicked Liangshan Marsh forces lost a thousand men.

“Fall back!” “Fall back for now!” Even the renowned strategist Wu Yong—and Song Jiang too—had been utterly thrown into disarray by this turn of events, knowing no recourse but to flee in headlong retreat. Now, they barely managed to regroup their remaining six thousand troops into formation fifty *li* outside the city walls. “Strategist,” “That was... truly overwhelming.” “What in heaven’s name was that?” “Today’s calamity—”

To Song Jiang’s look of surprise, Wu Yong replied in a somber voice. “It seems Gao Lian is a sorcerer who employs dark magic—he must undoubtedly be a practitioner who has thoroughly mastered Daoist arts, that is to say, illusionary techniques.” That night, Song Jiang lit a lamp in his tent and opened the aforementioned Heavenly Books in Three Volumes that had been bestowed by Heaven. Inside, there was one volume titled *“Anti-Evil Military Tactics.”* Within it were the “Art of Breaking Sorcery and Formations,” and he also saw the “Method of Returning Wind and Reversing Fire.”

“Alright.”

He had confidence, and the next day, he once again beat the war drums and pressed toward the city gates.

But on this day and the next, the Liangshan Marsh army was utterly defeated. This was because Gao Lian’s sorcery not only summoned anomalies in the hues of the heavens and weather phenomena across the cosmos but also abruptly ignited flames upon the earth, unleashed great floods, and—in the next moment—with a single crack of his whip, called forth packs of fierce beasts like jackals, *pixiu*, tigers, and leopards, driving them into enemy ranks. A thousand transformations, truly boundless—even the application of the “Heavenly Books,” which Song Jiang carried as his talisman, proved nearly useless against this.

What if they tried this approach? What if they attacked like this?

Thus, after ten days of battle, their forces had been reduced to half. Song Jiang and Wu Yong were now so ashamed that they could not return to Liangshan Marsh as they were. Yet if they were to stubbornly continue this grueling battle, even their remaining three thousand would end up as bleached bones scattered across the plains. Moreover, there loomed the grave risk of government reinforcements rushing down from the capital at Kaifeng.

"...What are we to do?" Song Jiang and Wu Yong found themselves finally cornered at their last resort. "Well... Mr. Song," Wu Yong began hesitantly. "There does remain one final strategy we might attempt."

“What? Are you saying the Strategist has a plan?” “Then why didn’t you propose this scheme sooner—” “No—” Wu Yong frantically waved his hands— “If we’d thought it immediately feasible, we’d never have delayed.” “Is it some complex stratagem?” “No—we must urgently locate and retrieve someone whose whereabouts are unknown.” “Yet regarding his current location—we have no leads whatsoever.” “Ah.” “So you too had recalled him—Gongsun Sheng, also called Daoist Yiqing?”

“Indeed. You are absolutely correct. To break Gao Lian’s sorcery, we must recruit a Daoist versed in such dark arts to our side.” “In that case, how about we dispatch someone to Jizhou and have them search far and wide?”

“But Jizhou is vast.” “No matter—Dai Zong is in camp.” “This concerns Daoist Yiqing after all.” “He might be deep within famous mountains and great rivers, but with Dai Zong’s Divine Travel Technique to scour them—” “True—better than remaining idle.”

“There is no better course than this.” “Let’s send someone to summon Dai Zong immediately.” When they sent a messenger, Dai Zong—wondering what the matter could be—came straight to the command tent. Upon hearing the detailed orders from commanders Wu Yong and Song Jiang—a task of a lifetime bearing the fate of Liangshan Marsh’s three thousand troops—he eagerly fastened the talismanic leg bindings of the Divine Travel Technique and set out at once. Yet another accompanied him—none other than Black Whirlwind Li Kui. Though dismissed as a useless partner who’d cause more harm than good, this mission traced its origins to his own killing of Yin Zhige. Partly as atonement to Lord Chai and partly due to Li Kui’s uncharacteristically solemn pleas, they ultimately brought him along.

"But Li Kui," warned Dai Zong. "I'll give you fair warning." "Huh? What's this about?" "I'll impart the Divine Travel Technique to you too. But when I recite the incantation, your body will instantly tread upon clouds and fly. If you don't break the spell yourself, you won't be able to stop even if you try—remember that."

“Director Dai, that’s a problem.” “Ain’t even time to take a leak!” “Such things don’t matter.” “The problem is that during the journey, you must observe complete purification and abstinence.” “If you don’t observe them, the divine power of the Divine Travel will be broken.” “Can you keep them?” “So as long as I don’t drink wine or eat meat, that’s all I gotta do, right?” “That’s right.” “Be sure to restrain your greed.”

Thus, the two of them soared through the clouds. Wind roared in their ears as mist struck their eyelashes painfully before streaming past behind. All earthly things—towns, forests, plains, mountain ranges, streams—even the shadows of sheep and cattle in scattered hamlets blurred past them as they raced onward.

And so, the tale took a truly bizarre turn.

From its very inception, the Water Margin tale—beginning with the matter of the 108 Stars—incorporated so-called supernatural phenomena as plausible occurrences central to its narrative framework. Yet within this, it also drew somewhat on historical facts from the Song Dynasty, and there were rather realistic aspects to the actions of its characters. No sooner did one process this than the narrative casually deployed Gao Lian's sorcery and Dai Zong's Divine Travel Technique—in other words, this very quality constituted what might be called the quintessential plot structure of mainland classical novels, something that in Japanese tales would only be found in legends of En no Gyōja unless explicitly borrowed. This seemed primarily a Daoist fantasy—the very conception seen in Bai Juyi’s epic poem “Song of Everlasting Sorrow,” where Emperor Xuanzong had commanded the sorcerer Fangshi to seek his deceased consort Yang Guifei’s dwelling through dreams—which could well be described as a poetic rendering of folk Daoist beliefs. In any case, for these chapters, we ask that readers also keep in mind the medieval mainland’s folk traditions and, as if reciting aloud, indulge in shared flights of fancy.

“Director Dai. “Today’s already the seventh day, y’know.”

“Already seven days?” “Hmm. Hard to say.”

“No matter how much we ride the clouds and mist darting through the sky like this, there’s no way we’ll find anything,” said Li Kui. “Day after day, all we see below are mountains and great rivers and endless stretches of countryside. Damn it, I gotta get out to some inhabited village!” “What you say holds some truth,” replied Dai Zong. “But Gongsun Sheng was born in Jizhou originally. Though he joined Liangshan Marsh, his longing for his mother in the countryside made him part from his comrades at the stronghold and return to his hometown for a time. Moreover, a cultivator of his standing would never dwell in urban areas.”

“But Director Dai, when it comes to Jizhou’s countryside, it’s mountains piled on mountains.” “Tryin’ to catch one man hidin’ in those mountain folds—hell, that’s harder’n findin’ lice in your shirt seams!” “Gotta walk where folks gather if you wanna find someone—that’s how it’s done!”

“You’re getting the urge to eat something tasty, I suppose.” “Don’tcha go assumin’ that either.” “No matter how much purification and abstinence, for these past seven days, I’ve only eaten dried rice balls.” “Since yesterday, I’ve been so light-headed I could pass out.”

“Alright, let’s change direction and try searching through the crowds.”

The next day, they removed the talismans from their legs and spent the entire day walking within Jizhou’s city walls. The following day too, they walked about inquiring at temples, prayer halls, and any passing monks—anywhere that seemed even remotely connected. Yet there were no clues whatsoever.

And then came the eleventh day. As they were slurping white noodles for lunch at a dingy eatery outside the city walls, an old man at the neighboring bench kept urgently requesting refills. With the shop crowded at that hour, the additional noodles were slow to arrive. Each time a bowl finally came out, Li Kui beside him would swiftly snatch it from the side and devour it. When this had happened eight times over, even the old man finally lost his temper.

“What in the world... You there! Every time I get my order, you keep snatching it up and devouring it! Are you a horse or a pig-bellied glutton?!” “What?! You calling me a pig-bellied glutton?! Hey! What do you mean by ‘enough already’?! Get outside, you old fossil!”

“You there, Li Kui! You're the one at fault, bastard.”

“But Director Dai— “There’s such a thing as proper phrasing too, y’know! Even so!” “No. “The problem is you’re being too damn greedy.” “Please forgive us, sir.”

“Well now, if you put it that way—such a trifling matter for one of my years... In truth, I was planning to climb the mountain and attend Master Luo Zhenren’s sermon.” “Oh... So there’s a sermon gathering on the mountain?” “Yes. If we’re late, we won’t hear Master Luo Zhenren’s discourse. That’s why I grew rather impatient, you see.”

“Oh! Another bowl of noodles has arrived. Come now, please eat first. And what might this mountain you mentioned be?” “It’s at the foot of Two Immortals Mountain in Jiugong County—forty-five li from Jizhou’s outskirts.” “If Master Luo Zhenren resides there, there must be many other disciple-priests as well.” “He certainly does! By all accounts, Master Luo Zhenren is the most cultivated among Daoist practitioners—his rank stands a full step above the rest.”

“By any chance, would you happen to know a Daoist named Gongsun Sheng there?” “Ah, if you mean Gongsun Yiqing—the one dwelling in a hermitage with his honored mother—why, he’s right near my own home.”

“Huh? So close by?”

This was surely some twist of fate—Dai Zong could hardly contain his excitement. After meticulously confirming the directions and offering earnest apologies to the old man, they briefly returned to their inn. No sooner had they changed their clothes than they raced forty-five li in one burst via the Divine Travel Technique, soon laying eyes on the secluded realm known as Two Immortals Mountain, five li beyond Jiugong County.

Luo Zhenren’s Immortal Techniques and the Expounding of Human Karma

“Excuse me, might I inquire—”

Then, spotting a woodcutter, Dai Zong inquired.

“Where might Daoist Yiqing’s hermitage be located?”

The woodcutter pointed to the area between the peaks where white clouds swirled.

“You can see a white waterfall there.” “Follow that narrow path below around to the south—at the mountain’s edge, there’s a harp-shaped stone bridge.” “Ask again once you reach that area.” When they went as directed, they encountered a woman descending from an upper mountain path with a hand basket of wild fruits. She looked up and immediately gave them directions. “There.” “Over there—you see that thatched hut’s corridor with ten pillars lined up?” “The small hall visible at the edge of that corridor is the one.”

“Thank you. And is Daoist Yiqing at home?” “Yes, today he was indeed refining elixirs out back.”

Their purpose was achieved. Dai Zong approached with his heart pounding. However, leaving Li Kui far behind, he alone drew near to the door of the thatched hermitage, “Excuse me. Excuse me.”

he called out several times. Somewhere, the murmur of water and the rustling of pine trees played their melodies. Perhaps drowned out by them, no reply came for a long time. As this went on,

“Who is it?” Lifting the inner reed screen with a rustle, the white-haired old woman suddenly revealed half her figure. She wore a patched obi and a half-coat—poverty-stricken enough to be called a mountain hag, yet her mist-veiled eye wrinkles and vermilion lips lent her a bearing not at all lowly. “Ah, Madam,” Dai Zong said with a bow— “I have come all this way seeking an audience with Master Yiqing.” “You, sir. Your name?” “If you would kindly convey ‘Dai Zong of Shandong,’ he should understand.”

“Ah, that’s most unfortunate.” “My son has not departed on any journey.”

“Hmm. But according to the villagers’ words, he was indeed supposed to be here.” “No, he is not present. Kindly take your leave now.”

Then, before anyone knew it, Li Kui—who had come to stand behind Dai Zong—drew the two axes from his waist and gripped them in both hands. “You lie! You wildcat! All right—if you’re gonna play at being out, I’ll flush you out proper!” With that, he suddenly leaped from the side of the thatched hall to the back. No sooner had the old woman’s frantic scream—as she tried to block him—and Dai Zong’s voice scolding Li Kui shattered the silence than a stalwart man in white robes emerged from the distant herb garden. “What’s this? Mother! What happened?”

he dashed over like a startled hare. And suddenly, upon seeing the two there,

“Oh, Marshal Dai! And isn’t this Li Kui?” “Ha! You gave us the slip there, Gongsun Sheng!” “How could you? Threatening my mother with twin axes like that!” “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Never meant no harm! Had to do something drastic or you’d never show yourself!” “Marshal Dai. Please come inside first. Mother needn’t worry—these aren’t wicked men. Let me prepare some tea.”

With that, he led them to a room and welcomed them in. Once they had finished recounting memories since their last parting, Dai Zong spoke solemnly: “The truth is, these are the circumstances.” “If you do not rise up and break through Gao Lian’s sorcery army, then Strategist Song Jiang and the three thousand marsh soldiers will be reduced to white bones in Gaotangzhou’s fields—and furthermore, Liangshan Marsh’s stronghold itself will face total collapse.” “…Would you not bend your will and leave this hermitage to grant us your aid?”

He explained each circumstance in detail and pleaded with increasing urgency.

Gongsun Sheng’s brows clearly showed a pained expression. “—When it comes to a request from those with whom I once swore brotherhood...”

He seemed to writhe in anguish inwardly. He hung his head for a time.

“I fully comprehend the urgency of your distant errand and the peril facing our sworn brothers,” “In my youth, after drifting through rivers and lakes, I was fortunate enough to meet Liangshan Marsh’s brethren, and even now I have not forgotten their years of kindness.” “Yet as you plainly see—I have an aged mother here.” “My poor mother relies solely on me, her only child. I cannot easily leave this place—and moreover, my master Luo Zhenren will not permit me to depart from this mountain under any circumstances.”

“That is most reasonable,” Dai Zong acknowledged. “I find it difficult to press further, but this concerns Liangshan Marsh’s very survival. Is there any way we might secure your mother’s consent?” “Even if my mother were to grant me leave,” Gongsun Sheng replied, “the master I mentioned earlier remains…” “Why don’t we three kneel together before Master Luo Zhenren and plead our case?” “Let me consider it carefully,” Gongsun Sheng said. “Just tonight.” “Instead of that—would you not accompany us at once?” Dai Zong pressed. “The battlefield of Gaotangzhou was already blanketed in morning frosts. The crisis was approaching with winter. We could not rest easy even for a single day.”

Dai Zong also pleaded. Li Kui also pleaded as though he would prostrate himself. Finally, Gongsun Sheng rose to his feet. In any case, he would first pay a visit to his master Luo Zhenren and hear his esteemed opinion—and then decide.

It was not far. The bosom of the peak across the valley. As they followed the path beneath a dense coniferous forest, the crimson sun was beginning to set. Before long, they stepped onto the stone steps of the Daoist temple where Luo Zhenren resided and looked up to see a plaque on the mountain gate,

Zixu Temple

The three characters appeared tarnished in gold.

The temple path ran deep. Constantly, Daoist priests gathered to discuss sutras while the mountain sage expounded the law—a secret altar existed where ascetic practice consumed all being, and the cosmos communed with human souls. What was enshrined were the celestial stars of heaven and terrestrial stars from the three thousand great chiliocosms of the void. There, leaning back in a chair within Songhe Xuan—a figure resembling an immortal who had temporarily descended to the mortal realm astride a luan bird, Luo Zhenren, revered by the worldly folk of the rivers and lakes—suddenly roused from his meditation. “Master Luo Zhenren. “…The person you mentioned this morning has arrived, brought by Taoist Yiqing.”

A young disciple knelt before the chair, bowing reverently as he delivered his message.

“Ah, they’ve arrived, have they? Bring them here at once.” Luo Zhenren seemed to have already foreseen the guests of this day.—Meanwhile, Dai Zong, Li Kui, and Gongsun Sheng—having tidied up their appearance at the Changing Clothes Pavilion—were led by two disciples across a long corridor and soon prostrated themselves beneath the eaves of the Pine Crane Pavilion to perform nine bows of reverence.

“Master,” began Gongsun Sheng— “these two guests have come to seek your august counsel.” “They are my former comrades.” As he spoke, Luo Zhenren swept open his crane-feathered sleeves and fixed eyes keener than the stars adorning his ritual crown upon the three men. “Yiqing.” “Speak no further.” “These are Shandong men.” “I know.” “Then you already understand why they’ve come.” “Hear me well, Yiqing—you who barely escaped this world’s burning house to study life’s nurturing longevity here with your mother.”

“Hah!” “Do not be deluded.” “But Master!” Dai Zong involuntarily scrambled forward and prostrated himself again. “Liangshan’s three thousand troops and Gongsun Sheng’s former comrades are now tormented by the sorcery of Gaotangzhou’s wicked magistrate Gao Lian and stand upon deadly ground.” “The entanglement of evil with evil and karma with karma—such matters are of no concern to this mountain.”

“But...” “Ah, that may indeed be so—but I implore you to grant your disciple Gongsun Sheng a brief leave of absence.” “Thus do I bow low and make this humble entreaty.” “It cannot be done.” “I cannot send this disciple of Luo Zhenren into such blood-soaked streets.”

“Then what must we do?” “Enough! Yiqing, take these guests and withdraw beyond the Pure Gate at once.” So it was that they had no recourse left. Dejected, the three left the gates of Zixu Temple and made their way back in silence beneath the dim starlight of evening. Along the way, the one who vented his anger and ranted curses nonstop all by himself was, of course, Black Whirlwind Li Kui.

“Tch! Quit screwin’ around! Whether he’s Luo Zhenren or some lousy arhat, I don’t care—strutsin’ about like he’s divine when even his own disciples gawk at his nonsense! Didn’t Kume the Immortal himself come crashin’ down from the clouds just from seein’ a red skirt hem? That’s what makes humans human! But this fraud’s yappin’ like he don’t know squat ’bout decency or feelin’s! Fine—if they ain’t human, they’re beasts! Just watch—I’ll rip those mangy hides right off ya!”

“Li Kui! Enough already! …Try putting yourself in Yiqing’s shoes—aren’t you sitting there scowling like an ox?”

“Hmph.” “What a model disciple you are.” “Must really stick in your craw to have your master insulted.” “But my anger ain’t settlin’ either.” “Forgive me, Gongsun Sheng.” “Nah—your insults ain’t anythin’ new to me.” “Why would I give a damn?” “Hahaha.”

However, Yiqing Gongsun Sheng’s position was difficult. Naturally, his words were few. Moreover, Dai Zong could not return to Gaotangzhou as things were and wore a thoughtful expression over various matters. And so, that night, they slept divided among bedding in Yiqing Gongsun Sheng’s thatched cottage. After a meal of vegetarian fare and a round of wine before bed, the three men soon appeared to fall soundly asleep—but Li Kui, who had long been contemplating something,

......Alright. I’ll just slip out now.

With that, he crawled out of the room, took up his twin axes, and raced like the wind—from mountain paths to valleys, from valleys into the heart of peaks. It was as though a black ape were brandishing white flames in both hands as it charged forth.

Already familiar with the layout—the gate of Zixu Temple, the eaves of Songhexuan—Li Kui quietly licked a hole in the shoji of the temple court’s window and peered inside. There, even in this profoundly silent late night, Luo Zhenren remained seated upright in his chair, lips moving faintly as he recited the Jade Pivot Treasure Scripture. Was that richly fragrant thread the smoke from an incense burner? The light of two red-painted candles glowed brightly, illuminating the profile of a white-bearded face and the hollow of a cheek. Li Kui had naively convinced himself—if only this damn immortal were dead, Gongsun Sheng would have no reason to refuse.

Thus, his gaze was nothing less than a blaze of murderous intent, and no sooner had he kicked through the shoji window there than—

“You beast!” “Tear off your false face!” With that, he leapt inside, fiercely brandished his thin-bladed axe, and with a single stroke split Luo Zhenren’s head clean in two from the crown downward.

“Hahahaha.” “What a damn monster—didn’t even put up a fight!” “Huh, so an immortal’s blood is white?” “This ain’t nothin’ but water!” “Yeah, got it.” “He ain’t been eatin’ proper food and never once held a woman—that’s why… Right, time to go.”

Then, perhaps having heard the noise, a blue-clad acolyte came flying from the far end of the corridor and swiftly blocked his path.

“Halt!” “You killed Master—where do you think you’re going?”

“Get out of the way!” “You! Won’t you move?”

Once again under the flash of the axe—the acolyte’s head went rolling. And from the dark corner where it had rolled, the clay doll-like white head looked this way. It seemed to grin.

“Ugh!” Li Kui felt an odd sensation creeping through him—a shiver that ran to the marrow of his bones. “Damn it! For someone like me to—” He bolted out of the temple gate. When he glanced back, the mountain moon hung blue in the sky. Then came a single frantic dash—before dawn could break, while Dai Zong and Gongsun Sheng still slept deeply, oblivious—before he too burrowed into the bedding and faced the next day with feigned innocence. From morning until noon that day, Dai Zong remained seated across from Gongsun Sheng, pressing his case through desperate entreaties, heated arguments, and appeals to both emotion and righteousness—doing everything to persuade him. To Li Kui, it was unbearably grating. He found the whole affair absurdly comical, almost too much to endure.

After finishing the midday meal’s light refreshments, Yiqing resignedly,

“Very well. As you say, we shall pay another visit to Songhexuan.” “Whether Master will indeed reverse yesterday’s words and grant us his pardon, I cannot say.”

And so, once again just as they had done the day before, they left the thatched cottage together. This too was utterly ridiculous in Li Kui’s mind. They would understand once they went there. Once things became clear, Gongsun Sheng wouldn’t be able to refuse—he would just have to feign ignorance—Li Kui thought while secretly sticking out his tongue and trailing behind them.

Eventually, they passed through Zixu Temple. They struck the visitor’s bell three times. A blue-robed acolyte came out alone and inquired their purpose. After waiting a short while, he reappeared.

“Please purify your garments and hands at the Kōi Pavilion.” “Then proceed straight through the customary long corridor.”

Li Kui snorted through his nose. Still feigning innocence after going through the motions of purification at Kōi Pavilion, he trailed behind the two men down the corridor—only for another blue-robed acolyte to appear ahead, engaged in conversation with Yiqing. “Pardon me, Brother Acolyte. “Is Master receiving visitors at Songhexuan as usual?” “Yes. He reclines in his chair, quietly awaiting your company.” “And his disposition today?” “Unchanged from yesterday.” “Please make haste.”

Having delivered this message, the blue-robed acolyte brushed past Li Kui. Li Kui was deeply shocked in that instant. The acolyte grinned. That face—no, that neck—was exactly the same as that of the acolyte he had struck with his axe the previous night. Moreover, soon enough, “Oh, you’ve appeared again.” The voice that came from within was unmistakably Luo Zhenren’s, and there too was the figure of that man. Moreover, compared to yesterday, he was more approachable,

“Well. Proceed… You there—Black-faced ape crouching in the back—come here.”

And there he was.

Li Kui was utterly terrified, and every bone in his body trembled uncontrollably. Originally, this man was a demon star known as the Heavenly Killing Star in the celestial realm, and having been born into the human world by decree of the Heavenly Emperor, he was fated to perform hellish work—shedding blood for world-building and human reformation—until the light of civilization would shine upon the rivers and lakes. This matter—it seemed Luo Zhenren’s divine eye clearly understood. Dealing with this black-faced murderous ape was just like watching a child.

“Li Kui. “What’s the matter?” “Why do you not step forward?” “H-here.” “Strange creature you are. By the way, you two—”

“Hah!” “I shall grant your request.” “I will watch over Yiqing’s mother.” “You may descend the mountain at once.” “Oh—then will you grant Yiqing leave?”

“Hmm.” “However, Yiqing, your training and magic remain merely equal to that Gao Lian’s.” “Therefore, before you descend the mountain, I shall impart to you the secret method of the ‘Five Thunders Heavenly Gang.’” “With this, go and assist Song Jiang.” “Moreover, strengthen the common folk and rectify the world’s ways.” “Yes.” “I shall take utmost care not to forget your teachings.” “Fundamentally, your destiny is thus: in heaven, you are the Heavenly Interval Star.” “On earth, you are the dew upon grass and blossoms.” “It is your nature to sow compassion between people.” “Yet the world remains in an age of shadowy chaos.” “Five thousand years may yet pass before true world-building and human refinement are achieved.” “Until then, those on earth cannot escape their demonic karma—they must kill one another, hate one another, crawl through gore where evil clashes with evil.” “Thus, though this life’s deeds are fleeting foundations, even now we dwell in an era of murky creation.” “With this understanding, you too must venture into Asura’s realm.” “Guard yourself well—do not stray into human desires.” “Make no errors.”

Having received these earnest admonitions, early the next morning, Yiqing Gongsun Sheng parted from his mother, made hasty preparations for the journey, and descended Two Immortals Mountain together with Dai Zong.

As for Li Kui—what had become of him?—he had vanished since the previous night. When Dai Zong suspiciously inquired, Yiqing answered with a carefree laugh. “Oh, there’s no need for you to worry.” “Most likely, Luo Zhenren has taken a liking to him and ordered him to remain at Zixu Temple for the time being.” “…It must be due to his intention to have that Heavenly Killing Star undergo training and be tempered a little more.” “No, no.” “No matter how much Li Kui protested or resisted, once bound by the master’s spell, he’s no different from a featherless vulture—unable to take flight.” “He’d probably given up by now and was eating porridge in the dining hall or something.”

The account of the battle of magical prowess.

And the Matter of the Empty Well That Brought Li Kui to Tears

Outside Gaotangzhou’s city walls, the battlefield stretching a hundred li in every direction had undergone a drastic transformation.

This was none other than due to Gao Lian's sorcery having completely lost its efficacy—he being both a thaumaturge and prefectural magistrate of demonic officialdom. That is to say, even the charge of his demonic formation "Flying Divine Soldiers" and his prized incantation of the "Tai'a Sword" had mysteriously diminished in power, and though they fought relentlessly, his army only piled blunder upon blunder,

“What in the world has happened?” Though suspicious, they finally withdrew their entire force into the city, firmly shut the iron gates, and had no choice but to defend—a situation that had shifted into a deteriorating stalemate.

“Magistrate.

“You really must change your strategy.”

“Ah, Xue Yuanhui.” “Are you saying there is a flaw in my tactics?” “You are by no means mistaken.” “However, among the enemy ranks, a single outrageous fellow has recently joined.” “For you to have not noticed that is rather an oversight, wouldn’t you agree?” “It’s just Yiqing Daoren Gongsun Sheng.” “That’s right—the Daoist sage of Two Immortals Mountain, Luo Zhenren’s cherished disciple, they say.” “Since they have called him here and made him perform anti-evil techniques, even your esteemed sorcery, Magistrate, is thought to have lost its effectiveness, each instance sealed away by that man’s secret arts.”

“Th-that’s not true! That’s not true!” said Gao Lian, a bluish-white flame flickering at his brow as the matter touched upon his sorcery. “If Luo Zhenren of Zixu Temple himself had descended the mountain, that would be another matter. There’s no way my sorcery could be broken by some disciple like Yiqing Daoren. In terms of training within the Daoist realm, he and I exist on entirely different planes. Are you equating Gao Lian with those shallow Daoist practitioners?”

This was only natural.

In the world of Daoism, solemn hierarchies had existed. Through their training, practitioners could gauge each other's levels of magical power. Yet this time alone, Luo Zhenren had specially bestowed upon Yiqing the secret art of "Five Thunders Heavenly Gang" for a disciple who had descended to aid in shaping the world during this dark murky age. This was something Gao Lian had not known. He had stubbornly believed his sorcery stood superior.

All the more, therefore, the sorcery battles he had relied upon himself drove him into great panic and impatience—this during the battle beneath the city walls the very next day. The three thousand Liangshan Marsh troops, raging like a tidal wave, were already clamoring beneath the city walls. At that moment, Gao Lian was positioned on an elevated command platform, “Well, well! Look at that—over there, the bandit strategist Wu Yong, the bandit commander Song Jiang, and beside them, Yiqing Gongsun Sheng has lined up his troops and is directing them.” “Xue Yuanhui! Take an army and bring me Yiqing’s head!” “Don’t falter!” “Gao Lian will confront this and lend his magical power!”

He drew the Tai’a Sword, pressed it to his brow, and chanted an incantation. At once, the surroundings darkened, and from cloud-like currents surged forth thousands of pixiu—ferocious beasts said to have been tamed in ancient China for warfare (pí being male, xiū female)—leaping toward the enemy lines. Simultaneously emboldened by this, the imperial army’s fierce general Xue Yuanhui also had one of the city gates thrown open and charged into the enemy ranks like a torrent, his golden armor and iron spears glittering brilliantly as he roared his war cry.

However. Most of the officers and men did not return to the city. Xue Yuanhui too appeared to have been slain in vain. And no wonder—the pixiu unleashed through sorcery, upon reaching the Liangshan Marsh forces, all fluttered down as mere dead leaves or scraps of paper, providing no reinforcement whatsoever. This stood as irrefutable proof that in this contest of sorcery, Gao Lian had been utterly defeated. Even Gao Lian found his confidence shattered by this turn, and he urgently requested reinforcements from the neighboring prefectures of Dongchang and Kouzhou.

“The magistrates of both prefectures are men who received promotion from my cousin Minister Gao Qiu.” “If they come in full force to aid us—”

And from then on, they completely closed the iron gates of the city walls, heightened the walls, and defended like a shell. However, inside the fortress, a strange phenomenon began to occur this time. Despite it being winter, snakes, lizards, and other reptiles squirmed and crawled about; poisonous moths, scorpions, red ants, and countless other venomous insects of unknown kinds swarmed in such numbers that they even tormented the soldiers in their sleep. So this too must be Yiqing’s sorcery offensive, Gao Lian thought as he desperately performed an incantation, yet his own anti-evil seals had no effect—and of all times, for this to happen here.

“The reinforcements from Dongchang and Kouzhou have arrived!” shouted the watchtower guard. “They’re here.” It was only natural that he leapt for joy.

Gao Lian also went up to the watchtower to see. Looking out, in the dawn wilderness, the enemy Liangshan Marsh army was in disarray, their formations thrown into chaos.

Perhaps they had been caught off guard by a dawn attack. Through the chaotic retreat of fragmented forces, approximately three to four thousand state troops—their vivid crimson banners gleaming in the morning sun—cut through the turmoil and had already reached the base of the city walls.

“Open up, open up! “Quickly open the city gates for them!” Gao Lian issued the command from above. A roar of cheers erupted within the city walls. But what was this? The jubilant cries transformed into hellish screams in an instant. “Look out!” someone shouted—but it was already too late. Those who came pouring in under the guise of reinforcements were Liangshan Marsh’s mountain soldiers—commanders disguised through the strategies of Strategist Wu Yong and Song Jiang: Hua Rong, Qin Ming, Lü Fang, Guo Sheng, Lin Chong; and others led by renowned figures like Dai Zong, Gongsun Sheng, Sun Li, Ma Lin, Zhu Tong, and Ou Peng.

Or rather, there was also a single strange man mixed in—one who could not be called either a general or a soldier. It was immediately clear from how he was already brandishing two battle-axes in both hands and chasing the city soldiers in every direction. It was Black Whirlwind Li Kui. Li Kui had just returned to his comrades' battlefield the day before. The journey to find Yiqing Gongsun Sheng had been with Dai Zong—but at Two Immortals Mountain, he had been detained by Luo Zhenren—and according to him, "Ever since then, at Zixu Temple, I had a scorching moxibustion treatment applied by Luo Zhenren."

he said.

As for what kind of moxibustion that had been, Li Kui had not yet spoken of it in detail. But it was likely Luo Zhenren's chastisement. Li Kui must have been shown Luo Zhenren's immortal arts and sorcery with his own eyes. A single black-faced ape had surely been hurled into the infinite cosmos of ten directions, encountered the transformations of rakshasa and vajra deities, and—to his utter dismay—been tormented beyond endurance before being sent back. Thus he had become oddly subdued and, quite uncharacteristically for Li Kui, appeared almost bashful when the subject came up.

However, on his way back, he had met a peculiar man and brought him along—a blacksmith known as Qian Baozi ("Money Leopard"), who had coin-like scars not only on his face but all over his body. Of course, Qian Baozi was not his real name. His surname was Tang, his given name Long—in other words, he was called Tang Long—and it was said his father had once been a military stockade commander in Yan’an Prefecture, but even among soldiers' children, there were many who turned to banditry. After drifting through gambling, women, and debts, he ended up on the outskirts of Wugang Town, where he was clanging away at his forge when Li Kui happened to pass by and noticed him.

“Please, let me join Liangshan Marsh too.” With that single plea, he had come to this battlefield alongside Li Kui. At first glance, he appeared to be a man with one or two peculiarities, yet undeniably a man of unique talent. With Wu Yong and Song Jiang’s approval—their discerning eyes deeming him acceptable—he had promptly joined the battle formation that same day. That said, he simply couldn’t keep pace walking beside Li Kui. For his part, Li Kui hadn’t so much as glanced back at this new ally. Rather than dwell on Li Kui, we must now turn our attention to Magistrate Gao Lian’s actions. Without even descending from the watchtower, Gao Lian surveyed the cauldron of slaughter beneath his feet, perceived the enemy’s daring infiltration of the city walls, and resignedly closed his eyes—knowing all was lost.

Below, mountain commanders such as Hua Rong, Qin Ming, and Lin Chong,

“Where is Gao Lian?” “Don’t waste your eyes on common soldiers!” “Search for Gao Lian.” “Don’t let that sorcerer-official escape!”

Pulling their bowstrings taut, they shouted demands.

In the midst of this. “There!”

Someone shouted. As if their eyes had been pierced, they brought their arms up to shield them and pointed to the sky. When they looked, a mass of black cloud circled the watchtower and smoothly drifted away from it—something glinted within the ink-black darkness. The light repelled their gaze. But when they endured the pain and stared, it was unmistakably the gleam of a single sword. Moreover, Gao Lian’s figure could faintly be seen forming the Tai’a seal and treading upon the clouds. And before their eyes, it swiftly shifted toward the southwestern sky.

“Th-there!” “You sorcerer!” With a scream, countless arrows chased the cloud. They pierced through it. Yet the cloud guffawed.

At this moment, Song Jiang and Wu Yong—who had realized what was happening—were thrown into complete panic. Though they shouted themselves hoarse giving commands, there remained no means left for them to employ. Then they roared at those around them: "Where is Yiqing? What is Gongsun Sheng doing?!" He had not been unaware. Gongsun Sheng too had been watching this unfold. He stood before a hall in the prefectural city bearing a plaque that read "Kiryokukan," gazing into the void as he concentrated his spirit on the secret incantation of the Five Thunders Heavenly Gang bestowed by his master. In an instant, he conjured a whirlwind that soared skyward, challenged the black clouds, and tore apart the demonic mist enveloping Gao Lian.

Then Gao Lian blew fire from his mouth. It became a single rushing flame that set the castle gates ablaze, but in an instant, it was extinguished by the torrential rain Gongsun Sheng had summoned—and instead, the downpour swelled with white lightning before erupting into a thunderous peal within the clouds. It was as if a fireball had exploded. In the next moment, the sky cleared to a crisp blue, and something soft fell to the ground two *li* outside the city walls.—When they had soldiers retrieve it at once, it turned out to be Gao Lian’s corpse.

In the town, provincial soldiers scrambled to flee through the streets. In the fields, provincial soldiers thundered away in chaotic retreat. Letting them scatter, Song Jiang did not order pursuit. When the city's clearance was complete, he immediately erected a "proclamation" at the crossroads.

1. We do not harm law-abiding citizens. Those who dare violate shall be beheaded. 2. We punish sorcerer-officials without abolishing the law, and execute practitioners of dark arts. 3. Let Heavenly Deities reign above and Earthly Spirits below; let none disrupt the people’s livelihoods upon this soil, and let harmony be nurtured among all. Shandong Liangshan’s Guest Song Jiang

The residents looked relieved upon seeing this. Precisely because Song Jiang had once served as a county clerk, he had grasped the essence of the Three Articles of Law. “Everyone—above all else, immediately search for Lord Chai Jin.” “Confirm his safety.”

Song Jiang issued strict orders. The urgent task was that. The purpose of the battle had been precisely that. However, they could not ascertain Chai Jin’s safety at all. They thoroughly searched every conceivable place in the city—the main prisons, subsidiary cells, underground areas, and tall buildings where he might have been confined—but found nothing. The jailers and guards had already fled in all directions, and they had released the neck shackles and chains of seventy or eighty prisoners in the cells and questioned them, but none knew anything.

On the third day, however, ten-odd members of Chai Jin’s family were discovered. They had been confined in a hastily constructed, board-roofed cell within an unexpected stretch of forest. At this place, guards still remained, and from among them, an old jailer named Lin Ren inadvertently revealed such a thing. “……Indeed. “Well… It’s not that I have no recollection whatsoever.” "...That was a full seven days ago—back when there were rumors that this castle here was in danger, and we were all in a panic." "The Magistrate’s confidants dragged out what appeared to be a single prisoner from the main dungeon and hauled him deep into the forest, I believe." “Well, well—thinking they were surely about to behead him, I watched from afar out of morbid curiosity… That area was dreadfully gloomy even in daylight, you see. Perhaps they found beheading him too unnerving after all… Then those men whispered among themselves, threw the prisoner into a nearby empty well, and left just like that, I believe.” “Well… that is all there is to it, sir.”

“That’s exactly it!” Song Jiang gasped breathlessly. “...Seven days ago? Who saw this?” “Well… perhaps eight days ago? If not, it might have been nine days ago. Until I learned of your proclamation, I didn’t feel alive at all, sir.” “You mentioned an empty well—how deep was it?” “An exceptionally deep empty well—perhaps eight or nine zhang?”

“There’s no water… But no—Lord Chai’s life must already be over. Even without food…” “No, my lord,” said the old jailer, trembling with the joy of being able to publicly voice his conscience for the first time. “We still cannot be certain of that. He is not necessarily dead.”

“Why?”

“To atone for my sins from years as a jailer—whenever there were leftover prison meals or scraps—I’d wrap them in paper and quietly drop them down to the bottom of that empty well.” “But ever since the castle fell, I couldn’t even manage that anymore…”

At that moment, under a shrill voice, someone leaped out from behind Wu Yong and spoke.

“Commander Song! What’s all this dawdlin’? What’s the point o’ scratchin’ yer head over some senile old fart? Let me down into that empty well!”

“Ah, Li Kui.”

“The one who started all this is none other than me, Li Kui!” “That you haven’t forgotten your self-reproach is indeed praiseworthy. However—”

“But this is bullshit! Ain’t goin’ down there to see for myself the fastest way?” “But the method—how could you possibly descend into an underground depth of eighty or ninety feet?” “Just leave it to me!” Li Kui darted off somewhere. No sooner had he done so than he made his soldiers carry large bamboo baskets and hemp ropes back into the depths of the forest—already guided by jailer Lin Ren, Wu Yong, Song Jiang and the others had gathered around the mouth of the empty well, peered inside, and now stood exchanging bleak looks at its unfathomable depths.

“Alright! Back! Back!” Li Kui declared with fervor. “Hey, hey! Go cut down a decent-sized tree nearby and bring it here.” “Then set up a tripod over the empty well.” “Attach the hemp rope from the bamboo basket to it… What? You’re asking about the basket?” “You morons! It’s not some fancy ornament!” “I’m gonna climb into this thing and go down to the bottom of the well.” “Shut your traps and follow my orders!”

No sooner said than done—Li Kui tore off his clothes, becoming stark naked with a body even blacker than his face, and swiftly crouched into the bamboo basket. When they saw this, everyone snickered. This was because the Black-faced ape appeared to be squatting in something resembling an infant's cradle. But only Song Jiang—wondering if even someone like him could harbor such a powerful sense of responsibility to atone for his sins—felt his eyelids grow warm.

“Brilliant idea! Simply brilliant!” “Well done, Li Kui!” “But from a hundred feet underground, neither your voice nor any signal would reach us.” “Attach two or three copper bells there as you go down.” “When the bells ring, we’ll pull up the rope from above.” “Got it.” “I’m countin’ on ya!”

The rope was swiftly lowered. And he kept descending further and further, yet still had not reached the bottom. Eventually, it came to a halt partway down with a limp swing. Li Kui looked up and roared.

“Heyaa!” “What the hell’s goin’ on up there?!”

Then, from above, in a terrifyingly distant voice:

“Take a damn break! We ran outta rope—sent someone to fetch more just now! Once we’ve tied on extra, we’ll lower you again!” Finally, Li Kui’s rear end landed with a thud. Li Kui crawled out of the bamboo basket and ran his hands over the chilly rock surfaces around him. It was unexpectedly spacious. There was also a puddle of water. As he did so, he touched something squishy. It was undoubtedly a human. Lord Chai Jin—my benefactor? He kept calling “Great Master, Great Master” near his ear.

There was no reply. However, there was a faint moan. Got him! Li Kui became frantic. Good news! Good news!

He returned to the bamboo basket and rang the copper bell. Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. Heave-ho! Heave-ho! No sooner had he ascended than he faced those around him and, waving his bare black hands in the air—announced: “Lord Chai’s alive!” “His body’s still a bit warm!”

“So he was there after all.” “Ah, well! Heaven does not destroy a righteous man,” declared Song Jiang and the others, their murmurs shifting from anxiety to relief. “In that case, Li Kui—though it’s a hardship—descend once more.” “And this time, place only Lord Chai’s body in the bamboo basket—you come up afterward!” “Done deal.” “Easy enough.” With renewed vigor, he became once more the man at the well’s depths. Following instructions exactly, he gently lifted Chai Jin’s body into the bamboo basket and rang the copper bell. The bell ascended with a tinkling..., leaving behind the dark underground as it rose toward a faint point of light above. Gazing up at it, Li Kui shouted from the depths of his heart— Ah—by saving Lord Chai’s life like this, I’ve at least partly made up for my mistake.

Meanwhile, above the empty well, the commotion and joy were no ordinary affair.

Before the bamboo basket was pulled up, Song Jiang sent someone running to summon a physician there and immediately had Chai Jin’s body examined. “...Given this pulse...” the physician said. The group felt slightly relieved. His entire body was covered in wounds, but there were no immediately life-threatening injuries. His eyes opened once but immediately closed again. There had been no breath to speak of from the start. The faces of the worried crowd encircling them were fixed on the physician’s every movement and on whether the minuscule silver pellet—divine medicine—placed between his teeth would successfully slide down his throat. They held their breath so intently that they forgot even the passage of time.

But that wasn’t all they had forgotten. They had completely forgotten even about Li Kui, who still remained at the bottom of the well. Song Jiang noticed,

“Ah, right! The bell went up with the bamboo basket.” “Li Kui must be hollering his head off down there!” “Hurry up and haul him out!”

Because he had warned his subordinates, they suddenly went, "Oh, right!" and burst into clamorous laughter. There, they promptly set about the next steps, but before long, Li Kui came flying out of the empty well's mouth, and no sooner had he planted himself here than he flew into a rage. He seemed to have been shouting up from the bottom of the well for over half a ke (an hour), and the desperation of his exhausted sobbing—evident from the hoarseness of his voice—was both pitiable and laughable.

“Hey! What’s so damn funny?” “Quit screwin’ around!” “Since when’s there a law lettin’ you forget about me?!” “My life’s worth somethin’ too!” “Bastards!” “And here’s Mr. Song and Strategist Wu Yong watchin’ this…” “Now, now, Li Kui—no need for rage.” “You’re twice as tough as any man—we naturally feel at ease with you down there.” “Yeah, figures...” “If Lord Chai’s life’s pure gold, I’m just rusty scrap.” “Not even worth a piss-ant to you lot!” “Don’t whine—you’ll shame the Black Whirlwind’s name.”

“I’ve already cried my guts out at the bottom of the well!”

“Hahaha!” “Now now, spare us your wrath!” That day, while devoting full effort to Chai Jin’s recuperation, they retrieved a mountain of treasures from the city’s storehouses. All these were possessions of Chai Jin and the Chai Huangcheng household that had earlier been seized by officials. After reclaiming them, they loaded captured items like weapons and horse gear onto over twenty carts and horses, “Li Kui, Lei Heng, Dai Zong, Gongsun Sheng, and our new brother Tang Long—you five shall escort these goods back to Liangshan Marsh at once.”

And so, the following day, they sent them ahead.

After that, Song Jiang and Wu Yong finished handling Gaotangzhou City. They distributed grain and goods to the impoverished, arrested two or three of Gao Lian’s former subordinates with notorious reputations and executed them in the town square, carefully loaded the imprisoned members of the Chai family and the ailing Chai Jin onto horse-drawn carriages, assembled their entire army, and finally marched back in high spirits to the great stronghold of Liangshan Marsh in Shandong, leaving behind songs of triumph.

The entire mountain area of Liangshan Marsh erupted in thunderous cheers to welcome them, and needless to say, the banquet of gratitude that night and into the following day took on a thoroughly festive air. Day by day, Chai Jin’s body regained its former vigor, whereupon Commander Chao Gai and all others once more offered profound apologies for having burdened him with these trials. Yet Chai Jin chose not to censure them—perhaps deeming this outcome heaven’s will—and instead expressed gratitude for their loyalty. At their earnest request, he thereafter took up residence in a manor built upon a scenic vantage point within the great stronghold. Truly, life proved as fleeting as drifting clouds; human affairs defied all reckoning.

The Imperial Guard's secret corps—the Linked Horse Formation.

This was Biancheng, the imperial heart of Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital. Gao Qiu, formerly Commander of the Palace Command (Commander of the Imperial Guard), had now attained the highest rank among subjects and held the position of Prime Minister of the Great Song. He was originally a mere ball player and street tough from the common folk—this Gao Qiu who had risen to prominence. Another example of the unpredictability of human affairs existed here.

The inner hall of Jingyang Palace was the resplendent Chamber of Reverent Attendance there. When the golden bells of the imperial procession resounded, soon followed three cracks of the whip announcing the imperial advance, and the beaded curtains rustled as they were drawn up,

“Gao Qiu. What urgent matter compels this audience?” From the jade throne came the rounded voice of Huizong—the Subtle and Accomplished Sovereign, Aesthete Emperor, eighth Son of Heaven of the Song Dynasty.

“Haah…” Gao Qiu prostrated himself. “Though this matter cannot be neglected even momentarily, I am filled with terror at daring to trouble Your Majesty’s august considerations.”

“Well, speak then.” “Is this another petty squabble among the Imperial Guard rabble?” “Not so—it portends chaos under heaven.” “Chaos?” “That would be no trivial matter, would it?”

“Allow me to summarize,” “Since last night, urgent messengers and fleeing local officials from Gaotangzhou, Dongchang, and Kouzhou have been pounding at our gates with reports that Liangshan Marsh bandits have ravaged the prefectural cities, plundered all state assets, and even massacred Prefect Gao Lian.” “What? Gao Lian?” “Speaking of Gao Lian, isn’t he your cousin?” “It is as Your Majesty says. However, the death of a mere relative is hardly worth considering.” “What I fear is that should this become the seed of widespread chaos across the realm, it would constitute a grave crisis.” “Already, those bandits of Liangshan Marsh have previously resisted government forces in Jizhou, caused major disturbances in Jiangzhou’s Wuwei Army, and since then have only further fortified their stronghold.” “If not quelled now, it will become a great calamity for the nation.” “Prostrate, I humbly beseech Your Majesty’s divine judgment here.”

Emperor Huizong wore a look of astonishment. Even now, at this very moment at the Xuande Painting Academy in the palace—where he had gathered contemporary imperial court artists of royal academician rank—the Son of Heaven himself unrolled a silk canvas while directing beautiful court ladies to mix pigments; there amidst them all he poured his bashful soul into his treasured brush. His august eyes widened as if unable to endure this disbelief—as if questioning where in all this earth brimming with joyous peace such peril could possibly arise.

“That is most grave.”

“This is truly no ordinary disturbance.”

“Gao Qiu, what should be done? Go on and say what you think.”

“Bestow an imperial edict upon a capable general.” “Who would make a suitable general?” “At present, none can compare to Huyan Zhuo who resides in Runing—a descendant of the renowned founding-era general Huyan Zan from Hedong, versed in military strategy, skilled with twin red copper whips, knowledgeable of all lands under heaven, and deemed an ideal commander for subjugating Liangshan Marsh.”

“Then immediately convey Our decree to the Privy Council and have that man summoned from Runing.”

The land of Runing was quite far. However, Huyan Zhuo, having received the abrupt imperial decree, immediately rushed from his post and, on the day of arrival, first tethered his steed at Prime Minister Gao’s Weimenfu. “You’ve come swiftly.”

Gao Qiu personally welcomed him and conveyed the weighty mission and imperial decree for this occasion, "You are the great-great-grandson of a founding general—a meritorious servant known to all." "May you once more make your name renowned throughout both court and countryside." That night, he hosted a banquet at his official residence, and the following day accompanied him to have an audience with Emperor Huizong. When Emperor Huizong laid eyes on Huyan Zhuo, he too found him immensely reliable. His appearance, bearing, and voice—truly, he possessed a physique capable of withstanding ten thousand men. "Distinguish yourself in service—upon your victory, I shall grant even greater rewards." Having thus spoken, as a send-off gift for him,

Snow-Kicking Black Charger

[He] bestowed upon him a prized steed known as the Snow-Kicking Black Charger. The name "Black Charger" came from its entire body being the color of a crow’s rain-dampened feathers, with only its hooves white. The horse soldiers also called it the "Snow-Kicking Black Charger."

“Prime Minister. I thank you for your recommendation. I have truly brought honor upon myself today.” “Not at all. Your honor must be proven from this moment onward. Now then, Huyan—you’ll be departing shortly—what do you require for preparations?” “A great deal indeed. I hear even Liangshan Marsh’s military provisions now rival those of a major power. To crush them, we first need commanders who prioritize morale—then proper equipment.” “Do you have candidates in mind who possess such qualities as generals?”

“At present, Han Tao is serving as a commander at the Chenzhou training ground.” “He is known as the Hundred Victories General.”

“Any others?”

“Another is Peng Qi, known by the nickname Heavenly Eye General, who currently commands the training forces in Yingzhou. If I have these two as my right and left arms, even if those Liangshan Marsh rabble number in the tens of thousands, I will clean them up neatly within days and show you the results.”

This was the discussion at the Prime Minister’s residence that evening, following their departure from the morning audience.

The following day，Gao Qiu and he conducted a review at the Imperial Guard’s training ground，then proceeded directly to the Privy Council，where they immediately held consultations on military strategy． “I request that an internal decree be issued immediately for the summoning of the two military officers—Han Tao of Chenzhou and Peng Qi of Yingzhou．” Huyan Zhuo requested． And these two men soon arrived in the capital． The remaining matter was the number of troops． Then there was the matter of equipment． Only those remained． As for troop numbers under Huyan Zhuo：3，000 cavalry，8，000 infantry，2，500 logistics and engineering soldiers，and approximately 500 messengers and scouts． In total，he requested 14，000 men．

“Very well. If anything, isn’t that number rather insufficient?” Gao Qiu was not the least bit surprised. However, what truly astonished him was the request for equipment.

Three thousand suits of armor, five thousand helmets, over three thousand swords and long spears, five thousand halberds and glaives, and countless bows and shields. In addition: cannons, stone catapults, and chariots. Furthermore, they loaded up and took along even the large quantity of "Linked Horse Formation" armor that had been lying dormant in the Imperial Guard armory.

And as for the magnificent spectacle on the day when the three great generals—Huyan Zhuo, Han Tao, and Peng Qi—led their three armies, totaling fourteen thousand fierce warriors (猛兵), finally departed the capital gates—it was beyond description. Upon the Lingyun Pavilion, the Emperor himself made an appearance, while officials from the Guards Office down to the Eight Ministries and throngs filling the capital formed dense walls, tossing flowers and setting off firecrackers. Pitiable were the common people there, who knew nothing of Liangshan Marsh being allies of the common people. They heard only that they were brutal beyond compare, demonic bandits no different from devils.

In the meantime, crossing into early spring, the fields were mottled with remaining snow, and the young grass displayed a pale green. The mist over the continent stretched boundless and endless, and though the wild geese traversing the skies knew nothing of it, how could Liangshan Marsh’s ever-vigilant eyes and ears have failed to grasp this information?

“Well, various opinions have been voiced, but this differs somewhat from crushing provincial towns across a single prefecture or county. It requires careful deliberation. It demands prudence.”

Today too, there was a council meeting there. It was the Main Stronghold’s Council Hall. Chao Gai, Wu Yong, Song Jiang—nearly all of the principal leaders and mountain generals were assembled. “Strategist.” “I’ve been calling out ‘Strategist, Strategist’ here over and over, and you’re just ignoring me!”

“Li Kui? What do you want?” “What?” “What’s ten or twenty thousand Imperial Guards? Let me lead the vanguard!”

“It’s a pity, but with just those two axes of yours… you wouldn’t stand a chance.” “Are you saying I can’t even put a scratch on ’em?!” “This time, the overall commander of infantry and cavalry is Huyan Zhuo—a renowned general of Hedong and the great-great-grandson of Huyan Zan. The generals commanding the left and right wings are also distinguished figures. They cannot be taken lightly. Though Mr. Song has yet to voice his thoughts…”

“I can’t conjure up any grand strategies like you want,” “But instead of waiting around, we oughta charge into open battle.” “And open combat’ll lay bare the enemy’s true strength.” “That’s how I see it anyway,”

“I agree.” “Then how about this strategy and formation?”

Wu Yong presented the final plan. According to this strategy, they would first deploy Thunderclap Qin Ming’s unit as the vanguard. Next were Leopard Head Lin Chong, Little Li Guang Hua Rong, Ten Feet of Steel Hu Sanniang, Sickly General Sun Li—positioned as the second, third, and subsequent ranks in order. These units formed a wheel formation, taking turns to strike the forefront of the enemy positions. They capitalized on the disorder.

The five right-wing generals' five units.

The five left-wing generals' five units. In other words, the ten units and two formations formed a crane wing to envelop the enemy. Moreover, it was a military strategy wherein two additional units would proceed along waterways as a naval force, land at a location beyond the enemy's imagination, and strike further at their vulnerabilities.

The garrisoned soldiers of the Main Stronghold immediately departed their station under this military plan and advanced into the distant plain.

When they looked, it was as though the enemy had anticipated this very formation. They erected palisades, set up wooden gates, laid landmines, and fortified their stronghold,

“They’re here.” With swords and halberds creating a white ripple, they wavered momentarily—yet showed no sign of yielding.

The confrontation lasted half a day. The impatient Qin Ming spurred his horse and stood before the enemy,

“This is a place where real men stand! The lukewarm winds of the capital aren’t blowing here! What have you come here for—you tax-gorged thieves?!” “Well, if it isn’t one of the bandits.” Then Han Tao, one of the three great generals of the imperial army, mounted his fury upon a white horse, clad in black iron armor with crimson-tasseled horse ornaments, and gripped a long spear in hand,

“Don’t move, bandit!” Han Tao charged forward. A duel between generals was a wager. In such wagers, none but the combatants themselves could interfere. The soldiers could only hold their breath and watch the field of battle unfold. From time to time, roars of “Waaah!” swirled up like whirlwinds from both armies’ ranks—the sole permitted encouragement.

The duel seemed endless. Yet despite bearing the nickname "Hundred-Victory General," Han Tao now appeared to be in genuine peril. The sight of sweat streaming from his forehead into his eyes made him look unsteady.

“Han Tao, fall back.” “I’ll take that opponent.”

The one who came forth in replacement was Commander Huyan Zhuo. Needless to say, the famous steed Wuzhui—with its white hooves and black coat—caught the eyes of the garrisoned troops.

Lin Chong, positioned second in line, became utterly entranced the moment he saw it. He must have thought, *I won't let that horse end up in others' hands.* His signature eighteen-foot snake spear had barely lowered its head and begun to advance when— "Qin Ming, take a breather."

Lin Chong stood blocking Huyan Zhuo’s path. “Oh! So you’re Leopard Head who once served in the Imperial Guard,” Huyan Zhuo said. “Alas—a fallen wretch who’s joined a bandit gang!” “How dare you,” Lin Chong shot back, “you pathetic court leftovers-eater!”

An arrow was released.

A flash split the sky as something rang out. They were two long whips of thin copper—supple as whale baleen. The whips bore scattered inlays of gold and silver in Western Regions-patterned designs. Only Huyan Zhuo in all the realm possessed the peerless skill to wield these weapons. All who faced this strange armament found themselves utterly confounded at first clash. There was no defense against them—they whistled outward only to snap back in a blink. At times they whirled in circles; at times they undulated like waves. Time and again, Lin Chong’s serpent spear came perilously close to being ensnared. Yet for Huyan Zhuo too, his foe’s spear allowed not a moment’s respite. Together, their weapons became twin breaths of flame.

At that moment, the third reserve unit—Hua Rong—deployed his formation. And Hua Rong took Lin Chong’s place. Lin Chong caught his breath. Seizing this opening, Huyan Zhuo too— “Come back the day before yesterday!”

Leaving Lin Chong behind, Huyan Zhuo withdrew into his main camp. Hua Rong—ignored and infuriated—muttered “...Coward,” and chased after Huyan Zhuo’s figure nearly to the enemy’s main camp, but he was already gone. The ones swarming in were nothing but common soldiers who offered no real fight when struck. “You rabble! Lord Hua Rong is passing through! Out of the way! Out of the way!” While kicking his way back to his own camp, he happened to catch sight of a dazzling general. It must be Peng Qi, the Heavenly-Eyes General. Brandishing a great blade known as a three-pointed sword—its four holes dangling eight rings, now dripping with blood—he spurred his thousand-li steed, the Yellow Blossom Horse, onward,

“Take a good look at your disgrace!” Peng Qi was about to return to his own camp while casting a backward glance at the routed garrison soldiers—and seeing this, Lin Chong, who had been resting, spurred his horse forward once more.

“Wait.” “Peng Qi!” “Hah! You—” “Lin Chong.” “Gah! That Leopard Head?” “So you’re Lin Chong—the one who drew Minister Gao Qiu’s ire, got exiled to Cangzhou, and should be rotting in a penal colony for life?” “You curs of that wicked minister!” “Surprised?” “Hah! You outcast!” “Outcast? I haven’t withered one bit!” “A fine tribute for Chancellor Gao.” “I’ll take that head of yours!”

“Bullshit!” The two kept Hua Rong out of it. Circling their horses around each other, they exchanged flashes of flashing light.

The remaining snow around them turned into black splatters, speckling the two men’s armor, helmets, and even their faces like sesame seeds.

For twenty exchanges, then thirty, they clashed like raining fire, with neither showing any sign of inferiority. At that moment, a female warrior appeared, cutting her way into the fray like a mounted heavenly maiden, the hem and sleeves of her battle robe fluttering. “Oh! It’s Yi Zhang Qing! Watch out! Watch out!” “No, General Lin. Please step back. My twin blades will handle this.” “If you insist.” With that, both Lin Chong and Hua Rong swiftly pulled their horses back a step, “It’s been a while. Why don’t we watch Hu Sanniang’s twin blades in action here?”

and yielded their foe. Peng Qi, who had dismissed her as merely a woman, began showing fluster at this unexpected turn. And yet—

Unnoticed, the battlefield had become encircled from all sides by garrison soldiers. The fifth reserve unit’s Sickly Yuchi had already arrived with his tools at the ready. “This is bad!” Peng Qi’s slightly panicked body created an opening. Without a moment’s delay, Yi Zhang Qing’s sword shot forth. Peng Qi swiftly dodged it, but then a crimson silk lasso resembling a rainbow flew from her hand. It appeared as though a scarlet serpent was about to coil around Peng Qi’s neck. At that instant, Sun Li—the Sickly Yuchi—

“Now!”

“Now!” Sun Li commanded his subordinates. The sound of his order and the ground-shaking crash of Peng Qi falling from his horse came almost simultaneously. “We’ve got him! A fine omen—we’ve captured Peng Qi, one of the enemy generals!” A thunderous victory cry erupted across their position. The captured Peng Qi was immediately hauled far to the rear by garrison troops. Yet this triumphant flush remained strictly localized. Looking elsewhere, their allies’ figures stood bleakly shrouded in gloom. Neither Crane Wing nor Linked Chariot formations remained intact. Complete disarray reigned. The imperial army’s elite core had torn through the garrison’s defenses like paper, unleashing unchecked devastation across the field.

“Ah! This won’t do!” Both Lin Chong and Sickly Yuchi let out involuntary sighs. “Our central army here has Master Song, Strategist Wu, and all our usual seasoned veterans—yet we’re being thoroughly pinned down!”

“What’s happened?” “This collapse—”

Then, Yi Zhang Qing, who had earlier escorted the captive Peng Qi away, came galloping back on her horse. And then she said: “All forces—fall back to the rear and fortify the central army! If we stay scattered like this, every last one of us risks slaughter! This is Strategist Wu’s urgent command!” “Has Strategist Wu gone soft in the head?” “Changing formations now of all times?” “But there’s no resisting when the enemy deploys a stratagem beyond all reckoning! Their cavalry—the enemy has a special cavalry unit called the Linked Horse Formation! All three thousand riders charged in at once!”

“What? What?” “The Linked Horse Formation?”

“Even Liangshan’s mightiest heroes could not withstand it. Lei Heng, Shi Xiu, Sun Xin, Huang Xin—all wounded! Soldiers routed beyond counting—even the Black Whirlwind Li Kui—” “Even Li Kui…”

“Covered in blood, they were carried to the rear. With few troops here, Strategist Wu fears you must withdraw or face peril.” “How mortifying! What devilry is this Linked Horse Formation? It can’t truly be cavalry from hell!” At this, those present too scrambled toward the central army’s position—only to find the land where their headquarters had stood was no longer theirs. All that met their eyes were mud-streaked snowbanks and corpses sprawled endlessly. Tattered banners, spent arrows, shattered spears—nothing but remnants of garrison soldiers. Their comrades’ shadows retreated ever further into the distance.

Moreover, the imperial army’s great hooved force that had dealt this devastating blow appeared to have already withdrawn to their own camp like a tide, singing songs of triumph.

The stench-filled wind blew cold to no purpose, and the evening wind over the wilderness merely honed the pale crescent moon against a pitiless sky. Only Song Jiang and Wu Yong remained unscathed. Yet the battlefield lay silent in defeat. Lin Chong, Qin Ming, Sickly Yuchi, and others stood wordless—they could only bow their heads regretfully before them. “Strategist,” one said, “is it not said that victory and defeat are common in war? Once we understand the enemy, strategies for triumph must surely emerge.” “Master Song—you must regain your resolve.”