by Fred Yu
Feng pulled the Zhuge Nu bolt from behind his belt, opened the wax paper protecting the dark poison nugget, and proceeded to prepare his weapon. He poisoned the tip of the bolt and coated a handful of needles with the ingredient that killed the fastest. It was outlined in Ming’s book. The dark brown poison was the deadliest.
He searched through the pouch Ming gave him the night before and found a handful of floor spikes. Floor spikes were dangerous. Anyone could step on them—not always the intended target. That’s why the Venom Sect never poisoned them.
The sun was already high in the sky, and almost an hour had passed since the transport workers returned to the Valley of the Headless. Feng climbed to his feet, tucked the Zhuge Nu bolt in his belt, and moved toward the barricade.
A muscular guard tapping the butt of his spear against the ground stepped in to block Feng’s path. “This road is closed,” the guard said. “Turn around.”
Feng held the bronze tiger plate before his eyes. “I have a message from the Tiger General. Take me to the Orchid Farmer.”
The big soldier glanced at his comrades, then turned back to the plate. “From General Wu?”
Feng’s mind raced. He forced a smile and pushed the plate back into his pockets. “Take me to the Orchid Farmer.”
The big man stalled.
Feng knit his brows. “Who wants to take responsibility if the message is delayed?”
“May I see your pass?” another soldier asked. He flashed a big smile and bowed deep.
Feng hesitated. Every Tiger General’s messengers used different plates to distinguish themselves from one another. What if the guards recognized his?
There was little time to worry. He held it for the guards to see. The soldier leaned closer to look and flashed another big smile.
“Please. Come with me.”
* * *
The mansion was tremendous but not luxurious. Old, cracked walls surrounded the courtyard. The red door leading into the first courtyard had faded, and there were signs of rust on the hinges. Feng crossed the empty space and approached the main hall, the largest room in the mansion, which was reserved for greeting guests and hosting ceremonies. It was also deteriorating. The floor tiles, though made of fine marble, were coated with dirt.
“Please,” the guard said, extending his hand toward the bearded man. “This gentleman is the Orchid Farmer.”
An older man with a short beard, his hair beginning to gray, was writing a document behind his desk. He lifted his face, his piercing eyes flashing with light, his thin lips drawn back into a smirk. Without a word he turned back to his document.
Feng proceeded toward his target. The main hall was deep and narrow, sparsely furnished with small windows on either side.
“You’re here with more demands?” the Orchid Farmer asked without lifting his eyes.
Feng pulled the Zhuge Nu bolt from his belt and placed it on the desk. “These are defective. They won’t fit in the crossbows.”
The Orchid Farmer glanced at the bolt, then at Feng. “And who are you to make such an outrageous claim?”
Feng drew his bronze tiger plate and flashed it in front of the Orchid Farmer. The older man smiled. “Pretending to be General Mu’s messenger. You hardly know your manners. Where did you get the messenger pass?”
Feng realized his cover was blown.
“You don’t see it,” Feng said, recovering his thoughts and pointing to the bolt on the desk. “Let me show you.”
The Orchid Farmer leaned back. “Are you his son? I heard Mu never taught his son any manners.”
Feng picked up the bolt and held it in front of the older man with both hands. “Look at this tip.”
The Orchid Farmer’s eyes never left the younger man’s face. Feng gazed back. “The cylinder is not perfectly straight, so it doesn’t spin the way it should. When it launches . . .” Feng pricked his own hand with the bolt, and he released a short yelp in surprise. The veins around the wound instantly darkened.
The Orchid Farmer took Feng’s hand in alarm. “It’s poisoned. Venom Sect poison!” He stared at the dark veins fading, returning to their natural color. “How could—”
Feng suddenly jabbed the Orchid Farmer’s hand with the tip of the bolt. The older man sucked in his breath, and in one desperate move he struck Feng across the chest and sent him flying back. He stared at his own hand, at the darkening veins around the wound.
Feng choked and scrambled to his feet. He reached for his poison needles.
The Orchid Farmer drew a knife from his belt and severed his own wrist in one clean swing, separating his hand from his body. Blood splattered across the desk.
“You’re immune to poison? Who are you?” He spun around, clutching his bleeding arm, and ran toward a side door.
Feng never thought someone could move with such decisiveness. In that instant he lost both the element of surprise and the one chance he had to kill the weapons maker.
The Orchid Farmer stumbled out of the main hall, but he left behind large drops of blood. Feng drew a needle and barged through the side door, into the back courtyard, and along a small garden of orchids. The flowers were withering. He followed the trail of blood to a room on his left. The door was still open. He threw a needle into the room and ran in.
He had entered the Orchid Farmer’s private study. Books, scrolls, and potted flowers were neatly arranged on different shelves along the walls. The Orchid Farmer was sitting behind a desk at the end of the room, his right arm already strapped in a tourniquet, his left hand wrenching open a porcelain jar.
Feng launched a needle at the man. The Orchid Farmer swept the missile away with his sleeve and slapped the jar with his palm. The lid broke with a snap, falling apart, and he poured the contents into his mouth.
Feng threw another needle, then another, but each was flung aside with a flick of his enemy’s sleeve. He wanted to charge at him, dagger in hand, but he was no match against the famed Orchid Farmer. He planned on dying here, unable to escape, whether he killed his target or not.
It was obvious now that he would not be able to kill the weapons maker. It was time to run.
Feng spun around and headed for the door. Something whistled past his face and slammed into the opened door, forcing it shut. It was a flying dagger.
A cold, uncontrolled shudder coursed through Feng’s back. Despite losing so much blood and missing his right arm, the Orchid Farmer was by far superior. There was no way to run.
“You’re not a real assassin,” the Orchid Farmer said. “Who would send someone like you?”
Feng’s enemy was pale from losing so much blood, but his breathing remained calm and even. At any moment the older man could throw a knife at him. Feng had no new ideas. There was nothing left to do but speak his mind.
“Send me? Why do I need to follow someone’s orders to kill you? Everyone in the world has a duty to kill scum like you.”
The Orchid Farmer managed a smile. “Duty? Yet another self-righteous brat standing on one side of justice. You know you’re not getting out of here alive.”
“Of course I know.”
“You’ll give your life to kill someone because you believe he deserves to die?”
“I’ll give my life to cut the enemy’s supply lines.”
“I see,” the Orchid Farmer said. “So, you want to stop the Judge. But he already has enough money and weapons to wage war for a decade. What good will killing me do? I’m as expendable as you are.”
Feng didn’t know what to say.
The Orchid Farmer leaned forward, his eyes piercing into Feng’s. “Lose your life to stop the Judge so someone else can take power? Is it worth it?”
Feng shook his head. “Lose my life so the common people can have a chance.”
“Have a chance at what?”
“Have a chance to die of disease, or die of old age, or die giving birth.”
The Orchid Farmer drifted back in his chair, a deep sigh escaping his lips. For a long time he said noth
ing.
“Venom Sect,” he muttered. “You’re not real Venom Sect, but you’re immune to poison. Your martial arts skills are so bad I can’t even tell what lineage you come from. You’re a nobody. No wonder the Judge didn’t know you were coming.”
The Orchid Farmer’s words drew Feng closer. He was no longer aware of the danger he was in.
“Is the Judge supposed to know everything across the land?” Feng asked.
The Orchid Farmer emitted a cold, dark chuckle. “The Judge controls the imperial spy system. He has the eyes and ears of every thug and whore.”
“Every thug and whore to look for the Red Crest?”
The Orchid Farmer didn’t respond. Feng took another step forward. “To look for the Crest of Destiny?”
The Orchid Farmer started, scanning the young face, his own expression revealing both fear and alarm.
“Who are you?” the Orchid Farmer whispered. “What do you know about the Crest of Destiny?”
Feng could not hold himself back. The Orchid Farmer recognized something when the words “Crest of Destiny” spewed from his lips.
He reached the desk, grabbed a crumbled sheet of rice paper and a brush, and drew the Crest of Destiny. It’s only a birthmark, he had told himself over and over again these past few days.
Now, watching the stunned reaction on the Orchid Farmer’s face, he could not help but wonder.
He was barely finished drawing the symbol when a short gasp escaped the older man’s lips. He grabbed Feng by the shoulder, his steel grip almost crushing his scapula, and with a roar he yanked Feng halfway across the table.
Feng screamed. The pain shot through his body, and he thought he would faint. The Orchid Farmer released him, grabbed his pants, and drew them back halfway, exposing the birthmark on his buttocks.
The Orchid Farmer emitted a yelp, stood back, and stumbled away with another cry that resembled the shriek of a dying man. Feng gathered himself and retreated.
“You . . .” the Orchid Farmer said between deep breaths. “You . . . I killed you. I stabbed you in the heart. How did you survive? How did you . . .”
“What? What are you saying?”
The Orchid Farmer leaned against the back wall, as far away from Feng as possible, his face drained of color. His lips trembled, and his expression became blank, distant. With a thud the Orchid Farmer collapsed to the floor.
Feng stepped around the desk. “What is that symbol on my body?”
The Orchid Farmer was silent. His bulging eyes, frozen in a blank stare, resembled those of a dead man. “I owe you. I haven’t slept well for the past fifteen years. Every night I thought of what I did to you. And every day I wake up wishing I could have another chance to make it right.”
“What did you do to me?”
“I owe you . . .” he whispered again as if he didn’t hear Feng. “And I owe him too. I abandoned his father and left him to die. Now, he’s the all-powerful Judge. Now, I’m his prisoner.” He turned to Feng. “Debts of the past. Are you here to collect?”
Feng didn’t know what to say, what question to ask first. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to know.
“You can stop him!” the Orchid Farmer said. “You’re the only one who can stop him!”
“Stop who?” Feng asked, his voice quavering. He already knew the answer.
“He’s the most powerful man in the world right now. The emperor allows him to do whatever he wants. He controls the imperial army, the Zhuge Nu archers, the empire’s entire spy network. But you can—”
“Who is the Judge? How can I be the one to stop him?”
“Only you,” the Orchid Farmer whispered. “Only you can stop him.”
“It’s a birthmark,” Feng said, his voice still shaking. “I don’t have magical powers.”
The inevitable shouting of guards accompanied by heavy footsteps broke the silence. The Orchid Farmer gasped and leaped to his feet. Feng was still lost in thought when the Orchid Farmer swiped away the two needles still held between his fingers.
“You’re immune to poison,” he whispered. With a flash he inserted one of the needles into the side of Feng’s neck, another under the base of his skull. The world darkened. He wanted to scream, but he lost control of his body. He keeled over, collapsing onto the floor tiles when the Orchid Farmer’s strong left arm wrapped around him and dragged him away.
The older man kicked a floor tile close to the wall, then another, and suddenly parts of the back wall began to shift. There was a secret compartment in the room, a low storage area led to by a small opening. The Orchid Farmer threw Feng inside, spun around, and kicked the same floor tiles that triggered the passage to open. The wall moved back.
Feng struggled to keep his eyes open, fought with every ounce of strength in his body to move.
He was too weak, his limbs numb and useless, his attempts to scream no more than a weak exhale.
The wall closed in front of him. He lay on his side, the ceiling of the secret compartment barely high enough for him to crawl under. Hard boxes were pressed against his back, and as he adjusted to the darkness, he noticed a cluster of small holes next to him formed a screen no larger than his fist. He forced his face to turn so he could look outside.
The door burst open, and he heard the footsteps of many men barging in. Through the little holes next to his face, he saw armored men with double-edged swords enter the room and take menacing positions. He couldn’t count how many, but they occupied both the left and right sides of the Orchid Farmer.
“I’m fine,” the Orchid Farmer said in a strong voice. “But the assassin got away.”
A tight, raspy voice full of mockery and sarcasm sounded a short distance away. “We heard, sir, that the young lad who came in here carried the plate of a Tiger General.”
“That’s what I heard,” the Orchid Farmer replied.
“We were hoping you knew him.”
“Ko Sun, isn’t it your job to protect me so I can manufacture nice toys for your boss?”
“I can’t protect you if you don’t help me find the assassin,” Ko Sun said. “I’m sure you recognized his Tiger General’s plate. It came from General Mu.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” the Orchid Farmer barked. “Go find him!”
Ko Sun released a high-pitched cackle. “There’s no way out of this valley except through my men. And my men didn’t see anyone leave. Someone did see him come in here, in this room. Did you?”
“Is this a joke?” the Orchid Farmer forced a laugh. “Wouldn’t I have killed him already if he was standing in front of me?”
“Who knows?” Ko Sun said. “Who knows with you. Maybe you’re not capable of killing him. Or maybe you didn’t want to.”
“Ko Sun, if you don’t start looking for the assassin—”
“We are looking for the assassin. He came in here, and he didn’t come out. There’s no other door to this room. So, where do you think he is?”
“Don’t waste my time, Ko Sun. No one came in here.”
“Really?” There was a long pause, and then Ko Sun spoke again. “You wouldn’t be protecting General Mu’s messenger, would you?”
“And why are you so interested in Mu’s messenger?” the Orchid Farmer asked.
“Because,” Ko Sun said, his words slow and deliberate, “Mu may have run off to Mongolia, but the people close to him would still know about the Red Crest.”
The Orchid Farmer laughed. “Still chasing ghosts, I see. When are you people going to realize there are no magical powers in this world?”
Ko Sun took a step forward. “What did Mu’s messenger say to you? Is it something the Judge should know about? Perhaps something about the Red Crest?”
The Orchid Farmer lifted his arm, still strapped in a tourniquet with a strip of white cloth covering the wound. “What do you think he said to me? ‘Forget that I tried to kill you and hide me from the guards’?”
Ko Sun laughed. “I’m sure that’s not what he said. How about this. Let�
��s invite some guests in here to help you remember.” He lifted his fingers and snapped toward the door. More armed guards entered, this time escorting a woman and three children. The oldest boy was already a teenager, but the youngest child, a small girl in a little green dress, couldn’t have been older than five. The children looked around, wide-eyed, wary of so many armed men in the room.
Feng clenched his muscles again, straining to move. He had to break free. The Orchid Farmer’s wife and children were being threatened. How had it come to this?
Nothing made sense anymore. He came here to assassinate the weapons maker. Instead, the Orchid Farmer tried to prevent his capture. As a result, his family was being threatened. Feng squeezed his eyes shut and fought to pull his hands up. Sweat dripped from his brow. He dared not breathe hard or make noise, but the needle in his neck had rendered his entire body useless. He had to break free.
“Father?” It was the voice of the little girl, a child with a round face and large eyes like a porcelain doll. A gasp escaped the lips of the Orchid Farmer.
The woman noticed her husband’s severed hand, sucked in a trembling breath, and turned to the guards around them.
“Why are they here?” the Orchid Farmer asked. “Didn’t I already tell you? The messenger you brought into my house is not here. And he’s responsible for my arm.”
Ko Sun drew his sword.
The woman screamed, holding out both arms to shield her children. “What are you doing? Leave my family alone!” She turned to her husband. “What’s happening here?”
“Which one first, Orchid Farmer?” Ko Sun said.
The Orchid Farmer slapped his desk, rattling its drawers. “Stop! How dare you threaten my family!”
“How dare you defy the Judge.” Ko Sun’s voice was light, almost cheerful. The Orchid Farmer was shaking.
“Sit down, Orchid Farmer. You couldn’t beat me in a sword fight, even with your right hand intact.”
“What do you want?” his wife shouted, grabbing her daughter and pulling the frightened girl behind her. “Just tell us what you want!”
“The Judge wants to know where General Mu’s messenger is,” Ko Sun began with a smile on his face, his finger weaving between the Orchid Farmer and his wife. “And he wants to know what the messenger said to you.”