by Jeremy Han
Xiaoju had briefed them on the entrance of the compound. When Zhao asked him how did he know so much, Xiaoju merely smiled and told him that the Marquis was someone of ‘interest’ to their movement. It was obvious that they had considered him a threat to Jian Wen before. Zhao did not say further and as he stood at the wall, he prayed that the old man was correct. The first one in, the smallest, was the Farmer. He wrapped a cloth around his nose and mouth to keep the foul smell out as he made his way in. Even from the outside, the others gagged when the stench hit them. It was one whole day’s worth of shit. With a snort, the short man was in, followed by the Acrobat, and then Long and lastly Zhao.
The Farmer could feel that he had stepped on something soft and mushy as he walked up the angled trough, but he did not pause to think or imagine what it was. He kept going until he was on level ground again – he had reached the top of the trough. He moved forward toward the source of fresh air as there was no light in the Mao fang. When he reached the door, he pushed it slightly open and looked. There was no one about. He signalled the rest and they came up eagerly towards the opening where they could get a respite from the stink. Fu Zhen took a deep breath as he exited the toilet.
“This way.” The Farmer pointed and they were out. He ran towards the prison with dungeons that were dug into the ground, so that it was harder for prisoners to escape. At the residence, away from the stench, it was another world. There, the air was perfumed by burning scented incense, the room brightly lit and beautifully furnished. The Marquis looked expectantly at Ji Gang, willing him to divulge the secret of his mission. Ji said,
“I will not ask you again, Houye. I need the girl and I will have her for my purposes regardless of what you say. I repeat once more that my mission is secret and it is ordered by Yong Le personally. Defy me and you resist him.”
The Marquis sighed as he fingered the gold seal left on his table like it was some trinket bought at the market. His fingers rubbed casually over the word ‘Huang’, Emperor. According to law, when Ji produced the imperial seal, all in the room should have kneeled, but he decided to let that pass. He did not want to complicate the fight with the Marquis. There was truth in what the noble said; the emperor was far away. If the soldiers loyal to the Marquis would fight them, Ji and his small party would eventually lose, no matter how highly skilled they were. Then Ji’s mission would just disappear, and no one would be wiser. The emperor would not have cared. The Marquis would have invented some story about a team of Eastern Depot men seeking his help before heading into the dark, cold mountains on a secret mission, only to disappear. Either they were killed by the men they were hunting or some other unfortunate thing happened in the wilderness. Then the emperor would just send another team and the whole hunt continued on without pause. Ji Gang would be forgotten. Good hounds or steeds, when no longer usable, were discarded and forgotten.
Finally, the Marquis spoke to one of his guard. “Take the Commander to the cell block and give him the girl.” Then his voice hardened. “And then make sure my royal cousin’s rabid dogs get out of my city immediately.”
He got up and left the room. And the guard said to Ji Gang in a monotonous voice that betrayed nothing, “This way Lord.”
The Farmer observed the corridor leading to the prison block for a few minutes before he signalled to the others. On the wall, there was a faint line indicating the direction they should take after they exited the shit hole. Another testament to Xiaoju’s network; someone in the Marquis’ residence worked for the Underground Movement. The Farmer moved without sound, followed by Long, who had drawn his sabre, and then Zhao Qi and the Acrobat covered the rear. They stepped forward and ran silently toward the prison cell. The block was unguarded outside; this was after all a holding cell for the Marquis’ ‘food’, not military prisoners or criminals. There were no guards; just a big canvass lantern illuminating a single word that announced this was the Lao ‘prison’.
When they entered the narrow, stone doorway and pushed the door opened, they heard someone talking inside. The place smelled musty and old like wet soil. There was a pair of guards inside; it would be easy. The former imperial guards went in. The first guard was slightly drunk, the second was out cold. The first guard was muttering to himself something about the full moon. They knew what would happen to the girl and they had numbed themselves with wine to do what they needed to do later -- slit the throat of a teenage girl. Not everyone agreed with what the Marquis did but this was a feudal society. The Acrobat’s blood rushed into his brain and he came alive. He could feel Li Po’s presence, and he indicated to the Farmer he would take the lead. Fu Zhen allowed him and followed. He surprised the guard; the man leapt with a gasp, shocked at the apparition before him because the Acrobat was dressed in black and wore a hideous, black opera mask. The mask represented the Chinese ghost catcher Zhong Kui. Before he could react the Acrobat struck him at the neck and the man went down unconscious. The other guard did not even stir.
Ji Gang and his men followed the guard through the corridors of the palatial residence. They passed a frozen pond with bonsais and a miniature stone mountain. They treaded through snow as they made their way passed the house and into the darker side of the compound where the service buildings were. They could smell wood smoke as they passed the kitchen and through its windows, they could see the workers milling about, cleaning up after a day’s labour. There was a frantic energy buzzing as the servants worked hard; the kitchen help wanted to be away before midnight: they did not want to witness the macabre cooking later. That was left to a special crew, led by the Marquis’ personal physician. Ji pondered his next move; what should he do after he had gotten the girl? How could he use her as bait? He shook his head. He actually pitied the girl, but he swallowed the rare emotion of empathy he had and reminded himself that men of the Eastern Depot had no feelings. He clenched his fist and wished that he had killed the Marquis there and then. He hated the arrogant nonchalance the Marquis displayed toward his authority and his open admission of his crime. But he was also sure that it would have been the end of him because the local garrison was loyal to the noble. There was no way he could have fought against a hundred men, no matter how good his team were. Furthermore, he was far away from the capital, and this was after all, the Marquis’ territory. He was aware that he was very far away from his own power base. Officials he could bully with the imperial seal, but not against a battle hardened member of the royalty who was not impressed with it. The Marquis knew that he had contributed significantly to the emperor’s war effort and that counted for something even though the emperor might be far away. He heard his feet crunch the snow beneath as they made their way towards the prison block behind the servants’ residence. It wasn’t far now. Just across the building and the Lao would be in view.
Li Jing’s heart leapt with joy as he saw the familiar figure hunched over in a cell. He ran over. Despite his jubilation, his steps were careful and silent, running the way they were trained to in enemy territory. So quiet that Li Po did not even know her father had come. The rest of the team trailed behind, looking everywhere to make sure there were no surprises. Zhao Qi stayed at the entrance to make sure no one came in. Li Jing called softly,
“Haizi” ‘Child’.
She looked up. At first the masked figure in black staring at her shocked her before familiarity overcame all hesitation. The body language, the figure, the posture, and even the mask were familiar and she called out loudly “Father!!” She wanted to run toward her father but the bars and chains restraint her. “Don’t worry child, Father is here.” His voice was soothing and he ran over to the door. He slashed, and the guan dao broke the lock. He kicked the door open, broke her chains with his weapon and she ran to him, practically jumping onto her father with joy and relief. He dropped the weapon to hold her; it paled in importance to his daughter. The others knew that they were still in a dangerous area, but gave them the space they needed for the tearful reunion. Then Fu Zhen tapped Li Jing on his shoulder
and said, “Its time.”
Li Jing wiped his eyes and nodded. He looked at his team members and saw them smiling; their faces beamed despite the tension they faced. He nodded his thanks to them and started to move, gently ushering his daughter toward the exit. Zhao Qi indicated to Li Jing to go first; take the girl and send her out of the compound as quickly as he could. The rest of them would cover the rear. The Acrobat nodded appreciatively and exited the building, scanning the area before scampering across lightly towards the Mao Fang. One by one, they left the prison.
THIRTY NINE
The moon shone brightly, so Li Po had no problems following her father toward the night soil room. The bright moon cast long shadows of them. The Farmer was the last, guarding the rear. He was walking backwards to make sure nobody would attack them from the back. His feet shuffled across the snow, weapon ready. Then he saw a long shadow loomed across the path. The person was walking toward the prison block. The Farmer’s body tensed, his brows furrowed as he saw the image. He signalled the rest that somebody was coming and they gripped their weapons.
The silhouette took form and the shadow became flesh as the man rounded the corner. The bright moonlight brought him to life, illuminating the face that would bring eighteen years of hunting to an end. Ji Gang, Yong Le’s hunter, stood before the men who engineered the disappearance of the emperor’s prey. In that split second, Fu Zhen the Farmer, Long Wu, Zhao Qi, all former Jingyi wei of Emperor Jian Wen, appeared like ghosts of the past before the commander of the Eastern Depot; the man tasked to hunt this motley group. Eighteen years of enmity became flesh and blood again. There were no words, no introductions or righteous speeches about their respective causes. When tigers meet, they fight.
Ji Gang gave a loud shout as he launched a flying kick at the first man he saw -- Fu Zhen. The Farmer braised himself for the impact by deepening his stance and raising the staff horizontally to take the blow. It landed with an ear-splitting crack as the full force of Ji’s kick landed on it. But the blow was not meant to be. Turning his ankle, Ji Gang shifted his weight so that the attack became a leap; he used the resistance of Fu’s staff to somersault over his enemy’s head and attacked his true target – Long Wu, the man behind Fu Zhen. Ji Gang came at him with his weapon out in a flash. In mid-air, he drew his iron fan and whirled it opened like a deadly flower. His hand brought the weapon slashing in a wide arc from left to right that would have cut open Long’s throat had the experienced soldier not brought up his sabre in time. Sparks flew as iron clashed. Ji landed with a roll just as Long took several steps back.
At that same instant that Ji Gang executed his deadly aerial attack on Long, the man behind Ji came forward like a dancer; his legs covered great strides as his hand moved in a blur. The thin steel blade sang as it lashed forward in an expert lunge. An Deli’s attack was a perfect continuation with Ji’s feint. It was a perfect orchestra that was the result of many years of working together. An’s big strides and skilful hand caught Fu Zhen off guard, who was still reeling from Ji’s attack. The blade slashed Fu’s face before he could duck the steel viper.
Fu Zhen retreated from An Deli’s vicious attack, whose sword flashed like lightning; the thin, flexible steel blade made a ‘wap-wap’ sound as An directed the blade expertly at Fu Zhen. The Farmer’s feet moved backward fluidly, firm but smooth until he could organise an effective defence against the deadly thrust of the blade. He twirled his staff as he raised a circular defence, using both hands to control his staff in a right-left parry, meeting the blade, not with forceful blocks, but with deflective press-downs, channelling the attacks away rather than hitting it out. He allowed himself to defend until he could ‘feel’ the rhythm of the attack; he retaliated. His feet moved forward in a circular motion as he attacked with his staff, thrusting the pole with long range attacks to maximise his advantage, his weapon moving in an erratic pattern that even his mind did not know. It was not planned, but his eyes and hands moved as one and the pole struck wherever there was an opportunity. An Deli retreated but allowed the attack to come in; he parried those attacks that came too close, then he deftly side-stepped and closed the distance so that the longer weapon wielded by his opponent lost its edge. He kicked, but the Farmer dodged. He closed in with an elbow strike but could not get in close enough to hit because the Farmer had lodged his foot downward and trapped An’s leg momentarily so that the attack stalled. With his free hand, Fu pushed his enemy with his palm to create the distance he needed to use his staff again, but An sensed it was coming and blocked the blow just in time and retreated out of the range. They circled each other and the Farmer used the respite to wipe the blood running from the cut on his face. An Deli looked at him impassively. Their eyes were on each other like hawks, trying to catch the smallest movement that would indicate an attack or a weakness. These two men had heard of each other before the mutiny, had served the same elite agency, and fought against a common enemy the Mongols for their country once upon a time, but today they were determined to kill each other.
Long Wu jumped and did a mid-air split as Ji’s kick slid through. He landed and rolled on the ground; he slashed with his sabre upward to foil Ji’s attack as the commander tried to kick at Long. Then Long attacked low with a foot-sweep. He did not yield the offensive to Ji Gang just because he was on the ground. One could do a lot from the ground if trained for it. Ji lifted his front leg to avoid the blow and that gave Long the time to get back on his feet again with a back-flip, crouching in a combat stance. He lunged and Ji had to side-step away from the deep attack. Ji counter-attacked and threw his hand across where Long’s face was, the iron fan opening at the same time, filling the air with a sharp whiiiirt sound. Long brought his weapon up in time to block and the metal clanged. But that was only the first action: Ji’s leg came up and landed a solid kick to Long chest. Long brought the blade up just in time to shield the blow; the metal absorbed the brute force but did not stop the momentum of the vicious kick, throwing Long backward violently. Ji Gang attacked again with a great howl. He used a classical northern attack style known as the ‘Long Fist’. The ‘Long Fist’ style was highly athletic and mobile. The user could attack with either long distance kicks or dynamic, long distance hand attacks. Ji came in with a flip, which enabled him to swing his fist like hammers. Long ducked the first blow and kicked out, catching the commander of the secret service. But before Long could withdraw his leg, Ji caught it and used it to steady himself. Long had to break free; he brought his sabre down and Ji withdrew his hand just in time. However Ji’s attack was relentless, he immediately launched a twin-fisted attack that caught his opponent, one fist in the face and the other in the chest.
Zhao Qi took all this in an instant. He slapped the Acrobat on his shoulder and shouted, “Go! Leave this to us.” He pushed the man toward the escape hole. Li Jing jerked Li Po toward the Mao fang. There was no need to ask why: they needed to get her out before they could fight without distraction. Then Zhao Qi’s sabre flashed as it intercepted the attack from the third member of the Dong Chang – Ma Hun with his double headed spear.
Zhao Qi’s legs moved as though he was doing a tap dance to avoid the sudden low attack mounted by Ma Hun. The younger agent was cunning and displayed greater battle experience than Zhao expected: He feigned an upper attacked before he dropped low and Zhao had to respond. He lifted each leg when the spear came. Sometimes the spear attacked the front leg and sometimes the back one. This could not go on, the older man knew, so he waited for the attack to come for his back leg and then instead of withdrawing, he bent the knee and did a sweep so that the spear head was effectively lodged between his legs. The lower he bent, the harder it was for Ma to withdraw the weapon. Zhao attacked with a horizontal sabre slash that drove Ma back a step, causing the man to lose his grip on the spear. Zhao executed a small jump to toss the spear into the air with his legs so that he was free; he lunged with his sabre, aiming for Ma Hun’s chest. He fully expected the blade to enter his opponent’s heart but to his sur
prise, Ma Hun lifted the spear single-handed to block the incoming blow – it was rare that anyone could control the spear with one hand, then Ma Hun threw the weapon in mid-air and caught it in time to reverse the weapon so that the shorter end he was holding, which was also tipped, was thrust straight into Zhao Qi’s attack path. Unable to bring his sword arm back in time, Zhao avoided the blow by side-stepping and counter-attacking immediately; his left ‘tiger-claw’ struck Ma Hun and the younger man gasped in pain. He swung his spear wildly in reaction but the deadly tip cut through only air. Zhao was gone.
Li Jing shoved his daughter into the dark toilet chamber. The smell told her what it was and instinctively, she resisted. But her father’s urgency shook her wits free, and she forced herself through. She did not look down as her feet stepped on lumps on the ground. She shifted her weight gingerly until she found the trough. She ran down until she was hit by a wave of clean, cold air. She did not realise that she had been holding her breath. She emerged onto the street only to jump with a shriek; an arrow whizzed past her narrowly and struck the pavement, almost pinning her foot to the ground. It was a warning shot. The Acrobat came out and waved in Yula’s direction until she knew it was him. He did not want her to shoot Li Po and himself. When Yula raised her hand to wave at him, he pointed in her direction and commanded Li Po to go there.
