by Jeremy Han
“How skilled was the demoness?”
“Extremely. I couldn’t tell if it is a man or a woman, but it is definitely flesh and blood.”
“If not you’ll be dead,” Zhao stressed.
“Yes. We can’t fight demons, but it would not be easy for any human being to kill me.”
“So if it is human, then there must be a conspiracy, and that confirms without a doubt that the assault by Zhu Wenkui and the demoness is linked. The common link seems to be the eunuch, like what Ji Gang believes.” After a pause, Zhao added a comment about his former enemy. “Whatever one may say about Ji Gang’s methods, his investigative mind is first rate. To be able to piece it together even before there is evidence, he is truly phenomenal.”
“So what do we do next?”
Li Jing told him about his scheme.
“You are sure of this?”
“Yes. It will give us a double spy.”
“How do you know he will not double-cross us?”
“His fear of the Dong Chang is visceral,” Li explained. “And also, he really does have an axe to grind against those he serves since they’ve tried to kill him not once, but twice. He understands that he can no longer go back to serving Kong Wei. The Grand Eunuch considers him as tainted goods. Think about it. He was sold into slavery, manipulated, and sent to die. In many ways, he has a good reason to help us because coming out of this without incurring the empress dowager’s wrath is impossible. He needs us. Moreover, I saw a gleam in his eyes when he realised that he has a chance to finally get back at Kong. In any case, I told him the letter would be safe kept so that if both of us die by treachery, the letter would be sent to Ji Gang anonymously.”
“You have thought through it quite well,” Zhao said as he smiled wickedly at his subordinate. “Since when have you mastered the use of fear and reward?”
“We are at war, Commander,” Li reminded him sternly.
“He might still be killed when he gets back,” Zhao commented, his brows furrowed.
“That’s a risk,” Li conceded. “But it is something beyond our control.”
“At least if it works out we will have someone inside the enemy’s camp.”
“Yes, and from there we can plan our next move.”
Zhao clapped him on his shoulder. “Good work, Li. Let us see how far the currents will carry our little fish.”
“And the hunt for the crown prince?” Li enquired.
“Meng Da is confirming some leads. We may have found their lair.”
59
Kong Wei was tired, but happy. He had every reason to be now that his plans were going smoothly. During the day, he was busy with the preparations for the winter harvest ceremony, the most important ritual of the year. As the acting director of ceremonies the burden of the successful execution was his responsibility.
He went to the Temple of Heaven to make arrangements, and the newly appointed commander of the Xi Chang accompanied him to make his own security arrangements. True to his word to help Lei, Kong had selected twenty well-trained eunuch soldiers who would form the core of the Western Depot. In addition from the eunuch temples, he had recruited men who served on the Terrace of Spirits. They were men who could tell fortunes, read celestial signs, and perform tao rituals.
Kong thought of Lei, and felt a stab of guilt, but it was quickly gone. Lei was elated with the promotion. For once, the chamberlain had real power and being a commander of state security meant that he had now as much power as Ji Gang. He thanked Kong profusely when the news was broken, convinced that his friend had indeed spoken up for him, and before the empress dowager, Lei had sworn to keep the imperial family safe, Yet Kong knew what was coming because he had planned it.
The security at the Temple of Heaven was meant to be breached, and the emperor and his mother would be assassinated. Technically, if everything went according to plan, Kong would be in a position to spare Lei because their deaths would be mysterious. But if anything went awry the Jinyi Wei would bay for blood, and he must toss them a piece of flesh. Lei knew too much, and it would be better for him to die if anything went wrong. If the Imperial Bodyguard or the Eastern Depot were in charge of security there would be no way he could manipulate the protection detail for his plans to come through. But things could be made to happen if the show was run by eunuchs, and by recommending his friend, he had potentially condemned his oldest colleague.
Like the consummate puppet master he was, he had once again manipulated someone close to him for his ends without the person realising it, but he quickly dismissed these thoughts.
There is much to do!
First he opened a report from his spy at the Eastern Depot. He read it quickly, nodding in approval. Another piece of good news!
His mole had reported that that very morning Ji Gang had departed for the military piers. There he was seen boarding a specially commissioned boat that would take him south with all haste, by order of the empress dowager. Finally, the thorn in his side was gone and he chuckled as he savoured his triumph over the most powerful man in the empire. He congratulated himself over the successful application of strategy; instead of fighting Ji Gang directly, he had channelled the commander into a collision path with the empress dowager. On his own authority he would never be able to get the commander out of the way, but the queen mother’s words were almost as powerful as a typhoon, and it could sweep man’s will aside with impunity.
He sat quietly for a while and contemplated. In a few months all this will be over. Either I fulfil my vow, or I die. It is that simple.
Looking out of his window and into the sky, he spoke to the woman he could never be with.
“Majesty, everything is in place. One final move, and your dying wish would be fulfilled. Either that, or I will die for you.”
His hand fell to the small bag he carried on his waist, the bag contained his preserved testicles.
“I must say,” he said as he smiled into the vast night sky where he imagined her spirit to be, his voice filled with pride, “this is going on better than I thought. Soon your son will sit on the throne instead of that worthless, snot-filled brat.”
He felt clearer now, and resumed his planning. He always felt better after he had ‘spoken’ to her. It gave him strength. He was no longer afraid of death, only of failing her. She had been let down by her failure of a husband before, and he hoped he would make things right. He continued on with his soliloquy.
“For you, I will do anything. I will sacrifice my life and those who are close to me. I will surely be tortured in hell, and be tormented by demons for destroying so many lives. The innocent boy Wang Zhen and my best friend Lei Xiang for example. But I will gladly bear eternal condemnation if it would make you smile in heaven to see your son once again sitting on the throne. We are not fated to meet again. With you, all goodness and kindness in heaven and I, vile and wicked in hell. Even if I am reincarnated, I will probably be a criminal who will die a thousand deaths. But for you…it is worth it.”
It was time to move all the chess pieces for the checkmate.
He took out a piece of paper and wrote. With Ji Gang heading south nothing stood in his way anymore. He wrote letters to Yin and Yang in code, recalling them to Beijing. Yin and Yang, the two polar opposites he had created. He had named them after the opposite elements of nature. Yin was female, full of darkness and negativity where Yang was male, full of energy and positivity. True to their characters, Yin was slim and feminine in nature, completely alone with a dark, brooding nature, and Yang was huge, bursting with action and masculinity. He was also boisterous, loved challenges, and enjoyed being with others, and they were his creations, his tools to bring balance to the ‘universe’, to right an injustice.
Tomorrow, the letters would be sent, and he would busy himself once again and pretend that the rituals would go on normally. He must not alert anyone lest his plans fail.
While waiting for the ink to dry he took out his personal seal. It was a different one from the one he u
sed for official duties, so that if the letter fell into the wrong hands he would not be implicated. He opened the ink pad and slowly ground the seal into the red mush, then with the utmost care, as though he took great pride in committing treason, he affixed his seal onto the coded letters. The stark, scarlet ink, as red as wet blood confirmed the authenticity of the letters, and signalled that the game was coming to a violent, bloody conclusion.
With that one press of the cold jade seal vengeance was released.
There was no turning back.
It was death or victory.
60
Baldy placed his cold feet into the stream, sighing with relief as warm water eased the aching flesh and improved the blood circulation that had been restricted by his tight boots.
Near their hideout there was a stream that flowed from a natural hot spring. Hot water gushed upstream into a cold water brook, making the water there comfortably warm. The tayji had spent the night on reconnaissance with Yang, probing the defences around an isolated military outpost in a valley between two towns.
After the raid on the empress dowager and her entourage a new warring spirit emerged among the band. They were raiding their traditional enemy again. Now, they no longer preyed on merchants or outlying villages, they wanted military prey. Somehow, Yang’s leadership had raised the morale of the Mongols. He had an innate tactical sense, and access to good equipment like the flying fire crows that had helped them defeat their bigger targets. The mysterious fellow also had a knack for sniffing out isolated military camps to raid, and all these lifted the Mongol’s spirits. They were raiders re-living their past battles, and for once they had ample food.
Baldy felt content. He stretched his muscles and enjoyed the warmth massaging his feet. Steam lifted off lazily the surface of the stream as the cold winter air touched the warm water. Over the days the Mongol prince and the castrated assassin had became good friends. Of course there had been suspicion at first, but nobody argued with success, and as the huge man led them to several victories even the prince warmed to him. Sharing danger and victory was the surest way to enhance a friendship.
Last night they had scouted a camp situated in the middle of a valley. The lonely garrison had about fifty men, and their duty was to protect two villages in the region. The station was ringed by an old, crumbling, yellow mud wall, and taking it down would leave the two villages vulnerable. It was like killing the guard dog before the wolves could raid the sheep pen at will. The guards there were slack since they were so far away from the imperial inspectors, but they had not escaped the attention of raiders. The location of this camp was again suggested by Yang, who claimed he found it while roaming the area masquerading as a wood cutter. Baldy had been roaming the mountains of the region too, but somehow he was never as lucky as Yang. Nevertheless, he was glad the man was his ally now, and Yang would be joining him soon to discuss the details of the raid.
Some of his men wanted to use the last flying fire crow they had, but he had rejected the idea. That was for targets more worthy than this derelict camp. He feared his men were getting lazy. Instead of using their brains and swords, they just wanted to blow everything away. He shook his head.
Success brought complacency.
In the past his second-in-command Shaggy would whip the men into shape, but now he was dead, and for awhile sadness washed over him. As long as he could remember Shaggy had been his companion. When they were boys growing up in the Steppes they rode together. When the Mongol army was trapped in the Ming, Shaggy chose to stay with him even though he could have left with the tribe leaders who surrendered and swore to leave the Ming, never to return again. Shaggy had believed in his leadership, in his vision that Mongols, who had once ruled the Middle Kingdom, did not retreat.
Bailak…That was his name.
The prince took out a dagger and started to carve his friend’s name into the bark of a nearby tree. He thought of his greatest victory, paid for at the cost of his friend’s life. He could remember the spectacular skill demonstrated by the enemy who with one move had killed his friend.
The tall bald man....
After the battle he had personally carried his friend’s lifeless form back to camp. Shaggy breathed shallowly, but he had never regained consciousness. Blood flowed from his nose and ears, and then he had died. Those who had seen the fight were shocked. Nobody, not even Yang, knew who the man was. Shaggy was a decent fighter with a battle-axe but all it had taken to kill him was an extremely skilled blow to his head from an unarmed fighter.
How frightening! he thought as he shuddered, but his fear was soon replaced by bitterness.
Tomorrow, I will kill ten Ming soldiers as a sacrifice to you brother. They will serve you in the afterlife. Now where is Yang? I want to start planning the raid.
Yang had gone alone into the forest a little distance from their camp. He had told the tayji that there was something that he needed to do, and would meet him at the stream. When he was a distance away, and was sure that no one was nearby, he took out a letter he had picked up some time ago from one of the drop-offs arranged with Kong. Some anonymous agent would deposit messages from his master, and if he needed to pass word he could do the same.
The message, although coded to prevent anyone from reading, was clearly understood by him: It was time for him to go north. His mission, which was to stir trouble, had had its desired effect. The myth of the crown prince from hell had taken root, and had provoked the response Kong wanted from the imperial court, and the commander of the Eastern Depot had been disgraced and sent south to deal with it.
So…that’s who he is, Yang thought. He remembered the big, bald man who struck fear among the Mongols.
Now he was being commanded to go to the capital for the final mission…the assassination of the spoiled emperor and his unworthy mother. He found it strange that the old eunuch seemed warmer in this letter, as though he was welcoming a relative home. The message was not as cold and clipped as the ones before had been, as though giving him an order to kill the most heavily guarded person in the empire was something to look forward to. Even though this was the moment he had been waiting for, he found the next part of the orders disturbing.
Leave no traces….
That meant only one thing. He had to find a way to eliminate his comrades.
Tension built in his chest. Although the big assassin had known that this day would come he found that he was reluctant. He had grown to like the prince and his men. Yang had always been alone, but he had fought on their side, led them, and shared their joys and sorrows after each raid. They endured the cold of living in the wild, sat side-by-side near roaring fires after they had stolen livestock, singing while waiting for the mouth-watering meat to cook, and it was hard not to form ties after going through thick and thin with the men.
He felt a knot tighten in his gut as he contemplated the action he needed to take. How could he kill all of them? Even if he had a way, he was unwilling. He knew Baldy was waiting for him, but he did not want to sit next to the man he was being ordered to betray.
Damn it! his thoughts roared as he punched a tree in frustration. Disobeying Kong was not within his realm of thinking because the old eunuch had practically raised him. Although he knew the eunuch had shaped him for violent purposes, somehow he had always felt as though the old man had something more in store for him.
In his younger days he had always wanted to please the senior, but now something else stirred in him. Loyalty among his fellow warriors. Yang had never liked to be alone, and as far as he could remember he did not have many friends. Even after he was recruited by Kong, the people who trained with him in secret were not really close. They were mostly loners. He remembered one of them in particular, a slim boy who appeared neither male nor female, yet his viciousness surpassed all of them. Through all their years of training, that boy had never spoken a single word. Nobody had wanted to speak to him either. There was something inherently dark and evil about him.
Now that
he had found new comrades he dreaded his orders to eliminate them. In fact he enjoyed the respect they gave him, and it filled him with pride. The admiration filled a void in his heart, and at the same time he knew he could lead. Leadership was instinctive, and he knew he had it. Somehow, he felt as if he were born to lead and this opportunity allowed him to fulfil that inclination. But now he was being ordered to betray those who trusted him.
Leaning on a tree, he pressed his head against his arm.
A few possibilities coursed through his mind. He could let fate decide the destiny of his friends, and as much as it saddened him he had to give an account to the old eunuch. He could not possibly tell his master that he had allowed the Mongols to live, yet he could not bring himself to wield the blade.
After much thinking, finally he had found a way out of his dilemma.
With sadness in his heart he went to meet with the impatient prince to plan their unwitting destruction.
61
“You are sure?” Zhao asked Meng excitedly.
“Yes,” the imperial agent confirmed. “We have found their next target.”
“How?” the Acrobat asked as he came over and joined his commander.
“A patrol found an ambush site being prepared near the garrison by the valley of Turtle Mountain. There were signs that people have been watching the fort for some time.”
“Why Turtle Mountain?” Zhao asked.
“Look.” Meng laid a map on the table, the tallow candle illuminating the parchment with a yellowish tint. His finger indicated the location of the camp and its surroundings. Zhao and the Acrobat leaned forward to study it and immediately grasped its significance.
The Acrobat looked at the imperial agent, saying, “This garrison provides security to the nearby villages.” His finger traced the radius, and stopped at two villages, one to the east, and the other to the north. “Take down the camp, and the area becomes theirs to plunder.”
