Pathway to Japanese Literature

Prelude: The 108 Demon Stars Destined to Dwell in the Human Realm

The time was nine hundred years past.――The loess continent of Cathay was called the Great Song Dynasty, its capital established at Kaifeng (Eastern Capital) in Henan Province, where the imperial legacy of successive Song emperors had been passed down to the fourth sovereign: Emperor Renzong.

It was the third day of the third month in the third year of Jiayou (1058 CE).

Emperor Renzong appeared at Zichen Hall and received with grace the morning congratulations from his court officials on this day. And now, just as the ceremony concluded amidst the celestial music of the imperial orchestra and ten thousand cheers filling the hall—at that very moment when the figure in dragon-embroidered robes seemed about to rise from his pearl-inlaid throne alongside jade-pinned attendants and floral-crowned courtiers—

“Ah, Your Majesty. “We beg but a moment of Your Majesty’s time.” Prime Minister Zhao Zhe and Counselor Wen Yanbo stepped out from the ranks and prostrated themselves before the imperial throne to present their petition. “We humbly entreat Your Majesty—since ancient times, this Shangsi Festival day has been established as one where officials and commoners alike purify themselves in peach blossom streams, sharing harmony and joy without distinction. “If Your Majesty would but demonstrate the fruits of benevolent governance to the lowly on this auspicious day, we believe the glory of the Song Dynasty would endure for ten thousand generations—”

Emperor Renzong abruptly assumed a peculiar expression. “What? You mean to say that even on such a fine day as this, Our people cannot find any joy?” “Precisely because of that—” The two men kowtowed nine times again. “For several years now, the harvests of the five grains have proven unsatisfactory. Moreover, this spring has seen a virulent plague spread throughout the realm—both Jiangnan and Jiangbei, even the Eastern and Western Capitals, reek with the stench of disease. Households languish in hunger; plague-ridden corpses lie abandoned in the roads untended; nights pass in trembling fear of marauding bandits—such is the wretched state we find ourselves in.”

“Hmm. Is it truly that dire?” “Therefore, Imperial Investigators such as Bao Daizhi have been encouraging the medical officials of the Charity Pharmacies and even contributing their own salaries in desperate relief efforts—but alas, they cannot stem the rampant onslaught of the epidemic. At this rate, it is feared that half of mankind upon the earth will perish.” “That is a grave matter indeed! We must immediately order all temples across the realm to conduct grand prayers!”

Whether facing national calamities or personal crises, whenever confronted with grave matters, people's immediate recourse to incantatory prayers was a custom no different from that practiced by the powerful families during our court's Fujiwara era. No—it could only be said this revealed the limits of human understanding at that time: drawing near to civilized society while remaining distant from true enlightenment.

The journey to Jiangxi was long. However, it was also the pleasant season of mid-spring for travel.

General Hong Xin of the Forbidden Gate, leading his vast retinue of chariots and cavalry, departed from the Eastern Capital and after many days' journey arrived at Xinzhou County in Jiangxi.

“The imperial envoy has arrived!” “Do not show any negligence or disrespect!” From the governor down to minor officials, not to mention the local militia and all the men and women of the land—monks and laypeople alike—everyone thronged the roads to welcome General Hong. Needless to say, that night saw a lavish banquet.

The tendency of local officials to fawn over central dignitaries remained unchanged from ancient times to the present. Being an imperial envoy bearing a vermilion-paper edict, the entire county mobilized, with the local officials devoting meticulous care to their hospitality. However, Hong Xin was through and through a military man. He was bold and unflappable. Moreover, being accustomed to imperial banquets and having grown weary of the capital's silver platters and jade cups, no hospitality could astonish his palate or dazzle his eyes.

“Now, now,” said Hong Xin. “Set the cups down. You needn’t keep pressing wine upon me. This journey represents a grave imperial duty for me as well. You’ve seen the edict I had dispatched ahead by courier.” “We have duly reviewed it,” replied the governor, suddenly adopting a deferential tone— “The essence of the Sacred Edict was promptly conveyed to the Shangqing Palace deep within Dragon-Tiger Mountain. All preparations stand complete, and they await your pious retreat.”

“I see.” “Then tonight I shall refrain from defilement, and at dawn tomorrow purify myself through ablutions before ascending to Shangqing Palace.” “You bastards—out of my sight!”

The following day, Hong departed the inn at dawn and headed toward the great southwestern peak—eighty *li* distant from the provincial gate (six *chō* equaling one *li*). Following the guiding prefectural officials, he was borne along in a mountain palanquin, while his hundred cavalry subordinates held aloft imperial envoy banners.

The Dragon-Tiger Mountain region stood for centuries as Taoism's paramount sanctuary, drawing devotion from across the realm. Since the Tang Dynasty, successive dynasties devoutly revered it, and its imperial plaques were gazed upon in vermilion pavilions. Above the valley, a moss-covered stone bridge could be seen, and even deep beyond the overlapping mountains, a thirteen-story pagoda appeared hazy in the distance. The walled compounds and immortal halls where Taoist priests resided spread across peaks and valleys, while the yellow and white blossoms adorning pines and cypresses might well be called a garden where monkeys and cranes frolicked.

Now then, this sacred realm suddenly—as though awakening—had the tolling of a bell resound from a mountain bell tower. The trees shook off fragrant dew, the garden’s immortal cranes flapped their wings, and all the mountain’s birds and beasts cried out in alarm as one. —For there, stretching from Sanqing Palace to the Great Stone Bridge, a procession led by the Abbot Master—comprising Taoist priests, acolytes, and temple guards—now performed rites to welcome General Hong, the imperial envoy, into the immortal precincts. Like colored mist, they wafted incense smoke while chiming golden bells and beating small drums.

“This is a most solemn occasion.” Hong entered the immortal precincts while performing a deep nod of acknowledgment. After quaffing a cup of extraordinary celestial tea, he immediately conveyed the imperial decree’s intent to the Abbot Master. “Days had passed since the Shangsi Festival—the Double Third purification ritual—when Our Emperor Renzong, upon hearing of the unceasing pestilence afflicting the realm, found his imperial heart deeply troubled. On that very day, he issued an amnesty decree, set up charity pharmacies and gruel kitchens at every crossroads, and furthermore dispatched his minister Hong Xin to this distant mountain to entrust Celestial Master Xu Jing with prayers to subdue the plague demons. You know the ritual already, don’t you?”

“This humble priest has duly received it.” “The Imperial Decree of Supplication rests within this brocade pouch carried reverently upon your subject Hong Xin’s chest. I must meet Dragon-Tiger Mountain’s Great Immortal—Celestial Master Xu Jing—to deliver it without delay. Where does the Celestial Master reside?” “The Great Immortal does not dwell here.” “Disdaining even this place’s worldly dust, deeper into the mountains where Dragon-Tiger’s peaks culminate—there he built a solitary thatched hermitage, devoting himself solely to Taoist practice without distraction.”

“So I must climb all the way up there to meet the Celestial Master?” “Only the envoy alone—and solely after completing purification through fasting and ablutions.” “Hmm. What an inconvenience—and this an imperial command.” “However exalted Your Excellency may be as imperial envoy, the Sacred Mountain’s regulations cannot be bent. Since Emperor Renzong—seeking to save the multitudes from suffering—humbly entreats the Great Immortal’s prayers on behalf of all people, for you, his proxy, to undertake such minor austerities can hardly be deemed excessive.”

“Don’t say that—who claimed **I** found it burdensome? I merely deemed it inconvenient. Very well—tomorrow I shall observe purification rites and venture alone to the Celestial Master’s immortal dwelling.”

His spirit burned with unyielding vigor. That morning, beneath the stars, he performed cold water ablutions, donned white hemp purification robes, and slung a yellow cloth bundle diagonally across his back. Inside it had been placed the Imperial Prayer written in the Emperor’s own hand. Then, with a silver-handled incense burner in one hand, he periodically burned incense and chanted “Six Roots Purified,” bearing no blade on his person but relying solely on a single white wooden mountain staff as he departed Shangqing Palace, escorted by a host of Taoist priests. Yet even a man of General Hong’s stature—the stalwart of the Forbidden Gate Army—found himself completely worn out in the mountains beyond that point. On the first night he slept using a valley stream at the bottom of a sea of trees as his pillow; on the second night he laid his body upon a sky-piercing peak like an axe blade. Moreover, the thousand peaks along the path ahead remained steep.

Before long, whenever rain fell, the deep roar of valley streams would rise again, and he could no longer tell whether it was day or night. Tormented by monkeys, his heels sniffed by wolves, he could only search for guideposts among the vines and creepers and rely on them to press onward. Just when he thought he had finally emerged from the primeval forest—a cliff—ah!—loomed overhead; if he circled around, he was blasted by waterfall spray; if he climbed, jagged boulders peered down upon him. Not only that—he encountered two large tigers, male and female—nearly becoming their prey, and lost his courage at the scales gleaming like nothing of this world on a giant serpent; each time, he fled in blind panic. At some point, neither his staff nor the incense burner remained in his hands. Clinging to his sole remaining life, he could barely manage to crawl and stagger onward.

“...Hmm, is that an iron flute’s sound?” It was on one of those days during his journey. For the first time, he encountered the scent of humans.

“Uncle, where are you headed?”

The child was the one who called out.

The child sat sideways astride the ox’s back. In his hand was held the iron flute whose sound had been audible since earlier. “Hey, kid—where’d you come from?”

“From the Central Precinct up ahead.” “Central Precinct…” “The Sanqing Palace where you stayed is the Foot-of-the-Mountain Precinct, this peak is the Central Precinct, and waaay up in the heavens is the Inner Sanctum. ...But Uncle, even if you struggle all the way up there, it’ll be pointless.”

“Why?” “The Celestial Master is away, you see.” “What? He’s not here?” "......" “Th-that can’t be right...” “He’s not here.” “I’m not lying!” “The Celestial Master rode away on a crane to the capital ten days back.” “Apparently there’s this terrible plague raging across the realm, so the Emperor begged the grand elder immortal at Taoism’s main temple for blessings.” “Must’ve been too much bother—the Celestial Master just hopped on his crane and flew straight through Kaifeng’s skies himself.”

“Hmm. How do **you** know such things?”

“I know.” “I may look like this, but I’m no mere village lad who cuts grass.” “I serve the Grand Immortal himself as his page.” “Ah! So that’s it.” “Then take me there.” “I beg you—show me the way!” “How distrustful you are.” “I told you he’s not here.” “Keep dallying and you’ll become supper for tigers or serpents.” “Best hurry home, Uncle.” The child flashed a pitying smile and rode off without looking back. Clutching his doubts yet pressing onward, Hong suddenly found himself—could this still be Dragon-Tiger Mountain’s seventh or eighth station?—confronted by a temple complex centered around an ancient pagoda’s towering form, its halls rising majestically before him.

Dragging his feet, he finally arrived at—

“Would you be General Hong?” There, a group of Taoist priests resembling arhats and an elder master—the master of the Taoists, with an immortal bearing—came out to greet him at the gate, bowing deeply and showing him solicitous care. That was all well and good, but his hopes of revival were immediately dashed. The Elder Taoist Master here also spoke. “Truly, it was most unfortunate. “We too have only just learned of it—that Celestial Master Xu Jing of the mountain summit is already absent.” “So it’s completely true?”

“Whether it be falsehood or truth, did Your Excellency not notice anything along the way?” “I encountered an ox-riding child.” “Ah. That was most regrettable of you.” “Huh? What do you mean by ‘regrettable’?” “That very child must have been none other than the Celestial Master’s honorable incarnation.” “Gah! That was him?” “Thinking it too pitiful to make you waste your efforts as imperial envoy—he must have flown here from the capital in an instant and instructed you to return promptly.”

“Ah…” “I had no idea…” “But come now.” “Set your mind at ease.” “Given that such a divine manifestation has occurred, by the time Your Excellency returns to the capital, there can be no doubt that—through the Celestial Master’s miraculous power—the imperial prayer will have already been fulfilled.” Comforted, he spent that night in an ancient hall shrouded in mist, sinking into a deep sleep.

“Now that matters stand thus, there remains no alternative—we shall reverently enshrine the imperial prayer edict in Shangqing Palace’s main hall and have you return to the capital with all haste.” Having steeled his resolve and made this declaration, the Elder Taoist Master commanded ten Taoist priests to— “Escort the imperial envoy back to Shangqing Palace.” he said.

Surrounded by ten Taoist priests, Hong exited the stone gate. They walked for nearly half a day. But what was this? Despite having climbed through such perils over many days and nights—attacked by tigers and venomous snakes—the descent, though still a descent, had been as pleasant as walking on flat ground. And in the blink of an eye, with the roof tiles of Hōtō Senkan blurring into the mist, they found themselves back at the Sanqing Palace where they had been before. The following day, the imperial edict was reverently enshrined within the Imperial Edict Box in the innermost sanctum of Shangqing Palace’s sacred gate. With the ceremony concluded, night brought a grand feast that engulfed the entire mountain. The mountain feast consisted entirely of vegetarian fare. Had they descended without incident then, all would have been well—but as was ever the way with military bureaucrats, once wine flowed, their true natures began to surface. Perhaps he felt that leaving under such circumstances would compromise his dignity. He had been maintaining an air of solemnity when he suddenly caught snatches of surrounding chatter,

“What? What? This Demon Hall you just mentioned—where exactly is this hall located?” “Ah. Did our words reach your ears? It is indeed one of the inner halls of Sanqing Palace.” “Hmph. The sacred precinct’s expanse defies comprehension at a single glance. I’ll likely never set foot on such a mountain again. Tomorrow morning, you’ll let me tour every hall and pavilion here!”

“Understood.” “We would be honored if Your Excellency would tour all the halls.”

The chief priest and the Taoist masters took the lead in guiding him the following day. Then, they showed him around Shangqing Temple’s renowned temple structures spanning the Tang Dynasty, Five Dynasties, and Song Dynasty eras, and finally proceeded into the deep inner corridors of the Hall of Nine Heavens, Purple Tenuity Hall, and North Pole Hall. “To your right is Taiyi Hall, and to your left lies the Demon Hall we mentioned last night.”

With that, he paused.

In the faint, serene twilight of the surroundings—where even the dim sunlight seemed muted—there was nothing but the distant echoes of small birds, and something—a faint chill—pricked at the skin. “So this is the deepest recess of Shangqing Temple.”

“Indeed.” “This is the innermost ancient temple within.” “That door over there on the stone wall—the one secured with iron chains and an imposing lock—what is that?” “It has been passed down as the shrine that never opens.”

"A door that never opens, eh?" muttered Hong, striding forward without ceremony. He seemed to feel some resistance. If one were to look up—a massive cliff. It was a stone cavern hollowed out at its base. When he approached, on a stone pillar beside it, Hall of Subdued Demons

were carved the four characters: “Hey, Chief Priest—open this up and show me what’s inside.” Hong, upon reading “Subdued Demons” and hearing “door that never opens,” seemed to have his characteristic arrogance suddenly seethe and flare in his chest. “S-such words are unthinkable from Your Excellency!”

The chief priest and Taoist priests turned pale.

They declared in unison: “To begin with, the demons enshrined and sealed here are none other than all the evil spirits of this world.” “To explain in detail: since the time of State Preceptor Dongxuan of Kaishan from Great Tang, successive generations of ancestral grand immortals have captured and subdued demonic entities, sealing them within this cavern. It must not be opened recklessly.” “Ha ha ha ha! “What nonsense!” “No, no—this is no laughing matter.” “If you were to open this place—even by mistake—the Demon King within the cavern would seize his moment and leap forth into the human realm. Not only would the world’s order descend into chaos, but he would infiltrate even the wisdom of men and lurk within their very bowels—a calamity from which we could never recover, so it has been foretold.” “Therefore, throughout nine generations of Taoist law, and I myself having dwelled upon this mountain for thirty years, never once have we witnessed anyone lay a hand upon this iron lock.”

“That’s precisely why!” “Hearing that only makes me want to see inside all the more!” “Th-that is... far too... improper of a request, Your Excellency!” “What’s ‘improper’?” “What’s unseemly about using my courage to dispel your preposterous delusions?” “Call blacksmiths to cut the chains!” “We beseech you, refrain from this act!”

“I refuse! If you refuse, I’ll report to the imperial court and brand you all as demon worshippers! You lot want your heads strung up like prayer beads along the Shangrao River?” Once spoken, General Hong never took back his words. He had become precisely the man who made his subordinates bark orders at the capital’s guard office.

The chief priest and Taoist priests, trembling in fear and flustered beyond measure, eventually crowded around the secret door’s entrance. From the iron hammer scattered sparks; from the stone axe rose an eerie clangor and odor. An eerie echo—creak... creak... creak...—and a gut-wrenching grating of something.—Hong, who had been watching intently, no sooner had it opened than he leapt headlong into the yawning darkness,

“How’s that? Look there—nothing’s wrong at all! What’s so ‘heavily guarded’ about this door? What’s this ‘curse seal’ nonsense? Ha ha ha! Everyone, get in!” With that, he thrust both hands toward the ceiling as if overcome by utter delight. —Yet the darkness remained absolute; even when moving about, nothing could be seen. He bellowed again from the depths. His voice echoed through the hollow chamber, each word splitting into twin reverberations. “Hey! Light the torches! All of you—bring those flames and follow behind me!”

The cavern—as though modeled after the womb of a Buddha’s body—had a narrow mouth that widened as one progressed deeper, its four walls adorned with carvings of various Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and the Twelve Divine Generals. “Oh!” “Dangerous!”

Hong stumbled upon a stone tablet.

When they called for torches and looked closely, they saw that this area alone formed a circular plaza. Profound darkness—for hundreds of years, this cold earth had never known even a sliver of sunlight. There stood a stone tablet about six feet tall, jutting upward abruptly, while the stone-carved giant turtle serving as its base bore the monument on its back—appearing as though it had not awakened from its slumber for ages. “I can’t read this.” On the front face of the stone tablet, something was finely carved—the entire text appeared to be in ancient divine script. What? On the back, there was nothing but ordinary regular script. “Let me see...”

He, smoked by the crimson flames, casually circled to the monument’s rear and pressed his face close.

Four large characters. It read: 遇洪而開 → **Encounter Hong and Open** It read: “Oh!” “Encounter Hong and Open?” … “Hmm... ‘Hong’—that’s me. ‘Encounter Hong and Open’—so meeting me causes it to open?” Whatever came to mind, he contorted his entire body and let out a deep groan. And with a voice tinged with madness, he ordered them to topple the stele, inspect the stone turtle, and dig up what lay beneath. Of course, the people did their utmost to remonstrate against his recklessness. They wailed and pleaded through tearful entreaties,

“How dreadful! How dreadful!” “We implore you, p-please desist from such an audacious act!”

Collapsed to the ground, they did not rise.

“Shut up!” Hong roared. “What’s all this baseless dread? Look at the text on the stele. ...‘Encounter Hong and Open’—it says right here, doesn’t it? The ancient immortals had already prophesied that I would come here today. Anyone who says ‘no’ will have their bare head lopped off!” When Hong struck the sword hilt, the people trembled violently and could only move obediently at his command. By the might of many hands, the stele was toppled, and the stone turtle was shaken from its centuries-long slumber. And as the stone turtle—after rolling once, twice to expose its belly—thundered against the earth, a roar like that of a giant boiling cauldron erupted beneath the people’s feet.

“Whoa—this is deep!” After removing the turtle, a giant hole opened. The hole plunged to unfathomable depths—it seemed to lead straight to the abyss. No, no—they could not remain prostrate and peering into it. The moment they did, from the earth’s very axis came a gurgling rumble like a hundred thunderclaps. Both General Hong and the people—

“Ah—” they covered their ears and recoiled. What was this? It all happened in an instant—an ink-black mist, chillingly clear and cold, swept over their collapsed forms. Colorless and odorless yet undeniably present, it gushed from the chasm’s depths. Demonic footfalls, demonic laughter, demonic tumult—no other words sufficed. The earth’s roar persisted unabated; a single convulsion shattered surrounding walls and shook mountains to their roots. Dragon-Tiger Mountain’s peaks howled as one while Shangrao’s waters surged from the Xin River, threatening to swallow foothills whole.

“Ah... Th-this is... Wh-what in the world is happening?” Hong fled outside the cavern in a blind frenzy. No—it would be closer to the truth to say he was struck down by some unseen force and hurled beneath Mayaden’s bridge corridor.

In any case, even when he somewhat regained consciousness, the cavern was still shaking and roaring. As he gazed up at the black cloud trailing a single tail rising to the midheaven, a flash of crimson radiance pierced his eyes—and in that instant, it shattered into countless demon stars that scattered across the mortal sky, flying apart in all directions. Hong merely staggered about like a witless fool, waving his hands and muttering incoherently. The commotion throughout the mountain went without saying. However, since the perpetrator was an imperial envoy, punishment was impossible. The abbot of Sanqing Palace declared to General Hong’s vacant face with profound lamentation:

“Come now, you must descend the mountain at once.” “There is no alternative—we can only await Master Xu Jing’s return.” “Yet within that cavern shrine were sealed thirty-six Heavenly Spirits and seventy-two Earthly Fiends—one hundred and eight demons in all. What a dreadful deed you have wrought, Your Excellency.” “Out of mere curiosity, you broke the seal’s taboo and scattered one hundred and eight demons across the mortal world—now I shudder to imagine what future calamities we shall witness. At the very least, devote yourself to piety for what remains of your days.”

In Taoism, this universe was viewed as consisting of two realms—the demon realm and the immortal realm—revering constellations such as the Big Dipper, Taiji, and the Twenty-Eight Mansions, which were regarded as being closely connected to the workings of human affairs: order and chaos, fortune and misfortune. Therefore, they venerated the virtuous stars in the firmament and sealed away malevolent stars with Taoist incantations.—For generations, the Taoist ancestors of Dragon-Tiger Mountain’s Shangqing Palace had painstakingly cultivated their spiritual path to preserve peace in the mortal realm. Yet today, all their efforts were undone—the 108 Demon Stars were set rejoicing and returned to the world they once knew.

“How can this not be feared?”

On the day General Hong Xin dejectedly descended the mountain, the abbot continued to prophesy the future and lament ceaselessly. “The 108 Demon Stars are none other than the Blazing Confusion Star.” “For tens of thousands of years in this universe, countless stars have orbited the sun with perfect discipline, never once disrupting their celestial laws.” “But this Blazing Confusion Star is an exception.” “It does not follow the proper course, merely flickering in and out of sight around the sun as a pretext.” “The workings of the mortal world are exactly as I described. Yet you, Your Excellency, have willfully driven them back to their original lawlessness.” “Truly… is human karma but an inexhaustible destiny…?” “Ponder this deeply.” “Chastened by the Five Dynasties’ wars, they once thirsted for peace—peace and more peace. Yet now, after several decades of Song rule, that very peace has persisted too long. In the current state of society, have they not grown weary of tranquility?” “Should we call it irredeemable human nature, or perhaps a weariness with peace—that they have revived the 108 Demon Stars, longing to see this boundless chaotic world unravel once more? …Ah.” “Alas! No matter how much we lament, it can no longer be undone.”

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

Emperor Renzong commended him.

“Hong Xin.” “Your journey must have been arduous.” “However, Celestial Master Xu Jing of Dragon-Tiger Mountain, in compliance with Our decree, immediately rode a crane and appeared in the capital.” “And thanks to his performing seven days and seven nights of prayers, the plague among the people was swiftly extinguished, and the capital’s markets regained their vitality.” “Truly, the potency of the Celestial Master’s power outpaced even your return.” “Hong, be at ease.”

Contrary to all expectations, this was the imperial decree. Hong broke into a cold sweat, yet the beauty of the dragon countenance before him showed no sign of falsehood. Naturally, he never breathed a word in his report about having broken the demonic seal in the mountains. After retreating to his private residence, he spent his remaining years in solitary dread, conducting himself with utmost caution until his life's end.

Fortunately, during his lifetime, no major incidents occurred; the world grew ever more accustomed to peace and tranquility, and during this period, the Song imperial court witnessed four imperial successions—from Renzong to Yingzong, Shenzong, and Zhezong. Since the third year of Jiayou, over thirty years had now passed.

………….

And thus began the grand continental tale of *The Water Margin*—where the 108 Blazing Confusion Stars, having broken their seal to fulfill their earthly destiny, transformed into humans and formed Liangshan Marsh, ultimately imperiling the Song Dynasty’s realm. This saga, born from the events recounted above, would henceforth unfold from this very era.

When viewed in light of Japanese history, this corresponded to the dawn of the era when Taira no Tadamori and Kiyomori—who represented the disaffected warriors under Emperors Toba and Sutoku—were about to usher in the Heike period in our court.

The climate of East Asia, its cultural artifacts, its peoples—ever since the Japanese missions to Tang China, bound by shared exchange across this singular sphere—were akin to a mere reed’s breadth across waters, a continent not so distant. Yet this coincidental convergence of temporal currents evoked a sense of something far from accidental.

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

Within the imperial court, signs of unrest could not go unnoticed of late. The schemes of powerful ministers and the deposing and exile of empresses—like the rot of a bloom at its peak—seemed to hasten nature’s inevitable decline. The signs of this decadent twilight were overwhelming to behold even in the customs of Bianliang, the Eastern Capital’s sons and daughters.

But the common people remained in carefree peace. Whatever might be brewing, the court’s internal affairs held no more interest than a neighbor’s marital quarrel.――Far more compelling was the destination they raced off toward that day, which seemed a far graver incident.

“What’s this? What’s this?” “A hundred lashes?” “Seems so.” “A villain who’s been lashed and sentenced to exile is being dragged off by officials right now.” The city gate was pitch black with the press of the crowd.

When one looked, there was a man of twenty-five or twenty-six—who looked every bit the idler—restrained by jailers and being thwack thwack beaten beneath a green bamboo rod that marked each strike with chanted counts: “One… two… three…”

“Oh, isn’t that Gao Qiu?” “Oh, ain’t no mistakin’—that’s Gao Qiu.” “Poor guy—Gao’s finally met his reckoning, eh?”

Though still a youthful exile, there seemed to be no one who did not know him. He was unemployed. However, in this Eastern Capital, there was a libertine named Gao Erlang—the son of an old merchant family that had existed for generations. Though he lost his family fortune like his parents before him, he excelled in the arts of strings and bamboo, possessed a fine singing voice, and was adept at calligraphy, spearmanship, staff fighting, horsemanship, and every manner of miscellaneous skill. Particularly in gambling kickball, he was renowned as a master. Ostensibly, he engaged in work as a *taiko-mochi* retainer in the pleasure districts, but he relished fights and disputes, and there was also a chivalrous air about him. Of course, numerous misdeeds had surely followed. The accumulated evil had been exposed, and it must have finally led to today’s punishment.

——And all this while swinging a green bamboo rod, “Eighty… eighty-one… Ninety… One hundred!”

As the jailers—who had been shouting the count with each strike on Gao’s back—reached “One hundred!” and began to withdraw with a relieved sigh,

“Hey, wait! You haven’t delivered the full hundred lashes yet! Why are you skimping on the count? So all of you have taken bribes from Gao the exile!” There was a man who thus rebuked even the jailers tacitly permitting this around them. That man was a warrior named Wang Sheng—an instructor of staff techniques for the Imperial Guard soldiers—who had come to witness the proceedings. For the jailers, bribery was routine; they considered it legitimate income and never thought it vice. But being publicly accused in broad daylight like this left even them with no ground to stand on. They attempted some objections, but given that their opponent outranked them and was none other than Wang Sheng—instructor of the Imperial Guard—even their official authority could not prevail against 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 over forty more times with the green bamboo rod. “Alright! Cast him out!”

When Wang Sheng spoke, Gao’s bonds were untied for the first time. Gao Qiu staggered to his feet. When driven out through the city gate, he was banished from four prefectures and forbidden ever to tread again upon the capital’s soil. Gao stroked the earthworm-like welts mottling his skin and turned a venomous glare over his shoulder at Wang Sheng.

“...You’ll remember this.” “You stick-wielding blockhead!” “And don’t pretend you’re ignorant of your own past either... Mr. Gao!”

Thus, he drifted alone to Linhuai, a merchant town in Huaixi (Anhui Province), and idled for about three or four years under the roof of Liu Shiquan, the local power broker.

In time, an amnesty decree was issued throughout the realm. Originally, as his crime was minor, Gao Qiu too received the amnesty’s grace. But once that happened, without any means to sustain himself, he grew eager to return to the Eastern Capital. But even if he returned, there was no immediate employment to be had. So, wondering what to do, he consulted Liu. “Alright, I’ll write a letter to my relative Dong. Take it and go home.”

he said. After four years had passed, Gao returned to his old haunt.—Immediately taking up the letter, he set out to search for the addressee near Jinliang Bridge within the city walls. “Ah—this must be the shop,” he thought. “Dong Jiangshi’s house.”

The establishment was an impressive medicinal herb wholesaler. When he met the proprietor Dong and presented Liu’s letter, Dong accepted without a moment’s hesitation, not even inquiring about his past. “Is that so? “Having spent four years in Linhuai, it’s no wonder you’d become unacquainted with your birthplace, the royal capital. “As our business brings us into contact with various official households, we shall endeavor to find you suitable employment in due course. “Well, please make yourself at home.”

Gao thanked them for their kindness and stayed for about half a month. During that time, perhaps having observed his versatile talents and brilliant disposition, Dong one day wrote a letter of introduction, “How about this? “It’s a waste for you to keep idling around forever.” “Why don’t you take this and try visiting the residence of a certain scholar with whom I am most closely acquainted?” “Nah, thanks.” “If I can get work, I won’t make any extravagant demands.”

Gao knocked on Xiao Su Scholar’s gate. But this scholar slightly furrowed his brows. A scholar’s life was not an easy one. As they conversed in depth, he found him to be a man of different disposition from himself.—Yet bound by obligation to Dong’s request, he wore an expression that seemed to say refusal was impossible,

“Hmm.” “Well then, 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 among his retinue. Should fortune favor you, you might well find employment there.” Though Xiao Su Scholar’s tone rang thoroughly dubious, Gao nevertheless sought out Wang Jinqing the following day. Yet when he stood before those resplendent gates, even this brazen rogue faltered mid-step.

This was an imperial household. The one whom society called “Prince Wang the General”—the current emperor’s son-in-law—seemed to be none other than Jinqing himself.

Hmm... what should I do? That Xiao Su Scholar bastard - maybe he introduced me here just to drive me away... Ah... screw it! Fortune favors the bold!

Steeling his innate courage, Gao boldly strode through the gate, deliberately inviting confrontation. And after being seized by the guards, he soon handed Xiao Su Scholar’s letter to the courtier who emerged and declared in a smooth voice: “I am absolutely not a suspicious person. “I have come seeking employment and am confident in my professional abilities. “Regardless of your approval or rejection, I humbly beg you to grant me an examination. I earnestly request your kind intermediation.”

At that very moment, Prince Wang the General lay within a secluded pavilion, idly stifling a yawn on this spring day devoid of purpose. This marked the very pivot of Gao Qiu’s fortunes. Hearing the intermediary’s report and examining Xiao Su Scholar’s insincerely penned letter,

“Hmm.” “That does sound like an intriguing scholar.” “What? You say he bears no resemblance to one?” “Well... It matters not either way.” “To while away my boredom, I shall grant him an audience and put him to trial.” “I myself will appraise this man.” “Escort him hither.” With that, he rose from the elegant daybed—a long narrow couch—where he had been reclining and lightly adjusted the silk cords of his ceremonial cap.

The fortune born of kickball prowess soared to the heavens, leading to a meeting with the aesthete Emperor Huizong.

In the world of talented individuals, there generally exist two types: the showy minor talents that irritate like a persistent odor, and the reticent sincere sort who let actions speak. Even a man like Gao Qiu surely grasped such distinctions in conduct. Though subjected to direct examination by Prince Wang the General himself, he refrained from flaunting his abilities at once. Instead, he maintained throughout the demeanor of a modest and upright youth when making his first impression on the nobleman. “Indeed—worthy of Xiao Su Scholar’s recommendation. This man would bring no shame to our household were he added to my retinue.”

Prince Wang the General seemed to have taken an immediate and complete liking to Gao upon their first meeting. He glanced back at the ranks of his attendants and remarked: “How about this? What do you all think? This man has quite a favorable countenance, does he not?”

After appraising him in such terms, the matter of his employment was settled immediately.

Thus, Gao Qiu—a mere street urchin of the marketplace—had now unexpectedly become one serving in the mansion of Wang Jinqing, the current emperor’s son-in-law (an official title for those married to the emperor’s daughter).

It was truly nothing but the kind of luck where even a dog wandering about gets hit by a stick—sheer happenstance. Yet among those who meet with fortune, countless prove unable to wield it effectively across their lifetimes. In this regard, from that moment onward, he became like a fish granted water. The latent acuity he had kept wrapped within gradually unveiled its keen edge, and his manifold talents soon rendered him an indispensable confidant at Prince Wang the General’s side—a favored courtier without equal.

And around this time, he changed his name to Gao Qiu. He replaced the fur radical (毛) in "Qiu" (毬) with the person radical (亻), thus changing it to "Qiu" (俅).

In time, there came a certain year. —With it being the birthday celebration of the household head, Prince Consort Wang, a splendid array of carriages formed a veritable market at the gate of this pavilion. At the flower-decked towers, musicians and songstresses lined up; upon glass and silver platters, delicacies were lavishly arranged; and nobles from court and beyond vied in their finest attire. Among them, the most conspicuously noticeable noble prince—what manner of personage was he? “Ninth Prince! Ninth Prince!”

The Ninth Prince was reverently ushered to the seat of honor at the banquet. While receiving courtesies from Prince Wang the General’s family and guests of both sexes—treatment unbefitting even those of lower station—each time amber cups brimmed with the Purple Mansion’s famed wine, he seemed ceaselessly entreated to partake in drink.

Moreover, the exquisite beauty of this lord’s features made even the flowers in golden vases and the fragrance of celestial peaches on jade platters lose their luster. Thus, it was inevitable.

When the Jiaofangfu courtesans had finished their dance performance, their crimson skirts and emerald sleeves immediately swarmed eagerly around this noble prince, "Oh, Prince Duan Your Highness. "My, you're being unusually prim today!" "Though you're the guest of honor today, Your Highness needn't put on such a formal face. Do relax a little more."

Like butterflies fluttering around a peony, they began to playfully tease.

“Ha ha ha.” “Is that so?” “Do you really look that prim?”

Prince Duan of the Ninth Palace wore a refined bitter smile as he skillfully fended off the swarm of courtesans’ advances. Yet his usual conduct appeared to harbor a glaring weakness, for it took earnest effort to silence their teasing tongues. The attending guests watched this exchange with amusement, their cheers growing so frequent they nearly drowned out the huqin fiddles and sheng pipes from the music hall. This occurred not long after the birthday celebration.

“Gao Qiu. Take this gift and pay a visit to the Ninth Prince’s palace.” By Prince Wang the General’s command, he was dispatched that day to Prince Duan’s palace as an envoy.

Naturally, Gao Qiu understood everything. During the recent birthday celebration, there had been some stationery items in the study where Prince Duan had rested that had casually caught his eye—a jade brush holder carved with dragons and a lion-shaped paperweight. “If they please you so, I shall have them delivered at a later date,” Prince Wang the General had promised Prince Duan on that occasion—a pledge Gao Qiu had overheard from nearby. The gifts must undoubtedly be those two items. Gao Qiu set out on this day’s errand carrying with him a sense of having been granted a rare opportunity and an air of ceremonious grandeur.

For this Prince Duan—referred to with such reverence—was none other than the Eleventh Imperial Son of the late emperor, younger brother to the reigning Emperor Zhezong, and one who had even received the dignities of the Eastern Palace (Crown Prince). No—the reason Gao Qiu had privately admired this lord was not only evident from how the Jiaofang courtesans had made such a commotion around him but also because he had long heard that this was a remarkably refined and stylish noble prince. That he was a cultured gentleman—proficient not only in the Four Arts of zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting but also skilled in string and wind instruments, kickball, dance, and even Confucian and Buddhist scholarship—while also attuned to the sentiments of the common folk, stood as a reputation none in Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital, were unaware of; he—

"I do wish I could somehow have a proper conversation with him just once," he thought. "If I could demonstrate the utmost mastery in every aspect of that art to him from this Gao Qiu, he would undoubtedly recognize me as peerless and grant me his favor—" Such had been the ambition he had long secretly harbored in his heart.

The Eastern Palace was a quarter within Bianliang City.

When he reverently approached the mansion gate, the guards— “From whom do you come?” Their authority was markedly different from others’. “I am a messenger from Prince Wang the General, bearing honorable gifts for the Ninth Palace.” Hearing this, the guards immediately opened the gate. With that, he leisurely proceeded inside, but then once again made his approach toward the attendant of the middle gate. The attendant of the middle gate, composedly,

“You have had a trying journey. However, as His Highness is currently at the kickball field enjoying a game with court nobles, if you would be so kind as to wait here for a while?” said the attendant. “Ah. Is His Highness at the kickball field?”

When it came to kickball—his very specialty—he couldn’t simply let it pass.

Gao involuntarily made a face as if swallowing his spit and said: “Kickball is a path this humble one also favors. Might I be permitted, even as an outsider, to catch a glimpse of the palace’s illustrious kickball grounds?” “Easy enough,” replied the attendant. “Then I shall guide you.”

Threading through the wooded gardens, they soon emerged into a sunlit plaza where already the crisp sounds of kickballs met their ears. They were all undoubtedly kickball-loving upper-class nobles, princesses, and lords. Surrounding the spacious kickball field, some groups leaned against couches and chairs while others stretched their legs on the grass watching the match. Gao too quietly blended into those perfumed sleeves and watched from a distance as an outsider. Just then it seemed one match had concluded. Following the ensuing commotion Prince Duan’s figure could be seen standing beneath the “goalpost”—his kickball attire undeniably nimble in appearance. He wore his hair bound with a thin gauze Tang-style headcloth; his outer robe was white with gold and indigo embroidery in purple floral patterns its sleeves adorned with flying dragons and on his feet were phoenix boots. And observing the opposing team’s formation

“Ready?” No sooner had he spoken than Prince Duan strode purposefully toward the ball that a servant had placed at the center of the goalpost. In accordance with court hierarchy, the highest-ranking noble would kick first, then each subsequent participant in order—second seat, third seat, fourth seat—passing the ball toward opponents positioned at the eight goalposts. Truly, Prince Duan’s techniques were as elegant as befitting royalty, and moreover, flawless in both receiving and passing. However, due to some error, a ball that had veered off someone’s shoe tip suddenly came flying toward the spectators.

“Ah! Look out!” The people struck overhead parted the crowd and tumbled down. However, Gao Qiu—who happened to be nearby—seized the chance and leaped forward. With a resounding *thud*, he kicked the ball far toward Prince Duan. “Oh! Impressive!”

A voice rang out like an echo in the distance.

Subsequently, the owner of that same voice—having apparently immediately noticed Gao Qiu’s presence—called out as follows.

“The one who kicked the ball just now.” “Approach.”

“Yes,” said Gao Qiu as he stepped forward. “And you are?”

“I beg your forgiveness.” “As it is a skill I have long cherished, I inadvertently lost all sense of propriety regarding my station.” “No, no.” “It is not a rebuke.” “The technique you just employed—among the secret arts of the Ten Kicks of Kickball—I perceived it as none other than the most difficult: the Mandarin Duck Twist.” “Truly, Your Highness’s discerning eye is peerless.” “Just who are you, and from where do you hail?” “I am Gao Qiu, a retainer of Lord Prince Consort Wang.” “In truth, by my lord’s command—” With that, he promptly presented the two boxes of gifts there and began to explain the purpose of his visit—but Prince Duan appeared far more enthralled by Gao Qiu’s exquisite kickball techniques than by those offerings.

“Very well—I shall hear the details later. Rather than that—show me your technique here in full once more,” he pressed eagerly. There was no need for urging. Gao Qiu, recognizing this as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, found himself unable to suppress the flush rising to his cheeks. However, he feigned modesty to the utmost and declined again and again, but as His Highness Prince Duan would not permit it, “Then, though it is nothing more than a mere dabbling in amateur techniques—” With that, he stepped forward to the center and performed all the forms of the Ten Kicks of Kickball.

From shoulder techniques, back techniques, and knee techniques to fundamentals of the five-body ten-part system such as the Sharp Flight and Tower Dance Method, there existed eighty-eight intricate forms, along with various secret arts like the Flying Swallow, Flower Chariot, Dragon’s Mane, Wave Striking, and Star Devourer. Gao Qiu was not only a master of that art but also a man who, in his days as a street idler (a jobless loafer), had devoted himself tirelessly to kickball gambling—so much so that people did not call him Gao Erlang but went by the nickname Gao Qiu. The so-called refined arts of courtly pastimes were a world apart from his rigorously honed skills.

Prince Duan and the onlookers—

“Ah! Magnificent.” “Divine skill! Divine skill!” That Prince Duan and the onlookers could do nothing but gasp in admiration was an all-too-natural inevitability. The kickball court had grown dim with dusk before anyone noticed. Before long came the hour when lamps glimmered faintly in the gallery corridors. Gao had once again been summoned before His Highness Prince Duan’s presence. Needless to say, Prince Duan showed delight at the presented stationery. Yet the conversation swiftly turned elsewhere.

Yet again, it was talk of kickball. And then, suddenly, he also spoke thus:

“Gao Qiu. From this day forth, become Our instructor day and night, and teach Us your exquisite techniques.” “You do me too great an honor. For someone of Your Highness’s stature, this lowly one is unworthy to be called teacher.” “And henceforth, you shall remain here in the Eastern Palace. You need not return to Prince Consort Wang’s residence.” “Ah, that would be most inconvenient. To me, he is my rightful lord. I cannot serve two masters.” “No—I have already sent a messenger to Prince Consort Wang’s presence earlier today, requesting his consent to transfer you into my household as a retainer. The Prince Consort is Our brother-in-law—in other words, we are family. Your loyalty is commendable, but this does not breach righteousness.”

“Then, as Your Highness commands.”

Gao Qiu adopted a demeanor trembling as if overcome with grateful tears. Thus he became a member of the Eastern Palace retinue, and as days passed, Prince Duan’s favor toward him grew ever deeper.

Gao Qiu—a man risen from dilettantism, inherently abundant in worldly cunning and versed in every manner of art—now attended upon the young, unworldly Crown Prince, who though a cultured prince remained naive. To put it plainly, this was akin to balancing his kickball upon his palm—a feat he had long mastered.

However.

This ball of fortune had yet to bring him how much more good fortune it would bestow upon his palm.

—And then, merely half a year later.

The reigning Emperor Zhezong had passed away. However, with no true Crown Prince present, after the civil and military officials repeatedly debated in court council, they finally decided to enthrone Prince Duan and revere him as Emperor.

Truly, the fortunes of men are unfathomable. This was the lord whom the world revered as the Jade Pure Sect Leader Subtle and Mysterious Dao Lord—the eighth emperor of the Song Dynasty, Emperor Huizong.

Emperor Huizong, whose conduct as a cultured prince had been evident since his Eastern Palace days, showed little interest in governance even after ascending the throne. However, in realms such as painting, music, architecture, and fashion, culture bloomed with twice the resplendence at this time. Emperor Huizong himself was a first-rate painter when he took up the brush, and the era's master artists were gathered at the Xuanhe Painting Academy in the palace.

Moreover, printing techniques advanced, the printing of books became widespread, and in the streets—though still in the cradle period of zaju theater—theatrical performances emerged; it may be said that the civil governance characteristic of the Song Dynasty reached its zenith around this time. However, within this civil governance, those of Wang Anshi’s faction advocating radical reforms and conservative courtiers entrenched in old laws ceaselessly clashed in council chambers, so that by Emperor Huizong’s reign, it already harbored within an extraordinary crisis of division and internal collapse. Yet despite all this, Emperor Huizong remained a cultured emperor.

He established Taoism as the state religion, became its sect leader himself, and worked to protect it. He collected rare specimens of wood, stone, birds, and beasts from across the realm, and in his palace construction projects, showed not the slightest regard for the people’s suffering. Naturally, harsh taxes, the rampant corruption of officials, and the wealth gap grew ever more severe, while the lamentations of the suffering people filled every corner of the land. The tides of fortune grew increasingly turbulent. The Jin (Manchu), having destroyed the Liao, soon swept through Taiyuan and Yanjing, until at last they pressed upon the capital of Kaifeng Biancheng, abducting even Emperor Huizong’s consorts, crown prince, and royal family as captives to the desolate wilds of northern Manchuria. And there, Emperor Huizong was forced into farming like a common prisoner, finally coming to end his tragic life as emperor.

The all-night west wind shook the broken door.

A desolate solitary hut; a single lamp’s faint glimmer.

Homeland—were I to turn my head, three thousand leagues away.

The moon severed the southern sky; no wild geese flew.

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

Ah, but wait—unintentionally, this had ventured a bit too far ahead in the tale.

The end of Emperor Huizong and the collapse of the Northern Song Dynasty were still a full twenty-five years later here in the narrative.

As Water Margin—also known as Northern Song Water Margin—was a tale depicting those embryonic stirrings within commoner society under Emperor Huizong’s reign, one needed only grasp, as prerequisite knowledge, where in its current the great river of the times had been flowing.

Now.

Let us return to the main story. With the accession of the new emperor, it went without saying that Gao Qiu too entered the imperial court and became an attendant to His Majesty. The kickball had finally ascended to the Ninth Heaven.

And as the Emperor’s favor grew ever thicker, nothing but glorious advancement awaited him until before many years had passed he even managed to become Commander of the Palace Guard (Dianshuaifu Dawei)—the general of the imperial guard.

Now, this had occurred not long after his appointment.

Gao Qiu, having inspected the military register of the Eighty Thousand Imperial Guard, summoned generals from each division and battalion to the Biancheng Grand Training Ground to conduct roll calls of banners, cavalry, and infantry—but on that day, he— “What’s this?” He suddenly reined in his steed during the inspection and, while surveying the faces of generals arrayed in gleaming iron armor, wore an expression of deep suspicion. “Military Secretary.” “Yes, sir!” “Strange. Read out that flower register (the roster of ranks) again.” “Yes, sir!” When one of the retainers took the register from the military official and proceeded to call out the generals’ surnames once more, there was one commander whose name appeared in the register but was nowhere to be seen.

“See here! There’s one name missing from the roll. Today’s military review has witnessed an unacceptable breach of protocol—utterly unbefitting such an occasion.” “I most humbly apologize.” “It is precisely because such laxity in military discipline has become apparent that the Emperor saw fit to entrust this weighty responsibility to none other than this Gao Qiu. Yet there exists a man whose name appears in the attendance register but fails to present himself at today’s cavalry muster—this defies all reason! Who is this offender?” “Wang Jin, Drill Master of the Imperial Forest Army.” “For one holding the position of troops’ instructor, this negligence becomes doubly inexcusable. Arrest that man at once!”

“But Drill Master Wang is by no means negligent in his daily duties. It appears he has been ill for several days now.”

“Shut up! Would a military commander entrusted with such responsibility miss a single crucial day over some trifling illness? If this were a real deployment, what would you do? No doubt he disapproves of this Gao Qiu’s appointment or he’s disregarding military orders—go at once! The timing is opportune; there’s also the pressing need to enforce military discipline.” Gao Qiu delivered this vehement command and spurred his horse onward. And immediately gathering his aides and accompanying officers on horseback, 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. From his father Wang Sheng’s generation, they had served in the capital garrison, instructing soldiers in martial arts; their home lay in a corner on the city’s outskirts where he lived uneventfully with only his mother.

But on that day, to his room where he lay ill, “Present yourself immediately!”

Gao Qiu's strict command was conveyed. The soldiers who had come to escort him were all his regular disciples. Were they to refuse, their own positions would become untenable. Wang Jin emerged from his sickbed and readied himself. "Mother, please don't trouble yourself with worry." "Now that I'm up like this, it's really not so bad. The new Commander of the Imperial Guard's anger is entirely warranted." "I'll make proper apologies and return straightaway."

Surrounded by soldiers, her son departed; his elderly mother stepped outside the gate with a worried expression to watch him go. At the Imperial Guard headquarters, the military review had concluded—celebratory wine for General Gao Xin’s inauguration was bestowed thereafter—and both camp gates and barracks buzzed with activity. “I most humbly apologize.”

Wang Jin prostrated himself before Gao Qiu and offered this apology. “On this most significant day, I resolved to push through my ailing body and attend my duties. Yet my mother’s excessive worry—being but a lone parent—left me no choice but to succumb to a parent’s love and neglect my participation.” “I humbly submit myself to whatever punishment you deem appropriate.”

“It goes without saying,” declared Gao Qiu. “Since this Gao Qiu now oversees the Imperial Guard, I will absolutely not tolerate yesterday’s laxity in military discipline. First and foremost, I shall root out sham warriors like you who disrupt military discipline!” Wang Jin met his gaze. “Ah—to call me a sham warrior—that’s quite an overstatement, don’t you think? And as for disrupting military discipline—on what grounds do you make such an accusation?”

“Shut up! If summoned, you’re clearly well enough to come walking here—what else could that be but proof of your feigned illness? Moreover, in this military court you dare prepare excuses about your mother’s tears? Do you think this Gao Qiu doesn’t know full well what your father truly was?” “Is this reckless slander what brands me a sham warrior?” “Oh ho! Your father Wang Sheng may have later become an instructor for the Imperial Gate Guards with his staff techniques, but wasn’t he once a roadside quack selling medicine while performing stick tricks for gawkers? Back then you were just a brat counting coppers beside him! […] Look up when I address you, Wang Jin! You’ve forgotten your roots and grown arrogant!”

“…………” “Ha ha ha ha! “Your speechless state is utterly absurd!” “Hear me, staff officers! As a lesson to everyone present, string this wretch up and behead him at once!” Before the raging Gao Qiu, the people shielded Wang Jin, variously attempting to placate him and offer apologies.

“Now, please wait,” they entreated. “On this most auspicious occasion, would it not be ill-omened to witness an execution?” “Let punishment remain punishment—it would suffice to pass severe judgment at a later date,” another urged. “For today alone, we humbly beg your leniency.” “Moreover,” a third added, “the entire courtyard brims with soldiers drunkenly singing in celebration of your inauguration at this very moment.”

“Hmm.” “There is some merit to that...” Gao Qiu let out a slight groan. This was his own celebration. On his inauguration day, it seemed he truly did not wish 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 residence had become a prison "until the day of judgment."

Ink-black midnight. Wang Jin stealthily crawled out of his room and shook his mother’s pillow to wake her. “...Mother, please rouse yourself for a moment.” “Oh, my son. It seems you too are unable to sleep each night.” “Not at all. Wang Jin has always been an easygoing soul. Never would Wang Jin be disheartened by such trifles. But since I can sense Mother’s worries—”

“I am fine. Rather than concerning yourself with me, please focus on finding a way to save yourself.” “But that’s just the problem. No matter how I look at it, it seems Gao Qiu will have me executed this time.” “If you die, I won’t live either. But many disciples will surely plead for your life, and besides, it’s not as though you’ve committed any crime worthy of death.”

“No, no. Under normal circumstances, one might say that. But this is dire straits. There’s one thing that struck my chest like a heavy blow.” “Y-you… you weren’t plotting some rebellion against the army or anything like that, were you?” “Don’t be absurd! It’s nothing like that. In truth, I had been wondering what sort of man the new Imperial Guard General Gao Qiu was—when lo and behold, he himself brought up my father Wang Sheng. Hmm… Though he’s a man of the court, it’s suspicious that he knows of my father Wang Sheng’s destitute days in the streets… This unworthy one stared intently at his face.”

“What?! He knew about your father’s past?!” “He must know.” “This unworthy one was still a child at the time, but in the capital of Kaifeng, there lived a notorious libertine.” “That man was a master of kickball, a rogue entertainer known by the name Gao Qiu.” “Can you believe it, Mother? That man was none other than Gao Qiu—the new general of the Imperial Forest’s Eight Hundred Thousand Army today.”

“Oh! Such a rogue?!”

“It’s done for—This unworthy one resigned himself in that moment. You see, when that rogue Gao Qiu was exiled from four prefectures and received a hundred lashes before the townsfolk at the city gate, my father Wang Sheng—already in official service by then—had supervised the flogging alongside the executioners. According to town rumors, Gao Qiu had harbored deep resentment toward Father for how he handled matters back then, and was said to have spat out a parting threat—‘I’ll have my revenge someday!’ That was over a dozen years ago now... but when that memory abruptly flashed through my chest—Ah, this is bad—I instantly felt as though I could see my own death.”

“My son, what are we to do? I too have some memory of hearing this long ago from my late husband.” “Ah now—please don’t panic. Fortunately, having been temporarily allowed to return home and seeing your face, Mother, this unworthy one regained his resolve—‘I cannot simply die here!’—and devised a plan. Now, 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 all around the mansion, and if you become wanted by the entire realm—”

“The guard captains—Zhang and Li—are this unworthy one’s longtime disciples. If we tell them that Mother and I are going to Mitake Shrine in the suburbs to pray for reduced sentencing and will return before dawn breaks, they’ll surely pretend not to see us.”

Even for a prudent mother like her, there remained no choice but to gamble. Without wearing anything conspicuous, she slipped out through the rear gate upon her son’s back. The guard captains Li and Zhang feigned ignorance and let them pass. Wang Jin raced through midnight’s depths toward Xihua Gate. Here too waited one of his disciples. Having fabricated a reason to pass through, he borrowed a horse, helped his mother mount it, then climbed onto the saddle’s rear himself.

“Ah, it went smoothly.” “Mother, it’s all right now.” “No pursuers are in sight yet.” “But where are you heading now?”

“Let us proceed to Yan’an Prefecture (Shaanxi Province).” “What? To Yan’an in Shaanxi?” “That’s right. At the border fortress there, a man called Old Zhong serves as Jinglue—a title for the city’s military governor—overseeing frontier defense. Among his subordinates are many whom this unworthy one taught staff spearmanship in the capital. Moreover, Zhong and I are on such terms that we frequently correspond.” “It must be terribly far… Yan’an’s sky—” “West of the Yellow River, north of Chang’an’s ancient capital—after all, the journey will be no easy thing. Please endure this hardship.”

“Oh—whatever hardships may come—if it’s just my child and me together—there’s nothing we cannot endure.” “This Wang Jin too feels that holding you, Mother, gives him the strength of a hundred men.”

The fugitive journey continued like being driven before the wind—lying low in fields, hiding in mountains—each day piling upon the last.

While the post roads were still not far from the capital, it was heard that Gao Qiu’s fury had been issued as official decrees, relentlessly urging provincial governors across all circuits and provinces to apprehend the criminal Wang Jin. However, in time, the boundless wild roads and mountain paths of the continent carried the traveling mother and son so far that even the anxieties behind them grew too distant to recall.

“Well, the day has grown dark—what is this village called here?” Wang Jin soothed his plodding, weary horse and searched here and there for lodging. “It seems there are no inns, Mother.” “Beyond that willow grove, I can see a gate surrounded by earthen walls. Shall we try asking there for lodging?” “It appears to be the village’s great landowner’s residence.” “It’s no trouble at all.” “Please leave it to me.”

Entrusting his mother’s horse to a lone willow tree, Wang Jin entered the gate and requested lodging for the night. “Oh… What a grand manor.”

It appeared to be a venerable old family of considerable standing.

On the hill behind, a thatched cottage-like structure could be seen; the path wound through willows and disappeared; a mountain stream cascaded down, filling the manor’s garden with a mirror of emerald stillness. Facing the water stood a row of pavilions from the main residence, while against the mountain leaned the master’s library tower, its windows thrown open to reveal a fresh glimmer of newly lit lamps. The attendant boy who had gone to relay the message remained deep within the inner quarters, not returning for quite some time. In the distance, the lowing of many cows could be heard; smoke billowed vigorously from the kitchens and servants’ quarters, and what seemed like hundreds of hired hands clamored noisily. It had the air of what one might call a place where even the servants’ poultry and dogs were sated with food, where the wealthy household lacked nothing for its descendants, and where the library housed ten thousand volumes of books.

“Ah… Travelers.” “My apologies for keeping you waiting.” “Right this way.”

At the sight of the emerging young servant.

“Ah! You’re offering us lodging?” “Yes. When I informed the master that you were travelers with an elderly mother who had lost your way at day’s end, he said it must be quite a predicament.” “I am most grateful. Then I shall gratefully accept your kind offer.”

Wang Jin ran outside and immediately led his mother in by the hand. The servant boy kindly: “Please leave the horse as it is—I’ll take care of feeding it.” All members of the household were as warm-hearted as that servant boy.

After finishing bathing and meals, Wang Jin met the manor lord Taigong. He wore a folded hood, his white beard hanging down to his knees, a garment resembling a Taoist robe, and soft-looking leather boots. “I hear you’re a merchant bound for Yan’an, but traveling with your elderly mother must be quite a hardship.” “No—in the capital, I have lost all my capital.”

“Hahaha.” “You’re fretting over lacking lodging money, aren’t you?” “If that trifle worries you, I wouldn’t be housing you at all.” “This imposition shames me deeply, but traveling with an elder makes rough sleeping nigh impossible.”

“No need for formalities.” “The house is spacious.” “Let your elderly mother stretch out her limbs at ease tonight.”

They spent some time in casual conversation. However, as Wang Jin eventually withdrew, Manor Lord Taigong watched his retreating form intently from under his snow-white eyebrows.

The next morning—Manor Lord Taigong brewed his favorite tea and waited for Wang Jin. Yet when Wang Jin still did not emerge, he went to check the chamber himself—only to find Wang Jin’s mother, who had suffered a flare-up of her chronic illness since midnight and was still stifling groans while nursing her son this morning. “Well now, you should have told me sooner.”

Taigong immediately had the medicine bag fetched and personally prepared the decoction. Not only that, but he also told them to recuperate here for as many days as needed— “I shall never forget your kindness.”

About seven days had passed. His mother’s chronic illness had subsided, and her complexion had improved. And so, intending to depart early this morning, Wang Jin went to check on his horse in the stable.

And then—amidst the lingering dawn mist, dewdrops glinting green, and a willow grove so verdant it seemed to stain one’s lungs—there came vigorous shouts of “Hyaah!” and “Ooh!” from someone unleashing spirited battle cries.

Wang Jin was suddenly struck by a sound and turned around. There in the blue mist he glimpsed a figure—a strapping youth with an alabaster-hued, powerfully built frame that epitomized robust masculinity. The young man appeared eighteen or nineteen years of age. Without question, he was a paragon of muscular perfection—a veritable Adonis carved from flesh. Bare to the waist, his exposed skin glistened with rivulets of sweat that somehow enhanced rather than diminished his beauty. What truly made Wang Jin's eyes widen, however, was the intricate tattoo spanning that snow-white torso. Nine dragons shimmered through the perspiration, their sinuous forms appearing ready to leap from his very skin. In the youth's hands whirled a long oak staff that hummed through the air as it traced circular patterns around his body—a spinning wheel of destruction orbiting its master.

"Hmm... So he’s practicing staff techniques." Since this was his own domain of mastery, Wang Jin found himself smiling with modest recognition at the sight.

Then, seeming to have noticed, the young man abruptly halted his staff practice. "Hey! What're you laughing at while watching my technique?" "I'm not mocking you," he replied. "I was simply admiring your skill—that's all I was doing..."

“What? You’re saying I’m pretty good, huh? You’re pretty damn cocky with that mouth of yours!” “Now, now—no need for anger. At your age, such fire is only natural. Why not let me observe a while longer?” “Cut the crap. My staff techniques ain’t some show. Since you’re talking so big, you must have some skill. I’ll beat you down—come on, defend yourself! Fail to block it, and you’re dead.” “This is most inconvenient. If I’ve offended you, I humbly apologize.”

“No way, no way. I ain’t calming down till I smash either that smug face of yours or a couple of your ribs!”

Just then, the voice of Manor Lord Taigong rang out.

“Now, Shi Jin! What are you doing to our guest?” “Ah. Father?” “Hold your tongue!” Manor Lord Taigong scolded his son—then turned to address their guest: “My son has committed such outrageous rudeness… but as you see, he’s country-bred—please do find it in your heart to forgive him.” “No, Master—I was also at fault. When I saw the young man so single-mindedly honing his focus, I couldn’t help but smirk—” “This must be some kind of fate ordained by heaven. Would you be so kind as to teach this son of mine a staff technique as a parting gift?”

“You honor me too much. I am but a lowly, down-and-out merchant—staff techniques are...”

“No, no—to these eyes of mine, there appears to be some singular art within your very body.” “Enough already, Father.” “You’re overpraising—” The youth called Shi Jin, right before his father, suddenly shoved Wang Jin in the chest and barked. “The old man just spouted nonsense, but I ain’t begging some vagrant crow like you for lessons—wouldn’t so much as hint you’ve got any special skill.” “So—you got grit in those bones? Or are you just a swindler? I’ll test you—come on, take this!”

He sprang back to ready his stance. Suddenly his staff became one with his right hand and came whistling down toward the base of Wang Jin’s neck. How he managed it was unclear, but Wang Jin firmly clamped the end of his staff beneath his left arm. “Master,” he said, looking at Manor Lord Taigong with a smile. “May I proceed?”

With that, he looked at Manor Lord Taigong and laughed.

“By all means.” “Discipline him thoroughly, if you would.” “Like a bat lording over a birdless village—he thinks none surpass him—this utterly unmanageable whelp.” “If you’d just break that swollen pride of his nose, why, it’d be a mercy to the boy himself.” “Understood.” “Since it’s his father’s own request...”

Upon hearing this, Shi Jin—

“What the—?!”

With that, the nine dragons across his entire body flushed with a color as though suddenly infused with blood. But his martial skills were country-forged techniques through and through. Needless to say, whatever vigor coursed through this youth's physique and fiery spirit, to Wang Jin's eyes they amounted to mere child's play. A swing and parry, strikes and thrusts too swift for sight—all coalesced into a magnificent yet futile display of physical prowess. Shi Jin's voice rasped raw, his body spent to the brink of retching up his very guts. Still he refused to yield—but in that split-second lapse of focus—the boundless sky wheeled above his own upturned legs. With a resonant thud, he found himself hurled flat upon his back.

“D-damn it!” The moment he tried to rise, he was thrown down again, and the staff—already no longer in his grasp—shifted into Wang Jin’s hands. And at the tip of that staff, the skin of the Nine Dragons—like a spider toyed with by a bamboo broom—was separated then pressed down, attempting escape only to become entangled, until at last it lay limp and lifeless as though dead. “Would someone please bring water for the young master?” As he spoke, Wang Jin approached Shi Jin’s side and cradled his body against his knee. While looking up at Manor Lord Taigong, he assumed a pitiful expression.

“...I may have gotten somewhat carried away in chastising him.” “However, he’s sustained no injuries—you needn’t worry.” “Not in the least.” “For my son, this was most salutary medicine, I assure you.”

Even so, it must have been parental love after all. Manor Lord Taigong, without realizing it, used the sleeve of his Taoist robe to gently wipe away the cold sweat that had beaded on his brow. And then,

“Honored guest,” “There is something I wish to discuss with you thoroughly once more.” “I have had tea prepared and await you in my chambers.” “I do apologize for the imposition, but would you be so kind as to come later on, bringing my son along?”

With that, dragging his cane, he departed toward the distant study tower like a figure from a painting.

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

This mountain village lay on the border of Huayin County and was called Shi Family Village. All three to four hundred households bore the surname Shi. Manor Lord Taigong had served as the village headman for generations through his ancestors, but he himself was now advanced in years. He thought to pass the succession to his son Shi Jin at the earliest opportunity and retire. Thereupon, that day, he voiced this hope to his guest Military Instructor Wang Jin: —Though Wang Jin and his mother were but passing travelers, might they not consider settling permanently in the village to serve as enduring mentors for his son Shi Jin? Such was the nature of his proposal.

“Well... “I am truly grateful for your gracious offer, but...”

Wang Jin was at a loss for an answer. “Now, to be honest, this unworthy one is no mere traveling merchant.” “Until recently, this unworthy one served as instructor to the Eight Hundred Thousand Strong Imperial Guard. But having had irreconcilable differences with the newly appointed Grand General Gao Qiu, I fled the capital without authorization—in short, I am now a wanted man across the realm. [...] Though your kindness is most gracious, were I to remain here, there is no guarantee calamity would not strike your esteemed household.” “Therefore, though Your Lordship commands it, I find myself unable to accept this proposal.”

“What honored guest? These are the eyes of an old man who’s seen countless souls in his time. I’d long since sensed you were no common wanderer. Not a whit surprised, I tell you. This plea springs solely from my wholehearted admiration for your noble bearing. I implore you to grant this request.” As the aged father entreated him, Shi Jin—standing nearby and now perhaps fully awakened to the self-deluded crudeness of his staff skills—joined in restraining Wang Jin with beseeching eyes.

“Very well—if you insist so strongly.”

And so, at last yielding to the father and son’s earnest entreaties, Wang Jin postponed his planned departure that day and formally forged a master-disciple pact with them there. “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 have nine dragon tattoos on my back, people call me by the nickname ‘Nine-Tattooed Dragon Shi Jin’.” “From whom did you learn staff technique?” “When I was a boy, there was a ronin named Li Zhong the Tiger-Subduing General among our household’s retainers—a live-in guest.” “What started as half-hearted practice became an obsession. After that, whenever I saw traveling martial artists or ronin pass through the village, I challenged every last one of them to matches—but I never lost even once.” “Yet somehow today of all days...”

“Ha ha ha ha! Things didn’t go quite as you expected, did they? Well, it’s fine. At nineteen or twenty years of age, you’re fortunate—if you return to your original intent, you can still be reshaped however needed.”

Thus did Military Instructor Wang Jin and his mother settle permanently in Shi Family Village. And for Shi Family’s heir alone—the Nine-Tattooed Dragon—Wang Jin, former instructor of the Eight Hundred Thousand Strong Imperial Guard, took him by the hand daily to impart secret techniques spanning all Eighteen Martial Arts.

The Eighteen Martial Arts refer to: First: bow; second: crossbow; third: spear; fourth: sword; fifth: straightsword; sixth: hooked halberd; seventh: shield; eighth: axe; ninth: broadaxe; tenth: ji halberd; eleventh: iron whip; twelfth: command tally; thirteenth: staff; fourteenth: chain-sickle; fifteenth: clawed rake; sixteenth: barbed fork; seventeenth: capture rope; eighteenth: unarmed combat. From that day forth, there was never a day when the cries of “Hiyah!” and “Haaah!” from the Dragon Boy—desperately receiving instruction—and his instructor could not be heard in the willow garden behind the Shi Family estate. On rainy days, [the training] was conducted on the manor’s broad veranda; when night fell, there would be the sound of military texts being lectured upon across the lamplight.

The young Shi Jin made remarkable progress and, more than anything, was deeply influenced by Instructor Wang’s character. No—even in Instructor Wang’s casual tales of the capital and fragments of idle chatter, the mountain-bred youth—who had developed an extraordinary interest—had at last come to recognize the lowly station of his upbringing. And naturally, that youth of his began to throb with restless yearning toward the vast, expansive world.

Before they knew it, over a year had flowed by in this place.

Wang Jin, around this time, thought deeply.

"This won't do... The Nine-Tattooed Dragon was a rare genius who had thoroughly mastered even the secret depths of my Eighteen Martial Arts, but his father Taigong’s wish was surely to have Shi Jin succeed him as village headman and secure peace of mind for his old age as soon as possible. Half-hearted—if he awakens to worldly desires and comes to despise his ancestral duties as village headman and the work of farming, then the path I have instilled in him would instead become a curse upon the Shi family."

Having reached this conclusion, one day,

“I have imposed upon your kindness for far too long,” he abruptly declared, citing personal circumstances as he announced his departure to Manor Lord Taigong. “My mother says that while her legs and hips remain sturdy, she earnestly wishes to realize her long-held aspiration of settling in Yan’an Prefecture.” “To your son I have already transmitted every last technique of this unworthy one’s martial arts.” “……May your household continue to prosper henceforth.”

When Wang Jin suddenly announced his departure, Manor Lord Taigong was shocked, and his son Shi Jin grieved. Yet when they realized how futile it would be to detain him any longer, they prepared a farewell banquet laden with silver ingots and parting gifts for Wang Jin and his mother, and on the day of his departure, they had him escorted with horses and attendants all the way to the neighboring county along Guanxi Road, seeing him off with utmost care.

——But after that.

Left behind, Shi Jin fell dazedly into prostration. Unbearable desolation drove him to drown himself in wine day after day. No—an even greater emptiness assailed his entire being.

That autumn, his father Taigong suddenly died of illness. Perhaps spurred by this, his indulgence began to take on a self-destructive aspect. He had always maintained that farming did not suit his nature. He no longer paid even the slightest heed to household affairs. At his manor, he gathered only rogues who were anything but peasants, boasting of martial prowess and doing nothing but seeking opportunities for fights near and far. Thus, when one spoke of Shi Jin, the Nine-Tattooed Dragon of Shijia Village, his name had by this time become one that would silence even a crying child.

The shadow of undulating mountains could be glimpsed in the distance, but from human settlements, it lay in a far-off realm whose precise whereabouts remained unclear. Here, amidst the mountains upon mountains in the depths of Huayin County, there exists a peak called Shao Hua Mountain.

The world belongs to humans, and those humans are living beings. If one were to approach, as if taking pride in there being nothing strange about us building our stronghold here and living this way, there was indeed bustling human activity and voices on the slopes of that Shao Hua Mountain.

“Hey, Yang Chun.” “Things haven’t been worth a damn lately.” “...Is Chen Da still holed up asleep in the cavern?” “Seems so.” “From what I hear, the bastard went down to Pucheng County about three days ago, sniffing around like a wolf for some decent work, but came crawling back empty-handed late last night.” “Truly, even the lowlands seem to be in a famine year.” “That ain’t it.” “Wasn’t the world such that up until this very spring, even us six or seven hundred in the mountain stronghold could live like kings off the lowlands’ tribute?” “But now here we are—suddenly even the wine and meat’ve dried up just like that. Don’t make a lick o’ sense.”

“Chen Da’s been grumbling too, but no matter how you look at it, this mess has gotta be ’cause them bastards down in Huayin County went and issued that damn proclamation.” “Apparently, they’ve put a three thousand strings of cash bounty on the heads of us three leaders—posted notices all over the highways, banned travelers from walking at night, and even encouraged the locals to form their own militia patrols.” “Making fools of us, them bastards.” “If that money’s sittin’ in the government office, they might as well just send the whole lot over here as it is.” “If we’d just stayed holed up in these mountains for half a year or so, we could’ve kept our heads down nice and quiet for ya. Hahaha!”

Though summer, the mountain lay cold beneath unceasing mist.

Inside the massive stronghold’s palisade gate, encampments of bizarre men and smoldering bonfires dotted here and there. Among them, with the stone steps of the rock gate and a grand cavernous hall behind them, there was one cluster of men exchanging drinks. This was the ring formed by the leaders of Shao Hua Mountain’s seven hundred bandits—Zhu Wu, the Divine Strategist; Yang Chun, the White-Spotted Snake; and their ilk. Then, from the mouth of the cavern, yet another figure— “If I thought this was some kind of council meeting, turns out you’re just drinking so artlessly again?”

A figure descended the stone steps with a great stretch and lumbering movements. It was none other than Chen Da, the Leaping Tiger of the Ravine—the very man they had just been discussing. Needless to say, he too was one of the three leaders.

“Oh, Chen Da. “To be called artless… Well, that’s a blow to one’s pride.” “But even you—who left the stronghold unattended for three whole days—didn’t bring back any spoils either, did ya?” “Not a chance.” “But I do have a little something worth hearing.” “What’s this? Something worth hearing?”

“But on my way back, I caught this rabbit hunter named Li Ji and got some interesting news.” “Hahahaha! Poor thing—you caught some rabbit skinner and went ahead and skinned him too?” “Don’t be daft! 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 mark I’ve set my sights on ain’t some stingy nobody.”

“Hmm.” “Using that hunter Li Ji as your guide—where exactly are you aiming to carry out this raid?” “The great manor at Shijia Village.” “That old estate’s rumored to hold more riches than its weathered walls suggest.”

“Brothers,” “That’s no good.” “When it comes to Shijia Village—that’s forbidden ground for us.” “Why?” “The village head there—that’s the Nine-Tattooed Dragon’s household.” “That’s madness.” “How could we possibly challenge him?” “And you know full well the county office’s put three thousand strings on our heads—no way you ain’t bracin’ yourself for them hunters comin’ after us.”

“But accordin’ to Li Ji—sure, that Nine-Tattooed Dragon’s got himself a reputation for bein’ unmatched across four counties, but when you boil it down, he’s still just some young master from an old-money family.” “You let him beat you just once, he’ll treat you like royalty—put you up for days on end, keep your cup filled, even hand out farewell gifts. Makes that manor ripe pickings for us drifters.” “Li Ji reckons his real skill’s probably just fancy parlor tricks any rich boy could manage.” “That rabbit-skinner ain’t no trustworthy source.” “Li Ji never crossed blades with him proper-like.”

“Nuh-uh—even if we set that aside, this Chen Da’s got confidence.” “Back in my hometown of Ye City, they called me the Leaping Tiger of the Ravine for my long spear.” “I can’t stomach folks sayin’ the three of us leaders of Shao Hua Mountain are cowerin’ before some twenty-year-old sprout.” “And it’s a damn wealthy manor we’re talkin’ about!” “How’m I s’posed to just sit here suckin’ my thumb?” Chen Da kept up his bragging without pause. The more Zhu Wu and Yang Chun tried to talk him down, the more pigheaded he became,

“Fine then! Even alone—I’ll show you what I can do! You brothers might as well keep drinkin’ your fill!”

With that, he immediately dispatched scouts from his force of about two hundred men and set about arming himself as if heading into battle. Looking at his attire—a bowl helmet adorned with scarlet tassels, armor of riveted gilt metal, beneath which antique yet shimmering Shu River-style sleeves peeked out, and half-moon-shaped leather boots. With a braided silk sash at his waist, a broad-bladed greatsword laid across it, and his figure majestically perched atop a white steed accustomed to mountain paths—here indeed stood a bandit commander of Shao Hua Mountain, every bit as formidable as his own boasts proclaimed.

Gripping the long spear in his hands, he swung it once sideways and pointed its tip toward the western foothills, “Now then—let’s descend the mountain before night falls.” “Those who think themselves men—follow me!” Nearly two hundred subordinates sounded gongs and drums, and at the palisade gate let out a roaring cheer to boost their morale. In an instant, they formed a column like a black serpent and descended toward the foothills.

"That’s damn reckless." "Lately, Chen Da’s been actin’ a bit impatient, I tell ya." "He’s the eldest among us three." "He reckons himself the chief of chiefs—seein’ the stronghold fall to ruin like this, can’t imagine he’d just sit idle." "Well damn—if that’s how it stands, he’s a foe we’d rather not face, body nor soul. But we two can’t just sit on our hands here." Zhu Wu had been born in Dingyuan Prefecture. Though he often fought with dual swords, he himself maintained his true mastery lay in military strategy and tactics.

Yang Chun, the White Flower Snake, was a native of Jieliang in Puzhou Prefecture and a master of the great pole-blade. His waist was slender and his arms long—a pale-complexioned man with an aura of coldness who gave the impression of a serpent worthy of his epithet.

Both Chen Da before and these two now—they were all likely once wandering scholars or law-abiding citizens of the rivers and lakes. However, under the Song Dynasty’s governance and Emperor Huizong’s extravagance—which had finally spread their disorder and corruption to every crossroads of society—they all surely deemed it foolish to cling to honest livelihoods; indulging in wild freedom, they established their dens in places like this Shao Hua Mountain as part of the Greenwood (bandits).

After a moment, this second leader also descended toward Shijia Village with a great many subordinates in tow. As they pressed onward, the night grew deeper, until at last a dim red firelight became visible beneath the black shroud of night fog. There was no mistaking the direction—it was Shijia Village. Yang Chun halted his horse and called out to Zhu Wu’s shadow behind him.

“He’s done it.” “Look at that fire.” Chen Da had already ridden up to the Nine-Tattooed Dragon’s household. “We can’t abandon Brother in his plight.” “Let’s hurry!”

However, before they had even reached the foothills, Chen Da’s lieutenants and underlings came fleeing back in utter disarray. "What happened?" they demanded. The village had been prepared—at the signal of alarm boards and gongs, tenant farmers and village youths had swiftly gathered at the Nine-Tattooed Dragon’s estate like well-trained soldiers, fortifying its defenses in moments. However, the bandits under Chen Da’s command—sneering "What do these peasants think they’re doing?"—made their horses charge toward the gate while sounding intimidating rapid gongs and cymbals. Yet the opponents proved formidable. Under a storm of arrows and hurled firebrands, it soon erupted into a massive melee. Before long, Nine-Tattooed Dragon himself sallied forth. And when he engaged their ally Chen Da in single combat—just as one might expect them to clash with fiery intensity—Chen Da’s long spear was abruptly knocked aside, leaving him effortlessly captured by Nine-Tattooed Dragon.

“Hmm.” “I had sensed his strength, but is Nine-Tattooed Dragon truly that formidable?” “It ain’t even worth talkin’ about.”

The subordinates said, utterly devoid of fighting spirit. Yet Zhu Wu and Yang Chun couldn’t possibly just turn tail and flee from this place. Otherwise, the trust of the seven hundred subordinates in the mountain stronghold would plummet to the ground. Yet, from the very start, they had possessed no such arrogant confidence to confront Nine-Tattooed Dragon Shi Jin. Yang Chun’s pale face turned even whiter. “What do we do? Brother.” “There’s no way around this now. Leave it to me.”

Had a spark of Zhu Wu’s signature cunning flashed through his mind? Zhu Wu immediately ordered all his subordinates to halt and approached Shijia Village’s interior with only Yang Chun by his side. The village soldiers they swiftly encountered surrounded them and roughly dragged them through the gate—where within the estate’s expansive willow garden, bonfires blazed at intervals around a central tree that bound the captured Chen Da, who now served as macabre entertainment for their raucous feast in full swing.

“What? Zhu Wu and Yang Chun—the two leaders—have come here of their own will seeking to be bound?” He frowned. "That seems downright fishy."

Shi Jin sat perched on a ceramic sake barrel. He wore scaled leather armor lacquered in vermilion and adorned with pressed gold leaf, a blue brocade battle coat, and tall yellow boots. At his side stood a single bow, while from his waist hung an eight-ringed blade with double-edged, triple-pointed steel—whether from battle-sweat long absent or wine’s flush, his brow radiated unmistakable exhilaration. “Right,” he barked. “Drag those two here regardless. They’re likely impostors,” he mused, “but hearing what lies they’ll spin might prove diverting. Stoke the bonfires brighter and haul them before me!”

Even before laying eyes on Zhu Wu and Yang Chun, he had been thoroughly suspicious of them. If they were genuine, he had intended to take advantage of this fortunate opportunity to behead the third leader in one stroke and make him the accompaniment for another round of wine. 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 infused his every word with heartfelt sorrow. “Please bind us two as well, together with our brother Chen Da, and deliver us to the county magistrate’s office. They say there’s a bounty of three thousand strings of cash on the heads of us three. If you would distribute that money to the impoverished people of nearby villages, it would fulfill our true wish. Originally, the three of us—Chen, Yang, and Zhu—swore that even as bandits, we would be righteous ones, bound by a blood oath to remain as sworn brothers united even in death. Now that Brother Chen Da has been captured, we two remaining cannot go on living. Even if we were to try resisting again, we could never match you. Now, we submit ourselves to your judgment.”

Shi Jin's pure-hearted nature seemed thoroughly moved by this. He marveled that even bandits could harbor such righteousness, and found himself greatly approving of their stance as allies to the poor. Being the big-hearted man he was, Shi Jin likely took no small satisfaction in displaying this magnanimity before the assembled villagers. "Untie Chen Da's bonds at once." "And serve these three cups too." Shi Jin instantly strode with grand bearing toward the speechless trio.

“I’ve heard that even thieves have a grain of reason, and that comrades hold fast to duty—but your devotion to righteousness is truly admirable.” “Rest easy.” “I’ve always hated the idea of being some corrupt official’s pawn since the day I was born.” “I don’t even want to lay a hand on bounty money.” “Now drink up, and while it’s still light out, make yourselves scarce—back to Shao Hua Mountain or wherever else you please!” “But if I hear you’re oppressing peasants in these three counties, who knows when the Nine-Tattooed Dragon might come to claim your heads.”

The three crawled on the ground and prostrated themselves a hundred times before Nine-Tattooed Dragon. In the end, they drank both sake and tears together. It was as though grateful animals had been released from human hands. At length, looking back again and again, they departed from Shijia Village while dawn was still breaking, returning to their original Shao Hua Mountain.

Shi Jin abandoned his hometown and fled to Weishui—where he would meet Commander Lu Zhishen in town.

Even among their comrades, they knew the proverb: “A tiger does not eat prey that has prostrated itself.” “That’s the measure of Nine-Tattooed Dragon’s magnanimity,” and from then on, Yang Chun, Chen Da, and Zhu Wu were utterly won over by Shi Jin. On Shi Jin’s part, such things had long since been forgotten. Then one evening, a bandit subordinate carrying a bundle of gifts stealthily arrived at Shi Jin’s estate, “It’s hardly enough to repay your kindness, but please accept this humble offering from us.” “Oh, I nearly forgot—the three leaders also send their utmost regards.”

With that, he left it behind as if discarding it and departed. When they opened it later, inside were animal pelts, various mountain goods, and even gold ingots worth about thirty taels. Shi Jin laughed.

“Somehow, this doesn’t feel right to receive.” He frowned at the gifts piled before him. _But from those guys’ perspective,_ _it must be their utmost goodwill._ _Ah, whatever._ _As for this gold—I will put it to good use for them when the right occasion comes._ “Take it! Take it!” he barked at his servants.

However, even after that, gifts continued to arrive intermittently from the mountain without fail. At times, they even sent magnificent jewels. Shi Jin, thinking it improper to keep receiving without reciprocation, had three crimson brocade robes—woven from fabric passed down through his family—tailored, placed succulent roast lamb into a large lacquered box, and dispatched these to the mountain stronghold as thanks for their regular kindnesses.

Among the Shi family’s servant leaders was a man named Wang Si. He assigned this man as messenger along with one laborer. When the two reached the foot of the mountain, they were captured by the bandits’ lookout. However, “We’re here on Master Nine-Tattooed Dragon’s errand.”

Upon hearing this, they took the lead and guided them to the mountain stronghold. Moreover, Zhu Wu and his two fellow leaders showed their appreciation for Wang Si’s efforts without treating him condescendingly. They brought out wine and fine dishes, “Not a single day has passed where we’ve forgotten Master Shi Jin’s great kindness.”

They said such things. And upon their departure, they gave the two messengers ten taels of silver. Shi Jin, having heard Wang Si’s report,

“They were that delighted?” “So they were talking about me that much too?” And he didn’t find this disagreeable either. Thus, as his interactions with them deepened, Shi Jin no longer harbored any notion that they were bandits. He had simply come to regard it as a bond between men.

In time, when autumn had reached its midpoint, Shi Jin conceived the idea of hosting a moon-viewing banquet. He thought of opening a jug of wine under the renowned moon of Mid-Autumn and drinking and conversing to his heart’s content with those three—Zhu Wu, Yang Chun, and Chen Da. So once again, he had the usual Wang Si carry the invitation and sent him to Shao Hua Mountain. Needless to say, Zhu Wu and his men were delighted. “We will most certainly come.” They drafted a reply, added four or five taels as a messenger’s fee to it, and handed it to Wang Si. On top of that, they made him drink over ten bowls of sake before sending him back, so Wang Si became thoroughly pleased.

Swaying unsteadily down the mountain path with drunken steps, he encountered a bandit subordinate he knew by sight. “Hey... Boss,” Wang Si slurred as he slung his arm around the man—who was equally intoxicated— “Well if it isn’t Master Wang,” the man replied, scratching his bearded face. What followed wasn’t the refined Fisherman and Woodcutter Dialogue, but a thoroughly slurred exchange. With their heads lolling together and four legs entangled between them, they stumbled once more into the tavern at the mountain’s foot. They must have drunk themselves senseless.

That night, after parting with the man, Wang Si ended up sleeping in a field of silvergrass along the way. If matters had ended there, that single nap would have been pure paradise. 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 previously guided Chen Da to attack Shi Jin. In that matter, his plans had gone awry, and since then he had been scorned by the villagers—but Li Ji was a man who had always been more cunning than a fox. Right at that very moment, the instant he tripped,

“Well, well—if it isn’t Wang Si from Shi Jin’s household.” “Now why would he be here…?” He crept toward the alcohol-stinking, insensate figure and, feigning concern, began groping at the money belt. His fingers brushed against silver coins and a letter. Li Ji swept his vulpine gaze across the surroundings.

――The next morning. While Li Ji was rushing to the county office with that letter to lodge his secret accusation, Wang Si—wearing a thoroughly dejected expression—was giving his report before his master Shi Jin. "I have returned. 'We humbly accept your gracious invitation and shall most certainly attend,' was Third Leader's reply." “Did you just return now, Wang Si? That took you long enough!” "Well... I ended up being treated to a feast at the mountain stronghold."

“When they bring out the wine, you lose all sense, don’t you? Ah, never mind that. Just hurry to the kitchen and have them prepare tomorrow’s dishes and get the utensils from the storehouse ready.”

The next day was the Mid-Autumn Festival.

The Shi family’s tenant farmers and servants had been busy since noon preparing for the banquet. They slaughtered sheep and killed ducks and chickens—dozens upon dozens of birds, though no one could say exactly how many. The hundred delicacies simmered since the previous day were arranged on silver platters, and they had brought out countless jugs of the family’s premium sake, laying them before the guests with only the seals left to break. Before long, Zhu Wu, Chen Da, and Yang Chun arrived punctually, wearing beneath their armor the crimson brocade robes Shi Jin had previously gifted them.

The reception was handled by local men and village maidens. Shi Jin seated the three leaders in the places of honor, "Ah, splendid! You have deigned to come. They say heroes have always recognized heroes since ancient times. The moon is splendid, the osmanthus casts its floral shadows—tonight, shall we not converse to our hearts' content? Come now, make yourselves comfortable!"

They raised their cups together. As the night deepened, the moon grew brighter, dew scattered pearls upon the osmanthus, and the host and guests’ revelry knew no bounds. With each new surge of laughter and conversation, another jug of wine seemed to drain dry. Then suddenly, Shi Jin and the three guest leaders appeared to startle at something and fell silent. Surrounding the wide earthen wall outside pressed the ominous presence of a tide-like host of people and horses. When they listened closely, this is what they heard: “Hey Shi Jin, open the gate! Open up, or we’ll kick it down! Within this manor compound tonight—we have an informant confirming it—the Shao Hua Mountain bandits are holding a meeting! Every direction you turn—try as you might to flee—there’s no path of escape! Hand over the bandits, or we’ll storm in! Well? What’ll it be?”

"So there’s an informer," he realized with gritted teeth. "The county arresters have come storming in? Flowers battered by wind—moon veiled by clouds—but this tempest arrives too soon." Shi Jin clicked his tongue sharply. "Guests—" "There’s no cause for alarm." "For now—keep drinking as you were."

He ran out from the banquet. He placed a ladder against the wall, climbed it, and shouted down at the forces outside the gate. Thick torch smoke smoldered ominously. Cross-tipped spears, five-pronged halberds, sleeve snares, and other arresting tools—all looked fearsome enough to chill the blood. “Ho there! Master Shi Jin!” “We’re officers from the county sheriff!” “Hand over those bandits yourself and we’ll call it square—otherwise—” “Now now—let’s all keep our heads. “Just when I’ve got those three bandit chiefs inside getting good and soused—”

“Do you claim you’re not conspiring with these bandits?” “You must be joking! This may sound boastful, but the Shi family is the oldest lineage in Shi Family Village—a great landowner for generations. What honor would I gain from colluding with bandits? You’ll be paying out that three thousand guan reward, I trust?” “That’s stipulated in public notice—provided you hand them over immediately.” “Then keep silent and form a perimeter around this place. Let them drink their fill, then I’ll truss them up like prayer beads and open these gates.”

When Shi Jin returned to the banquet, he ordered his family members and young servants to hastily gather the most valuable gold, silver, and treasures from the family storehouse, then had dozens of burly men carry everything—women and children included—along with those belongings. And he ordered them to set fire to the thatched hut at the rear of the house.

The startled three leaders screamed as they wrapped their hands behind their backs in a show of resolve, “Wh-why are you burning down this manor? …Surely you don’t mean to protect us?” “No—it’s to demonstrate my innocence,” Shi Jin countered. “Tonight’s events make it look exactly like I set a trap for you gentlemen.” “You must be joking!” they protested. “Whatever may happen, we would never think Master Nine-Tattooed Dragon has trapped us. Wait! Please don’t set the fire—”

Even as they screamed toward one side, they themselves brought both hands behind their backs, showing their resolve as they spoke.

“To think we bandits, by seeking your company when you’re so upright, have caused you such trouble—it’s we who ought to apologize.” “Come—settle your dues by tying us up and handing us over to the county seat officials.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” “If I did that, Shi Jin’s honor as a man would be ruined for life.” “Asking me to play-act like that’s no different than telling me to become a beggar! ……Look—the flames are taking hold!” “Enough talk! Let’s cut our way through here and make a break for your mountain stronghold!” Seeing the flames engulfing the manor, shouts erupted anew beyond the gates. By then, Shi Jin had already wedged his spear underarm, thrown open the gate’s latch, and charged out—forcing Zhu Wu, Yang Chun, Chen Da and the rest to hack their way through alongside him.

The black smoke instantly resembled swift clouds soaring, while the harvest moon—now blood-red in hue—looked down upon the rain of sword glints and screams below. Before long, like leaves swept by the wind, the sheriff’s horses and crowd of arresters scattered in flight.

Elsewhere,

Elsewhere, there was also a line of figures running headlong toward Shao Hua Mountain. And in the desolate dawn of Shijia Village, now that all had departed, the century-old main pillars of the ancestral house, the earthen storehouses, and the surrounding trees still crackled with flames, each alone feeding the raging inferno.

Looking back, I was such a fool. ——Shi Jin muttered self-deprecatingly. My ancestors must surely be lamenting. But it couldn’t be helped—it was my inborn nature. Because at that moment, I had felt a shred of righteousness toward those three bandits outweighed all that family wealth—so the blame for siring such a son must still lie with my ancestors. "...But staying in this mountain stronghold indefinitely, doing nothing, would get me nowhere." Right—now that I was free and unburdened by any family storehouse, I should go seek out Master Wang, whom I’d parted with years ago, and head to Yan’an Prefecture.

About one month after taking refuge at Shao Hua Mountain.

Nine-Tattooed Dragon Shi Jin laid bare his resolved heart to the three leaders, "I'm sorry, but when the time comes, return the servants and youths who took refuge here to their proper occupations." "As for the gold and silver we brought, divide it among yourselves when that moment arrives." "I'll be setting out on a journey to Guanxi to seek my master, Master Wang Jin."

Naturally, 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 existence stemmed from Shi Jin’s very destiny—to be born as one star among the 108 Stars of Destiny. For he was destined to become the vanguard first star who would gather all Celestial and Earthly Fiends at Liangshan’s stronghold—where frost-laden halberds would line riverbanks strewn with reed blossoms, and warships lurk beneath swaying cattail leaves.

And so, having left Shao Hua Mountain—

Drifting along as he embarked on his journey, Shi Jin’s appearance embodied the dashing style favored by Song Dynasty youths. His Fanyang hat of white ramie fabric had its corners turned up with rose-colored tassels fluttering about, while the navy headband securing his hair bore an egg-yolk-hued ribbon decoration. Disdaining garish primary colors, he wore a white ramie battle robe with short hems—a red plum-patterned cord serving as his waistband, a beautiful long sword hanging at his side, and blue-and-white striped gaiters completing his agile ensemble. His footwear consisted of eight-lugged hemp sandals built to endure long journeys.

But though he dressed with flair， he couldn't afford to be choosy about roadside inns or meals. He bedded down in wild fields and slept on mountain slopes. A journey spanning over twenty days. Before long， he arrived at a city called Weizhou. "Ah， so there's another Jingluefu—a frontier fortress against foreign tribes—here too." "Perhaps I might learn of Master Wang's whereabouts."

As he walked through, the city within the walls was bustling with a lively market district. At the corner of the bustling district stood a tea shop. Proceeding all the way inside, from a camp stool, “Hey, old man.” “Bring me a cup of tea.” “Yes, yes… Are you traveling, sir?” “That’s right. “Old man, don’t you know? “I’m looking for a man from the former Eastern Capital of Kaifeng called Master Wang Jin.” “Well, here at the Jingluefu as well, there are several gentlemen named Wang…” “With just that, I can’t tell which Mr. Wang you mean.”

Then from outside, a burly man strode in abruptly. His stout frame was wrapped in a dark green damask battle robe, while on his head sat a black gauze swastika headcloth upon which a golden emblem glittered brightly. Furthermore, his eyes gleamed with unusual intensity, and an unkempt beard framed his round, ruddy face. At his waist hung a Taiyuan-style cord and a sword adorned with golden rings—needless to say, this was military attire. Moreover, his height forced others to look up, and his waist circumference nearly doubled that of an ordinary man.

“Ah, this must be Master Tixia* (*Military Police Officer). ...Just the perfect timing.” “Now then, sir.” “Why don’t you ask this gentleman here about the person you’re seeking?” Shi Jin stood up from the camp stool and politely inquired, “Pardon my rudeness, but may I ask you something?”

“What is it?” “Do you have some business with this drunken monk?” “Not at all. “I am Shi Jin from Huayin County, Huazhou. Might there be a Master Wang Jin—formerly of the Imperial Guard in the Eastern Capital—residing in this area?” “Or perhaps—might you have heard any rumors regarding that gentleman?” “Nah…” The Tixia shook his bearded head side to side but glared sharply— “Master Wang is not here—but you, could you be Shi Jin of Shijia Village?”

“Huh? How do you know that?” “Ah, truly you exceed what I had heard! I’ve long heard of you. As for the Master Wang you’re asking about—it’s not that I don’t know of him.” “If I may ask your honorable name?” “A Tixia serving at the Jingluefu. Family name Lu, given name Da.” “So you are addressed as Lu Tixia? No—this doesn’t feel like our first meeting at all. Well, well…”

“Right—I can’t let this fateful meeting end at mere tea.” “How about it? Tea’s no fun.” “Let’s share proper drinks somewhere.” “You have my thanks.” “But where exactly might Master Wang be?” “The defense of this Weizhou falls to the son of His Excellency Zhong, Military Governor of Yan’an Prefecture.” “The Master Wang you seek did indeed come to visit His Excellency.” “He likely remains in Yan’an to this day.”

“Hearing that puts my mind at ease.” “In that case, I’ll take you up on your kind offer and accompany you.” “Old man,” Commander Lu said, putting on his military police demeanor—“put the tea charge on my tab.” The two walked out into the street shoulder to shoulder. Both Lu Da’s imposing build and Shi Jin’s figure stood out prominently amidst the bustling market crowd. After walking several hundred paces, they came upon an empty lot in the town center that resembled a missing tooth, where a pitch-black crowd had gathered.

On a whim, when the two peered over people’s shoulders to look, it seemed that a street performer was delivering a spiel. Street performers came in all sorts, but the one straining his hoarse voice in this vacant lot was a gaunt, ronin-like man in his thirties. Clad in a grimy black robe with the tassels of a wide flat sash hanging sideways, an ivory-hilted sword with a pronounced curve at his waist, he kicked up the toes of his crescent-shaped boots wildly—alternating between left and right—while sniffling snot mid-spiel and occasionally flicking away nasal mucus with a *chin*, all to bolster his grandiloquent performance.

It wasn’t just his legs that were in constant motion. In each hand he held a staff, responding to his own words and spirited shouts as he spun the two staves like a pair of whirling umbrellas.

—and then, was in the midst of delivering a spiel that seemed to say, “Today I will show you numerous secret techniques rarely disclosed on public thoroughfares!”— “Oh! Oh! This is one hell of a coincidence!” Suddenly, as Shi Jin muttered amidst the crowd, Commander Lu turned his large eyes back to his companion’s face. “Huh? A coincidence. Do you know that street performer from somewhere?” “Know him? Far from it. When I was a boy in the village, I received instruction in staff techniques from Li Zhong the Tiger-Slaying General.”

At that moment, Li Zhong the street performer had also noticed.

"Oh! Isn't this the young master?" "So it really was you, Master. To meet in such an unexpected place!" "You calling me 'Master' makes me blush. To your esteemed household, I was merely Li Zhong—a burdensome dependent who had been freeloading for so long."

Lu Da interjected from the side. “Ah—who gives a damn about that? We’re on our way to get a drink right now. You there—come along!”

“Please wait,” said Li Zhong. “I’ve just handed out medicinal plasters to the crowd. Let me collect payment first, then I’ll join you.” “What’s this? Damn tedious!” Lu Zhishen retorted. “Peddling your useless plasters... Hurry it up!” “Please wait! This is business—customers come first. I can’t just abandon my stall.” Li Zhong wiped his nose mid-sentence. “If you insist, go on ahead without me—Young Master, Commander.” “Hey! You lot!” Lu Zhishen barked, suddenly adopting his military police demeanor toward the spectators. “Don’t play innocent and slink off! Pay the performer quick or I’ll thrash you senseless!”

Seeing Lu Da’s hairy fist meant it was all over. Not a single coin fell, and the spectators—men and women alike—scattered in every direction like spiderlings.

In the morning, he had sent off the singer Jin Cuilian; by evening glow, even Military Police Officer Lu found himself fleeing.

In Weizhou as well, at the bridgehead of Zhou Bridge in the town center, there was a restaurant called Pan Restaurant. First, Lu Zhishen entered. “Hey. Is there a free table on the second floor?” “Oh! If it isn’t Commander Lu!” “Welcome, sir.” “Right this way to the upper floor, please.” Wherever he went, Commander Lu’s authority and imposing presence inevitably commanded awe. Paying no heed to the counter staff’s greetings, he ascended to the second floor with Shi Jin and Li Zhong in tow. Surrounding a single table there, the three sat down like the legs of a tripod, their imposing frames settling heavily into place.

“Hey! Bring the wine quickly! And never mind about appetizers—just keep bringing every tasty dish you’ve got!”

As they rested their cheeks on their hands amidst the lively table and gazed at the four walls, they saw vermilion characters on gold-leafed couplets hanging from pillars that read: "The wind lingers in willow shade—Taiping's wine banner; Sake tangles the fair one's heartstrings; Apricot blossoms sweeten—ambitions yet unfulfilled; For now sing loud—enter drunken realms." Such were the couplets inscribed there. Bemoaning worldly affairs between lighthearted banter, the three grew thoroughly cheerful and formed a close bond. They had lost count of how many square bottles—each holding four gō—had been brought to their table. But occasionally, a mood-killing disturbance—like needles jabbing Commander Lu's nerves—began seeping through. For some time now, a woman's sniveling sobs had been drifting from somewhere. He finally lost his temper and roared while stamping the floor with one foot.

“Hey! Waiter!” “Waiter!” “Right away! Another square bottle, sir?” “You idiot! No matter how much I drink, I just end up sobering up right away.” “What’s with that sniveling from the next room—like the drip-drip of eaves after rain?”

“Well, you see…” “I’m terribly sorry.” “Did it bother your ears?” “Of course it did.” “You’ve got nerves and ears too, don’t you?” “It’s rude even to the guests I brought along.” “That crying—it’s a woman, isn’t it?” “They’re a father-daughter singing duo who perform at taverns.” “Hmph.” “So you’re the bastard who bullied some weakling and made her cry!” “Y-you must be joking!” “If anything—since it’s not even time to light the evening lamps—we’ve been trying to calm them down in the next room with snacks (sweets) and such.” “We’ll drive them out right away.”

“Wait, wait! You’re even pitying them! You think driving them out will make this drunken monk’s wine taste any better? Bring them here—to this room!” “Is that proper? She’s accompanied by her father.” “Damned fool! This isn’t about lust!” Parting the grease-stained partition curtain, they saw the singing father and daughter being led in—of course they were the sort of shabby itinerant performers common in nighttime towns. The old man clutched four-bamboo clappers while his daughter cradled a two-stringed huqin.

Clad in a thin white summer robe and trailing a crimson gauze skirt, her pale gauntness appeared not only in her cheeks but cast a fragile shadow across her shoulders. Yet the single cheap jade hairpin fastened in her hair made this girl—no great beauty—seem all the more like an autumn butterfly in her delicate loveliness. "I can't stand this—crying here again." "Stop the weeping, I beg you." "Better to tell me what grieves you than drown in tears."

“Yes…” At last, the girl pulled her sleeve away from her sobs. And then, together with the old man who had been doing nothing but apologizing since earlier, “We were originally from Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital, but burdened by heavy taxes and unable to sustain our business, we drifted to this Weizhou.” “However, the relatives we had hoped to rely on were no longer there, and on top of living in inns, our mother passed away after a long illness, leaving us with nothing left to sell.” “And so, we ended up heeding others’ words and accepting help from a certain gentleman—a mistake that from the very beginning bound us to such harsh blame and karmic retribution.”

...and at last, trembling, they confessed how they had fallen into the trap of a man who could be called the “scum of the streets”—a ruthless scheme. A common ploy. To this father and daughter, who had been at their wits’ end in their inn lodgings, there appeared a kind soul like a Buddha in hell. Just when they had come to reverently believe—*Could there truly be such a kind soul in this world?*—the man used the innkeeper to propose that she become his concubine, his words laced with half-veiled threats. When they reluctantly entrusted themselves to him, he next offered to take them into his home and provide furniture and clothing—but doing so would require investing significant capital in “a body like yours,” he claimed. He demanded that they write a promissory note for three thousand strings of ransom money.

However, though they took her in, the principal wife proved to be a tiger-like formidable woman—before three months had passed, she had been driven out of that household. Not only that—they didn’t give her a single change of clothes, let alone pay a single copper coin toward the promissory note they’d forced her to sign earlier. To make matters worse, after that, the man now brandished a blank promissory note and made a forceful demand: “Return the ransom money I gave you earlier.” Even though the innkeeper was fully aware that the matter was a lie, he colluded with them and, like a high-interest daily moneylender, harassed the father and daughter day after day. And yet, even as the father and daughter eked out their fragile existence each night in Weizhou’s red-light district, performing duets with faint four-bamboo clappers and huqin, seven-tenths of their meager earnings were wrung away by demonic hands the moment they returned to their roost. “...There’s nothing left but to die,” they said, driven to this extremity by their despair.

“Hmm…” “What a damn vile bastard there is in this world.” “Now then, old man—what’s your name? And how old’s your daughter here?” Commander Lu was soft-hearted. Amidst his smoldering anger, his eyelids occasionally fluttered rapidly. “Yes, this humble one’s surname is Jin, and my daughter is called Cuilian—she’s nineteen years old.” “The inn you’re staying at—” “It’s a cheap inn called the Lu Family’s within the East Gate.” “Hmm.” “That Lu Family?” “No—the real problem ain’t them, but that rotten scoundrel who sweet-talks folks just to toy with their daughters, then wrings every last copper from your nightly scraps of earnings.” “Who in hell’s name is this bastard, and where’s he from?”

“If we speak of such things, who knows what terrible retribution we might face later?” “Shut your fool mouth! I’m Lu Da—Provincial Commander of this prefecture’s military police, known throughout these lands. No need for fear. I’ll stand by you.” “In truth...that man is none other than Great Patron Zheng.” “Great Patron Zheng?” “Yes—the owner of the large butcher shop at Zhuangyuan Bridge’s western end, Guanxi’s most prominent...” “Hah! That Zheng?” Commander Lu clicked his tongue like spitting phlegm. “Calling him ‘Great Patron’ so politely—I wondered who you meant! So it’s that swine-slaughtering lard-gutted bastard! Very well—now that this has reached my ears, I won’t let it stand!”

Lu Da turned to his companions Shi Jin and Li Zhong.

“Would you both kindly stay here and keep drinking?” “I’ll dash over there and give that scoundrel a good thrashing.” Shi Jin looked exasperated by his impatience.

“Why don’t you save that for tomorrow? Today’s such a rare delight—the three of us gathered here through unexpected fortune! The drinks and talk have barely begun!”

“I see,” said Shi Jin. “I suppose that’s true—” At last seeming to reconsider, Lu Da continued: “...Then I’ll put up five taels from what I’ve got here.” “My apologies for the imposition, but you gentlemen too—think of it as payment for tonight’s songs from these pitiful tavern performers. Could you spare some parting funds?” “...I mean to use this to send them home with travel money—” “Ah! You’ve struck upon an excellent scheme!” Shi Jin immediately produced ten taels. But for Li Zhong the ointment peddler, this proved rather trying. When he reluctantly placed about two taels on the table, Lu Da flicked them back with a snap of his fingernail.

“What’s this? You stingy bastard! A measly two taels?” “Ah, never mind, old man—with fifteen taels, you can settle the inn bill and use what’s left for travel home... There she goes sniveling again.” “Enough! Didn’t I tell you weepy displays are strictly forbidden for this drunken monk?” “Come now—take this, quit your wandering tonight, and hurry back to prepare for departure.” “Bah! Whatever filth that innkeeper spews, don’t you dare fret over it.” “I’ll come check on the Lu Family inn again tomorrow morning.”

This must have settled everything. After Jin Cuilian and her father had bowed repeatedly and taken their leave, the three men continued drinking heartily until the lamps were lit. And staggering out into the night streets, they soon reached a crossroads,

“Well then—let’s meet again someday.”

And so Shi Jin, Li Zhong, and Commander Lu each went their separate ways, returning to their respective destinations.

The next morning—Lu Da, his imposing frame once more clad in military police uniform, appeared in the outskirts district and stood at the entrance to the Lu Family’s cheap inn. Under the eaves lay a handcart piled with a small household’s belongings—small bundles, dish baskets, and rags bundled in cloth. Lu Da had barely felt a flicker of relief—*So these must be Jin Cuilian and her father’s departure goods*—when from deep within the building came the innkeeper’s bellowing roar, followed by the clattering din of their frantic apologies and screams.

“Hey! Jin’s father and daughter! What’re you doing? “Hurry up and get out! Out!”

When the innkeeper heard Lu Zhishen’s voice outside, he rushed out and now turned his aggression toward him. “Jin Cuilian has a loan contract.” “I’ve been entrusted by Master Zheng to collect the debt! How could I just let them skip town like this?!” “Or are you saying you’ll step in and neatly pay off three thousand guan right here?” he snarled, his face twisted in fury. “Don’t fuck with me! You’re another one of those bloodsuckers.” “You bush mosquito bastard!”

He raised his foot high and kicked him square in the chest—though he meant it as a light blow, the innkeeper’s body curled into a ball and rolled three or four times. As the innkeeper cursed through gritted teeth—“Damn... beast!”—and began rising up, the tip of his boot delivered a second kick. Black mud sprayed high from the ditch where the innkeeper’s shadow had vanished. “You damn Commander! How dare you slam our master into the ditch!”

He appeared to be one of the young men employed there. Valiantly wielding firewood, he came charging. Lu Da didn’t even budge as he grabbed the man by some part of his body. No sooner had a startled cry skimmed through the air than the man’s body was hurled onto the eaves, shattered them, and came crashing down to the ground with a thud. “Come on, Cuilian and old man! Hurry up and push that handcart out of here.” “What’re you trembling so much for?” “I’ll see you off here.” “Don’t fret ’bout it! Just get movin’!”

As they withdrew from the outskirts of Weizhou through the morning mist, glancing back again and again at their vanishing figures, Lu Da too raised his large hand slightly in farewell. And then he himself began lumbering from the crossroads of the outskirts toward the bustling main thoroughfare.

“Oi, Boss.” “Business is booming as always.” “Dice ten catties of your finest cuts into cubes for me.”

At the foot of Zhuangyuan Bridge. Lu Da, who had entered deep into a large shop that appeared to deal in meat wholesale and retail, plopped down onto one of the chairs there. And with his piercing glare, he surveyed everything—the meat-cutting tables where ten or more employees were busily working; the numerous naked pigs hanging behind them; and even the accounting area where Zheng, the owner who bore a striking resemblance to those very pigs, crouched with a brush in hand. “Well, well! If it isn’t Master Commander!” Zheng, recognizing him, deftly stepped away from the counter—“What an unexpected honor.” “For you to personally handle such a matter...”

“You don’t need to blather on. Today, this drunken monk has been invited to young Lord Zhong’s estate—Commander Zhong of the border fortresses. Cut it without a speck of fat.” “Understood.” “Oi—dice it into cubes! You lot! Ten catties of the absolute finest—quick!” “Hold it. Aren’t you the butcher’s master? They call you the big shot of Kansai’s Five Routes—don’t you realize your whole thriving business rides on our guardian Lord Zhong’s favor? Cut it yourself.”

“You’ve got me there,” “Truly—in times like these, one must exert oneself fully…” Muttering thus, Zheng promptly took his place before the meat-cutting table. With practiced mastery, he brandished the large butcher’s cleaver in a dazzling display—selecting each cut through rigorous scrutiny—until at last—

“My apologies for the wait.”

He wrapped it in a large lotus leaf and presented it. Lu Da nodded. “Put it there.” “Next—another ten catties of pure fat.” “Huh?” “What could you possibly need pure fat cubes for?” “Don’t pry into what’s unnecessary.” “And dice that into cubes too!” "This is tough..." "But I'll manage." After another half-hour passed and Zheng had wrapped and presented this as well, Lu Da next ordered him to cut ten catties of nothing but pork cartilage in the same manner.

Zheng also wore a sullen expression at this, but masked it with a laugh.

“Master, you’re being cruel. “Master, you can’t just toy with me like this!” “Don’t get smart with me. “To begin with, isn’t that mug of yours already made to be a laughingstock?” “What?!” A thick vein flared up violently on Zheng’s temple. “Hey—say that again. “It’s only because I thought you were the Provincial Commander that I’ve been biting my tongue this whole time!”

“Is that so? This drunken monk was also waiting for you to bare your true nature. Strip off another layer and show me!”

No sooner had Lu Da spoken than he hurled two lotus-leaf-wrapped bundles of meat into Zheng’s face. The moment he was showered with the meat rain, Zheng—wielding a sharp bone-slicing knife—leaped over the meat-cutting table. “You bastard!” “You’ve done it now!” In a flash, he lowered his stocky bulk and charged into Lu Da’s chest. SMACK! The loud crack rang out as Lu Da’s open palm struck his cheekbone an instant before impact. As Zheng staggered back on unsteady legs—

“Today’s opponent is a bit different, you swine!” He delivered a kick and sent him flying from the shopfront into the street. Zheng sprang up like a blazing fireball. But no sooner had he risen than Lu Da’s iron fist smashed into the corner of his eye, forcing out a bizarre “Guh!” At Zhuangyuan Bridge’s bustling thoroughfare, the swarming crowd’s clamor instantly enveloped the surroundings. As the big shot of the Five Routes of Kansai, he couldn’t very well flee now. With dogged persistence, he clung to Lu Da’s massive waist and refused to let go.

“You street vermin! You really sucked that poor singer father and daughter dry to the marrow, didn’t you? Consider this the interest on that debt!” The iron fist that shook free and thrust upward shattered Zheng’s jaw; his face, knocked backward, spewed blood and lay completely still. “Serves you right!” barked Lu Da, planting his foot on Zheng’s chest and striking a triumphant pose—but Zheng’s resistance had ended. A glance revealed one eye dangling from its socket and teeth clamped down on his tongue. “…Damn, 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 tossed such parting words over his shoulder.

“Tch. All talk and no bite, you worthless windbag! You’re putting on a damn act like you’re dead!”

No sooner had he crossed Zhuangyuan Bridge than his walking pace began to quicken. "I've done something terrible," he thought. "The provincial commander sworn to protect the people's peace had beaten one of them to death." "This won't end without consequences," he muttered inwardly, as if hounded by self-reproach.

He had no sooner returned to his lodgings than he hurriedly gathered his belongings and small silver into his robe, left only that month’s rent in the room, and abruptly darted off to parts unknown. In his hand he clutched a staff, his posture mirroring the Great Sage Equal of Heaven Sun Wukong riding the clouds.

Yet before the day was out, that very afternoon, Wang Guancha—a provincial inspector—stormed into these lodgings with a host of constables and arresters, but Lu Zhishen, the Provincial Commander, had already fled like the wind. However, Zheng—the overlord of the Five Routes—left behind kin and underlings who possessed both wealth and capacity for violence. Moreover, from the Lu family’s inn too, an overblown complaint had been filed simultaneously with the provincial office. Naturally, the Prefectural Governor could not disregard this.—An order was issued that Provincial Commander Lu Da, now a fugitive, was to be apprehended on sight wherever found across the realm, with no leniency shown in his punishment. Needless to say, detailed physiognomy reports noting his strikingly distinctive features—build, stature, and such—were circulated to every county as well.

Ranhua’s eyelids trembled with tears upon meeting her benefactor,

The razors of Mount Wutai turned Lu into a monk. Eating with chopsticks requires no brute strength. Even heroes, when stripped of their positions, prove surprisingly vulnerable in the world.

After fleeing, Lu Da had been hiding in the wilds and sleeping in the mountains; now, even his empty stomach had grown accustomed—he appeared like a man weathered by hardship.

Months had passed in wandering.

His figure was soon spotted in the town of Yanmen County, Dai Prefecture (northern Shanxi Province). The town was surrounded by walls measuring eight zhou in circumference, and Yanmen Pass, situated at Yanmen Mountain, had always stood prepared against invasions by the Northern Di. Moreover, the ancient scars of history—repeatedly ravaged by Xiongnu incursions since antiquity—still cast their melancholic gloom over this place’s present prosperity, never fully erased.

“Oh hell—another crowd gawking at notices here too.” “Having fled this far west,I truly thought I’d seen the last of these damn things...” At the crossroads throng,Luisien Temple’s disgraced monk mingled casually among merchants and fishwives,gazing up at his own arrest warrant and facial composite sketched with improbable cheekbones.

Dai Prefecture Yanmen County Office hereby proclaims:

Dai Prefecture Yanmen County Office hereby proclaims: The military personnel and murderer of Weizhou—the villainous Provincial Commander Lu Da—should he appear within this jurisdiction, immediately report him to the authorities. Those who shelter him shall be deemed equally guilty. Furthermore, any who perform the civic duty of reporting him shall receive forthwith a reward of one thousand strings of cash. Right beside Lu Da’s ear—men reading aloud, old men with white-bearded chins propped on staffs, scholar-like figures copying notes for later study, women, laborers, vendors—the mingled scent of sun-warmed bodies rose from this motley assembly.

Lu Da, who had been watching it with a face as if it were someone else’s affair,

“H-hey! What’re you doin’, old man? What—” He whirled around to face the elder tugging insistently at his sleeve and glared sharply—but then: “Oh! You’re Cuilian’s—” “Shh!... This way.” Elder Zhao dragged him unceremoniously to a deserted spot before releasing a heavy sigh of relief. “From the moment I spotted someone resembling you earlier,” he said, “I knew it must be our savior Master Lu Da.” “But heavens—such brazenness!”

“Oh! So it was Old Man Jin! This is unexpected. I thought for sure you’d gone back to your hometown.” “In truth, during our journey after that incident, we encountered a wealthy man named Zhao in this region. Through his gracious patronage, my daughter Cuilian has now established a household here.” “Hey now. You’re not getting taken in by another smooth-talking swine, are you?” “Oh no, Benefactor—that gentleman is nothing like Zheng—a truly upright man. Cuilian also says morning and evening like a mantra that it’s all thanks to you. Nothing would demonstrate our gratitude better than for you to see how we live now. Please do come along.”

“Wh-where are you dragging me off to?” “…What? A mistress’s house.” “Nah, I’m not good with that sort of thing.” “Now, now—don’t say such things,” Elder Jin insisted, forcibly taking him back to his daughter’s house. Hearing this, Jin Cuilian ran out from the back,

“Oh… Master Lu Da.” Needless to say, tears immediately welled in her orchid-like eyelids as she received this fallen benefactor, showing every bit of her considerate heart. “At any rate, how about a bath?” She suggested he take a bath, and in the meantime, directed the servants to prepare quick dishes—fresh fish, young chicken, vinegared delicacies—along with cups, silver wine jugs, tray fruits, and sweets (pastries), then arranged the seating at the head of the table.

“Now, please have a drink,” she said. “And make yourself truly at home.” “Such a blinding feast,” Lu Zhishen remarked. “Far too grand for this drunken monk’s current station.” “When I reflect on how our troubles forced you into wandering,” Jin Cuilian began tearfully, “it was all for Father and me—” “Enough with ‘Benefactor’ this and ‘Benefactor’ that!” he interrupted. “You’ll sour the wine!” “Yes, yes,” she acquiesced. “Just one last word—we’ve kept your name inscribed on a red tablet since then, offering incense each dawn and dusk.” Her fingers trembled around the wine jug. “How else could today’s reunion be anything but heaven’s design?” “Well now, Cuilian,” Elder Zhao chuckled, “you’ve never known such fortune!”

“I don’t know what to say. I just can’t stop crying…” “This won’t do. Your kindness is most appreciated, but this monk can’t stomach Cuilian’s sniffling as part of the feast.” “Oh, I’m sorry. You truly disliked tears, though. I won’t shed any more tears of joy, so please enjoy yourself merrily.”

However, as twilight approached, an uproar began rising outside. Ever vigilant to even the sound of wind, when Lu Da peered down from the window, he saw a man who looked like an elder on horseback leading twenty or thirty youths—each brandishing clubs—methodically inspecting the mistress’s residence inside and out.

“They’re here,” Lu Zhishen exclaimed—whether through intuition or not—as he tried to leap onto the rear roof, prompting Elder Jin to frantically grab his waist sash. “Master Lu Zhishen, please wait! The one who came outside is the master of the Zhao family, whom Cuilian has been indebted to. Elder Zhao had long heard of your chivalry through my daughter’s accounts and was deeply moved by it, so there must be some misunderstanding here. Now, just let this old man go explain the circumstances.”

In a flurry, Jin hurried down the stairs. Before long, the matter seemed to have been resolved; the youths were sent away, and only Elder Zhao alone was brought up by the old man.

“Ha ha ha ha! “I must have let my imagination run wild—how inexcusably rude I’ve been.” “I am Zhao, who has been caring for Cuilian. Might you be Master Lu Da, whose name has long reached my ears?” “Nah—we both found ourselves in peril there.” “Indeed, this one is none other than Lu Da—the disgraced former commandant.” “I called while you were absent.” “Not at all! “Since matters stand clarified thusly, this too must be fate’s strange design.” “Cuilian—tonight we shall drink merrily together with your benefactor!” “Have all the wine and dishes entirely renewed!”

Whether it was the bearing of an elder or not, Zhao, though in his fifties, appeared remarkably magnanimous in character. Perhaps he was striving to respond to a righteous-hearted man with righteousness in kind. As the lamps burned low and the drinking reached its peak, “How about it, Master Lu Da? In a place like this town, one cannot let their guard down. Why don’t you come stay at my country estate for a leisurely visit?”

“Much obliged.” “And this country estate you speak of—”

“A mere ten li beyond the outskirts—a tranquil place called Qibao Village.”

“I’ve got no prospects whatsoever. Though I may be imposing, I’ll take you up on that one offer of shelter.”

At this arrangement，Cuilian and her father rejoiced as if it were their own affair. Thus it was that on the following day，Lu Da rode side by side with Elder Zhao into Qibao Village，nestled among purple mountains and clear streams. The elder’s mansion was one that spared no expense. For Lu Da，they would not even permit him to occupy a modest position—so thoroughly that it felt stifling. Zhao laughed at his discomfort， “There’s no need to stand on such ceremony.” “There’s a saying：‘All men are brothers.’”

That might hold true in principle, but society was another matter. As Lu thought of taking his leave around the tenth day—not wanting to overstay his welcome—Zhao broached a certain proposal during that evening’s banquet.

“This may be a strange proposal, but perhaps this too is some karmic vow from past lives.” “...Since you’ve had such contemplations, might you consider entering the Buddhist monastic order?”

“What? A monk?” “...This astonishes me—you’re the first person ever to suggest this drunken monk take vows!” “For one who hasn’t a shred of Buddha-nature from birth...”

“I can’t press this recommendation,” Elder Zhao continued, “but truth be told—after growing suspicious of you the other day—I persuaded some town youths to confront Cuilian’s house. That sparked rumors, and now I keep hearing disquieting whispers in the streets that demand vigilance.” “I’ve been privately reproaching myself,” he added, “dreading what might occur if—” “No,” Lu Da cut in. “If I burden you further, I’d never forgive myself.” “Then I’ll take my leave at once.”

“No, no. Before you go, why not consider this path of becoming a monk I mentioned? If you’re willing, I can arrange all formalities immediately—even procure a Five-Flower Monastic Certificate with official seals.” “When you say ‘enter a temple,’ which one do you mean?” “Thirty li from here stands Mount Wutai, a sacred peak. Its grand temple complex—Manjushri Monastery—boasts seven majestic halls and a jeweled pagoda glowing amidst emerald hues. The learned elder presiding over seven hundred monks is Zhizhen, whom I consider my sworn brother.”

“Hm.” “Doesn’t seem half bad after all.” “Moreover, our family has been a major patron of the temple for generations—not only contributing donations for its construction and events but also being consulted by the abbot on all matters.” “The only thing missing as a cherished aspiration is that not a single monk from our family has joined the temple’s monastic order.” “How about it, Master Lu Da?” “Why not give it a try?” “Ha ha ha ha.” “That ‘giving it a try’ attitude might prove troublesome, you know.”

“No—I shall awaken my resolve. At this point, even Lu Da ought to obediently return to being like others—this might well be the admonition of his deceased parents. I shall make the request.”

For him, this was undoubtedly a major turning point. He made a somewhat lonely face, but the matter was settled.

Several days were required for the preparations. When the day came for entering the temple and ascending the mountain, bearers carrying two mountain palanquins set out toward Mount Wutai. All arrangements had already been coordinated with the mountain’s elders and monastic community—the ordination ceremony, ritual offerings of gifts, subsequent celebrations, and every other detail. The palanquin passed through a grand procession of mountain monks before alighting at the abbot’s quarters, where they first venerated an offering of tea and cleansed themselves of impurities at a rear wellspring. ...Soon guided by an officiant amidst resonant temple bell tolls, they wound through a long serpentine corridor and advanced to the main hall where solemn lamplight illuminated three sacred Buddha statues.

When he saw that one Zen chair was empty, Lu Da put on a solemn air and sat down in it. Then Elder Zhao, greatly flustered, rose from where he had begun to sit down, approached Lu Da who was leaning against the Zen chair, and brought his mouth close to his ear to whisper. “You, who have come here seeking ordination, must not sit face-to-face with the mountain’s elder.” “Ah. I see.” Lu Da stepped back and stood together with Elder Zhao like a new student.

At the front stood the Elder and Chief Seat in order, followed by two lines stretching east and west. Those whose purple-gold and red-gold kasayas glistened so dazzlingly that they seemed to flow were likely the duty monks: the Prefect, Attendants, Supervisor, Abbot, Guest Prefect, and Scribe. They all pursed their lips tightly and fixed their clear eyes in a gaze that seemed both to see and not see, adopting postures of scrutinizing the newcomer Lu Da in secret—yet on every face hovered a puzzled expression without exception, as though each wanted to mutter, "...Huh?" Within such hearts, each and every one secretly mused: "...No matter how you look at him, his countenance is undeniably menacing." "And that one claims to have awakened monastic resolve?" "Though it's Elder Zhao's recommendation, the audacity of that eerie posture beggars belief." "But if the Elder has accepted him..." Even these unspoken words naturally took shape as a peculiar breeze playing across the brows and noses of the assembled figures.

But Lu Zhishen, as if some wind were blowing through him, kept wrinkling his nose—whether from the solemn chill of the mountain air or a sneeze coming on—and made it twitch repeatedly.

For some reason having been deeply moved—as if he had swallowed a stick—Lu Zhishen stood rigidly upright. Elder Zhao suddenly noticed and once again gently pulled the sleeve beside him to offer a reminder. “It’s time for prayer... You must perform the prayer gesture with joined palms.” “For your sake, His Holiness will now perform the sacred tonsure ceremony.” “Oh—is that so?”

Lu Da also hurriedly joined his palms. Looking up, His Holiness the Elder waved his ceremonial whisk and slowly leaned back into the Zen chair. The great incense burner exhaled billowing dragon-shaped smoke, while Elder Zhao first paid reverent homage to the catalog of offerings he had presented that day—incense materials, silver coins, textiles, and other items. At this, Lu Da cleared his throat once and solemnly recited the petition for monastic ordination through awakened resolve in a resonant voice. When he finished, His Holiness’s face within the swirling incense smoke had seamlessly entered a state of deep meditation. Having formed a mudra with his knees and sat in lotus position with closed eyes for some time, he then spoke as if something had possessed him.

“Excellent, excellent. This man’s nature aligns with a celestial star. His original heart is strong and upright. His violent deeds stem solely from his lack of proper direction. In time, he shall attain enlightenment—an extraordinary rebirth surely awaits him… Katsu!” The instant the Dharma drum thundered and the temple bell tolled again, two novice monks stepped forward. They removed Lu Zhishen’s hat, took his hands, and made him kneel beneath the Elder’s Dharma seat.

The duty monk Prefect stood holding a razor. The attendant held up a basin for washing the ears, the chief temple administrator took a comb, and parted Lu Da’s hair into nine strands and tied them off. ...The razor scraped gratingly upward from his sideburns toward the crown of his head, as though tracing the curve of the moon.

“……?”

Lu Da felt a strange sensation. He felt unsettled, wondering how strangely his appearance must have changed. But when his head had been shaved completely, leaving it chillingly bare, and the razor reached his beard, he panicked. “Ah! Wait! Just leave a little bit around here, would ya?” The monks burst into laughter—then, as if to quell it, Elder Zhizhen on the Dharma seat recited a gatha with a thunderous shout. “Not a blade of grass remains—the six roots are purified. For thee we shave and remove, that thou mayst be spared contention. Now! Shave it all off!”

Lu Da could no longer even cry. Here, the Chief Seat, on behalf of Elder Zhao, presented the Nine-Flower Ordination Certificate before the Dharma seat and entreated that a “Dharma name” be granted for the newly initiated Lu Da. His Holiness solemnly bestowed yet another gatha, handed the ordination certificate to the scribe, and the scribe took up his brush to inscribe the “Dharma Name” upon it. The gatha states: A single spark of divine light—its worth equals a thousand gold pieces. The Buddha’s Dharma is boundless—bestow the name Zhishen. Thus, the newly initiated monk was given the name “Zhishen.” When the scribe handed him that ordination certificate, in form he had become one of the ordained. Then, the Elder placed his hand upon his shaved, glistening head and bestowed the precepts.

“First, take refuge in the Buddha’s Dharma; second, devote yourself to the True Dharma; third, revere your teachers and companions. This is called the Three Refuges... The Five Precepts that follow are: killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, intoxication, and lying. Will you uphold them?”

“Yes. I will uphold them.”

When Lu Zhishen answered, those around him again burst into laughter. In Zen sects, proper etiquette demanded answering with a single word—either “Affirmative” or “Negative”—and Zhishen flushed crimson at every exchange. That evening saw a grand feast of vegetarian delicacies held in the Cloud Hall. From one end to the other, celebratory gifts and gratuities from Elder Zhao were distributed throughout the assembly. Thus on the following day, as he prepared to descend the mountain, Elder Zhao summoned Lu Zhishen alone to the shade of Senbutsu-jo’s trees and imparted his solemn parting words.

“This unfamiliar life will be trying at first, but do devote yourself wholeheartedly to your training.” “I’ve also made earnest entreaties to the Elder to look after you.”

“I’ve been a terrible burden to you. But rest assured,” “With this shaved head of mine, I’ve no choice but to be reborn a quiet soul.” With that, he rapped his blue-tinged scalp. But after seeing off Elder Zhao’s mountain palanquin and returning to his monastic cell, he’d already forgotten the Elder’s words—sprawling flat on his back without ceremony.

Then, two or three monks who had been practicing on their meditation platforms came to peek. “Hey, novice. Why aren’t you doing zazen?” Heaving himself up, Lu Zhishen—looking thoroughly dubious—spoke while resting his cheeks in both hands. “Neither the Three Refuges nor the Five Precepts say anything about not lying down.” The practicing monks, exasperated, complained to the Chief Seat—but it seemed even he could do nothing to control him. “No, according to the Elder, that outsider is said to bear the destiny of a Celestial Star.” “For now, we’ll simply let him be.”

Zhishen's daily existence resembled that of a wild beast finally finding its proper habitat. With none daring to restrain him, he would snore like thunder when sleeping, and upon waking, relieve himself without compunction—behind the Buddha Hall, within the sacred grove's shadows, wherever took his fancy—in this utterly shameless fashion.

And so, before they knew it, four or five months had passed from summer to autumn at Mount Wutai, and the season had turned to late autumn when the red leaves burned brightly.

Somehow feeling nostalgic for the secular world, Lu Zhishen tied his ink-dyed robe with a navy waistband, put on new monk shoes, and wandered down from Manjushri Temple toward the mountain path. "...Now what's this?" he wondered. "This was irresistible! A fragrance he had long forgotten—where was this scent coming from, carried on the wind from nowhere in particular?"

It was not the fragrance of autumn grasses but the scent of wine. Within a few steps appeared a man shouldering a load of sake barrels while climbing up from below. Lu Zhishen found himself drawn as if encountering an unexpected lover,

“Hey—wait a moment.” And, placing his hand on the man’s carrying pole, he forced him to stop. The hundred-flower tattoo blazed across crimson skin,

The Great Drunkenness of Monk Lu Rocks the Entire Mountain The sake barrels on the carrying pole swung loosely at both ends of the man’s shoulders. Of course, it went without saying that a small amount of sake that spilled from the gap in the lid had soaked into the man’s knees and the ground, releasing a rich aroma abundantly. “Ah! Wh-what a waste!”

Still gripping the end of the pole with one hand, Lu Zhishen made a show of following the spilled wine’s aroma with his nose, which only made the wine carrier more startled and suspicious. “Wh-what is it, Reverend? What reason did you have for detaining me?” “That’s sake in the barrels, isn’t it? This is some impressive sake. Where are you taking them?” “There’s repair work being done on the Niō Gate up the mountain, so I’m taking these to sell to the craftsmen—plasterers, tile roofers, Buddhist image sculptors, and such—who are staying there to work.”

“Hmm…” Lu Zhishen grunted, his nose twitching incessantly. “Damn. You’re a crafty one, aren’t you?” At that moment, he nearly let slip another remark—“Sell me some too”—the words rising to his throat, but he swallowed them back with an audible gulp. “Being a monk’s truly inconvenient. But well… I’m an ordained man now—might as well act dead and be done with it. …Hey! Wine seller!”

“Yes?” “Be careful not to spill any as you carry it.” “Even if you make Ishikoro Slope drink, the path won’t turn a pretty color and rejoice over it.” “How very kind of you.” “Don’t mock me! I’m the one who wants to cry here.” “Damnable bastard I’ve run into!” “Hurry up and get out of here!” Closing his eyes, he broke into a wide-strided dash away from there.

And then, before long.

Just as the serene scenery at the foot of the mountain came into view, another carefree humming tune rose up from below once more.

This area was the ancient battlefield where Emperor Gaozu of Han defeated the great army of Chu. Nearby too lay the site of Wu River’s night encampment, where the famous Xiang Yu and Yu Ji, drenched in tears of sorrow, had embraced each other for the last time. Therefore, even now, the nearby shepherd boys and villagers sang of it in their folk songs. “The plants and trees of Jiuli Mountain know full well, I tell ya—this was the site of a battlefield!” “I picked up some too—rusty swords, spears turned to earth.” “The waters of Wu River, whirled by the wind, show that—” “The anguished writhing of Xiang Yu and Yu Ji’s ill-fated parting,” “Well, well, what’ve you hauled up here this time?” “Well, well.” “Looks like that wine carrier fellow’s coming back again.” “Seems today’s a truly cursed day indeed.”

Probably having feared the suspicious-looking great monk from earlier, the wine carrier abruptly stopped his humming. He tried to slip past quietly. However, the treacherous mountain slope proved ill-suited for such stealth. But then he sloshed out a bit from the barrel—which proved unbearable. Lu Zhishen suddenly reeled, overcome by dizziness. “Whoa, steady, steady... Hey, wait up, wine seller! You’re one thoughtless bastard, aren’t you?” “Why are you spilling it?” “P-p-please, I beg your forgiveness.” “Did I... defile your sacred robes?”

“Nah, ’tain’t that.” “I want to be defiled!” “Sell me the wine from those buckets!” “Don’t be absurd!” “Selling wine to monks is forbidden by the main temple’s laws—if I did that, I couldn’t stay in these lands anymore.” “Don’t care.” “I can’t stand this anymore!” “You might not care, but I’ve got a wife and kids here.” “I can’t sell it to you.” “Enough! What a nuisance!” “Ow!” Though he’d meant to strike lightly, the wine carrier tumbled head over heels from his carrying pole, shoulders wrenching free.

One load had fallen; the other remained intact.—Zhishen frantically salvaged what he could from the overturned barrel first, then grabbed the other one as well. Hoisting both—the light and heavy barrels—in his hands, he dashed toward the viewing pavilion in the distance. “Here! I’m not paying!” No sooner had he flung what seemed to be payment toward the wine carrier—who was rubbing his lower back—than he had already torn off the barrel’s lid. And with the posture of a thirsty great beast submerging its snout in a stream—glug... glug... glug....

With a jerk, he would occasionally lift his head to lick his lips, then turn his face sideways to shake droplets from his chin.

“Ugh... Ughh.” “Unbearable!”

He finished off the heavier barrel first. Even for him, it seemed to require some effort. Heh heh heh. Still some left at the bottom. Alright! Casting off his ink-black priestly robe and baring his torso, Zhishen—flushed red from wine—revealed a seven-foot-tall frame of rippling muscle across whose back blazed a Hundred-Flower-Bird tattoo said to have been carved over a hundred days by a Wei River master, burning as if it had gathered here all the full glory of spring. Ugh... Ah, what a splendid view—a true masterpiece of scenery! The worms in my belly are dancing like sparrows. …Wait, wait—I’m not done yet!

He grabbed the handles of the lighter barrel with both hands. His hairy lower abdomen gave a gut-wrenching heave as he began guzzling from the barrel like a beast swallowing a waterfall. Much of it—like a mountain stream cascading down rock—drenched his chest hair and priestly robes before soaking into the earth. “Mmm... This... finally satisfied... thoroughly satisfied—” Zhishen seemed instantly wrapped in delirious joy. It felt as though all of creation existed solely for him—a sensation that permeated his very being. Suddenly noticing the sake barrel rolling at his feet, he fixed it with an intense stare,

“Well now... You’re a dull thing once emptied, aren’t you?” “Consider Monk Zhishen’s guidance as this world’s blessing at least!” “Hah!” With that, he kicked both barrels toward the mountain’s foot. One barrel soared into empty sky before sinking into the forest; the other plunged straight into a herd of cattle grazing below. Startled cows scattered in every direction, their lumbering bellows echoing long afterward. Zhishen clapped his hands and laughed uproariously, then staggered back to Mount Wutai caked in mud.

“Hey, you slug bastard! W-w-why won’t you let this Lu Zhishen through?” “You’re no true disciple of Buddha!” “Hey Zhishen! This is the temple gate! The temple gate!” “Ahh, so this is the famed gate of Manjushri Temple on Mount Wutai.” “Meat and alcohol are not permitted past the temple gate.” And there stood such a large prohibition sign as well. “If any monk violates the precepts by drinking alcohol, the ordinance demands forty strikes with green bamboo and expulsion from temple grounds!” “How amusing. “It’ll make for a nice massage instead.” “Hey, temple guardians! Give me a round of that!”

At that moment, having heard the commotion, everyone from temple officials—the Supervisor, Administrator, Treasurer, Bath Master—to workers of all trades from the construction site came to investigate, covered in grime. In an instant, they joined forces with the gatekeeper monks, “Ah! This defies all words! A precept-breaking degenerate like you—we won’t permit a single defiled step past this gate! Douse him with water—anything to purge this impurity!” With that, they barred Zhishen’s way, thrust back his hulking frame, and sent him tumbling down the stone steps before the temple gate. He couldn’t endure this.

“You’ve done it now...” growled Zhishen, crawling on all fours as he glared upward. Step by step he ascended slowly like an elephant. Terrified, both the monks and workers stammered and faltered as they retreated. Zhishen found it increasingly amusing. It was as though a crowd had gathered there precisely to serve as playmates for his antics.

“Here goes! I’ll pluck you lot one by one and fling you aside!”

The moment he sprang up, people went flying from his arms and legs like motes of dust. Chasing after the fleeing crowd’s screams, he stirred clamor like earthquakes and shrieks through every temple hall and courtyard—until finally entering a storehouse room and collapsing in a spreadeagle pose. His snoring shook the valleys themselves. Far from being dismayed by this, the aftermath and debate only stirred up yet another commotion. The temple monks, placing the Supervisor and Administrator at their forefront, pressed toward Abbot Zhizhen’s seat.

“Such a case has never occurred since the founding of our Manjushri Temple on Mount Wutai.” “We find no mention in Buddha’s teachings of keeping demonic beasts within sacred precincts.” “We humbly request that he be expelled immediately—such action would be most appropriate.”

“Now, now,” said Abbot Zhizhen in a tone of pure appeasement as he strove to calm them. “Don’t speak so harshly—could you not show him compassion just this once? Considering Elder Zhao’s standing as our great patron... When tomorrow comes, I shall personally admonish Zhishen sternly and ensure he mends his ways henceforth.” The clamorous discontent was overwhelming, but with a single crane-like cry from the Abbot— They could do nothing but withdraw, grumbling under their breath.

The next morning.—Zhishen sat up abruptly, made his way to the bamboo grove behind the storehouse, and was contentedly relieving himself. Just then, the Abbot summoned him, so he hurriedly followed behind and timidly crouched at his seat. “Now, Zhishen. “You truly are a troublesome fellow.” “It seems you suffer from an affliction.”

“No, but as you can see, my body is twice as sturdy as most.” “What nonsense! I say you suffer from an ailment called forgetfulness. You’ve forgotten the Five Precepts bestowed at your ordination and the Three Refuges.” “Ah. So that’s the ailment you meant.”

“Very well then.” “What do you call last night’s drunken rampage?” “Violating the temple’s sacred precepts with such behavior—” “I won’t do it again.” “Are you certain?” “And will you remember this henceforth?” “I will be cautious.” “Yes.” “I will most certainly be cautious.”

Dejectedly, Zhishen withdrew to his meditation seat. He resolved to rarely lose his temper even at whispers behind his back or open mockery, transforming into a man of few words with a face like a locked padlock.

However, as that year came to an end and the long-awaited spring of the mountains finally began to arrive in the early March of the following year, Zhishen was vacantly gazing at the sky over the foothills 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 the silver coins he had on hand into his robe, abruptly leaped out of the monks’ quarters, changed his route today to pass through the great torii gate inscribed with “Five Great Blessed Lands,” and went clattering down the eastern pilgrimage slope.

“Well now, this is quite lively indeed.” “I had no idea there was such a settlement here until today!” “Fool! Why hadn’t this drunken monk realized until now that there should be a temple town at the foot of Mount Wutai?” “But well, never mind. Even if it’s late, this drunken monk will just have to devoutly take refuge—”

He suddenly began walking with a spring in his step. His eyes darted about restlessly. There was a butcher shop, a sake shop—women’s coquettish voices, a baby’s cry, then nostalgic street performers’ music; secondhand clothing stores, greengrocers, traveler’s inns, even an old woman at the udon shop—all of it evoked memories of the outskirts of Weishui from days past, and none of it was bad at all.

“Ah, the human world really is wonderful after all.” Enveloped in the lukewarmth of the human-scented town he hadn’t felt in so long, he began absentmindedly passing through—

“Whoa.” “This is it?”

And then, he slowly entered the earthen floor of a blacksmith’s workshop. The clang, clang that had echoed all the way up to mountain peaks must have been the hammer strikes and anvil rings from this very place. The three blacksmiths who had paused their work turned their faces—blackened with soot from nostrils to eye discharge—in unison to stare at Zhishen. No, it would be more accurate to say they looked up. “Good day, Master. … Tell me—do you have any top-quality steel?” “Oh? Does the honorable monk have business with steel?”

“Don’t mock me.” “There’s no rule that says monks and steel can’t mix.” “I want you to forge me a monk’s staff.” “One that’s just right.” “I see.” “But monk, a custom order’ll cost you dearly.” “How ’bout a ready-made one?” “This drunken monk’s never seen a ready-made piece fit for these hands.” “Why not hammer one out quick?” “Make it weigh a hundred jin.” “Don’t jest.” “A hundred-jin staff ain’t meant for mortal hands!” “Even Lord Guan Yu’s guan dao from the Three Kingdoms era was eighty-one jin.”

“Then let’s settle for eighty-one jin—on par with Lord Guan Yu.” “Heh heh heh. No need to overdo it, I tell ya. You’re neither Liu Bei Xuande’s sworn man nor kin from the Three Kingdoms era, eh? Give it a rest—it’ll just be clumsy. We’ve got prime steel here instead. How ’bout a water-polished piece at sixty-two jin?” “Hmm... Guess I’ll settle there then. Done deal. Hey—come have a drink with me, Master.”

“Huh. Where might you be going?” “I’ll treat you to a drink to celebrate the forge fire. Take me to some place you know well.” “Well, please feel free to go by yourself. Instead of that, monk—the monk’s staff will cost five taels. How about at least a deposit in silver?”

“Tch.” “Don’t be stingy!” Tossing some small silver pieces, Zhishen swayed out through the blacksmith’s eaves amid the smoke. He then surveyed the town with wide, darting eyes. He peered under the eaves of two or three taverns. Everywhere without exception refused him. Having finally reached the outskirts of town, he suddenly noticed another establishment—this one with tattered eaves displaying a flag marked “Sake.” Approaching it, he found nail-scratched graffiti resembling “Li Bai in Drunken Ecstasy” on an earthen wall streaked with cow dung.

“...Hmm, that’s an interesting drawing. “Nah, I’d like to get that drunk myself just once,” Zhishen muttered as he stepped inside. “Hey, innkeeper! “This drunken monk isn’t from Mount Wutai!” “So quit your worrying.” “Give me wine.” “Right away!” “Where might you be coming from?” “A pilgrim passing through these parts.” “Not that I’m some beggarly monk.” “See? Silver’s here.” “Now hand me that big bowl there—quick!”

Gulping down the liquor as if ravenous, he swapped bowls over a dozen times in mere moments. This time, he stood up on his own, grabbed a skewer of roasted meat resembling a rabbit’s thigh from the dimly lit kitchen counter with his right hand, and started gnawing on it sideways. “Ah, Brother Pilgrim! You can’t do that! It’s not suitable for a monk like you!” “Innkeeper. Why are you stopping me?” “It is dog meat, sir. That’s really too much!” “What’s this about dog meat?! No, it’s fine. There’s no reason to despise it just because it’s dog. This monk’s belly is none other than Maitreya—whether it’s monkey or deer, I regard them all equally. How could there be discrimination? Perfectly acceptable! This isn’t bad at all, old man!”

Coated in garlic miso, he promptly tossed the bare bones at his feet and grabbed the next skewer. “Just side dishes won’t do.” “Hey, bring that whole bottle over here and set it down.” “That’s Huangmi wine, isn’t it?” “Hmm, excellent, excellent!” Before long, as dusk approached, Zhishen drifted back toward Mount Wutai with celestial nonchalance—staggering like a cloud descending from heaven only to return skyward. Whenever he nearly collided with passersby, he scattered roaring laughter at their panicked scrambling.

“Bwahahaha!” “Make way, make way for Master Zhishen!” “There’s a saying that even His Majesty the Emperor yields the way to a drunkard—don’t you know it?” “Make way, make way!”

The next morning. That said, over the western peaks of Mount Wutai’s Five Peaks, the pale shadow of the waning moon still lingered, while on the ground, the rustling pine forest only just began to brighten the area.

“Brr, it’s cold... Hmm? Wait.” “Why was this drunken monk sleeping in such a place?”

Lu Zhishen, doubting himself, sat up abruptly. No wonder it was cold—he must have been sleeping on stone pavement. Moreover, what he had been embracing in his sleep was a giant Nio statue twice his size. It was unmistakably the Nio statue from the temple gate. When he suddenly looked up, the Nio gate he usually saw there lay utterly destroyed as if a typhoon had struck, and the other Nio statue was nowhere to be seen in its usual place. As the area gradually brightened, he realized that fragments of Nio statues’ hands and heads, along with tiles and pieces of jeweled fences, lay scattered in a ghastly state around him.

Then, one of the monk guards came there and shouted. “Oi, Zhishen! “Finally awake, have you?” “The abbot and the others are waiting reverently.” “Proceed immediately to the corridor of the main hall!”

He still seemed unclear-headed. He staggered off. When he looked, there in the corridor of the main hall stood Abbot Zhizhen with all monastic officials arrayed in unaccustomed solemnity. The moment they saw him, the Chief Administrator rose from his seat: “Now listen here, Zhishen, and heed this well.” “Last night, you not only descended again to the foothills to violate the alcohol precept and return drunkenly to the mountain, but at the temple gate—true to form—you wielded violent strength, injuring over a dozen monk guards and laymen. Worse still, you dragged down and shattered our Manjushri Temple’s treasured Nio statues, then urinated upon them while bellowing in delight—acts of utter lawlessness culminating in your sleeping there until dawn.” “All of this constitutes inexcusable conduct.” “Therefore, in the name of the entire monastic assembly and with the Venerable Abbot’s sanction, we hereby decree your immediate expulsion from our sacred precincts.”

With contained anger, he pronounced. Zhishen had been listening as if it were someone else’s business until about halfway through, but finally realized he himself was the one in question, “Huh?! Did I do such things? This Zhishen did?!”

Then the monastic officials—the Chief Administrator, Secretary, Head Monk, and Supervisor—all cursed in unison. "How dare you wear such a shameless face! Just look at the monk quarters over there—those whose limbs you crushed lie laid out side by side, groaning in pain!" "Not only that! Between the temple town and mountainside path, you smashed the viewing pavilion to splinters, and whenever you spotted young women nearby, you chased them about like a wolf pursuing chickens!"

“If we were to list each offense, there’d be no end to it.” “After perpetrating such shameful deeds, how dare you act so clueless now?” Zhishen found no retort. He withdrew silently from the scene, only to be summoned once more by Abbot Zhizhen. “This outcome was inevitable,” “Keeping you here any longer would only burden your patron Elder Zhao with greater disgrace.” “Let this understanding guide your obedient departure.” Before him lay indigo leg wrappings and arm guards, a thin monastic robe, a pair of cloth shoes, and an alms offering of ten silver taels.

Zhishen let fall a single tear. And then, cat-like. "I truly... I can't begin to express my apologies." "Even I myself am now at a loss with my own self. Not that I feel like hanging this neck either—but just how is this Lu Zhishen supposed to go on living?" "Tell me, Venerable." Abbot Zhizhen closed his eyes for a long time—perhaps composing some familiar verse within his heart—and murmured a Buddhist hymn. "...When you encounter forests, rise; when you meet mountains, prosper; when you find waters, thrive; when you reach rivers, cease." "...These four encounters' transformations are the karmic burden borne by the stars within you." "Lu Zhishen—first live as you live; go as you go."

“Understood.” “Then I’ll do just that.”

“First and foremost, it would be troublesome if you had nowhere to settle.” “My junior fellow disciple has recently been at Daxiangguo Temple in Kaifeng’s Eastern Capital, where he is revered as Chán Master Zhìqīng by all.” “Take this letter of introduction and go to Daxiangguo Temple—you would do well to seek refuge with the Chán Master.” “I am truly grateful for everything you’ve done.” “How loath I am to part, but...”

When he bowed his head solemnly, the attendant monks all chuckled. “What’s there to miss…?” they must have thought, breathing sighs of relief at his departure.

Now.—That day.

Zhishen dejectedly made his way down to the foothill town. And then, he lodged at the traveler’s inn next to the blacksmith’s shop. He waited for the monk’s staff he had previously ordered from the blacksmith to be completed. And then, after about half a month, its craftsmanship came into view. The sixty-two-jin water-polished monk’s staff was of superb quality. “Good! As long as I have this one staff, all the mountains, rivers, plants, and trees under heaven shall be my followers.” He instantly swept away the gloom of recent days from his brow, assumed an air of great satisfaction, and promptly set out for Kaifeng’s Eastern Capital.

Departing from Peach Blossom Village—where brides have hair upon their navels—

The Encounter with Nine-Tattooed Dragon at Withered Forest Gakan Temple The strange wanderer Lu Zhishen had often bedded down in mountains and pillowed his head in fields. Perhaps because the wild beasts and birds of prey feared him, wherever his sleeping form and thunderous snores lay, the place would transform into a nocturnal paradise, free from any harm. Truth be told, Zhishen carried neither a scrap of food nor an ounce of silver—what profit could attackers gain by ambushing such a destitute soul? That evening found him hollow-bellied yet again, trudging at last into a mountain village.

“Well now, this place sure is thick with peaches.” “The blossoms are at their peak.” “Right then—tonight I’ll bed down in that grove and fancy myself dreaming of Wuling Taoyuan.”

——Then, a crane-like old man. As he was about to enter the peach grove, [the old man] emerged from beside it.

“Excuse me, O traveling monk. This evening our household has pressing matters to attend to, and it would be ill-advised for you to suffer any unforeseen injuries here. If you please, would you go elsewhere to rest?”

“Who are you?”

"I am the head of the old-established Liu household here in Peach Blossom Village—" “What’s wrong? Even for an old man, you’ve got a face like clay—looks like you’re about to burst into tears any moment.” When questioned, Elder Liu had already begun sobbing bitterly in earnest. When pressed to explain—"Well..."—it turned out that tonight was supposed to be his beloved daughter’s wedding evening. “What? A wedding for your only daughter?” Things were growing increasingly suspicious. With his curiosity now piqued, he tried to dig out further details.

When Lu Zhishen listened to the old man’s account, it turned out that a band of bandits—whom even the Qingzhou county military in this region had been struggling to subdue—were now residing deep within Taohua Mountain.

The groom for my beloved daughter was a man named Zhou Tong—who claims to be the sworn younger brother of that bandit chieftain—and it was never our intention to offer her in marriage from our side. “When the peach blossoms bloom, I’ll come for the wedding.” “I’ll send envoys down from the mountain beforehand, but on the wedding night—groom her well, prepare the feast and wine without fail, and see that everything’s done up proper and fancy!” It turned out that they had already received Zhou Tong’s advance notice. And they trembled at the thought that if they were to defy this, Peach Blossom Village would be burned to the ground overnight or face wholesale slaughter.

“Ahahahaha! In this day and age, there’s still someone using such antiquated methods!” “Very well.” “So those Taohua Mountain bandits will come forcing themselves as bridegrooms at midnight, eh?” “Old Liu, don’t fret.” “...Even so...” “Truth be told, I am one called Lu who formerly served as a provincial marshal in Weishui.” “Such judgments are my specialty.” “Take me to your daughter’s chamber at once.” “My daughter has been weeping without cease since yesterday—she’s in no state to receive anyone.”

“No need for her to meet me. “Hide your daughter somewhere quickly.” “And I’ll take the bride’s place—lie down on the bed with the curtains drawn. When that bandit Zhou Tong arrives, put on a grand feast, get him thoroughly drunk, then bring him here. …No—waiting alone in the bridal chamber till then would bore me stiff.” “And don’t forget to bring wine to the bridal chamber too.” Elder Liu was more fearful than hesitant. However, when a large number of clan members arrived and gradually listened to Zhishen’s persuasion—like a blind turtle finding 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 ate his fill and was now fast asleep…

However, he occasionally woke up. What time was it now? Outside, perhaps because the groom’s procession had arrived, came the sounds of copper gongs and drums. And now the lively strains of groom-welcoming folk songs began echoing through the night. “……Hmm, looks like the feast is about to begin.” He had been aware up to that point, but it seemed he had fallen soundly asleep again at some point. The night deepened with an eerie stillness, and even as a shadow like the Demon King himself swayed its way to the chamber’s threshold—guided by crimson candlelight—he remained utterly unaware.

Someone who appeared to be Elder Liu lowered his voice there, “...Well then, Honored Bridegroom. Then I shall take my leave here.” Eventually, he clomped back. After confirming the receding footsteps, the bandit Zhou Tong slipped into the room.

“Hmm? It’s pitch black in here... Ah-ha! Could it be you’re feeling shy?” Muttering to himself, Zhou Tong groped his way toward the bridal bed. And then—Huh? Had he thought something along those lines? “Damn, it reeks of booze in here.” “Hmm, I see.” “In the bridal chamber, it’s customary for the family to have an evening drinking party—that must be why. …There we go, daughter… no, bride.” “There’s no need to act so bashful.”

In truth, it was Zhou Tong who felt slightly bashful. Uncharacteristically stealthy, he slipped inside the canopy and reached his hand beneath the bridal robes. Then, something strange grated against his hand. It seemed to be a navel, but there was hair growing on it. “Ah! You pulled a switch on me!” With a thud as he fell off the bed, Zhishen finally opened his eyes. He sprang up still clad in the bridal robes, “Wait, Bridegroom! You’d abandon your bride? How heartless!” he shouted, giving chase into the peach grove behind the house.

Zhou Tong untied his horse from the willow tree and fled headlong, using a willow branch as a whip. Zhishen likewise leaped onto one of his men's horses and gave chase—this pursuit went smoothly enough, but the commotion that ensued at the Liu household defied description. The remaining underlings, sensing something amiss, bound Elder Liu and dragged him back to Peach Blossom Mountain's bandits' gate by morning. Yet against all expectations, there at the bandits' gate sat the bandit leader and Lu Zhishen laughing together as they exchanged drinks. And what should appear beside them but last night's would-be groom—the bandit leader's subordinate Zhou Tong—utterly dejected with his head hung low?

“Well, well, Elder Liu. Poor thing—did they drag you here?” “Hey, Bridegroom! Untie the old man’s ropes already!” Lu Zhishen guffawed and laid out the entire affair.

Last night, when I cornered my opponent and came to this gate... The bandit leader who came to aid his subordinate turned out to be none other than that plaster seller from Wei River town—the Tiger-Subduing General Li Zhong himself.

“What fools you are, squatting here as petty bandits like this! You lot can’t even begin to imagine how much more respectable that plaster-selling gig was compared to this!”

And so he continued admonishing them even now. Yet perhaps this lifestyle—for both the Tiger-Subduing General Li Zhong and his sworn brother Zhou Tong—was what truly suited their natures after all. Outwardly they maintained pious compliance. "No, truly—we'll never lay hands on Liu's daughter again."

They had sworn as much, but their sincerity seemed dubious. When Zhishen flashed a hint of white teeth, Li Zhong pressed his advantage: "The reason I sold my Wei River lands and took to the road, Zhishen—truth be told, you're to blame." "After you beat Zheng of Guanxi Five Routes to death, the officials' claws reached even us—started tossing everyone into cells willy-nilly." "Because of that mess, not only did I abandon Wei River—Shi Jin vanished without a trace too! Didn't he?"

“I see. Now that you mention it, I suppose I do bear some responsibility.” “But enough already with these stale amateurish threats of snatching maidens and penny-ante crimes—quit that.” “If you’re gonna act, have some manly ambition.” “Aim for a grand dream!”

That said, Zhishen must have deemed it unnecessary to stay long. Once more, he made the two men swear an oath not to take revenge against the Liu family or Taohua Village, and when he saw them snap an arrow in a bandit’s pledge of brotherhood, he sent Elder Liu back to his village and then drifted away from this place himself, as light as a feather.

And so, as he continued his journey toward Tokyo—layer upon layer of travels—he unexpectedly stopped at this desolate temple called Waguan Temple, nestled among jagged, monstrous peaks, to take shelter from a night’s rain and dew. There, he witnessed forms of humanity that should not exist in this world.

“Hmm...” “When this was first built—with imperial envoys coming through, a whole mountain’s worth of monks filling its halls, incense smoke swirling about golden brocade—it must’ve been something magnificent.” “To think it’s been left to rot like this.”

When Zhishen stepped into the grounds of Waguan Temple, even he—accustomed to hardship—stood dumbfounded by the desolate scene.

The bell towers and halls crumbled unchecked; even within the main hall, it appeared to have become a haven for sparrows. Peering inside, he saw the Kannon statue entangled in creeping vines, and a gaping hole in the roof. The footprints there—whether from foxes or raccoon dogs—along with the bird droppings and animal feces, all seemed like things from another world.

“Hey! Ain’t there any people here? Ain’t there anyone living here?”

Then from the depths emerged an old monk—little more than skin and bones—who stood unsteadily, “Oh... A wandering monk. “We’ve no provisions here to lodge travelers.” “Be off with you now! Off!”

“What? No provisions?” “What’s that smoke coming from the kitchen?” “After all, your food must be alms received from the village.” “I’m hungry too.” “I’d like to have some of that temple fare.” “Don’t be absurd.” “Even we can barely sustain our meager existence.” “Keep shouting like that, monk, and your hide’ll get flayed right off.” “Now scram—quickly.” “You’re dead set on driving me out?” “Or just putting on airs for someone’s sake?”

“Here dwells an evil monk named Cui Daocheng and a wicked acolyte called Qiu Xiaoyi who act like they own the place... We’ve had our temple seized by those two and barely survive by sipping millet gruel.” “Hmph. “Cui and Qiu.” “You’re scared of those puny things?” “Anyway, tell me more about it.” “In return, This drunken monk will treat you to a bowl of millet gruel over there.” When he went around to the kitchen, there in the dimness surrounding a red fire that looked like a crematory kiln, emaciated monks resembling skeletons were noisily devouring gruel.

When Zhishen reached for the pot, they cowered into the corner. And as Zhishen gulped down two or three bowls, they stared resentfully, tears streaming down their faces. Even Zhishen found this impossible to stomach. Though his stomach was empty, he resentfully threw down the chipped bowl halfway through. —When suddenly, from outside, there came the sound of a country song—yet sung in a surprisingly refined voice. When he looked, a young man dressed like an acolyte passed by, carrying a load on a carrying pole. Inside the bamboo basket were pinkish beef laid upon lotus leaves, along with wine and vegetables. Zhishen’s eyes gleamed.

“That guy? The one who’s made a nest in this temple and doesn’t let you eat a thing—” “Yes, that’s Qiu Xiaoyi—the one they call the Flying Night Demon.” “So there’s another one—that so-called monk Cui Daocheng—huh?” “Right then! That beef I just saw—I’ll take it for myself!”

“Stop that! If you do such a thing... you won’t keep your life for long! Not only that—who knows what horrors we’ll suffer too!” “Wahahaha! What’re you trembling for? Just watch me. I’ll give each of you a piece of meat tonight!” Like a leopard, Lu Zhishen leapt out. In his hand gleamed a newly forged monk’s staff, its steel still reeking of the smithy’s fire. Unaware of this, the acolyte Qiu Xiaoyi reached what seemed to be the old abbot’s garden, set down his load, and began chatting and laughing with two men who had been waiting there. Beneath a large locust tree where a table had been set up, Cui Daocheng sat with a young woman in his embrace.

With the woman wedged between them, were they about to commence their drinking revelry? They began arranging ceramic vessels and cups upon the table. Just then, Lu Zhishen came lumbering closer.

“Hah! Ain’t you that wandering monk? Who gave you permission to come here?” “Am I not allowed to come? Wait! You there, woman! You’re probably some wife or daughter snatched from your village. It’s dangerous—get back!” “What’s so dangerous?” There, evil met evil. Their gazes clashed like lightning. The moment Cui seemed to rise, a blade like flowing water shot from his hand, grazing three inches from Zhishen’s chest. No need to dodge. Zhishen’s monk staff whirled toward Qiu Xiaoyi at his side. Qiu stepped back and drew his waist blade with equal flair. In fighting spirit and piercing gaze, neither seemed inferior to Zhishen.

But Zhishen was one who feared nothing. Moreover, he had never once been caught off guard—not even once. A roar erupted from his entire being—something he hadn't done in ages. --A commanding stance.

Inch by relentless inch, the tips of two blades closed in on him from both sides. As if eyes were attached to their blades' points, they missed not even a hair's breadth of Zhishen's movement. "Hmm...?" Zhishen began sweating faintly. "Is it because I'm hungry?" No—that wasn't it. Was this what they called sword aura? A kind of vital energy was binding him like spiritual shackles. At last Zhishen started holding himself back.

“Good heavens, this isn’t good. Seems they’re unusually tough!” With battle-shattering force, he swung his monk’s staff; Qiu Xiaoyi’s figure leapt into the air to brandish a crescent blade, while Cui Daocheng glided low to sweep his sword sideways. One high, one low—they clashed dozens of times with furious cries, yet neither side had shed a drop of blood. Tracing a dark whirlwind between them, they returned instantly to their original three-way deadlock, glaring. Eventually, it was Lu Zhishen who tired. True, his stomach was empty—but these were also the strongest foes he’d ever faced. He staggered back under their pressure. At last, even he seemed to recognize his limits. Whirling around, he fled. The very bulk that made him imposing rendered his retreat absurdly comical.

Like a human torch that refused to stop rolling, he leapt through the mountain gate, raced down the road, crossed the stone bridge, and turned around with a relieved gasp—only to find Cui Daocheng and Qiu Xiaoyi, who had pursued him, now perched on the bridge's railing as if declaring it their checkpoint. “Come now, Wandering Monk,” “Catch your breath, then come at us again!” They rested with cool expressions that needed no words to convey their challenge. Zhishen watched them from behind cover,

"Well," he reflected. "The world truly is vast." With monsters like that about," he mused further,"even this drunken monk must do some soul-searching." "It’s regrettable," he conceded inwardly,"but this one will have to yield here." "If this oaf goes back now," he grimaced,"it'll be a dog’s death." "...Wait." His eyes widened."This is bad!" When he checked himself,the crucial monk’s satchel hung nowhere on his frame.He panicked momentarily,fearing he’d dropped it,but upon reflection recalled removing it earlier—back in the monastery kitchen while clumsily spilling millet porridge during that hasty meal.

"This is trouble," he thought. "That satchel contains Elder Zhizhen's letter addressed to Zen Master Zhijing of Dai Xiangguo Temple. If I go back for it now, they'll nab me at the stone bridge. But heading to Tokyo without it would make the whole journey pointless." He started skulking about, looking for any route back that avoided crossing the stone bridge. His search revealed a path descending into a ravine. By sinking into its depths and scaling up the far side, he emerged north of Waguan Temple.

The area was a red pine forest. Walk as he might, there seemed to be nothing but red pines. Yet before long, he suddenly emerged into what resembled a forest of death. Perhaps these were the ancient burned ruins of a temple complex. As far as the eye could see stretched a withered grove—not a speck of green remained. Then at his footsteps, a white-robed figure abruptly rose from a nearby rock shadow and turned toward him. Just as he thought this pale form might approach him amiably, it looked at him and—

“Tch. You damn monk?” With a tongue click that threatened to become actual spit, he wove through the withered trees without looking back. Zhishen bristled at that spit-laden cluck of contempt. In one bound he gave chase, monk’s staff held horizontal.

“Hey! Wait! Why’d you mock me just now?” “Wasn’t mockin’—just called you a damn monk.” “There’s nobody else here. You were talkin’ ’bout me.” “Think whatever ya want.” “Probably right.” “Haven’t seen any real monks ’round here lately anyway.”

His speech carried crisp clarity, and his figure cut a clean silhouette. The white robes marked him as a wandering ascetic. Perhaps he numbered among Qiu Xiaoyi's cohorts.

The sun was sinking. The man—perhaps hurrying toward some ruined temple in the distance—snorted derisively once more and began walking away. Perhaps thinking to target that opening, Zhishen suddenly— “Ha!” He opened his crimson mouth. Under the swung-down monk’s staff, the white-clad man mistook it for crimson. However, the man had nimbly shifted sideways. He quietly reached for the ritual knife at his waist, “Monk! Don’t you underestimate me. “I ain’t no god of death.” “Taking my life won’t do you any good.”

“W-what’s with this impudence?!” His opponent didn’t wait for the next swing of the monk’s staff either. It was a speed that showed no hint of drawing. Had the swung monk’s staff not been blocked diagonally at Lu Zhishen’s forehead, he might have ended up as cleanly split as a melon. Zhishen jumped back and regripped his monk’s staff.

Then, from eyes that peered through the dusk and the utterly still spine of a ritual knife, a calm voice carried through.

“Hey! Hold it.” “Wait!” “Scared now, monk?” “No, I’ve been thinking about something since earlier. Could it be... you’re Commander Lu?” “Huh? Who are you who knows of this drunken monk’s former life?”

“Whew, that was close…” The ascetic immediately sheathed his ritual knife and strode briskly closer, bringing his face near. “It’s Shi Jin.” “It’s me—Nine-Tattooed Dragon Shi Jin, who parted with you at the Wei River.” “I’m in a sorry state myself, but hell—with how much you’ve changed, even if we’d crossed paths, I wouldn’t have recognized you.” “From Commander to monk—now that’s one hell of a transformation!”

The vegetable garden guard loves his fellow vermin.

Under the willow shade, the sake stall beckoned to passing Imperial Guards. “Well! This is quite a chance encounter.” “Well, when it comes to folks—you never know where you’ll part or where you’ll meet again.”

Lu Zhishen spoke.—and Nine-Tattooed Dragon Shi Jin likewise took endless delight in this chance encounter, seeing it as a fated connection. And so, arm in arm, they began walking back toward Waguan Temple. Along the way, Zhishen told his friend of how he had abruptly become a monk—the Flower Monk—while Nine-Tattooed Dragon explained that after leaving the Wei River, he had wandered through Yan’an and Beijing without ever encountering his sought-after mentor Wang Jin, thus coming to take temporary shelter from the elements at this ruined temple in the withered woods.

“I see.” “We’ve both been tossed between winds and waves—I’d say our fortunes are much the same.” “However, I’m heading to Daxiangguo Temple in Tokyo next—but Shi Jin, what’ll you do?” “Playing the wandering monk here was just a temporary way to scrape by—with no immediate prospects, I’d been thinking of heading to Shao Hua Mountain where I hear Zhu Wu’s holed up.” “That might not be a bad idea. After all, in this rotten, decaying end-times world like today’s, we who were born contrary by nature can’t even be serious—it’ll only get harder to live here…” “W-wait, hold on a second.” “They’re still resisting!”

“What’s this, Flower Monk?” “Look! Abbot Cui and that ascetic Qiu Xiaoyi—the ones who tormented me earlier—still stubbornly keep watch over there on the stone bridge’s railing.” “Hahaha! So it’s those Waguan Temple villains.” “Flower Monk! This time, there’s no need for you to hold back.” “Not with Nine-Tattooed Dragon here to back you up.” Even as they spoke, Ascetic Qiu and Abbot Cui on the distant stone bridge had already spotted them. Though seen from afar, their eyes blazed fiercely as they poised to charge forward, weapons at the ready.

But this time was different from when Zhishen had faced them alone before. Pitifully shortsighted, they soon charged in of their own accord—only to swiftly meet their wretched ends under Nine-Tattooed Dragon’s ritual knife and Zhishen’s monk’s staff.

“Right! Once we’ve finished off these scoundrels, we must go retrieve that crucial monk’s satchel I left in the temple kitchen without delay.” “Shi Jin—will you wait here for me?” “No—I’m coming with you.”

When they returned, fortunately, the monk’s satchel remained untouched. Yet the elderly monks who had been clinging to their meager existences here, along with a woman of unknown circumstances—all now hung lifeless from the beams by their necks. They had likely learned how Zhishen had earlier been driven off by Cui and Qiu after suffering defeat; in their terror of what fresh horrors might await them next, coupled with despair at enduring this wretched world any longer, they must have chosen death.

“Ah, they’ve all gone and done it.” “…They’ve done something truly pitiful.” “But don’t you Buddhas get lost now—this ain’t this drunken monk’s fault!” Unusually, Zhishen performed an unusual prayer gesture and recited a half-remembered sutra. Seeing this, Nine-Tattooed Dragon spoke up from beside him. “When temples fail to serve as temples and become perfect demonic lairs for villains, this is what happens.” “Might as well burn it all down—it’ll be better for what’s to come.”

“Right! Let’s cremate everything to console the spirits of the dead, and then we’ll descend from this mountain.”

In the kiln of the porridge pot that the dead had been scrambling over moments earlier, there still lingered a smoldering fire like will-o’-the-wisp. Zhishen took flames from the firewood and set the temple kitchen ablaze.

And then the two men steadily descended the evening mountain path toward the foothills. “Oh, Flower Monk! Do you see those crimson lotuses upon the mountaintop?” The two turned around.—The entire sky rained down sparks of fire from a beautiful umbrella of flames. In the early years of the Song Dynasty, Waguan Temple—that famed sanctuary where purple-cloud incense and monastery bells still shone over mortal worship—now, after a century of weathering rain and dew, saw its Dharma lamps perishing everywhere alongside the disorder of political altars; it cast its unsparing final radiance into the world’s darkness.

Zhishen and Nine-Tattooed Dragon then traveled together for about two days’ journey until they reached the fork where Huazhou met Kaifeng Road; there, pledging to meet again, they parted ways.

—Now then.

One party, before many days had passed, arrived at the floral capital of the age—Kaifeng Tokyo—and promptly visited Great Zen Master Zhiqing at the mountain gate of Daxiangguo Temple,

“This humble monk is Zhishen, a disciple of Wutai Mountain,” he said. “I have come bearing a letter from my master Elder Zhizhen, who instructed me to train under the Zen Master of this temple. I humbly request your assistance in this matter.” With that, he took out Elder Zhizhen’s letter from his monk’s satchel, handed it to the duty monk, then sat in the main hall awaiting their decision. “Hmm,” murmured Zen Master Zhiqing as he read. “So Elder Zhizhen of Wutai Mountain has sent us quite the character.”

“Elder Zhizhen of Wutai Mountain has sent quite the character our way.” Zen Master Zhiqing of Daxiangguo Temple read Zhishen’s background in the letter and wore an exasperated look, yet couldn’t help but feel a strange interest—something peculiar to Zen practitioners, or so one might say. Among monks’ past lives, there were certainly many unusual ones, but someone like Zhishen was truly a rarity. ——A former military police officer from the Weizhou Military Commissioner’s Office. He possessed a chivalrous spirit yet was fond of brawls and drink. Moreover, it stated he was a man who had shaved his head due to a prior murder conviction.

"He’s likely someone even Wutai Mountain couldn’t handle," Zhiqing mused, "but Zhizhen has been my dharma friend for years. If I refuse him now, that old monk would surely mock me as a small-minded Zen practitioner." "...Now then—what should I do?"

He gathered all the duty monks and put the matter to a council. "The visiting traveling monk cannot by any means be accepted into the monastic order." "He is truly an imposing figure." "First off, his countenance leaves much to be desired." "There's an unsettling ferocity about him." "Moreover, when the reception monk greeted him, he clearly lacked understanding of Zen decorum—fumbling awkwardly with the incense vessels, sitting mats, monastic robes, and other implements he carried." "It would be wisest if we were to firmly decline him—for the sake of our temple’s welfare."

Voices clashed in discord. Not a single one welcomed him. Zen Master Zhiqing was at his wit’s end.—Then the chief temple administrator (a monastic position) proposed an ingenious plan. “As they say about fools and scissors—they’re only good for what they’re suited to. Such a person might unexpectedly prove well-suited to managing our temple’s vegetable garden.”

“I see, I see. Having him serve as overseer of the vegetable garden might prove acceptable.”

“You see, that vegetable garden outside Suanzao Gate is frightfully vast. “Moreover, soldiers from nearby barracks come pillaging, but worse still is that den of scoundrels beyond the gate. “Year-round they breach our walls to brazenly steal melons and root crops—why, they’ll even make off with our plow horses and oxen before you know it. “...Yet neither our guards nor mountain monks dare utter a word against them. “After all—those wretches are downright vicious.”

“That’s a brilliant plan.” “How about it, Zen Master?” “As for this wandering Lu Zhishen fellow, why not have him try overseeing the vegetable garden first and see how he manages?” “Hmm. If this aligns with the council’s unanimous opinion…”

By the decision of the entire temple community, the chief monk promptly conveyed this directive to Zhishen. Zhishen wore a sullen expression. Even if only as a low-ranking monk like an abbot or bath supervisor, it seemed he had hoped to hold at least some minor position within the monastic hierarchy.

“Now, now—in time, through dedicated practice, you may gradually ascend to higher positions such as Tea Master, Hall Master, Storehouse Master, or Temple Supervisor.” “But for now, you’ll begin with the vegetable garden.”

Coaxed and flattered into reluctant compliance, Zhishen was transferred to the fields outside Suanzao Gate. Titles like “Management Office” and “Vegetable Garden Overseer” might sound impressive, but upon arrival, it turned out to be nothing more than a large guard hut for field watchmen. “...Screw this,” he muttered. “Alright! If they think they can use me as some scarecrow here, I won’t let them interfere with how I live!” With that declaration, Flower Monk Lu Zhishen settled into his own brand of “wild self-sufficiency,” carrying himself like a great landowner of these parts.

Before many days had passed, an unsettling shift took hold in the air of the nearby thug-infested district. The guy who ventured into the field to raid it as usual returned to their nest and spread the word.

“Hey, let’s go check it out. "The guards got replaced." “This new guy’s some scary monk with a face like a knobby taro root.” “Plus he went and stuck some fancy-ass notice on the gate!” “What’s changed?” “C’mon, let’s get a look at this bastard’s mug.” “And what’s this notice crap about?” The gang of layabouts clustered around the notice post. The text declared: ――Henceforth, this temple appoints its monk Lu Zhishen to manage the vegetable garden. The directives for cultivators and all hundred vegetables for the kitchen shall be entrusted to the aforementioned individual.

Furthermore, unauthorized persons shall not enter. If violated, they shall be met with punishment. There shall be no mercy. Daxiangguo Temple Administrative Office

“What the hell—it’s just the same old threats.” “Let’s go pay that bastard Lu Zhishen a visit.” “…Is he even in the guard hut?” “He’s there! He’s there!” “What’s that bastard doin’? Sitting there with his belly hangin’ out, hummin’ away with that empty look on his face.” “Heh heh heh.” “The bastard’s scared shitless of us boys.” “Creepin’ up all quiet-like in a mob like this—no wonder he’s playin’ dumb.” “But if we don’t throw some dirt on ’im first, that bastard might start thinkin’ we’re pushovers.” “How ’bout it? Let’s make ’im taste the same trick we pull every time they change guards.”

“Hmm... A manure-pit baptism, eh?” “Once we treat him to that trick, it’ll knock the fight out of any bastard.” “Alright, let’s do it.” “Don’t any of you falter now!” The ruffians swarmed closer with fidgeting steps and ulterior motives. Whether he noticed them or not, Zhishen let out a great yawn; no sooner had he descended the ladder from the elevated guardhouse than he lumbered off toward the fields.

“Ah, hey there. Wouldn’t you be the honorable guard monk who’s taken over recently?” Li Si the Green Grass Snake and Zhang San the Winding Road Rat had twenty or thirty of their companions hold back behind them as they bowed slightly before Zhishen. And to emphasize their fearsomeness, they invoked their gambler’s code of honor without regard for propriety.

“Well now, we’re just some good-natured lads living nearby,” they said. “After seeing that notice about the guardhouse monk changing hands, we came to make your acquaintance.” “We humbly ask for your kind favor.” “What’s this?” Zhishen said, his eyes widening. “I thought some back-alley funeral procession had taken a wrong turn and wandered in here.” “Hmph, heh heh.” “What an amusing thing to say.” “Hey everyone!” “This guard monk here seems reasonable.” “Come out and greet him proper—a proper greeting now!”

“No need, no need. “No need for such cheap bows. “But if you’re here to make nice, you should’ve brought wine.”

“Well now, we’re much obliged. “Regarding this matter of establishing relations—truth be told, the proper custom’s actually for you to extend the first courtesy to us lowly folk.” “Let’s not have any o’ that boorish talk now.” “Hey! Gan’pi!” Zhang barked at one of his comrades. “How ’bout that—he’s one cool monk, ain’t he?” “He’s agreed to drink with us right away.” “Dash over to the town’s wine shop an’ butcher shop an’ get our orders sorted out, ain’t ya?”

“On it!” Immediately, two or three of them scrambled off. At that signal, the gang members—having exchanged knowing glances—surrounded Zhishen and, under various pretexts, gradually lured him toward the edge of the ridge where a large manure pit lay. Zhishen noticed neither that this was their scheme nor that directly behind where he stood lay a manure pit. At a glance, the entire surface of the manure pit swarmed with layer upon layer of flies—so densely packed they resembled a thick carpet of black soybeans—that neither the pit’s true color nor its stench could be perceived. And so Zhishen simply forgot his boredom in their funny faces and foolish talk, mindlessly amusing himself along with them.

Then, one of the gang members let out a shrill cry, “Ah! There’s a huge horsefly on your ankle, Monk!” Suddenly crawling toward his feet and pretending to swat a horsefly, he tried to seize one of his legs. If pulled up, he’d inevitably somersault into the manure pit behind them. Zhishen twisted his body reflexively. Having kicked the man away, he instantly turned toward another punk who had entangled his other leg and swung a slap at the side of his face— “Wham!”

and delivered a slap as if striking a child’s cheek. How could they withstand it? The two bodies leapt harmoniously into the manure pit. In an instant. A wail... A bell-like groan arose, and flies swarmed up to fill heaven and earth, so that even the sun in the sky grew dim. “Now—crush ’im!” But their shouts were all bark and no bite. What had seemed to swarm over Zhishen’s body differed not a whit from a dizzying whirlwind of flies that vanished in an instant. Zhishen had already returned to the elevated platform of the guardhouse,

“Ahahaha! Wahahaha!” he doubled over with laughter all by himself. How had they managed to fish out their submerged punks from the manure pit and drag them home? Just imagining it was amusing to Zhishen. He had thought this field guard duty to be an utterly tedious role, but an unexpectedly fine spectacle had been found nearby. How delightful are the creatures of this world! Let those vegetable-stealing scoundrels come sneaking in now and then. “At times, even Zhishen was not without a Buddha’s heart”—and so from that day forth, he found himself eagerly awaiting their appearances each day, rather than dreading them.

But for the gang members of the rogue district, far from that, they were holding all manner of furtive councils in dimly lit rooms with brows knit in deliberation. “Alright everyone, get your act together! “I thought this guard monk’s melon-shaped head looked different from the past melon heads—turns out what’s inside’s a bit different too. “Can’t we come up with some plan to smash him to bits just once?”

It was over ten days later. Perhaps concealing a meticulously crafted scheme, Snake Li and Rat Zhang came to the guardhouse to apologize. "...Our underlings' mischief the other day. We were utterly blind to your eminence," they declared with utmost solemnity, kowtowing deeply as they humbly proposed presenting a toast. The groundwork was laid, and with the opportune timing of the sweltering heat leaving Zhishen thoroughly drenched in sweat, he accepted their invitation without a second thought. When he followed them out and looked, there by the garden reservoir's edge—in the cool shade of willow trees—mats were spread, wine jars prepared, and baskets filled with meat dishes and fruits, while twenty or thirty of those usual riffraff waited in fearful reverence. They bowed their heads in unison,

“Hear! From this day forth, we wretched ones shall never again raid the fields. Should any need arise in your esteemed garden, we pledge to perform whatever tasks required. We humbly beg you to regard us henceforth as your dutiful field hands.” “Manners today? Unusually refined,” Zhishen remarked. “Bah—’tis but a vegetable patch even the temple can’t deplete.” “Take what you will—in moderation.” “Only mind you pay this monk his due tribute now and then.” Zhishen drank without restraint and devoured heartily. The thugs gaped at his prodigious capacity for wine, scurrying thrice to replenish their stores.

“...Hmm? What’s this now?”

He finally noticed. Onto his shoulders and head, something would occasionally drop with a soft plop from the willow tree above. Rubbing it around with his hand had been a mistake. Whether herons or crows or what have you—it was unmistakably bird droppings.

“Tch…” “There’s no foe more vexing than one who’s no proper foe at all!” Zhishen muttered this to himself and shifted his seat slightly. The revelers—singing ones, hand-clapping ones, all that riffraff—continued their boisterous merrymaking. Then once more from the willow’s leafy canopy above, crows erupted in raucous cawing. To compound matters, straw-like debris came spilling anew from Zhishen’s collar down to his wine-cupped hand. Zhishen’s temper flared as he sprang upright.

“Enough of this racket! It seems this demon willow harbors a crow’s nest.” “We beg your pardon, Monk. We’ll fetch a ladder at once to remove the nest—please wait but a moment.” “What need for such bother? These crows belong to the field-raiding bunch too. This is how we handle them!” Agh! The gang members gasped involuntarily—for Zhishen had stripped off his monastic robes, baring his skin. Their eyes must have been helplessly drawn to the riotous floral tattoos covering his wine-soaked body, completely mesmerized.

But their astonishment wasn’t limited to that alone. Zhishen embraced the large willow trunk and tilted his upper body slightly backward, causing the soil around the roots to groan and shift. With a guttural “Ugh!”, heat waves rose from his half-bare frame as the tree’s primary roots came into view, fibrous tendrils erupting from the earth before the great tree crashed down, torn from its very foundations. “……How about that for this drunken monk’s little diversion?” Zhishen likely intended it as a jest. Yet he found himself disappointed. When he regained awareness, the surrounding thugs had scattered faster than startled crows. This wasn’t mere awestruck amazement—terror had seized them, making them abandon their schemes entirely as they fled back to town.

Indeed, from then on they must have abandoned all thought of retaliation and submitted from the depths of their hearts. Even when they did show their sneaking shadows afterward, calling out "Flower Monk-sama" or "Flower Arhat-sama" from afar while flattened like spiders, they rarely dared to approach close. “This is lonesome,” he muttered.

"Moreover, constantly being on the receiving end of their hospitality weighed heavy on my conscience. ‘Right—this time I’ll be the one doing the inviting here.’"

One day, he prepared wine and meat and instead invited them to a mat in the garden. With great delight, they came. Once things reached this point, even the usual Gejigeji, Uro Nezumi, and Aokusa Hebi proved surprisingly innocent-hearted, drinking, dancing, singing, and indulging in every manner of revelry without ever growing weary. “Now then, Flower Arhat-sama. Today, we all have one small request to make—might you deign to hear us out?” “What’s this? To a poor monk like me?” “You possess such a magnificent monk’s staff, sir—how about granting us the honor of witnessing Flower Monk’s martial prowess just once? The whole group’s been asking.”

“What? You want me to show you my martial arts? If that’s all, I’ll do it for free. Easiest favor ever.” To say nothing of its usual heft—there it was, his steel-forged iron staff weighing sixty-two jin, as if he hadn’t swung it in ages. As soon as he took it up, he left the wine feast mat. First he tested a one-handed swing, then demonstrated stances like Hassō, Seigan, and Shigeki, proceeding to secret techniques such as Rosai, Senpūha, Bakurō, Chokuten, and Chokuchi—until finally, there was no man nor staff to be seen, only a groan like a windmill’s creak and whirring circular gleams buzzing through the air.

Then, who was it? Near the collapsed section of a crumbling earthen wall, “Ah, splendid! …Magnificent!” A voice rang out—as if its owner had forgotten themselves and let the words slip unbidden. At that voice, Zhishen inadvertently let his focus slip—and with it, the group of riffraff who had been holding their breath.

“Who’s there? The one peeking from over there who just let out that strange shout—”

“Oh! “…That’s Flower Arhat-sama.” “When it comes to martial arts, he’s quite the master.” “...the noble warrior known as Lin Chong, one of the instructors to the Eighty Thousand Imperial Guards in Biancheng.” “What? Instructor Lin, you say?” “Well now, that got quite the distinguished audience!” “I must offer proper greetings.” “Hey! Someone go and politely invite him over here.”

The mandarin ducks' nest was riotously torn apart,

Even amidst the turbid waves of this corrupt world existed an official of Buddha-like compassion. Lin Chong bore an epithet. They called him Panther Head, and by extension Panther Head Lin Chong.

Born with a panther-like narrow forehead, amber-hued eyes, and a jaw as sharp as a swallow's—this must have been why he bore such an epithet. His very bearing declared him a capital warrior through and through. His attire spoke of refinement. The green gauze coat draped over his martial frame bore scattered floral patterns, while his silver belt sheathed a magnificent long sword. Even his boots followed courtly fashion with understated elegance. He appeared thirty-four or thirty-five. ...And when he drew near, his stature proved equally extraordinary.

Zhishen welcomed the man onto the mat, exchanged names with him, and then offered a cup. A man knows a man, and the way understands the way—or so they say. The two men immediately bared their souls to each other,

“Flower Monk—from this day forth, I shall honor you as my sworn elder brother. In both martial skill and order of age, you are superior.”

When Lin Chong said this, Zhishen too responded, "For this Lu Zhishen, you'd make a brother far too worthy—but if you'll have it so, let us exchange the sworn brothers' cup here."

And so, with faces that had forgotten the passage of time, the cool breeze beneath the green shade rustled almost solely for them, crisp and refreshing. Then from somewhere came a woman’s voice—“Master! Master!”—calling repeatedly as if urgently seeking Lin Chong. He immediately rose from the mat and headed toward the figure of a maid-like woman who had briefly appeared near the collapsed earthen wall. “Hey, Jin’er. “This unworthy one is here, here!” “Has some urgent matter arisen?” “...Ah, M-M-Master! Something terrible has happened—to Madam!”

The maid Jin’er continued her frantic babbling, tearfully reporting something to her master as she ran toward him—and as he listened, Lin Chong’s panther-like forehead clouded with sharp hostility and anxiety. “Now, now—don’t cry. Alright,” he said, soothing Jin’er before turning back toward the drinking party mat. “As my wife has taken ill, I must take my leave today. Flower Monk—I’ll see you again someday.” “Hey, Panther Head. Your face has gone pale as a sobered drunk’s all of a sudden. Has something happened to your wife?”

“No—my wife took her maid Jin’er to Dongyue Temple to pray, and on their way back they were surrounded by some young warriors from the Palace Commandant’s office and are in trouble from their harassment.” “I can’t just abandon them.” “Forgive me!”

No sooner had he spoken than Lin Chong's figure was already vaulting over the distant collapsed earthen wall. To be sure, his panther-like form appeared to leap as though slicing through the wind. No wonder. For Lin Chong, this concerned his new wife—a woman he had courted for years and with whom he had only recently established a household. Arriving at the scene, he found about ten samurai-style youths lounging on the corridor railings of Wuyue Tower that stood adjacent to Dongyue Temple. Each toyed with blowgun tubes, pellet bows, or bird whistles in their hands, while another group stood blocking the stairway entrance like a mob determined to bar passage.

“Wh-what?!” “Those must be the attendants of Gao Qiu’s adopted son—Young Master Gao.” He had thought it unthinkable, but it was indeed that. Under the corridor stood a white horse he ordinarily recognized, fitted with a splendid golden saddle. Now, under Emperor Huizong of the current Song Dynasty—were one to ask who reigned as the foremost powerful favorite at the imperial gates of Biancheng—even a mere stablehand from the Horse Bureau would immediately answer: “That would be Gao Qiu, Grand Commandant of the Palace Commandant’s Office.” Young Master Gao was, in other words, that man’s adopted son. He was originally the son of Gao Sanlang—an uncle of the Gao family—but had been adopted into and become the scion of the powerful household of the Imperial Guard Commander.

However, this young master—relying on his adoptive father’s authority—spent his days engaged in nothing but mischief. The attendants surrounding him were all like a gang of delinquent upper-class youths, and the townspeople had come to refer to this pack of wicked young nobles as “Flower Hunters.” Nor were there lacking those who muttered in back alleys: "...Bloodlines cannot be denied..." Among the capital’s citizens, there were not a few who still remembered that Gao Qiu—now a favored minister of the current court—had once been nothing more than a rogue idler, excelling at brawling, gambling, calligraphy, painting, and all manner of diversions until he ingratiated himself into powerful circles. Through his mastery of kickball, he finally came to Emperor Huizong’s notice and became an outlandish upstart who skyrocketed to prominence. Therefore, it was perhaps unsurprising that people did not find it strange—that Young Master Gao, the adopted son, would immediately set his sights on other men’s daughters and wives for his womanizing—for such behavior was simply the Gao family’s specialty.

But enough about that.

Lin Chong’s new wife was now clinging to the hall doors of Wuyue Tower, struggling against the persistent Young Master Gao. “No!” “I am a married woman.” “I cannot be led into such a hall by strangers like you.” “Please release me.” “Let go!” “Oh, come now—there’s no need for that.” “You say we’re strangers, but I’ve loved you since long ago—so deeply I’ve seen you in my dreams.” “Our meeting here was arranged by Dongyue Temple itself.” “Ah, those lips… those eyes…”

“Ugh, you’re disgusting! What are you doing?!” “All women at first raise their willow-like brows in anger and say such things, but once you’ve known another man—just try it and see. You’ll be astonished by the sweetness of the spring lurking within yourself—” “Fool! You pervert!”

“Ouch.” “Very well.” “You struck my cheek with that beautiful slender hand of yours.” “I shall repay this violence in kind.” “With the violence of fiery love.” “Ah!... Someone! Help me!” At that moment, Lin Chong—having cut down and scattered Gao’s attendants who had been blocking the stairway entrance—came rushing up, “You troublemaker! What do you think you’re doing to my wife?”

With that, he suddenly shoved Young Master Gao. And in the very moment they stood stunned, he swept his wife into his arms and swiftly retreated to a corner of the corridor. There he took a defensive stance, glaring as he awaited whatever formation they might regroup into for their next assault. However, perhaps having been utterly startled by the suddenness of events, the opponent’s group showed no immediate signs of launching a counterattack. "...Ah! It's Instructor Lin!" "It's Instructor Lin!" "Panther Head?" they whispered among themselves—then suddenly came thundering down the stairs, installed Young Master Gao upon his white horse with golden saddle, and fled like dust churned up by scattering blossoms.

From that day onward, a sinister shadow crept into the newlywed Lin household, and even their mandarin duck dreams were constantly threatened by an unseen evil hand.

All of this they understood to be Young Master Gao’s insidious persecution and relentless unwanted advances. Yet this very understanding made it all the more terrifying. Their opponent was a dependent of the Palace Commandant’s highest official. On their side stood but a military instructor. There was no contending with this. “Wife,” he said. “Take care during my absences—both when I’m away from home and when I go out.” “No need for concern,” she replied. “These days I send Jin’er for all errands—I haven’t stepped outside at all.” Lin Chong and his young wife had grown accustomed to keeping their voices hushed even within their home, their senses honed to react instantly to every rustle beyond the fence. For mysterious misfortunes had cursed them time and again—his wife narrowly escaping assault here, unforeseen incidents occurring there during Lin Chong’s absences while he drank at a friend’s house.

“...It’s not just me they’re targeting.” “If you truly care for me, you must watch over yourself too.” “...even when traveling to and from your duties with the Imperial Guard.” Each time Lin Chong passed through the gate, his wife would tell him this with eyes glistening. The man could not refuse to go out. Lin Chong would force a smile.

“Don’t worry—I’ll be fine. I might not look like much, but when it comes to martial arts, there’s no enemy who can stand before Panther Head.”

However, one day at the crossroads of Yuewu Square, he unexpectedly ran into Lu Zhishen. With him—after that incident—he had shared drinks several more times, and their friendship had grown increasingly close; however, “What’s wrong, Panther Head? Every time we meet, your face looks worse than before.” “The autumn wind will soon make dead leaves dance, and this drunken monk feels strangely lonesome.” “How about we grab a drink around here?”

And so that day too, yielding to the invitation, he passed beneath the tavern's eaves. While talking with the Flower Monk, he could forget everything. Yet he never spoke of his wife, nor did his companion try to ask.

In the twilight hour, the two men left the tavern at Yuewu Square and wandered idly through the streets. Then from behind them came a man—uttering neither proper hawking calls nor mere whispers—who kept muttering under his breath in a strange peddler-like voice as he trailed after them.

“Ah, how narrow! How narrow this world is! This capital swarms with people, yet not a single soul has eyes to see! …To think none would recognize such a peerless blade—how pitiful.” Zhishen and Lin Chong, walking ahead, briefly glanced back as if irritated by the clamor, but soon seemed wholly absorbed in their talk once more.

Then again, from behind.

“This is no mere street peddler’s blade. Circumstances force me to relinquish it—a treasure you’ll never chance upon again in this lifetime if you let it slip away!”

At that moment, the two men parted ways at their usual crossroads. "...I'll see you again. Soon." Watching Lu Zhishen's receding figure as he departed with those words—"I'll see you again soon"—Lin Chong inadvertently let slip a murmur.

How wonderful... True friends are indeed a treasure.

And then, just as he was about to start walking again, a man around forty years old—wearing indigo cotton ronin attire and a square hood—appeared beside Lin Chong, cradling an exquisite treasured sword in his hands with a straw tag marked “For Sale” dangling from it. “How about it? A real bargain.” “Three thousand guan?” “A sword? “I have swords at my waist and at home.” “I don’t need it.” “I see. “So even you samurai are blind?”

“What?”

“This ain’t some common trash blade you’d find anywhere. If you’ve got eyes in your head, draw it and see!”

“Hmm, the fittings do seem well-made.” “Tch. What an amateur. I ain’t sellin’ hilts and scabbards here. Don’t want it?” “Wait—” Unable to resist his fascination, Lin Chong reached out and gripped the sword three inches below its scabbard mouth. The peddler released his hold. Lin Chong inwardly groaned—*Hmm...*

Its inherent qualities: an irresistible texture and heft. When he drew it from its scabbard, under the evening star, dew seemed to spill from the hilt. Gazing... scrutinizing... His eyes were drawn to the spirit of the peerless blade, and gradually he found himself driven by an inescapable temptation.

“Ronin, why would you part with such a divine blade?” “Why? …Look at these rags I wear and you’ll understand. My starving wife and children wait. To ask more would be wrong.” “I’ll ask no more. What’s your price?”

“I’ve been hollering ‘three thousand guan!’ these past couple of days, but it won’t sell. Since I see you’re a man with an eye for quality, I’ll slash it to half price for you.” “I want it... but I’m a bit short on funds.”

“One thousand guan. “Not a single penny less.” “If that’s acceptable.” “Alright, come to my gate.” Finally, Lin Chong obtained it. His wife was also delighted.

Not only did he acquire a family treasure, but the famed blade was also said to ward off evil spirits. He embraced such mental fortitude as well. —And so.

Three days had passed.

A messenger arrived from Deputy Lu Qian of the Marshal’s Office. When he opened the document,

It has come to our attention that Your Excellency has recently acquired a peerless treasured sword. That a military man’s devout martial spirit could be so profound—even when reported to His Excellency Grand Marshal Gao—his gracious feelings remain undiminished, and he finds himself unable to contain his shared joy.

Following such congratulatory messages, it concluded with these words: ...*It is His Excellency Gao’s esteemed wish that one evening, the Gao family’s treasured blade and Your Excellency’s cherished sword be compared and co-appreciated.* Therefore, as we will send an envoy tomorrow to formally receive you, we respectfully request that you bring it with you. Deputy Lu [Qian] || With a Hundred Bows

"Hah..." Who had learned about the sword? When had they started talking? Still—he had bought it openly on the main thoroughfare. Though that didn't mean no one had witnessed it. Lin Chong felt a flicker of suspicion. His wife too sensed an odd palpitation in her chest. Yet refusing an official summons under the Deputy Marshal's authority was unthinkable. If the document spoke truthfully, this might even prove an honor. Whatever lay ahead—the next day found Lin Chong robed in formal attire, bearing the treasured blade as he accompanied his escorts to the Grand Marshal's residence.

When they passed through the gate of the official residence where guards were visible, the escorts accompanying Lin Chong—

“Pass through that middle gate there and proceed along the eastern palace corridor.” “At that landing, either a summoner or the deputy awaits your arrival.”

Following their instructions, he ventured further inward. But there was no one standing there to greet him.

“Huh?”

When he looked back, an unfamiliar guard in the distance stood silently pointing toward the northern corridor. Perhaps there had been some miscommunication or misunderstanding, he thought as he proceeded northward and found another gate. It now appeared to be part of the Forbidden Precinct, where splendidly armored imperial guards stood stationed with halberds, but upon seeing Lin Chong, they silently saluted him like mute statues. Even Lin Chong, the Imperial Arms Instructor, had never before set foot in such a place.

But this was bad. Where on earth was I supposed to go?

After ascending the stairs of a magnificent pavilion and peering inside, he saw yet another inner courtyard beyond where only a hall encircled by green railings stood in the distance. "...Is that it? There seems to be someone's presence here..." He crossed the bridge corridor and quietly peered inside a chamber veiled by beaded curtains. Then on the plaque across the front transom - its ink's fragrance still fresh - were written four large characters: White Tiger Strategy Hall Lin Chong started and froze. "Oh. This is bad. The Strategy Hall is where military secrets are deliberated - none may enter except high officials privy to state affairs. What an awful place I've stumbled into."

In his panic, he attempted to retreat back. But it was already too late. With loud footsteps, a general swiftly pushed open one of the doors and appeared. This was none other than Gao Qiu—once a mere kickball player named Gao Qiu, now Grand Marshal of the Palace Command, whose influence in Emperor Huizong’s court could make flying birds fall from the sky. “Hey! What scoundrel is this?!” “You dare spy on the Strategy Hall?!” “Ah! Your Excellency Gao? I am Instructor Lin Chong, who has come in response to your summons.” “What?! You came by my summons?!” “When did I ever summon you?” “I have no recollection of this!” “Suspicious excuses—”

“No, no! I most certainly received Deputy Lu’s summons.”

“Lu Qian! Are you here?!” “Arrest this man!” “There’s someone here trying to assassinate me!” “What?! “Why would I—” Already he found himself surrounded by soldiers packed tight as an iron barrel. Among them stood Deputy Lu Qian’s familiar face. Lin Chong advanced toward him, “Wasn’t it you who sent the messenger?” “The letter from you at my house proves it beyond doubt.” “Why make me endure this?” “Hey! This isn’t some joke.” “Answer me!”

Though he shouted with fury, Lu Qian paid no heed whatsoever. “Hahahaha! Such foolish ravings! ...Why would Your Excellency Gao ever summon a mere instructor like you? Did you sneak in here to steal military secrets for an enemy state? Or do you bear a grudge against His Excellency Gao and plot against his life? It must be one or the other.—Now! Don’t let him wield that precious sword in his hand!”

The soldiers burst out shouting, pinned Lin Chong’s body down, bound his arms behind his back, and hauled him off to prison that very day.

The prison was located within the premises of the Kaifeng Magistrate’s Office. He was a criminal who had been sent down from the prestigious Gao family, and given the nature of the charges, he was practically a prisoner they were just short of ordering to be beheaded. However, as the duty of the prefectural magistrate, that could not be done. The magistrate ordered Sun, the Yori official, to investigate this matter. And thus, they took the time needed to secure at least a semblance of evidence. This could be considered one piece of good fortune for Lin Chong even amid his tribulation. Or perhaps it was that the earthly tasks he was meant to fulfill in this world had not yet come to an end?

Sun the Yori official, whose given name was Ding, was admired by both prisoners and the public as a compassionate and virtuous official. When it came to nicknames, they were not given favorably—but if one mentioned “Butsu Sonshi,” there was none who did not know it. Sun had long been acquainted with Lin Chong’s character and had immediately sensed that the Jietang Incident reeked of fabrication by the Gao family; thus he took it upon himself to investigate the circumstances. As a result, Young Master Gao’s illicit infatuation came to light. And it became clear that sycophantic and cunning villains among his entourage—Lu Qian, Fu An, and their ilk—had skillfully ensnared Lin Chong in their trap. Moreover, this matched the outcry against false charges that Lin Chong had pleaded in the magistrate’s white sand court.

“I have now unraveled all the mysteries up to this point. The relentless curses of Young Master Gao—who sought to eliminate Lin Chong and seize my wife—have undoubtedly taken various forms to torment and threaten my wife and household throughout.” That fact was acknowledged even by the chief magistrate. However, whether it concerned the magistrate himself or not, the Gao family’s baleful gaze remained fearsome. Even if they could array evidence and witnesses proving false charges, acquitting him was impossible—they wavered over whether any punishment short of death would suffice.

“Then, Your Honor, may I inquire…”

At this sentencing, Sun the Yori official—unlike his usual Buddha-like Sun demeanor—flushed crimson and pressed his case. “Is this Magistrate’s Office not meant to serve the imperial court and the people, but rather exists for the sake of the Gao family?” “Sun Ding, what are you saying? That may be a slight exaggeration, but...” “But if Your Honor shows such hesitation, would that not give the common people the impression that this is akin to a private magistrate’s office for the Gao family? Even without that, though they do not speak of it, all the citizens of Kaifeng have seen and know of the Gao family’s tyranny and the Young Master’s misconduct.”

“Then how do you propose we should judge Lin Chong’s execution?” “In any case, the death penalty is impermissible.” “You must absolutely not pass the death sentence.” “That said, even if we impose a light penalty, the Gao father and son will not be satisfied.” “How about commuting the death penalty by one degree and exiling him to the borderlands?”

“Well. What do you think—would such a punishment suffice?” “It will suffice. There was negligence on the Gao family’s side as well. I have in my possession a letter from Deputy Lu Qian that was found in the Lin family’s home. If this humble one brings that to light, the treacherous plot will be laid bare—so no matter how mighty the Gao family may be, they will not be able to utter even a sigh of complaint. This humble one firmly believes so.” Even in the corrupt age of the late Song Dynasty, there still existed this one virtuous official. On that very day, it was decided to sentence him to exile, and Lin Chong received his judgment at the White Sand Court.

According to the custom of the time, convicts would be stripped half-naked, administered twenty strokes of the rod across their backs, and have their faces tattooed. Moreover, when it came to the escort, an iron-plated board cangue was fitted around his neck, and a seal was applied to its lock.

The destination of his exile was Cangzhou Prison Camp in Hebei Province—a prison camp being the name given to large penal labor facilities that gathered convicts from various provinces. Moreover, even the Gao family of the Palace Commandant’s Office—who had been requested to grant their approval—must have found themselves unable to resist the judicial court’s decision. Silently, they stamped the official seal of approval on the document and sent it back down.

And so.

At last came the day of prisoner transfer. When Lin Chong stepped beyond the gates of Kaifeng Magistrate’s Office, barely a month had reduced him to a gaunt figure with protruding cheekbones, his very footsteps faltering. That day, even the townsfolk crowding the thoroughfare and relatives who had come to bid farewell could not hold back their tears at the sight—"...Is this truly Instructor Lin we knew until yesterday?" Under countless watching eyes, they crossed Zhou Bridge and passed through the capital gate—only to find another crowd awaiting them. Then from their midst burst Lin Chong’s wife and her father—

“Oh, Son-in-law! “…We’ve been waiting. Let us bid our brief farewells at that inn over there.” They led him to the back of a shop resembling a carter’s teahouse. Of course, this required that the customary bribes had been sufficiently provided. And so.

There, they gained a fleeting moment to weep and mourn their parting, but his wife—utterly distraught—buried her tear-streaked face in Lin Chong’s chest and refused to let go. Even as the escort guards outside shouted, “Time! Time!” she still refused to pull away. Lin Chong covered his eyes, steeled his resolve, 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 until soaked isn’t the only form of love. If this Lin Chong is gone, Young Master Gao will likely resort to every malicious scheme against you and your father... Quickly, hide yourself somewhere. And you’re still young—if a good match comes your way, marry into another household, forget about me, and live happily.”

He immediately borrowed a brush and inkstone from the old innkeeper, wrote a divorce document, and entrusted it to his father-in-law.

“How cruel… Do you truly think me such a woman?” “I won’t!” “…I’d rather die than do such a thing!” The wife was on the verge of fainting, yet still clung to her husband’s knees and wailed. Meanwhile, the escort guards pounded on the eaves, “Hurry up! Quickly!” they urged. Finally, the father-in-law forcibly tore his frenzied daughter away and, embracing her, curled up as if to weep himself to death.

Abandoning that scene, the waist chains hastening Lin Chong’s gaunt form mercilessly drove him onward along the road to the distant exile site.

The escort guards were men named Dong Chao and Xue Ba—minor functionaries (low-ranking officials). At that time, under Song Dynasty custom, roadside inns along the way were required to provide free lodging for minor functionaries escorting prisoners. Since these minor officials considered it their privilege to light fires themselves upon arriving at inns, cook millet, and pocket petty cash from travel allowances, they deemed it sufficient to provide prisoners with just enough food to keep them barely alive.

On the second day after departing beyond Tokyo City’s gate, as dusk fell upon a small post town, there was a man who had stationed his horse before a certain country tavern and was waiting for them. He wore a black gauze robe, a swastika-patterned headcloth, yellow leather riding trousers, and horseback riding boots—such was his attire. And with the whip held in a reverse grip, “Oh, officers! You’ve finally arrived. Well done, well done.” As if they had already conspired in Tokyo about this meeting here, when he gave them a meaningful look, the guards immediately went to a nearby inn, bound Lin Chong’s waist chains to a room’s pillar, and then promptly returned to the previous country tavern.

The man in the swastika-patterned headcloth had already had food and drink set out on the table and was waiting. And there were two piles of twenty taels of silver each placed right in front of their table.

“Go on, drink without holding back. From here to Cangzhou lies a journey of several hundred li—but along the way, you’ll find no decent food and drink.”

“Right.” “We’re deeply obliged.” “But truth be told… In front of someone as grand as the Vice-Commander of the Palace Commandant’s Office, we’ve gone all stiff and nervous-like…”

“There’s nothing official about this—you needn’t stand on ceremony. We’re also keeping this discreet ourselves.” “Regarding that matter where I discreetly sent a messenger to your private residence the day before leaving Kaifeng Magistrate’s Office—you understand what needs doing?” “W-well, you see, sir... It’s about that matter.” “We’re in a real fix here.” “We’ve huddled together like this to discuss it, but you must understand—the magistrate’s office strictly orders us to deliver this prisoner alive to the exile site without fail. If anything goes wrong, even lowly functionaries like us will face punishment…”

“I know that already. It’s precisely because I know that I’ve secretly had this request—this order—delivered to you lot from the Gao family! If this can’t be done, Vice-Commander Lu Qian won’t be returning empty-handed either. You refuse?” “N-no, unthinkable! For lowly functionaries like us to receive a private request from Your Excellency—we can’t refuse whether it’s right or wrong. But truth be told, with our meager salaries and households full of wives, children, and elders all starving daily...if we lose our posts, from that very day—”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been telling you! If you lot manage to finish off that Lin Chong skillfully along the way to Cangzhou with your own hands, not only will you get the reward money—we’ll take care of you for life! We’ll employ you as gardeners for the Gao family or whatever else needed. You’ll never go hungry, I swear.” “Right,” “Truly, this is a most gracious offer—I even told this guy here, ‘It’s work for life!’ But...”

“You lot are so indecisive. What are you still brooding over?” “If it were just an ordinary prisoner, we’d have no qualms—but this is Panther Head Lin Chong we’re talking about, the Imperial Guard’s instructor. If we botch this…” “You fools! What do you think the neck shackles and waist chains are for? You could strike him with a club in some deserted mountain pass, or push him off a cliff-side path and finish him off afterward—either would do. But remember—when you kill Lin Chong, peel the skin bearing his criminal tattoo from his face and bring it back as proof. Is that clear? Now that you’ve understood, take heart and drink your fill! —And as for those twenty taels of silver, I’ll hand them over as an advance payment, so you’d best keep them safe.”

Bribes were a routine part of income for these minor functionaries in their daily lives, but this time both the parties involved and the scale were on an entirely different level. It seemed as though they had perhaps seized what might be their one chance at a lifetime's fortune.

Thereupon, on the morning after parting with Lu Qian, the two minor functionaries once more gripped their guard’s batons (three-foot cudgels) in one hand and, prodding Lin Chong’s back again and again, resolutely set out along the distant road to Cangzhou beneath jagged mountain shadows.

The world's roads are much alike—such are life's vicissitudes. Even on the path of exile stands the gate of chivalrous patrons.

It was commonly said that the road to Cangzhou spanned two thousand li (one li being six chō under the Shina measurement system). Throughout lay treacherous passes and perilous points.

The two escort guards (prison officers) took hold of Lin Chong's ropes each day and drove him onward while—

“Now then—where should we kill this guy?” “If it were just an ordinary prisoner, it’d be simple enough—but this is the instructor of the Eight Hundred Thousand Imperial Guards.” “Even with those neck shackles on him—if we botch this, our heads will roll in an instant.”

Before they knew it, they had walked for over ten days. With their murderous intent being so meticulously plotted, they found it difficult to seize an opportunity. “Hey, Xue,” whispered one of the escort guards to Dong.

“Day after day like this—we ain’t gettin’ nowhere. Gotta figure how to do the deed soon.” “Got it. The problem’s tryin’ to finish ’im off all at once. Startin’ tomorrow, we’ll steer Lin Chong’s feet toward the afterlife—have ’im tread each mile marker on that netherworld road one by one. Then when we strike swift ’n clean in the end—what chance we got to mess it up?”

That night.

When they reached the mountain inn, Xue, one of the escort guards, swiftly circled around to the back entrance and returned carrying a foot-washing basin filled with seething hot water that bubbled violently. “Hey, Instructor Lin. Wash your feet with this.” “Tired feet are best soaked in hot water.” “You’ll sleep well at night too.” “Ah.” “I appreciate this.” “What’s the matter? “Ah, I see—the neck shackle’s in the way, so you can’t quite bend your body properly.” “There, there—I’ll undo those straw sandals for you.”

“Unthinkable! You, an officer, tending to a prisoner’s feet—” “Don’t mention it,” Xue Ba said. “C’mon now—stick out your feet. In the capital we couldn’t do this sort of thing, but we’re fellow travelers on a long journey—no need for formalities.” Lin Chong fell for their feigned kindness and unwittingly plunged his feet into the basin of boiling water. Before he could even cry “Ah—” and pull back, his ankles were scalded raw. Clutching his seared flesh, he writhed as if on the verge of collapse. Xue Ba snorted. “Heh! No need for theatrics.”

The two escort guards paid no heed. They began their customary self-cooking under the inn's firewood fee system, drank bedtime wine, and reveled together. True enough, a wooden bowl of millet gruel fit for horse feed had been placed before Lin Chong's neck shackles... Yet from his burns' torment came no appetite, and through the night he found no sleep. Worse still come dawn—forced into fresh straw sandals—after mere leagues of walking, their cords grew drenched in blood, while dried blood and earth eroded his feet's skin all day long.

“Hey, hey, Instructor Lin. What’s the matter with you? With the way you’re dragging those feet, it’ll take us half a year to reach Cangzhou! Move it! Faster!” “Ugh... I can’t... I just can’t walk anymore. Even this much has me sweating like a stuck pig.” “What’s that? You can’t walk?”

As Xue raised his guard’s baton (prison staff), Dong stopped him,

“Easy now, don’t lose your temper.” “His feet will heal in time.” “Come on, keep walking.” With the tip of his baton, he kept lightly prodding Lin Chong’s back and waist. This was far more agonizing than being struck.

Three days later. They came to the famous primeval forest known as Wild Boar Forest. Plagued by nightly sleep deprivation and fatigue, even the formidable Lin Chong occasionally seemed to doze off on his feet, staggering dazedly. The two escort guards exchanged glances. “Ah, I’m beat. How about we take a short nap here?” “Alright. But what about the ropes? If Instructor Lin were to escape while we’re dozing off, that’d be disastrous.”

Because Lin Chong also wanted to rest, he inadvertently spoke up. “Please bind this unworthy one’s body securely to a tree root to ease your concerns.” “Alright? Well then—sorry ’bout this—let’s have you tied up for a bit.”

Lin Chong had entrusted himself to their handling. They bound Lin Chong’s hands, neck, feet, and neck tightly to the trunk of a large tree, and no sooner had they finished than— “All right! “Now he’s ours!” With that, they leapt up. At their suddenly transformed expressions, “Ah! “What are you doing?!” Lin Chong cried out, but it was already too late. They raised their guard’s batons from both sides, “Hey Lin Chong, don’t go holding a grudge against us now. “For you, this is where your fate in this world ends. “And for us, it’s the gate to advancement. “‘Kill Lin Chong, tear off the golden seal from his face, and return—if we do that, they’d grant us a life of ease.’ That was the Great General Gao’s household’s command. “It’s that deputy named Lu Qian’s order. “If you want to resent someone, resent him over there!”

No sooner had they spoken than the two batons whistled through the air, poised to smash Lin Chong's skull to pieces. However, one baton clanged with an unnatural metallic ring as it flew skyward, while the other—along with the arm gripping it—was twisted violently; in an instant, both escort guards lay slammed against the earth.

The one who had appeared here was Lu Zhishen, the Flower Monk, who had heard of Lin Chong’s plight and pursued him all the way from the capital gates of Kaifeng. “Now that this drunken monk has caught up,” he declared, “you prison escorts are no better than servants!”

Zhishen turned toward a nearby standing tree, swung his monk’s staff, and struck once, then again. Every living tree split its bark and shattered as if snapped by a giant elephant. The two escort guards trembled uncontrollably, unable to utter a sound.

“Instructor.” “What a pitiable sight you’ve become.” The Flower Monk was tenderhearted.

Showing such care, he untied Lin Chong from the tree root, and then— "...What will you do, 'Panther Head' (Lin Chong)? Do you want to flee here? Or do you intend to be dragged all the way to the exile site in Cangzhou?" "O Flower Monk..." Lin Chong choked up with the joy of their reunion. "This unworthy one is still a man. I cannot save myself alone. If I flee, it will result in making my beloved wife and father-in-law in the Eastern Capital bear the brunt of this calamity in my place. After all, this unworthy one will go to the exile site and submit to hard labor."

“I see… There’s no helping it.” “Then at least let this drunken monk escort you near Cangzhou.” “Come—climb onto this monk’s back.” “Don’t jest. A prisoner like me—” “What hesitation?” “At Daxiangguo Temple’s vegetable garden, did we not exchange cups of brotherhood?” “You’re my sworn brother!” “Now heed your Big Bro!”

Thus, for several days of travel, Flower Monk walked with him on his back while the escort guards carried luggage and ran errands. At each inn along the way, they were driven around like servants. Thanks to this, Lin Chong’s feet had completely healed, and with ample daily nourishment, he had regained health even better than before. Moreover, his companion was a sworn friend who would die for him, and the escort guards played the part of attendants—forgetting both the fate awaiting them ahead and the hardships of their long journey, they ended up walking joyfully for dozens of days.

“Brother,” “Our time together feels all too brief, but I hear tomorrow we’ll already enter a county near Cangzhou.” “Tonight, let’s share a drink to our parting.” The Flower Monk had a rustic farewell banquet arranged at the humble inn that night. They drank to their hearts’ content, pouring for each other and being poured for, yet the sorrow of parting in their guts remained undispelled by the wine. “...Panther Head.” “Your worries are likely for your beloved wife and father-in-law in the capital,” said Zhishen, “but this Zhishen means to stay awhile yet at Daxiangguo Temple’s vegetable garden.” “I’ll be watching from afar, so don’t you fret.” “And here—I’ve got some silver on hand.” “Even hell’s judgments bow to silver—take this,” he passed him about twenty taels, then threw small pieces of silver to the escort guards beside them,

“Hey, Ox-Head and Horse-Face!” “Y-yes!” “Starting tomorrow, this Flower Monk won’t be around—but don’t think you can get away with tormenting the Instructor again! You lot’ll be scurrying straight back to Kaifeng Tokyo once your duty’s done, I’ll wager. Make sure you remember this drunken monk’s face well!” “W-we understand all too well, sir!”

The next morning, as they departed from the humble inn, Zhishen bid farewell once more to Lin Chong and turned back toward the skies of Kaifeng Tokyo like the wind.

That day, the group entered Cangzhou County.

The next day. Before long, the villages began to give off an air of suburban outskirts, with clusters of village girls and children along the road intensifying the bustling atmosphere of human settlement. When they eventually reached the vicinity of what seemed to be a stone bridge over an irrigation channel,

“Oh! Oh! The great patron of the Chai household is returning from the hunt!” exclaimed both the men and women who had been catching river fish along the banks there and the farmers who had been loading field produce onto handcarts, all drawing to the roadside as if welcoming some lord’s procession.

One of the escort guards was asking a local.

“Beyond that stone bridge over there—is that lavish estate gate what they call the Chai family?” “Huh? Don’t tell me you don’t know Lord Chai Jin? You’re prisoner escorts on the Cangzhou route, aren’t you?” “Can’t say I’ve heard of him. Is he truly that renowned around these parts?” “Not just here! Chai Jin’s a legend—they call him Little Whirlwind. Shows mercy to paupers, keeps dozens of masterless men and vagrants as retainers at all times. Why, even exiles like you—approach his gate and he’ll give alms, shelter you for a night, treat you decently. One hell of a righteous patron, I tell you.”

“Ah, I remember now.” “So, I’ve heard there’s some prominent noble family in Cangzhou’s outskirts that keeps an imperial edict from Emperor Taizu Wude of Song as their ancestral treasure, but—”

“That’s right. “That would be Lord Little Whirlwind Chai Jin—the righteous patron of these parts.” “Oh! He’s already here.” “That’s the lordly figure on that horse!” Sure enough, when one looked, a party of mounted figures was coming down the riverside path from upstream.

It was clear at a glance that they were returning from hunting. Among the many attendants, there were underlings carrying game such as wild boars, deer, and long-tailed fowl. Furthermore, Chai Jin himself was mounted on a curly-maned white horse fitted with a metal-trimmed saddle, his head adorned with a gauzy floral-patterned headwrap, his outer robe of purple cloth embroidered with circular flower motifs, a jewel-inlaid belt at his waist, green-striped short trousers, and vermilion leather riding boots—such was his attire.

He appeared to be around thirty-four or five. He had dragon-like brows and phoenix eyes, crimson lips, and was every bit the dashingly chivalrous and handsome man. On his back was a quiver of hunting arrows, and in his hand he clasped a rattan-wrapped bow. “Ah!” “…Wait a moment.”

Just as they were about to pass by, Chai Jin suddenly turned around and said to one of his attendants: “Have the escort guards bring that shackled prisoner bound for Cangzhou you see by the roadside here.” “There’s something about him… His bearing doesn’t seem ordinary.” “Day after day, there is not a day I do not see prisoners bound for Cangzhou, but never have I seen a man of such stature as that one there.” The attendant immediately ran and brought Lin Chong and the escort guards before him.

This chance encounter would later come to be known as what drastically altered the fate of Panther Head Lin Chong.—Yet in that moment, it was merely an exchange of names, “So my eyes do not deceive me—you are indeed the renowned Lin Chong who until recently served as Imperial Guard Instructor, famed throughout the martial world. For even among my retainers and young men, I have long heard tales of how they received your instruction during their days in the capital.” “In any case, I must insist you stay tonight at my humble abode.”

Thus accompanied, they merely passed through the gate of the Chai household—nothing more than that. Ah, but even during that night’s welcoming banquet, there was an episode.

Among the many household members and retainers was an arrogant martial artist whom everyone addressed as "Master Hong." Though he drank copiously, Chai Jin showed nothing but utmost courtesy—respecting Lin Chong, praising his bearing, and even seating him above Master Hong—so that this man styled "Master Hong" wore an air of profound inner displeasure. Completely oblivious, Chai Jin remained in high spirits, “Here now—pour wine for these two escort guards as well! “And give them silver and bolts of cloth—whatever they desire. “In return, for this one night, Lord Lin Chong’s person shall be safeguarded under Chai Jin’s responsibility.”

he went on. Of course, those bribes were the key fee to remove the cangue. For the escort guards, needless to say, lining their pockets was preferable to facing dire consequences. Thus, for this night alone, Lin Chong was free of the cangue and could wholeheartedly enjoy the feast. However, this too displeased Master Hong. “‘What could Lin Chong’s martial arts possibly amount to? And isn’t he just an exiled prisoner?’ came the look of utter contempt.”

“Ah ha! “Master Hong, you’re nursing a grudge.”

As the banquet reached its peak of merriment, Chai Jin finally noticed.

At that moment, in the gardens, the winter moon shone as clear as a mirror. He seemed stirred by a desire to depict a heroic tableau there. “What say you, Master Hong? Day after day, you’re stuck sparring with mere youths and country swordsmen here at the estate—scarcely an occasion to wield those divine skills of yours. Now that we have the former Imperial Guard Instructor Lin Chong gracing us with his presence, would this not be a most fortuitous opportunity for you to test your mettle in a match?”

“Hmm. That does sound intriguing.” Master Hong seemed on the verge of declaring “I’ve been waiting for this!” but instead assumed a dignified posture and glared sharply at Lin Chong. “I have no objections—but know that this one’s sword is a merciless blade. Since you are aware of this...” “Lord Lin Chong. Master Hong declares his blade merciless—but what of your own?” “Well. This unworthy one’s staff technique is no extraordinary skill to behold, but—”

“Then, shall we proceed to the courtyard?”

Here, the ones who were pleased were the two escort guards. For they had seen Master Hong brandish his greatsword and take his stance in the moonlit courtyard. If Lin Chong were to be vanquished beneath a single strike of that greatsword, they could achieve their objective without soiling their hands. So thinking, they alone—apart from the entire crowd’s eager interest—were holding their breath. However, the moonlit duel was decided in an instant—ending in Lin Chong’s victory. He took up his staff and confronted him, but in the instant their weapons clanged together—where and how he had struck escaped everyone’s sight. The only thing clear was the sight of Master Hong—his arm broken—clumsily crawling on the ground.

“Ah! Truly remarkable—even more splendid than I had heard! To possess such skill yet be condemned to prison camp labor... What cruel jest of fate is this?” Chai Jin’s sympathy appeared to deepen further.—The following day, when preparing for departure, he wrote letters of introduction to the Cangzhou magistrate, Prison Camp Warden, and Jailer—officials with whom he maintained regular acquaintance—and presented two sealed packets containing twenty-five taels of silver each along with them,

“Well now, take good care of your health while applying yourself diligently.” “I’ll have winter clothes sent to you before long.” Chai Jin urged him warmly. Moreover, in an act of consummate kindness, he even assigned two young men to accompany them and see Lin Chong as far as the prison camp gates. The bitter labor amidst ice and snow had brought him to death’s doorstep, yet he had survived,

The road from the prison gate led to Liangshan Marsh.

"...Ah—so this is Cangzhou Prison Camp's great labor site I'd long heard described as lying beyond the mortal world." An icy expanse that evoked the skin of corpses stretched before him. Even the shadow of a wild goose in flight made its very survival seem miraculous.

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

Lin Chong was dismayed time and again.

Even so, it was impossible to tell just how much influence Chai Jin’s letters of introduction and silver had wielded here. New prisoners were first supposed to be beaten down with a hundred blows from the authority rods and made to faint once for their “rebirth into hell” ritual—but he escaped even that. Moreover, it was customary for prisoners to be stripped naked before the warden, forced to crawl on all fours, have their anuses prodded with metal rods, endure commands like “stick out your tongue” and “shave your pubic hair,” and suffer every manner of inhuman humiliation and degradation—but he was granted clemency even from that.

And now that the registration and inspection of the metal seal had been fully completed, once his labor assignment was determined, he would first be counted among the denizens of hell and thus begin his endless life of penal servitude. “Hey, new fish! Get over here.” “Your job’s been decided—guard duty at the Prison Deity Hall.” “That’s mercy for you.” “Better be fuckin’ grateful, don’tcha think?” The Jailer grabbed him and marched briskly through the impossibly vast prison grounds, eventually pointing to an ancient hall housing Enma Daioh’s shrine.

“Here’s how it is, you.” “They call it Tianwang Hall too, but any prisoner who don’t obey gets dragged here one after another—right out front, they get buried alive, sawed apart, ears and noses sliced off. All sorts of heavy punishments. This here’s the execution grounds within this exile site.” “But you? All you gotta do is burn incense mornin’ and night, sweep up, and stand guard. That’s your job.” “How fortunate for me… compared to the other prisoners.” “Damn right.” “You’d better stay grateful, or you’ll get what’s comin’ to ya.”

“In addition to this, might I request your consideration in having this cangue removed?” “You want it taken off? Heh. That’ll cost you dearly.” “If silver is required, I would not withhold all that remains in my possession.” “Is that so? Though I reckon you’ve still got those care packages coming from the Chai household, eh? Hmm—leave it to me.” The Jailer took the silver and departed, but returned that evening to remove the cangue.

Winter deepened.

Even when the continent's icy plains froze solid, the tens of thousands of convicts got not a single day's rest. People reduced to skeletal figures—clad in tattered rags, caked in grime, snot, and eye discharge—streamed out like ants from the break of dawn each morning, only to cluster back wearily like spent smoke at dusk, their forms dim and hazy, before finally succumbing to sleep.

The labor camp spanned some thirty ri in every direction. Their production spanned every conceivable sector—agriculture, civil engineering, blacksmithing, carpentry, dyeing, leather tanning, cart-making, animal husbandry, dairy farming, weaving, and more. But these were not consumables for local use. Most were transported to the capital and expended on the Song Dynasty’s luxuries, the extravagance of its powerful families, and military affairs. But thanks to Chai Jin, Lin Chong was spared from the bitter labor. Because all the care packages from Chai Jin had been distributed 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 insistent calls of “Hey... hey!” And abruptly turning around, before him— “Oh! It really was you!” “Master Lin, it is I, Li Xiao’er.” “...But Master Lin, what in the world brings you to a place like this?” A man dressed in townsman’s attire came darting over. “Ah, this is rather awkward.” “Aren’t you the clerk from the wine shop that used to be near my home in Kaifeng?”

“I must express my deepest gratitude for your kindness during that time.” “Even now, my wife and I often speak fondly of you and have not forgotten your kindness.”

“Hmm. Did I ever help you with something, I wonder?” “Though I may speak of youthful indiscretion, after committing such reckless expenditures that I nearly faced being reported to the authorities by my master, it was you who saved me.” “To this day, I have yet to repay even the money you so kindly advanced for me at that time.” “Oh, that’s ancient history, isn’t it?” “Well, putting that aside for now, won’t you come over to our humble place for a bit?” “After that, out of shame, I left my master’s household and drifted from place to place until I finally settled here in this remote part of Cangzhou. Now I run a small tavern.” “Oh! There’s no doubt my wife will be astonished!”

This connection became the reason that, beginning with that day, whenever he went into town, he would often stop by Li Xiao’er’s shop as well.

In a back-alley eatery, with his wife and a young servant assisting him, Li Xiao’er took care of the kitchen work himself. Being well-acquainted with the jailers at the prison office, whenever they visited the office, they would also come to Tianwang Hall to check on Lin Chong’s laundry and mending, leave meat buns for him, and such. As they were such good-natured people, Lin Chong rejoiced at having gained such unexpectedly fine acquaintances.

Then, after that year had passed, on a certain day—

“T-t-terrible news，Master Lin Chong!” “What’s this，Li Xiao’er?” “You’ve gone pale.”

Lin Chong, who had been sweeping the area with a broom in hand, hurriedly entered the hall at Li Xiao'er's flustered urging and tightly shut one of its doors from the inside. That Li Xiao'er had abandoned his shop to deliver this warning could only mean one thing—this was undeniably an omen portending no ordinary calamity for Lin Chong. The incident had occurred earlier that afternoon.

There were two arrogant visitors who nonchalantly entered his shop.

One was a small-statured man with an unnaturally pale complexion and a leering demeanor. The other was a red-faced man bearing a soldier’s build. Both appeared to be around thirty years old. The moment Li Xiao’er casually uttered “Welcome…”, he froze in shock. When he realized why that face seemed familiar from the capital—the red-faced one was indeed Lu Qian, aide to General Gao’s household. Hmm—what’s this bastard scheming? Having sensed danger, he sent his wife to attend to the guests while taking their orders for wine and dishes himself. As he eavesdropped on their casual chatter through the kitchen window, he confirmed they spoke in Kaifeng accents—and now whispers of “General Gao” and “the Gao household” kept spilling forth.

That much was manageable. But then, before long— “Hey, shopkeep—we’ve already sent a messenger ahead. Soon enough, the prison camp’s warden (superintendent) and jailer chief (head guard) will be arriving here.” “Then you must not let any other customers in.” “We’ll buy out the entire place—consider it done.” Such was their proclamation. Sure enough, before long, the warden and jailer chief arrived. They added more dishes and poured more wine, appearing to drink casually for a while—but before long, their laughter ceased, and the room abruptly fell silent.

Li Xiao'er poked his wife’s rear and whispered into her ear. She nodded with her eyes and quietly took up position at the boundary between the kitchen and the shop, straining to listen. In the back, Li Xiao'er stared intently. Before long, his wife’s legs began trembling uncontrollably from the waist down……. She must have heard something truly terrifying. The four heads that had been huddled close over the table threw back their chests and laughed. A vast amount of silver was passed from Lu Qian’s hands to both the Warden and the Jailer Chief.

——And then, having shifted to food and drink, they eventually departed—this was mere moments ago, when the evening sun still dyed the town’s rooftops crimson——it was said.

Upon hearing this story up to this point, Lin Chong was surprised. “Then the smirking man with Lu Qian must be that rogue sycophant called Fu An—he’s said to be the lapdog of the Gao family’s young master, a notorious flatterer. But what purpose could those two have for coming all the way to this Cangzhou?”

“They came here to kill you.” “When my wife heard that, a chill ran down her spine and she froze right up.” “So they came with silver and authority to bribe the Warden and Jailer Chief here.” “That must be it. In any case, this is disastrous! You absolutely must stay vigilant!”

“Well, never mind.” “Either way, I’m a wanted man now.” “Li Xiao’er, tell your wife not to worry.” However, after Li Xiao’er had left, there was an undeniable sense of unease. That night’s dreams brought no peace either.

"Alright. If they’re so implacably fixated on taking this Lin Chong’s life—well now—that might prove interesting. This life of mine won’t be surrendered cheaply." The short spear and dagger with crimson tassels—weapons he’d secretly procured and concealed beneath Yama’s altar for precisely such contingencies. After slipping only the dagger into his robe’s fold, he strode into town under pretense of errands. Through Cangzhou’s cramped streets he prowled—hunter turned quarry—scanning shadows for assassins to impale with single thrusts should their forms materialize.

Several days passed without incident. He could neither see any sign of harm from his enemies nor catch sight of them.

Strangely enough, his honed alertness naturally began to slacken. For a while, he hadn't visited Li Xiao'er's shop either, but around the tenth day in the afternoon, he peeked in, "Strange... Was that all there was?" When he whispered this, both husband and wife wore relieved expressions,

“Well, that’s truly the best news we could hope for. “If things stay like this without incident…” “Well, please have a sip.” “Very well.” With that, after some time had passed, he took a drink and returned to the camp before dusk.

――Then came a summons from the Inspection Office, "You are hereby ordered to transfer starting tomorrow to Horse Feed Depot located fifteen li east beyond Cangzhou Prison’s East Gate. Your living quarters shall occupy one of central feed huts." Such were his workplace reassignment orders.

That position also seemed to be a lucrative one. The handling of feed involved many bribes, making it an envied workplace among the prisoners.

“Understood. I will relocate immediately.”

Carrying his meager belongings, he moved beyond the East Gate that very night. At that very moment, a roaring north wind howled through the bitter winter's darkness, while white specks began fluttering in the sky like a demon's breath.

Before him stretched a long crumbling yellow-earth wall and warped double doors on the verge of collapse. Upon entering what appeared to be guards' quarters at the center - a kitchen-equipped building that was clearly the largest feed hut. From where yellowish lamplight leaked out came movement - at his footsteps' sound emerged an aged head belonging to his predecessor. "Oh! So you're taking over horse feed duty. "Got my transfer orders too today - swap places with Tianwangtang's keeper." "Ah! My apologies for arriving so late. "Left some tableware and junk back at Tianwangtang - use what you like."

“I see.” “Here too, there’s my old sake gourd, a pot, chipped bowls and whatnot lyin’ around.” “If ya like, help yourself to ’em.” “Oh, and the bedding’s in this corner.” “Further back, there’s a whole mountain of charcoal sacks stacked up.” “After all, it’s cold—throughout winter, the hearth fire ain’t let out.” “Where do I go for supplies?”

“Right, right—if you go two or three li down the western bush path, you’ll find a small wine shop and butcher that’ll serve your needs.” “Just watch yourself—fodder thieves often target the Horse Feed Depot.” The hut’s caretaker changed hands without issue. Unlike Tianwangtang, it was an aged structure with plank roofing. The cold proved relentless. He found himself nodding at the sight—the massive furnace and mountainous stacks of charcoal sacks explained everything. Perhaps unaccustomed to his new surroundings, that first night left him shivering too violently for proper sleep.

When dawn broke and he looked outside, heavy snow blanketed the world. Moreover, there showed no sign of it letting up all day. Lin Chong felt boredom creep over him.

Then came evening. A patrolman who seemed to be under the prison guards' command peered into the hut through a crack in the wall. The sound of his footsteps vanished instantly into the blizzard's howl, and the hut's lamplight soon sank back into its original desolation. "Ah, if only I'd stored some wine for moments like this," he thought bitterly to himself. Staring at the cheerless hearth, he felt an acute longing for Li Xiao'er's tavern. But the town lay too far... Then his wandering gaze caught a wine gourd hanging on the wall—its shape oddly elegant amidst the squalor.

"Ah, right—they said there’s a wine shop two or three li down the western bush path. “Alright, I’ll make a quick trip there.” He tied the gourd to the tip of his short spear adorned with a red tassel, donned a felt-lined hat and straw raincoat, then flung open the door into the blizzard and stepped outside.

—But something seemed to trouble him; he went back inside again heaped thick ashes over hearth fire extinguished lamp peered through gaping attic space "If I prepare like this first there shouldn't be any mistakes" Muttering he locked hut door left

A sorcerous white night unique to the continent.

The accumulated snow buried his boots, the north wind swept the ground sideways, and visibility was reduced to mere inches. His breath caught in his throat, and snowflakes froze onto his eyelashes.

“Hmm... What old temple might this be?”

After traveling about half a li, he suddenly paused to catch his breath by the roadside. Whether it was a road deity shrine or some unknown temple, perhaps a Buddhist compassion had awakened in Lin Chong’s heart. Earnestly, he bowed his head in the snow: "Is this due to my past life’s karma? Though bearing no memory of sin, I have been exiled to this prison land and become such a living grotesque carcass. Ah, wretched as I am—pray grant me your divine protection. And grant your protection also to my wife in the distant capital." With this muttered prayer, he soon resumed walking.

Finally reaching a small village’s wine shop, he took a swig there, filled his gourd with more wine, tucked a package of roasted meat into his robe, and by the time he set out on his return journey, the night had grown late. The snow grew ever fiercer, the wind fought against his steps, his entire form now a whirl of flying snowflakes as he pressed down the brim of his hat and raced back to the Horse Feed Depot. Then, almost absently, he kicked open the familiar double doors and stepped inside—only to find that while the other fodder huts stood unharmed, his own sleeping hut had been crushed under the snow’s weight and now lay completely flattened.

"Huh?! This was bad. ...With things like this—I couldn't cook rice nor find anywhere to sleep."

This was what it meant to be at wit's end. "If I stay like this, even I'll be buried in the snow." "Right—I'll sleep in that old temple tonight and figure things out come morning." Peeling back part of the plank roof, he pulled out only the futon from where he remembered it, shouldered the bedding, and returned along the village path to the old temple.

The inside of the temple was unexpectedly spacious. Glancing around he saw a fearsome martial deity statue clad in golden armor and two minor demons enshrined there. Also on the altar were scattered offerings remnants of candles and many colored papers. He spread out his bedding before it Ah you never know what lies even an inch ahead I ended up spending the night in such a strange place But still having wine in this gourd is my greatest blessing now He promptly unwrapped roasted meat from its package to serve as accompaniment and began gulping chilled wine straight from its mouth

“Ah, I’ve gotten just the right amount of drunk. If only I could sleep soundly now.” With a thud, he lay down sideways using his arm as a pillow, but sleep still eluded him. Snowmelt seeped damply through his white cotton clothes and undergarments. Not only that—somewhere far off came a strange crackling sound mingling with the snowy wind. The noise clung stubbornly to his ears, making sleep impossible. “Wh-what?! It’s strangely bright.” Startled, he jumped up. Through gaps in the temple’s broken walls glowed a crimson night sky.

“Damn it! It’s the direction of the fodder huts!” In his mind, he immediately concluded that the fire from the hut’s stove was the cause. The fodder huts weren’t a single building. In an instant, the entire Horse Feed Depot might become a sea of flames. “Ah! I can’t stay like this!” He grabbed the red-tasseled spear he had propped by his pillow and was about to rush to extinguish the flames when—he jolted to a halt. Right in front of the temple, there were voices—people talking. He listened without consciously trying to.

“Well done, Warden.” “Ah, and you’ve worked hard too, Prison Officer.” “With this, Lin Chong must’ve been nicely roasted to a crisp.” That voice—he recognized it from the capital. That must be Lu Qian—Commander Gao’s deputy. The ones responding were unmistakably Warden Guan and Prison Officer Cha Bo. The other one was likely Fu An, Lu Qian’s companion—gazing at the distant inferno while cackling incessantly. “Truly, this was a great achievement by Warden Guan and Prison Officer Cha Bo.” “Taking advantage of this heavy snow, we ordered our men to catch Lin Chong asleep and had them remove all the rotten pillars of his hut in one go—simply masterful.” “With the snow’s weight and roof beams crushing him, he must’ve met his end while still sleeping.” “For Lin Chong—well, I suppose it was a decent way to go.”

“No, no—we didn’t think that alone would suffice, so on our way here, we two tossed about ten torches onto that collapsed roof.” “With this, there’s not even a one-in-ten-thousand chance that bastard could survive.” “As expected of the Warden!” “Such thoroughness!”

Lu Qian’s voice, still effusive with praise, 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, there will surely be rewards from the Gao family for you all. Now then—” “You must depart swiftly.” “Hmm, being seen would serve neither party well.” “Let us return to the inn and depart at dawn.” “Fu An—shall we go?”

The instant they were about to part ways— Lin Chong kicked open the temple door from the inside,

“Stop right there, you lowlifes!” Without warning, he hooked the nearby prison officer with his short spear’s tip and—with a whistling motion that sent up a jet of dark blood—lopped off the man’s head. “Wh-wh-what?!” “Wh-who… who are you?” “Lost your bowels? “Lin Chong stands before you.” “Agh! “H-help us!” “Someone help!” “You spineless curs! What drivel do you spew?” Already, Lin Chong’s panther-like brows had regained their natural ferocity. Crouching low like a great cat, his spear flashed once—then again—piercing Fu An through. In a breath, he skewered Warden Guan’s hulking frame like meat on a spit, then wheeled toward Lu Qian’s shadow fleeing through the snow.

“You weasel! Where do you think you’re fleeing?!” With a whoosh, he hurled his spear like a war arrow. The weapon struck his fleeing back—a sickening shriek pierced the air as crimson blood bloomed vividly through the darkness, staining the night.

"Ah... I've finally killed four military officials. Under the Song Dynasty's rule, I am now a criminal with nowhere left to shelter"—Lin Chong shuddered at his own words, then turned and prostrated himself before the temple, paying homage to the statue of the war god as he repeated this alone, again and again. "If that stable hut hadn't collapsed earlier tonight, this Lin Chong might have been crushed beneath the beams and burned to death, just as their wicked scheme intended. That I survived must be by the divine will of this temple. Truly, this is Heaven's aid. 'May you continue to protect Lin Chong henceforth.'"

And then, no sooner had he grasped Zhu Fang’s short spear again than—before the night had dawned—kicking up snow, he vanished from the spot.

The flames at the horse fodder warehouse appeared to have soon subsided under the heavy snowfall. However, for a time, the frantic beating of alarm boards and tolling of warning bells from both the prison and nearby villages had everyone roused into commotion, keeping an emergency night watch. With all escape routes thus blocked, Lin Chong darted about like a cornered rat until finally spotting a large bonfire at the crossroads and forcing his way into the gathered crowd.

“Brrr, freezin’ cold,” he said through chattering teeth. “Mind if I warm myself a spell? You folks must be chilled to the bone too.” “Come ’n’ get cozy then,” replied forty-odd villagers, shuffling aside. One squinted at him—“Ain’t from round here, are ya? Got yerself some fancy face ink there!” “Just a prison camp runner, sirs.” “Prison runner my ass!” another spat. “Quit sidlin’ up so close! Lookit them bloodstains—ya done murdered someone!”

“Ah, this blood?” “Oh, this? It’s just stains from when I slaughtered a cow.” “Well, you see—last night there was a guest reception at the official residences of Warden Guan and Officer Cha, so I was ordered to slaughter cows, sheep, and the like.” “Hmm… Is that right?” “Even so, that’s awfully fresh-lookin’ blood for that.”

The large crowd of villagers all exchanged uneasy looks; however, having witnessed the ferocity of convicts daily, they refrained from pressing further... Lin Chong, too, had secretly begun to grow wary of the precariousness of his situation, but when he glanced over, he noticed several opened wine bottles near the large bonfire that the villagers had been drinking to ward off the cold. Seeing that, he had no choice but to act. “Excuse me, could you spare me a cup of that?”

—But no one spoke. Neither a word nor a sound escaped them. Lin Chong muttered, “Ah, screw it,” and took it upon himself to grab a nearby vessel and drink two or three cups. However, during that time, those who had come running from the old temple were whispering furtively among themselves in the back. Eventually, they came to Lin Chong’s side and— “You must be mighty thirsty for wine.” “Come on, times like these call for a drink.” “Drink your fill, then.”

And this time, they began pressing him insistently. Thinking he should stop around here, Lin Chong had been about to set down the wine bowl—but ended up taking it in hand again. In an instant, he downed half the jar. Just as he was about to rise with words of thanks— One of the men on the opposite side cast a net over Lin Chong’s head. “Got him!” The moment they did, clubs, hook-ended staves, crowbars, barbed spears—every implement at hand—rained down upon him. And then, as if hauling a wild boar’s carcass, they carried him into the village’s rice-drying area,

“This one’s no ordinary catch.” “Come dawn’s first light, we’ll report him to Warden Guan’s office.” “Might even be a reward in it for us!” They clamored and buzzed like stirred hornets among themselves.

And before long, the village chief came rushing,

“This is terrible, everyone! Just now, a retainer from Master Chai Jin’s estate came rushing over—said we mustn’t handle roughly the man we captured! He’s someone Master Chai Jin, that great patron of knights-errant, once took under his wing! —The Chai household’s men will be here any moment to claim him!” “What?! He’s acquainted with Master Chai?” “W-we’ve gone and done the unthinkable!” “No—no one’ll scold you.” “But not a word of this leaves your mouths! Anyone who blabs gets banished from the village—official order!” “I’d lose my standing as village chief.” “Folks—I’m begging you!” “Play deaf and dumb to the prison camp about this!”

—Now then.

As seven or ten days passed since that night’s commotion, the rumors had long since died down.

In a secluded room of the estate belonging to the village’s esteemed figure—none other than Little Whirlwind Chai Jin—Panther Head Lin Chong stood before his host, expressing heartfelt gratitude for his benevolence and bidding farewell.

That night. That he had been rescued and brought into the Chai household, and that he had received various treatments—all of this he had no memory of at the time; it was only the next day that he was told of these events.

Here were dozens of burly laborers and retainers as well. Therefore simultaneously with the fire at the horse provisions factory，news of the violent incident before the old temple also reached Chai Jin’s ears in an instant—and no sooner had he learned of this than— “Ah! When harm befell you—for your sake—the capital’s assassins along with the warden and officer must have been slain.” “The warden and officer had long been notorious.” “Their deaths were nothing less than divine punishment…” “Yet it is you who now finds yourself in such pitiable circumstances.” “We cannot abandon you to die.”

No sooner had he spoken than he ordered his men to divide tasks, and as a result, they instantly brought him into the estate.

Now, this Chai Jin looked upon Lin Chong—whose body had fully recovered—and with evident satisfaction yet lingering reluctance, spoke thus: “If it were possible, I would have you stay long at my home, but now that cannot be.” “But ever since then, the prison authorities have set up checkpoints at all four thoroughfares—inspections so strict not even an ant could slip through.” “But leave it to me—for now, flee to Shandong.” “The strategy rests within this Chai Jin’s grasp.”

“Your kindness—surpassing even that of family—I shall never forget in this lifetime.” “This remaining life that should have already been lost—whatever may come, I entrust myself to your command.” “Well then, I have prepared a letter of introduction here. Go to Liangshan Marsh in Shandong and bide your time until the moment is right.” “Huh… Liangshan Marsh, you say?” “You are not yet aware of it? —In Shandong, along the rivers of Jizhou, lies a marshland where three men have built a stronghold amidst eight hundred *li* of reeds and rushes. —Their leader is called Wang Lun, and beneath him are Song Wan and Du Xuan—all of them remarkable men.” “They command seven to eight hundred subordinates—all outcasts rejected by society.” “Furthermore, I have heard that under Song rule, those with nowhere else to turn have gradually sought refuge there—a naturally formed haven for those who dwell in the 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 neglect.”

“That would be my most fervent wish,” “I would go there without hesitation—but how could one slip through Cangzhou’s checkpoints unnoticed?” “Set your mind at ease.” “The arrangements have already been made—I myself shall escort you partway.” “Now make ready.” Urged onward, he changed into garments bestowed by the Chai household and secured farewell silver and traveling implements against his person.

Chai Jin himself, clad in an elegant hunting outfit made all the more flamboyant that day, mounted his horse and emerged at the gate. There, dozens of retainers and guests had already assembled, holding banners, positioning hawks, leading hunting hounds, and carrying spears and beating sticks in their hands. Lin Chong had been skillfully disguised as one among their company. Thus, as they traveled boldly along Cangzhou's outskirts, they frequently saw posters bearing Lin Chong's likeness plastered on roadside earthen walls, while at every crossroads, arrest warrants for "Lin Chong, the Prisoner" stood visible everywhere.

“Did you see them?” When Chai Jin, from atop his horse, looked back at Lin Chong and laughed, Lin Chong also smirked silently in return.

Before long, the barred gate of the Shin Barrier at the Eastern thoroughfare and its guardhouse came into view. Tap-tap-tap—the party quickened their pace somewhat briskly and approached the front of it. “Halt, halt!” The checkpoint officers and soldiers swarmed out,

“Ah, if it isn’t the great master of the Chai family!” “Off to hunt again today, are we?”

They abruptly shifted their demeanor and began cheerfully exchanging pleasantries.

Chai Jin also wore a serene expression. "Well, if it isn't you prison camp soldiers. You've certainly been toiling away tirelessly these past days. Still haven't caught that bastard from the wanted posters?" "We've got no leads at all, sir. The real victims here are us—stuck night and day at this guardpost on permanent duty. Lately we haven't even glimpsed the town's lanterns, you know."

“I bet. But on our way back this evening, I’ll leave a whole pile of boar meat and fowl as gifts for you. I’ll have some wine sent over too.” “That’ll be a treat! We’re counting on it, Master!”

“Understood,” said Chai Jin. “But duty remains duty. At least check each member of my retinue one by one.” “Given that you’re a master well-versed in the prohibitions...” The guards waved dismissively. “There’s no need for that, sir. Go on through now, sir.” “But what if a wanted man had slipped into your entourage?”

“Bwahahaha!” “You must be joking, Master!” “Ha ha ha ha! “Well then, if you’ll excuse us—” The party of over thirty men. In this manner, they cleverly dashed right through. Needless to say, after traveling some ten li, Lin Chong alone broke away from the group and changed his course. Afterward, his journey hastened through mountain wilds for over twenty days, until one day when a north wind sharp enough to slice the skin blew through snow-laden skies, he arrived at a desolate riverside stretching as far as the eye could see—a shore lined with reeds and withered rushes.

At the water’s edge that appeared to be a ferry landing, a teahouse flying a wine shop’s flag could be seen. As he was having a drink there, the somewhat eccentric teahouse proprietor scrutinized Lin Chong with his eyes. “Traveler. Where in Shandong are you plannin’ to head next?” “That’s what I wanted to ask you. Proprietor—where does this ferry go?” “This ain’t no ferry landing. Only boats that go fishin’ sometimes dock here, that’s all.”

“So having you ferry me to Liangshan Marsh isn’t an option either.” “Hmm… This is troublesome.” “So you’re planning to go to Liangshan Marsh?” “That’s right.”

“Hmm…?” The old man narrowed his eyes even more suspiciously. “Don’t know where you heard about it, but if you’re talkin’ ’bout Liangshan Marsh, you’re either one of the law’s bloodhounds or got some other scheme in mind. Once you cross over there, you ain’t comin’ back in one piece, y’hear?” “That much I understand. Actually, proprietor—I’ve come here with this accompanying letter for the leader of Liangshan Marsh…” As he showed Chai Jin’s letter, the proprietor stared intently at the handwriting and his appearance, then suddenly changed his demeanor and spoke.

“Oh, I must apologize for failing to recognize you earlier.” “There’s no mistaking Master Chai of Cangzhou’s handwriting.” “My deepest apologies for such impertinence.” “Very well—I’ll summon the ferry immediately. Have another drink there to warm yourself against the cold while you wait.”

Who, then, was this teahouse proprietor? This was undoubtedly another of Shandong Liangshan Marsh’s eyes and ears—an underling operating here under a temporary guise. No sooner had he retreated into the back of the hut than he reappeared holding a bow, nocked a large whistling arrow, and loosed it with a sharp twang toward distant reeds across the water. The arrow’s drone reverberated over the surface, trailing a long wake behind it. As it vanished from sight, a flock of wild geese suddenly took wing—and soon after, a swift boat came into view, cutting through waves of reeds and rushes as it rowed toward them.

The outlaw stronghold of Liangshan Marsh: Now, the ronin selling a hair-splitting sword in the streets Liangshan Marsh’s exact perimeter could not be fully seen for several hundred *li* in any direction; it was famously said to span eight hundred *li* (Chinese *li*) at that time. On days of stormy winds and waves, it was terrifying, but on clear days—with white clouds encircling mountains, primeval forests stretching endlessly, and reed-covered islets giving way to rush-lined shores—the scenery resembled a reed-and-water landscape from a Tang Dynasty painting. However, here hundreds whom the Song Dynasty could not tolerate—rebellious souls and malcontents—had gathered over time to build a mountain stronghold. They openly defied the government by proclaiming themselves righteous bandits, troubling travelers on waterways and land alike. It was a colossal “floating bastion of lawlessness”—so formidable that even government troops who had repeatedly launched campaigns to crush it were said to have never returned alive.

"So this is how it is..." That day, Lin Chong—having boarded the swift boat summoned by Zhu Gui (the teahouse proprietor who was in fact a member of the mountain stronghold)—disembarked at Jinshatan on the opposite shore. As he proceeded onward, he marveled at the impregnable stronghold. Between the reeds and rushes formed a maze for boats, while the land paths resembled a labyrinth to traverse. Like the riverbank of piled stones from limbo, the desolate waterfront—dotted with cavernous gates, valley paths, and dense forests—would make one instantly lose all sense of direction.

And so, when he reached the Duanjin Pavilion on the mountainside, there he met the leader, Wang Lun.

Wang Lun had once earnestly pursued scholarly ambitions in the capital, diligently preparing for the imperial examinations. However, upon witnessing officialdom’s corruption and recognizing the world’s duplicity, he came to view academic pursuits as foolishness itself. Having consequently failed the examinations, he ultimately embarked on reckless wandering until arriving at Liangshan Marsh. There he gained comrades like Song Wan, Du Xuan, and Zhu Gui, eventually being elevated to leader of seven or eight hundred men. “Oh! So you’re Panther Head Lin Chong who brought Lord Chai Jin’s letter from Cangzhou.” “Well then—have a seat.”

“Is this Lord Wang Lun?” “This one is Lin Chong, formerly an instructor of the Imperial Guard—a man with no place left under heaven or earth to shelter this body.” “Would you not permit this one to remain here?” “The circumstances are thoroughly detailed in Lord Chai Jin’s letter of introduction.” “I would very much like to say, ‘Since I owe Lord Chai Jin a debt of gratitude from before, I shall gladly take you in’—but the truth is...”

Wang Lun, briefly glancing warily at the faces of Song Wan and Du Xuan on either side, “...To be honest, even now Liangshan Marsh has seven or eight hundred men, so provisions are often scarce.” “This is difficult to say, but I offer ten taels of silver for your travel expenses.” “Could you not go elsewhere to consider how to settle yourself?” Lin Chong indignantly refused. “Your offer is appreciated, but I didn’t come here to beg.” “Then return Master Chai’s letter.” “Then I’ll take my leave.”

At this, Song Wan and Du Xuan—both men—hurriedly stopped him and began to persuade Wang Lun on the other side.

“Chief.” “We find that treatment rather questionable.” “First, you’ll disgrace Master Chai’s honor. Second, the world will brand us of Liangshan Marsh as ungrateful wretches who know no righteousness.” “Our fellowship is a world sustained by gratitude and righteousness.” “Is that truly acceptable?” “But we cannot allow just anyone to join our mountain stronghold.” “There’s also the apprehension of a worst-case scenario.” “That is nothing but an excuse.” “If you doubt him, then have him swear a pledge of allegiance—that should suffice.”

“A pledge. Hmm… Well then, shall I let you try it?” “Hey, Lin Chong or whatever—I ain’t tellin’ you to write no pledge.” “Instead—can you do what this Wang Lun commands within three days?” “If you’ll let me stay here, I’ll do anything.”

“Very well. Then leave Liangshan Marsh once more, hide on the opposite shore of the Shandong Highway, and within three days bring back a human head to show me here. And you can’t just bring me some commoner’s or fisherman’s head. It’s gotta be the head of an official or a proper warrior!” “Understood.”

That night within Wanzicheng of the mountain stronghold，he was surrounded by a welcoming feast as a guest．But even during that banquet，Wang Lun’s demeanor remained aloof．Observing his host’s character，Lin Chong thought—Hah…This man reeks of jealousy and pettiness．No doubt he fears letting someone with my background stay might threaten his leadership．Though I loathe serving under such a small-minded wretch，Lin Chong wrapped himself in cheerless resolve，this exiled one has nowhere left under heaven…And so he accepted the three-day trial．

The next day, he prepared himself, hoisted a single nagamaki field sword, had a foot soldier guide him by rowing the boat, and crossed over to the Shandong-Jizhou Highway. The first day, he encountered no one. The second day dawned clear following the snowfall. "Today will be the day," he resolved, hiding by the roadside and sneaking furtively through the woods. Yet all he spotted by twilight were a destitute fisherman trudging homeward and a peasant couple with their child.

“The allotted days now numbered but one remaining.” Fatigue and frustration had left Lin Chong’s eyes utterly bestial. Then, a little past noon, a lone traveler caught his eye—a figure descending toward him along a steeply sloped path on a mixed-wood hill, shouldering a large travel bundle. “Perfect!” he exclaimed, and without even properly discerning who it was, he ran up to right before the man’s eyes— “You there, traveler—halt!” He thrust the stone-weighted end of his nagamaki into the ground with a thud. Then, the man, startled, abandoned his bundle right there and,

“Eek! A murderer!” The man fled tumbling blindly toward the valley’s depths. His scream and frantic escape—this was no official or warrior. Lin Chong stood disappointed,

"Tch. The third day was already about to end... Ugh... Seems I'm truly cursed with ill luck." And then, as he absently let his gaze fall upon the bundle abandoned on the road, a gust of killing intent suddenly swept across his profile from nowhere. Startled, he whirled around— “Bandit! You think you can just pick up that bundle and throw away your life?” Mixing anger and mockery, the words themselves were already a voice like a blade.

Looking up at him—could this be master of that cowardly porter? A robust man still in his thirties glared back—his face mottled with blue birthmarks beneath an unruly red beard that seemed grown out of pure defiance. A Fanyang hat with tassels hung askew down his back while his travel-stained robe had long lost its original hue beneath grime and wear. Striped trousers of white and blue clung to his legs above deep fur-lined boots of cowhide leather—all overshadowed by an exquisite blade resting at his waist like some slumbering beast. “Ahahaha!” The man barked when he saw Lin Chong stiffen— “So you cling to life yet covet another’s goods?” “Listen well—carry that bundle like a proper mule to town’s edge and I might grant you wine enough for one swallow! That’s mercy!” “Choose now—mule’s labor or blade’s kiss?”

“Hmm… From what I observe, you’re no mere common townsman.” “You’re a warrior, aren’t you?” “Aye—though I now wander rootless, until yesterday I stood among warriors’ warriors! A descendant of Yang Linggong of the Five Marquises, ranked among Emperor Huizong’s own retainers!” “What say you to that?”

“Alright! I’ll take that head.” “What?!” “Don’t mock me!”

Almost simultaneously. Between the two men—resembling twin dragons spewing white light—sparks scattered with metallic clangs. Yet his long sword and Lin Chong’s nagamaki had exhausted their secret techniques through dozens of exchanges—neither had managed to sever even a single strand of the other’s hair. At last their struggle became a contest of locked guards; both men breathed harshly, their sideburns now nothing more than sweat-drenched strands.

Then, from a slightly elevated spot, a voice suddenly called out. “Hold, I pray you. “Lin Chong’s three-day deadline is settled with that.” “I pray you, withdraw your blade as well, you, the warrior.” When they looked to see who it was, there stood Wang Lun—the White-Clad Scholar—along with Du Xuan, Song Wan, and several dozen Liangshan Marsh subordinates who had come to discreetly observe how Lin Chong was faring now that his deadline had passed.

“Gallant hero, I implore you—will you not grace our stronghold with your presence this very evening? I shall explain my reasons and offer apologies thereafter, and I would also like to hear of your circumstances.”

And so, they brought him to Liangshan Marsh’s stronghold and the Assembly Hall, where that night they held a grand banquet. In Wang Lun’s view, keeping Lin Chong alone posed a threat to his own position, but by having another individual of equal caliber serve under him to naturally create mutual checks between each other, they would be easier to control—and so he had quickly reasoned that this arrangement would ensure his future security.

He pressed wine upon him repeatedly and lowered his courtesy, “How about it? I hear you’re a wanderer—why not stay here awhile and see if you’d like to enjoy a man’s life to the fullest?” He casually tested the waters. “No, I deeply appreciate your offer, but truthfully, I still have a residence in the Kaifeng capital and kin left behind there. I must return at least once without fail.” “As for why this one finds himself in such a wandering state… well, it’s a rather shameful tale.”

He drained his cup in one go and wore a self-deprecating smile. His bluish-birthmarked face appeared all the bluer the more he drank.

“My family has served for generations as hereditary retainers of the Song court, holding the positions of Palace Commandant and Transport Commissioner. Moreover, I was once an officer in the personal guard directly under His Excellency General Gao… However, last year, when Emperor Huizong undertook the construction of gardens at his detached palace on Longevity Mountain, he dispatched ten Transport Commissioners to West Lake to transport numerous famed stones from there to the capital.” “I see…” “I too was once among the Transport Commissioners. So we loaded the rare flowers, trees, bamboo, and stones of West Lake onto a large ship and set sail down the Yellow River. But ill fortune struck—we encountered a terrible storm along the way and ultimately failed to fulfill our duty. Ashamed, I hid myself away in the countryside until at last this pardon was issued…”

“No, I understand,” said Wang Lun. “So you were returning to the capital?” “Exactly,” Yang Zhi replied. “I meant to resume my former post and restore my family’s honor to avoid shaming my ancestors... I’d prepared bundles of bribes for high-ranking officials when that Lin Chong fellow suddenly attacked me here—nearly made me present this unique head of mine as tribute! Hahaha!” Lin Chong finally spoke upon hearing this.

“I neglected to mention earlier—I was once Panther Head Lin Chong, who served under General Gao Qiu of the Imperial Guard as an instructor in the Forbidden Army.” “…As I’ve been listening to your account, it seems we were once colleagues of sorts. Could you be Commander Yang Zhi, he who bore the nickname ‘Blue-Faced Beast’?” “Ah! This one is indeed that Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi—but how does one once called Instructor Lin come to find himself in such a place as this?”

“Well.” “Please look at this tattoo…” Lin Chong pointed to his own forehead’s tattoo and, with a bitter smile, recounted in detail how he had been driven from the capital to Cangzhou’s penal colony and the circumstances of his escape from that harsh labor camp to end up here—

“I’ll speak plainly.” “Consider Lin Chong’s case here.” “After all, General Gao Qiu is an untrustworthy sycophant, and given how corruption taints every military officer, official, and aspect of Emperor Huizong’s court—even if you return to the capital, you’ll never live in peace for long.” “...Why not instead heed Chief Wang Lun’s counsel? Join us in this sanctuary, where men live by bonds of honor and carve meaning from life’s fullness.”

“Though my heart is somewhat drawn to it, as I stated earlier...”

“Nay—if you insist, I shall not press you to stay.” Wang Lun also relented. “Then tonight, let us make merry and celebrate the prospects of Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi.” “However, another day would suffice.” “In Liangshan Marsh’s haven, men such as these gather to resist the Song Dynasty’s corruption and live this way of life—keep this in mind.” “And when the time comes, I would consider it a blessing if you would lend your strength.”

“A river’s flow, a tree’s bond.” “That goes without saying.” The following morning, Yang Zhi received parting gifts from the stronghold and a grand send-off from Wang Lun and his men; waving from aboard a boat, he departed Liangshan Marsh.

And now, the narrative shifted to follow the journey of the tall, blue-faced stalwart Yang Zhi as it moved toward Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital.

Having moved to the capital, Yang Zhi promptly unpacked the belongings he had brought back—jewels and pearls, famous inkstones, gold and silver artifacts, and other such valuables he had collected in the provinces—and spared no expense in using them as bribes for high-ranking officials. And finally, having secured his prospects for reinstatement, he had reached the point where all that remained was for General Gao—the highest official at the Dianshuai Headquarters—to stamp his seal on the documents... "At last—with this, I have restored my family's honor without incident." And so he waited through that day of hope.

At last, several days later, a summons arrived from the Dianshuai Headquarters: “—Appear before us.” Since it was a clear day, he took particular care with his appearance and waited in a chamber of the headquarters. Before long, Imperial Guard General Gao Qiu appeared by parting the curtain, and no sooner had he leaned back in his chair than he declared arrogantly:

“So you are Yang Zhi.” “Ah! This one humbly presents himself as Yang Zhi, one of the ten former Transport Commissioners.” “How dare you show your face here? Perusing your records and petitions—you, born into a lineage that received generations of great favor from the Song family—last year, when entrusted by His Majesty’s decree to transport West Lake stones, not only wrecked your ship mid-journey but vanished thereafter, hiding without surrendering yourself until this day! Are you not an unrepentant criminal?”

“Ah, but the circumstances are exactly as I detailed in my petition.” “Moreover, having heard of your pardon decree, I have come to the capital accordingly—I humbly beseech your magnanimity.” “Fool! Silence!” “The pardon decree was not issued for your sake.” “Of the ten Transport Commissioners, most fulfilled their duties—but as two or three returned to West Lake to await punishment, the pardon was granted solely for them.” “You—a fugitive who fled the scene and persists to this day—reinstatement is out of the question.” “An outrageous request.” “Be gone at once!”

Yang Zhi was plunged into darkness. Crushed by despair, he had since continued to harbor smoldering resentment alone. “……Now, I finally grasp the meaning of Lin Chong’s words.” I could not bear to taint my ancestral family name or this body that serves as my parents’ memento. Even after refusing Wang Lun’s attempts to keep me here, I returned clinging to a dream of the capital… Ah, but this city where Gao Qiu wields power is no place for the likes of me to dwell.

I had nothing left to do, nor any will to seek other employment. He had already sold off everything for reinstatement bribes and campaigns, driven to such dire straits that even tomorrow’s food became uncertain. “Ah—there still remains this single famed blade passed down through my ancestors.” “I’ll sell it to provide for the elderly and children among my dependents, use what’s left as travel funds, and go find a new path in some distant prefecture.”

That day.

He took out a sword, attached a straw tag to it indicating it was for sale, and stood at the crossroads of Horse Market Street.

However, there was hardly anyone who would even ask the price. Thereupon, Yang Zhi moved his position to the bustling approach of Tianhanzhou Bridge after noon, “A renowned blade for sale.” “This unparalleled treasured blade.” “I wish to pass this on to someone with a discerning eye, but...”

...he called out to passersby. Then, a large, bare-chested man with his chest hair exposed stomped up to him. A pungent waft of body odor—like a mix of alcohol and grease—assaulted his nostrils. As soon as they saw this, the people on the street immediately, “Look! The Hairless Tiger’s charging at that sword seller!” “Is Niu Er the Hairless Tiger gonna start something again?”

As they whispered among themselves, the area was already crowded with onlookers.

Sure enough. Niu Er the Hairless Tiger—the street thug so called—from the very outset looked down on Yang Zhi and began to provoke him. "What? This old blade costs three thousand strings? ...Hey! Enough with trying to fool people! Cut it out!" "Hahaha. You're drunk. I never asked you to buy it. Step back. Now, move along."

“None of your damn business!” “You think I don’t have the coin to buy it?!” “Don’t press me, I say.” “This blade is my family’s treasure—parting with it feels like losing a child.” “I won’t let it become your plaything.” “Fine! I’ll take it.” “Look down on me, will ya? Now it’s a matter of pride!” “Gotta buy it now.” “But listen here—” “This ain’t some dull piece of junk, right?” “Persistent bastard.” “I told you—it’s not for sale to you.”

“Don’t mess around—you’ve got that ‘straw sale tag’ hanging on it, ain’t ya? Come on, I’ll buy the damn thing—show me how sharp it is! Or are you getting cold feet, huh?! …So you’re a fraud after all.” “I won’t stand being called a fraud before this crowd.” “Exactly! Even a thirty-coin sword can at least cut tofu or lotus roots. If this three-thousand-strings treasured blade can’t even cut that, then what the hell can it cut?”

“Listen well. This blade won’t chip even cutting through copper or iron.” “Hmph. That all?” “Blow a hair against its edge, and it’ll slice it clean—they call this the Hair-Splitting Sword.” “Fancy words! Means nothin’ if it can’t cut livin’ flesh!” “The true marvel lies in its forging—slay a man, yet no blood stains its surface. Now that’s explanation enough. Step aside.” “Nah, now that’s somethin’! Try slicin’ this then!”

Niu Er was stacking a handful of copper coins on Zhou Bridge’s railing like a pagoda. “Come on, you fraud over there! Get over here and show me a clean cut through these coins! If you slice ’em clean, I’ll give you three thousand strings—but if you can’t, you ain’t walkin’ away unscathed!”

The crowd suddenly parted, forming a ring. The town’s notorious pests and the sword seller’s grandiose boasts. The street swelled like a mountain of people, all wondering what would happen. “……Very well… I’ll show you.”

Yang Zhi finally approached the railing. He stared fixedly at a single spot on the coins for a long moment—not even a flicker of movement to draw his blade—so infinitesimal was the interval between intention and action. The coins split in two scattered to both sides of the blade—and not a single scratch remained on the railing.

“Whoa—it cut!” “It really did cut!” Ignoring the clamorous cheers of the spectators, Hairless Tiger remained frantic. Suddenly tearing out a fistful of his own sideburns, “Hey—not so fast, wanderer!” “Tricks like that? Even street performers can do ’em!” “C’mon—try cutting this exactly like you said!”

Finally, pressing his advantage, he snarled.

“Oh ho! Set your eyes and see!” “Witness the true steel!”

Yang Zhi received them in his left hand. And then, facing the gleaming blade of the treasured sword, he blew the hairs in his palm onto it with a soft breath—

“Oh, how splendid…” The spectators were momentarily spellbound.—For as they watched, the hairs caught in Yang Zhi’s breath—as though drawn into the very essence of the treasured blade—left his palm, danced like weightless plumes, and fluttered down, each cleanly split in two. Hairless Tiger, who had been glaring, “Shut your traps, you damn spectators! “It’s still not my loss.” “Thirdly—you swore that even if you cut a man, the blade’s surface wouldn’t keep a speck of blood!” “Come on, wanderer—prove it!”

“I’ll show you.” “Bring a dog here.”

“What’re you gonna do with a dog?” “One doesn’t cut men without cause.” “Knew you’d say that!” “Same old fraudster’s excuses.” “Can’t do it? Then bow ’n apologize to these folks!” “I won’t sell you this blade.” “Let this be enough.” “The hell you will!” Hairless Tiger seized Yang Zhi’s wrist, “This sword—I’m buying it.” “Prove what you swore—that it won’t stain with blood when cutting men!”

“If you insist that much, then pay up.” “I don’t have the money now, but there’s such a thing as deferred payment.” “Anyway! I’ll cut down a living person right here—that’ll prove its worth once and for all!” “Or will you get down on all fours and grovel in apology?” At his absolute wit’s end, Yang Zhi had finally reached the point where the thread of his patience snapped. Though a flicker of ferocity showed in his blue-tinged face, his words remained calm. “Now then, witnesses—”

he said to the spectators. “As you can see, this ruffian here has been finding every possible fault with me since earlier, and no amount of appeasement will settle him. Furthermore, he demands I cut a living person to demonstrate—and refuses to listen. What in heaven’s name am I to do?” Then, from the crowd of spectators, a troublemaker— “Cut him down! Cut him down. Show that Hairless Tiger the blade’s sharpness!”

“If that bastard’s gone, first off, the town’ll brighten up. There might be those who’d rejoice, but there ain’t a soul who’d mourn that bastard.” “Wanderer—I beg you—do it!” A clamor of voices rained down from all directions. Hearing this, he could no longer contain himself. Hairless Tiger bared his true nature and lashed out. Suddenly, he drove a fist into Yang Zhi’s chest, making to seize the treasured sword in his hand—but his upper body went limp, swimming through empty air. It lasted but an instant. To the spectators’ eyes, a spray of blood mist burst forth like some great blossom unfurling its petals.

“Aaaaah—” “He did it!” They had thought it impossible. The crowd’s groaning voices quivered with a collective shudder. At Yang Zhi’s feet lay Hairless Tiger’s massive frame—cleanly bisected and utterly still. And upon the longsword he held upright, not a trace of blood remained.

“Good people of the town,”

He maintained his stance and addressed the crowd.

“Silence, please. “I will not trouble you all. “As you have witnessed, I have killed a man in broad daylight upon this Tianhanzhou Bridge thoroughfare. “I cannot evade the law’s punishment. “You are my living witnesses. “I shall now surrender myself at the magistrate’s office. “Clear the way and let me pass.”

His demeanor was admirable. The crowd seemed moved even by this. Word spread, and in front of the magistrate’s office he had entered, commoners formed a crowd: “It’s Hairless Tiger’s fault! Niu Er has always made the townspeople weep and hasn’t done a single decent thing! Please spare the sword seller!”

they cried out in unison.

From that day onward—daily petitions, care packages, even righteous funds collected for Yang Zhi's sake—every form of plea for clemency was continued by concerned citizens of the town.

During the sixty-day detention period, his fate was nearly decided. The authorities themselves had struggled with Hairless Tiger—a certified troublemaker—and since everyone from interrogators to jailers sympathized with Yang Zhi, this appeared to facilitate leniency in sentencing. "—To be exiled to Beijing and demoted to a common soldier of the Damingfu Military Headquarters." This constituted the criminal judgment. Simultaneously came: "The treasured sword in your possession is hereby confiscated by imperial decree."

It was also pronounced. In accordance with standard procedure, the imprinting of a golden brand (tattoo) upon his forehead was unavoidable. However, the blows of the expulsion staff were light, and soon he was sent off under escort into the distant skies above Beijing.

Yang Zhi, the Blue-Faced Beast, Displays Divine Martial Arts in Response to His Patron

At that time, Beijing was also called Damingfu and was renowned as the capital of various states during the Five Dynasties period. “If Hebei is governed, the realm is governed. If Hebei falls into chaos, the realm falls into chaos.” As there had been a saying since the Tang dynasty, to the west lay the Taihang Mountains, to the east bordered the distant Bohai Sea, and to the north bore the Great Wall—renowned as impregnable against invasions by northern barbarians. However, in recent years, as invasions by the Jurchens (Jin) of Manchuria and the Liao could not be overlooked, even Emperor Huizong’s Song court had attached great importance to this region and stationed particularly prominent figures at its Military Headquarters (Beijing’s military commander, concurrently serving as provincial governor).

Liang Shijie, the Military Governor, was that man. He was the son-in-law of His Excellency Cai Jing, Grand Preceptor of the capital, and in this Beijing held the weighty position of Military Governor entrusted with full control over military authority and civil administration—his influence went without saying. “Oh? Yang Zhi of Dongjing has been demoted to a common soldier and sent here?”

One day, Liang Zhongshu saw a document submitted by the escorts and muttered this. Yang Zhi was originally from a distinguished family, so Liang Zhongshu had some inkling of his character. After giving the official seal for custody to the escorts 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?” he demanded an explanation of the circumstances. And upon hearing the details directly from him,

“Oh, so that was how it came to pass.” “Very well. Await an opportune moment.” “A man of your standing—I will not leave you a common soldier indefinitely.” Liang Zhongshu gave him generous encouragement and had him quartered temporarily among the household troops. Yet even with his authority, he could not promote Yang Zhi without justification. Thus he resolved to wait for the grand military exercise at Beijing’s training grounds beyond the city walls—there he would test Yang Zhi’s martial skills, and should he display extraordinary prowess, commend him and promote him significantly.

It was early February, when spring was just beginning to stir. The grand military training ground was filled with the flags and troops of Beijing's three armies. When the hour arrived, conch shells blared, drums and gongs thundered, and along with the military band’s performance, Liang Zhongshu attended the ceremony grounds accompanied by his adjutants and a great host of soldiers. After the solemn military review, under the commands of Generals Heavenly King Li Cheng and Broadsword Wen Da, the entire army offered their deepest salute toward the Zhongshu Platform and three times let their thunderous shouts resound through heaven and earth. Instantly, the entire army split into two formations, and red and white flags were waved. At the drum’s signal, the massive forces of both armies deployed various formations—Crane Wing, Bird Cloud, Water Flow, Wheel, Yin-Yang Thirty-Six Transformations—displaying their tactical mastery. Finally, with a thunderous roar, both sides erupted into chaotic armies, and across the field, ferocious one-on-one duels unfolded.

Among them, the Red Army's deputy commander Zhou Jin performed remarkably; none could stand before his spear. "Zhou Jin," Liang Zhongshu addressed him from his gleaming silver chair. "Your usual rigorous training has borne fruit—today's performance was splendid." Then he continued: "By the way—former Dongjing Palace Commandant Yang Zhi has been exiled and demoted to a common soldier. Today he too follows behind as part of my retinue. As a former imperial guard commander, he excelled in all Eighteen Martial Arts." His voice sharpened with command: "You shall compete against him here in spear techniques—show me your mettle!"

“With all due respect...” Zhou Jin pursed his lips. “To have me compete against an exiled common soldier—this is utterly beneath me.” “What nonsense!” Liang Zhongshu deliberately raised his voice and barked.

“Now that bandits infest every province and Liao tribesmen and Jurchen raiders eye our borders, never has our nation needed talent more than today! Should one possess divine martial prowess—even as a mere foot soldier—to withhold it would be treason against the state! Do you mean to say Zhou Jin here disputes this?” “No—that’s not at all what I meant.” “Then summon Yang Zhi at once!” Yang Zhi had long recognized Governor Liang’s favorable disposition toward him. Naturally he raised no objections.

The two men were provided with jet-black armor and black steeds. The weapons used were tampo spears (with their tips wrapped in woolen cloth to form balls), which were generously coated with lime.

“Engage!” Before the command platform, the two men clashed their spears on horseback. Though they wielded practice weapons—making victory harder to judge—the difference in their skill stood starkly revealed. After several passes, white lime marks mottled Zhou Jin’s body and his black steed’s flanks, while not a single blemish marred Yang Zhi’s form or mount. “Decided!” The gong rang out. Then Li Cheng, Military Affairs Supervisor, stepped forth to address the command platform.

“Zhou Jin seems resentful.” “As archery is his forte, I humbly request you permit him to compete again with a bow.”

“Yang Zhi. Is that acceptable?” “Understood.” Once again, a blue flag was waved from the command platform. With a resounding clash of gongs and drums, the horses chased after one another and sped toward the southern end of the training grounds. It was Yang Zhi who fled. Zhou Jin released three arrows, but all three were deftly deflected by Yang Zhi’s single-handed shield. Now it became Yang Zhi’s turn to pursue. Yang Zhi drew his bow taut and closed in on Zhou Jin’s back, deliberately avoiding the vital spot to strike him in the shoulder instead. Yet even a shoulder strike proved decisive. With a gasp, Zhou Jin tumbled from his horse.

"As expected, Yang Zhi's martial arts represent the first rank of central capital techniques—Zhou Jin was never his match to begin with." "Let Zhou Jin temporarily yield his current post to Yang Zhi. From this day forward, Yang Zhi shall be appointed deputy commander." "Military Secretary—issue his commission at once!" When Liang Zhongshu gave this order, suddenly a giant of a man sprang forth from the military ranks. "These words are utterly unacceptable to this Suo Chao!" "I speak not because Zhou Jin is my disciple—but when Your Excellency declares Yang Zhi's skills 'first-rank of the central capital,' it sounds as though you say our Beijing General Army lacks capable men!" "If your praise rings so true, then let him earn it by defeating this Suo Chao first!"

“Hahaha! Who do we have here but Suo Chao—the Hasty Vanguard himself—commander of his own regiment? Unacceptable, unacceptable! If you seek to challenge this, then face me in combat!” At last, matters took on a solemn gravity. Both combatants were ordered to don full ceremonial armor, and as the dueling grounds had been relocated close to the command platform’s railing, Liang Zhongshu moved his silver chair right up to the railing’s edge. Meanwhile, above Beijing’s seven gate towers, a great sun began its descent into evening clouds, and a beautifully adorned canopy cast a shimmering shade over his ceremonial headdress.

The military music began. When it ceased, metal drums sounded within enclosures on both sides, and from atop the tower came the command: "Prepare!" The yellow flag was already being waved. With a thunderous boom, an explosive beacon signal echoed through the evening sky from the training ground's far end. Looking westward beneath the gate banner came the Hasty Vanguard Suo Chao; eastward through the gate emerged the Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi. Each wore resplendent armor and full helmets. Adorned with battlefield ferocity, they could be seen calmly drawing toward each other.

“Ugh…” In an instant, the two riders’ figures entwined like fish scales twisting through water as they circled each other. Suo Chao, astride his snow-white steed, brandished a great axe carved with golden flames; Yang Zhi gripped his keen divine spear tightly while thundering across the field, probing for weaknesses. This clash was magnificent. Both their majestic bearing and martial prowess left spectators breathless. The great axe flashed, the spear tip sparked like lightning—they crossed blades in fifty furious exchanges. Though their horses streamed with sweat, neither could gain advantage. The entire field fell silent as the vast crimson flames of the setting sun sank moment by moment into the western sky. Yet still both warriors brimmed with unbroken spirit. One might doubt whether these were mortal men battling at all.

“Ah!” “Magnificent!” Liang Zhongshu had unconsciously risen from his silver chair, utterly absorbed. He was satisfied. He rejoiced, saying, “I have gained two heroes in Daming Prefecture!” A messenger ran from his side.

The gong signaling a draw sounded. Suo Chao’s men raised a thunderous victory cry, but from Yang Zhi’s side came not a single cheer.

However, both men lined up below the platform and together received equal awards. And that night, at a grand celebratory banquet held on the upper floor of the Martial Hall, their honor was extolled, and at that very gathering,

“Henceforth, Suo Chao and Yang Zhi shall both serve side by side as Provost-Marshals of the army (commanders of military police).”

Thus were they appointed. What constitutes misfortune or fortune—truly, human fate remains unknowable. From that time onward, Yang Zhi found favor with Liang Zhongshu, and Yang Zhi too, feeling gratitude in return, served the man with wholehearted devotion.

Before long, summer drew near, and when the first signs of May arrived, that day was the Dragon Boat Festival. Once all the guests from the festival had departed, Liang Zhongshu finally relaxed in his private quarters with Madame Cai, the two of them alone. And while pouring calamus wine into Madame’s cup,

“Somehow, with this busy and demanding post, I scarcely catch a glimpse of your smile these days.” He deliberately said something meant to please his wife. Madame Cai, her alluring form exuding haughtiness, let slip her customary pride in her family’s status. “But are such honors and riches not the envy of all?” “How ungrateful!” “Don’t be absurd! “I wasn’t complaining. “If anything—I’ve not forgotten your father Minister Cai’s patronage for even a moment.”

“Now that I mention it—Father’s birthday approaches.” “You’ve forgotten again, haven’t you?” “Absurd! How could I forget? “The fifteenth of July—Father’s birthday. “This year, I’ve taken every precaution behind the scenes to avoid repeating last year’s blunder.”

“Last year’s oversight was simply appalling.” “For Father’s birthday celebration, you had such an enormous amount of gold, silver, and jewels sent to the capital—and yet, were they not all plundered by bandits en route?” As if reproaching her husband for some failing, Madame Cai’s eyes—emitting a sharp glint finer than the lapis lazuli in her earrings—pierced Liang Zhongshu’s profile. To this, he too had no retort, 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 precisely why I’ve already taken measures this year—treasures worth a hundred thousand guan have been scoured from Beijing’s ancient capital and secretly stored in the vaults.”

“No. Rather than that—how will you ensure those treasures reach Father safely in the capital? Is that not the very heart of the matter?” “It hinges on the right person,” he replied. “We need someone utterly trustworthy—a hero who’ll never yield to any bandit.” “With hundreds of thousands of troops in Beijing,” she pressed, “is there truly no one fit for this task?”

“No, that’s not the case…” he hurriedly retorted. “—There are brave men.” “There are plenty of martial arts masters.” “But consider this.” “When you speak of treasures worth a hundred thousand guan, that’s a tremendous fortune.” “However much my savings and salary may be, as a private individual, I could never present such vast valuables to Father in the capital. […] Even if someone has strong arms alone, we cannot entrust this matter to those with blackened hearts, nor dispatch them as envoys.” “That is why I too must exercise utmost caution in selecting this person…”

“Indeed, hearing this, there may be no suitable person,” Liang Zhongshu conceded. “But if we let Father taste hollow delight this year of all years, even you would have no excuse,” Madame Cai pressed. “...Now wait,” he countered. “There remain dozens of days yet. It’s not that I’ve no candidates at all. Whether they’re truly trustworthy enough... Well, let us observe a while longer.” At that moment, the sole figure in Liang Zhongshu’s considerations—the candidate in question—could be none other than that Blue-Faced Beast, Yang Zhi.

A wandering eccentric brought the karmic burden of destiny stars to Dongxi Village.

Lately.

In Shandong’s Jizhou Prefecture, there was a newly arrived magistrate in Yuncheng County.

His family name was Shi, his given name Wenbin. The county residents enjoyed an excellent reputation. Though the present age was said to be the height of corruption, there were still many good officials among them. He was a man of remarkable fairness in distinguishing right from wrong—one who loved orchids, played the qin, and often read books in his leisure time. “—Since I assumed office here,” he declared, “I have yet to implement any notable administrative measures. But first and foremost, I shall prioritize establishing public safety throughout this county.”

One day, he posted the principles of civil governance on the walls of the county office (the county being equivalent to a Japanese *gun*) and addressed all the clerks gathered in the public courtyard that day: “In every post I have served until now, I have keenly felt how truly difficult a task it is for an official to reassure the people and live in harmony with them. But this county in particular strikes me as a most difficult region to govern.” “The reason for this is that with dens of great bandits such as Liangshan Marsh and other watery regions present, the roads have become desolate, the local people’s temperament has grown rough, and furthermore, even in the face of heinous crimes reported daily, the authorities have thus far achieved nothing, leaving them looked down upon by both the people and villains as powerless.”

Everyone fell silent. They all looked shamefaced. However, within the ranks were the faces of two burly men—their entire countenances smoldering with discontent and their ears perked up in listening. They were both magistrate’s deputies—in other words, constable captains. One of them was a cavalry constable magistrate’s deputy named Zhu Tong, who bore a beard akin to that of Guan Yu, earning him the nickname “Beautiful-Bearded Duke.” Moreover, the other infantry magistrate’s deputy was a man named Lei Heng, who also stood over seven feet tall and possessed not only extraordinary physical strength but also the special skill of leaping over any earthen wall or small stream in a single bound—earning him the nickname “Winged Tiger” throughout the county.

Thus, the two men wore defiant expressions toward the new magistrate’s directives. Wenbin, sensing their demeanor, offered a faint smile before promptly moving to the next matter. “But what’s done is done,” he continued. “Henceforth, let us devote ourselves to county security through mutual cooperation. Therefore, I command constable captains Lei Heng and Zhu Tong—”

The two men in the ranks slightly adjusted their upright posture. “I appreciate your diligence. Immediately lead your subordinates: one group shall patrol the villages from West Gate Road, while the other departs via East Gate Avenue to survey the county. En route, capture any bandits encountered and aid citizens in distress. Then, let the two patrol groups rendezvous atop Dongxi Village’s mountain to exchange information.” “Understood.” “Then, immediately.”

“Wait—on Dongxi Village’s mountain stands a great maple tree, renowned as a marvel throughout the land.” “Those leaves have no equal.” “Each of you must bring back those maple leaves as undeniable proof of your completed patrols.” “Mark this well—neglect your duty, and I shall hold you accountable!”

Wenbin—the new magistrate.

Where restraint was needed, he restrained; where severity was required, he was unyieldingly severe.

That evening, Zhu Tong departed through the West Gate but left his own men behind temporarily to first observe Lei Heng's path. Lei Heng led over twenty constables out via East Gate Avenue, patrolled the villages, walked through the county again the next day, then climbed Dongxi Mountain as agreed and stood beneath the famous great maple tree. Before long, Zhu Tong's group arrived too. After exchanging information here, the two men involuntarily roared with laughter. "Well now, you've certainly put in the work." "Just when you need 'em most, not a single petty thief shows up." "Might as well call this a maple-viewing excursion—"

The return journey met with night. They switched to opposite paths and descended the mountain while waving their torches.

Now, it was just when Lei Heng’s group arrived near Lingguan Temple at the foot of the mountain. As he glanced over, the temple doors stood wide open, gaping like a demon’s maw.

“Huh, strange there’s no temple keeper around!”

Lei Heng suddenly came to a halt. Years of intuition seemed to have detected some foul odor there. “Hey!” “Just being thorough.” “Take your torches and check inside.” At Lei Heng’s single command, his subordinate constables noisily rushed into the temple. There, treating a darkness thick with spiderwebs as his paradise, a large man lay his completely naked body atop an offering table, using a rolled-up robe as a pillow, and slept soundly with loud snores.

“Whoa, sleepin’ here with a face like a demon…” “He ain’t even stirrin’.” Even the constables were astonished.

Hairy shins, chest hair, jet-black skin. His feet—accustomed to going barefoot—resembled elephant hide; his face bristled with red birthmarks; his eyebrows were so sparse they might as well have been absent. To crown it all, thick drool hung from his lips as he slept—a form utterly devoid of dignity.

“Hah! This one’s a wanted vagabond.” “If we press him, he’ll spill something.” “After all, these maple leaf scraps won’t even make a decent souvenir.”

No sooner had he muttered this than Lei Heng kicked the table there, overturned it along with the man's body, "Bind him! Don't let him utter a word!"

And with that, they suddenly subdued the man. Of course, the red-marked youth roared, thrashed, and resisted, but against over twenty constables, he stood no chance. He was dragged away to the foot of Dongxi Mountain like a wounded boar.

Now, originally, at the base of this mountain, there existed two settlements—West Xi Village and East Xi Village—divided by a single mountain stream.

In the past, in that West Xi Village, rumors arose that even in broad daylight supernatural beings would appear—in fact there were many strange occurrences at its deep pool where villagers both men and women would inexplicably drown there cattle and horses would be dragged into it and other uncanny events occurred frequently. Then one year.

A traveling monk,

“I shall pacify these spirits and hold proper rites for them,” declared the traveling monk. He had sutras carved upon a great blue stone slab, conducted rituals to banish evil apparitions, then departed. Thereafter, peace reigned in West Xi Village—for it came to be said that all its specters had fled east across the stream to Dongxi Village. The one who raged at this was Chao Gai, Dongxi’s village chief. “Let demons come by the thousand! But while I hold this office,” he thundered, “I’ll not suffer such slanderous jibes! You West Xi curs—see if your knees don’t buckle come dawn!”

Chao Gai crossed the mountain stream alone late at night, went over to the western bank, shouldered the memorial pagoda, and carried it back. And set it down with authority in a scenic spot of Dongxi Village, maintaining his composure.

From that time onward, this village chief came to bear a nickname.

—Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King.

That name became more famous. “Hey! Ain’t someone gonna get up and check? There’s been some guy bangin’ on the front gate for a while now, hasn’t there? Every last one of you’s a lazy layabout!”

Chao Gai had been shouting for some time, but eventually emerged from his bedroom and went out to the front gate.

That morning. No—it was still before dawn.

“Shut yer trap! Who the hell’s bangin’ at this hour?” When he opened it, there stood a dark, imposing figure. In the torchlight, a large man bound with ropes could be seen, and there was the familiar face of Lei Heng. “Well now, I was wonderin’ who it could be—if it ain’t the county constable sir,” said Chao Gai with mock deference. “What exactly brings you here at this ungodly hour?” “Hey, Chao Gai,” Lei Heng grunted. “Apologies for the crowd, but my men need breakfast. Lend us a corner of your estate for a spell.” “Easy enough,” Chao Gai replied, his voice dripping with false cheer. “But what’s this—some grand arrest you’ve made?”

“Nah, nothin’ that grand. Found some shady bastard sleepin’ inside Lingguan Temple, so we tied him up and are headin’ back.” “That place is also within the village—wouldn’t be right not to give you a heads-up.” “Well, that’s… Hmm, you may pass through as you are.” “I’ll rouse my servants now and have them prepare breakfast straightaway.”

Soon, the manor grounds were in a great bustle. Given that they were county officials, they spared no expense—providing not just food and wine but even preparing baths—in a great commotion.

In that lull, Chao Gai peered into a dark room of the gatehouse. As the village chief, he likely felt obligated to take a look at the bound man. When he looked, there stood a young man with a russet-hued body covered in countless wounds, his hands hoisted to the beam as he balanced on tiptoes. Whether from severe burns or a red birthmark, his face—mottled all over—was contorted as he endured the pain through gritted teeth.

"Hmm."

"A man I hadn't seen in the village before," Chao Gai thought. "Hey—where you from?" "I come from afar," the bound man strained. "Came lookin' for someone in these parts..." He winced as the ropes bit deeper. "...Then these bastards tied me up for no damn reason! Ow! Shit!" "What's this now?" Chao Gai crouched closer. "You're a strapping lad." His voice turned honeyed. "Who's this person you seek?" "The Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King of Dongxi Village." "Huh? What business?" "Can't say." The prisoner's burnt face twisted. "But I hear Chao Gai's the village chief here..." A sly pause. "...Boss—what village is this anyway?"

“It’s Dongxi Village. And this me you see here—I’m that Chao Gai.” “Oh! S-so you’re the Boss? …Then listen up. I was born in Dongluzhou.” “Ah—someone’s coming. Make it quick—spit out your business in one breath.” “To tell the truth, I caught wind of a helluva moneymakin’ scheme through some quick ears, an’ came here to tip you off ’bout it. I figured you’d be the one to talk to about it.”

“Alright—I’ll hear the rest later.” “Later? With these ropes on me?” “I’ll save you.—Become my nephew, my nephew now. Say you left the village at five or six years old but came seeking me after hearing rumors… Got it? Keep your story straight. I’ll handle the setup.”

With an air of innocence, Chao Gai immediately made his way to the pavilion where Lei Heng was resting and appeared at his seat.

“Oh? Already preparing to depart?” “Ah, Master Chao. I must apologize for troubling you at this uncivilized hour. With dawn breaking, it’s time we took our leave.”

“You’ve had quite the ordeal.” “And please, do visit again when you’re nearby.” At the gate, his subordinates were already beginning to assemble in formation, holding arrest implements like spears, clubs, and tridents. Lei Heng also departed with a flourish. Under the pretext of seeing them off, Chao Gai followed behind and then, upon seeing the bound man being dragged out from the gatehouse, “Wh-whoa… What an impressive giant of a man, isn’t he?”

And, deliberately widening his eyes, he muttered.

Seeming to have realized this was the moment, the bound man suddenly shouted at the top of his voice. “Ah! Uncle! Uncle, please help me!”

“Wh-what did you say?”

Chao Gai deliberately put on a puzzled look, then for a brief moment, gazed intently at the other person.

“Wh-what? Aren’t you Wang Xiaosan?”

“Y-yes, Uncle.” “Ah… So you still remembered this Xiaosan after all, Uncle.”

It was the arresting officers who were shocked. Especially Lei Heng was startled. “Huh? This man’s your nephew? …But such a vagabond?” “I must say, this is utterly shameful." “For shame! He’s the son of my sister and her husband.” “When this brat was still a snot-nosed six- or seven-year-old, his parents fled under cover of night to Nanjing, and we’ve heard nothing from them since.” “After that, this brat Xiaosan caused mischief and gave himself a severe burn on the head around fourteen or fifteen. Though he returned to the village with his parents for a time, being a layabout tainted by city ways, he soon left again.” “Since then, my sister and her husband have had nothing but misfortune, and I’d heard faint rumors that this red-scarred brat was lured by gangsters—never settling at home, peddling his filial impiety—but never could I imagine he’d earn Master Lei Heng’s ropes.”

“Hmm… You never know what surprises might come along.”

Chao Gai glared sharply at his fake nephew. “Hey, Xiaosan. Why’d you come all the way to your hometown village to pull wicked deeds?” “That’s not true, Uncle! I was just sleeping at Lingguan Temple ’cause I was hungry and had nowhere to stay.” “If you didn’t do any evil, why’d they arrest you?”

“I don’t know,” “It was all like a dream—before I knew it, I was tied up.” “Stop lying!” Feigning rage, Chao Gai snatched the constable’s club and suddenly struck the man’s shoulder two or three times. “Bastard, tell the truth—the truth!” “But Uncle, there’s no other way to put it.” “As you say—I’ve ruined myself and piled up filial impiety. I came here starving, hoping you’d beat this wickedness out of me.” “That’s exactly why I didn’t steal anything! I thought once dawn broke, I could reach your house—”

“This guy thinks he can try to play on someone’s sympathies.” “Do you think I’d fall for such a cheap 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 suspicion in the first place, he intervened to placate the situation, “If he’s the family’s nephew, there’s no issue. Quickly, untie those ropes for him.” and also gave orders to his subordinates. “Tch, you’re one lucky bastard, Xiaosan. “Xiaosan, don’t you forget this kindness,” Chao Gai said, glaring at him sharply—

“I must apologize for putting you through such wasted effort in the course of your official duties.” “Might I trouble you to partake of a palate cleanser in the inner chambers before taking your leave?” He pressed Lei Heng with renewed consolation, quietly slipping several silver coins as gratuity. To the subordinates too he distributed their shares, and with his scheme flawlessly executed, Lei Heng’s group soon departed through the gate.

In the inner chambers of the rear manor, what followed then unfolded.

Having been provided with brand-new clothes and a head covering, and having eaten breakfast, the vagabond—as though he had fully regained his vigor—now sat before Chao Gai and began to disclose his true origins. “By nature I’m a yakuza, born in Dongluzhou.” “Though I call myself Liu Tang, that name came from parents who died before I knew their faces.” “On account of this ruddy complexion, folks have given me nicknames like Red Horse and Red-Haired Demon.” “I beg you’ll remember this humble one henceforth.”

With that, he performed the customary first-meeting formalities. “—Your esteemed reputation had long reached my ears, and I had been wishing to forge a connection with you. Then, just recently, I caught wind of a lucrative opportunity from smuggler associates in Shandong and Hebei. When I judged who alone could be consulted to execute such a grand scheme—why, none other than the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King himself! That is to say, Master Chao. And so I have come.” “I’ve got the gist,” “But this ‘grand scheme’ of a lucrative job—what exactly is it?”

“Is it all right if I speak of it here?” “Ah.” “Wait a moment,” Chao Gai said, compelled by Liu Tang’s insistence to rise to his feet. He locked the door and drew the window curtains— “Now. Rest assured and speak.” “In truth, within the near future, Governor Liang Zhongshu of Daming Prefecture in Beijing is supposed to secretly send out 100,000 guan worth of gold, silver, jewels, and antiques to Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital—though I doubt you’re aware of this.” “I don’t know. And for what purpose?”

“It’s meant as a birthday gift for Governor Liang’s wife’s father—Minister Cai, who currently holds the highest position in Emperor Song’s court, see?” “Well, so it’s an open grand bribery between powerful clans, then.” “That’s right—exact~ly what it is! In other words, it’s all ill-gotten wealth—squeezed from the people’s sweat and grease through wicked schemes. Even if we target and snatch that, I reckon Heaven itself surely wouldn’t call us wicked for that!”

“Last year, there were rumors it was stolen by bandits along the way—” “That’s exactly why, Boss! Wouldn’t be right lettin’ others take what’s ours to grab! Word on the street says the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King’s a real man’s man—spears and staves ain’t just for show with you. And I’ve heard tell you don’t truck with injustice neither.” “Enough flattery. I ain’t one to swallow sweet talk.” “Beggin’ your pardon! Didn’t mean it like that. But even if he’s Beijing’s top commander—truckin’ a hundred thousand guan yearly to his wife’s family in these parched times? Now that’s what I call a master thief! So here’s the play—we outsmart ’em and take it for ourselves!... Whaddya say, Boss? Sound like your kinda reckonin’?”

“There was last year’s failure before this.” “Surely this year they wouldn’t send out such bumbling guards who’d let themselves get robbed without a fight.” “Nonsense! This Liu Tang here knows his way around a fight.” “Especially if you, Lord Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King, would just say ‘yes’ and take charge.” “I see—the plan does sound remarkable.” “Though my appetite isn’t quite whetted yet.” “So I’ll hand it over to you then.” “—this golden opportunity.” “Well… Let’s give it proper thought.” “You should go have a drink in the guest room and rest up proper.” “Whether we do it or not—I’ll settle my mind after some thinking, then we’ll talk again. How’s that?”

Having no choice, Liu Tang, the Red-Haired Demon, tentatively withdrew to the guest room and sat alone at the provided sake table, gulping down drink after drink.

But no matter what，he found it utterly dissatisfying. Chao Gai’s noncommittal reply didn’t sit well with him. “Hah! “He must’ve taken me for some fool and decided I wasn’t fit to be a partner.” Thinking this，the alcohol stoked the fires of his resentment until he could bear it no longer.

When he abruptly glared out the window, a bareback horse stood tethered at the rear gate. What thought crossed his mind? Liu Tang muttered to himself, “...Alright.” And grabbed a greatsword from the wall-mounted spear rack, “Constable Lei Heng hasn’t gone far yet.” After all—because of that bastard, I got tied up and whined like a pathetic fool, so even Chao Gai came to look down on me as some undisciplined wretch. “If I chase down Lei Heng, take either that bastard’s written apology or his damn arm, and show it off, even Chao Gai will have to see me in a new light.”

What confidence drove him? The Red-Haired Demon vaulted out lightly and galloped like an arrow on horseback from the manor’s rear gate toward the county highway.—Meanwhile, the sun rose high above the pastures’ morning dew; a hundred birds sang in the trees, and crimson clouds trailed beautifully over distant mountains. If only there were no human conflicts upon this earth and no rot in the Song Dynasty’s governance—this world would be paradise entire.

The village teacher posted a notice reading “No Classes Today” and left.

After all, they were constables patrolling the county—not ones to hurry on their rounds. Having been treated to morning wine on empty stomachs, Lei Heng and his men had become all the more inclined to amble along idly. And once they crossed that stone bridge ahead, it would bring them to the border of the next neighboring village.

“Hey! Wait up!” “Lei Heng! Wait!” Startled by the sudden voice behind them, they whirled around—and there was that Red-Scarred Demon, having nimbly dismounted his bareback horse and tethered it to a willow, now charging forward with his greatsword drawn. “Ah! You’re the manor’s nephew whose bonds I released earlier.” “What brings you chasing after this Lei Heng?” “I’ve come to collect a written apology.” “Now write! —‘Last night, you tied up an innocent man without cause—a truly inexcusable error—’ Hand over that apology note!”

“Don’t fuck with me.” “You’ve forgotten the mercy I showed you.” “Mercy? That’s rich coming from you!” “You took silver from Uncle under the table, didn’t you?” “Ugh, what a fucking pain!” “Hand over a written apology or I’ll chop off your arm and take it with me!” “This bastard…!” Lei Heng seethed. “I let you off because you claimed to be Chao Gai’s nephew—now you dare strut about like this!”

“Oh, you dare?! What the hell do you take me for? At Lingguan Temple, I was caught off guard—but this here me’s different now! This is payback for those ropes—no questions asked! Lei Heng, brace yourself!” The greatsword’s arc flashed overhead— Lei Heng had no time to dodge; he drew his official sword and blocked with a clang. They clashed fiercely amidst sparks for dozens of exchanges— The constables swarmed in uproar, but found no opening to intervene from the flanks.

“Such a brat”—Lei Heng boasted to his surrounding men while fighting. “—I alone am more than enough. Stay back. Watch from a distance.”

However, whether the outcome would unfold as his bravado suggested remained uncertain, the situation appearing utterly unpredictable. If Lei Heng’s swordsmanship carried the grandeur of a phoenix, then the Red-Haired Demon’s greatsword held the resonance of an eagle beating its wings. When the crimson shadow of the Red-Haired Demon sank into the whirlwind, the thunderous form of Lei Heng would leap and bound over him. Each had their own style, their own techniques—a contest of secret arts conducted in accordance with martial principles—and thus this duel showed no sign of reaching its conclusion.

But as Lei Heng’s subordinates, they could no longer stand idly by. “Ah! The Boss is in danger!”

Someone shouted.

At the same time, they surged forward to join the fray.

However, just before they could act, from the latticed gate of a quiet, verdant house beside the road, a figure as graceful as a field crane darted out. “Now, pray hold your blades.” With the weighted chain he held in his hand, he separated the two combatants,

“Both of you, please sheathe your swords,” Wu Yong addressed Lei Heng and Liu Tang. “What has transpired here? Why not entrust the matter to me? If you’re going to put on such a spectacle before my house, I can’t very well remain a mere spectator now, can I?” He mediated with a dry chuckle rather than forceful intervention. Lei Heng and Liu Tang instinctively lowered their blades to regard this man—none other than Wu Yong, the Resourceful Star: a village schoolteacher whose talents far exceeded this backwater hamlet, bearing the Daoist name Jialiang and nickname Xuejiu. Colloquially known as both Wu Xueren and Master Wu Yong.

Clad in a black-edged hemp robe and wearing a scholar’s headcloth, he had a long beard—yet he was no stooped old man. His fair complexion and vibrant red lips brimmed with vitality; beneath his clear eyes lay the bearing of an intellectual. The scholar hailed from a family long rooted in the land. Public repute held that his scholarship spanned myriad volumes, his mastery of the Six Secret Teachings and Three Strategies was unparalleled, his wisdom approached that of Zhuge Kongming, and his talent could rival even Chen Ping. Moreover, in the Jizhou region, it was said that through this man alone, the purity of children’s songs remained untainted, and the sound of reading still carried across the countryside—such was the measure of praise he received.

“Step aside, schoolteacher! You’ll get yourself hurt!” Liu Tang kept snarling. Lei Heng likewise showed no restraint—a government constable bound by official duty. “Xueren. Stay out of this. I won’t show mercy.” “A bandit? This man here?” “No—claims to be the manor master’s nephew.” Liu Tang barked from the flank: “That’s the idiot constable who tied up an innocent man—me!—with his damn ropes!” “Still spewing lies?” “You bet I am! Gimme that apology letter!”

“Hmph! You want another taste of the ropes?”

With a snap, their heels kicked up sand—in that instant when it seemed they would clash once more—somewhere,

“You fools! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Chao Gai’s voice called out.

Breathless from his belated arrival, he no sooner leapt from horseback than wedged himself between the two men and bowed to Lei Heng first. "My profound apologies—this wretch is beyond reason." "Though your wrath burns righteously, I implore you grant clemency."

And then, he gave Liu Tang’s shoulder a single shove, “You booze-guzzling bastard! What were you thinking, charging out like that after already downing your liquor in such a short time?” Abruptly, he snatched the nodachi from his hand and lunged to strike with the back of the blade. Startled, Wu Yong grabbed his wrist, “Ah!” “Now, now, there’s no need for such anger.” The one who stopped him was Wu Xueren. “Now that I’ve heard the details, it seems to be nothing more than a petty squabble over a simple misunderstanding.” “And with alcohol involved, it’s all the more reason.” “Constable Lei, though it may be difficult to forgive while you’re in the midst of your duties, could you not grant us forbearance here for the sake of Master Chao Gai and myself?”

With apologies from both men, even Lei Heng could not remain obstinate. Taking this as their cue, Lei Heng gathered his subordinates and departed, while Liu Tang—having been told by Chao Gai, “Return to the manor ahead of us”—likewise mounted a bareback horse and rode back grinning slyly.

Now, only Wu Yong and Chao Gai remained. "I must say, today I witnessed something extraordinary. It’s fortunate you arrived when you did—otherwise, that duel between the nodachi and the official sword… well, who could have predicted the outcome? Lei Heng is a renowned swordsman, but that red-scarred fellow is no pushover either. Perhaps even Master Lei Heng might have been defeated." “Oh? …So that’s how it was with that Red Horse?” “Ha ha ha ha! Red Horse did well. Truly, he has an air that evokes Lü Bu’s beloved steed Red Hare from the Later Han. I heard he was your nephew.”

“No, no, Master—there are profound circumstances behind that matter. How about this—I have a matter of some urgency I wish to discuss with you.”

“An urgent matter? And one of such gravity?” “Truly, it is a matter of utmost urgency—one that has entirely exceeded my own capacity to resolve.” “Wait a moment. Unfortunately, it’s a school day—but I’ll leave a notice on the wall.” Wu Yong first entered the house. He instructed the old woman about something, then took up a brush and swiftly wrote out a notice, which he pasted onto the classroom wall where the schoolchildren would easily notice it,

“That should do.” “That should do.” “Now then, Master Chao Gai—shall we go together?”

With that, he came outside.

Chao Gai had suddenly paused because he had been distracted by the wording of the notice Wu Yong had left on the wall. To make it easy for even children to read, it was written as follows.

Teacher today Urgent business; I'm away. Recitation: Canceled Calligraphy: Do at home TO THOSE WHO PLAY: Play with frogs

Do not fall into the river.

Consultations, too, depend on the matter at hand—or so they say.

From Liang Zhongshu of Beijing to Minister Cai in the capital—should we seize the birthday tribute worth 100,000 guan? “Or let it pass?” “Well.” “—If we are to seize it, Master, what ingenious strategy might you have?” Even for Master Strategist Wu Yong, the Resourceful Star—now likened to Kongming himself—this was not a question to which he could readily give reply.

A room in the Chao family’s library, cleared of others. “The truth is…” In a hushed voice, Master Chao Gai meticulously disclosed this dawn’s events—Liu Tang’s true nature and the intelligence he had brought—until even Wu Xueren fell into prolonged silent contemplation.

Before responding to this, he privately reflected:

All of this was but an inevitable heretical tableau—the festering evils of the Song Dynasty being etched across the mortal realm. To decry this as mere moral decay among the people would have been folly. If one simply regarded evil as evil, then those dark clouds grew denser the higher the stratum. The loftier the echelon, the vaster their spread. Moreover, they hid behind governance, let authority speak their will, openly committed evils they had rationalized—all without a shred of shame. In contrast, the common folk's evils were largely petty things. To survive. To grasp some meager joy in living. For shared human wants. Or for rebellion.

Especially now, there were many rebels. Was it not the rotten soil of the Song Dynasty itself that had caused them to breed from the earth like worms? "Was it not those noble officials and high-ranking ministers who arrogantly believed 'This world exists for us alone'?"

Liang Zhongshu, Madame Cai. Minister Cai. Those too were but a mere two or three grains among the arrogant stars. In contrast, upon the earth, it had been an inevitable fate that rebellious stars—destined someday to battle the arrogant stars of the upper echelons—took root. These Misfit Stars naturally dwelled in the soil of the common folk and possessed the nature of mischief stars that could not help but commit misdeeds. Yet they still knew a modicum of righteousness, harbored compassion for one another, did not oppress the weak, and at times understood how men might truly weep together.

Their simplicity deserved cherishing; their wildness called for compassion—yet they retained humanity's essential core. Could one not avoid discarding them or meting punishment? Might they instead become comrades sharing both affection and discontent—employed wisely, guided rightly—granting purpose within this festering society? If such a path existed... then across these Song-ruled lands where people burned in misery, might fresh winds stir and endless green fields unfurl? On this fragile hope one could yet stake a wager.

“Master Chao Gai…”

Finally raising his face from that deep contemplation, Wu Xueren said, “Go ahead. I shall lend my stratagems as well.”

Blunt though it was, each word rang clear, imbued with the force of conviction.

“Oh. “Then would you be willing to lend your stratagems?” “Actually, last night I had an uncanny dream, you know...””

“What sort of dream...?” “A dream where the Big Dipper fell upon the ridge of my mansion. Strange as it was, this morning’s events... I was torn whether it boded well or ill, but your counsel has steeled me, Master Strategist.”

"But even if I were to tell you to stop, you would likely not cease."

“As your keen insight discerns,” “For this Chao Gai, even without crossing dangerous bridges—with my ancestral manor passed through generations—I’ve no lack of food or clothing.” “Yet gazing upon this world today, something festers deep in my gut—a murky discontent clouding my days.” “And now this scheme comes knocking.” “To speak plain—it may walk twin paths of greed and righteous fury.” “But Governor Liang won’t tread last year’s ruts again.” “This’ll be thorny—no mistake.”

“Resolve precedes action. ...But as for your opinion, Master Strategist—”

“We absolutely need seven or eight choice men bound as one.” “Even with dozens of your hired hands and farm laborers, they’d be worthless.”

“The dream I had last night was of the Big Dipper. ...First there’s you, Master Strategist, myself, and Red-Horse Liu—only three of us here. But couldn’t we gather enough to match the number of stars?”

“Well…” Wu Xueren knitted his brows again, but— “No, it’s not impossible—I’ve unexpectedly recalled someone.”

“Oh? The person whom Master speaks of with such conviction—” “Three brothers. Men of profound loyalty, peerless martial skill—they’d march through fire and flood when duty demands.” “Hm—in these times, where might such peerless men lie hidden?”

At this, Chao Gai involuntarily slid his knees forward.

Wu Xueren said all at once. “These three brothers are called Ruan Xiao’er, Ruan Xiaowu, and Ruan Xiaoqi—true brothers by blood.” “They live in Shijie Village by Liangshan Marsh in Jizhou. Though they make their living as fishermen along the riverbanks day to day, smuggling on the waterways is routine among their kind.” “To be sure—though illiterate men—this humble scholar had faith in their righteous hearts and martial prowess.” “It’s been two or three years since we last met, but they surely haven’t forgotten this humble scholar.”

“Ah, the Ruan brothers! I’ve heard vague rumors about them.” “Ah, Shijie Village—it’s merely two days’ journey. Why don’t we send a messenger and try summoning them here?”

“Would those brothers even come? Even if this Wu Yong goes to them and proposes a discussion, unless I persuade them thoroughly with this silver tongue of mine—” “Indeed. If they’re men of such caliber, then they’re all the more dependable.” “Master Strategist—would you be willing to go?” “I can go... though first I must write another postponement notice for my pupils’ classes.” “Even departing tonight would see us arrive by noon two days hence.” “Before that—we’d have Red-Horse Liu join us for farewell drinks before setting out.”

“Very well, let’s do that.” “Well, well—in life’s mornings and evenings, one never knows what may come to pass indeed.”

He returned once to the schoolhouse and reappeared by evening. At that time, Red-Horse Liu Tang was also present, and it seemed he had already heard the full details from their master Chao Gai.

The three of them drank until the second watch.—From time to time, their voices would drop low, as though engaged in secret council. If that birthday tribute worth 100,000 guan at current prices were to travel from Beijing to Dongjing, along which route would it pass? Would they alter the path from last year or not? These remained unknown variables. It was now early May. The birthday tribute was said to arrive by July 15th.—There still remained a full seventy to eighty days. “We’ve days enough for preparation,” “But recruiting the three brothers must be done swiftly.”

Wu Yong, having drunk moderately, promptly began preparing for the journey. Outside, it was a night of tepid mist, and the mild weather left nothing to be desired. “Then I’ll deliberately refrain from seeing you off.”

“Hmm, let us avoid prying eyes,” said Wu Yong. “I would have Mr. Liu Tang remain quietly in the guest chamber until my return.” “You need not worry,” replied Chao Gai. “We shall await your favorable tidings.”

The shadow of Wu Xueren, who had departed through the gate, soon faded into the hazy nocturnal mist.

A day passed. Two days later, around noon.

Already, his figure could be seen at the edge of Shijie Village in the water country.

It was land he had frequented many times before. Ruan Xiao’er’s house needed no seeking out. Facing reed-covered banks and nestled against hills, stretching from the posts where several small boats were moored to the fence of a thatched hut, a single torn fishing net hung drying. “Is anyone about? Who might you be?”

Peering into the side room, he wondered if they were perhaps taking a nap.

“Who’s there?” A young man abruptly emerged. This was Ruan Xiao’er. A hip-length fishing robe hung open at the chest. Though his thick chest hair was unremarkable, the slab-like expanse of his ribcage—resembling stone—sufficiently evoked Sichuan’s sheer cliffs. “Oh! ...Well now—” His thick brows and wide mouth all at once dissolved into a childlike expression, “What a rare sight! Isn’t this Master Strategist? What wind’s blown you our way?”

“A sudden request has come up, you see.” “Oh? And what might this business be?” “At a certain acquaintance’s wealthy household, there is a celebration.” "So, they absolutely need about ten golden carp weighing fourteen or fifteen jin each—it’s quite an urgent request I’ve been entrusted with." “This is troublesome.” “Well, come on in.” “No, rather, let’s head to the inlet across the river.” “There’s a modest little tavern there, you know.”

Barefoot, Ruan Xiao'er rushed out, immediately untied the small boat from its post, pulled Wu Yong aboard, and began rowing with practiced oar strokes.

Moving along the river was akin to sweeping swiftly on one’s own feet. Before long, as they passed diagonally through the river’s center, through the thick reeds, they glimpsed another boat. Then from their side, Ruan Xiao’er called out. “Hey, Brother Xiao Qi!... What of Brother Xiaowu? What does Brother Xiaowu intend?” The water echoed as a reply came from across. “Oh, Brother Xiao’er. “...Have you some business with Brother Xiaowu?” “Great news! Master Wu has arrived!”

“What’s that? Master Wu Yong, you say? Don’t lie!”

“It’s true! C’mon, you too!” “We’ve brought Master Wu along and are headin’ for a drink right now!”

“This won’t do—spouting nonsense like that! What a blunder I’ve made!” Parting the reed thicket with his oar, the figure now swiftly approaching was none other than Ruan Xiaoqi—the youngest brother notorious in their village as the Living Yanluo. Perhaps he’d been fishing earlier. Clad in a bamboo hat and checkered short-sleeved wetsuit, his large protruding eyes gleamed fiercely beneath the hat’s shadow while his iron-like sinews spoke of unyielding strength. He steadied his boat’s gunwale against theirs. “My apologies, Master,” he said. “It’s just... it’s been too long since we last met.”

“Shall we go then, together?” “I’d be honored to join you. …Let’s swing by my mother’s house first—we should invite Brother Xiaowu too.”

They approached the nearby shore. Here too was a small hamlet encircled by water. Toward that one house, from aboard the boat. “Mother. Is Brother Xiaowu here?” “He’s not here,” came the terse reply. “—For being a fisherman’s parent, I haven’t laid eyes on a single fish these past few days. That brother of mine—every day he’s just out there gambling nonstop, I tell ya. I can’t believe it. Just now he snatched my hairpin and disappeared without a trace!”

Xiao'er scratched his head and started rowing again as if fleeing. "My apologies, Master—I ended up making you listen to such unpleasant things. Please don't take offense." "Ha ha ha ha." "Such family matters—it's not as if this humble scholar is hearing of them for the first time." "But hey, the timing's all wrong... Brother Xiaowu ain't havin' any luck neither, but truth be told, us brothers—we're all mad for gamblin', yet lousy at it, I tell ya."

“Hasn’t it been going well lately?” “Lately, Master, things’ve been bearable enough—but over a year now we’ve been stuck in dire poverty, everything’s been snatched from us.” “Catching fish alone—no matter how much we haul in—it’ll never cut it.” “Brother Xiao’er, quit it,” Xiao Qi cut in from the side. “After making me listen to your pointless grumbling and scratching your head, what’s with you airing your own miserable gripes now?”

“Ain’t no difference. “Master， please laugh.”

“Ha ha ha ha!” Master Wu laughed heartily as they had requested. “You’re always so lively. Fortune belongs to the moment. When the time comes, even flowers facing that way may bloom facing this way come morning.” Even as he spoke these words, deep down he smirked to himself—there was promise here; his scheme was taking root.

As they rowed onward, the fishing village came into view. The tavern’s flag was visible. Laundry from the houses by the bridge could also be seen. The bow steadily and swiftly drew closer to the shore.

“Ah, Master! Perfect timing! Xiaowu was just here!” “Hmm, where?” “Look, over there.”

Looking where Xiaoqi pointed, there indeed was a man who had just come down from the bridge approach, beginning to untie the boat’s mooring. What hung from his wrist appeared to be two strings of copper coins threaded onto a rope. His brow—exuding a murderous air—was not merely haggard from gambling losses; given his epithet “Short-Lived Erlang,” it must have been a unique physiognomy all his own. His brawling swiftness could be inferred from his angular shoulders and long shins. From the frayed collar of his fishing garb peeked a faded leopard tattoo—rather than diminishing his ferocity, it seemed to heighten it—while a single pomegranate blossom was tucked into the side of his diagonally worn patched headscarf.

As they saw each other and rowed closer,

“Hey there, Brother Xiaowu”—Master Wu called out. “So? Any luck blowing your way yet?” “Who I thought it was…” Xiaowu finally relaxed his suspicious expression and laughed. “Oh Master—I never would’ve thought.” “I’ve been watching from that bridge over there for a while now, you know.” “Where are you off to, Brother Xiao’er?” “The tavern up ahead.” “Ain’t ya comin’?” “There’s one by the bridge too.” “There’s courtesans too.” “Nah, Master—for your treat, scenery over courtesans, right?” “From now till sunset, the reeds and water, returning sails, and those Liangshan Marsh mountains’ll shift from crimson glaze to violet—even the likes of us’ll be struck dumb by such a view.” “That’s the real feast here.” “Let’s row another stretch and head to the waterside tavern.”

“Very well—let’s line up the bows of all three boats and push in.”

Xiaowu’s pomegranate-adorned headscarf fluttered as he leapt into his skiff, oars soon pounding rhythmically to catch up. Master Wu Yong’s strategic net—meant to catch golden-scaled prizes—guided their return to the village. “Ah, the wine flows sweet, and even the air tastes finer! That we meet on such a day proves we still draw breath. Too long has it been since I last shared cups with you three brothers.” “Master,” Xiaowu observed, “this tavern pleases you greatly.” “Hmm.” Wu Yong swirled his drink. “Even a poor fisher’s dramshop may outshine Yueyang Tower’s jade chalices... See how willows and pagodas weave emerald mist along the bank? Peer beneath these eaves—lotus blossoms sway like three thousand palace consorts dancing sleeve-to-sleeve.”

“Hahahaha! Never seen you so cheerful before, Master! Right, Brother?”

When Xiao’er, the eldest brother, spoke, his younger brothers Xiaowu and Xiaoqi also spoke in unison,

“What a relief—we were worried this whole trip bringing you here might’ve been for nothing. …By the way, Brother.”

Here, Xiaowu interjected,

“This humble one alone hasn’t heard yet—what’s this business that brought Master Wu Yong suddenly to our village?” “Well now,” said Ruan Xiao’er, tapping his head lightly— “Master here says his acquaintance wants ten golden carps weighin’ fourteen or fifteen jin each… But these days ain’t no easy catch ’round our fishing grounds. Still—this big patron needs ’em for weddin’s sake no matter what.” “Right troublesome bind.”

“Hmm, that’s quite the tough request you’ve got there.” “...Ah, whatever. Master, how about another round?” “I’m already growing quite drunk myself. The sun hangs dim through the haze, and my thoughts turn foggy.” “Master—crude though it be—won’t you lodge at our humble home tonight? This tavern won’t stay open much longer.” “Aye—though I impose—I’ll accept your kindness. I must return with ten golden carps regardless, or face my friend empty-handed.”

This was a pretext—the golden carps that Wu the Strategist had envisioned were never fish with golden scales to begin with. He had meant to draw all three brothers into Chao Gai’s grand scheme as prey caught in his net—but revealing this truth here seemed ill-advised, so he instead declared: “Well then, shall we take our leave? Hey there! Tavern keeper—settle our bill!” “Nonsense! We can’t have you paying, Master…” “Let us brothers handle this tab.”

“Very well,” said Wu Yong. “Then I shall bring along a token of thanks. Tavern keeper—fill a large jug with wine, pack twenty jin of beef and a pair of chickens, and load them onto that small boat.” Wu Yong handed one tael of silver to the tavern keeper and made his request. The three Ruan brothers returned to their respective skiffs, took Wu Yong aboard, then rowed across the evening-rippled river toward home. “Come now—make yourselves at home!”

The place they were led back to was Ruan Xiao’er’s house, which they had briefly stopped by during the day on their way. Among the three brothers, apparently only the eldest had a wife. They promptly instructed his wife and the fishing ground’s bait boy to prepare the meat and chickens they had brought back, setting them to cooking. “Master, here you can drink all night if you wish, so please make yourself at ease and enjoy to your heart’s content tonight.”

With that, they rolled up the tattered reed screen of the back room overlooking the water and gathered around the moonlight streaming in.

The food was ready. The cups began making their rounds.

On the river, their briefly sobered drunkenness flared up again, and the conversation immediately gained momentum. “Now then, brothers.” “I know I sound like a broken lute string harping on this, but why’s gathering ten golden carps such a cursed ordeal?” “Well, Master, that’s because while you’re versed in scholarship and military strategy, you’re blind to worldly affairs.” “Hmm… That one struck true.” “But let’s hear the particulars.”

“Thinking every inlet or sea’s got fish wherever you look—that’s pure worldly ignorance, see? Let me lay it plain…” “Hmm… This all sounds mighty grave, doesn’t it?” “Aye, grave talk it is—but this here Stone Tablet Lake we call our fishing grounds? ’Bout as useful as a cat’s piss puddle. To haul up carp big ’nuff to weigh ten jin a tail, we gotta row clear out to yonder Liangshan Marsh you see ’cross the way—ain’t no choice ’bout it.”

“Now that’s what doesn’t add up. Liangshan Marsh’s waters connect right here—you can see it plain as day. Why can’t you fish there?” “A demon’s lair, that’s what! Liangshan Marsh ain’t no ordinary place—” “Demon’s lair? This grows stranger still. What makes it so?” “Ain’t worth breathin’ a word about.” “Surely it’s not some holy ground where fishin’s forbidden?” “Forbidden? Hell—get too close careless-like, and folks like us’ll lose their heads! Truth be told, them marsh waters used to be our prime fishin’ grounds. But since them bandits moved in, we’ve been stuck in this cursed poverty. Makes your blood boil, but what can we do?” “Ain’t that right, brothers?”

The brothers exchanged glances and sighed. Wu Yong secretly thought to himself, Got it! It seemed that around this point lay the key to drawing out the brothers’ true intentions. Having perceived this, he set his cup down, “Hoh... So that’s the cause of your decline? A matter of lifelong consequence, no less.” “You three possess physiques beyond ordinary men and youth aplenty—why then do you simply suck your fingers and submit to such a fate? Hmm... I can’t fathom it. Won’t you share a bit more of what’s truly troubling you?”

Even within the modest fishing community of Stone Tablet Village, the three brothers—who had made a name for themselves as men of repute—could not help but feel some resentment at being told, “Why do you suck your fingers and submit to such a fate?” Thus, they began indignantly pouring out their grievances in turn—a reaction that was exactly what Master Strategist Wu Yong had been angling for. “…After all, Master,” said Ruan Xiao’er. “That Liangshan Marsh you’re talking about—it’s the stronghold of a bandit horde. To put it bluntly, it’s a nest of lawless men who fear nothing under heaven—there’s no competing with that.”

“That’s the first I’ve heard of this. What sort of wretches have congregated there, anyway?” “There’s one called Wang Lun, the White-Clad Scholar—he’s their main leader, I suppose. This guy Wang Lun’s some scholar dropout who failed the capital’s official exams, they say. Under him are big shots like Sky-Scraping Du Xuan, Vajra in the Clouds Song Wan, and Dryland Crocodile Zhu Gui—and they’ve got six or seven hundred men at their command. We brothers could grind our teeth to dust, but there’s no way we’d stand a chance against that lot.”

“Hmm… No wonder,” Wu Yong mused. “So it’s such an extravagant bandit stronghold?” “Moreover,” Ruan Xiao’er added, “there’s this Panther Head Lin Chong—a former instructor of the Song Dynasty’s Imperial Guard who recently joined their ranks—and they say he’s a man of remarkably sharp skills. These days, just hearing ‘Liangshan Marsh’ is enough to make even a crying child fall silent.” “But—” Wu Yong tilted his head slightly. “How curious—that too.” “Master,” Ruan Xiao’er asked, “what puzzles you so?” “But even if we now wallow in the lowest depths of this corrupt age,” Wu Yong countered, “above us still sits the Song government, and across the provinces stand guardians and administrators of every region. In the countryside, there are local magistrates and county officials—how can anyone believe that such brazen bandits would dare defy heaven itself and occupy a corner of Shandong?”

“Well, that’s just it, Master. These days, officials are weak to bribes but harsh on the people! When they come to villages for land surveys or incidents, they devour every last pig, sheep, chicken, and duck—then demand our daughters for their evening entertainment and load their horses with ‘gifts’ before leaving! Yet when they encounter even slightly troublesome bandits or ruffians, fleeing’s the best they can manage! Even if we report thefts or assaults, they’ve never once shown up in time to do a damn thing about it!”

“That’s terrible.” “Can that really be true?” “If you think that’s a lie, Master, why don’t you try living around here yourself for a bit?” “I needn’t witness such things.” “Fortunately, in the land where I dwell, there is a manor called Chao Gai that refuses to yield.” “Perhaps because of that, it’s not so bad—though not by much.” “So when dealing with them, if you don’t have either wealth or strength, you can’t even hold your ground.” “The weaker the land and the more honest its people appear, the more the current officials wield their authority.”

“Truly, they act as if these barren lands were their golden age.” “This demands action!”

“That’s right, Master. “It ain’t like we’re peeking into those officials’ cushy lives behind their fences outta some petty spite—but to put it grand-like, they split gold and silver by the scale, take whatever fancy clothes they want, and stuff themselves with lavish feasts. “They’re all making folks weep with their schemes—it’s enough to boil a man’s blood! “We work our fingers to the bone, yet why can’t we ever manage to live like them? Every now and then, it makes a man feel downright pathetic, I tell ya.”

“What’s this, you men?!” Wu Yong, the Master Strategist rebuked them sharply, emphasizing his words as he glared fiercely at the brothers’ faces. “Didn’t you all just mock those rotten officials like your mouths were dirtied by even speakin’ of ’em? Yet with that same mouth, you whine about not livin’ like ’em? What spineless bellyachin’! Shameful way for good men to carry on!” “Master, forgive us—we’ve gone and spilled such worthless complaints. We’ve no face left to show you.”

“No need to apologize.” “But I’m not saying this out of favoritism for you brothers.” “Why must three such fine men as yourselves go without enough to eat…”

“Thank you, Master. Only you would speak such words for us.” “If there were someone like you—someone who’d value the skills and grit of men like us enough to buy ’em up wholesale… But there’s no such folk in this world today.” “Oh, there is.” “Is there such a person, Master?” “Not entirely nonexistent.—Why not try going to Liangshan Marsh?” “No way, no way!”

The three brothers—all three of them—waved their hands while snorting with laughter. "If that's your grand scheme, Master, we wouldn't need your telling—we've had our eyes on Liangshan Marsh day and night long enough to've rolled into that den already. But sitting there as chief's that White-Clad Scholar Wang Lun—a man we can't stomach." "He's timid—a man without an ounce of gallantry or righteousness, from what we've heard." "No matter how starving we get, we ain't about to serve under some mud-stinking bastard like that!"

“Well said.” “If you lose that backbone, you’re no man at all.” “Now then—if there were someone here you could respect from your gut, someone who recognized your worth as men and offered to take you in—what would you do?”

“Ahahaha.” “Not a chance.” “Such a person…”

“Well now, if there were such a person—” “That’s plain as day! It’s about true men recognizing true men for who they are!” “Exactly.” “Then we’d brave fire and flood without hesitation!” “Then let me formally introduce someone here to you three brothers. Will you meet him?” “Who’s that?” “Chao Gai—chief of Dongxi Village, just a few dozen li from here. A man I’ve long regarded as peerless across Shandong and Hebei.”

“Ah! The manor chief known as the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King?” “Do you know him?” “No, we’ve only heard of him. They say he’s a man of deep righteousness, strong chivalry, and most generous with his wealth—but…” “To tell the truth—this humble scholar’s current errand is none other than a task entrusted by Chao Gai himself.” “So what’s this about? Was all that talk of needing ten golden carp just a lie?”

“It was an expedient means.” “Forgive this deception.” “For until I could plumb the depths of your brothers’ hearts, this was no ordinary secret to be carelessly divulged.” “But now I harbor not a sliver of doubt regarding your trio’s honor.” “What manner of undertaking is this?” “The full particulars shall be disclosed after you three swear brotherhood with Chao Gai over cups of wine. To speak plainly—this grand design combines lifetime riches with the righteous chastisement of corrupt officials.” “In essence, we aim to achieve both ends through one masterstroke—and it’s Chao Gai’s ardent desire that you three brothers join this venture. …Thus has your humble Wu Yong come bearing this invitation.”

“Is this true, Master?”

The brothers’ eyes lit up. Ruan Xiaowu, the "Short-Lived Second Son," overwhelmed with emotion, slapped his own neck with an open hand, "I’ve been waiting for this!" "This neck of mine might as well have been waiting for someone who’d recognize this man’s worth and take him in!" "Right, Brother?" "Damn right!" "If you, Master, were to take in this man alone, we’d have been ready at any time—but now that even Master Chao Gai deems us worthy and seeks our strength, there’s not a shred of hesitation left!" "Let’s swear the oath right here, right now." "Lay out every last secret you’ve got." "We may look rough around the edges, but we ain’t no backstabbing scum!"

“Here’s the truth of it—on July 15th, a tribute of gold, silver, and jewels worth 100,000 guan will be secretly sent from Beijing to Minister Cai, the highest-ranking official in the imperial court, as a birthday gift.” “—The senders are Liang Zhongshu and his wife, who reign over Daming Prefecture in Beijing.” “—Needless to say, all that treasure was wrung from the people’s veins by institutions of misrule... To seize it would be nothing less than heaven’s retribution.” “As for ambushing that convoy en route—those details must still be thrashed out in secret council with Chao Gai and our comrades when gathered. But that’s our aim in essence.” “Will you come with this humble scholar to Dongxi Village straightaway?”

“We’ll go with you!” Xiao’er and Xiaowu also replied without a moment’s hesitation,

“Hey, Xiaoqi! All those things you’ve been jawin’ about like they were just pipe dreams—well damn if they ain’t comin’ true! They’re really happenin’!”

The three brothers were so overjoyed they didn't know whether to dance or stamp their feet—such was the nature of their elation.

When dawn broke, from early morning, the brothers bustled about preparing for their two- or three-day journey. With Wu Xueren leading the way, they set out for Dongxi Village.

The moon still carried the crisp coolness of early May; a fragrant breeze, as untamed as the hearts of youth, buffeted their sleeves.

They entered Dongxi Village on the afternoon of the second day. Thanks no doubt to the Manor’s fine example, the village paths were immaculate beyond comparison to places like Shijie Village—the storehouses and roofs throughout the settlement all exuded an air of quiet composure. There, beyond a single-gated earthen wall in the distance beneath a locust tree’s shade, Chao Gai himself—who had been waiting while muttering, “Will they arrive today too?”—and his retainer Liu Tang, the Red-Haired Devil, were swiftly spotted.

Both groups had already spotted each other from afar, “Hey,” “Hey.”

They approached each other while raising their hands in waves.

Six stars having pledged their oaths at the altar beyond the gate—and now, a seventh star approached.

The details of that night’s banquet would be tedious to recount. Wu Xueren had worked hard to recruit the three brothers yet spoke little of his own contributions, “These are the Ruan brothers whom this humble scholar recommended.” “First, take a look,” he urged. Chao Gai was thoroughly pleased at first glance. Meanwhile, the three brothers observed how within Chao Gai’s dignified yet straightforward character there seemed to lie profound loyalty and righteousness, If this was what associating with such a man entailed then these were precisely the dealings with true men they’d long yearned for. Even if they staked their entire lives on this they’d have no regrets.

They appeared thoroughly taken with him already. Liu Tang—the Red-Haired Devil they called “Red Horse! Red Horse!”—stood undiminished beside Master Wu and Chao Gai; fierce he was, yet free of wickedness. With Short-Lived Second Son Xiaowu, he made a splendid pair. They drank through the night and talked till dawn, snatching but a moment’s sleep before daybreak. The six comrades purified themselves with mouth rinsing and hand washing, then formed ranks before the altar in the Chao family’s inner chamber. Before Taoist deities upon that altar, crimson candles blazed bright while offerings stood arrayed—gold paper coins, colored paper horses, flowers, incense sticks, a whole boiled lamb, and sundry other tributes.

It was the oath ceremony. They took earthenware cups and sipped sacred wine mixed with fresh sheep's blood. Then, after receiving the oath document Wu Xueren had drafted, Chao Gai faced the altar and read it aloud.

――Hearken and know:

Liang Zhongshu, Governor of the Song Dynasty stationed in Beijing, had for many years poisoned the people, wielded authority to govern arbitrarily, and amassed wealth for himself. Moreover, his wife Madame Cai had, year after year, sent Birthday Tributes—gifts of valuables—to her father Minister Cai’s mansion in the capital, their sum truly reaching enormous amounts. Now, having set this year’s July 15th as the birthday date, they again intended to secretly transport 100,000 guan of ill-gotten wealth to the capital Tokyo. How could Heaven and Earth permit such injustice? Therefore, we six would act as Heaven’s agents to deliver divine retribution, thereby striking a gale of bloody wind into the very livers of corrupt officials. If any among us broke this oath and embraced treachery, we swore before Heaven and Earth that they would accept divine retribution without resentment. —Heavenly Deities, we beseeched You to behold this oath.

“...Now, in proper order—” Each burned paper money and worshipped in turn. “There—the oath stands sworn.”

After removing the offerings, the group returned to drinking in the guest hall. Then came clamorous noises from beyond the gate. As Chao Gai cocked his ear, a flustered servant rushed in to report. “Master! Master! “A thousand pardons for disturbing the banquet—but you must come at once!” “Quiet! Back to your post.” “What’s this infernal racket?” “It’s...there’s this impossible mountain hermit—stubborn as ten mules!”

“A mountain hermit, you say?” “Ain’t no good these days—these so-called mountain ascetics. All dolled up in proper-lookin’ robes swaggerin’ about, but don’t know squat ’bout manners or scriptures. Just come waltzin’ into villages now ’n’ then to scrounge meals.” “Shut your trap! Give ’im a peck o’ millet ’n’ chase ’im off!” “But he ain’t payin’ that no mind at all. “Right away!” “Then what’s he pesterin’ us to give ’im?” “He insists on meetin’ you, Master, ’n’ won’t take no for an answer.”

“Quit your nonsense! I ain’t got time to meet every damn beggar who comes knockin’. Worse yet—you brats’ve got a whole crowd gathered here, and you can’t handle one lousy guy? What kinda sorry state is this!” “With all due respect, sir—do come see for yourself! The moment we try layin’ hands on him, he starts spoutin’ off about ‘I am Ichiei Dōjin’ or some such nonsense, then grabs folks like playthings and flings ’em aside one after another!”

“What? Is he putting up a fight?” “He’s just repeating that same line he keeps spouting.” “If you lay hands on him, he won’t show mercy!” “He barks, ‘I won’t budge an inch till I see Chao Gai!’—and even when four or five men rush him together, he tosses them aside like rag dolls!” “Honestly! We’re completely outmatched!” Chao Gai finally pushed himself up from his seat. “Master Strategist, my apologies to our guests—I must excuse myself briefly.”

When he went out to the gate to see, there indeed were many manor hands keeping their distance in a wide circle, trembling in fear. Among them were not a few whose limbs had been injured and who bore expressions of anguish.

“Where is he, that bastard?” “There, under that locust tree over there—sitting all leisurely-like with a smug grin plastered on his face.”

“Ah, that one?”

Chao Gai strode briskly up to him. He too rose to his feet in unison upon seeing Chao Gai. The hermit wore a white robe with short hems favored by mountain ascetics and a grime-stained round-braided sash. He carried no pilgrim’s pack—in its place hung a single sword forged of ancient bronze. The eight-nipple hemp sandals were likewise standard ascetic footwear. As for his age, he likely had not yet reached forty. His millet-hued face bore a goat-like beard that fluttered wildly at the cheeks alone, with a large mouth and brows slightly slanted in an inverted V-shape—features that held a certain charm. Yet his stature stood straight as a solitary pine trunk, made all the more irritating by how he wielded a tortoiseshell-patterned paper fan to waft air into his robe’s breastfold.

“Taoist priest, you’re putting on quite the performance here.” “The one making a fuss isn’t me. These hired men brought this trouble upon themselves through their own actions.” “What alms do you seek?” “Must you repeat yourself? I am no beggar.” “Then why do you refuse to move?” “I seek only to meet your master, Mr. Chao.” “I am that Chao Gai.” “Ah. So it’s you.” “State your business. Quickly.”

“I cannot speak here.” “This concerns weighty affairs.” “Let us converse alone somewhere.” “Then come this way.” “A tree’s shade brings chance meetings—I’ll offer tea.”

With casual ease, he had admitted him within the gates. That said, it was not the inner guest chamber. Of course, it had been a makeshift small room.

When he was shown to a chair and sat down—true to his proper manners—the Taoist priest promptly introduced himself: “I apologize for the disturbance,” he began with practiced humility. “This humble one bears two names—Gongsun Sheng by birthright and Yiqing by Taoist ordination.” “My roots lie in Jizhou province,” he continued smoothly before adopting a self-deprecating tone: “What I say next may invite mirth—yet since youth I’ve pursued martial arts with singular devotion.” His fingers traced patterns on his robe’s hemline like calligraphy strokes made flesh. “Through endless dojo pilgrimages I earned passing renown—enough for men to whisper names like ‘Gongsun Sheng’s Heir’ or ‘Dragon of Soaring Clouds’ when my shadow crossed their thresholds.” The Taoist leaned forward now—his goat-beard quivering with suppressed energy—as he unveiled deeper truths: “Moreover… I hold modest proficiency in certain Taoist arts.” His voice dropped conspiratorially yet carried crystalline clarity: “Summoning storms at whim… vanishing amidst cloudbanks… trifles unworthy of boasting.” A calculated pause preceded his pivot: “Now then—”

With that, Gongsun Sheng Yiqing spoke while repeatedly stroking his goat beard against the grain with his palm. In the slyly grinning gaze that pierced through others, there was indeed the bone-chilling glare befitting a Taoist mystic. “Though I have long heard of your name as village chief, Mr. Chao, this marks our first meeting. As a token of this encounter, this humble one brings what may seem a modest proposal—a venture worth one hundred thousand guan in gold and silver.” “How would you deign to receive it?”

Upon hearing this, Chao Gai burst into laughter. "Why, that'd be the Birthday Tribute heading from the north to the capital, would it not?" "Wh—what?!" Aghast, Taoist Yiqing stared at his face as though trying to bore holes through it. "Strange. How could Master Chao know of something no one should be aware of?" "Ha ha ha! What're you saying? I'm the one who's shocked here!" "How so?" "But I just took a wild guess and spouted nonsense!"

“Nay, that itself is what we call divine inspiration,” declared Gongsun Sheng. “You must accept it. If one does not take what should be taken, then what purpose remains? Moreover, this covertly transported Birthday Tribute is ill-gotten wealth—why should we hesitate to seize it?” Just as Taoist Yiqing marshaled his eloquence to press the argument, a figure suddenly thrust open the door and thundered a shout at his head.

“I’ve heard every word of your brazen conspiracy!” “What?!”

In that instant, Taoist Yiqing leapt away from his chair—but just then, Chao Gai and Scholar Wu Yong, who had entered the room, burst into uproarious laughter in unison. “Now, now, Master Gongsun, do not panic.—Allow me to make introductions.” “This gentleman is—”

Taking over the half-spoken introduction, Wu Yong announced himself as Jialiang the Resourceful Star, and— “To think we’d meet so unexpectedly in a place like this—truly astonishing. Taoist Yiqing—your name has long been known throughout the jianghu.” “Ah! So you are Master Wu the Scholar—Jialiang the Resourceful Star! Well now—the world may seem vast, yet how small it truly is. But truly, the Chao family’s acquaintances are a different breed altogether.”

"In the inner chambers remain several who have today become sworn comrades." "...Master, shall we have Master Gongsun Sheng join their council?" "If the Master wills it." Chao Gai led them to the inner guest chamber, formally adding this new member to mix with the Ruan brothers and retainer Liu Tang—until seven men now gathered as one assembly.

“How strange when you think on it,” Chao Gai said after a moment. “Not long past, I awoke from dreaming the Big Dipper fell upon my roofbeam. Now seven souls gather here by chance—might this be that dream’s portent? An auspicious sign our venture will succeed?” “Indeed,” Scholar Wu nodded.

Scholar Wu nodded. "This must be the reward for the Chao clan's accumulated good deeds." "This bodes exceedingly well from the start." “With all haste, Brother Liu shall infiltrate Beijing Prefecture to covertly investigate which route the Birthday Tribute will take, how large its escort force is, and who commands it—then relay each discovery promptly.” “Now, now, as for that matter—” interjected Gongsun Sheng. “There’s no need to go out of your way to employ inept reconnaissance.” “All those details—this humble priest has already investigated them beforehand.”

“What? You’ve already ascertained this?”

“It seems they’re deliberately avoiding backroads this year and taking Yellow Mud Ridge’s main highway instead.” “If that’s the case, then that too is a stroke of fortune. In the area about one ri east of Yellow Mud Ridge, there’s an acquaintance nicknamed Bai Sheng the Daylight Rat. It makes for an ideal base of operations.”

At this point, Chao Gai’s opinion also emerged. “As for the execution—shall we proceed with force? Or shall we do it smoothly and quietly?” “Improvise as the situation demands—” said Wu Yong. “If they come with brute force, we’ll meet them with force. If they come with stratagems, we’ll counter with stratagems. ...The finer details cannot be settled unless we are on the scene. As for earlier matters—there’s someone. If even our deepest stratagems are outmaneuvered, we’ll be finished.”

“You’re absolutely right,” said both Chao Gai and Gongsun Sheng in unison. “Even a stratagem believed ingenious may become one’s own death ground, depending on the enemy’s adaptability. Let us not overcomplicate our plans and fall into the trap of a strategist drowning in his own schemes. Each must maintain fluidity and move like ghosts—appearing and vanishing at will.” At this point, their plans had nearly been finalized.

They drank and reveled until nightfall, and by the next dawn, the Ruan brothers were already rushing through breakfast to make their light-footed return to Shijie Village. "When the time comes, send word discreetly." "And when it does, don't let yourselves be outwitted." "Set your minds at ease." The three brothers grinned as they fastened their straw sandals. Though Chao Gai offered thirty taels of silver for their journey, they stubbornly refused. Master Wu chuckled at their obstinacy, "Enough of this hollow pride." "Whether you take these few coins or spurn them matters not to the Chao household." "You'd do better to accept and settle your tabs at the tavern—that's the shrewd path, eh?"

And so.

The three brothers parted ways, while Gongsun Sheng and Liu Tang remained at Chao Gai’s estate as retainers.

As for Wu Yong, his residence was conveniently nearby. He returned to his village school and resumed his guise as a teacher for local children. Whenever opportunity arose, he would visit the estate's inner quarters, where during casual tea chats he would conclude secret arrangements unknown to the world, then return to his pupils with an innocent expression.

The disguised merchant convoy of eleven bundles, with the Blue-Faced Beast at its head, would depart from Beijing.

This was the official residence of Liang Zhongshu in Daming Prefecture, Beijing.

In the rear garden, the fragrance of yellow roses hung heavy in the air, while along the veranda railing, a Persian cat lay sprawled on its belly. The cat pretended to sleep, its slitted eyes observing the Central Asian white lapdog as it tormented a captured bee. All these appeared to be the pride of Madame Cai's leisurely collecting hobby—cherished treasures amassed through her connoisseur's zeal. “Oh no, the water's gone again!” “Who’s responsible for this?!” “Even though I’ve been nagging over and over about this, the parrot’s water dish is empty again—isn’t it?!”

Now, Madame Cai stood beneath the parrot's cage, summoning the maidservants of the rear chambers with a voice no less shrill than the parrot's own. "How noisy! Can't you keep it down a bit?" Then, raising the curtain of his study window, her husband Liang's face clicked his tongue. "Oh, there you are. What have you been doing there?" "What do you mean 'what'? I'm looking into something. Just going through some documents."

“If you have a moment, would you be so kind as to come to the couch in this garden corridor?”

“Good grief, my patience wears thin,” said Liang Zhongshu with a click of his tongue. “Shall I have tea brought in?” “Do take your seat there,” Madame Cai replied, gesturing to the veranda couch. “This concerns private matters—I’ve dismissed the maidservants. We’ll take tea afterward.” “What’s this sudden gravity?” he asked, lowering himself onto the rattan seating. “But husband—have you forgotten what day approaches? Look to the sky—those are summer clouds gathering!” “Now that you mention it,” he mused, tilting his head toward the garden’s edge, “I hear the season’s first cicadas.”

“What in heaven’s name are you talking about? The cicadas have been singing for over twenty days now. What exactly do you intend to do about Father’s birthday gifts bound for Tokyo? You’ve done nothing but get them ready for shipment!” “Of course we must make thorough preparations and transport them to arrive by July 15th. But... I’m agonizing over whom to appoint as transport commander. Choosing the right leader has me quite troubled.” “But didn’t you say once before that you had someone in mind? Isn’t that person in your thoughts suitable?”

“Is he unsuitable? Is he the right man? We won’t know until we try him, I suppose.”

“Once you’ve tried someone out, isn’t that something anyone would know? Ridiculous!” “Hey now, don’t dismiss me outright and shout so loudly. Guards are posted outside the middle gate. If they overheard, wouldn’t this Liang Zhongshu be a blushing fool?” “Ah, right! Speaking of soldiers, I’ve just remembered. What about that former soldier Commander—the one they call Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi?” “As for Yang Zhi—his mastery of all eighteen martial arts makes him unmatched among Beijing’s hundred thousand troops. Yet he’s newly arrived here, and above all… the question of his loyalties remains one I cannot fully trust. That is why I’ve been greatly conflicted.”

"If you say such things," Madame Cai retorted sharply through clenched teeth,"there'll be no end to doubting every soul under heaven." "We've not a day left to waste!" Her fan snapped shut like a judge's gavel. "Why not summon Yang Zhi this instant and charge him with duty?" Liang Zhongshu stroked his beard slowly."Yang Zhi would suffice...if my lady consents." His fingers tightened around his jade belt——though he'd pondered till dawn oil burned low,the conclusion remained unaltered. "That Blue-Faced Beast alone bears mettle for this trial."

“Then ring it immediately,” commanded Madame Cai, pointing at the summoning bell hanging in the corridor and addressing her husband.

Liang had risen to prominence through the influence of his wife’s father, Minister Cai; thus, even in ordinary times, he could not hold his head up in front of his wife. Obediently, he stood and rang the summoning bell. Immediately—the guards outside the middle gate appeared and saluted in the courtyard. “Summon Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi at once.” “Yes, sir!”

The guards withdrew. Before long, replacing them, the one who came to kneel before the steps was none other than the Blue-Faced Beast himself—the man who had once made a hundred thousand warriors in Beijing’s grand martial arena widen their eyes in awe.

“Yang Zhi. “Having judged you capable, I now entrust this grave mission—will you stake your life to undertake it?” “I cannot refuse my benefactor’s command. But whether this Yang Zhi is equal to the task—unless I first understand its nature—” “I want you to safeguard the birthday gifts for my wife Madame Cai’s father, Minister Cai, and deliver them intact to Tokyo. Of course, I’ll provide as many troops as you require.”

"When will the departure be?" "Within three days."

“And what of the cargo?” “Ten square cargo bundles. For this, I shall order the Damingfu Office to provide ten Taiping carts. In addition to soldiers, I will have ten strong men selected from the military department—one assigned to each cart... Furthermore, each cart shall bear a yellow flag inscribed with ‘Birthday Tribute for Minister Cai.’ Proceed with majestic dignity to dispel the mountain wilds’ malevolent spirits.” “Though deeply honored by your trust...” “Do you refuse?”

“I humbly beseech Your Excellency to appoint another for this command. For last year’s noble goods worth one hundred thousand guan were all looted by bandits along the way.” “That is precisely why I’ve entrusted you with this command now. And besides...”

At this, Liang grew somewhat agitated, moistening his parched lips as his eyes took on a murky redness, devoting himself wholly to persuasion. "I hold you dear." "That very fondness compels me to secure your advancement." "Do you not comprehend this?" "I am profoundly grateful, yet..." "You boil without bubbling.—Alongside the tribute inventory for Minister Cai, I mean to include my personal letter recommending your path to promotion." "Should you deliver the Birthday Tribute unscathed, would that not itself clear your road to glorious rise?" "What cause remains for wavering?"

“However, along this long route lie notorious bandit nests and perilous areas—Purple Mountain, Twin Dragon Mountain, Peach Blossom Mountain, Canopy Peak, Yellow Mud Ridge, White Sand Cove, Wild Cloud Crossing—all teeming with thieves.” “I have no desire to die a dog’s death either.” “Do you still not comprehend? Take however many soldiers you need!” “No! Even with hundreds of troops—the moment they hear ‘Bandits approach!’—they’ll scatter like autumn leaves before the wind.”

“What nonsense are you spouting? Are you effectively advising me against sending the Birthday Tribute?” “Indeed. In all honesty, I earnestly wish to dissuade Your Excellency from this course. Yet cancellation would now be impossible... Since there remains no alternative—this Yang Zhi shall resign himself to undertake the task.” “Ah! So you’ve steeled yourself to go?” “However, there are conditions—we must abolish all ostentatious official trappings like Taiping carts and banners. The tribute must be repacked into portable travel bags, and every guard’s strongman must be disguised as ordinary porters.”

“Just like a Shandong merchant caravan.” “Exactly. I too shall disguise myself as the leader of a merchant caravan and, avoiding the eyes of bandits as much as possible, intend to deliver them safely to Minister Cai’s very gates in Tokyo—now that I have accepted this charge.”

“I leave it to you.” “Make immediate preparations for departure.”

――Two days of the preparation period had passed.

Then, this time, Yang Zhi himself requested an audience with Governor Liang. And he stated:

“This will not do. “This role is entirely unsuitable for This exiled one. “I must humbly decline the journey to Tokyo.” “Why must you make such a fuss again?” “But it seems our agreement has changed—I have heard through discreet channels that in addition to the planned travel bags, Madame has once again increased various gifts for the female relatives at the minister’s mansion. Consequently, a certain Steward Xie and two or three other retainers have been added to accompany us.”

“Ah, so you’re saying they’re dead weight.” “Moreover, if they are stewards personally appointed by Madame or her retainers, there is grave concern they will refuse to obey this one’s commands during the journey.” “Coupled with bandit ambushes and a thousand li of grueling travel—we must brace for every hardship.” “That much is true.” “Naturally—it will be a trial of suffering.” “To those in the convoy, I must wield the whip to enforce discipline—departing at midnight or cockcrow when needed.” “At times we’ll lie in brushwood and crawl across scorching sands—but without authority to behead the disobedient, I cannot possibly lead this procession.” “Yet when dealing with Madame’s stewards and retainers—”

“No—I shall order those individuals to obey your every command absolutely, like the other porters. If they disobey and resist, you may cut them down. …I shall explain this thoroughly to my wife as well.” “Then I shall depart. I humbly request Your Excellency’s spoken promise be granted as written authorization—a formal pledge for this one to keep.”

“Very well. You shall also prepare and submit to me receipt documentation for the eleven loads of valuables.” “Understood. Given this, as I shall depart from Beijing West Gate at dawn tomorrow… I humbly beg your kind understanding.”

The next morning, the Governor’s Residence bustled from the predawn hours when the sky was still dark.

The military guards disguised as porters were all stalwart warriors. The sight of them each shouldering a single heavy travel pack and standing in formation was both imposing and reassuring. Liang Zhongshu and Madame Cai both stood on the corridor’s railing to see them off. The couple summoned Steward Xie as a precaution and repeatedly instructed him to obey Yang Zhi’s commands, not to pick fights, and not to fall ill during the journey, among other things.

“Please do not concern yourselves,” Steward Xie bowed to Governor Liang and Madame Cai. “This steward is the eldest in our party. I shall skillfully mediate relations as we travel.” Turning to Yang Zhi, he clasped his hands: “Commander Yang. I place myself under your command.” At the foot of the mansion stairs, the two men shook hands and commenced their journey. Their company numbered seventeen souls. Most wore the plain garb of porters, but Yang Zhi and Xie stood apart as merchant caravan leaders. Shandong sedge hats shaded their faces above sleeveless indigo tunics and hemp robes, gaiters binding their legs above hemp sandals. Only the masterwork blades at their waists—whose very steel seemed to whisper of lethal artistry—betrayed their true nature.

They had already emerged into the Morning Mist streets and approached the exit of the West Gate district. Yang Zhi alone carried a rattan whip in his hand. Tucking it under his arm, he rested his hand on the brim of his Shandong sedge hat and gazed up at the gate’s drum tower. “We, envoys of Governor Liang bound for the capital, now pass through this gate!”

When he shouted, a response of “Aye!” echoed from the drum tower above. At the same time, due to the unexpected gate opening, the gate-side guard unit appeared there in full force, “Let them pass!”

With a creak, they pushed open the huge iron gates to both sides.

The time had already passed May, and the continent's sand was scorching. Summer clouds blazed dazzlingly, their glare piercing eyes as they towered over the horizon; ground heat seeped through shoe soles, scorching the soles of their feet.

The ant-like procession bearing travel packs trudged onward, panting, sweat droplets already plopping to the ground. In daily life, they had grown accustomed to casually referring to Kaifeng, the Eastern Capital, with such gentle ease—but now that they were actually trudging step by step along this thousand-mile transport route, it proved no simple matter. Ah, but could they truly overcome such torments—the blazing sun, the scorched earth, this bitter heat? Beyond the towering cloud peaks that loomed ahead on their path—where the glimmer of an unprecedented Big Dipper lay in wait—neither the Blue-Faced Beast nor his panting porters could have dreamed of such a thing.

Seven jujube merchants were laughing and chattering in a grove at Yellow Mud Ridge.

Fifteen or sixteen soldiers in porter attire. The shadow of their daily trudging across the continent's scorching sands resembled worker ants winding along under the blazing sun as they carried their burdens—a pitiful sight, slow and laborious. Each of the eleven travel packs borne by every porter showed no sign of being light. —Each and every one of those travel packs was filled with precious metals and jewels worth 100,000 guan, all destined as birthday tribute for Minister Cai. —The sweat they shed each day was not even worth a single pearl within them.

“What’s this? Gutless wretches.” “The road ahead still stretches a thousand miles.” “What good is flagging already?” “Move! Move!” “Drag your feet and I’ll welt your backsides!” In Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi’s hand was clutched a rattan whip. The masterwork blade at his waist served no idle purpose—Governor Liang Zhongshu had vested him with absolute authority, decreeing any who disobeyed during their journey were to be cut down without mercy. Even their other companion, Steward Xie, could voice neither complaint nor grievance to Yang Zhi throughout this expedition.

However, already over ten days had passed since departing Beijing’s city gate. In all that time, they had seen rain only twice—and even those were nothing more than momentary cloudbursts accompanied by terrifying thunderstorms. After that, day after day was a journey under blazing skies. That evening, upon arriving at the inn, Yang Zhi issued a declaration to the sixteen men: the soldiers acting as porters and Steward Xie. “Now, the real journey begins from here.” “—Beijing now lies far behind us, while the capital ahead remains distant. Poetically speaking, it’s a thousand mountains and ten thousand rivers—but ahead truly loom Erlong Mountain, Taohua Mountain, Sangai Mountain, Yellow Mud Ridge, Baisha Dock, Yeyun Crossing—all treacherous passes and bandit havens awaiting us at every turn.” “...Therefore, we too must steel our resolve.” “This isn’t just about hauling cargo!”

He hurled this eerie warning at them, “Therefore starting tomorrow, you are permitted to sleep late. In the morning, take your rest and depart at leisure. Rest with that understanding.” he added.

However, the soldiers did not look happy either. That day, when they laid their heads on pillows in the travel hut, they began to stir with hushed voices.

“Hey, watch out.” “Blue-Scar’s spoutin’ weird shit again.” “Bastard won’t even let us piss in peace—just keeps barkin’ ‘Move! Move!’ like he’s crackin’ a whip.” “Somethin’s off. One minute he’s chantin’ ‘July fifteenth, July fifteenth’ like some capital-bound mantra, next he’s all ‘sleep late, depart slow’?” “Whatever.” “Only paradise we get’s when we’re asleep.” “Just gotta stay alive till we hit Kaifeng—Eastern Capital. No way they’d pull this shit on the return trip.” “Ugh! Next life? We ain’t ever becomin’ soldiers again!”

From the next day onward, they started late in the mornings and arrived early in the evenings. Only journeys under the midday sun continued for over ten days thereafter. Had this been all, their complaints might have lessened—but Yang Zhi's calculations lay in avoiding bandits and mountain brigands, and with no margin left in the July 15th deadline, he wielded his whip even more mercilessly than before during daylight hours to extract every possible stride from them. This went without saying.

“What? Want water? “Endure! Endure! “Water’ll just make you sweat more. “Imagine you’re chewing a plum pit!” “That don’t work! “No spit comes no matter how much we imagine pits!” “Won’t this make it come out?” Yang Zhi made his rattan whip whistle through the air. “Haven’t I let you lot sleep till you’re sick of it every night? “No more whining!” “But without breaks...we can’t...breathe...” “Let us...catch breath...in shade...” “We’ll roast alive...”

“Shut up! No summer journey ever turned men into dried provisions!” “Ugh! My head’s spinning... Commander Yang...” “What?” “Please—at least let us unpack our lunch.” “Our legs won’t move forward anymore.” “We’re staggering.”

“Tch.” “You lot—every time you spot shade, you start whining some damn complaint.” “Do you even know what day it is by now?” “Look, he’s starting up again.” “We know.” “If you understood, then eat while you walk! Even a single day’s delay past July 15th, and we’ll miss Minister Cai’s birthday celebration.” “Even a thousand days’ worth of thatch can burn in one day—that’s how it goes!” “We’ve lost all desire and gain.” “Then, do you want to die?”

“How pitiful! It’s precisely because we have wives and children that we’re out here dripping saltless sweat like this!” “Then quit your bickering and keep moving! Once we reach the capital, eat and drink your fill—do handstands or whatever you like for all I care!” “...Ah, if only it would rain!”

However, the ill-timed drought persisted. The midsummer sun made even the notion of calling it a fire dragon seem laughable. The entire sky was like heated glass; not a single cloud could be seen that day either. Finally, that afternoon, the path turned into a mountain trail; the trees' leaves hung withered, the wind lay dead, valleys stood parched without water, rocks split from drought—not a single drop of fresh water trickled anywhere.

“Ah! We’ve reached one of the Taihang Mountains’ peaks here.” Even Yang Zhi—carrying no load—found himself breathless.

The craggy mountain features grew steeper with each ascent, and the path—washed by days of rain—now formed a riverbed. The myriad trees stood like planted swords and spears; their rustling evoked the roars of tigers and leopards.

Yang Zhi, who had absently stopped his steps while pondering their journey thus far and the road ahead, suddenly noticed that Steward Xie and the rest—the eleven porters carrying bundles and remaining soldiers—had all clambered onto a peak's ridge when—

“We can’t go on anymore. Do as you like!” “Even if you tear us to shreds, we won’t budge!” “Come on, do your worst!” With that, they each dropped their bundles from their backs—some sprawling out, others flopping onto their backs—and by now had resolved on reckless defiance, assuming a posture that not even a lever could move them. “Ah! You pack of rebels!” Yang Zhi turned around, and the moment he noticed their reckless defiance, he rushed over and cracked his whip as usual.

“Who gave you permission to rest? I can’t take my eyes off these brutes for even an instant!”

“Now, now,” interjected Steward Xie of the Liang household, assuming the role of peacemaker. “However much you push them, denying even a midday rest in this oppressive heat is too cruel. Commander Yang. Don’t seethe with rage like that.”

“Steward. Did you permit them to rest?” “There’s no permitting or forbidding—the moment we began climbing here, they collapsed on their own. Even for me, enduring further would be as agonizing as vomiting my own entrails through my mouth. Now, even if we rest here half an hour, we surely won’t miss the birthday deadline.” “If even you—a man of sense—insist on this, why would Yang Zhi alone prefer to force this grueling march while incurring everyone’s resentment?... That said—do you know where this place is?”

“Then we’ve already reached one of the Taihang Mountain’s ridges.” “Once we cross this ridge…” “What’s this carefree nonsense?” “Is that not the case?” “No, precisely because you’re right—that’s what makes this absurd. “From what I’ve observed of the terrain around us, this is none other than Yellow Mud Ridge—a place notorious for bandit activity that unsettles even the bravest souls. If we let our guard down here, we might well find ourselves struck by a single demonic gust of sand!” Then, having already mustered their courage and grown brazen, the porters and soldiers—

“Bahahaha! There goes Commander Yang with his usual act again!” “We’ve been scared stiff by your threats day after day!” “If ghosts show up in broad daylight like this, that’d be a riot.” “Experience? Let’s meet these specters then, why don’t we!” “You damn fools!” Yang Zhi took a rage-fueled step toward them and roared. “You lot—even through your whines, you keep claiming this drudgery’s for your wives and brats!” “What’ll you do when disaster strikes?” “You’ll lose not just rewards—your very necks’ll be on the line!” “As your leader, I’ve hardened my heart to stop any blunder before it happens.” “Don’t you get it?” “This is the merciful whip!”

“Heh… We don’t get fancy phrases like ‘merciful whip.’” “You brat!” As Yang Zhi revealed his true ferocity and started to draw the mountain cleaver at his waist, Steward Xie, aghast, hurriedly blocked his path. “Hold! Young Master Yang is all well and good, but you’re still quite young. That short temper of yours will be your own undoing.” “No, let go of me! These brats have no idea what’ll happen if I truly lose my temper! To make an example, I’ll chop off one of these brats’ heads right here!”

“If you do that, then who on earth will carry that person’s baggage from here on out? I want no part of this!” “One load’s easy enough to handle. What’s crucial is maintaining strict discipline across the entire group. Old man, shut up!”

“No—I can’t stand by and watch. With such reckless fervor, how could you possibly unite the hearts of fifteen men? Harmony is essential. The problem is, Master Yang here is unacquainted with hardship.” “Don’t talk nonsense! This humble one has some experience in wandering. I’ve traveled through Sichuan, Guangxi, and Guangdong as well.” “If it’s just an ordinary journey, anyone can make one.” “Nonsense! The world today is a decadent age no different from utter darkness everywhere you look. In this turbulent, tangled world, I believe I’ve tasted the hardships of wandering.”

“Commander Yang.” “What is it?”

“You may speak freely here in these deserted mountains, but you’d do well to curb such reckless remarks. While enjoying Governor Liang Zhongshu’s favor and partaking of Beijing Prefecture’s stipend, how dare you call this a decadent age? To claim this isn’t an era of peace—what manner of talk is that? You’ll have that tongue ripped out for such words!”

At this, Yang Zhi was struck dumb. What lies dormant in the heart will slip from the tongue when stirred by chance. He regretted it—but the words had already flown beyond recall. Even were he to successfully transport Minister Cai’s birthday tribute, should Steward Xie later pour such slander into the governor’s ear, all would dissolve like foam on water.—Too late! The realization came swift as a falcon’s strike—Yang Zhi’s face weakened imperceptibly as he bit his navel in bitter regret.

And then—

Amidst his blurred eyesight, something like a bird's shadow suddenly passed in the distance—immediately ahead, in the shade of the pine grove. "Huh?! A suspicious man!" Yang Zhi suddenly shouted toward that spot. The bitter aftertaste of being cornered in his exchange with Xie, along with all the turbulent emotions of that moment, were swept away by this single shout. For Yang Zhi, this might have been a fortunate diversion. What he had seen—in that instant, he burst into a sprint, chasing the shadow of a man who had hidden himself within the distant pine grove.

Yang Zhi had lost sight of the shadowy figure that had fled like a wild hare through the pines, but instead came upon an unexpected cluster of traveling merchants.

They had positioned themselves in a cool, flat area of the pine grove, parking seven Jiangzhou carts—handcarts loaded with barrels—here and there. The group of seven, young and old alike, sat cross-legged, lay sprawled out, or perched on tree roots and cart shafts, each assuming casual postures. They seemed to be bantering playfully as they wiped each other’s sweat under the blazing sun. “Huh?!” They all sprang to their feet at once, appearing startled by Yang Zhi’s sudden presence.

“Who are you, you lot?”

As he rushed up, Yang Zhi demanded, “Who’re you?” “You’re the one we should be asking!”

They parroted back once more. “No—I’m asking who you are and where you’re from!” “Hmph. We’re asking what kind of stray cur you are and where you’re from! Hah!... So you’re the villain we’ve heard often haunts Yellow Mud Ridge?” “Don’t screw with me! You lot are the real ones here!” “My, we’ve been overestimated by someone formidable. Unfortunately, we’re just small-time merchants—a mix of youngsters and old-timers. Now, as for you...?”

“I’m actually a merchant from Kaifeng. I had porters carry goods like furs I procured in Hubei and am on my way to the capital. Hearing this area was dangerous, I came prepared—and just now, a suspicious man was peering at us from the pine grove with shifty eyes. Thinking he must be up to no good, I gave chase.” “Ha ha ha ha!” “Ha ha ha ha!” The seven roared with laughter, “That’s one hell of a wild goose chase! We were just cooling off here when, lo and behold, a bunch of rough-looking men—sixteen or seventeen of ’em—came hauling something up from the northern foothills. ‘Oh no! The famous bandits of Yellow Mud Ridge are here!’ one of our comrades panicked and went to check things out.… But when it turned out they didn’t seem like villains after all, we just went back to cooling off, y’see?’”

“Hmm,” Yang Zhi found himself drawn in and smirked as he— “So we’re both merchants then.” “Well now, that’s a stroke of luck.” “And what’s your trade?” “Have a look at this barrel.” “Ah. Preserved jujubes.” “So you’re jujube peddlers?” “Backwater fare, nothin’ special,” one merchant drawled, wiping his sweaty neck. “But capital drunkards swear there’s no better wine snack. Seven of us hauled this load from Haozhou—damned if the heat ain’t stewing these berries in their barrels!” “Money’s hard won for our kind, eh?”

“You said it. Money’s the sworn foe here, or some such.” “How’s about it, sir? Care for a few jujubes on the house?” “Nah. Appreciate it,” Yang Zhi forced a bitter smile as he turned back toward his companions’ makeshift camp.

Steward Xie sneered immediately upon seeing him.

“Commander Yang—how fares the edge of that sword you’re so proud of?” “No bandits—just a pack of worthless peddlers after all.”

“Hee. If I go by your favorite saying, no decent folk should show up round these parts.” “Enough with your needling. You’re tenacious as an old badger.” “Now, now. This calls for celebration.” “There.” “I’ve gone and opened the leftover lunch.” “Why not cool yourself awhile?” "Oh well—might as well call this day ruined."

“Alright everyone! Take your rest—you may rest now.”

This was a slight misstep for Yang Zhi. There was a hint he was trying to hide his embarrassment. Since the soldiers had already settled into taking unauthorized breaks through their overly familiar rapport with Steward Xie, Yang Zhi’s authority with the whip could only appear defeated in the face of their united insubordination.

To make matters worse, the timing couldn’t have been more opportune. From somewhere, a rustic ballad could be heard. It was a man's voice. As the ballad continued, his burdened footsteps fell perfectly in time with the song's rhythm. All the soldiers turned to look back at the slope behind them. A man could be seen approaching, carrying a barrel on his shoulder.... Pungent—the sharp scent of distilled liquor struck their nostrils. “Hey, wait a minute!” The words slipped out unbidden. The man set down his load.

“Yes? What can I do for you?” “That looks like distilled liquor.” “Just as you guessed.” “Where are you taking that?” “To the village over the mountain. They’ve got a summer festival coming the day after tomorrow.” “Not for sale?” “It’s precisely because they’re for sale that I’m hauling them there. Right here—depending on the price, I might even part with a barrel for free!” “How much for one?”

“I’ll lower it to five guan.” “Since we’re still halfway there, I’ll waive the delivery fee.” The soldiers furtively huddled together. They looked like starving demons with bait dangled before their noses. Their throats growled. Their noses twitched. Finally, they began jingling coins. They seemed to have pooled their money and begun discussing a purchase. Yang Zhi, who had been glaring intently all this while, suddenly drew his still-sheathed mountain sword from his waist, strode forward, and struck the barrel with his sword’s pommel.

“Hey, you lot! Are you planning to buy this? —To buy and drink it?”

“The money’s ours!” “The money aside—whose permission did you get? Don’t go racking up debts, you lot!” “It’s not about debts! If you’re human too, master, you ought to understand! We’ve hit our limit with pride and patience... If we see this booze and don’t drink it, these cravings’ll haunt us—we won’t budge an inch!” “Quit whining like starved ghouls! Pick the wax from your ears and listen! Even ordinary travelers don’t slobber over roadside swill like greedy hounds! How many fools get robbed blind by paralysis drugs because of this pathetic greed—you ignorant? You witless maggots!”

Then, more than the scolded soldiers, it was the liquor seller who appeared to glare sharply. Hmph... No sooner had he sneered through his nostrils than he immediately began shouldering the carrying pole of his load. “Hey, you’re in the way—don’t stand around by the barrels. This ain’t fucking funny! In this scorching heat, where do you think you’d find some lunatic peddling paralysis drugs? Ridiculous!”

“The Stratagem Execution of the Birthday Tribute.”

And Yang Zhi peered into death's abyss. Though Bai Sheng's barbed retort had been meant for Yang Zhi, it only stoked the soldiers' greedy cravings further. "Wait now." "Hey!" "We even pooled our coins..." "Nuh-uh! No way!" "I ain't sellin' another drop!" "Get lost!" "Aw, don't gotta blow your top." "Even if he talks tough, our boss understands reason—got a soft heart too." "Suit yerselves then!" "You trash my goods then play reasonable?" "If this were town streets, you wouldn't walk away unscathed!"

He seemed absolutely furious. His ferocity grew more intense. Just then—from the shade of the distant pine grove, the same jujube merchants came clattering over. And all at once,

“What’s this? What’s going on?” came the boisterous chorus in unison. Despite the situation, every eye shone with something like curiosity. “Whoa, that was close! What’s got you so riled up, liquor seller? Well? You still haven’t set those barrels down, huh?”

“Oh! You’re them merchants what lodged at the mountain’s foot last night,” “Now listen here.” “This’d make a saint’s spleen curdle, I swear!” “Hoh!” “So you was squabblin’ with this lot? We heard the ruckus yonder and thought, ‘At last—proper bandits’ve shown their faces!’ Came runnin’ all startled-like.” “...But if ’tis just jawin’, thank mercy.” “No good, no good—brawlin’ ain’t worth spit.”

“There’s no need for you to say such things,” Bai Sheng replied. “No quarrel was started here, but when they spit such insulting nonsense—well, my spleen boiled over! …Accusing me of lacing my wares with paralysis drugs!” “Who?” pressed the merchants. “Who’s making these absurd claims?”

“It’s that master over there with a face like a green chili pepper, standing all puffed up,” “I come from a liquor shop that’s been honest for generations, but never have I had a day as foul as this.” “Come now, let it drop already.” “No need to get so worked up—since they’ve gone quiet, they’re likely stewing in regret over their loose tongues anyway. …More importantly, we’re parched as hell ourselves—let the lot of us have a cup each.”

“I refuse! Absolutely not!” “Why’s that? You’re bein’ just as harsh. “We ain’t sayin’ you should let us drink for free!” “I know that already! “But originally, even if I don’t do business in a place like this, I’m a liquor seller who’s never short of regulars passed down from my parents.” “You’re mockin’ me!” “Don’t go jokin’ around. “It ain’t like we’re the ones nitpickin’ here.” “You’re one hell of a strange man.” “Come on, sell us some to smooth things over.” “The liquor trade’s all about grit, ain’t it?”

“When you folks tell me to cheer up like that—well, I’m just a fool—so I start feelin’ like handin’ it over for free. But as luck’d have it, I ain’t got no cups.” “Alright then! If it’s cups you need, they’re over there.” Two of the jujube merchants’ companions ran off toward the cart. What they brought were two coconut shell bowls. One of them came back with both palms heaped high with their signature jujube preserves.

They opened it onto the barrel lid, “Here’s the food to go with it!”

The seven men surrounded the liquor barrel. Taking turns, they drew the liquor into coconut shell bowls and began drinking with evident relish. And they began crunching on the jujubes. In an instant, one barrel of distilled liquor was drained to the dregs.

“Ah, this is unbearable! “Maybe ’cause we stumbled on this stuff unexpected-like up a mountain path—can’t rightly call it nectar or nothin’ else.” “We’ve completely forgotten about the heat!” “Hey! “You’re all busy having a grand time here—but you haven’t even asked about the price of this distilled liquor yet!” “Liquor seller, we’ve drained one barrel—how much is it?” “One barrel’s ten guan.” “Since it’s half a barrel, five guan.” “Alright then!” “Here’s five guan!” As one man was handing over the coins, another man—

“C'mon, throw in another bowl on the house!”

With that, he took the lid off the half-empty barrel, thrust a bowl inside with practiced speed, and began gulping down a mouthful. The liquor seller spun around lightly— “Oh no you don’t!” He abruptly tried to swipe the bowl still half-full of liquor. But the small merchant holding the vessel twisted away deftly and bolted straight into the pine forest. Undeterred, the liquor seller pressed on stubbornly— “You bastards!”

With that, he gave chase. Then those who had stayed behind seized this fresh opportunity, swarming around the half-drained barrel with another coconut bowl. When the liquor seller suddenly glanced back, his astonishment grew tenfold at seeing—

“Thieves!” No sooner had he rushed back than he desperately snatched the bowl away. And then, toward the backs of those fleeing, “You fool. You false-hearted, fart-belching swindlers! Go rot in some godforsaken ditch!” he spat venomously.

The soldiers who had been watching since earlier couldn't even laugh; they were just swallowing dry saliva.

Resentment over provisions was inherently a grave matter. Not to mention—to have others smacking their lips right before their noses, parched as they were by scorching heat—this was beyond endurance. Sullenly silent and sunk into gloomy stillness, they glared with bitter resentment at Yang Zhi’s back where he sat apart—until finally, unable to endure any longer, they raised their voices in unison to plead with Steward Xie. “Steward...” “We’ll be in your debt.” “Please, just this once, plead with Commander Yang for us.—There are still mountain paths ahead, and even if we reach the pass, there’ll be no drinking water there.” “Please, could you tell him to allow us to purchase and drink that remaining half barrel?” “Our stomachs are growling so fiercely we can’t bear it any longer!”

Steward Xie, too, inwardly shared the same desire. However, unable to readily show agreement, he moved before Yang Zhi as though completely overwhelmed by their pleas. And he endeavored to speak on their behalf. His tone all but said, “If it displeases you, simply turn a blind eye.” “Tch. What a base disposition.” Yang Zhi was bitterly resigned, but if this old steward or the soldiers were to embellish his earlier slip of the tongue with added flourishes and spread rumors about it after reaching the capital city ahead, it would prove troublesome. He considered that allowing them to harbor further resentment would not be a sound strategy for the remainder of their journey.

That was also a factor, and from what he had observed earlier, there had been nothing suspicious about the two liquor barrels either. Wearing a reluctant expression, "There's no helping it." "If even you insist, I'll turn a blind eye—just for today." "But once they've quenched their thirst, they must depart this place with vigor." "Ah!" "You've granted consent?" "The men must be leaping like sparrows!" "Everyone—rejoice!" "Permission's been granted! Permission!"

It was none other than old Steward Xie himself who was practically leaping for joy. No sooner had he returned to where the soldiers and liquor barrels were than he let out a cheer. “No! No! I ain’t sellin’ to you lot!”

The soldiers raised a cheer, but the liquor seller started to argue again.

“Instead o’ wastin’ time on this lousy detour, I’d be better off headin’ to the village an’ lettin’ the festival crowd enjoy it. Come on, back off! Back off! Today’s not lookin’ to be any good.” “Still angry, are you? Just give us a break already! We’ll apologize, okay?” “Shut up. There ain’t no reason for you lot to be apologizin’.” “You’re bein’ so damn stubborn!” “Ah, I’m bein’ stubborn. My bad.”

“Look… We’ve scraped up coins and begged like we’re prayin’—it’d be a crime to leave us hangin’ like this.” “You ain’t lettin’ go?” “Troublesome.” “Enough! If y’all wanna drink so bad, just take the damn thing!” “That ain’t happenin’. Five strings o’ coins—we’re puttin’ ’em right here.” “It’s not five strings.”

“Huh? Raising the price?” “Don’t take me for a fool. Since those jujube merchants earlier helped themselves to several bowls from the remaining barrel, I’ve got no choice but to lower the price by however much they drank. Makes sense, don’t it?” “Four strings’ll do.” “Just take back one string o’ coins.” “Well now, you’re quite the honest sort.” “Ain’t you honorable?”

Picking up the coconut shell bowls that had been lying nearby, the soldiers gathered around the barrel with solemn expressions, urging each other to form a line. —Tongues smacked. Throats clenched. Praise, gasps, drool of shared craving. It was truly a scene of starved wraiths encircling celestial ambrosia. “Hey! You up front—enough already! Who’d dare leave Master Steward waiting at the rear?” “Quit hogging it!” “You think we’d slight our Master Steward?” “Here now, this one’s... Well then, Master Steward—have a cup too!”

“My word, this is fine distilled liquor.” “Mmm, delicious.” “Let us offer a bowl to Commander Yang as well.”

However, Yang Zhi made no move to drink. He had never been much of a drinker to begin with. Yet even his throat burned with thirst. When at last the barrel stood nearly empty, "One sip?" he wondered.

And so, he drank only about half a bowl. “Thank you… Thanks to you all, today I make my grand return to the foothills.” “Ha ha ha ha!” “Well then, everyone—fare thee well!” The liquor vendor bid his farewells, hoisted the empty barrel onto his shoulder, and marched briskly down the slope from whence he’d come.

At this moment, at one end of a slightly distant pine grove, the faces of the seven jujube merchants from earlier—truly like seven stone statues without so much as a blink—were staring fixedly in this direction.

—And from far down the slope, the now-vanished liquor seller's rustic song could be heard. That must have been the signal. Suddenly, the seven burst into uproarious laughter and clapped their hands in unison.

“How’s that for a result! What a flawless success!” “Truly, Master Wu Yong, the Resourceful Star—today’s Kongming! Everything unfolded exactly as you scripted it.” “Serves you right, you lackeys of the corrupt officials!” “Drop dead! Drop dead! Don’t hold back!” “Alright! Let’s get to loading up right away!” In an instant, the seven figures emerged from beneath the pine grove’s shade—each pushing one of seven Jiangzhou carts—and swarmed without hesitation toward where Yang Zhi, the steward, and their seventeen men lay incapacitated.

And swiftly, they dumped all the jujube pickles from the carts into the valley bottom. And in their place, they loaded two or three of the eleven bundles—which the soldiers had earlier set down and arranged on the ground—onto each cart, and no sooner had they done so than they threw cloth covers over them completely. “Alright, it’s done. Let the rest go to the wild!” “The rest is an offering for crows and wild beasts.” “Farewell, farewell!” It was as if they were singing a triumphant hymn. Of course—the gold, silver, and jewels that should have been presented from Governor Liang Zhongshu and his wife to Minister Cai had now had their path diverted here. Even so, beneath the cloth covers of seven Jiangzhou carts, where could the treasure worth 100,000 guan possibly be taken away to?

“Huh? ...Ah... Aah...” Yang Zhi helplessly witnessed it all with his own eyes. And yet, there was nothing he could do. With a dull thud, his head rang hollow. Even though his eyes perceived it, the visual signals failed to reach his brain. His fingers gripped the grass roots, but all that dripped onto the back of his hand was thick drool. His waist felt heavy as lead; only chills raced through his entire body. His mouth twisted; his voice emerged as mere sound, forming no coherent words.

"The steward?" "The soldiers?" Faint thought bubbles stirred in his head.

Once, he raised his prostrated forehead and looked around with bleary eyes.

All of them resembled dead fish thrashing on a tidal flat. Not one remained in proper form. At intervals, strangled cries like those of mutes and bizarre bodily contortions filled the surroundings—nothing more. "Unngh... ngh..." Yang Zhi clawed at empty air and managed to stand—only to collapse back with a heavy thud. He sank into darkness, bereft of any shred of consciousness.—When he finally regained awareness a quarter-hour later, the July 2nd moon hung over a corner of the Taihang Mountains, honing its edge like a demon's fang.

Who exactly were those seven jujube merchants—what incarnations had they been? There is surely no need to explain it here, but to state it once: they were none other than... —Chao Gai of Dongxi Village; Liu Tang the Red-Haired Devil, their resident ally; Master Wu Yong of the same village; the river fishermen of Shijie Village—the three Ruan brothers—whom said Master Wu had recruited into their band; and Gongsun Sheng the Pure: these were none other than the seven individuals in total.

No—there was one more, an unofficial member who had joined. This one was quite the performer. Namely, he was the man who had disguised himself as a liquor seller and put on an excellent performance—a loafer named Bai Sheng the Daylight Rat, who lived in a village near Yellow Mud Ridge. Due to having long been favored by Chao Gai, Bai Sheng the Daylight Rat's house was chosen as the gang’s hideout, and he himself had stepped up to take on a role—such was the reasoning. Now came next—the procedure by which the Paralysis Drug had been administered. This too followed an exceedingly elaborate scheme.

At the outset of the operation, first, the seven men emptied one barrel. And then, they paid the coins. During that commotion, it was Liu Tang the Red-Haired Devil who opened the lid of another barrel and, without permission, drank half a bowlful.

Liu Tang fled; Bai Sheng, playing the liquor seller's role, gave chase. In their absence, The remaining group again began scrambling without permission to drink from the remaining barrel. Some would pretend to drink. The liquor seller Bai Sheng—no sooner had he returned in astonishment than he pretended it was a chaotic scuffle—slipped through the fray as Master Strategist Wu Yong swiftly put paralysis drug into a bowl, attempting with that same hand to scoop wine from the barrel. In this instant—as if by magic—the poison had already been mixed throughout all the wine in the barrel.

With that, the whole group fled in a flurry. The liquor seller hurled the seized bowls and scattered abuse. With this, the scheme's execution had concluded—a dramatic episode later generations came to call "The Stratagem Execution of the Birthday Tribute."

×　　　　　　　　　× “Huh?... I?”

Suddenly regaining consciousness, Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi surveyed his own figure and gazed up at the crescent moon’s shadow in the dreadful sky, "That’s right. I was tricked. I kept thinking 'I won't be tricked, I won't be tricked,' yet in the end even I fell into their cunning trap." As if unable to bear the shame, both hands gripped the roots of his hair. Tears of bitter regret streamed silently down his cheeks.

"How could I return alive to Beijing?" Even were I to bid farewell, this self remained unwelcome in the capital—yes, to hurl this body from the cliff into the valley, become Yellow Mud Ridge's demon, and let generations of travelers recount the tale of such a fool—that would at least bring closure to this existence. "That was the only path left to take."

Staggering, he began to walk, dragging a ghostly shadow. The other sixteen figures lay silent, still prostrate on the ground. The reason he alone had regained his senses so quickly was likely because he had drunk only about half a bowl of that poisoned wine. But for one who now stood upon death’s rocky precipice, even that could hardly be considered any stroke of fortune.

“Having been born… over thirty years. Is this how I die? What purpose did I come into this world for?”

In the instant Yang Zhi looked down into the Valley of Death, a scroll of his past thirty years unfurled in his mind like lightning. The visage of his parents appeared before him. His younger siblings' voices echoed in his ears. His martial arts master, his academic mentor, all beings between heaven and earth that had nurtured this body, every life that had ever sustained him—they clutched at his sleeves in unison, demanding: "Why die?" "Death comes easy, but life never returns," he felt them restraining him. "Ah, how terrifying. Is a meaningless death truly this fearsome? I don't want to die after all. Should I seek meaning—in death's purpose? Or the meaning of life?"

He suddenly jumped back from the rocky precipice. As if escaping death's jaws, when he returned to where he had been earlier, there lay sixteen grotesque figures still rolling their eyes wildly and frothing at the corners of their mouths. “Ba... you fools!”

The voice of his entire body burst forth unbidden. Then suddenly，his mind went hollow， "Alright... This Blue-Faced Beast won't die. How could this one possibly die alongside these wretches? This life was never meant to be so cheaply discarded. In days to come，capturing today's bandits will be one mission—how to spend what remains of this life is a matter for after survival. That too will be a battle fought once this one survives." When he suddenly noticed，his 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 he saw a flock of night birds descending diagonally. Taking the direction as an omen showing heaven's intent，Yang Zhi—not knowing what land the path would lead to—soon staggered his way down toward the foothills.

That night as well, when it had grown quite late,

At one edge of Yellow Mud Ridge, finally revived by the chill of night dew, the steward and his burly soldiers began scrambling to their feet. "What should we do?" Thus they belatedly grumbled about their blunder.

“Yang’s run away.” Steward Xie shelved his own mismanagement and cursed that very thing above all else. “Now that I think about it, that bastard might’ve suspected the poisoned wine! “No matter—we’ll pin everything here and now on this version of events. “Mark my words!” “This can’t be our failing, can it?” “If this gets out, we’ll all lose our heads. “So we’ll strike first—come dawn, we’ll file charges with the local magistrates. “Clear?”

“Right, how exactly?” “We’ll pin everything on Yang Zhi’s schemes—declare that bastard colluded with the Yellow Mud Ridge bandits! He sweet-talked us into drinking poisoned wine, then made off with every last treasure from the birthday tribute and vanished.” “Understood?” “No matter where they interrogate you—keep your stories aligned and stick to them!”

“We understand.” “That bastard—our bone-deep grudge—we’ll make sure everything goes exactly that way.” “You lot are living witnesses—depending on how things unfold, you might be kept at the local magistrate’s office." “However, I’ll return to Beijing Prefecture without rest day or night and report all this to His Excellency Liang Zhongshu.” “Naturally, His Excellency’s fury will blaze like wildfire—that goes without saying." “Immediately, couriers will race from His Excellency to Minister Cai in the capital, and strict orders for the bandits’ arrest will undoubtedly reach the Jizhou Magistrate’s Office too.”

Now then—what of Yang Zhi on the other hand? He had not the slightest inkling that such underhanded scheming had taken place after his departure.

Still half-dazed—where and how he had walked that night, he could not say. But when dawn broke, he found himself having descended south from Yellow Mud Ridge, now wandering aimlessly further south along the road.

"Ah... Damn it!" Because he had once been resolved to die, he had abandoned the entire bundle containing his official travel funds, pass documents, and dispatch letters, leaving him without a single coin on his person.

“To think staying alive means getting hungry—only realizing this now… How absurd.” “Well… I’ll manage somehow.” “Won’t come to begging.” He reached a village. His stomach wailed like a wronged spirit. Blindly moving, “My apologies.”

With that thought, he ended up entering. It was a common rural tavern. A woman with a friendly face came out and asked for his order. He had meat stir-fried and ordered rice. Having entered the small tavern—perhaps thinking it would be rude not to drink—in the meantime, “And a bit of wine…” he said with a face that suggested he could drink. The woman had the air of a diligent housewife, but her manner of pouring drinks was practiced. Being unaccustomed to drink, the Blue-Faced Beast began to flush like a flame-faced beast. He ate the meat, stuffed down the rice, adjusted his grip on his field sword, and rose to his feet. Somewhat recovering from his nighttime bewilderment, in his gait and gaze, he was finally returning to his true self.

“Oh, sir. If you forget to pay, that would be troublesome.” “What? What now?” “Please settle your account.”

“I see. That’s right.” “You must be joking.” “Truth is—I’m penniless. But I’m a man—I’ll come back and pay someday.” “Don’t be absurd—to some wandering traveler like you!” Yang Zhi paid no heed. The woman screamed. And then, the sight of her chasing after him persistently, relentlessly— “Shut up!”

With a single glare, he fixed his gaze, and then— He let out a loud, solitary laugh. “Auntie, auntie. Don’t drive this man into such a wretched corner. He may look rough now, but he was born into a proper family—once even held some rank. He’ll surely come back to pay someday. Let it go for today.”

Then, from behind the woman,

“Don’t mess around!” “You’re a habitual dine-and-dasher, aren’t you?” “Hey! Everyone, come here! Beat this vagrant to a pulp!”

A young man’s voice rang out. This might be the woman’s husband. He held a trident with the vigor of someone charging into a fire scene. At his call, neighbors and fellow villagers—all armed with weapons—swiftly surrounded Yang Zhi from front and back, pelting him with filthy curses.

“Well, well. Quite a crowd you’ve gathered.” Yang Zhi’s drunken eyes swept across the scene. Even he wore a look of disbelief at this overblown situation. “A single breakfast turning into such an uproar,” he said. “Seems I’d forgotten to include this in my calculations for staying alive too.” He cracked his knuckles. “No helping it now. Let’s settle this account with my fists then.”

Two heroes met at the foot of Two Dragons Mountain, leading to subsequent events involving the Flowery Monk Lu Zhishen. “Hey, wait! —Everyone, get back!” The man who seemed to be the woman’s husband—suddenly restraining the crowd of villagers for reasons unknown—scanned Yang Zhi from his toes to the crown of his head before speaking. “Hey, Dine-and-Dash General.—I swear I’ve seen you somewhere before.” “Fine—I’ll give my name.” “Let’s hear it.” “I’m no liar when it comes to names.” “Listen well—I’ll speak plain.” “I am Yang Zhi—the Blue-Faced Beast.”

“Huh?! You’re the Blue-Faced Beast?!” “Whoa—why’re you pulling such a strange face all of a sudden?”

“...If you say that—could it be you were formerly employed at the Palace Commandant’s office in Dongjing, the Eastern Capital?” “That’s right.” “What remains of that very Commander Yang.” “Wh-what’s this…?” The man threw down his trident. “We had no idea who you were—please forgive our outrageous rudeness, sir!”

“Well, well. The winds have shifted strangely.” Yang Zhi must have flushed slightly at having his former status and lineage brought up. He couldn’t help but reveal his true nature. “And you—what about you?” “This humble one was born to generations of butchers in Kaifeng’s merchant quarter—Cao Zheng by name.” “Is that so? No wonder—for a country bumpkin—you deliver such sharp retorts.”

“Ah—this humble one is deeply ashamed,” Cao Zheng said, bowing his head. “When I served in the capital, I became a disciple of Instructor Lin Chong of the Imperial Guard—prided myself on mimicking staff techniques until folks dubbed me ‘Cao Zheng the Butcher Ghost.’” His calloused hands tightened around a sake cup. “...Later took over Father’s business venture in Shandong, squandered every coin, slid into the underworld—now here I stand as keeper of this peasant tavern.” A bitter chuckle escaped him. “And the one who barked at you earlier? That’d be this wretch’s own wife.”

“Oh, so that’s how it was,” said Yang Zhi. “That was truly my fault.” “In any case,” urged Cao Zheng, “would you honor us by returning with me? If we leave matters like this, even my wife would feel lingering discomfort—it simply wouldn’t be proper.” When Cao Zheng and his wife persuaded Yang Zhi to enter their family tavern, the neighbors who had gathered for the commotion soon melted away into obscurity.

Against all expectations, Yang Zhi ended up under the care of Cao Zheng and his wife, spending several days in a room at the village tavern. During that time, needless to say, he had confessed everything—the great calamity he had suffered at Yellow Mud Ridge and his current predicament of having nowhere left in the world to hide.

“...Ah, so that’s how it was. Why, the very notion of safely sending a ‘birthday tribute’ worth a hundred thousand strings of cash through this ravenous and grasping world—from Beijing all the way to the capital—was an impossible endeavor from the start. Oh, please don’t trouble yourself—no matter what comes, we’ll shelter you together. For now, just stay here and rest awhile, won’t you?”

“Thank you. But failing to prevent bandits from stealing it remains my failure—Liang Zhongshu of Beijing and Minister Cai in the capital might be suspecting this Yang Zhi of graver crimes. After all, this Yang Zhi is a wanted man throughout the realm. If word spread that you’d harbored this fugitive, I couldn’t bear bringing calamity upon your household.”

“Well now,” “Please—no need for such courtesies.” “No no—a man can’t hold his head up if he repays kindness with harm.” “I’ll bid you farewell by tomorrow.” “But do you have somewhere to go?” “At times like these… Liangshan Marsh does come to mind.” “If it’s there, Instructor Lin Chong has also taken refuge, I hear.” “However, there’s this one vexing fellow.” “A chief named Wang Lun.” “A timid soul full of groundless suspicions—a bastard who parades his paltry learning.” “I simply can’t abide that man.”

“In that case, how about trying Treasure Pearl Temple at Two Dragons Mountain? It’s like a smaller version of Liangshan Marsh.”

“Hmm, so there’s such a suitable hideout?” “There must be three or four hundred people holed up there as well.” “The mountain is south of Qingzhou.” “The leader’s name is Golden-Eyed Tiger Deng Long, you know.” Yang Zhi was pleased. The poison that had reduced him to a near-death state at Yellow Mud Ridge now appeared completely purged from his body. The next day, having received compassionate traveling attire and even some modest traveling funds from the couple, he set out toward Qingzhou. Thus, on his journey, he soon gazed upon a mountain that towered above all others in a corner of Qingzhou’s sky. “...So this is the famed Two Dragons Mountain,” he muttered as he drew closer to the foothills. That evening, amid the whistling pine winds, he wandered about searching for a place to spend the night.

Then, from the base of a certain pine tree came a sudden— “Watch out! You blind fool!” A man roared from behind him.

“Oh—so there was a human here after all.”

With that, Yang Zhi turned around. When he looked, a burly monk reeking of alcohol—who had just heaved himself upright—was now planting into the earth the monk’s staff that Yang Zhi's foot had apparently stumbled over moments before. “Hey, cricket! Spit it out!”

“What?!” “Acting all high and mighty with that broadsword of yours—how dare you kick my precious staff while I’m sleeping here peacefully and just walk off like nothing’s wrong?!” “I thought I’d stepped on some deadwood, but it turns out it was a monk’s staff? On the great roads under heaven, you won’t find any fool sleeping around.” “Don’t screw with me! This here’s under Two Dragons Mountain’s gate—ain’t no place for just any human to come wanderin’ through! Beg for forgiveness!” “Unfortunately, bowing my head is a disposition I loathe. Hah! So this beggar monk’s putting on airs to extort even a pittance from me, eh?”

“You talk big! Whether I’m some beggar monk or not—try taking this staff!” In that instant, a gust of wind whizzed through where Yang Zhi stood—had he not leapt aside moments earlier, his form would surely have been obliterated. “Agh—!” With that, Yang Zhi drew his broadsword as if it were shot from his waist. And then once more, “Huh—?!” he renewed his shock.

The burly monk before him had abruptly stripped off his monastic robes, revealing skin covered in floral tattoos that blazed before his eyes. “Well, Flower Monk. Retract your iron staff!” “Lost your nerve, coward?” “Don’t be so venomous. We weren’t exactly strangers.” “Smooth talker. Where’re you from, bastard?” “Both you and I once dwelled in Kaifeng’s Eastern Capital. First, look at this face’s golden mark—the tattoo on my forehead. I am Yang Zhi—framed by Gao Qiu’s vile bureaucrats with false charges, demoted and driven to become a common soldier in the Northern Capital.”

“What of it? The one they called Yang Zhi, the Blue-Faced Beast—who stood at Tianhanzhou Bridge hawking his ancestral blade, then sliced that troublemaker Niu Er clean in two amidst the crowd—that was you making waves back then?” “Ah.” Yang Zhi inclined his head. “The very same. Though at that time, you were Flower Monk Lu Zhishen—tending vegetable plots at Daxiangguo Temple’s outskirts.” “You—!” Lu Zhishen’s eyes bulged. “This... this is one hell of a chance meeting! How’d you recognize this drunken monk?”

"That tattoo was famous throughout the capital—even three-year-olds knew the name Flower Monk alongside it.... So why would that Flower Monk be here, of all places?"

“No—that’s a long tale... How about walking over there with this drunken monk? There’s wine at that Horse-Headed Kannon shrine you see yonder. This drunken monk would ask you something and hear your story too...” Lu Zhishen started walking ahead. As luck would have it, Yang Zhi was also seeking shelter for the night. Through the dark hours they conversed on the shrine’s rain-dampened veranda.

It was only natural that great upheaval had since occurred in Lu Zhishen’s circumstances. First, he began recounting the events as follows. When Lin Chong—with whom he had sworn brotherhood—met his tragic exile to Cangzhou’s great penal colony, he accompanied him partway, working the escorting prison guards like servants and ultimately preventing them from achieving their aim of killing Lin Chong en route. This affair had later been maliciously reported—with embellishments piled upon embellishments—to Minister Gao by those same prison guards after their return to the capital.

Immediately, an order was issued: "Apprehend the Flower Monk!" and Daxiangguo Temple’s vegetable garden was surrounded by hundreds of constables.

This night's commotion was truly tremendous. The mere act of arresting Lu Zhishen shook Kaifeng's Eastern Capital - the royal seat itself - to its core, leaving even the capital's citizens unable to sleep. Moreover, Chishen himself burned down the vegetable garden hut, crossed the great roof of Daxiangguo Temple, hid within the town, then appeared at dawn before the city gate's cordon where he toyed with countless soldiers. In the blink of an eye, he leapt from the drum tower's roof tiles over the city walls and vanished without a trace.

“From then on, it was back to a wandering journey. Long before that—back when I served as Provost in Yan’an Prefecture—recklessly using my innate strength became what drove me up Mount Wutai to shave my head! Afterward… well… I swore vows of reform to Buddha and my late mother… but none of it stuck. What compels this drunken monk to act thus? Is it the innate evil karma I bear? I think I’ll just drink quietly, sleep soundly, and keep things peaceful—but seems like something always comes along and stirs it all up again.”

After Lu Zhishen's reminiscence, Yang Zhi spoke.

“Those who go out of their way to provoke someone trying to walk the straight path are the world’s wicked officials.” “No—though in this humble one’s case, the circumstances are somewhat different.”

He too had laid bare every detail of how he had come to this point and explained his reason for targeting Two Dragons Mountain as his refuge. “That was one hell of a coincidence!” Lu Zhishen clapped his hands and said, “In truth, this drunken monk also reckoned Two Dragons Mountain’s Treasure Pearl Temple would be the perfect refuge to endure these troubled times. So I went to meet Deng Long, that mountain stronghold’s chief.” “Then you’re already settled in the stronghold?” “But Deng Long—that bastard—flat-out refuses to show his face! He had his lackeys deliver terms: defeat him in combat at the mountain’s base, and he’d welcome me as honored guest into their lair. So I took him at his word and went down—only for that coward to chain-shut all three fortress gates without so much as a grunt! Been four days now buying village wine and waiting here… Seems this whole contest was a ruse—I’ve been made a proper fool of.”

“You’re too trusting, Monk. Doesn’t it gall you?”

“It’s infuriating. So then—I considered whether I could crush those three fortress gates, but damn things are too sturdy! Even for this drunken monk, taking on such gates is beyond me. Besides, it’d be downright stupid to even try.” “Then we have no choice but to seize it through intellect. It’s absurd for this humble one—who fell victim to the ‘Schemer of the Birthday Tribute’—to say such things, but...” “If you’ve got a plan brewing, let this drunken monk hear it. If this keeps up, we can’t retreat from the foot of this mountain.”

“No—let’s retreat here once and return to Cao Zheng’s tavern that this Blue-Faced Beast mentioned earlier.” “Since it was Cao Zheng who told us about Two Dragons Mountain, consulting him might yield some clever scheme.”

Bringing the Flower Monk along, Yang Zhi returned several days later to the village tavern of Cao Zheng. “Three minds make Manjusri’s wisdom.”

That night, after their modest drinking party around the tripod had concluded—though what brilliant scheme had been devised remained unclear—the three men laughed in unison.

The detective force wandered lost in fog.

Next came the matter of Chief Detective He Tao’s wife and younger brother.

The once-renowned Treasure Pearl Temple of Two Dragons Mountain had now become a den of thieves. Gone were the sutra chants of a thousand monks and the tolling of temple bells; in their place, atop a couch spread with leopard pelts, a giant of a man lay napping like a crimson demon.

“Oh! What’s that?!” “That noise in the distance—voices.” “Could it be coming from the fortress gates?” “Hey! Someone go check it out!”

Waking up and emerging from the depths of the temple complex onto the upper stairs, Deng Long opened his tiger-like mouth and barked an order at the nearby underlings.

“Right away!” As five or six men began rising, a bandit lieutenant and several others came climbing up from the lower path. “Boss, villagers from nearby have brought that big monk all trussed up. What’s your order?” they announced in unison from below the stairs. “What?!”—Deng Long made a surprised face—“That makes no sense! When you speak of that big monk, you mean Flower Monk Lu Zhishen—the wanted man who stirred trouble at Mount Wutai, wrecked Great Xiangguo Temple’s vegetable garden, and vanished from the Eastern Capital of Kaifeng!... Sure we drove him off here too—but no way could peasants catch him.” “Go on then—bring him in with your eyebrows all wet for all I care!”

“But Boss, when we questioned the villagers, their tale wasn’t complete nonsense.” “What’s this? You saying there’s truth to it?” “That bastard—after we drove him off and he couldn’t scrounge up food—kept badgering Cao Zheng’s tavern in the village day and night.” “What’s that got to do with anything?” “Once soused, he’d crash into any house—demanding beds, shaking folks down for coins—and if they complained? Went on a proper rampage. Seems they finally wrangled him good.” “Not just that—he’s been crowing about linking up with Liangshan Marsh and making even Deng Long of Two Dragons Mountain his lackey before long.” “Spouting threats like that—ain’t that a laugh?”

“That bastard’s been going around spouting such nonsense?!” “So, they say Cao Zheng the tavern owner and the village headman put their heads together. For one night, they seated that big monk in the place of honor—pretending to humor him—while slipping a paralyzing drug into his wine and making him drink it.” “Ain’t this a masterstroke?”

“Hmm...” “That’s impressive work.” “You’ve bound him up and brought him here?” “After trussing him tight with rough rope, once the paralyzing drug wore off, they all swarmed in to kick and pummel him senseless.” “The monk’s shaven head made a pitiful sight indeed.” “Then they hauled him up the mountain in a clamorous procession—like hunters dragging a wild boar—with the whole raucous crowd in tow.” “Finding it too uncanny to finish him themselves, they’re all begging in unison for your judgment, Lord Deng Long.”

“I see.” “So that’s what that commotion was earlier.” “Alright! I’ll finish him off.” “Bring him here.” “…But wait—even though he’s bound, have him surrounded tightly and brought here!”

In due time.

Passing through three palisade gates protected by stone crossbows, spiked ropes, and abatis, a group of villagers and the bound great monk ascended, surrounded front and back by a large band of brigands. No sooner had they arrived than Lu Zhishen was suddenly jabbed in the back and forced to kneel at the foot of the stairs. The villagers too all together gazed up at Deng Long’s figure and prostrated themselves. “Is this our honored Boss? Because of this great monk here, you can’t imagine how much we villagers have suffered. We beg you to do as you will—have him drawn and quartered or whatnot!”

“Hmm. You’ve done well.” “You’re Cao Zheng the tavern owner?”

“Nuh-uh, that ain’t right,” said the villager, sniffing and wrinkling his nose as he glanced at the face of another villager standing beside him.

Unaware that this was none other than Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi disguised as a villager, Deng Long shifted his massive eyes to glare sharply at Cao Zheng. “Hey! What’s that thing next to you?!” “Yes, yes,” replied Cao Zheng. “These are the Zen staff and monk’s blade we seized from this monk.” “The monk’s weapons? Bring them here!” “Right away!” Straining as if barely able to lift their weight, Cao Zheng placed both items directly beneath the stairs—positioned right before Lu Zhishen’s very nose.

“You half-wit!” Deng Long bellowed. “I said bring them up here!” “Why the hell would you put them there?”

Then, Lu Zhishen, who had been bowing his head until now,

“No. Right there is fine.”

At this, Deng Long leapt up in shock. “What did you say, you dragged-in wretch?!” “Deng Long! Your neck won’t have time to turn.” No sooner had he spoken than Lu Zhishen wrenched free the ropes coiled behind his back. Grabbing his Zen staff in one fluid motion, he roared like thunder, bounded up the stairs, and smashed his weapon square between Deng Long’s brows as the bandit leader reeled backward. The ropes had been tied with false knots all along. Even as Lu Zhishen moved, Yang Zhi and Cao Zheng fell upon the panicking bandit underlings—needless to say, they surrendered without raising a hand in resistance.

In this way, the bandit stronghold at Treasure Pearl Temple had its leadership overthrown in an instant. Acknowledging the Flower Monk and Blue-Faced Beast as their new leaders, the four hundred subordinates swore oaths of brotherhood that very night, bringing out all the wine from the temple storehouse to hold a grand feast.

Cao Zheng led the other villagers back to their village the following day, and throughout Two Dragons Mountain, both the emerald hues of its greenery and the rustic village scenery somehow took on a transformed air. They strictly forbade cruelty toward the weak as their sworn code, and though bandits they remained, they vowed to live as men of defiance and tears—comrades battling the disorder festering under Song Dynasty rule.

Now then.—Yang Zhi’s place of settlement had, for the time being, been secured at Treasure Pearl Temple on Two Dragons Mountain—a conclusion witnessed here—but still, the aftermath of the Yellow Mud Ridge incident remained entirely unresolved.

No.

The investigation into this bizarre incident remained in its earliest stages, still shrouded in thick fog.—Where had the 100,000 guan worth of treasure vanished to, spirited away on seven Jiangzhou carts like the wind? Who was the culprit? The realm seethed with turmoil as rumors ran wild. “At this late hour, no apology or excuse can suffice,” came the report, “but the wretched cur responsible is none other than your own hand-trained Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi.” “Plotted against by that wretch, all sixteen men involved in transporting [the tribute] were made to drink poisoned wine… resulting in this disastrous outcome.”

Steward Xie of the Liang household, who had rushed back day and night from Yellow Mud Ridge to the capital, falsely accused before his lord that the culprits were seven bandits who had lain in ambush on the road in collusion with Yang Zhi.

The one left thunderstruck was Liang Zhongshu. In Steward Xie’s words—wept through aged tears—Liang Zhongshu could conceive of no falsehood. His countenance upon hearing this could truly be described as “bristling hair piercing the heavens.” “What? What. “Yang Zhi colluded with bandits along the way, made you all drink poisoned wine, and absconded with that treasure.” “Hmmph... You ungrateful dog-beast! How dare you betray me!” “We must arrest him and cut him to pieces without fail!”

Meanwhile, elsewhere.

At Minister Cai’s mansion in Kaifeng’s Eastern Capital, even on the day of his birthday, the congratulatory gifts from the Liang household still had not arrived.

“Well, what’s happened here?” Minister Cai fretted incessantly. The banquet he had hosted for guests from court and countryside alike failed to flourish, ending instead amid his profound displeasure—and still, the night deepened into late hours.

It was an express courier from Beijing.

"Ah!? Not again this year?!" Having read both Liang Zhongshu's letter of apology and a separate report detailing the full account of the incident, Minister Cai felt fury pierce through his very being while his body hair stood erect from an ominous sense that his birthday - now cursed by bandits for two consecutive years - bore some ill fortune.

Without waiting for dawn, he summoned his most trusted retainer, “Yellow Mud Ridge lies within Jizhou’s jurisdiction.” “Go down to the Jizhou Magistrate Office at once.” “And until those culprits are captured, remain there as my inspector—keep those subordinates whipped into line.” With that, he barked his command.

The retainer entrusted with the overseer role whipped his horse and rushed to Jizhou that very night. When they arrived, the local magistrate’s office was now in utter chaos. And no wonder—from Beijing’s Daming Prefecture, under the authority of the Governor-General, they had been bombarded day and night with rapid-fire arrest warrants, official documents, admonishing dispatches, and express couriers. Just then, yet another, “By order of His Excellency Minister Cai, a personal overseer has just arrived.”

When this was reported, the magistrate was far from being able to collect his wits. Suffering from sleep deprivation compounded by dread, even during their face-to-face meeting, he remained in complete disarray. “Your arduous journey here leaves me deeply humbled,” he said. “The detective bureau, criminal division, even our informants—all have mobilized their full capabilities to pursue the case with utmost urgency. We’ve sworn desperate resolve, establishing penalties including dismissal and salary reductions for any showing negligence. Thus I humbly believe progress shall come within days.” His voice trembled as he concluded: “…I beg but a brief extension of your grace.”

“Ah, no, Magistrate,” said the overseer with a stern face. “Such half-hearted talk of ‘within days’ gives no reassurance. You must understand what it signifies that Minister Cai has dispatched this humble one as his overseer. The seven jujube merchants reported to have appeared at Yellow Mud Ridge, a liquor seller, and the Liang household’s traitor—Blue-Faced Beast Yang Zhi. By strict decree, you are to arrest every last one of those villains within ten days and send them under escort to the Eastern Capital—such are the orders we bear.”

“What?! A ten-day deadline?”

“Should ten days be exceeded—regrettable though it may be—Your Honor may find yourself obliged to visit Shamen Island (a penal colony). Of course, I too have no face to return idly to the capital empty-handed. In any case, I came resolved to share life and death with Your Honor—you would do well to bear this in mind.”

The magistrate turned pale.

He had been handling matters until then, but now he couldn't afford a moment's respite. "Summon He Tao, Chief of the Criminal Division." Immediately moving to the duty chamber, he transferred the crushing burden onto his most capable subordinates. "He Tao. "What exactly have you been doing day after day?" "Your Honor. "Is Your Honor implying our efforts remain inadequate?" "Do not answer back. "You yourself can scarcely maintain composure in the Criminal Division office for even an instant."

“This ain’t no damn joke!” He Tao snapped back. “I’ve got hundreds of snitches working day and night—spread out like spider legs—sniffin’ after them criminals! What good’d it do if I went skulkin’ round playin’ dress-up too? Can’t you see me here breakin’ my back over this?” “Enough!” The magistrate’s voice cracked like a whip. “This magistrate endured worse clawing his way up from imperial exams! You think sittin’ this bench came easy? Ten days—round up every last rat or we’ll both be picking seaweed on Shamen Island!”

“That’s impossible! That ain’t no miracle work!” “No—this is Minister Cai’s strict command, to be fulfilled by any means necessary. The overseer has also arrived. If you fail to apprehend the criminals within ten days, I’ll lose my post—and you won’t escape unscathed either. First comes exile.” “That’s insane! Just because the minister’s overseer came to crack the whip—” “Your saying that only proves your desperate investigation still isn’t sufficient. Very well! I shall carve this superior’s decree—that this is no ordinary matter—into your very flesh, so that even in sleep you shall not forget it. Clerk! Summon the tattoo artist here!”

The magistrate too was somewhat agitated. He ordered his attendants to immediately seize He Tao’s arms and brand his forehead with an exile tattoo reading “Exile to Jizhou,” leaving a space for a character. It was as though they had affixed a price-undetermined tag to a semi-convicted criminal. “Damn, that hurts! Maybe this is retribution for all those years I’d been lining my pockets—who knows—but now that it’s come to this, working at the magistrate’s office sure is a bitter pill.” While pressing a hand to the blood on his forehead, He Tao made his way down to the chief detective’s private room. As he glanced over, the informants’ den across the way—though haggard from days of relentless pursuit—was roaring with laughter over some inane banter, their boisterous voices carrying through the dusk. He Tao, flaring up in anger, bellowed from the doorway there.

“Hey! Have you all quit your jobs and retired or something?” “Oh, Chief. What’ve you done to your face?” “Take a damn good look at my face!”

“Oh no, this is serious!” “Don’t act like this doesn’t concern you! Listen—if we don’t settle the Yellow Mud Ridge affair within ten days, I’ve been sentenced to exile! What’s with your carefree attitudes?” “Our deepest apologies! But even so, we’ve been wearing our legs to stumps sniffing through every nook and cranny of this area.” “How can you keep cackling like that? You fools! If you were truly working earnestly, you’d be parting every blade of grass to hunt them down across distant fields and mountain crevices! But no—day after day it’s ‘Buy me drinks!’ or ‘Help my sick family!’ Only then do you put on your pitiful displays of crocodile tears!”

“Hey, hey, everyone. Let’s take a breather, then split up and head out again. When I saw the chief’s forehead mark, it punched right through me. Tonight’s an all-nighter. No choice—we’ll have to act like crickets and comb through every damn blade of grass for now.” Ignoring those voices at his back, He Tao trudged home that evening in a foul mood. His wife noticed her husband’s gloom lingering over the supper tray—

“What’s wrong with you? … That tattoo on your face—”

“That case.” “Can’t you figure that out without nagging me about it?” “I can tell that much, but…” “But even so—”

“They’re ordering us to arrest them within ten days no matter what. And we’re still completely lost about where those criminals are hiding… Woman—seeing our home’s lamplight like this might only last ten more days.” “Don’t say such things—you’ll make my heart falter.” “But there’s no other way! This isn’t just the magistrate’s whim—this whole affair comes from Minister Cai’s own strict decree. I was wrong… The path I chose in life—”

“...Oh, there’s someone at the entrance.” “A visitor, perhaps?” “Oh, it’s just He Qing… My brother He Qing’s come crawling back after losing at gambling again, looking all dejected.” “I don’t wanna see him tonight.” “Very well. I’ll serve him some wine and send him on his way smoothly.” In the corridor she had run down ahead, her cheerful voice sounded more animated than usual. He Qing, younger brother of He Tao, having been told his visiting elder brother was under the weather, found himself with no choice but to reluctantly take the cup offered by his sister-in-law alone, looking as though it held no pleasure for him.

“Sis.” “Awfully gloomy tonight, isn’t it?” “Even your face looks all damp now, Sis.” “But Qing… You should know already.” “You should know already.”

“What’re you talking about?” “My husband’s worries. “Oh, look at that face he’s making. “The kind even his own brothers can’t get through to.”

“But come on—I don’t know a thing. The chief detective here lives like a king—steady under-the-table income, folks trembling at his name, plus a wife with radiant beauty like yours, Sis. What’s he got to fret about? Beats me.” “Stop joking! You know damn well.” “There’s no way you haven’t heard about Yellow Mud Ridge, Qing.” “Ah.” “That business?”

“There, see?” “Hahaha.”

“What an unpleasant way to laugh. Do you think this is some kind of joke?” “Don’t go twisting my words. Even I exist only because there’s an older brother to have a younger one. But hey—when your big bro’s saddled with a worthless little brother like me, must make him want to feign illness now and then, doesn’t it?” “How strange you’re acting tonight, Qing. Why must you speak with such venom?” “Can’t help it—sometimes a man feels like making a proper confession. Especially when his dear sister-in-law serves him drinks she’d rather not pour.”

“Fine! I won’t serve you another drop!” “You’re just nagging me about everything.” “Today at the office—some inspector from Minister Cai came. Said if we don’t make arrests within ten days, the magistrate gets dismissed and my husband exiled to some distant island. He even came home with a criminal brand burned into his face.” “Drink if you want, but stop with the cruel jokes.” “Huh. First I’ve heard of that.” “If things were that bad, I should’ve come sooner—but figured they’d just think this yakuza punk of a brother was here shaking you down for cash again. Couldn’t stomach that idea, so I kept my distance.”

“Wait a moment, Qing. What do you mean by what you just said?” “Nah. Just that even a yakuza-like kid brother like me might end up useful for some odd job or another.” “You’re so infuriating, Qing... Don’t tell me you’ve got some lead on the Yellow Mud Ridge incident?” “Oh, come on. Big Bro’s probably counting on those informants he’s always bribing with pocket money—his usual underlings.”

“So you’re saying you can’t talk about it?”

“Not exactly,” “But if Big Bro ever got truly cornered... well, I couldn’t just stand by watching. Though let’s face it—Big Bro’s a crackerjack chief detective.” “You ain’t even worth him wrinkling his nose at before brushing you off... Anyway, Sis—thanks for the grub. Let’s do this again sometime.” “Ah, wait!” “No need to go rushing off like that!” “I’ll fetch my husband right now.”

“But he’s got a cold, right? Hehehe.” “Husband! Husband!” Even before his wife called out, He Tao had been straining to listen in the corridor between rooms. The moment he revealed himself, he seized He Qing’s hand and spoke. “My fault.” “Don’t take offense—let’s drink anew.” “Oh, Bro.” “Liquor’s plentiful here.” “My, what a wretched face you’ve earned.” “I’ve shown you cold looks daily—too worried about your ways—but this brother begs a lifelong favor.” “If you know something, out with it.”

“Hmph. Is it about the petty thieves of Yellow Mud Ridge?” “Petty thieves! You can’t go getting the wrong idea here!”

“But hey, Bro. Those folks... they’re already laid bare for all to see.” “Gah! You mean it’s true?” He Tao rushed into the back room, fetched ten silver taels from a document chest, and plopped them beside his brother’s meal tray. “Scant payment, but a token for now.” “Brother, my apologies—I’m twisted in the joints.” “I’ll just turn away like this.” “Why this defiance? You want more?” “You want more?” “Enough! Shoving bribes up my nose’ll only gum the works.” “A yakuza brother. A good-for-nothing brother.” “This here’s my one shot.” “Facing you like this, Bro—my lone chance to strut a bit.” “This moment? Can’t price-tag it.”

“Then what’ll make you say yes?” “Ahhh, this hits just right.” He Qing spread his arms theatrically. “Big Bro, Sis-in-law—both of you lined up and strutting around like this? Pure satisfaction.” “Stop playing games! The reward comes straight from the government coffers.” He Tao’s voice cracked. “If that’s still not enough—” His shoulders slumped. “Qing... I’m bowing my head here. Begging you.” “Hah! Fine then.” “Thank you.” The investigator leaned forward. “Where? Their hideout—” “Right here.” He Qing rapped his knuckles against his own chest pocket.

“Every last thief’s bundled up tight in my breast pocket. Ain’t gonna escape—rest easy, Brother.” “Huh? In your breast pocket?” “I ain’t no stage magician, but let’s show you first—no trapdoors or hidden wires here.” “The evidence is right here.”

He Qing plunged both hands deep into his robe and retrieved the breast pocket. A thin leather wallet and a folded notebook lay inside. He kept only the notebook on his palm. "Now then, this here needs some backstory 'fore you'll grasp it proper." "Sis—shut them windows an' bar the back door too." "Walls got ears, an' lamp moths ain't to be trusted neither." "...See? Truth is, Brother—here's how it all stacks up."

“……About two months ago now.” “That was around mid-June, you see.”

He Qing lowered his voice and began to speak. “In Anle Village—you know the place—there’s a cheap inn called Wang’s. Under the inn’s official regulations, every night’s lodgers get made to properly write down their destination, occupation, residence, and age. Come lock-up time—when they shut the doors for sleep—the front desk transcribes those records. Then every seventh day, they deliver them to the village headman. The headman compiles those and submits them to the government office once a month... Well, Brother, this might be needless talk for you, but that’s how the procedure goes.”

“Hmm, hmm.”

“However, old man Wang—the innkeeper—had been bedridden since early summer, and his young hired hands were all illiterate and hated the task.” “...And right into that mess came yours truly—this gambling rat—who’d lost every last coin at Anle Village’s gambling den. No money to my name, but what the hell—I decided to stay the night anyway. ...You follow?” “Well, the day came to leave, but I couldn’t pay up.” “So I brazenly laid my cards on the table—‘I’ll come back another day to pay,’ says I—and got a cheerful ‘Sure, sure!’ in reply.” “The landlady came out and said, ‘How about you handle the bookkeeping here for about half a month instead?’” “We settled on this arrangement with the understanding that the innkeeper would recover soon enough.” “I thought it might be interesting—half out of curiosity, I ended up working as a clerk at that cheap inn for about twenty days, seeing guests off and welcoming them.”

“Well, I’ll be—it was you!” “So you see—I’ll never forget it—that was right at the start of July.” “Huh. July 3rd?” “That’s right. Didn’t seven jujube merchants line up seven Jiangzhou carts—handcarts—and one after another take off their straw sandals at the shopfront that evening?” “……” The flesh of He Tao’s throat gulped audibly. “Ah! Ah—suddenly, I fixed my eyes on one of them. No—I averted my gaze, trying even harder to act like a proper inn clerk. Thing is, I’d seen that silent man who seemed to be their leader among the seven before. I couldn’t recall it right away, but when I thought about it carefully after sleeping—there was a place I’d been taken to by gangster comrades and relied on several years earlier. —And what do you know? The owner I’d glimpsed back then was no different from him. Yuncheng County’s Dongxi Village has a village headman—a man by the name of Chao Gai, if I recall correctly.”

“Hmm, and then—” “Well now. That evening I wondered how they’d registered in the guestbook. Come morning when I checked thoroughly—all seven shared the Li surname.” “Li Chun, Li Chang, Li Da, and Li Zhou—like that.” “...Their registered origin was the same village in Haozhou, destination Dongjing, trade jujube selling.” “Meaning they were headed to Dongjing to sell their goods. Strange—I thought a village headman was among them—but that morning I just saw them off with a cheerful farewell.” “Then came the day after next—some yakuza pals showed up saying ‘Wanna come?’ Though my pockets were empty, I went to check the village gambling den. When night fell, I trudged back dazed with the cleaned-out guy. At the three-way crossroads, some strange bastard came tearing through carrying two empty barrels!”

“Ah, I see.” “The man with me said, ‘Hey, that’s Bai Sheng, the Daylight Rat!’ I called out ‘Brother Bai!’ but he didn’t answer or even look back—just vanished like smoke. ‘Must’ve been mistaken,’ I laughed it off and casually parted ways with my companion there. But then—the very next day—news of that Yellow Mud Ridge affair exploded through Anle Village like wildfire.” “Seven jujube merchants and one liquor peddler staging an act so cunning they made seventeen birthday tribute guards drink poisoned wine! Treasures worth a hundred thousand strings snatched in the blink of an eye! For four days straight, every soul in the village could talk of nothing else.” “Heh heh… During all that commotion, I quietly copied every name from that guestbook into my own notes—neat as you please.” He Qing produced a folded paper with theatrical flourish. “Here’s your evidence, Big Bro. Make it count.”

“Ah! Much obliged.” “I’ll take this.”

He Tao was ecstatic. He immediately took He Qing and rushed to the magistrate’s office. They secured a private room at once, held a secret discussion with the magistrate, then promptly selected about ten skilled constables and hurried to Anle Village.

They reached the village well past midnight. The house of Bai Sheng—the Daylight Rat—had long been marked by the constables. Rat-a-tat-tat—they tried knocking. A wife in nightclothes appeared at the door. With a startled cry, they cornered her as she tried to flee, “Daylight Rat.” “Quick one, aren’t you?” “We’ve come all the way from Yellow Mud Ridge to collect you.” When He Tao barked a command, the Daylight Rat tumbled out from under the bedding,

“B-Boss... What an outrageous thing you’re saying. As you can see, I’ve been laid up all summer with this heatstroke—groaning and burning up with fever, that’s how it’s been!” “Is that so? If you’re truly ill—then all the more reason. Don’t even think about struggling. I’ll give you proper treatment. Quietly accept these ropes and sit back to enjoy the show.” They instantly bound both him and his wife with their hands behind their backs, then split up to search the house—scouring the attic and beneath the floorboards. The stolen goods were unearthed several feet below his bed—a hemp sack roughly fist-sized, packed with gold, silver, and jewels.

They blindfolded the wife—her teeth clattering in bone-chilling terror—and Bai Sheng, his face deathly pale, then placed them on horseback and turned back.

When they passed through the magistrate’s gate and dragged them before the white sand court, dawn had broken.

However, both of them stubbornly refused to talk. After a brief recess, the formal white sand court session commenced. The torture continued for half a day. The wife could endure no longer. And so her husband Bai Sheng—the Daylight Rat—finally broke his silence and confessed. “Now that it’s come to this, I’ve no pride left to keep my word. I’ll confess everything. Yes… The mastermind behind this affair is none other than Chao Gai, village headman of Dongxi Village. Through old debts to those who once aided me, I was merely asked to play the liquor seller’s role and act according to the script. As for other details—who those six others might be—I’ve no knowledge whatsoever.”

“Alright, that’s more than enough—we’ll drag out the other six like yam vines!” He Tao received an official document from the magistrate’s hand. Since this involved entering another prefecture beyond their jurisdiction, negotiations between government offices became necessary.

However, getting bogged down in such procedures would mean there would be no recovering if his preparations were leaked. As for He Tao's struggles during this time—they were no simple matter. Moreover, in preparation for identifying the criminals through facial recognition, arrangements had also been made to bring along three able-bodied soldiers who had previously participated in transporting the birthday tribute and had since remained at the magistrate’s office as witnesses.

“First, I’ll head to Yuncheng County alone and make all necessary arrangements with the county office.” “The large group of constables and others—bring those for identification along and follow me later.” He Tao left these words with his subordinates, and by midnight, he was already galloping his horse alone beyond the county borders.

The ear ornaments were pearls of righteousness and benevolence.

Song Jiang,

Spurring His Horse to Dongxi Village in a Friend's Hour of Crisis

The front of any government office looked much the same, and here along Yuncheng County's main thoroughfare too, public scribes' stalls, lunchbox vendors, and sit-down teahouses stood with their eaves lining the street. "Hey! I don't care what dishes you serve—just get me breakfast quick!" "What? You say it's nearly noon?" "Ah—so while it's breakfast for me, others are having lunch already!" Chief Detective He Tao, who had spurred his horse all night from the neighboring county, entered one of these establishments before the government offices and set about filling his stomach.

“Right away, sir. My apologies for the delay.” “I’m starving here. By the way, Innkeeper—” “Right away, sir.” “I’ve been watching the main gate of the government office—it’s not a holiday, but isn’t it strangely quiet today? What’s this—does the magistrate not come to his office unless it’s past noon?” “No, sir. The government office’s morning rush has mostly subsided by now—both petitioners and officials are all on their lunch break at present.”

“Ah ha! Not far off at all! So my head’s been misjudging the time... Then tell me—what sort of man serves as this county’s clerk?” “Sir! Sir—look there! That gentleman who just arrived is none other than the county clerk himself!”

“Huh? Where?” He Tao stood up from the bench and looked where the innkeeper pointed. There indeed was a county official in clerk’s uniform crossing the government office’s broad courtyard, just emerging from the main gate. The man had a well-proportioned build—not particularly tall—appearing around thirty years old. Though dark-skinned, his features were clear and refined, with pearls dangling from both ears. With each step, an air of natural dignity emanated from him, giving an ineffably noble impression.

“Oh! You there—”

He Tao promptly rushed out into the thoroughfare and bowed his head. "Clerk Song. I beg your pardon—might I trouble you to spare your presence at yonder tea shop for a moment?" "Ah..."

The clerk looked utterly startled— "And you are?" "I am He Tao, chief detective from neighboring Jizhou County. This matter requires... discreet discussion. Perhaps over tea?"

He Tao insistently ushered him into the tea shop. Then, as an initial courtesy, he inquired: "Pardon my forwardness, but might I learn your esteemed name, Clerk?" "I must beg forgiveness for this oversight earlier," replied the other. "I am called Song Jiang - a mere clerk who commutes daily from nearby Song Family Village to this county office." "What? Then you're that renowned 'Timely Rain' Song Jiang spoken of throughout the land?" "Ha ha ha ha." "This humble one could never merit such grand appellations." "Now pray raise your hand from that bow."

“No, no.” “Please, do me the honor of taking the upper seat.” “I must protest.” “You are the guest who has traveled far.” “Might I inquire—what official business brings the chief detective of a neighboring county here?”

“Well, you see…” He Tao’s detective-sharp eyes scanned their surroundings as he lowered his voice.

“There are several criminals within your jurisdiction in this county who must be apprehended.” “Ah, I see. Then, for that procedure—” “That’s correct—I have brought official documents from Jizhou Prefectural Office.” “I humbly request your kind consideration in this matter.”

“Understood. …However, unless I first hear what kind of case this is and its details, it remains unclear whether this Song Jiang will handle it or if it falls under another’s jurisdiction.” “You must already be aware through the rumors circulating, but it concerns that Yellow Mud Ridge incident.” “Ah. I have heard that the birthday tribute—a cache of gold, silver, and rare jewels worth 100,000 guan—transported from Daming Prefecture in Beijing for Minister Cai was attacked by bandits en route. Have there been any leads in that major case?”

“That’s correct… We apprehended the accomplices Bai Sheng and his wife immediately.” “But astonishingly, it was confessed that the other seven principal offenders hail from Yuncheng County.” “Last night we mustered our constables and initiated procedures—with myself taking point to seek authorization from your jurisdiction.” “…I humbly request your prompt arrangement of the necessary permissions.” “Understood.” “And who might these seven criminals be?”

“The names of all accomplices have not yet been ascertained. However, the ringleader has been identified. The mastermind is Chao Gai, the village chief of Dongxi Village in this jurisdiction... Would you happen to know him?” At that moment, a flicker of surprise darted across Song Jiang’s brows—something He Tao failed to notice. Moreover, Song Jiang himself remained so still that he gave no sign of it. “Well now... There may be a village chief named Chao, but I can’t quite recall. I am always occupied solely with office affairs within the government bureau, and have not a single acquaintance among village chiefs in the neighboring districts. 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 trouble at all.”

“Despite the inconvenience, I must entreat you to deliver this official document promptly to His Excellency’s hands.” “That would be improper,” Song Jiang countered. “The seal on official documents may only be broken by His Excellency himself—procedurally, it would be irregular for me to handle this. As it’s now midday recess and His Excellency rests at his official residence, you should present it directly from your own hands later.” “Then I beg your pardon—might I request your honored company when the time comes?” “That’s easily arranged,” Song Jiang assured him. “I shall guide you myself.”

“I do apologize for the trouble, but I earnestly ask your kind assistance in this matter.” “It is merely my duty.” “There’s no need for such courtesy on your part.” “However, His Excellency the Magistrate has only just retired to rest, and I myself must now return home briefly to retrieve a forgotten item. Would you kindly wait here awhile and rest in the meantime?” “That will suffice.” “Please, once you’ve concluded your own business there.” “Then until later.”

Song Jiang made that promise and went out into the thoroughfare.