by Fred Yu
“I don’t understand.”
“Send my army after Uncle Shu. Don’t confront him yourself. Your martial arts . . .”
“He’s not my match, Father. I’ve learned the martial arts of the Commoner.”
“Yes, your sworn brother!” General Mu said. Genuine happiness brightened his tortured face. “You did well, Feng. He’s a true hero.”
“But he killed . . .” Feng could not go on. He didn’t know if Han really killed two other Tiger Generals. Was he the criminal everyone said he was?
“Feng,” General Mu said, his voice fading. He began to spasm.
“No,” Feng whispered.
General Mu gripped Feng’s hand with all his might, his teeth bared, his eyes squeezed shut in a desperate attempt to regain control. With a choked cough a stream of dark blood gushed out of his mouth.
“I’ll be fine, Father. It’s okay to let go.”
General Mu fought to recover, his eyes struggling to remain open. He lifted his finger and pointed at Feng, his lips quivering. “You . . . You are not my son.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” the general managed to utter, his shaking voice barely a harsh whisper. “I’m sorry I lied to you. Go find your real father. The Crest of Destiny . . . Your birthmark—”
General Mu gasped, a wave of spasms wracking his body. Blood poured from his mouth.
“Father! No! Father!”
General Mu’s eyes closed, and with a light exhale, as if the burden of the world was finally lifted from his soul, he lay still in Feng’s arms.
“No!” Feng whispered. How could this be happening? How could his father be dead? He squeezed his eyes shut, his body shaking with sobs, and he lifted his face to scream. The world spun around him. He thought the floor was moving, and a tingling numbness eased in and out of his bones. But he was oblivious to it all. He sat with the old general in his arms, the blank stare on his face wrought with disbelief.
Every inch of his body hurt as if a thousand needles pierced him at once. It was over. His friends, his sister, and now his father were all dead. Perhaps the Orchid Farmer’s son was right. Those left behind were the ones who suffered. Perhaps if he wasn’t a natural strategist, he would have died many times already. He wouldn’t have had to endure this.
There were light footsteps outside, footsteps he had been able to recognize since childhood. Feng snapped out of his thoughts, the many questions in the back of his mind finding their way to the forefront. He could not sit back and mourn until he knew why. He leaped to his feet, spun around, and charged out of the room. “Mother!”
He saw his mother’s slender figure flash by. She was running away from him.
She helped him find it.
Feng grimaced at the thought. He already knew, but he didn’t want to believe. He would ask her why, but he would never learn the truth. Who else did he need to kill so the wronged could be avenged, so the scorned could be compensated, and so the few fortunate people who owed no one—whom no one owed—could live out their ordinary lives?
Feng ran after her with the Dart in his hand. Uncle Shu was not his match. He used the martial arts of the Commoner.
The side gates were pushed open. Feng leaped through onto the road outside his father’s property. She was carrying a knapsack, sprinting down the road. Uncle Shu was with her. They were running hand in hand.
“Stop!” Feng shouted.
Uncle Shu spun around, his sword drawn. Lady Mu grabbed his arm. “No, don’t hurt him!”
“You’ve been accused of treason,” Feng said, his voice calm and his sword pointed. “You have one chance to prove your innocence.”
“So, you came home to be captured,” Uncle Shu said. “Perfect.”
“You can tell me where to find the Judge,” Feng continued, “how to find him, and who is protecting him. Or I can execute you now for treason. You gave him the banner. You’re already guilty.”
Shu broke free from Lady Mu’s embrace and leaped forward. Feng slipped to the side, and in one move he disarmed his enemy and slashed him above the eye. His mother screamed.
“Uncle Shu, this is your last chance! You either gave him the banner to lead me to him, or you did it to betray your country. Which one is it?”
“And what makes you think you can take back the banner?” Uncle Shu asked. “Do you know how powerful the Judge is?”
Feng lunged, ready to kill his uncle, when his mother threw down her knapsack and scrambled to stand between them, her arms spread out to shield Shu.
“Mother?”
“Please, Feng . . . Please let us go.”
Feng pointed his sword at her. “How could you, mother?”
“Can you allow me to be happy for once? Please, let us go.”
“He killed my father.”
“Mu Chien is not your father!”
“The man who raised me is my father!”
Lady Mu froze, her eyes pleading, her tears flowing down her cheeks. “Then stab me, Feng. I raised you too. Stab right through me if you want to kill him.”
“How could you?” Feng whispered again.
She refused to budge but pressed her back closer against Shu’s chest. For a long time they stood motionless on the road, Feng’s sword pointed at her heart. Shu watched him with his right eye half closed, blinking away the steady stream of blood.
Feng suddenly noticed Ming standing behind them, her hands on her hips. His mother’s opened knapsack lay under her feet.
“Where will you run to, Mother? Give me one good reason not to hunt him down and kill him.”
“You’ve already become powerful, Feng. Look at you! Look at the energy you carry. Why not let your old mother go? Please. Give us a chance. Anything you want—just give us a chance.”
“Fine! I’ll give you one chance. I will hold him prisoner for one day, and you will retrieve my father’s banner. I want it in front of me by sunrise, or he’ll be executed.”
“No!” his mother wailed, sobs wracking her body. “You can’t do that. It’s impossible! I can’t even get to Taiyuan by sunrise.”
“Hush!” Shu said in alarm.
It was too late. Feng’s tense expression eased. So, the banners and the Judge were hiding in Taiyuan. He blinked, lifting his hand to wipe the sweat above his right eye. Ming nodded, still standing above Lady Mu’s opened knapsack.
Feng lowered his sword. He took a few steps back and sheathed the Dart. Ming slipped away.
Lady Mu exhaled in relief and whispered a word of thanks. She reached down to her knapsack and drew a white handkerchief. She pressed the soft cloth against Shu’s cut, wiping away the blood that covered his eye. “Can you see? Can you walk?”
Lady Mu gasped, stepping back in horror. She dropped the handkerchief and shrieked. “That’s . . . Where did that handkerchief come from?”
Shu began to spasm. He grabbed his eye, his entire body shaking. He stumbled backwards and screamed in pain, collapsing onto the road and writhing in agony.
“No!” Lady Mu screamed. “No!”
Deep red blisters formed on Shu’s face. He screamed over and over again. The poison from Ming’s handkerchief coursed through him all at once.
The Judge was in Taiyuan, only two days by horse from the City of Stones. Zeng Xi’s army was broken, but they could regroup and reorganize. Their second in command was still loyal to the Judge. Feng had instructed his two thousand pike men to retreat to safety after destroying Zeng Xi’s siege weapons, and they were only a few days away from assembling at the City of Stones. The fifty thousand men that marched into the City of Eternal Peace when General Yang fell could arrive in two days. The City of Stones would fall under siege. Then, there were the ten thousand Zhuge Nu archers to consider.
Feng released a long, weary sigh amidst the screams of his mother and the choked whimpers of his dying uncle. The burden of the world was indeed left behind for those who remained.
He thought he heard two long bullhorn blasts emitted from the Grea
t Wall. For a second he couldn’t remember what the two blasts meant. It seemed so long ago.
It finally dawned on him. Two long blasts of the horn. There was an invasion from outside the walls.
Feng spun around and ran as hard as he could. The invasion came from the barbarian side. Was there a mistake? Was the Silencer attacking China?
Feng charged up the steps to the watchtower next to his father’s mansion. From there he would be able to see everything happening outside the City of Stones. His legs felt weak when he leaped onto the watchtower platform.
He could not believe his eyes. He no longer knew what to think, how to feel. A massive Mongol army had gathered outside the gates. The Silencer’s flag waved among them. Unhindered by the soldiers, Han ran up to the doors from inside the city. Once he reached the gates, he threw aside the heavy wooden bar and hauled the massive doors apart. The gates to the city, to China, were pulled wide open.
The Mongol horde trickled in, marching into the City of Stones.
Feng collapsed to his knees, no longer able to watch the scene unfolding in front of him. He didn’t have the strength to go on anymore.
His father was dead. All the Tiger Generals were dead. China was in the midst of a civil war, and the Silencer had entered with a massive army.
There were only so many battles a strategist could foresee. There were only so many enemies a general could confront. There were only so many events a man could understand.
Feng lowered his face into his hands and wept.
About The Author
Fred Yu is the author of The Legend of Snow Wolf and the nonfiction titles Yin Yang Blades and Haute Tea Cuisine. He lives in New York City.
Don't miss out!
Click the button below and you can sign up to receive emails whenever Fred Yu publishes a new book. There's no charge and no obligation.
https://books2read.com/r/B-A-ETCQ-GXTRB
Connecting independent readers to independent writers.