The Ming Storm

by Yan LeiSheng

  Chen Xi froze. He had barely had time to unsheathe his sword and was too far from the attack to intervene… but someone else did it for him. Just as the situation seemed desperate and the fight unfairly balanced, a flash of steel stopped poisoned needles in their path, and Yang Siwei let out a piercing scream of pain. The fingers holding his weapons had just been sliced through by one of Wang Yangming’s young aides.

  Seeing the old man tumble to the ground like a wet rag, Zhang You quickly took the decision to cut his throat. He had been somewhat traumatized by his imprisonment during the previous rebellion, and generally never took risks with this type of high-level combatant. The intruder who had posed as a corpse had also managed to let go of his dagger and free himself from the grip of the energy technique. He spun round ready to run for the door, when Lady Wa’s twin daggers sank into his back. While she had taken some time to react, she was now ready to unleash her hatred on the man who had tried to destroy the peace accord that she held so dear. The assassin desperately rushed towards Wang Yangming once more, striking him in the chest with all his strength, a blow which he couldn’t avoid due to Lady Wa blocking his view. He absorbed the full impact, but then quickly replicated it by grasping his assailant’s arms, forcing them to bend at an unnatural angle. They broke with a sickening crack, and the man collapsed to the floor writhing in pain. Chen Xi hurried to him, pinning him to the floor by pressing the tip of his sword to his throat.

  One of the assassins was dead and the other injured. Lu Su, not wishing to be associated with his master’s betrayal, was the first to break the stunned silence of the stunned.

  “It’s got nothing to do with me!” he cried.

  “Nor me!” Cen Bangxiang echoed, for the same reasons.

  Having just sliced Yang Siwei’s throat before he could confess the reasons for the attack or the person who ordered it, Zhang You also feared suspicion of being involved in the plot. His loyalty to Wang Yanging had been unwavering ever since the man had allowed him to rejoin the army, so he feared he had made a terrible mistake. The esteemed scholar soon calmed the simmering tensions.

  “Sirs,” he announced, “let’s not get carried away. I am sure that these assassins were not sent by any of you.”

  “Mr Wang,” Wang Shou responded with admirable calm, “let me also assure you that we had no idea of Yang Siwei’s vile treachery.”

  “I’m sure all three of you are sincerely pleased by this agreement, so I can’t imagine any reason you would wish to see it terminated.” He turned towards the guards. “Behead these two assassins, publicly.”

  Zhang You was surprised he didn’t seize the opportunity to interrogate the living assassin, but said nothing. Before the man with the two broken arms was taken outside, Chen Xi bent to his ear to whisper, “It’s too late to be scared now!”, and the room returned to relative peace.

  Lady Wa did not feel calm. She was very aware that trying to help Wang Yangming with an insufficient level of kung-fu had been a mistake, and that without her clumsy intervention, he would not have had to suffer the violent blow to his chest.

  “Mr Wang…” she began.

  “Thank you very much for coming to my aid,” the master kindly cut her off. “In view of what just happened, I hope that you will never forget to always be on guard, even within your own walls.”

  “I will.”

  From this day forward, she would have complete loyalty to the imperial government, even going so far as to send the Wolves as reinforcements against the invasion of Japanese pirates. And their respect for Wang Yangming would lead the descendants of the Cen clan to have unwavering loyalty to their country for many years to come.

  When those involved in the peace negotiations had composed themselves, Cen Bangxiang, Lu Su, and Wang Shou led the imperial dignitaries to inspect the troops and ensure the execution of the assassins was clearly communicated to the local population as a strong message of support for the central government.

  On returning to the main hall, Wang Yangming began to stagger. His two aides moved to support him then took him to a small adjoining room to rest.

  “Master, what is happening to you?” one of them asked.

  This voice had nothing masculine about it, and for good reason: it was Shao Jun.

  “A-Liang, make me a bowl of invigorating soup,” he told his real aide, who quickly left the room.

  “Are you injured, master?” the young woman asked, helping the mentor sit.

  He had practiced martial arts for his entire life but the years had not spared him; every autumn that came he grew a little weaker and more out of breath.

  In the general confusion, Shao Jun hadn’t seen the violent blow he’d taken to the chest.

  “It’s nothing,” he chuckled. “I only met Luo Xiang on a few occasions, but his talent was impressive.”

  “He was the assassin?”

  “Of course! The character Luo is composed of Si and Wei, and Xiang can also be pronounced as Yang… When the secretary was introduced as Yang Siwei, I immediately knew I was dealing with the Tiger Luo Xiang.”

  “But his beard looked so real…”

  While it had certainly been very well made, it moved unnaturally just before he made to attack, something only a sharp eye would have noticed. The young woman wouldn’t have recognized him with or without this artifice, as Luo Xiang was the only Tiger she had never seen. Wang Yangming let out a sigh and used the writing equipment on a nearby table to sketch a face which he showed to his pupil.

  “Looking at this, do you recognize the face of the man who played dead?”

  “It’s him!” she exclaimed, impressed by the quality of the drawing.

  The master picked up his pen to add a long, sparse beard to the face.

  “And now?”

  The portrait was now a picture of Yang Siwei, alias Luo Xiang! The young woman was even more astonished.

  “Brothers?” she asked.

  “That’s the conclusion I came to. Even I was surprised.”

  Shao Jun had reached Wang Yangming two days earlier to warn him that Zhang Yong had visited Yang Yiqing to check he still had his jade pendant. The mentor had therefore been prepared for an imminent attack of some kind, but had expected something like a potential assassin hidden among the men under his command, and not among the entourage of the Tianzhou rebels! The day before, he had sent Shao Jun to spy on Wang Shou and Lu Su to gauge their opinions regarding peace before sending them Lady Wa and Zhang You. It was then that he had heard of this mysterious Master Yang who seemed so determined to precipitate a change in government. The disguised Tiger must also have had unusual self-control to dedicate himself to the minutiae of establishing a role and position which would quickly be reduced to nothing when the time came to act.

  It was probably Zhang Yong who had given him the role a long time ago, just like he had persuaded the Emperor to send Wang Yangming to pacify the resulting revolt. It was a patient and long-term strategy, which used pawns cleverly placed in position several moves ahead. And without Shao Jun’s unexpected intervention, the assassination would certainly have been successful. The mentor of the Society of the Mind couldn’t help but admire his opponent’s ingenuity.

  “So that was why you didn’t interrogate him before his execution!” exclaimed the young woman. “You already knew that he was acting on the orders of Zhang Yong, who had you sent here solely to have you assassinated…”

  “To begin with I think he just wanted me out of the way so you would be easier to capture, but then he ordered my death when his suspicions were confirmed after his visit to Yang Yiqing.”

  Everything was clear now: the leader of the Tigers had told Luo Xiang to light the fuse in Tianzhou as a pretext to send Wang Yangming, which would surprise no one due to his impeccable record of service and his old friendship with the captain of the imperial guard. And if he later turned out to be the me
ntor of the Central Plain Brotherhood, it would be easy to put an end to him there, while lamenting his death as a tragedy resulting from the rebellion and with no direct link to Zhang Yong. It was best to avoid spreading news of the affair to prevent the region from falling into chaos once more and avert any crisis at the court. But a confrontation between these two enemies was becoming inevitable now that Luo Xiang was dead.

  “What can we do now, master?” Shao Jun asked after a moment of reflection.

  “It’s time to catch a sea turtle!”

  “Pardon?”

  “All Zhang Yong’s scheming, his quest for the Precursor Box especially, are connected to the scroll engraved with the characters Dai Yu. We must act quickly if we are to thwart his plans and find the sea turtle before he does.”

  Wang Yangming was alluding to the legend in which the islands of Dai Yu and Yuan Jiao were broken off from the other sacred mountains and drifted to the North Pole, after giants from the dragon realm caught the turtles that carried them. Her master’s perpetual mischievousness never failed to amuse Shao Jun. She was delighted to see his eyes sparkle with the impish gleam of a teenager impatient to embark on a new adventure.

  “Very well, master, but how will we go about it?”

  “Do you still have the jade pendant?”

  “It never leaves my side.”

  “Even better.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “The imperial troops will leave the region now that my official business here is complete. When we arrive in Guilin prefecture, you will wait in Hongqimen, a fishing village to the southeast of Guangzhou. On the day of the dragon boat festival, you will find a certain Tiexin, to whom you will show the pendant to prove that I sent you. We have men there ready to fight for us.”

  Shao Jun was stunned that the mentor had these secret troops at his disposal – such a level of preparation was worthy of Zhang Yong. If these men supported their cause, rebuilding the Brotherhood would be easier with their help.

  “This Tiexin and these soldiers, are they your disciples?” she asked.

  “Not at all. We can use them, but we can’t trust them.”

  There was a famous saying that contradicted this: “Do not doubt your allies, and do not ally with those you doubt”, but the master refused to explain further.

  “For my part, I will only arrive in Hongqimen just before the festival,” he added.

  “You won’t stay there with me?”

  “No, I have three armies to return to their garrison.”

  Touched by Shao Jun’s concern, he tried to reassure her.

  “Young girl, there is no time to waste, you didn’t even know where to go when you arrived in China…”

  It wasn’t a reproach, just the simple truth. She had left the country in midst of extreme chaos, and after Zhu Jiuyuan’s death in Europe at the hands of the Tigers, she had wandered aimlessly for two years… but on her journey, she had matured and perfected her kung-fu. Certainly, neither Ezio Auditore nor Wang Yangming had been able to give her the clear answers she thought she needed, but her understanding of the world in which she lived had only grown since her return. Yet the more clearly she saw, the more her faith in her ability to rebuild the Brotherhood decreased.

  “You’re right, master,” she responded. “I will trust your judgement and follow your instructions.”

  “You alone are responsible for the path you take. Just as Master Auditore did not instruct your return to China, neither will I impose my own decisions on you.” He looked straight into her eyes and finished in a soft, fatherly tone, “Young girl, your life is your own.”

  While these words were meant to be comforting, they sent a chill through Shao Jun, suddenly reminding her that her path would continue to be as solitary as it always had been. “It’s true,” she thought to herself, “I thought I had to follow in my master’s footsteps, but his path is not mine. I must make my own way.”

  The Society of the Mind had been her first real family, but it had been torn apart by the Eight Tigers. She would never forget the pain and sadness she had felt, which had driven her to swear to rebuild the Brotherhood despite having no idea how to proceed. Now, though the task seemed as difficult – if not more so – than ever, she could at least see it more clearly, which only increased her determination.

  “Understood!” she responded simply.

  “After everything you’ve done recently, take some time to rest. We will meet again in Hongqimen for the dragon boat festival.”

  The young woman remained silent for a moment before bowing, hands clasped before her chest.

  “I will follow your instructions,” she eventually said before withdrawing.

  The decisive battle would soon commence.

  Once alone, Wang Yangming was overcome by a coughing fit and brought a hand to his mouth. When he took it away, it was spattered with blood. It wasn’t surprising: his protective technique had been broken by the strike of the twin disguised as a guard. While he was tougher than the average person, the fight had sapped his strength; he was now on the verge of fainting. He would require a good month for his neigong – his internal energy – to fully replenish, and he would need everything he had to face Zhang Yong’s next attack. The leader of the Tigers would be furious to learn of his acolyte’s death, but he was probably still unaware of Shao Jun’s location, a key advantage which should be maintained. This was also why the mentor insisted that their paths should diverge as soon as possible.

  When A-Liang, the young aide who had left to find some soup, returned with a steaming bowl, he was alarmed to find his master in such a piteous state. As Confucian values demanded, he had deep respect for his instructor.

  “Master Wang, what happened?”

  “It’s nothing. Just temporary fatigue, that’s all. Go and rest.”

  “But master… where is A-Jun?”

  This was the name Wang Yangming had used to introduce Shao Jun to the young disciple who had followed him for so long.

  “A-Jun has gone to rest, do not disturb him.”

  A-Liang had to hide his disappointment. A curious young man, he burned with impatience to go and ask his “comrade”, who he took to be male, where he had learned his kung-fu and if he could teach him some.

  When the aide withdrew carrying the empty bowl, Wang Yangming relaxed on his chair and, hands resting on his knees, began his neigong exercises. Implementing his plan would take time, and Zhang Yong would surely launch his next attack before he was fully recovered. Was this how it would all end, with the failure of the last hope of the Society of the Mind? No, he smiled to himself, their chances weren’t zero. In a long-ago discussion with his two old friends, their respective world views had continued to surprise one another. And that was how he would continue to face his opponent: by developing strategies that his mind, brilliant though it was, would be unable to conceive of.

  •••

  The country had over a thousand messenger posts. In addition to the two capitals and the thirteen prefectures, every large town had its own, which ensured urgent missives never took longer than ten to fifteen days to reach their destination. When a rider arrived, they exchanged their mount for another of equivalent quality before continuing their journey. The largest posts had up to twenty-four, but the smallest only five or six, which in busy periods could force messengers to accept a lower-quality mount than the one they arrived on. As the one Xu Pengju had given Shao Jun was one of his best, she had been able to reach Tianzhou using only the highest quality horses. However, her current journey would not be as fast, as the approach of the dragon boat festival meant reduced availability of high-quality mounts.

  The young woman took the main road out of Guilin towards the southeast and had just left Pingle to travel a quieter path, frequented more by hares and rabbits than by humans. She should then pass Wuzhou and Zhaoqing before finally arriving in Guangzhou, but the tracks whic
h crossed the uncivilized parts of Guangdong and Guangxi were treacherous and uncertain, overgrown with abundant vegetation encouraged by the region’s gentle, moist climate, so she was unable to gallop constantly. Rocking with the rolling gait of her mount, she had plenty of time to lose herself in thought.

  When she returned to China, the Tigers were seven in number. And while four had since lost their lives, their leader was as unfathomable as a bottomless well. The assassination attempt he had ordered in Tianzhou proved his talent for strategy and the extent of his political power, as well as his ability to make decisive choices without hesitation. Shao Jun couldn’t help wondering if Wang Yangming would have survived without her intervention. But nothing could shake the respect she had for her master, and she was convinced he was right: their only chance of victory lay in finding the famous isle.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a plaintive moan around the next bend, just a little way on. She spurred her mount, rounding the corner to discover what looked like an unfortunate accident: at the foot of a large tree lay an overturned cart and the mule who had pulled it dead in a pool of blood, and a middle-aged woman in a flowered jacket and unbound feet. It was she who was moaning in pain.

  “Is anyone there?” she called as she heard the approaching footsteps. “Help!”

  Shao Jun forced herself to shake the idea that this could be a trap. Despite the demonstration of her kung-fu, no one knew her or could have recognized her in Tianzhou, then once in Guilin, she had left the imperial troops with the greatest secrecy. What’s more, the road she had taken was so deserted that no one could have followed her without being seen from several lis away.