by Fred Yu
“It’s not safe—” Han started.
“I know. The secret army is scouring the land, and every thug and whore is out there looking for me. But when is anyone really safe from death or disease or from being murdered by bandits in the woods?” Feng paused. The word bandit brought a lump to his throat. “When is anyone guaranteed to survive and prosper? If a man is born with talent and he hides in a cave because he’s afraid to die, he was never born with talent. If we don’t step forward when the people are suffering, then we’re already dead.”
“The Orchid Farmer sacrificed everything so you can live,” Ah Go said.
“The Orchid Farmer sacrificed everything so the people can have a chance,” Feng said. “We need to move fast so the people can have a chance. If the Judge wipes out the Tiger Generals, we’ll never be able to stop him.”
For a long time no one spoke. Feng knew Han was struggling, unable to decide between honoring his commitment to the Orchid Farmer and doing what he must to stop the Judge. Ah Go seemed detached. He leaned back and waited to see what his brothers would decide upon.
“Your Infinity Palm is taking form,” Han said. “But empty-hand martial arts is forever inferior to well armed opponents. You have to learn how to use the sword. Let’s travel together for the next two days up to the point where we should part. If you can learn four sword sets by then, I will not follow you to the City of a Thousand Heroes.”
“Four of your sword sets in two days?” Ah Go asked. “Has it ever been done before?”
Han turned to Feng with a smile. “Half the Infinity Palm set in five days had never been done either.”
Feng drew the Dart and leaped to his feet. “Set number one.”
Han laughed. “I was hoping to eat something and catch some sleep.” He picked up a long branch, broke it to the length of a double-edged sword, and rose to his feet. “Set number one.”
It was late in the night when Han stopped teaching. Ah Go was already sound asleep.
“I’ll practice a little more first,” Feng said.
Han walked to the side of the clearing, curled up against a large tree trunk, and fell asleep. Feng took a deep breath, pulling the cool night air into his lungs, and lifted his sword. The first set was not complicated, but his legs were weak, and his ability to step in the same rhythm as his sword was hindered. There was no way to slow down the Dart. He had to move his feet faster.
It was almost dawn when he finally collapsed in utter exhaustion. He wanted to continue, but somehow he closed his eyes to catch his breath. By the time he opened them again, it was late morning.
“It’s time to leave,” Ah Go said. “If we can find horses along the way, even farm horses, you can be in the City of a Thousand Heroes in ten days.”
“I don’t have any money left to buy horses.”
“We’ll have to borrow them.”
Feng turned to Ah Go. “When you said you would borrow a thousand horses, did you mean—”
“I meant borrow.”
Feng hesitated. He didn’t know much about his younger brother. But they had agreed not to ask each other questions despite becoming sworn brothers, so Feng never made an effort to find out. So, Ah Go was a horse thief, one that would not hesitate before bashing someone’s skull into a pulp.
Feng had to trust Ah Go. They were sworn brothers. Wasn’t unconditional trust the fundamental bind among sworn brothers?
Feng picked up the Dart and walked ahead. There was no other way to stop the Zhuge Nu. They needed fast horses. Perhaps when the war was over, he would insist Ah Go return them.
The heavens began to rain. Feng traveled close to Han, who talked extensively about the use of the sword, the importance of confusing the opponent’s sense of distance, and the key to penetrating the enemy’s defenses.
“A sharp sword is not a bashing weapon,” Han said. “It’s a weapon of finesse and precision. If you collide with the enemy’s weapon, the two metal objects will bounce apart. My sword techniques are soft. Your wrist has to be strong, but your elbow and shoulder must be relaxed. Otherwise your sword cannot stick to the enemy’s weapon. Only if your sword sticks to the enemy’s weapon can you control it and redirect it.”
Feng paid close attention and didn’t realize Ah Go was no longer behind them. He spun around. “Where’s little brother?”
Han laughed. “Coming up the hill right now.”
Ah Go emerged riding a mule and pulling on the reins of a farm horse and an ox. The horse was without saddle or stirrup, and it was so thin and old its head drooped. But the ox and mule were strong.
“It’s better than walking,” Ah Go said.
Feng wanted to laugh. He also wanted to scold his little brother for stealing from peasants who clearly didn’t have much, judging by the malnourished horse. In the end he said nothing but took over the horse’s reins and mounted. The old horse didn’t want to move despite repeated kicks, and Ah Go, who watched from behind, laughed so hard he bowled over, holding his belly.
“You’re not very good with the horse,” he said, handing Feng the reins to the ox. He took the old horse when Feng dismounted, leaped onto the horse bareback, and with a gentle word brought the horse to a rapid walk.
Feng and Han continued to discuss the double-edged sword while Ah Go rode ahead of them. Very soon the sun began to set.
Again they built a fire in the middle of the night. Ah Go shot a wild boar, and they roasted it while Feng worked on his third sword set. They almost ate the entire pig. Feng continued to train while Han and Ah Go drank deep into the night. It was almost dawn when Feng collapsed and fell asleep. He had completed all four sets.
They passed by a town the next day, and Ah Go sold his hunting bow for a few coins, using the money to buy dried food and liquor for the rest of the journey. He knew Feng wouldn’t be able to hunt his own food and that he refused to steal it. Despite tremendous improvement with the sword and Han’s confidence in Feng’s ability to defend himself, Ah Go was certain he had no idea how to take down an animal and feared he might starve to death. Feng laughed and accepted the dried meat.
Outside the town they stood in front of a forked road, the map open and held between them. It was time to go separate ways.
“I want to tell you to be careful,” Han said to Feng. “I want you to protect yourself at all times. But I know you won’t listen to me. You’ll do whatever you want when the time comes.”
“I will. But I’ll be careful.”
“Don’t worry, Han,” Ah Go said. “Feng will be fine. The enemy should be afraid he’s coming.”
The three sworn brothers laughed, and with a quick bow to each other, they proceeded in different directions.
Chapter 14
The City of a Thousand Heroes was built on a small plateau nestled against a valley with mountain peaks on either side. The Great Wall formed the front of the city, and on the other side of the wall, beyond treacherous mountain terrains, lay the Eastern Mongol kingdoms now united under the Silencer. Even without the heavy defenses surrounding the fortress, the city, which was built at a strategic location, was difficult to penetrate.
Feng’s ox approached the city with a rapid gait. All around him peasants pushed wheelbarrows and carried bags of rice, bundles of firewood, and even caskets of oil. They were all traveling toward the City of a Thousand Heroes.
At the foot of the valley, stretching deep into the fields were beautiful yellow flowers at full bloom. For a moment Feng was unsure where he had seen these before. Then he recognized them: yellow foxgloves, the main ingredient for the Yellow Sleeper.
He thought of Ming again when he gazed at the flowers. Where was she? Was she thinking of him as well?
He shifted his thoughts. He couldn’t afford the luxury of thinking about her now.
Feng stopped one of the peasants carrying a sack of rice and asked him where he was headed.
“I’m delivering rice,” he said. “The general is buying food and supplies from everyone.”
&n
bsp; “How much are you going to get for that bag of rice?”
“A lot,” the peasant said with a smile. “The general is paying more than usual. I’m getting two coins for this.”
“How much do you think my ox is worth?”
The peasant assessed the animal, pulled open its jaw to inspect the teeth, and said, “It’s a young ox. At least eighty coins.”
“How about if I trade this ox for your rice and your clothes?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Take my ox and go home. Leave me your rice and clothing.”
The peasant stared. “But my clothes are old, and they’re not worth that much.”
And they haven’t been washed. Feng retched at the thought but contained himself, hopping off the ox and handing over the reins.
Moments later Feng was following the train of peasants, watching each character around him while keeping his head down. He buried the Dart in the sack of rice and easily entered the fortress. Once inside, he located the man he was following from a distance, a man with fair skin and small calf muscles who moved too well for the weight he was supposed to be carrying. He was no peasant.
Feng dropped the rice, extracted the Dart from the sack, and pressed closer. He ran up to his target and said in a low voice, “Quick. Message from the Judge.” He spun around and headed into a small alley.
The fake peasant followed him. Feng drew the Dart and held it to the man’s throat. The man dropped his sack and lowered his hands, speechless.
“You’re a spy for the Judge?” Feng asked.
He nodded.
“And what have you found?”
“Not . . . not much,” the spy stammered. “Yang is preparing for war, and he’s collecting food and firewood.”
“I can see that. What else?”
“He’s buying blankets and oil and all kinds of supplies.”
It would be many months until winter. So, General Yang expected to be surrounded, and he was preparing for a long, drawn-out war. Feng turned back to the petrified spy and pinned the sword closer to his throat.
The man shivered. “I . . . I’m answering all your questions.”
“Where’s the Judge’s army?”
“We’re stationed by a river thirty miles from here.”
“All twenty thousand of you?”
“Yes, sir. Yes—”
“Where’s the Zhuge Nu?”
“They’re not coming here, sir.”
“And Zeng Xi?”
“The Great Prodigy is not coming here either, sir.”
“Is the Judge gathering extra food and supplies?”
“No, sir. We have food in our supply wagons. The commander said this city is easy to take.”
“Easy to take?” Feng asked. He lowered his sword. General Yang had over fifty thousand men. If Zeng Xi was not joining the invasion, how could the Judge believe he could easily take the City of a Thousand Heroes?
Feng sheathed the Dart and struck the spy across the side of his head. The man collapsed without a sound. Feng drew his dagger, carved the word spy on his forehead, and then ran off. Someone would pick him up and detain him.
The Tiger General’s mansion was positioned close to the Great Wall, much like General Mu’s, built on a magnificent hill overlooking the entire city from one side and the land of the Mongols on the other. Feng moved quickly, breathing in the cold air, struggling with the information he obtained. The Judge believed his men could stroll into this city and capture it. What was he up to?
Three guards with long javelins stepped up to greet him, planting their weapons and barring his way.
Why aren’t my pike men as alert?
Feng produced the Tiger General’s pass, the same bronze plate Ming threw at him. The thought of Ming brought another lump to his throat, and he shook his head to suppress it.
“Correspondence between Tiger Generals,” Feng said, holding his bronze plate so the guards could see. One of them leaned closer to check the pass, then nodded to the other two and motioned for Feng to follow.
He was ushered into the grand hall and told to wait by himself. The largest room of the mansion, the grand hall was normally reserved for greeting guests. One side of the room extended into a wide balcony built high above the rest of the city. Feng stood in front of the railing and gazed at the city below him. Beyond the southern walls was an even slope too level to prevent siege weapons from ascending but steep enough for the city to be burned. The fortress was designed to defend against barbarians. It was not built to withstand an attack from home.
That still couldn’t explain why the Judge would only send twenty thousand men without siege weapons to attack fifty thousand behind fortified walls. Feng returned to the middle of the grand hall and seated himself, swinging the Dart to his side and leaning back in the armchair to wait for Yang Xin. His father had never been on good terms with Yang, so it was awkward for Feng to be here. Yet, he carried the message of the Tiger General, and he did come to help. Whatever their differences, the Tiger Generals had to unite against a common enemy. Yang Xin would forever be his “uncle.”
Two motionless guards were stationed outside, their long spears planted against the floor. The one on the left was short and rough-looking with a large mole on the right side of his face. He stared straight ahead, but he seemed to listen to everything around him.
A tall man in simple robes entered the main hall, his hair and beard still black with youth, his gait an imposing presence. Feng recognized him immediately. He stood and bowed.
Tiger General Yang Xin looked at him from head to toe and didn’t recognize General Mu’s son. He seated himself in the armchair in front. “I didn’t realize General Mu was back in China,” he said, his voice deep and strong. “What is his message?”
“The Judge is—”
“Have you no manners, messenger?” Yang’s voice thundered across the hall. “You are to refer to me as General. I believe I’ve earned it.”
Feng swallowed, suppressing whatever comment he had at the tip of his tongue, and lowered his head. “Yes, Uncle. I will call you General from now on.”
Yang leaned forward and peered into Feng’s face. “Did you call me Uncle? Who are you? Are you Feng?”
“Yes, Uncle.”
“I heard you were assassinated. Of course, I knew better than to believe any of old Mu’s rumors. Where’s your father?”
Feng paused. “I don’t know, Uncle.”
Yang wore a smirk on his face and eventually broke into a full laugh. “Of course you don’t know. I didn’t expect you to know anything. So, it’s true—Mu has spoiled his son rotten. What are you doing here?”
Feng’s face flushed with heat. He had come to help, not to receive abuse. Yet, the balance of the world hung in this moment. He swallowed his pride and bowed again. “I may be incompetent, but I did come to deliver a message.”
“Go ahead. What does old Mu want to tell me? What does he want to say through his son, who doesn’t know where he is?”
“I want to tell you that the Judge—”
“What do you know about the Judge?” Yang asked.
“I know his army of twenty thousand has gathered thirty miles from here. They’re not preparing for a long battle, even though you are.”
Yang smiled. “You know a lot. And why do you think they’re not preparing for a long battle?”
“They expect to take this city very quickly. It means they have something on you, something that will force you to surrender.”
Yang laughed. “Is that what Mu has been teaching his son, how to make blind guesses in war? Do you know how hard it is to breach my walls?”
“The back of the city can be burned,” Feng said. “You’ll need an equal amount of men to defend it.”
“And you should know Tiger Generals each command fifty thousand men.”
“That’s what makes the situation so dangerous,” Feng said. “We don’t know what his plan is.”
“Message!” someone shouted
from outside. Yang jumped to his feet and faced the door. A messenger in full armor came running in, dropped to his knees, and bowed before Yang.
“Speak!”
“General, we’ve received an urgent message from General Wu. He’s under attack. The City of Eternal Peace has been surrounded!”
“General Wu in danger?” Yang asked in alarm. “Who could put Wu in danger like that? Is it the Silencer?”
“We don’t know who the enemy is, sir.”
“Then go find out!”
“Yes, sir!”
The messenger retreated from the room. Yang paced back and forth, his head lowered, his piercing eyes pinned to the floor tiles.
“It’s not the Silencer,” Feng said. “The Judge is waging war against the Tiger Generals.”
Yang turned to him. “War against all of the Tiger Generals with only Zeng Xi and another twenty thousand men? And who told you that? Your father?”
“No, Uncle. I captured one of the Judge’s colonels—”
“And why would one of his colonels tell you anything? Did you torture him?”
“He spoke to me willingly.”
The subtle disdain on Yang’s face became more apparent. He was about to laugh.
“He told me the Judge is after the banners.”
Yang’s face stiffened. He took a step forward. “So, you know about the banners. What else do you know?”
“I know the Judge has ten thousand Zhuge Nu archers,” Feng said. “Their crossbows are modified so the bolts can fly incredible distances. But the archers are not coming here, and neither are Zeng Xi or the siege weapons.”
“Message!” someone shouted from outside the hall. Yang turned to the door. A different messenger barged into the room, wheezing for air as large beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. “Sir! Message from General Wu.”
“Speak!”
“General Wu’s situation is dire. He’s been surrounded by ten thousand Zhuge Nu archers. Fifty thousand men are already outside the City of Eternal Peace. Zeng Xi is also approaching them with fifty thousand men.”